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laforzadelvoila · 11 months

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Loreen: how a legacy of warrior women helped the star win Eurovision

I get to sit down not once, but twice, with Loreen, all in the space of a week. Our time together has done my soul a lot of good, she’s definitely calmed me. The first thing you need to know about the Swedish pop star is that spirituality is everything to her. This also leads to the Libra quickly trying to guess every crew member’s star signs on set for her Rolling Stone UK digital cover shoot. We’re meant to delve into the enigma that is Loreen right at the end of a frankly delirious day on set (soundtracked nearly solely by FKA Twigs’ and Pa Salieu’s banger ‘honda’). But everything runs well over and a planned eight-hour day, quickly slips into 11 hours, and she’s pretty exhausted. Our interview is subsequently moved to the weekend to take place at her London hotel. And breathe.

Loreen, a name now so synonymous with Eurovision, never watched the singing event, or its Swedish feeder, Melodifestivalen as a child. She’s one of six kids, raised by a single mum. “I was just a weird kid. I preferred my own company,” she recalls. “I was raised in a big family. A lot of siblings, a lot of helping Mother out because she was alone, trying to make ends meet. We didn’t have much. We had three channels and I didn’t know anything about Melodifestivalen or Eurovision. I just knew at some point in my life, very late though, that I wanted to work with music. I was just trying to find my way wherever I went.” Loreen, 39, has now competed in the Swedish Eurovision selection process four times, making it through twice, and winning both years – pretty good going. Her determination means her name will forever appear in pop music history books.

Raised in a spiritual family, it continues to act as a key component to her personality and outlook on life. She loves nature, star signs, meditating and even has a house she can take herself away to on the remote Swedish island of Gotland. Her Moroccan roots and heritage, she says, provide for a very spiritual backdrop and are a massive influence here, too. “I know what suffering feels like. If you’ve been in pain, and allowed yourself to be in pain, or life has given you painful situations, at some point, when you see another person in pain? Ooof, I can feel that, and I know what you’re going through, I can imagine what you’re going through. That’s why you can’t stop from reacting.”

Her childhood wasn’t easy. Along with her five siblings she grew up “poor”, which led her to start questioning things at an early age. “Why is that happening? Why am I doing that, what is this all about? That’s where spiritually starts,” she says. “So in my house, these conversations happened. ‘Why don’t we have what they have? What’s the purpose of that? That’s unfair. Those people died over there. Why is it like that?’ Spirituality is about questioning your environment and understanding the bigger picture of things.”

Meeting the artist for a second time feels like a huge intake of fresh air. I arrive at Kings Cross, albeit 10 minutes late, and there’s a massive air of calm ready to greet me. Loreen is sitting in the lobby of The Standard London hotel drinking a slightly tepid cup of Earl Grey tea. This time she’s dressed down in an all-black ensemble and instantly recognises me when I arrive. After giving me a hug, she is desperate to know what we’re going to talk about. We settle on: everything.

The star has been vocal about her initial reluctance for a possible Eurovision return. So much so that she originally turned down the idea of using fiery pop anthem ‘Tattoo’ for Melodifestivalen after being sent a demo. How different things could have been. “I was afraid,” she admits. “That was just my initial reaction [when asked to return to Melodifestivalen], because everything went so fast for us. First there was a song, and I loved the song. There was no talking about Melfest. It was just a beautiful song and I wanted to release it.”

From all directions, she was firmly nudged into entering it, in what turned out to be her fourth whirl at Melodifestivalen. “Initially, I said, ‘No, no, no, no!’ I usually do that when I don’t know the purpose of why I’m doing something. Initially, I said no, because I needed time to figure things out. When I say time to figure things out, what I mean is, I need to understand why I do things.”

Everything that happens in Loreen’s life acts as a test, she believes. The prospect of a Eurovision return is a prime example. “What is the story? What can I give you guys? Is this meant for me to do? If you’re at a crossroad, are you going to go right? Or are you going to go left? You can’t really rush into that. That’s why I said no. I said no for a while. I just thought, ‘How do I navigate this?’”

As time passed, signs it was lining up to be a good call started to appear, pointing in her direction. “They were beautiful, beautiful signs. The first was the song, the second sign was the people that I trusted around me, they were so happy whenever I said, ‘Yes’. There were so many positive things happening. People were happy and curious. That’s why I said yes, basically.”

There is such a strong sense of purpose that ripples through everything Loreen does. When she competed in Azerbaijan back in 2012, a country marred by its questionable human rights record, she was the only entrant to meet local human rights activists. She told reporters: “Human rights are violated in Azerbaijan every day. One should not be silent about such things.” An Azerbaijan government spokesman responded critically, calling for the contest to not “be politicised”, and demanded the EBU (European Broadcasting Union) prevent such meetings. But Swedish diplomats stayed firmly on her side. They replied that the EBU, the Swedish broadcaster SVT and Loreen had not acted against the competition’s rules.

Loreen is publicly bisexual, coming out in a TV interview in 2017. Eurovision and the LGBTQ+ community have strong ties, too. Previous LGBTQ+ contestants and winners such as trans star Dana International, drag queen Conchita Wurst and Duncan Laurence have all found success in the competition. She loves her queer fans dearly, too. The ‘Euphoria’ singer told TV host Renée Nyberg at the time: “Many people are so focused on sex, on sexuality. Love is so much more. I usually say ‘Love is where you find it’”. When asked to clarify whether this meant she identifies as bisexual, Loreen said she “quite simply” was.

Unsurprisingly, she has LGBTQ+ fans messaging her all the time. “I absolutely love that. Queer or not queer, I don’t see that, I just see us as people with certain attributes. That’s why I say these are my people. We have the same mindset. The thing is, if somebody asked me, ‘What is freedom, what is feeling free?’, that is just doing exactly what you feel like, expressing yourself exactly the way you want to express yourself. Clothe yourself the way you want to clothe yourself, talk the way you want to talk. Don’t care about what other people think. This is true freedom.”

She goes on passionately: “This community, we know what freedom is about and what that feels like. If you compare it to another community where there are rules and regulations… where someone says, you need to talk like this and be like this, that’s a f**king jail! I cannot do that. For me, when somebody says, ‘You are weird’ to me, that’s [them saying] that I’m free.”

“The women from my mother’s mother’s side, these are real warriors. Historically, the women from my tribe, they’re called Berber.” She explains that this word comes from ‘Barbarian’, and adds: “They were called Barbarians by the Egyptians because they were so aggressive. The women were so aggressive. Isn’t that interesting?” She smiles: “The women from my tribe, they weren’t so interested in monogamy, but being in a relationship. Historically, they went out to the village in search of a man. ‘You’re coming with me,’ right? They did whatever they wanted to do. Then they said, ‘Ta ta,’ and they raised their children by themselves. This whole concept of husband and wife was never a concept. They used these women in war, because they were like, ‘Ahhhhhh!’”

This energy is “generational”, Loreen confirms, but that seemed obvious from the get-go, and especially reflective, she says, through her grandmother. “My great grandmother, my grandmother, all of these women, they had a life presented to them. They were told, ‘This is what your life is going to be like,’ by men, but instead, they were like, ‘F**k no!’ They fought for their freedom. My great grandmother, she loved her husband, he died in the war. They wanted her to marry someone else. So, what does the bitch do? She says, ‘F**k no’.”

Her grandmother took her two children away to a different city, dressed as a man “with a kaftan and everything” and they fled, alongside her housekeeper. “I have pictures of her at home, seriously! She left everything behind, dressed as a man, so that nobody would notice her. She had a cousin in the next city, opened up a store, still dressed as a man, till she got f**king old. She raised those two children by herself with some help from her cousins and never married again. I have a picture of her; she didn’t stop wearing male clothes, she did until she died. The kaftan, the hat, the gold tooth. That was hardcore from my grandma!”

The unravelling of these “huge” stories leads her to repeat my initial question back to me: “So how was it, raised by these women? It’s a lot of pressure!” she laughs. “They have a lot of expectations of me. Like, girl, you better step up your game, change something in the world. It’s crazy to see what women can do. Women are so much more powerful, stronger than men are. That’s why we can have babies and s**t like that, just saying!”

It’s not just the women in her family who provide inspiration, but “all women within the industry that stand their ground”, she tells me. “You can tell when women are standing their ground and not buying into that whole concept of what a woman’s supposed to be. I’m not saying that women aren’t supposed to be sexy. Grace Jones, for instance, she owns her sexuality. She can run around naked. She’s still doing it! There are so many, not even just in the industry. All women [inspire me] because they’re taking positions for the next generation, they’re balancing things up. It’s necessary and it’s inevitable. It’s going to happen. The shift is going to happen, and men will take a step back. The thing is, they’re longing for it, because they’re messing things up…”

Her Eurovision victory was Sweden’s seventh win, and means the nation will host the competition on the 50th anniversary of Abba’s 1974 win. Many fans are begging the group to make a triumphant return to the stage, but after Abba recently created the Voyage experience featuring avatars of themselves, surely that amounts to a deliberate act to make sure they’d never have to perform again? Loreen is convinced they will be at the event. If I were a bookmaker, I’d feel inclined to back her on this.

“They’re going to be there,” she insists. “Maybe not all of them, but they won’t miss it. I promise. How old are they? They all have their own lives. They haven’t really played together in a while. But I’m pretty sure that some of them will be there. Don’t tell them I told you!”

Before she returns to Eurovision again, there’s a giant 2023 in store for Loreen. With tickets for her ‘Tattoo’ tour selling out in literally seconds, it seems Loreen’s going absolutely nowhere. “I’ve been waiting for this tour for years,” she exclaims. “My fans are like, ‘Can you please come to England? Can you please come to Spain? Can you please come to France?’ and now I’m coming! Finally, I’m doing this, and with everything that’s happened with ‘Tattoo’ it’s just a perfect time. I’m longing for it. I’ve longed for it for many years. So it’s going to be nice. I’m a people’s person, I just want to connect.”

Connection is the key feeling again for Loreen. It all feeds back to her spirituality, which has been the dominant force in her life since she was a kid. I point out that there’s no better place for an artist to connect with all their fans than taking themselves on tour. “Yeah! because we gather,” she notes. “They’re there because they want to be there, and I’m there because I want to be there. It’s effortless.” Loreen is already full of ideas. She is, she reminds me, “a bloody creative” after all. “I’m working with the same team that I did ‘Tattoo’ with. It depends on the venues, but it’s going to be a visual performance, obviously.”

She’s heading straight to the studio after our interview. “I haven’t released that much music over the years,” but she promises that absolutely will change. “Now there’s a shift going on, there’s going to be a lot more releases, which is nice. This year and next year. My medium, she told me that!” A move to London is likely, too. “I think it’s actually going to happen. I’m pretty sure. Hello, London! I don’t know what it is, but it’s almost like the UK is a creative hub.” Her top picks of UK artists to work with? Labrinth and Burna Boy. Watch this space.

As our interview wraps, Loreen gives me a huge hug. She made a point of hugging the whole crew on our shoot day earlier in the week, too. It’s a warmth that exudes from her at every stage. “I know we’ll meet again soon,” she says before she departs. “I just know it will happen.”

• Source: Rolling Stone UK •

#eurovision #loreen #news #my post

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decemebercircus · 2 years

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Referring to my recent post about Malleus's grandmother... I had a most clever idea..!

Here's a one shot/ scenario where Malleus's grandmother (for now being called Maleficent II) is introduced. I apologize if anything is inaccurate.

"It has been some time since I saw my family" Queen Maleficent II remarked thoughtfully as she observed a maid assemble multiple black baccara roses into a lovely bouquet.

The maid, Bianca smiled joyfully "oh your majesty! It would be splendid to visit your grandson at this time! I'm sure he will be most happy to see you" Bianca's magic seemed to brighten up the room the red glow acting as a tell tale sign of her work. The Queen blinked like the thought hadn't occurred to her. "Go.... Visit..?" Her voice just above a whisper. "Ah yes," the black ink well marked in gold cursive letters "Visible Ink" floated up as did a peacock feather quill and a few sheets of paper. Bianca's red glow around the room ceased as she observed her queen begin a letter. At that moment a well dressed messenger approached the entrance to the room. 'Permission to enter, My Queen?" He formally requested.

Her reptilian lime green eyes stared directly at him as she said "Permission granted" he quickly walked toward her and bowed holding out a white letter sealed with the Night Raven Diasomnia dorm logo as a wax seal. "A letter, your majesty from the Prince"

"Oh? Two letters in one week? He must be having a adventurous life at school" she chuckled taking the letter a letter opener almost materialising next to it and prying the seal open. Unfolding the letter she was faced with Malleus's neat and semi cursive handwriting.

"How interesting! It appears there is a new event where all parental guardians get the chance to appear on campus for a day. I find it odd that Malleus requested me since his parental guardian is already with him but I suppose he wanted to include me as I am his grandmother. It is a sweet gesture nonetheless" she commented as the quill which had halted its writing started again when she stopped reading.

"It's in two days and I look forward to it" she smiled as her response letter seemed to seal itself and a rose red wax seal was placed on it.

"I assume Malleus sent this letter himself, likely just now finding out about the matter. As it would be strange such thing would be pulled off in such short notice. Likely all the other students knew about this at least a week in advance. But it is no matter. Perhaps I should...." she glanced at the letter a amused smile on her face "...play a little game with the assistance of Lilia and his little darlings as a sort of payment for our family's treatment."

The letter vanished in a flash of burgundy sparkles.

❦︎ ♕︎ ❦︎

"I am Maleficent it is good to be invited formally. I thank you, Malleus, for the invitation" She smiled coyly. A lot of adults and parents averted their gaze. Mostly out of fear.

"Wait you're THE---" a red haired boy with a heart shaped tattoo on his face squeaked nervously. By his red vest he belonged to that other dorm based on her old friend the Queen of Hearts.

"Yes now where is--" she began but was abruptly interrupted by Malleus and Lilia approaching her both bowing out of politeness.

"Good you're here" her gaze softened upon looking at the both of them.

"At your side your majesty" Lilia commented.

Maleficent II observed a reluctant Leona and his adorable little nephew interact with each other.

"Hey cut it out! No climbing that's what we agreed!" He groaned a little. Malleus watched with what looked like amusement, probably thinking it was all very cute. It was considering Leona's personality.

She observed as well, but the scene seemed to shift and she was looking at her late husband and their daughter playing. Her eyes misted over, "oh how nostalgic" she muttered forlornly turning away from such a warm memory even though it left a cold void in her heart.

"No father! I won this round! That means I get the last slice of pie! Right mother?" A young girls voice asked, unmistakably that of a young Illya. It was so happy only to be shocked a few seconds after when she learned that shed taken The last slice. The little child had settled on a game to see who would win the last piece of Pumpkin pie. Naturally Maleficent had solved this by eating it when they were running through the halls.

"Yay! Now all three of us have had three slices" was the next thing out of her daughter's mouth. It surprised her greatly to say the least "what a sly little dragon you are my dear" she remarked the servants clearing away dishes as she left the table.

"Grandmother are you all right?" Malleus asked grabbing her arm. Oh that was a memory. Of course it was. Both her daughter and husband were long dead she thought bitterly. I'm alright she smiled hoping it looked convincing though she doubted the smile was in her eyes. Leona had turned to face her as had Cheka. She absently wondered where he got that scar from but it was not important.

"Yes I am quite fine, shall we visit your friend?" She swiftly changed the subject. Malleus seemed to hesitate but agreed.

Yuu was at Ramshackle dorm alone. They weren't from here so their parents were... Not present. Yuu sat at the entrance observing the festivities. Grim was eating the sandwiches.

"Yuu!" Malleus called

"Ah Tsunotaro!"

W h a t.

They waved and seemed to tilt their head at the Queen in curiousity.

"This is my grandmother Queen Maleficent" Malleus said remembering to play along with the Queen's little game of pretend.

"Grandmother this is my friend Yuu"

"Cute nickname dear" she couldnt resist saying and Malleus blushed a bit. "Yuu" seemed to blush as well probably embarrassed or thinking that they embarrassed Malleus. Laughable. If his parents had been here.... They would have probably requested their own nicknames to be referred to when they had tea or played together. Illya certainly would have thought it cute.

"Ah your majesty I wish to speak with you about a certain matter." Crowley's voice came from her left and she turned to face him. "Very well. I shall return Malleus" she patted his head.

♕︎ ♕︎ ♕︎

"...It is quite the insult that you were not invited to yet another grand party, but I do hope you find the festivities well" Crowely commented nervously as he approached the cafeteria were hundreds of students and parents were already.

"As her daughter I should think it would be clear who is truly insulted" she snapped frostily. Crowley as well as many of the people present grew silent in surprise.

"Ah I see my game is over..." She put a hand on her chin and almost looked saddened. "That is quite alright I shall properly introduce myself then. I am Queen Maleficent II, daughter of your favored "Great Thorn Fairy the original Maleficent"

There were multiple loud gasps and several not so loud ones. The point that must be emphasized is that many had their mouths open in shock.

"Ah ah.... Your majesty... Forgive my error....!" Crowley started evidently nervous. Queen Maleficent II merely smiled. "Not at all. it was fun... Being my mother for a day..."

❦︎ ♕︎ ❦︎

"It is time to say my farewells" The Queen glanced at her four precious family members. Her grandson, his adoptive father and his adoptive brothers so to speak. She affectionately patted their heads "Lilia.... As you were..." Lilia grinned and bowed "of course your majesty" he smiled.

"Silver.... Please dont sleep standing up it would be dreadful for you to acquire a head injury" Silver at least tried to look awake and smiled gently. "Malleus do wonderfully and take good care of your.... friend" Malleus looked a bit surprised. "Sebek... I look forward to hearing more about you in Malleus's letters" Sebek blushed respectfully. "Yes your majesty"

Author notes: that didn't go like I wanted it to but I got lazy. I'll edit it with more info later.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #malleus draconia #twst mc #leona kingscholar #maleficent #Maleficent II #twisted wonderland dire crowley

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xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

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hi! i'm so sorry to hear you haven't been feeling well, i also suffer from migraines and they're the worst. i was hoping to request levi and his s/o (who only recently started dating) and they're playing around, like play fighting/wrestling, and his s/o finds that he's extremely ticklish and a little embarrassed by it bc he had no idea?🥺 (but of course that's how s/o wins the fight hehe) thank you for taking the time to even just read this!

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you for the kind words, I’m feeling better now! Thankfully, my migraines don’t happen very often, but when they do, they are really bad. But I haven’t had one for a little while so that’s good! I’m sorry you suffer from them too, they really are the worst 🙄. Thank you for requesting! This was a really sweet, fluffy request and I really enjoyed writing it. Embarrassed Levi is cutest Levi. I hope this was what you were looking for! Enjoy! ❤️❤️

🐉 Song Recommendation: “A Closeness” By: Dermot Kennedy 🐉

Word Count: ~2.9k

~~~

🔥Unexpected Sensitivity🔥

“Asshole.”

(Y/N) barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes as she tried to ignore the raven-haired man sitting on the opposite end of the couch and turned back to her book. She was able to get through another two sentences before a loud huff and a low grumble of annoyance once again drew her away from the story.

(Y/N) threw him a glare, “Levi, I told you, I am four fucking chapters away from finishing this book, can you please just entertain yourself until then? It won’t be much longer.”

She gritted her teeth when Levi made no attempt to keep from rolling his eyes, sending a scowl right back at her, “I’m bored.”

“Well that’s too bad. Last time I checked, I was not your babysitter.”

Normally, (Y/N) enjoyed when Levi was needy for her attention. She loved how she was the only one who got to see that side of him. Their relationship was relatively new, so she had had to work hard to get him to open up around her. She was proud that she had finally managed to get him to relax around her, of how far he’d come, and it made her heart melt when he craved her affection, like a cat begging to be petted.

But recently, Levi had been begging for her attention a lot. She had no idea what had made these past few days so different, but it was starting to wear her out. Now, whenever he wasn’t working, he wanted to be at the center of her attention, no matter if she was already busy, and it was starting to grate on her nerves a little.

Was it really too much to ask to let her finish her book? She was known to be a very quick reader, it shouldn’t have taken long, but she had barely made a dent in the last few chapters because she was constantly being distracted.

Levi frowned at her and crossed his arms. He really was acting like a petulant child, and while it was annoying as hell, a part of (Y/N) couldn’t deny that she found it a little cute. Especially since she knew his behavior was coming from a place of love. She hadn’t forgotten how lucky she was to even have him acting like this with her, but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy it every time. Especially when he was being this intense about it.

“Asshole.”

“Levi, for the love of god!” (Y/N) snapped, slamming her book shut and tossing it to the side. “How hard is it for you to just let me read four bloody chapters? I told you I would give you attention as soon as I was done! I just wanted to know the ending, you know this is a book I’ve been looking forward to finishing for days.”

Levi raised an eyebrow at her, “Is some boring old book more interesting to you than me?”

Oh my god. She was going to kill him.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm, “Of course not, Levi. But that doesn’t mean I have to be with you every second of every day. I just wanted to know what happened in the end, that’s all. Why is that such a big deal?”

“Because I want you to cuddle me, damn it,” he mumbled, his eyes averted from her face and a light tinge of pink on his cheeks.

(Y/N) immediately felt her anger wash away. She could still feel a little bit of irritation prickling in her chest but she ignored it, choosing to focus more on the warm feeling that blossomed throughout her whole body at his words. Yes, her boyfriend could be annoying as hell sometimes, but she couldn’t deny how adorable he was, wanting affection but embarrassed by the fact. She didn’t show it, but she was proud of him for even gaining the courage to say something. While they had only been dating for two months, she had never heard him directly ask for anything, it was always buried beneath a mask of sarcasm or annoyance.

Levi watched her features soften and felt the corners of his lips curl upwards as she sighed, knowing he had finally won. He knew that when she sighed like that, she was going to give in. His heart warmed at the thought that she found him difficult to resist, even when she was clearly annoyed with him.

He knew he was being shitty, but he just couldn’t help it. Not with her anyway. She was not his first girlfriend by any means, but she was the first girl he felt he had a genuine connection with. The first girl he genuinely loved. His past girlfriends had been nothing but trials, mostly set up by his friends, trying to show him that dating could be fun. He hadn’t believed them until he met (Y/N).

Now, he couldn’t get enough. He knew it was partially unfair to her, even if he knew she secretly loved it. He knew he was being invasive and annoying but at the moment, he just didn’t care. He was aching to feel her pressed against him, her arms wrapped lovingly around his waist and her head on his shoulder. His arms itched to pull her close and relish in the way she fit perfectly against him, as if they had been made for each other. He had never felt this way with anyone else, but now that he had, he craved it. He had never realized just how touch-starved he was until (Y/N) entered his life, and now he burned to be by her side, even if she didn’t always want him there.

“Alright, fine. But you have to promise to let me finish my book later, okay?”

(Y/N)’s words snapped him out of his thoughts and he nodded too quickly for it to be as nonchalant as he wanted it to look. (Y/N) rolled her eyes affectionately and gave him a warm smile that had his heart beating a swift tattoo against his chest.

Levi moved his legs from where they had been laying lengthwise on the sofa cushions as (Y/N) approached, turning his body so he was seated normally, giving her the room to settle down beside him. He immediately felt himself relax as soon as she curled up against him, a satisfied sigh leaving his parted lips.

“Relieved are you?” (Y/N) teased.

Levi thought about teasing her back, but suddenly found himself too sleepy to engage in their usual banter, her comforting presence making him feel drowsy. “Yes.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks heated, not expecting the straightforward answer, “I’m still mad at you for being so obnoxious.”

“Mm.”

“And you’re not sorry for it at all, are you?”

“Mm, no.”

“Pain in the ass,” (Y/N) mumbled affectionately, nuzzling her face into his chest.

(Y/N) was just about to drift off, enjoying the comfort of cuddling with her boyfriend despite her earlier reluctance, when a sudden sharp jab in her side made her jolt up with a yelp.

“Ow! What the hell, Levi!?”

“You called me a pain in the ass,” Levi grumped.

“Yeah, so? You called me an asshole. Twice!” (Y/N) said, leaning over to give him a hard poke in the shoulder.

“Tch,” Levi said, giving her another poke, this time on her thigh.

(Y/N)’s retaliation quickly led to a fierce battle between the two, annoyed huffs devolving into genuine chuckles and shrieks of joy as the two fought, the war only growing more intense when (Y/N) straddled Levi’s thighs to better reach him.

“Brat, stop poking me!”

“You stop poking me, then!”

“Fine,” Levi said, the mischievous look on his face making (Y/N) nervous.

Before she could react, Levi pushed her off of him and pinned her to the couch, hovering over her. (Y/N) laughed, her eyes sparkling, “Oh, how romantic, Levi.”

Levi snorted at her as he moved lower, slinking down her body, his own eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth.

“Levi? What are you doing?”

“You told me to stop poking you, so I stopped. But that doesn’t mean this is over.”

“What the fuck does that mean- AH!” (Y/N) cried out in surprise as Levi’s fingers ran up the bottoms of her feet. “LEVI!”

Levi merely chuckled in response, reaching down to tickle her feet again. He smirked when she writhed and squirmed beneath his strong grip, tears of desperation spilling from the corners of her eyes as her loud laughter filled the apartment.

“Levi! Levi, stop! I can’t- I can’t breathe!”

Levi thought about letting up, but he was having too much fun. He quickly doubled down on his efforts, laughing quietly at the loud squeal she let out in response, trying to jerk her feet from his touch.

(Y/N) was getting desperate. He had her pinned by the hips to the couch with his incredible strength and he wasn’t stopping his assault on her poor feet. She tried to wrench them from his grip to no avail, his cocky smile and bright silver hues making her want to slap that look of smugness off of his face.

Frantically looking for a way to escape, (Y/N) suddenly remembered that her hands weren’t being held down. She had her own fingers she could use. She knew it would be no use trying to pry his fingers off, he was much too strong for that, so she did the next best thing.

She blindly latched onto him, her fingers flying over his skin as she searched for a weak point, a tender spot, anything. Levi was finally starting to slow down his attack, his fingers only lightly brushing her skin to watch her jump while she caught her breath, but she was determined to get back at him.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing?” Levi asked, finally taking his fingers away from her sensitive skin and leaning back on his haunches. His eyebrow rose when she followed him, her hands still moving all over his body.

“What do you think I’m doing, idiot?”

Levi smirked down at the woman that was now back in his lap, her brow furrowed in concentration as she poked and prodded beneath his shirt, practically feeling him up as she tried to find where he was the most sensitive.

“Nice try, brat. But unfortunately for you, I’m not tickLISH-!”

(Y/N) and Levi both froze.

Levi’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide and his hands loosened from where they had been holding onto (Y/N)’s waist. He had never, in his entire life, made a noise like that before. It sounded like the cross between a yelp of surprise and a barked out laugh. He was still uncertain if it had indeed been him that had made the noise, it sounded so unlike him, so foreign to his ears he couldn’t be sure.

(Y/N) was just as shocked. Had Levi really just squawked? That was probably the only way you could describe the noise that had just come from her boyfriend’s mouth, even though it seemed like the kind of word you would never in a million years associate with Levi Ackerman.

While she was certainly surprised, she recuperated faster than Levi, a deviant smile spreading across her face as she suddenly realized the power she held. She noticed Levi’s eyes narrow on her borderline evil expression, but his dazed state made his reaction time slower than normal. Before he knew it, he was on his back, her legs straddled over his hips, his wrists held in one of her hands while the other was snaking back beneath his shirt, aiming for the spot along his upper ribs.

He tried to squirm away, but he underestimated her strength as she pressed her full weight into him and tightened her grip on his wrists, holding him there as she brushed her fingers along the spot that he hadn’t even known would make him go crazy.

To his horror, another loud cry was ripped from his throat, quickly turning into loud, rich laughter that rang out and bounced off the walls as she tickled him. He tried to flash her a warning glare but she only smiled wider, followed by a slight shake of her head.

Fuck, she was going to show no mercy.

Tears gathered in his eyes as she continued to attack the sensitive flesh in the same way he did to her, his body losing all control. He wriggled and arched, trying to escape her torturous fingers, until he was finally able to free one of his hands. (Y/N) tried to hold on, but as soon as one of his hands was free, she was quickly shoved off of him, her own laughter joining his as she was pushed from the couch to land with a satisfying thump on the carpet below.

Levi’s laughter was quick to quiet into soft chuckles before finally fading into heavy breathing, the apartment thick with silence as the pair fought to catch their breath, unwilling to move for a while.

“Whew,” (Y/N) said, eventually breaking the silence. “Who knew the fearsome Levi Ackerman was ticklish, huh?”

(Y/N) was smiling, a hand coming up to cover her mouth to stifle the giggles that tried to filter into the room at her teasing, but when he didn’t respond, (Y/N) grew worried.

“Levi?”

(Y/N) sat up, and quickly lost all feelings of giddiness at the sight of Levi, turned away from her with his knees brought up to his chest, his hands covering his face, and his back hunched slightly, so different from how he normally was it almost made her panic.

“Levi! Are you alright?”

It took him a moment, but Levi eventually nodded once, refusing to remove his hands from his face. His response calmed (Y/N) down somewhat, but concern still coursed through her as she gently eased onto the couch beside him, her palm reaching out to rest on his back.

“Levi, what’s wrong?”

A quiet mumble reached her ears, but his hands were muffling most of the words. Even when she strained her ears she couldn’t understand what he was saying, but she did notice his face get a tinge more pink, especially on the tips of his ears.

“I’m sorry, babe, I couldn’t hear you. Can you repeat that?”

Levi huffed in annoyance, and it was enough to bring another small smile back onto (Y/N)’s face. He then shifted his hands, uncovering only enough to free his mouth.

“I said, I’m… embarrassed…” He trailed off at the end, the last word much quieter than the others, but (Y/N) heard him loud and clear. She immediately felt a wave of relief and guilt wash over her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Levi. I really didn’t mean to embarrass you like that, I thought we were just having fun. I never want you to feel uncomfortable around me, ever. I’m sorry, I never should’ve pushed your boundaries like that.”

Levi finally removed his hands from his face and turned around to look at her. His face was still red and his eyes were slightly swollen from the tears he had shed during their intense battle but his expression was soft. He reached up and brushed his fingers along her jaw, affectionately stroking her skin.

“It’s not your fault. I attacked you first,” Levi said. “I didn’t even mind it that much at first, I just didn’t expect to react… like that.”

“Levi, it’s okay! Everyone reacts like that, that’s why nobody likes to be tickled. I mean, you heard me! I didn’t sound any better.”

Levi smirked, the beginnings of a sparkle coming back into his eye, “Yeah, you sounded like a donkey with a sore throat. Or maybe a dying bird.”

“Hey!” (Y/N) said, slapping his shoulder playfully with a false pout. “That’s mean!”

“But true.”

“Oh, do we want to go back to what you sounded like?”

“Oi, watch it, brat.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Levi gave (Y/N) a light-hearted shove before standing up to stretch, his shirt riding up to show off a bit of his muscular back as he brought his arms above his head. (Y/N) followed him with a large grin on her face when he moved into the kitchen, intent on making tea and forgetting the whole experience. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Levi heated the water and (Y/N) grabbed the tea leaves, the pair working together seamlessly despite their short time spent as a couple.

When the tea was finally finished, Levi offered a cup to (Y/N), who took it gratefully, before leaning against the counter and taking a sip. (Y/N) watched as Levi closed his eyes and hummed in pleasure at the taste, his body finally starting to unwind again. Her eyes swept over him, her heart beating a steady drum for the man beside her. She loved him so much, felt so lucky to have him, and while the tickle fight had certainly been an experience, she couldn’t wait to have many more adventures just like that with him by her side.

“Hey, Levi?”

“Yeah brat?”

“For the record, I think your laugh is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.”

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pitviperofdoom · 3 years

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Obviously I can’t get through one fandom event without bringing Jongerry into it.

Aspec Archives Week Prompt: Confusion

(AO3)

Jon caught him in a kiss as they passed in the hallway, and these days that always meant trouble. Once upon a time, in the distant past of around last month, he’d been bashful about it. They both had—Gerry especially, after Jon had sat him down to explain a few things about his preferences. But that was last month, and that hurdle was well behind him. Now the question wasn’t finding the nerve to start; it was finding a reason to stop.

On a lazy Sunday morning like this, those reasons were few and far between.

They wound up on the couch, because it was closer, and that was the direction Jon had been heading, and Gerry was happy to let himself be steered. Kissing Jon was like that, now that they were both past being shy. Even with his mouth occupied, he never failed to let Gerry know exactly what he wanted and where he wanted him.

The backs of Jon’s knees hit the couch. Gerry broke the kiss for a moment, just to enjoy looming over him a bit. He liked this view of Jon—this close, staring nearly straight down while Jon tilted his head back and met his eyes.

Then he reached up, tugged Gerry back down, and kissed him again.

The noise Gerry made came out like it had been punched out of him, and he had to draw back just to catch his breath.

Jon’s hand was on his jaw, carefully tilting it so Gerry would look at him, which really wasn’t helping with—whatever was going on. His eyes were dark and serious, scrutinizing Gerry’s face as if inspecting him for an injury. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Gerry said, more hoarsely than he meant to. “Mm. I’m good.”

“You’re sure?” Jon pressed, frowning deeply enough to form a crease between his eyebrows. Gerry kissed it before he could think better of it. “Ah—”

“How about you?” Gerry asked, even as a small but very loud part of him screamed to kiss him again, to hold him close and never stop.

“Like I said,” Jon replied, his voice raspy but warm. “This part I like.”

Gerry grinned and let himself be pulled down to the couch cushions.

Jon wound up mostly under him, propped halfway up against pillows and armrest with Gerry hovering over him, tugged down by Jon’s hand at the back of his head. He kissed Gerry the way he always did, so gentle and unhurried, but with just enough insistence to make his heart race with an unfamiliar thrill.

Felt a bit dangerous, sometimes. And while Gerry was no stranger to it, it was different now, when he finally had something he wasn’t willing to risk.

Lots of things were different, with Jon. But different could be good, different could be new and exciting before it settled into a comfort, like hands in his hair sliding down to the back of his neck, like the teasing warmth of his mouth, like arms around him holding him close—

Then Jon turned his head, fingers digging firmly into the back of Gerry’s neck, and mouthed at the corner of his jaw with just a hint of gentle teeth. In an instant, Gerry went hot with want. His body moved before his brain caught up, canting his hips forward into Jon’s.

Beneath him, Jon startled and pulled back, and Gerry belatedly realized what he’d just done.

“Shit—” He shoved himself off of Jon, face heating—not desire this time, just mortification. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine—”

“I didn’t forget, I just—that’s never happened before—”

“Gerry I’m serious, it’s fine.”

“—and I don’t know where the fuck that came from,” Gerry went on, mouth running with nervous, frantic energy.

Jon was sitting up, pushing his hair back out of his face. “I think I have a pretty good idea.” His eyes flickered vaguely downward.

There wasn’t much he could do about that particular situation, so Gerry sat back and drew his knees up to his chest, breathing deep to slow his racing heart. All traces of warm excitement were gone, replaced by hot, prickling shame.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Jon scooted closer and carefully took his hand. “It’s alright,” he said. “I mean it. No harm done—look, can you just sit properly? You look horribly uncomfortable.”

“Better me than you.”

“What do you mean by—oh, for God’s sake.” Jon sighed, infinitely patient and—fond? Maybe? “Gerry, I’m asexual, not a prude. I’m not going to faint at the sight of a clothed erection.”

Gerry choked on an unexpected laugh, then slid his feet down to sit in a more comfortable position, Mercifully, he was already softening.

“I’m—” He bit down on another apology.

Jon hadn’t let go of his hand yet. “If it makes you feel better, that’s probably the fastest anyone’s gotten off when I asked.” Gerry stared at him wordlessly. “I mean—don’t look at me like that, I meant literally—physically gotten off of me when—oh, you know what I mean!”

“Right, right.” Abruptly, the words sank in, and he went stiff with alarm. “Wait. Jon, does that mean—have other people…?”

“What—? Oh!” Jon’s eyes widened. “No. God, no—I’m sorry, that came out wrong. No one’s ever—right. What I meant was that, of the very few times I’ve been in this situation before, the other person was usually… I mean, they stopped when I asked, but I had to ask, and sometimes I got the feeling that they were… sort of reluctant? It made things extremely awkward, more often than not.”

“This isn’t awkward?” Gerry asked dryly.

“In comparison? Hardly at all.” Jon squeezed his hand. “And even if it were, I’ve had my share of awkwardness.”

Gerry squeezed back, finally starting to settle. “That so.”

“I’m going to regret telling you this, but my first kiss was an absolute disaster,” Jon informed him. “I went for the cheek, he went for the mouth.”

“Yikes,” Gerry said with a wince.

“Oh, but I haven’t told you the worst part,” Jon went on. “I turned my head away, and he went for the side of my neck—no, stop laughing—he latched on like he was a bloody vampire—”

He couldn’t help it. Gerry dissolved into laughter, ducking his head and muffling it behind his fist. At some point he looked up again to find that Jon had scooted closer in his distraction. He liked when Jon got sneaky.

But did he like it the right way, was the question.

“Alright?” Jon asked, tentatively brushing their shoulders together.

“Guess so,” he replied, with another long breath. “Better, at least. Could be loads worse.”

Jon was running the pad of his thumb over each of Gerry’s knuckles now, in slow, back-and-forth swipes. “You don’t sound very sure of that,” he said after a moment.

“Maybe not.” Gerry sat back, leaning his head on the back of the sofa. Jon continued to play with his hand, tracing the outline of each tattoo. It felt—nice. Not the dangerous sort of nice that he’d just now managed to dodge. Just comfortable. Fond. (Loving.)

“If you—” Jon began. He hesitated, pressing Gerry’s hand between his palms. “I’m not the best at this. But if it’s really bothering you, then I need you to know that you don’t—you don’t have to feel guilty about this, it’s not like you can—I don’t know, make yourself stop feeling… whatever it is you feel.” He paused again. “Anymore than I could make myself feel it at all.”

“That’s the problem, though,” Gerry admitted. “I shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, I just shouldn’t!” Frustration welled up in him, and he tugged his hand out of Jon’s grasp without thinking. “I never have before, but now I am and I don’t know why. I’ve lived my whole life without giving people a second glance, and it never crossed my mind because I just—I never had the space for it. Good thing, too; dunno what I would’ve done if I had to deal with that on top of everything else.”

“Right,” Jon said softly.

“And then I met you,” Gerry went on. “And we had that talk. And I thought, fuck, there’s a word for it, it’s just a thing and it’s fine, it’s not just me being—being not right. There’s a reason why I’ve never given anyone a second glance, not even you. At least—not at first.” His voice trailed off, words running dry. “I dunno. It’s just been different recently. I look at you and… and I think about things I never have before.”

“Me?” Jon stared at him incredulously. “You feel that way about me?”

“I know you don’t like that,” Gerry answered, trying not to sound as miserable as he felt.

Jon gave a quick shake of his head, though whether it was denial or just to clear his head, Gerry couldn’t tell. “No, that’s not—I just mean, why? Why on earth would you—me, of all people?”

“Because you’re hot, apparently. Can we not argue about that while I’m having a crisis?”

Jon shrank a little, looking ashamed. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Surprised me too, to be honest.” Gerry looked away. “Feels like—more like greed than lust, sometimes. Like the more I get of you, the more I want.”

At that, Jon sat up straight, and Gerry realized how that must have sounded.

“I’m not gonna ask you for any more,” he said quickly, cutting off whatever Jon was about to say. “We had that talk, and I listened, alright, and it’s been—it’s been good. Really good. I don’t need anything more, especially if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Jon assured him.

“Oh.” He deflated a bit. “Good, then.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Jon asked.

“I’ve about spilled my guts already, but sure, maybe there’s a bit of spleen I missed,” Gerry said wearily.

“It’s a bit personal, but… have you ever been close to anyone before?” Jon asked. “Emotionally close? Friendships, anything like that?”

“No…? No.” Gerry shook his head. “Never had the chance. I don’t have that kind of life. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well… I mean, far be it from me to impose a label on you,” Jon said cautiously. “But from the way you describe it… it’s possible you might be demisexual?’

Gerry frowned. Another new word. Demi usually meant half or partial. “What’s that one mean? I only want it sometimes?”

“Sort of.” Jon had grabbed his phone off the side table and was scrolling through it. “It’s on the spectrum of asexuality. To my understanding, it’s when you only experience attraction when you’ve formed an emotional connection with someone.”

“That’s a thing?” Gerry leaned over his shoulder to see the screen. “Don’t tell me there’s an app for this.”

Jon laughed. “No, but there is a wiki—here it is. Demisexual. Have a look.”

Gerry took his phone and read through the definition, frowning in thought.

It certainly sounded like what the past month had been like. And it explained a few things—he’d been alone his whole life until Jon, and even with Jon he hadn’t wanted him at first sight. It had taken time. It had grown into it—as far as he could tell, it was still growing, still changing.

“Say you’re right,” he said at last, looking up from the phone screen to Jon’s face. “Say this is me. Where does that leave us?”

Jon shrugged. “Same place as usual, I hope,” he answered. “If… this doesn’t change anything for you?”

“Should it?”

“Maybe.” Jon shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’ve just found that it helps to have a word. Makes things simpler if you can at least name them.”

With a sigh, Gerry passed his phone back. “Would’ve been even simpler if I could just be like you, not feel this shit at all.”

Jon put the phone down. Then, turning so that he was fully facing Gerry, he took his face between his hands.

“You are,” he said, as his dark, serious eyes bored into Gerry’s. “You’re just a step to the left, that’s all. But you are like me.”

It was enough to rob him of speech for the better part of a minute. When he found his voice again, he leaned forward until his forehead was on Jon’s chest.

“See, you say things like that and then turn around and wonder why I think you’re attractive.”

Jon spluttered, even as his arms wrapped around Gerry’s shoulders and pulled him back down. They didn’t kiss again, just lay squashed together on the couch with Gerry sprawled on top, enjoying the warmth and closeness without feeling like he was scratching an itch that would never settle.

“Thanks,” he said, after the silence stretched long enough to circle back around to comfortable again.

“Whatever for?”

“Dunno.” Gerry pressed his face into the soft fabric of Jon’s shirt. “Glad you’re here. Glad you’re you.”

Jon gave a noncommittal hum, like he wasn’t sure whether to agree or how to answer. His fingers combed softly through Gerry’s hair, and after a moment Gerry let himself lean into the touch, Jon’s quiet amusement.

He was no stranger to wanting things, but—all he needed was this, right here.

It was more than he ever would have dared to hope for.

#AspecArchives #the magnus archives #jongerry #jonathan sims #gerard keay #tma fic #fanfiction #tales from the pit

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snelbz · 4 years

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What Happens In Vegas... {4}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

@snelbz / @tacmc collab

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

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My neck had seized up. Pain shot through me as I slowly straightened and blinked the sleep from my eyes. I rubbed at the offending muscles, trying to get them to unlock. “Ow.”

Rhysand took one hand off the steering wheel and reached out, rubbing the back of my neck with strong fingers. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I must have slept funny.” I shuffled up in the seat, taking in our surroundings, trying not to enjoy the neck rub too much. Because of course he was crazy good with his hands. Mr. Magic Fingers coerced my muscles back into some semblance of order with seemingly little effort. I couldn’t be expected to resist. Impossible. So instead I moaned loudly and let him have his way with me

Being barely awake was my only excuse.

The sun was just rising. Tall, shadowy trees rushed by outside. Trying to get out of LA, we’d gotten caught in a traffic jam the likes of which this small town girl had never seen.

For all my good intentions, we hadn’t really talked. We’d stopped and gotten food and gas. The rest of the time, Johnny Cash had played on the stereo and I’d practiced speeches in my head. None of the words made it out of my mouth.

For some reason, I was reluctant to call a halt to our adventure and go off on my own. It had nothing to do with pulling up my big-girl panties and everything to do with how comfortable I’d begun to feel with him. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful. Refreshing, even, given the last day’s worth of drama. Being with him on the open road … there was something freeing about it. At around two in the morning, I’d fallen asleep.

“Rhys, where are we?” He gave me a sidelong look, his hand still massaging my muscles. A sign flew past outside. “We’re going to Velaris?”

“That’s where my place is,” he said. “Stop tensing up.”

“Velaris?”

“Yeah. What’ve you got against Velaris?”

“Nothing.” I backpedaled fast, not wanting to appear ungrateful. “It’s just a surprise. I didn’t realize we were leaving town. Velaris. Okay.”

Rhys sighed and pulled off the road. Dust flew and stones pinged off the truck. Cass wouldn’t be pleased. He turned to face me, resting an elbow on the top of the passenger seat, boxing me in.

“Talk to me, friend,” he said.

I opened my mouth and let it all tumble out. “I have a plan. I have some money put away. I was going to go someplace quiet for a couple of weeks until this blew over. You didn’t have to put yourself out like this. I just need to get my stuff from back at the mansion and I can be out of your hair.”

“All right.” He nodded. “Well, we’re here now and I’d like to go check out my place for a couple of days. So why don’t you come with me? Just as friends. No big deal. It’s Friday now, the lawyers said they’d have the new papers sent to us Monday. We’ll sign them. I’ve got a show early next week back in LA. If you want, you can lie low at the house for a few weeks till things calm down. Sound like a plan? We spend the weekend together, then go our separate ways. All sorted.”

It did sound like a solid idea. But still, I deliberated for a second. Apparently, it was a second too long.

“You worried about spending the weekend with me or something? Am I that scary?” His gaze held mine, our faces a bare hand’s breadth apart. Dark hair fell around his perfect face. For a moment I almost forgot to breathe. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Outside a motorcycle roared past then all fell quiet again.

Was he scary? The man had no idea.

“No,” I lied, throwing in some scoff for good measure.

I don’t think he believed me. “Listen, I’m sorry about acting like an asshole back in LA.”

“It’s okay, really, Rhys. This situation would do anyone’s head in.”

“Tell me something,” he said in a low voice. “You remembered getting the tattoo. Has anything else come back to you?”

Reliving my drunken rampage wasn’t somewhere I wanted to go. Not with him. Not with anyone. I was paying the consequences by having my life upended and splashed about on the Internet. “Does this even matter? I mean, isn’t it a bit late to be having this conversation?”

“Guess so.” He shifted back in his seat and put a hand on the wheel. “You need to stretch your legs or anything?”

“A restroom would be great.”

He nodded. “No worries.”

We pulled back out onto the road, and silence ensued for several minutes. He’d turned off the stereo sometime while I slept. The quiet was awkward now and it was all my doing. Guilt sucked first thing in the morning. It probably didn’t improve later in the day, but first up, without even a drop of caffeine to fortify me, it was horrible. He’d been nice to me, trying to talk, and I’d shut him down.

“Most of that night is still a blur,” I said, trying to gently reopen the conversation.

He hummed quietly. Such was the sum total of his response.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to go further. “I remember doing shots at midnight. After that, it’s hazy. I remember the sound of the needle at the tattoo parlor, us laughing, but that’s about it. I’ve never blacked out in my life. It’s scary.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

It was a little late to ask this, but I needed to know. “How did we meet?”

He exhaled hard. “Me and a group of people were leaving to go to another club. One of the girls wasn’t looking where she was going, bumped into a cocktail waitress. Apparently the waitress was new or something and she dropped her tray. Luckily, it was only a couple of empty beer bottles.”

“How did I get involved?”

He darted me a glance, taking his eyes off the road for a moment. “Some of them started giving the poor waitress shit, telling her they were going to get her fired. You just swooped in and handed them their asses.”

My eyes went wide. “I did?”

“Oh, yeah.” He licked his lips, the corner of his mouth curling. “Told them they were evil, pretentious, overpriced assholes who should watch where they were walking. You helped the girl pick up the beer bottles and then you insulted my friends some more. It was pretty fucking classic, actually. I can’t remember everything you said. You got pretty creative with the insults by the end.”

I was stunned. “Huh. And you liked me for that?”

He shut his mouth and said nothing. A whole wide world of nothing. Nothing could actually cover a lot of ground when you put that much effort into it.

“What happened next?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Security came over to throw you out. Not like they were gonna argue with the rich kids.”

“No. I guess not.”

Glancing over at me, he added, “You looked panicky, so I got you out of there.”

“You left your friends for me?” I watched him in amazement.

He did a one-shoulder shrug. As if it meant nothing.

“What then?” I asked.

“We took off and had a drink in another bar.”

“I’m surprised you stuck with me.” Stunned was closer.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. “You treated me like a normal person. We just talked about everyday stuff. You weren’t angling to get anything out of me. You didn’t act like I was a different fucking species. When you looked at me it felt…”

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “I dunno. Doesn’t matter.”

He was lying. “Yes, you do. And it does.”

He groaned.

I pushed. “Please?”

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, shifting around in the driver’s seat all uncomfortable-like. “It felt real, okay? It felt right. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

I sat in stunned silence for a moment. “That’s a good way to explain it.”

Suddenly, he got decidedly smirky. “Plus, I’d never been propositioned quite like that.”

“Yeah. Okay, stop now.” I covered my face with my hands, and he laughed.

“Relax,” he said. “You were very sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Sweet is not a bad thing,” he replied.

He pulled the truck into a gas station, stopping in front of a pump. “Look at me.”

I lowered my fingers. Rhys stared back at me, beautiful face grinning. “You said that you thought I was a really nice guy. And that it would be great if we could go up to your room and have sex and just hang out for a while, if maybe that was something I’d be interested in doing.”

“I have all the moves,” I groaned. There might have been more embarrassing conversations in my life. Doubtful, though. Oh, good God, the thought of me trying out my smooth seduction routine on Rhys. He who had groupies and glamour models throwing themselves at him on a daily basis. If there’d been enough room under the car seat, I’d have hid down there. “What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?” Without taking his gaze off me, he popped the glove box and pulled out a baseball cap.

“This is so mortifying,” I sighed, letting my head fall back against the headset. “Why couldn’t you have forgotten too?”

He just looked at me. The smirk was long gone. For a long moment he held my gaze captive, unsmiling. The air in the car seemed to drop by about fifty degrees.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, fingers fumbling with the seat belt.

His voice was hard again. “Sure.”

I finally managed to unbuckle the stupid thing, heart galloping inside my chest. The conversation had gotten crazy heavy toward the end. It had caught me off guard. Knowing he’d stood up for me in Las Vegas, that he’d chosen me over his friends… It changed things. And it made me wonder what else I needed to know about that night.

“Wait.” He rifled among the collection of sunglasses, pulled out a pair of designer aviator shades, and handed them to me. “You’re famous now too, remember?”

“My butt is.”

He almost smiled. Almost.

He fit the baseball cap to his head and rested an arm on the steering wheel. The tattoo of my name was right there, in all its glory. It was pink around the edges and some of the letters had small scabs on them. I wasn’t the only one permanently marked by that night.

With a sigh, I hurried inside of the gas station, into the restroom. I locked myself inside of the stall and took a deep breath.

A weekend with Rhysand. It wouldn’t be too bad...at least, that’s what I kept telling myself, and every time I did, I debated myself against it. I was nervous and, yes, a little bit scared. Ultimately, I will still uncomfortable with the fact that I was married to a stranger. I was learning more about him every day, but I still didn’t know him, and I’m not sure I would get the chance to when all was said and done.

I mean, did it even matter?

After I saw to the necessities, I was washing my hands, scrubbing at them just to give myself a few minutes more of silence. When I opened the door to the restroom again, though, I was only halfway down the drinks aisle before I had been spotted. A pair of girls, maybe a few years younger than myself, were standing there, their eyes wide.

The sunglasses Rhys had given me were pushed on the top of my head.

Good going, Feyre.

I gave them each an awkward smile and tried to step past them. I was almost to the door, to freedom, when one of them muttered to her, “Do you think that’s her?”

I didn’t turn to let them know I’d heard them, just kept hurrying for the exit.

“I don’t think so. The girl in the pictures was much prettier.”

Ouch.

When I got back, Rhysand was standing by the truck, signing an autograph for a couple of guys, one of whom was busy doing an overly-enthusiastic air guitar performance. Rhys laughed and clapped him on the back and they talked for a couple of minutes more. He was kind, gracious. He stood smiling, chatting with them, until he noticed me hovering nearby. “Thanks, guys. If you could keep this quiet for a couple of days I’d appreciate it, yeah? We could do with a break from the insanity.”

“No worries.” One of the guys turned and grinned at me. “Congratulations. You’re way prettier in person than in your pictures.”

“Thanks.” I awkwardly smiled, not quite knowing what else to do. I preferred these guys to the girls who’d seen me in the gas station.

Rhys winked at me and opened the passenger door for me to hop in. The other man pulled out a cell phone and started snapping pictures. Rhys ignored him and hurried around to the other side of the vehicle. He didn’t speak till we were back out on the road.

“It’s not far now,” he said. “We still going to Velaris?”

I nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Cool.”

Hearing Rhys talk about our first meeting had put a new spin on things. That conversation had piqued my curiosity. That he’d chosen me to some degree that night… I don’t think the possibility had occurred to me before. I’d figured we’d both let tequila do the thinking and somehow fallen into this mess together.

I was wrong. There was more to the story. Much more. Rhysand’s reluctance to answer certain questions made me wonder.

I wanted answers. But I needed to tread carefully.

“Is it always like that for you?” I asked. “Being recognized? Having people approach you all the time?” I was hesitant to tell him about the girls I saw in the gas station. I didn’t know how he’d feel about that, or if he’d reprimand me for not utilizing the sunglasses like he’d told me.

“They were fine. The crazies are a worry, but you handle it. It’s part of my job. People like the music, so…”

A bad feeling crept through me. “You did tell me who you were that night, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, of course I did.” He gave me a snarky look, his brows bunched up.

My bad feeling crept away, only to be replaced by shame. “Sorry.”

“Feyre, I wanted you to know what the fuck you were getting into. You said you really liked me, but you weren’t that keen on my band.” He fiddled with the stereo, another half smile on his face. Soon some rock song I didn’t know played quietly over the speakers. “You felt pretty bad about it, actually. You kept apologizing over and over. Insisted on buying me a pizza to make up for it.”

“I just prefer country or pop. Or, really, anything that’s not hard rock.”

“Believe me, I know. And stop apologizing. You’re allowed to like whatever the hell you want.”

I nodded and we fell into an awkward silence. Finally, I asked, “Was it a good pizza?”

He gave me a one-shoulder shrug. “It was fine.”

I looked over at him, but his eyes were firmly on the road in front of us. “I wish I remembered.”

He snorted. “There’s a first.”

I don’t know what exactly came over me. Maybe I just wanted to see if I could make him smile. With a knee beneath me I pulled out a length of seat belt, raised myself up, and kissed him quick on the cheek. A surprise attack. His skin was warm and smooth against my lips. The man smelled so much better than he had a right to.

“What was that for?” he asked, shooting me a look out of the corner of his eye.

“For getting me out of my parent’s house and then out of LA. For talking to me about that night.” I shrugged, trying to play it off. “For lots of things.”

A little line appeared above the bridge of his nose. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. “Right. Yeah. No problem.”

His mouth stayed shut and his hand went to his cheek, touching where my lips had been. The looks out of the corner of his eye continued for quite some time. Each one made me wonder a bit more if Rhysand Lunasa was just as scared of me as I was of him. This reaction was even better than a smile.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Velaris was beautiful, that much was certain, and if I thought the mansion in LA was over the top, Rhysand’s house was just as magnificent, but in a more logical sense. It wasn’t as big, but it was very modern, very sleek.

Rhysand climbed out of the cab and walked up to the house, fiddling with a set of keys from his pocket. He opened the front door, then stopped to punch numbers into a security system.

“You coming?” he yelled.

I lingered beside the car, looking up at the magnificent house. Him and me alone. Inside there. Hmm. Waves crashed on the rocks nearby. I swore I could hear the swell of an orchestral accompaniment not too far off in the distance. The place was decidedly atmospheric. And that atmosphere was pure romance.

“What’s the problem?” Rhys came back down the stone path toward me.

“Nothing … I was just-.”

“Good.” He didn’t stop. I didn’t know what was going on until I found myself hanging upside down over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.

“Shit. Rhys!”

“Relax,” he crooned. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear the smirk on his lips.

“You’re going to drop me!” I cried.

“I’m not going to drop you. Stop squirming,” he said, his arm pressing against the back of my legs. “Show some trust.”

“What are you doing?” I battered my hands against the ass of his jeans.

“It’s traditional to carry the bride across the threshold.”

“Not like this,” I laughed.

He patted my butt cheek, the one with his name on it. “Why would we wanna start being conventional now, huh?”

“I thought we were just being friends.”

“This is friendly. You should probably stop grabbing my ass, though, or I’m gonna get the wrong idea about us. Especially after that kiss in the car.”

“I’m not feeling your ass,” I grumbled, and stopped using his butt cheeks for a handhold. Like it was my fault the position left me no alternative but to hold on to his firm butt.

He snorted. “Please, you’re all over me. It’s disgusting.”

I laughed despite myself. “You put me over your shoulder, you idiot. Of course I’m all over you.”

Up the steps we went, then onto the wide wooden patio and into the house. Hardwood floors in a rich brown and moving boxes, lots and lots of moving boxes. I couldn’t see much else.

“This could be a problem,” he said.

“What could be?” I asked, still upside down, my hair obscuring my view.

“Hang on.” Carefully, he righted me, setting my feet on the floor. All the blood rushed from my head and I staggered. He grabbed my elbows, holding me upright.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. What’s the problem?”

I followed his gaze, looking around at the sparse furnishings. “I thought you said you lived here,” I said, as I stepped inside of the foyer and looked around.

Rhysand shut the front door behind me. As I was looking out of the floor-length front windows at the beach beyond, he said, “I haven’t been here in a while. Not much time to come home, you know?”

I nodded, as if I agreed, but I really had no idea. I had no idea what it was like to constantly be on the road, in different cities, in different countries.

To be away from home for months, for years, and having to cope with homesickness.

“I thought there’d be more furniture,” he said.

I turned to look at him. “You’ve never been here before?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Apart from boxes there were more boxes. They were everywhere. We stood in a large central room with a huge stone fireplace set in the far wall. You could roast a whole cow in the thing if you were so inclined. Stairs led to a second floor above and another level below this one. A dining room and open-plan kitchen came next. The place was a combination of floor-to-ceiling glass, neat lines of logs, and gray stonework. The perfect mix of old and new design techniques. It was stunning. But then all the places he lived in seemed to be.

I wondered what he’d make of my and Joey’s tiny bedraggled apartment. A silly thought. As if he’d ever see it.

“At least they got a fridge.” He pulled one of the large stainless steel doors open. Every inch of space inside had been packed with food and beverages. “Excellent.”

“Who are ‘they’?” I asked, following behind him.

“The people that look after the place for me. Friends of mine. I called them, asked them to sort some stuff out for us.” He pulled out a beer and popped the lid. “Cheers.”

I smiled, amused. “For breakfast?”

“I’ve been awake for two days. I want a beer, then I want a bed. Man, I hope they thought to get a bed.” Beer in hand, he ambled back through the kitchen and entryway and up the stairs. I followed, curious.

He pushed open one bedroom door after another. There were four in total and each had its own bathroom because cool, rich people clearly couldn’t share. At the final door at the end of the hall he stopped and sagged with relief. “Thank fuck for that.”

A kingdom of a bed made up with clean, white sheets waited within. And a couple more boxes.

“What’s with all the boxes?” I asked. “Did they only get one bed?”

“Sometimes I buy stuff on my travels. Sometimes people give me stuff. I’ve just been sending it all here for the last few years. Take a look if you want. And yes, there’s only one bed.” He took another swig of beer. “You think I’m made of money?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Says the guy who got Cartier to open so I could pick out a ring.”

“You remember that?” He smiled around the bottle.

“No, I just assumed given what time of night it must have been.” I wandered over to the wall of windows. Such an amazing view.

“You tried to pick some shitty little thing. I couldn’t believe it.” He stared at me, but his gaze was distant.

I winced. “I threw the ring at the lawyers.”

He flinched and studied his shoes. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m sorry. They just made me so mad.”

“Lawyers do that.” He took another swig of the beer. “Cass said you took a swing at him.”

“I missed.”

“Probably for the best. He’s an idiot but he means well.”

“Yeah, he was really nice to me.” Crossing my arms, I checked out the rest of his big bedroom, wandering into the bathroom. The Jacuzzi would have made Cassian’s curl up in shame. The place was sumptuous. Yet again the feeling of not belonging, of not fitting in with the décor, hit me hard.

“That’s some heavy frown, friend,” he said.

I attempted a smile. “I’m just still trying to figure things out. I mean, is that why you took the plunge in Vegas? Because you’re unhappy? And apart from Cassian, you’re surrounded by jerks?”

“Fuck.” His let his head fall back. “Do we have to keep talking about that night?”

I was getting just as frustrated as he was. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t that, okay?”

“Then what?” I pressed.

“We were in Vegas, Feyre. Shit happens.”

I shut my mouth. Ouch.

“I don’t mean…” He wiped a hand across his face. “Fuck. Look, don’t think it was just all drinking and partying and that’s the only reason anything happened. Why we happened. I wouldn’t want you to think that.”

I threw my arms out. It seemed the only proper response. “But that’s what I do think. That’s exactly what I think. That’s the only way this fits together in my head. When a girl like me wakes up married to a guy like you, what else can she possibly think? God, Rhys, look at you. You’re beautiful, rich, and successful. Tamlin was right, this makes no sense.”

He turned on me, face tight. “Don’t do that. Don’t talk yourself down like that.”

I just sighed, shaking my head.

He went on. “I’m serious. Don’t you ever give what that asshole said another thought, understood?”

“Then give me something. Tell me what it was like between us that night.”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. “Nah. I don’t want to dredge it all up, you know? Water under the bridge or whatever. I just don’t want you thinking that the whole night was some alcohol-fueled frenzy or something, that’s all. Honestly, you didn’t even seem that drunk most of it.”

“Rhys, you’re hedging. Come on. It’s not fair that you remember and I don’t.”

“No,” he said, his voice hard, cold, in a way I hadn’t heard it. He loomed over me, jaw set. “It’s not fair that I remember and you don’t, Feyre.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m going out.” True to his word, he stormed out the door. Heavy footsteps thumped along the hallway and back down the stairs. I stood staring after him.

#snelbz whiv #what happens in vegas #vegas au #feysand #snelbz tacmc collab #snacmc

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loquaciousquark · 4 years

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E111 (Redux! Oct. 13, 2020)

Gooooood evening good evening good evening, all! I started the VOD late for this recap and somehow the first four or so minutes of the show have a Twitch audio copyright claim, so I am reduced to only reading Brian's lips when he asks if we're on the internet. Hilariously, Marisha's background room is a comfy-looking blue/gold fabric wall with a ceramic colorful abstract lamp and a yellow silk scarf over the lampshade, and Taliesin's is an industrial looking games room in grey and black with multiple monitors, overhead speakers, and mysterious metal fixtures behind him. What a treasure this group is, honestly.

Tonight's guests: Marisha Ray & Taliesin Jaffe, discussing episodes 110 and 111 again. I wildly speculate once more about what might have caused their absence: jury duty? Sam appearing on The Masked Singer? Something to do with the animated show? One day, we’ll know, one day... (One day this “copyrighted audio” section will come back from the wars, too. Ugh!) Finally! The audio comes back to reveal Brian discussing the endless reality of digital meetings and Marisha talking about (I think) her glare-reducing glasses she’s wearing. Welcome to the New Age (welcome to the New Age, to the New Age).

Announcements: Marisha suggests checking out Dimension20, another live tabletop gaming group, which premieres live on Wednesdays at 4pm (CollegeHumor).

Brian immediately wants to know how they feel about the revelation that Molly is alive. Taliesin’s personal reaction: he “knows some things” he can’t talk about and is aware of several possibilities that might be going on, but had a sneaking suspicion that there would not be a body for them to find. He says it’s almost all there for anyone to see in past material. Marisha’s personal reaction: she just wants to know how she’s doing with her theories, & was trying to block Tal’s face out deliberately as she was going off on her theories in the last episode. Taliesin says he thought her ideas were pretty good!

Cad has no clue what to think - it’s like listening to your friends talk about Buffy. Marisha thought it was a 50/50 Molly would still be there, but Beau had no idea. Not that it mattered, because as soon as Matt went through with it the reveal still blew their minds. Tal laid out his plans for the character with Matt during Campaign One (towards the end) after they all got their VM tattoos.

It is a “horrifying and gross” thing to dig up a body, and Beau was pretty reluctant to do it. Tal, as Cad: “Sometimes dead’s better.” The moral quandary of trying to speak with a dead friend was very different here than the frequent occasions they used the spell in C1.

Taliesin says his poker face is very bad, so it’s easier for him to over-react and let it all play out. The only other player he can see very easily from his place in their current setup is Travis, and because he knows Travis doesn’t watch TM, tweet, or participate in social media, he admits he thoroughly enjoyed watching Travis freak out at his freaking out. He says he only knew about 20% of what Matt described at the end of that episode. He was picking things to mug to increase Travis’s surprise. I love this so much.

Taliesin provided the table left leg shake; Travis provided table right. Ha!

Beau is really accepting her role in the Cobalt Soul. It’s good when “as a person, you feel like you can settle into your calling. Sometimes you can do more from the inside than fighting from the outside.” It’s a mirrored but opposite path of Keyleth from C1; Beau felt like she was too good for her duty, while Keyleth thought she wasn’t good enough.

Caduceus is not a big believer in jumping to conclusions. He does have an idea/notion of the “city of the undead” and thinks all this necrotic energy must come from somewhere, and wonders if this is the “capital of anti-death.” He’s willing to believe whatever he sees. This is one of the few things that trigger a bit of loathing and disgust in him. It was terrifying that the Wildmother didn’t know anything.

Beau is pretty confident in her Charlie Day impression laying-out-the-research last episode. She enjoyed taking the things that were known & extrapolating around them; this is a huge facet of Marisha’s own personality and she really enjoys it, so she built a character this time that would allow that kind of puzzle-solving. It’s also why she repeatedly notes when Beau journals, so she can avoid metagaming. Trent’s mention of Vess Durogna’s tomb raiding was completely circumstantial, and the only reason she’d made the connection to the Tombtakers was because she’d recently reviewed those notes for a separate unannounced project. Sometimes she tries to make connections and Matt is like, “It was...just descriptive. Just flavor. The curtains were red...” and she has to discard a paragraph of notes. She feels like it’s still something they have to do because of “look at what he does! Look! It’s totally valid!”

Cosplay of the Week: @kitsunstudios with a gorgeous Caduceus with a very intricate silk vest.

Caduceus’s takedown of Trent! One of my favorite moments in the entirety of C2. Taliesin felt Trent was an asshole; Caduceus felt sorry for him because of how dumb he thought he was. Caduceus’s response was "this is the dumbest man I’ve ever met in my life. He’s so dumb! Is nobody going to tell this guy how dumb he is? Oh, they’re all freaked out. Somebody needs to tell this guy he’s an idiot before somebody gets hurt.” (Marisha: “Before?”) Tal says it was the product of several years of therapy and many drunk conversations with Whitney Moore. It was from a genuine place of concern from Caduceus. “How are you allowed to have this much power and be that dumb?”

Brian loved how funny it was to watch everyone tiptoe around Trent and then Caduceus bulldoze through the end of the meal.

Taliesin: “Damage doesn’t make you interesting or better. It’s not what makes you good. Character isn’t found in damage. Just recovery.”

Brian & Marisha commiserate going through the stage where believing surviving something automatically made you a stronger person, better for the pain; instead it just meant you had to pick up the pieces after. Marisha talks about how strength through survival may be true for some people, but it shouldn’t be considered a necessity. Taliesin talks about how he used to think he had to be miserable to write. Brian talks about how believing he liked reading and writing miserable things only limited him for years.

Marisha feels it’s a C2 theme that almost all the PCs have someone trying to handwave or take credit for their accomplishments or explain their pain as being for their own good (Trent, Beau’s dad, Obann). She thinks it’s interesting to see all the various ways people try to take credit for your work/delegitimize you as a person. She loves that RPGs allow you to explore these odd moralities in interesting ways. The only way to fight it is to have a sense of your own self-worth, which is a problem a lot of the M9 started with.

Caduceus likes everyone, and really likes people who appear to need role models (Eodwulf). “With the right friends and the right bar and the right attitude, I think he’d be okay. Come over here where it’s so much better. That seems like an exhausting friendship that you have there.”

Marisha loves the mix of personalities in the M9; Veth, Cad, & Jester were all “we kind of like them!” after the dinner, and she immediately made eye contact with Travis and they both shook their heads. She knows Beau has to go along with it for Caleb’s sake for now, but she & Fjord are pretty sus of Trent’s proteges.

Beau is less concerned about Artagan’s relationship to Jester because “he showed his ass--she’s less worried about Jester now because a little of the magic is gone.” It’s a little like becoming an adult and realizing your parents are also just adults & human. Caduceus wasn’t suspicious of the Traveler for a long time until they got to the island. Aside: Taliesin loves the pantheon in D&D. “The notion of attempting to apply common Western conceptions of religion to a world where you have a pantheon of interventionist gods as baseline makes no sense to me. Everyone admits that every other god is there and doing shit; it has more in common with ancient Rome than anything else.” Now that he knows it was a con, he feels the wind had been taken out of it. He does have a sense that Jester’s gotten back together with an ex: “I hope that I’m really happy for you.” They’re both interested to see how Jester navigates the new relationship.

My internet goes out, of course. I panic for a second, thinking I’ve lost everything above, but all is well! Thanks, Form History Control addon!

Marisha loved punching Artagan, but regretting rolling so poorly. “I miss violence.” Dani lets us know it’s been about four episodes since the last battle.

There’s no way the Cobalt Reserve doesn’t have a single document on the Eyes of Nine. Beau believes “there are no real secrets” because people are just bad at not writing things down. For there to be no information at all seems really suspicious for her.

Fanart of the Week: @oddalchemist on twitter with some awesome Beau conspiracy red-thread boards overlaid a distant shadowy Molly walking away.

Caduceus feels a little guilty for really enjoying his time right now with the M9 and not wanting to go home. He’s starting to suspect that he’s going to go home very different than when he left. “He has the softest problems. I don’t know if I want to move back in with Mom & Dad.”

Beau is trying to get comfortable with the idea of being happy. Jester is probably Beau’s first real best friend & one of the first healthy female friendships she’s ever had. As long as she still has Jester in her life, she doesn’t care. For Yasha... “At the end of the day, Beau is a lonely person and has always been a lonely person. And I think you kinda reach this point where once you’re not lonely anymore, you can kind of come out of the fog and realize that was horrible! And terrifying! And is even more terrifying now that I know what I could have, and I don’t want to go back to that. At the end of the day Beau doesn’t want to be lonely anymore. There’s always been that flirtation with Yasha, but everyone had to figure their own shit out. And now it feels like it’s coming out a little bit of that haze, maybe this actually could be...” There are a lot of ways they complement each other & are good-different from each other. Marisha believes people can be attracted to more than person at once.

Caduceus doesn’t think nature turned against him on Rumblecusp, it was just a reality of nature being dangerous and violent. “He has a complex relationship with nature.” He doesn’t expect special treatment.

Thoughts on the mansion: “Man, it’s nice to be seen.” Marisha: “I don’t know how I ended up becoming the Scanlan of this campaign, but I’m living for it.” It felt like an echo of “I’m better for having known you.” They compare Marisha taking specific notes on the campaign to Liam taking specific notes on people’s favorite tapestries, comics, etc.

They talk about missing theme parks and daydream a park version of the mansion in CritRoleLand. It’s lovely.

Taliesin never expected Divine Intervention to work; he just wanted to roll some dice. He’s still processing what he saw/heard. They all agree it was very useful in the Vokodo fight.

Vilya! Marisha: “Ah! Ah! Ah!” As a player, Marisha was so deep in Beau’s eyes she didn’t pick up it was Vilya at first (especially since Matt really emphasized they should not be looking for C1 NPCs). Marisha’s brain melted. She bawled her eyes out on the ride home after that episode. Right after it ended, Laura told Marisha “Keyleth finally gets her happy ending,” and it makes Marisha emotional again since Keyleth’s story ended so bittersweetly. She talks about the very real feelings of “just wanting them to be happy, though!” She went back and listened to all her old Keyleth playlists. Everyone was teary after the episode. “Everyone has these 100% real memories of being these characters and having these good times.”

And that’s that for that! Thanks for your patience, all, and is it Thursday yet?

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long post for ts

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penguintransporter · 3 years

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Winning The Game Called Love (Hector Bellerin) PART V

Part V of this little piece that I enjoy writing so much. It is a bit longer, but if you ask me, totally worth your time. The entire story was inspired by the outfit in the picture, so I wanted to post it. Also, I kinda want to dedicate this chapter to one and only @varanest because of all the support I got, and of course all you anons that decided to write me - you have no idea how much it means to get encouragement for one’s work. Anyway, this was supposed to be the last part, but I think there will be one more after this because I don’t want to leave you hanging (epilogue maybe?) Let me know what you think...

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

________

Aida wrapped her long coat tighter around her body, trying to stop herself from shivering even if she was well aware that she wasn’t doing so because she was cold.

Her battered Dr. Martens boots echoed as she walked along the edge of the vast parking lot, and except for few expensive-looking cars parked randomly and a very bored security guard, sitting in his small cubicle, watching Fawlty Towers – it was completely empty.

Aida pulled her phone out, nervously checking the time, but deep down she was just doing it in order to see if there was maybe a text message from Héctor, telling her where to look for him.

What if this is all just a prank?

Was he watching her now, laughing his arse off?

Just as she was about to jump on the train of doubtful thoughts and untrue conclusions, she spotted him – her heartbeat speeding up ever so slightly.

Héctor was leaning on the wall, illuminated by the spotlights surrounding the exit doors – eyes trained on his phone as he lazily moved his thumb across the screen. Aida’s stomach did a quick flip as she stopped for a second, observing him from from afar - letting the familiar rush of excitement run through her, followed by yet another shiver.

This time she didn’t even try to make herself believe that it was because of the low temperatures.

Deciding that she had been creeping on Héctor for too long – not that she could be blamed in the first place, Aida started walking towards him – her heart beating loudly in her ears, masking the noise that her boots made. Nervously, she smoothed down her clothes, exhaling softly.

Héctor looked up at her as she approached – a slow grin appearing across his face as he slid his phone in the pocket of his trousers. Aida smiled back feeling her bile rising as she quickened her pace, and before she could say or do anything, Héctor had already pulled her into one of those hugs that made any other hug she received less important.

Surprised by the sudden and unexpected contact, Aida wrapped her hands around him awkwardly.

It was a mistake, she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself – inhaling deeply, she let her guard down for just a few seconds, enjoying their closeness. Aida could tell that he recently had his post-match shower, both by his scent and the wet tips of his hair that tickled her face as they hugged.

“Nice to see you,” Héctor spoke, breaking the hug, and Aida, for the lack of better reaction, smiled softly as she took a reluctant step backwards. There was nothing more she wanted than to stay in his embrace for much longer, but she had to maintain healthy distance – after all, they weren’t even – heck, Aida didn’t even know what they were.

Still, that pretend distance that was supposed to keep her feelings in check meant nothing once Héctor gave her a cheeky once-over, grinning like an idiot. Not knowing what to do or say, Aida nervously pulled at the strings of the hoodie she was wearing – suddenly feeling warm throughout her entire body.

She was blushing.

You’re acting like an idiot, Aida.

Héctor smirked at her – index finger moving closer to her chin only to tug the string out of her grip gently, muttering something in Spanish.

Or was it English? Catalan?

“I hope you don’t mind me wearing it in public,” Aida muttered, smoothing down the hoodie while avoiding looking at him. When he didn’t say anything, she continued, trying to sound like her normal self that seemed to be lost somewhere between her feelings for the handsome right-back and the intense brown of his eyes, “I really enjoyed the match, thanks for inviting me.”

“All of it? Or just the last fifteen minutes that I was out on the pitch?” Héctor teased, giving her a small wink. Aida felt that familiar warmth wash over her yet again as he pointed at the exit doors behind him. “It’s a good thing that we won, then. That goal was a proper beauty.”

Aida, deciding that her sarcasm might be her best bet, gave him her best fake surprised face as he stepped forward, opening the doors for her and holding them in place. “Wait, what?” she asked, suppressing a smile, “are you trying to tell me that you weren’t the lads in blue?”

Héctor laughed lightly, adjusting the red beanie on his head, and it made Aida stop for a second when she realised how well put together he actually looked – despite playing a major game just an hour before. From the choice of his clothes to the tiny details like his cross earring and few statement rings on his long, tattooed fingers.

Stop staring.

“You humour me,” Héctor retorted as Aida she squeezed herself next to him and took a few steps towards the glint of light that was coming from the world outside.

“Look, I will stand here and all you have to do is try to kick the ball past me,” Héctor instructed, still crouching in front of her where he was adjusting ‘the ball’.

She enjoyed the silly competitions - never failing to make a fool out of herself willingly or not, and she had nothing against some football, despite being very, very bad at it, but as Héctor tried to explain the challenge, Aida noted two problems.

First – the ground beneath her boots was slightly muddy, sticking to the soles of her boots, and second – the ball that Héctor was fixing wasn’t actually a ball, but a pine cone that he kept hitting as they walked through the park since they arrived.

For some reason or another, they ended up in Highbury Fields – taking the empty pathway along the rows of naked trees and wintery bushes, and despite the silence between them, Aida enjoyed their stroll as she stole glances at him every now and then like a lovesick schoolgirl. The park seemed to be very quiet just for them, with only occasional passerby that didn’t even spare a second look at the professional footballer and a petite brunette with rosy cheeks next to him.

“It’s ridiculous,” she commented, adjusting her hat nervously. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I have two lefts attached to my body.”

Héctor chuckled at her, glancing quickly at her. “You just have to believe in yourself.”

“Easy for you to say,” Aida huffed, “it’s like competing against, I don’t know—have you seen yourself on the pitch?”

“Few times, but I am glad to find out that you did as well,” Héctor teased as Aida felt her stomach being evaded by thousands of butterflies. “Would it help if I motivated you somehow?”

Aida looked down at him, finding herself both annoyed and turned on with his cheeky smirk. She could sense that he had an idea on his mind, and frankly, she was slightly scared. “Go on, vice-captain…” Aida urged, placing both of her hands on her waist.

“That ball—,”

“—Pine cone, you mean?”

Héctor made a silly face at her, and once again, her stomach made a flip.

“That pine cone,” he corrected himself, “if you manage to get it past me, I am buying you dinner after this. There’s a great vegan place down the road, and I’ve been peckish for a while now.”

Aida blushed, imagining them sitting at the table together, candle burning in middle, and his hand slowly touching hers— she stopped herself, shaking her head lightly.

You need to stop watching Hallmark movies.

“And if I don’t?” Aida asked, composing herself.

“I haven’t thought about it,” he spoke as he got up, dusting his hands against his trousers before giving her a look under his eyebrows. “Come on, unicorn. Have faith in yourself because I do.”

Not only did she lost the challenge, but she has also managed to fall on her arse and stain her relatively new coat with the wet mud. Despite giving her best, Aida knew that with her two left legs and balance or rather lack of it, she wasn’t going to win this one, no matter how much he tried to make it easy for her.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” she grinned at him like a Cheshire cat, brushing her coat with her hands as he took off his hat for a second, running his fingers through his locks before putting it back in the place.

Héctor stifled a laugh before hitting the unlucky pine cone with a real force, making it fly and land along the bushes, few meters away. “It wasn’t that bad,” he grinned, and Aida rolled her eyes at him. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Who? My granny?” she joked as Héctor took a step closer, only to pull her hat over her eyes, making her gasp and swat his hand away. “I was actually looking forward to that dinner,” Aida added with a sigh.

“It can still happen, y’know?”

“That’s because you’re peckish, innit?” Aida teased back, blushing lightly as Héctor smirked at her.

Slowly, they made their way down the long stretch of park, towards the exit as Aida tried to come up with something to say. She knew that she had no need to keep talking, but she enjoyed the silly banter with him; it was relaxing her.

Aida looked around the park.

The dusk had already set – the layer of fog forming slowly, and despite the gloominess of the winter, it looked beautiful. She stuck her hands in her pockets as she observed the nature surrounding them.

“I was wondering…” Aida started softly after a while – a thought that has been bouncing around her mind, tickled her curiosity.

“Hmm?” Héctor hummed as Aida glanced up at him – her heart making a dip into her stomach.

Hot. Ridiculously hot.

“Why did you want to meet up after the match?” she asked, making a detour around a small pool of mud in front of her. “And most importantly, how did you get my number?”

Héctor laughed lightly, glancing at her and Aida quickly looked away. “Blimey, are you always this curious?”

“Sometimes,” she teased, but on the inside she was becoming a nervous wreck. Héctor stopped for a second; Aida did the same, feeling of anticipation growing inside of her as she waited for his answer. “Come on, Hec,” she added softly, using his nickname for the first time.

He took a step closer – his face shadowed by something else other than his boyish demeanour; something that Aida couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

“Let’s say that I suddenly got curious about magical creatures,” he finally answered – the corner of his lips moving upwards as he took a step back away, starting to walk again. “Also, you still owe me a sign language tutorial. Don’t think I forgot about that.”

It was Aida’s turn to giggle as she caught up with him. “Hate to say this, but not many birds would appreciate that kind of flirting, Héctor.”

“What about you? Would you appreciate it?” he asked nonchalantly and Aida’s breath hitched in her throat.

How can he say something like that and keep his cool?

For what seemed like ages, Aida tried to make herself breathe again. The only thing she was able to do as she tried to gain back her composure was to open and close her mouth like a fish. It certainly didn’t help that Héctor kept his eyes trained on her, smirking mischievously.

He was more than pleased with himself.

“I… I’m, ugh – idiot,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Héctor chuckled, tugging at her coat sleeve, making her look up at him. “My God, you are unbelievable, but in a good way.”

Aida blushed a further shade of red as she looked at him, wishing she wasn’t because a certain type of tension was growing between them and it made her heartbeat accelerate.

“It’s all your fault,” she blurted out, quickly realising that she actually voiced her thoughts instead of keeping them inside her head. Burned with the realisation that she humiliated herself once again, she took a step back.

“Guilty as charged,” he grinned at her playfully, and all Aida wanted to do was to find a rock and hide underneath it for a while. “Y’know, I wasn’t joking with what I said about the dinner,” Héctor started, switching the subject casually as Aida managed to gain some of her confidence back – her cheeks cooling down ever so slightly, “but you still need to keep the end of your bargain.”

“And here I thought you forgot about it, silly me,” she joked back, trying to sound cool, but on the inside she was feeling the nervousness growing yet again. “What do I have to do?” Aida asked, pretending that she was ready for whatever he had in his mind.

“Kiss me,” Héctor responded nonchalantly as if he was asking her about the time or as if he was wondering if it was raining outside.

Aida swallowed – her eyes going wide for a second as her mind shut itself. She was desperately trying to find the goddamn switch, but it was in vain.

She was not ready for this.

“Fine,” she whispered, nervously sticking her hands in the pockets of her coat. “A kiss,” she repeated and Héctor nodded, looking at her with a small smile dancing on his lips as he waited. She nodded as well, more as an encouragement to herself before taking a step towards him.

Without wasting a moment, she tiptoed ever so slightly, giving him a peck on the cheek - softness of his skin surprising her for a second. Not pleased with the execution, but glad that she didn’t humiliate herself once again, she smiled, taking a step back and in the direction of the exit gates that were in front of them.

Before she knew what was happening, Héctor’s hand pulled at her arm, and Aida only blinked fast couple of times when she found herself facing him once again. He was gently pulling her closer towards him - one of his eyebrows rising slightly as he locked his eyes with hers. Aida waited for that cocky grin of his to appear on his face, but it didn’t; not this time.

She only saw moments like this in the movies and TV shows, and more than often she wondered if they existed in real life or if they were just a product of creative freedom. Whatever the case was, Aida wasn’t sure what was she supposed to feel because instead of the romantic anticipation she imagined when watching those, all she felt was a turmoil of butterflies in her stomach and a slight wave of panic rising inside of her.

Aida blushed a deep shade of red as Héctor’s arm sneaked around her waist, underneath her open coat, and for a second, she thought that her heart had stopped beating.

“For someone who knows the sign language, you really are very bad at reading them.”

“You didn’t specify— it’s not the same,” she breathed out shakily as Héctor’s other hand went up to her cheek where it settled perfectly against her jawline as he drew her in closer. The rings he wore felt cool against her burning skin as he watched her – eyes searching for a silent encouragement in hers. “Héctor,” Aida mumbled, heat rising inside of her, “whatever you’re about to do, can you just do it?”

She didn’t expect him to laugh, yet he did – throwing his head back for a second before looking back at her, and just when she was thinking that he was only teasing her, he leaned down, capturing her lips in proper kiss. The moment it happened, her eyelids fluttered close and she felt a tingle ran down her spine – her legs suddenly becoming weak. Quickly, she pulled her hands out of her pockets, sneaking them around his neck for support.

Maybe that was exactly what he was waiting for because Aida could feel him deepen the kiss, pulling her even closer.

There were moments, many of them, if she was going to be honest, when she wondered how it would feel to have his lips against hers, and now that she finally had the chance, Aida didn’t want to stop, and it scared her. Getting on her tiptoes, she brought herself closer, wanting him to know that she wanted the kiss; that she needed him to kiss her, and just as she started to relax into him, the kiss became just a gentle brush of his full lips against hers.

Much to her dismay, Héctor pulled away, and she suddenly became childishly shy, looking bashfully down at their shoes.

Do I say something now?

Is it wrong that I want to snog him again?

You just kissed Héctor, Aida.

“Much better,” Héctor smirked, giving his bottom lip a small bite as Aida glanced up at him, wondering what was going through his mind. Did he feel the same tingles as she did? Does he want to kiss her again as much as she wants to kiss him?

“Uhm—,” Aida trailed off, nervously looking away – her arms nervously swaying as Héctor took a step back while running his hand along his jaw. Aida felt a shiver of cold run through her, suddenly missing the the warmth of his hand against her face; his arm around her waist.

“Hungry?” he suddenly asked, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Aida didn’t say anything, but nodded confusedly, closing her eyes for a second as they started walking towards the exit gate – a small but timid smile appearing on her lips.

#footballers #footballer fanfiction #Football Fanfiction #footballer imagine #football imagine #soccer fanfiction #soccer imagine #soccer oneshot #soccer imagines #hector bellerin fan fiction #hector bellerin fanfiction #hector bellerin fic #hector bellerin imagine #hector bellerin oneshot #arsenal fc fanfiction

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magebastard · 3 years

Text

(ok thank you so much @possumsunshine for making this big fat wayhaven detective questionnaire i had FUN doing it)

QUICK READ OF YOUR DETECTIVE

Name: lane m. wheatley

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: bisexual

Love interest: mason

Best friend: unit bravo all of them

Main skill: people

Secondary skill: science

Main personality trait: genuine

Secondary personality trait: easygoing

Why did they join the Wayhaven PD?: wants to protect people

Relationship with Rebecca: bad so bad laughably bad

Relationship with Bobby: ex

Verda or Tina?: verda

Murphy bite?: neck

Murphy’s fate?: captured

Rescue LI or Rescue Sanja?: mason she panicked

GENERAL

Name: lane marshall wheatley

Nickname: detective (affectionate)

Birthday: december 8th

Age: 27

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: bisexual

Hair color: honey blonde

Eye color: dark brown

Height: 5’1

Piercings: a few holes in her ears and her septum but she very rarely wears the septum ring

Tattoos: a rat on her left thigh, a stick and poke that says dunkin donuts on the inside of her left ankle

Clothing Style: smart. blazers and slacks. very shiny loafers. big bulky wristwatch. christopher moltisanti from the sopranos.

Apartment Style: dark. but fully furnished by bulk trash day

STATS

Personality:

Charming | Intimidating

Impulsive | Cautious

Sarcastic | Genuine

Friendly | Stoic

Easygoing | Stubborn

Traits:

Heart | Mind

Optimist | Pessimist

Team Player | Independent

Skills:

Main Skill: people

Second Skill: science/technology

By the Book | Bend the Rules

KEY DECISIONS

Reason for joining the Wayhaven PD: wants to protect people

Murphy bite: Wrist | Neck | None

Murphy’s Fate: Captured | Escaped

Rescued: Love Interest | Sanja

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP

Love Interest: mason

Why them?: ok time to be A Bit Much™️ but she immediately identifies herself in mason. like felix and nate are open and kind which she tries to embody, and adam respects her so long as she does her job which she understands and appreciates. she doesn’t understand or relate to any of them in a romantic sense. with mason she sees that ‘oh, he likes to hook up and flirt. he’s kind of grumpy but that’s fine i also pretty much exclusively only hook up and flirt. so that could happen.’

Bold, shy, or mixed?: bold

What were their first impressions of each other?: for lane, mason immediately pissed her off. she was very stressed out by the case and rebecca’s sudden appearance and adam’s attitude, so her patience was so thin and she just didn’t care about much beyond solving the mystery of the murder. she thought he might have seen her in a weak spot and pointedly ribbed her because of it so she was like “i literally just need to learn to ignore this man.”

for mason, it was a weird mixed bag, because he could pick up on lane’s reluctance to work with a team—especially rebecca’s team. with that impression in mind, he sees her cast all of her personal feelings aside for the sake of solving the case and protecting the town, and he relates to that instinct. other than that, he was generally annoyed that they had to work with her

What do they find attractive about each other, mentally or physically?: everything for sure but specifically their favorite features -

for lane: mason’s freckles and his long nose and hands. mentally, it’s his honesty and sense of humor

for mason: lane’s eyes, cheeks when she smiles, legs. mentally, it’s her open mindedness and protective nature

What do they do to spend time together?: they go on walks, lane tries to find mason’s favorite music, they watch movies, they go on long drives, they sit at the lighthouse, they watch sunsets together, they stare at the moon

What is their favorite memory together?: they make a lot! the first time they quietly sit together on the roof of the warehouse becomes especially important to them both over time

What are their love languages?: touch, quality time, lane is half in/half out on words of affirmation

How do they handle being apart from one another?: ok deep romance mason feels the brunt of hypersensitivity with also the ache of loss so he mostly sulks and sticks to his room. lane kind of walks around on autopilot. not really realizing it, but definitely experiencing heavy brain fog and going home and berating herself for being needy but also crying

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: they don’t really argue! mason doesn’t really think not to speak his mind and lane is very communicative and easygoing. they bicker when one of them ends up in avoidable danger, but it usually ends with a quiet “i need you to stay safe.” something w that sentiment

What does their future look like?: traveling and a lake house. staying with unit bravo through thick and thin. lane turns when she’s 29, and they stay in wayhaven until she turns about 45 and eyebrows start to raise.

Anything else you’d like to share: they do get married. it’s a very small and very private ceremony that doesn’t really matter much to either of them but conceptually being husband and wife feels very funny and novel and also just makes sense

BEST FRIEND RELATIONSHIP

Best friend: i cannot choose but for this instance i will go with nate

Why them?: they talk a lot about literature and food and music and lane bids on antique furniture for nate because he doesn’t know how to use ebay. it’s a very precious friendship for them both

What were their first impressions of each other?: lane is weary of nate because he’s so charming that she worries that maybe he’s TOO confident. it passes when he gives that exasperated vibe off over felix being overtly outgoing in like a “oh he’s the parent” kind of way. he also has this comforting presence and she worries that he assumes she needs to be comforted. nate is weary of lane because while he’d never assume that someone is incapable at first glance, lane looks like a stiff wind would blow her over and that she hasn’t slept in a year. also his first genuine sight and impression of her is this tiny person taking a coffee pot apart piece by piece and grumbling very angrily to herself.

What do they do to spend time together?: nate purchases period piece luxury furniture and sometimes it is not in the best condition so lane and nate restore old furniture together. they debate about shakespeare and different genres of music. sometimes they play together. they swap recipes and while nate doesn’t gossip much, he always listens to station drama over tea/coffee.

Anything else you’d like to share: nate is the first person lane talks to about becoming a vampire. she knows he has his own reservations and she needs to hear them. also lane, nate and felix paint each other’s nails every few weeks. adam has an open invitation that he cashes in maybe twice a year.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Rebecca: bad! they are strangers to each other and also very sad reflections of one another. rebecca makes lane feel so small without even trying

Relationship with Rook: rook was as beloved in wayhaven as lane is now, if not more so. she hears about him in stories that every adult in town seem to know. he’s her hero and she’s always a bit devastated that she never got to know him. lane had a crisis of identity in her sophomore year of college and suddenly the stories she’d always heard felt like a calling to try to be good like rook. this ends up being why she declared her major in forensic science and started working towards becoming a detective like he was

Relationship with Bobby: it’s pretty much fine. neither of them were great when they were together and lane feels a bit bad now because she definitely used him. he did the same, for a few reasons. they’re okay now, but lane kind of feels kind of weird about the 8 months they dated.

Relationship with Verda: they are science best friends. they drink wine on the porch on summer nights, and lane babysits the kids when sol and eric need a night off

Relationship with Tina: very close. your best coworker friend who you start spending time with outside of work and then you realize that you are almost spending all of your time together with them actually. lane’s spent the last two years worth of holidays with the ponames

Relationship with the Mayor: not great! she’s very ‘by the book’ but always takes the chance to snark him. used to egg his house as a teen

Relationship with Capt. Sung: she sees him as a weird general manager at work and can be fine with small and idle chatting when they run into each other at town functions

Relationship with Haley: haley and lane hooked up a lot when lane and bobby broke up. they were band kids in high school together and it’s a very important friendship for lane

Relationship with Elidor: she is so comforted by this fae man. they talk science, they chat about personal dreams, huge hugs.

Relationship with Tapeesa/Vieno: lane has a friendly relationship with vieno! they call her buddy and she internally is like “i am! i am your buddy!”

Relationship with Unit Alpha: dunks on maaka for making fun of nate and adam. they’re pretty blunt and open and she likes that energy a lot

Relationship with the Maa-alused: a lot of guilt over them losing their home. lane gets the vibe that falk was flirting but she didn’t want to assume but also she was into it. devastated by the fact that she could have saved sanja if she hadn’t let her feelings cloud her sense of logic.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?):

this is. a lot. (CW death and vehicular trauma) there was a boy who lane grew up with, who lived in the house across the street from her childhood home. by far, her best friend. they started dating freshman year of high school, and ended up in the same university, still together. lane was a comm major until her sophomore year and the two of them started a band in high school that became the band that lane was in for years.

in their sophomore yr of college, he proposed and lane said yes, of course, they had NO plan or any idea outside of the band of what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. that same year, they ended up in a car crash and he did not make it. this is what triggered lane to kind of lose a lot of her sense of identity. she found comfort in stories about rook and decided that—with no direction, who would be better to emulate than her hero? her partner’s name was david, they were soulmates and ya she still misses him

other than that, the two other guys that were in the band who she has not seen since the funeral. i have this idea in my head of writing the scene where they visit and meet unti bravo which would be entirely for me and my own little rat brain

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: very laid back and open/honest. easygoing

Strengths: very detail oriented, can spot the faintest whiff of a pattern and connect dots with sparse evidence. emotionally driven to the point that she pushes herself beyond her limits to do a job well. very technologically savvy

Weaknesses: emotionally driven lmao cannot separate herself from a case once she’s started, feels personally responsible for everyone she could not save. bottles up her anger until she has no choice but to deal w it via crying.

Where in the world is their Wayhaven?: somewhere on the east coast. near a wawa

What is their personal history?: lane is a town stray. she had her house with nannies and agency babysitters who weren’t invested in her emotional growth and well-being, so her defacto family is uh all of wayhaven. neighbors, mailmen, friends parents, shop owners. she connects as much as she can with everyone in town. she drifts a lot between them, and after the accident she realizes that she would do anything to protect these people

If they weren’t a detective, what would their dream job be?: if rook were never a detective, lane would have probably leaned less on stories of his heroism. she probably would have stuck closer to her friends and tried to commit to making music her full time job

Anything else you’d like to share: she picked up smoking very young and it’s genuinely surprising to people that she has never questioned why she does it or that she’s never had any intention of quitting ever

RANDOM FACTS

Zodiac sign: sagittarius

Hobbies: furniture restoration, making music, walking, cooking/baking

Likes: a funky little bass line, marlboro menthols, giving piggy back rides, painting walls, being a lab tech and assistant for verda, sitting on the kitchen counter in the middle of the night

Dislikes: arguing, loud noises, when it gets too hot outside, when it gets too cold outside, when she catches someone in a lie and they continue to deny it

Drink of choice: black coffee w a little cinnamon mixed in the grounds

Starbucks order: 6 shot latte w soy

Favorite food: grilled eggplant

Favorite color: this color is called black bean it’s this

Favorite music: not to be annoying but truly all of it there is something she can enjoy in every genre but early 2000’s rnb and hard core punk probably

Favorite genre (and favorite movie/book/etc): she loves a rom com but also thrillers. her favorite movies are muppets treasure island and ratatouille

Favorite season: spring!

Anything else you’d like to share: her car’s name is Hank

#c: lane wheatley #not gonna put this in tags because it is mostly for me #smoking cw #food cw #drink cw #twc #aaaaaa thank u again for making this #cw death mention #cw vehicular trauma #alcohol ment #why am i nervous about posting this lmao

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jinxvrse · 3 years

Text

SALT CIRCLES

— in which the jinx dorm has a little infestation problem

characters / the jinx ensemble, han seoyeon

words / 4.1k

warnings / none — if i missed any please let me know!

“My friend is coming over soon, she knows what to do.” Yue had finally put her phone down for perhaps the first time in the last thirty five minutes.

“How odd,” Blue commented, Yue pretended not to hear it.

“So before whoever that is comes over can we go over what exactly is happening again because I’m having some trouble really understanding this whole thing.” Jiyoon’s anger was visible in her voice, fists bunched with a face nearly a redder shade than her ginger hair.

Rosie just swallowed the heavy lump in her throat, mostly scared that that thing was going to appear over her head again and swipe her into whatever land it came from.

“Isn’t it simple? Roro summoned a demon and now our lives could possibly be endangered.” Miran’s smile told Rosie everything she needed to know about her thoughts on the situation, her happy-go-lucky tone was the bigger tell despite her grim words.

Miran was most certainly excited about the prospect of something supernatural going on in their dorm, no matter how dangerous the idea of it was. She was always a fanatic for this type of stuff so it was no surprise to Rosie or any of the others that she couldn’t care less about the ‘could possibly kill us all’ aspect of this.

“It's actually not that simple but I don’t know the acute details of what Rosie did.” Yue spoke up, her voice still as monotone as ever.

“Oh and how do you know so much about all this freaky stuff? In fact it was your ‘thing’ she was using to get it to come here in the first place.” Jiyoon was surely irritated but back talking to Yue was something many people were too afraid to do.

The other girls bit their cheeks upon the interaction, the atmosphere of the room proving far too tense for the five of them. They watched in anticipation for Yue’s next moves, wondering if she’d stay calm this time or match Jiyoon’s anger, maybe more.

“Don’t misplace your anger with me, Kim Jiyoon.” Yue’s voice never changed, although anyone could note the venom sitting behind her words. “Believe me, I know a lot more than you do and you should just trust me and my friend on this one.”

The room eased a little without the threat of a potential fight happening right there in their living room but the situation at hand was far too distracting for them to completely calm down. With Blue curled up in a corner, Rosie and Miran attached to each other by the hip and Yue and Jiyoon standing far from each other in different corners of their room a painfully long silence would be overtaking the group before the mystery friend would come and deal with the issue.

It would be another thirty five minutes before Yue’s friend buzzed into their apartment. Each girl was eager to see who this person was, sitting on the very edge of their seats to see who would walk through the door. However, it was their surprise when a woman roughly the same age as them appeared behind Yue and not some wizened old crone who knew years of ‘demonology’ there to fight the demon away.

“This is Han Seoyeon,” Yue nearly shoved the girl inside the apartment, “and she is going to solve all our problems.” The rest of them greeted her with awkward and unenthusiastic waves.

Seoyeon had bright red hair, almost redder than the t-shirt Rosie had on. Both her arms were decorated with tattoos, some in colour and some just linework, but she was illustrated like a high school desk with drawings of crystals and flowers. One tattoo stood out the most to Rosie, a detailed bright purple amethyst drawn on Seoyeon’s left arm, just looking at it calmed her down almost to a point where she worried no more about the imminent threat living under her bed.

“What does Seoyeon do?” Blue put on a smile for the girl, trying her best not to appear antsy for their house guest.

Seoyeon returned Blue’s smile with one of her own, her pearly white teeth grinning back at the girl. “Officially I’m a bartender at a place in Hongdae, unofficially I’m a witch.”

Jiyoon let out a pained laugh, clamping her hand to her mouth out of feigned politeness. “I’m sorry, you want me to believe that witches are real?”

“And you’ll believe a spirit’s living in your house? I’m used to skeptics but it’s especially funny coming from someone who appears to be haunted from the energy I’m feeling here.” Seoyeon’s smile never faltered, there was a specific confidence that she emanated and it definitely inspired Rosie in ways she never thought she could feel.

“What? Do you need to see it in action to believe it?” Seoyeon found a seat at one of the dining table chairs, taking it as though it were her throne with her legs crossed and a hand coming to lean against her chin.

“You, Jiyoon, are feeling anxious above all but you’re hiding it behind anger because what if this thing really does kill you and you can’t protect Yoonsung and Jiah, your little siblings, right?” A smirk painted her pretty face when she saw Jiyoon contort in confusion.

“H-How do you know their names?” Jiyoon could barely utter out her sentence, this was probably the first time any of them had seen her lost for words in years.

“I’m a psychic, not a powerful one but I can find out a few things about someone if I focus hard enough.” The redhead tapped at her forehead, signalling a third eye. Rosie might actually believe one would appear in a matter of seconds but her forehead remained eye-free.

Miran let out a light giggle at seeing Jiyoon so dumbstruck, immediately pulling herself together with a serious expression once she caught Jiyoon staring her down.

“Now will you let me do my job?” Seoyeon stood up again, her head held high and her eyes scanning the room around her.

The girls had no qualms about anything she had to say anymore, they had just about seen and heard everything they needed to believe they were in this predicament and there was no reason to not let her carry out her investigation. Despite this they were still seemingly surprised when they watched as Seoyeon started to do her thing.

Little tendrils of pink and green fluttered through Seoyeon’s fingers, the distinct smell of burnt sugar surrounding the girls and filling up the room. The feeling was light on her palms, like fire without the heat, ticklish against the smooth skin. She watched as the girls’ eyes followed the magic jumping from her fingerprints.

Her fingers ran through the walls of the dorm living room, tattoos and veins glowing the same bright pink and green colour, each line fading and reappearing with her heartbeat as she walked. It left Rosie in awe, she never thought magic could really be real, not until seeing everything she had witnessed in the last twenty four hours.

She glanced over to look at her other members, their faces not nearly as shocked as her own. She could get behind Miran not being entirely surprised, seeing as she was always a believer and lived in her own little land, but the other two were more grounded in real life than they were. Rosie remembered how skeptical Jiyoon was of her story when she told her earlier that night or how Blue laughed thinking it was a joke. Maybe Yue’s insistence finally made them believe her but would they have done so without the older girl’s slightly threatening presence?

“The good news is it’s not a malevolent spirit, just a tricky one.” All the girls sighed in relief upon hearing Seoyeon’s words.

“What’s the bad?” Blue questioned, hands massaging her temples like this was all some bad dream.

Seoyeon exhaled deeply, there’s no way things could possibly get worse for them, right? “It’s not leaving for a while, it’s screaming at me that it loves this place too much.”

“So we just have to deal with a literal demon living with us?” Jiyoon groaned, barely hiding her annoyance from the other girls.

Blue simply laughed, the exhaustion was getting to her. Anyone could see so with her dark circles and slouched stance, after all she had been up for so many hours doing this and that around the dorm in an attempt to fix the problem herself. Seeing how her laughter continued on creepily in the background maybe she was going hysterical with everything going on.

“There are ways to force the spirit back to wherever it came from but I am definitely not powerful enough to do that, many aren’t.” Seoyeon casts her eyes over to Yue, lazily staring at her for a second before diverting her gaze elsewhere.

“I am so going to have to move out.” Jiyoon mumbled, the disbelief settling behind her eyes.

“Well for the time being why don’t you just give ‘em a name, treat it like a nice lodger and it’ll leave eventually.” She seemed so nonchalant as she talked, like this was an everyday occurrence in Seoul or whatever witch land she came from.

“That’s all I can do for you but before I go I have to ask, how exactly did you bring this spirit here?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on Rosie, the stares causing her to recoil back into her seat on the sofa. Their stares spoke a thousand words to Rosie and it only made her feel more reluctant to actually say anything, she’d much rather run back to the safety of her bed and pretend this was one hell of a dream.

“I saw this one video on TikTok that said if you’re lonely summon this spirit to be your friend for a couple hours,” Rosie hung her head low as she spoke, avoiding the likely judgemental stares from her group mates. “It was stupid I know and I didn’t even believe it would work but...I had to try it.”

She raised her head slightly, catching a glimpse of Seoyeon with a hand to her chest, a warm smile on her face. She wasn’t outright stating it but Rosie could feel her sympathy radiating off of her like sunbeams, she’s glad Yue called her over because at least someone in that house would try to understand why she would do something like that.

“I found a bunch of witchy stuff in Yue’s room and got to work.” She shot a apologetic glance in the Chinese girl’s direction, “if you want the details, I was using this diamond necklace of mine as a pendulum to communicate with the spirit and I must’ve let it into the house as we talked because the diamond was swinging all on it’s own like crazy.”

Rosie recalled the memories of last night, she was the only one in the dorms, the other four all doing things that didn’t seem to involve her. It was the third time that week, she was just tired of being left out and the feeling of loneliness had been boiling in her blood for far too long.

Jiyoon already had a best friend and the last time they’d had a genuine conversation outside of the practice room must have been months ago. Yue and Miran had become awfully close in the last few months, often leaving the others out of their shared world, and Blue had been out doing god knows what with someone she was never going to text back. Heck, even her own brother was barely responding to her texts, probably off somewhere getting high and pretending she didn’t know about his problem.

There was no need to wiggle her way into places she wasn’t wanted so she decided she'd find someone else to talk to, despite how extreme the solution she came to must’ve seemed to others.

Even if the spell hadn’t worked, there would have always been that thought settling in the back of her mind hoping that it did so that maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with knowing the fact that no one wanted her. A fact that had become as clear as day when she watched each of her members frown in disappointment at what she’d done when they had finally come home to a teary-eyed Rosie, an oddly humanoid shadow standing behind her to confirm her story.

“Well who hasn’t accidentally summoned a spirit in their youth?” Rosie hadn’t realised a silence had formed since her last words until Seoyeon cleared her throat, the lopsided smile still on her face. “Next time I’d recommend you use salt circles, it’ll protect you a little better.”

Yue rubbed her eyes, chuckling softly at Seoyeon’s joke. She flashed a smile at her friend before retiring to her room, the rest of the girls could chat with her or show her out because, quite frankly, she was tired and just wanted to go to bed.

Closing the door behind her, Yue sighed at finally being alone, flopping onto her bed and closing her eyes. Images of Seoyeon’s magic raced through her mind, the sight of the pink and green was oddly addicting, pulling Yue up from the bed and staring into her hands in front of her.

Each vein began to run an icy blue, backlit behind her pale skin. Tiny translucent wisps prickled all around her body, congregating within her palms like an ice that burned through her veins, taking over her entire body in a wave of cold fire.

She winced upon the feeling, not because it hurt, it was more of a tension within her hands, made her eyes itch, that was all. No, the problem was that she liked it, all of it, the feeling of power in her hands, like she could do anything. She could do anything but that’s what got her here in the first place, running to Seoyeon for help because she wanted to hide all of it.

Even though she promised herself she wouldn’t practice anymore, she was always a little bit curious as to how much magic she could gather all on her own. Yue was admittedly a little rusty, mostly due to the blockage that had built up within herself from the years she had abstained from all of this. It took her several minutes to get the candles to burst aflame but it made her feel...something, something that excited her just a little bit too much.

She stared into the flame of the candle closest to her, it flickered violently with just her gaze, the red wax dripping fast into the plate it stood on.

The minute she heard the click of her bedroom door opening she turned around, the candles had blown out immediately with the whip of her head. Darkness cloaked the room again leaving Yue and her visitor alone with just the sliver of light from the window to illuminate them.

She identified the other as Seoyeon from the shine of her red hair, “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Smells like pine in here.” The witch simply chuckled, crossing her arms and leaning the door closed with her back. Yue’s grateful it was her, god knows what she would’ve done if any of her group members had come in instead. Seoyeon’s intuition probably caught her practicing through the walls, she’s smart enough to see through them after all, her eye was always working overtime when they were kids.

“You know you could’ve done that in seconds, no need to call me over here in the middle of the night.” Yue rolled her eyes, it was just like Seoyeon to bring that up. It had been a long time since they’d interacted like this and she was still doubtful as ever to her own power.

“You know why I don’t do that anymore.” Yue responded through gritted teeth, “and besides, you did do that in seconds, you’ve grown a lot since I last saw you.”

“Seokyung’s better than me, but you were always the best out of all of us.” Seoyeon walked over to Miran’s bed, sat right at the edge facing Yue. “It’s clear Jiyoon wants the spirit out, Blue too.” She chuckled, “I don’t think the other two really want that though.”

There was a beat of silence following Seoyeon’s words, neither of them really wanting to address the rather big elephant in the room at that very moment.

“You could help them, Yue, you know that.” Seoyeon spoke in Mandarin, her accent still the same as when they were kids, hearing it warmed her heart.

Yue didn’t respond, her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes boring into the witch’s. If she wasn’t going to say anything then Seoyeon was simply going to have to press harder.

“Listen, I know what happened was bad but you can relieve your group mates of the thing that’s stressing them out, not me, not anyone else, you.” The smell of burnt sugar began to fall into the room once again, combating the fresh pine of Yue’s magic. “There’s a full moon in two days, you gotta do what you do best!”

Seoyeon knows she can’t force Yue into doing anything, being her friend for over a decade told her that, but she can at least get her to try. Maybe if she could get Yue to open herself up to her own abilities, they could repair what was left of their fragmented friendship.

Yue’s eyes never left Seoyeon, she wanted to believe her, she really did. However, all she could remember was the flames, the haunting memory of the heat coming into dangerously close contact with her as they spread. The thick, black smoke circling the house, the deafening cries of her friend, the silent tears that fell as she watched it all burn.

“Stop, Seoyeon. I just can’t! Is that not enough for you?” Yue cried out, her voice just a decibel below a scream anyone could’ve heard.

Seoyeon knows she’s struck a chord in Yue, hanging her head low. She remembers the fire too. She remembers her heart dropping to her stomach when she saw Yue standing outside in shock, the sickening feeling of relief when she caught her father dragging her mother and sister out of the pile of ash that she called her home.

They tried to move past it, all those years they’d spent with each other far away from Luoyang. Seoyeon knows she’s moved on but maybe Yue hadn’t, that’s why she refused to even talk about what happened since they had left, why Seoyeon could feel that the other hadn’t practiced in so long.

It made her mad, if she could get over losing her home, her family, over something she didn’t even do then Yue could at least try and fix her own problems without running to her and then throwing it back in her face. She threw a hand to the amethyst on her arm, pressing over the tattoo lightly to calm herself, however, it was no use as the anger seething through her caused her to speak without thinking.

“And you call yourself a witch.” She muttered under her breath.

“I don’t!” The flames lit up again, burning dangerously high above their wicks, “Now shut up or get the fuck out of my house.”

Seoyeon waved off the younger girl’s anger, calming down the candles with the flick of her hand. She walked over to the bedroom door but before she would leave she turned to face Yue again, her bright red hair shining around her like a halo.

“You can’t fool me Yue, I’m a damn psychic.” Was all she said before leaving the room, leaving the door irritatingly ajar.

The dancer heard Seoyeon’s goodbyes to the girls through the door, a guttural sigh leaving her mouth when she heard the front done close. She got up from her seat on her bed, feeling all her bones crack upon the stretch, but as she walked towards the door she caught something upon the handle.

Staring back at her was a burned in sigil carved in the wood, each line a very familiar mark that had been seared into her brain from the moment she could see. It was for protection, something to ensure nothing bad could enter the room, Seoyeon must have etched it there on purpose.

“Typical.” She muttered, eyes trained to the mark on the door. She hadn’t seen or made one of those in years, all in hopes that her supernatural past wouldn’t follow her into her new life. Yue supposed she should thank Seoyeon for thinking about her even when she was yelling at her to leave.

“Hey, are you okay? You seemed off earlier.” Yue’s eyes broke contact with the door upon Miran’s sudden entrance, a small smile painted on the girl’s face.

She cleared her throat, grumbling a bit in an attempt to clear her mind of the negative energy surrounding it. She walks back to her bed and pats at the spot beside her, inviting Miran to join her on the blanket.

“I’m okay, just stressed. Y’know, idol shit.” Her laugh is uneasy but Miran’s presence is hardly threatening to her.

Miran frowned, clearly unhappy with the answer as she shuffled closer to her roommate, head resting on the older girl’s shoulder.

Yue noticed how quick she often was to figure out something’s wrong. Maybe it was because they had become inseparable in the last few months that Miran was always able to sniff out sad feelings, or maybe she was an empath that had snuck her way into her life on purpose. Yue goes back and forth on her theories when it comes to this stuff but there’s one thing she knows for sure and it’s that Miran would always be there.

“Just bad memories resurfacing is all, nothing to worry about.” She threw a smile Miran’s way and rested her head against the pillow, the other girl joining and curling up to her in a tiny ball on the bed.

“You can talk to me you know, I might not be able to solve all of it but I can help you speak through it and that might help.” Miran looked up at Yue, eyes wide and full of sincerity.

She knows Miran only wants what’s best for her, she’d never have offered if she didn’t. Still, there’s a stain on her heart that stops her from being fully honest with her, there were far too many things Yue hadn’t fully accepted for her to even begin to think about telling anybody else about them.

“Is this about Seoyeon and the demon? Is there something I should know? I won’t judge you if there is, it’s just that there’s obviously something happening and you seem to have way more answers then you’re letting on to and I’d hate for this to get between us as a group.”

Miran would not stop talking, her words were barely permeating through Yue’s brain as she gazed off into the distance behind her. She’s sure she’s seeing things when she spots the shadowed form on Seokyung on Miran’s bed, just to be sure she blinked and shook her head but when she opened her eyes again she’s still there, staring back at her.

Yue tried to shake off the visions, pinning it to her sleep deprivation but the sight of her former friend haunts her, leaving a sick taste in her mouth. She tried listening to Miran to distract her but it was no use as the image of Seokyung began to burn, flames lighting up the bedroom, flickering around her skin and burning away her features.

“Just shut up, Miran!” Her eyes widened once she had been brought back to reality, the flames withering away as she realised what she had just said to the younger girl.

Miran stayed silent, swallowing the lump forming in her throat and pushing back the slowly growing feelings of regret. The sight of her looking so hurt made Yue want to crawl into a corner and die, like she’d just wounded a puppy.

“Shit, Miran I’m sorry, I just need a moment alone.” She didn’t want to hurt her best friend anymore but just looking at her made her insides freeze up, “please?”

She didn’t say anything, instead removing her arms from Yue and walking out of the room. Once she heard the door click shut Yue slapped her face into her hands, trying her best to erase every bad memory from the last twenty four hours. Seokyung’s appearance had to be the spirit playing it’s tricks on her, what else could it have been?

Fuck, this demon was going to be way harder to live with then she thought it would be.

#bobakocnet #aeskocnet #jinx :: dev #fake kpop group #fake kpop idol #kpop idol oc #kpop oc

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 3 years

Text

Intoxication (Part 3)

(Hayffie 🔥. Sexual content. NSFW. As I reread Mockingjay, I’ve started again writing fics about what life might be like for them in 13. In this part, Haymitch and Effie set boundaries for sex — after they’ve already had it. I view Hayffie with a strong tendency towards enmeshment. They try to set boundaries in an effort to not get too close, not get hurt, and not hurt each other. When their relationship becomes sexual, I imagine certain boundaries are nearly impossible for them to keep up regardless of their motivations and intentions.)

Her mouth moved softly with his, like a slow dance after the band stops playing. “You’re bleeding...” She kissed him where her tooth had caught his lip.

“I’ll live.” The moment was surreal, like a dream he’d woken up from a hundred times with nothing beside him except empty sheets. Only this time he was awake with Effie.

Her body was warm but shaking. Or maybe the shaking was coming from him. He reached for the blanket at the foot of the bunk and pulled it over them. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked, holding her loosely, uncertain what would come next.

She closed her eyes and focused on the sensations. Her hips ached where he’d gripped them so hard. Tomorrow she’d have bruises there matching his fingerprints; she could tell that much. She was a bit sore inside. She’d seen him naked before — drunk naked, not fully aroused. She hadn’t anticipated him filling her so completely.

“Haymitch... we had sex.” It was all she could think to say. She was feeling some shock about it.

“Yeah. I noticed.” He chuckled. Static electricity on the pillow caught strands of her hair like a magnet. She was more wild than he’d expected. There was much more to her than she showed on the surface. Under the blanket he traced the path of her tattoo with his fingertips, following it by memory from below her breast to her sacrum and back again.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you like this?” she asked openly. The question itself was a confession.

He knew the answer. He’d always known. “Since you held up that paddle at that ridiculous picnic.”

“You spoke about running home, and you looked right at me as you said it. I’ve never forgotten the feeling. I thought I might have a spontaneous orgasm right then.”

“Flickerman would have had something to say about that. He loves an orgasmic audience.”

“My mother would have had something to say about that! Choice words for sure.” Effie laughed. “If she could see us here together, she’d lose her shit!”

Her laughter rang through him like chimes in the wind. His father used to make them out of scraps of metal. Even after he was dead, and time had rusted them all the way through, they always sounded like home.

Haymitch caressed her cheeks in the spots where the laughter crinkled her skin. “Such language coming from the pristine mouth of Euphemia Rosalind?”

“I’m not sure whether Mother would be most appalled right now by the unflattering wardrobe strewn about the floor, my conjugating with rebels, or your semen running down my thigh.”

“Conjugating. Is that what we’re doing?” Haymitch clasped her right hand with his and pulled their arms out from under the blanket. Their purple tattoos matched for ‘22:00–Bathing’. “It looks like Coin has scheduled you and me to shower together,” he teased.

“Sharing a military shower with a guard at the entrance does NOT sound romantic.”

“Are we being romantic now? I thought you just wanted this rough and impersonal.” He said it with their fingers still entwined.

She sighed. “I’m trying to be practical. I’m expecting you to pull away like you always have. Should I expect something different?”

“Hell, I don’t know, Effie. We’ve never done this before.”

He held her hand so tightly that her fingers turned pale. “How long have you been wanting ME like this?” She needed to know.

“Since that same day. ...How many years ago was it?”

“Fifteen.” She knew exactly.

It’s a long time to want somebody.

“If my parents hadn’t kept me from leaving the house that night to meet you, do you think this would have happened way back then?”

“If it did, it wouldn’t have been like this.”

“Define THIS?”

“You want an itemized list?”

“If we’re going to be doing this, I think we need some ground rules.”

“More rules?! Don’t you think Coin’s rule book for society and Plutarch’s play book for a revolution are enough to contend with?”

Effie glanced at the ink imprinted on their arms. He had a valid point, but... “What’s happening in this bed has nothing to do with Coin or Plutarch or society or a revolution. This is between us. We need to know where we stand, so we can draw a line and stay on this side of it.”

“You know, for someone who’s so free when she fucks, you’re goddamn controlling.”

“Haymitch, if we don’t control this, what’s going to happen?”

He thought of fire. The question was sobering. “Okay. Rule 1, I’m not going to fall asleep with you. Ever.”

“Why not?”

“My rule, my business.”

She could live with that. She didn’t like to be seen in the morning before she’d put herself together. “That’s fine.”

She surprised him by agreeing so readily.

“Rule 2,” she said, “When we do this again, you won’t be taking all my clothes off.”

“Why the fuck not!?”

“My rule, my business.”

He’d only just had a taste of nakedness with her. He was feeling it now, the sensuality of her skin against his. He’d been starving for it, and she already wanted to take it away. “Are you saying that to spite me for not wanting to fall asleep with you? Because I have legitimate reasons.”

“So do I. I told you I don’t usually do this naked. Not totally. The truth is I never do. ...except this time.”

He held her tighter, feeling the whole of her body while he had the chance. He didn’t want this rule, but he acquiesced, hoping he could change her mind. “Fine. Rule 3, no kissing during sex.”

“No kissing??”

“I’ve got no problem with before and after, but no kissing on the mouth when my dick is inside you. Kissing then, it’s just... it’s too personal.”

She heard a quiver in his voice. He was afraid of getting attached to her. He’d always been afraid of that. Over the years he’d conveyed his reasons, which were mostly logical. Despite them having sex, or maybe because of it, his fear was very present.

“I can work with that. Rule 4, this relationship can’t be exclusive.”

Every muscle in Haymitch’s body tensed. “Are you fucking somebody else here?”

“No. But as long as you’re reluctant about getting attached, then I can’t get too attached to you either. I’m not willing to find myself suddenly stuck in this alone.”

He didn’t want to think about her being with someone else. He’d never liked thinking about that. Now after being with her like this... No way. “Not here. I want a bottle all the time, Effie. Without liquor, how am I supposed to handle knowing you’re fucking some other guy? Once we’re out of 13, fine, but for now that’s off the table.”

Effie breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Then you won’t be having sex with anyone else here either?”

“Who else would I have sex with?!”

“I don’t know. ...Coin is pretty. If only she’d do something about that hair!”

“Coin?! Coin gets off on saying no. I’m surprised she doesn’t regulate the number of breaths we each get to take! Why would I want to screw her?”

“I just said she’s pretty. Moving on. Rule 5?”

He thought about how delicious it felt to have her hands in his hair and his forehead against her chest, stroking her, then trying to hold back and make it last. It was all so good. Too good. If they we’re going to be doing this again...

“Slow is dangerous. Rule 5, sex has to be quick.”

“Sex has to be slow enough to make me come, and I’ll agree.”

He moved his thumb back and forth across one of her nipples, feeling her respond to his caress. “I’ll make you come every time.”

“Is that Rule 6?”

“We don’t need a rule for that one. It’s just gonna happen.”

“We’ll see.” She rolled on top of him and gently bit the skin along the side of his neck. She was careful, tender, making up for cutting the hell out of his lip.

He wrapped her in his arms. The weight of her felt better than any blanket ever could. His eyelids were heavy, but the swelling of his dick was a more pressing need than sleep.

“What about birth control?” he asked, while he was still thinking clearly.

“Aren’t you asking that a little late?”

“Effie...”

“Relax. I had a shot in June. Sometimes those can last six months.”

“Sometimes? This world’s a shithole for a kid. Rule 6 has got to be not having any.”

“We’re covered for now, and we can find out what these cave dwellers do to prevent pregnancy.”

“The docs downstairs said an epidemic left a lot of these people infertile. If they have birth control in 13, then they probably keep it under lock and key.”

“Then we’ll just have to be resourceful! Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it. I don’t want to be pregnant any more than you do.”

Reassured, he moved his hands over her body, committing every texture of her to memory. The curves of her ass filled his palms and the most sensitive parts of her brushed against him without hurry.

“What’s happening now is still our first time, right? So the rules aren’t official yet?”

“Semantics. But you’re still naked, so yeah, sure. What are you thinking?”

“I want us to kiss while you’re inside me. Just once, Haymitch. ...Because I need to know.”

“Need to know what?”

“That intimacy.”

A siren sounded in his chest as she kissed his forehead, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, then the divot above his lip as she nestled against him and enfolded the tip of his dick.

“After all these years,” she whispered, “Don’t you want to know too? Just one kiss, while you’re fucking me...”

Yes. Hell, yes. He thrust inside her, and she claimed his mouth. He threaded his fingers through her hair and held the back of her head when she might have pulled away. ‘Just one kiss’ was going to last as long as he needed to get her out of his system.

This time there was no roughness, no swearing, just fluid motion and murmured consent. He felt her weaving through him like the ribbons inked along her rib cage. Effie was in his system so deep, it occurred to him that he might never get her out. There was no detox for this.

She came twice before he spilled inside her. Their mouths were still dancing slow, long after the band stopped playing.

“Ohh.” Now I know.

“Damn...” I’m so fucked.

#HayffieFics #hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #thg #thg fanfiction #district 13 #intoxication #the hunger games #hunger games #effies mother #haymitchs father #alma coin #setting boundaries #enmeshment

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wincore · 5 years

Text

main actor | wong yukhei

pairing: yukhei x reader

words: 3.6k

genre: best friends to lovers!au, college!au, reader and yukhei are pretty much cat and dog, fluff

warnings: yukhei’s wildin, language

a/n: warmup-ish fic? guess i just wanted to see how many cheesy fanfiction tropes i can fit in. vaguely inspired by this

gif credit

There are times when merely existing feels too wearisome, and there are times when you can’t be happier to be alive.

Wong Yukhei makes you feel both of these emotions simultaneously.

If someone were to ask what Yukhei’s really like (and you’ve been asked that a lot by curious crowds who’ve only ever seen him smile from afar and deduced he can’t be that nice) you’d say he’s an idiot. He’s not stupid, but he’s an idiot. Yukhei is a bunch of contradictions, but he’s your best friend and you’ll reluctantly admit, probably the best thing that’s ever happened to you. (Under no circumstances would you be caught dead saying that to him, even though you’re sure he’d just respond with a bone-crushing hug, grinning from ear to ear.) Obviously, you’ve got a lot of mixed emotions involved here.

The first time you met Yukhei, you were four. He had skipped over to you from another corner of the room, with wide eyes and a soft toy puppy in hand.

“You’re pretty. Do you want to go on a date?” he asked with a wide smile.

“No,” you responded, your attention still on your toy train. You glanced at him once and that was it.

“Okay,” he said, still grinning. Rejection wasn’t that big of a deal to four-year-old Yukhei.

Instead of leaving, he sat down beside you and watched you play. Eventually, you started talking to him about your fantasy land of trains and he, about his imaginary life as a firefighter. And after a few days, you and Yukhei were inseparable.

It’s quite the story for him to tell people, even if you never understood why he likes talking about it so much. It wasn’t very dramatic, or memorable like all the first meetings in books. But it’s always been a unique ability of Yukhei’s to make things sound a little more interesting as he animatedly told everyone at school how you were a cold, dark victim trapped in your lonely bubble and how he, your shining hero, warmed you up. You just make a face every time he forcibly brings you into the conversation.

Unlike elementary school Yukhei, middle school Yukhei was a little meaner, rougher at the edges. He never had any harmful intentions (you wondered if he had any intentions at all) but you always seemed to land the shorter end of the stick when it came to his shenanigans. A rapidly growing boy, he had difficulty getting his limbs in order and more often than not, he’d underestimate his own strength. Whether it was shoving you too hard or the one time he accidentally broke your toy train, those years had quite the horrors you’ve faced in life.

You’re lucky to have survived near him during his awkward teenage phase, full of hormones and messy feelings and Axe body spray. Yukhei’s never been good at telling people no and combined with adolescent curiosity, he’s been in quite a few choppy relationships.

But in the end, Yukhei still has the colour of a comic book hero. He’s always been the main actor of every play, whereas you doubt you’d get the role of villager C. Star athlete and the pride of your school, he’s never wasted an opportunity to enjoy the attention. You, on the other hand, prefer a little alone time. You’re different, immensely different, but you admire him for all that he is. He’s strong in a way you can’t quite describe, only appreciate in subtle ways. You’ve seen Yukhei grow from a boy who refused to admit he wasn’t happy, that he’s not always the smiling hero, to a man who learned to respect all emotions. He still hates to cry, sure, but he doesn’t do it in shadows anymore, pretending to be strong.

dumbass, 01:06 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image]

you, 01:07 AM

wtf yukhei

you, 01:07 AM

why are you awake

dumbass, 01:07 AM

i cant stop :(

dumbass, 01:08 AM

i think im addicted

you, 1:08 AM

to puppy pictures??????

you, 1:08 AM

you know what im not even gonna ask

you, 1:08 AM

go the fuck to sleep you big baby

dumbass, 01:10 AM

but look :(

dumbass, 01:10 AM

[Attachment: 26 Images]

you, 01:11 AM

tf im not looking at all of that

dumbass, 01:11 AM

:(((

dumbass, 01:11 AM

:( but :( puppies :(

you, 01:12 AM

good night dork

Yukhei’s a whirlwind of life, bringing energy wherever he goes. That’s the first thing anyone notices about him. The way his face stands out in almost any crowd, and not because he’s built like a giant teddy bear. The way he can find friends in almost anyone, and all he has to do is flash that grin.

Growing up, everyone could tell he’s a little off-beat, but it only made people want to be near him. The more he stood out, the more he fit in. It’s no wonder you see hordes of people around him, smiling back at his own friendly, dorky gestures.

“You get a walk-in closet and I don’t even get a washing machine?!” Yukhei complains, plopping down on your bed.

You’re certainly lucky to get the biggest dorm room, even if the closet occupies half of it. Now, if your roommate wasn’t such a dick, the beginning of your college life would be perfect.

“Wha- how are those two related?” you ask, leaning back on the wall as you sit beside him.

“I have to go all the way downstairs to wash my clothes,” he replies, “Henceforth, I am upset.”

“When did you learn such big words, Yukhei?” you tease.

“I’m not stupid,” he defends, “Surprising, I know. Considering I got my hand stuck in a Pringles can last week. Again.”

You laugh as he shoots you a grin and sits up, tugging up his red jacket on his shoulder.

“At least you like your roommate,” you grumble, before lowering your voice. “I don’t know which supernatural being up there I crossed to get mine.”

Yukhei laughs. “It can’t be that bad!”

You roll your eyes and smack the back of your head against the wall. Of course, he wouldn’t get it. Yukhei gets along with just about anyone.

“So, we’re starting college, huh?” he shifts to sit beside you.

“We really are,” you breathe.

And so when college began, you couldn’t even feel homesick because Yukhei brought home with him.

College somehow manages to amplify Yukhei’s tendencies to fuck shit up. Bad decisions and good intentions—whether it’s getting drunk at parties, or getting a secret tattoo, or going for midnight drives in the brightest part of the city, he certainly is living his life to the fullest. And he gets new friends to do that with—boys with similar interests and trouble in their presence (except Mark, he’s the sweetest and is only dragged to places like you are). Kunhang is a babbling mess when it comes to drinking, Dejun has strange food choices and Jungwoo isn’t as naïve as he looks (but that’s on you, you could never blame Jungwoo for anything). Mark might just be the sanest, and even he has his quirks. You’re glad, though, for Yukhei to have found them and for them to have found Yukhei.

Despite all changes in Yukhei’s expenditure of time, he still finds a way to sneak into your spare moments.

“Tell me that story you were talking about,” he says, falling backwards onto your bed.

“Now?” you ask, still groggy after waking up from your unforeseen nap. Finals are not treating you well.

“Yeah,” he says, “You look like you could do with a break.”

Of course, there are times when you hate Yukhei. Times when he’s reckless, pulls you into messes you know you can’t sort, times when you just feel so fucking annoyed by your best friend.

“You did what?!” you yell.

“It’s not that bad!” Yukhei explains, waving his arms around wildly.

“I am not going on a date with a stranger!” you yell, your voice coarser than usual as you search for something to fling at him.

“It could be fun!” he replies, ducking to avoid the slipper you threw at him. “You could be meeting the love of your life—all thanks to me!”

You throw the other slipper at him, and he narrowly dodges it. “No way is that happening.”

It’s not like it took you that long to realize your feelings, after the beginning of college. It happened slowly at first, barely a meandering stream of water, till the waves suddenly came crashing and you were drowning in your epiphany. Suddenly, you can’t not think of Yukhei’s large hand over yours or his bashful smile directed at you or even the way his lips look plump and kissable in the morning, despite the rest of his face all puffed up. There’s often stardust on his cheeks, you notice.

Suddenly, you know why Yukhei has always been the main actor in your life.

But you can’t be as open about it. If it’s not the idea of your longest and closest friendship falling apart that blows up your fears, it’s the image of Yukhei’s smile falling as he tries to tell his best friend no, and having to pretend everything’s okay. If the void in your stomach is good for anything, it knows when to tell you the jump is too difficult to take.

If anything, you don’t even know what you mean to Yukhei, but that’s coming from the negativity you hoarded. You have your fears and your questions. If you cross his mind as often as he crosses yours. If you take even a square inch of his heart, if he’ll ever see you that way. You’re not sure what it’d feel like to be the most important person to someone. If you go as far as to call this love, why are you so reluctant?

“And?” you egg him on, crossing your arms.

Yukhei going to frat parties was a horrible decision, really.

“I got drunk and started doing body rolls in front of everyone?” Yukhei shifts uncomfortably on your bed. He’s probably spent at least half of his days here in your dorm room, only leaving when your roommate started complaining about how loud he is. To be fair, he does sound like baby Godzilla at times, worse when more of your friends are over.

“Yukhei, you’d do that sober,” you grimace.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he says, pretending to think.

“Are you going to tell me what got you so uncomfortable?” you ask.

“I mean…it’s not that bad,” he begins, eyes glued to a corner of the floor to avoid your gaze.

“You made out with someone, didn’t you?” you sigh. It hurts a little.

Yukhei scratches the back of his head as he breaks into nervous laughter. “Yeah, and now she kinda thinks we’re a thing, and I don’t know what to tell her.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You wish you could yell at him, let him know in any way how awful you feel.

“Yukhei, you have to stop leading them on! Every party you kiss someone new. Any more, and you’ll get a bad reputation!”

“I know!” he responds quickly. “But I was so drunk last night I couldn’t remember my name.”

“But you remembered to dial my number?”

“Well…yeah.”

Yukhei fidgets with the hem of his sweatshirt. “I’d call Mark, but he was at his part-time.”

You groan, sinking onto the floor. “I feel like a parent with a stupid son.”

“Hey! Now that’s exactly what my mom would say,” he chuckles, scooting to sit beside you.

There’s a heavy silence between the two of you for a few moments. You gulp down any reproachful words you might have left and stare at your fingers instead. You can’t tell him how upset you really are, can you? You’d have to explain the why then.

“Are you…are you just scared my reputation will be ruined?”

You turn to look at him, but he’s staring straight ahead. “Huh?”

“I mean, is that…what’s making you upset? Just that?”

“Yeah,” you answer, and mentally curse your voice for cracking like that. “I don’t want people thinking you’re some sort of an asshole.”

“Me neither,” he says, looking back at you with wider eyes than usual. “I mean- yeah, that’s- obviously.”

You shake your head at him, but you wonder how long it’ll be till you break. You’ve never kept something so serious from him before. It’s human nature to want more than you already have; Yukhei loves chasing after things he can’t have, but you’re not him. You’ve never been him.

Only a few days later, you see your roommate fuming as she leads a rather flushed Yukhei into your room.

“Next time he comes here, I’m calling the RA,” she threatens with a glare before walking away.

You roll your eyes at her back before grabbing Yukhei by the waist lest he falls and smacks his head against your furniture. Your action, however, proves to be miscalculated (you always forget how heavy he is) as the two of you stumble to the floor, barely avoiding the edge of the bed. You stand up again; Yukhei seems to be half asleep with the way he’s struggling to move around.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t drink,” you grumble.

“I said I wouldn’t go to parties,” he struggles to form the syllables. “I went to a really cool bar…it had funky lights and stuff. And I was dancing…and it was so much fun! Except I underestimated how strong that drink was.”

You sigh heavily. “That’s all you talk about. Fun, fun, fun!”

Yukhei grins as he rises to his full height and wraps his arms around your waist. You’d chide him for the reek of alcohol from him if he didn’t look so vulnerable, dormant like this. His eyes are half-lidded with sleep and when he rests his forehead against yours, you swear your heart has skipped several beats in a row. It’s not fair how peaceful he looks with his eyes closed when he’s sent you into internal turmoil. The warmth of his body seeps through the thick hoodie, and you almost find yourself unable to move.

You swallow the feeling rising in your throat and pull apart.

“Come on, Yukhei,” you tug at his hands to remove them from your waist. “Let’s get to bed.”

“We’re going to bed!” he rejoices gleefully. You’re glad he’s complying at least.

Now if he would just let go, you could prepare a blanket to sleep on the floor.

Yukhei doesn’t remove his arms from around your waist, though. Instead, he pulls you into bed with him, and under the covers. This is nice, the stupid voice in your head pipes up again.

“We’re friends,” he mumbles, “friends do this all the time.”

Not when one of them has more than friendly feelings, you think bitterly. Struggling is futile against Yukhei’s iron grip, and you let yourself feel what you were trying so hard not to. When you look at him under the dim lights coming from your window, he’s already out for the count. You brush the hair away from his face and slowly drift off. It feels safe like this.

Of course, you pretend your heart didn’t jump at the sight of his face too close to yours. You’ve shared a bed when you were kids before Yukhei grew too large to fit the two of you and developed a tendency to drool. He has broader shoulders now, longer legs and he engulfs you when he wraps himself around you. In the morning, your body aches after being wound up so tightly on a small bed but you ignore it best as you can. You ignore the rising warmth in your face too when Yukhei departs with a secure hug and his wide grin.

You wonder what it’d be like to be Yukhei—ruin it all and hope it works out. You wonder what it’d be like to see his idiot grin every night, after a kiss against your lips. You scoff at yourself, face a brilliant red, whenever these thoughts walk in unannounced. It’s getting harder to pretend you don’t stop breathing every time he wraps an arm around you or lays his head on your stomach.

“So let me get this straight,” you say, “you can’t get a job at the diner because you’re too tall to fit into the mascot uniform?”

“Yeah,” Yukhei replies, clearly despondent. Usually, he’d be beaming about his height. You can’t figure out why the job means so much to him, but you get your answer soon enough just to greet it with a click of your tongue.

“The free pancakes,” he wails, “They give free pancakes and fries to their workers. I can’t believe I’m missing out on that.”

Yukhei suddenly sits up straight with wide eyes. “You can fit into the suit though!”

You smack your palm against your forehead while he laughs at his genius.

“You practically live in the gym and talk my ear off about being healthy,” you huff, “And now you just want to hog junk food?”

“I’m just good at being healthy,” he grins. “So I can eat unhealthily. You could do with some work, though.”

You raise your leg to kick him in the side but he catches your foot, laughing loudly at your resentful expression.

You’re about to throw the pillow at him when a click comes from the main door unlocking. The two of you freeze and look at each other. You know for sure this will be the last straw if your roommate finds Yukhei again, and you’ll be reported for good. Yukhei and you jump up in a panic and look around for any way to evade impending doom. The few seconds have you frantically searching for an explanation in case she does find him, and you swear at yourself for forgetting about her warnings. (In your defence, most of the things she says are meaningless and you have no reason to remember them.)

Yukhei points to the giant walk-in closet and sneaks towards it, careful not to make a noise. You tiptoe in before your roommate can enter the shared room, and hide behind a rack just in case she decides to come in. Yukhei isn’t small enough to be entirely covered, so you just pray your roommate has no intention of fetching a pair of shorts.

You hold your breath at the shuffling outside the door and move backwards carefully, only for your back to press against Yukhei’s torso. He stiffens at the touch but continues the needed silence. You end up squeezed in one corner of the closet, little ways from the mirror.

You sigh in relief once you hear the click of the door again. She must’ve come in to get notebooks for her next class, you guess. You turn to Yukhei but your breath hitches when you see him like that in the half-lit closet, his figure leaning towards you. It’s not very comfortable to have your body close against him, half twisted.

Yukhei’s gaze sends your heart into a pitfall. He takes a step towards you just as you take a step back and you end up pressed against the wall with Yukhei’s arms on either side of you.

“You’re still so pretty,” he says, his voice low.

A pause ensues before he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

The touch of his lips against yours has you seeing colours you never knew existed. One of his hands still rests against the wall while the other is placed gently around your waist. You can’t quite remember the details except Yukhei’s lips are as soft as silk and you resent the separation when he pulls apart.

“I’ve wanted to do that,” Yukhei looks down as he speaks, his cheeks tinted a darker shade of pink, “for a really long time.”

“You’re so stupid,” you huff, “Or maybe I’m the one who’s stupid.”

He responds with a wide-eyed smile when you cup his cheeks and pull him in again, your fingers skimming over his lower jaw. This time you feel every touch of the kiss, your fingers tingling and your lips tasting his. The feelings you’ve been struggling to tie up and toss away come pouring out of you as you try to keep them orderly.

It’s different splashes of colour with each kiss and the two of you can’t help the laughter tumbling out of your mouths.

“I love you,” Yukhei murmurs, his mouth against your jaw. “I’ve loved you all my life.”

He places a chaste kiss against your lips before looking at you with an adoring smile. Yukhei’s never been good at using words to express his feelings, but he’s never really had trouble expressing them either.

“I’m sorry I took so long to realize,” you whisper, before pulling him by the neck of his sweatshirt and into another kiss.

“I’m letting you go just this once,” you roommate calls when you step out of your room in the evening. “Congratulations on getting a boyfriend.”

You blush deep red and look anywhere else to avoid her sly grin. So she did figure it out. You owe her one, or more for not telling on you all the times Yukhei and the others have been over. Perhaps you had got off on the wrong foot. You should start listening to Yukhei’s advice on how to make friends. You should start listening to Yukhei for a lot of things.

Maybe Yukhei has always meant to talk about your colours but never found words good enough. Maybe he loves the way you laugh and finds himself doing more and more ridiculous things just for you. Maybe he’s told you that he loves you a lot of times but you weren’t listening. Maybe, just maybe, you too have always been the main actor in Yukhei’s life.

#how cheesy do you want this to be?#me: yes #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #wong yukhei imagines #wayv imagines #nct imagines #yukhei fluff #nct fluff #wayv fluff #lucas scenarios #nct lucas imagines #yukhei x reader #College!AU #best friends to lovers!au #moonwrites #getting stuck in a closet with the love of your life for arbitrary fic reasons >>>>>>

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myulalie · 3 years

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Okay, I'm intrigued by your answer about soulmate AUs 😄 I'm not great at convincing people, but I'd like to know more if you feel like exploring it (absolutely no pressure!). I'm extremely unfamiliar with soulmate AUs myself, but it's an interesting idea 🤔

Haha, I can’t really complain about your curiosity! I’m convinced ;) Thank you for your interest too, I’m flattered!

I’ll start with a quick overview of the soulmate AU, it’s often a “soulmate marks” AU, because the characters involved have identifying marks on their bodies that enable them to recognize their soulmate.

It can be your soulmate’s name or a timer that stops after meeting the soulmate for instance, or matching tattoos, or one of the most common would be the first thing your soulmate tells you… A well known soulmate belief IRL would be the red thread of fate, a Japanese legend!

I really like it because it allows for beautiful imagery and pairs really well with a lot of other tropes, it can be both sad and funny. Here is a a masterlist of all the settings people have come up with over the years, you’ll notice that some ideas are more extravagant than others!

So that’s one thing that can really go wrong for me before even reading the story: I need the setting to make some sense. I am very flexible as long as it makes sense in-universe, but if it feels dodgy from the get-go, I won’t read.

Another issue I have with soulmate AUs is that in many stories, soulmates are said to be “rare” yet the entire cast of the tv show/book/whatever original content you’re working with ends up with their soulmate. Not so rare anymore, huh?

Once this is out of the way, I tend to get really uncomfortable with the co-dependency at play with many AUs. It’s entirely personal of course, but the idea of “my one person” actually freaks me out, I don’t believe in predestination and I find it somewhat sad to believe that there is only one person made for someone else (brownie point for soulmate AUs that work with polyamory by the way!).

I find it extremely simplistic for a character to wait for that single person that gets them you know? What about personal growth and character development? Of course, the soulmate AU doesn’t always negate this possibility, so I’m extremely happy when I find soulmate AUs that actually question the concept. I am satisfied in my skepticism and the story feels more relatable.

I love soulmate AUs where the endgame pairing don’t have soulmarks, or have soulmates they decide not to be with, it’s more to my taste!

Another issue is that the soulmate is always above all else (family for example), I’ve recently read a brainstorming about a character whose first words to their soulmate were “help me hide the bodies” and on one hand I love the idea, it’s very challenging and dark, but on the other end, the automatic assumption was that the soulmates would stick together no matter what had happened to said bodies. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I want to side with my soulmate if they murdered my entire family???

Can we at least retain common sense and critical thinking? It makes for a more interesting story in my opinion.

There is also a trend to have the soulmates ineluctably fall in love whether they want it or not. It ties back to my reluctance with co-dependency and lack of free will, but I found very few fics that write this in a way that I can appreciate? I don’t mind darker stuff, but I need to get something out of the inner struggle. I don’t want to read characters falling in love just because you want them to fall in love, it feels out of character and I don’t find any added value to the relationship.

So yeah, here are my thoughts on the soulmate AU. That’s why I tend to search for fics on my own and don’t advertise it too openly, as I am so picky about them! I hope you’ll have learned something since you’re not familiar with the trope, and I wish you happy readings if you decide to explore it!

#pearling down to business #pearfectly fine to ask #soulmate #fanfiction #on writing

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retvenkos · 3 years

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Hi lovely, congrats on 2.5k you truly deserve it! Could I please get a ship for Narnia, Musketeers and Umbrella Academy? I am bisexual, a Leo, Hufflepuff, INFP and enneagram 4. I really enjoy procrastinating anything and everything, I don’t get a lot of sleep, I love cats, I’m pretty introverted and lack a lot of confidence, I’m also the wine mum stereotype to a T and I love getting tattooed (I have a few). I can't really think of any dislikes tbh, I honestly have no clue! Hope this is enough!

Narnia:

I ship you with Lucy Pevensie!

stick with me for a minute, because i have some thoughts

when you first met lucy, you didn’t think the two of you were going to be a good match - she had all the confidence in the world and seemed to thrive off of others. there wasn’t anyone who was more extroverted or assertive.

but here’s the thing - lucy actually doesn’t have a lot of confidence, she’s just really good at hiding it. so i think the two of you get along really well because while lucy might be boisterous, she is also self-conscious and like recognizes like. and together, the two of you work through your confidence issues and are stronger for it.

furthermore, both of you are sunny people! you would get along great because you’re both looking for the good in the world, and you will both fiercely fight for it.

and even though you tend to hold you heart close to your chest, lucy is so gentle with you and takes her time in getting you to open up - she just wants both of you to be happy and i feel that on a deep level.

oh, and lucy??? 10/10 a cat mom - she loves animals of all kinds and they all seem to really love her, too? even the most standoffish cats come up to her and let her pet them.

and sometimes you swear that lucy has full on conversations with the cats - they seem to respond to her and everything? you asked edmund about it, once, and he just said “yeah” and shrugged it off. is lucy secretly a witch or something??

also,,, all i can say is that lucy’s mom friend energy and your wine aunt energy together? it’s chaotic, tbh, but it somehow works really well, too. like, your brevity mixed with lucy’s rambling somehow even each other out and create a sense of organized chaos that i think perfectly defines your relationship.

and don’t worry about never getting any sleep - lucy doesn’t seem to need sleep, so she will stay up with you late into the night, and when one of you mentions that you should probably be getting some sleep, lucy will either force you to sleep or she will be calling pizza hut so you can make it a proper sleepless night.

also, lucy makes a good cup of coffee - she always made coffee for her dad, peter, and edmund (and probably susan and her mom, too, let's be real), so she has the most practice and gets it just right.

Musketeers:

I ship you with Athos!

okay, a complete 180 from the above ship, but i get the vibes

first of all, athos deserves a soft place to land, and a (1) thoughtful, (2) passionate, (3) generous infp is perfect, imo.

but uhhh,,,,,, this is the slow burn to rival all slow burns

you’re reluctant to open up... he wouldn’t talk about his past if he was at gunpoint... you’re self critical.... he literally thinks he deserves to die 90% of the time... you probably don’t think he’d ever so much as look your way... athos is just generally slow to act...

i’m going to speed up the pining by putting you in a life threatening situation, in which athos nearly dies trying to save you. ofc, you have a talk afterward, when he’s recovering, and here’s where things get tricky.

both of you are extremely loyal people - willing to do anything for the people you are about - and so while you don’t think his actions are unjustified, you are simply stunned by the idea that you matter that much to him? like, are you worth it?

yes, you are definitely worth it.

i’m going to say his wounds are mega bad™ so he’s bedridden for a hot minute. you definitely come and chat with him the whole time he’s sick, and you two get to have those d e e p conversations that the two of you religiously avoid

and it’s nice, opening up to him and listening to who he once was. it sheds some much needed light on how you became the people you are, and it strengthens your bond immensely.

also, the rest of the musketeers are so glad the two of you are finally talking about your feelings. aramis had been teasing the two of you for years now and porthos was about ready to knock sense into athos - literally. d’artagnan probably wasn’t that invested in it, but he’s glad athos isn’t so emo anymore. his brooding is hell for everyone.

oh! and i’m a sucker for the brooding one is soft for the sunny one, and that is the epitome of your relationship. your sunny side is athos’ salvation, and he would risk everything to keep you.

oh, and i 100% believe that athos has tattoos and in a modern au, he would have so much ink. he would love your tattoos and lol he’d probably get one for you. he swears he’s not sentimental, but uhh.... he is.

athos doesn’t get any sleep either, but he would insist that you get some. he’d watch over you while you sleep and you would have to force him to go to sleep with you. and even if you aren’t that convincing, he would do anything for you and you manage to succeed a good portion of the time.

also, you can be introverted together! you both have a lot of solitary hobbies, so you end up doing them in the same space, catching the other staring while you’re trying to focus on your work. it’s vvv sweet.

TUA:

I ship you with Alison Hargreeves!

we’re manifesting a loving relationship for both of you, today

i 100% believe that the two of you were good friends before you started dating - maybe you were one of her first friends after she left the academy and one of the few truly generous people she’s ever met in her life

i think what alison finds so poignant about you is that she never had to coax generosity out of you - you are extremely thoughtful and generous all on your own. and if you’re a little emotionally unavailable when you first meet, alison understands that because she is, too, just a little better at hiding it.

also, i think your idealism would be a great counter to alison’s slightly jaded worldview - you would remind her of all of the beauty in the world, the good that hasn’t been corrupted, yet, and she appreciates that.

also! i think you get alison into painting. i have this headcanon that alison gets into painting/drawing, and since you are creative and sensitive, i just got painter vibes from you. AT THE VERY LEAST you appreciate the art and love watching bob ross while alison is the one to actually attempt the painting.

oh! i also imagine that alison notices your tattoos and asks you if you want to get one with her - she only has the one, and it’s not a good memory. she’d much rather get a new tattoo with you.

you guys do it and she puts it right next to her umbrella academy tattoo, so whenever she notices her old tattoo, she can remember the new memory she created with you

also, you get milkshakes after you get the tattoo and probably stay up late watching tv or something.

i also think that alison never hid her power from you - you probably met her when she was rumoring someone into giving her an apartment, and you offered yours instead. and since you always knew about it, you never worried if she had used it on you, once, without your knowledge. the most you can worry about is if she’ll use it in the future, but allison has repeatedly told you she would never, after everything that’s happened.

and if you’re emotions are ever turbulent, alison is really good at making you feel like everything is okay. she’s actually pretty in tune with people, and she’s had a lot of experience with calming down people in the past (probably with diego and ben, maybe even vanya).

#2.5k celebration!#celebration #lxncelotships

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bonesandpoemsandflowers · 4 years

Text

So here’s a thing that happened, tumblr.

Many moons ago, I was in the Neuro ICU for a while. I was actually in there twice--for a week at first, then out, then in again for about two weeks. In between: “Nothing’s wrong! It’s resolved!” As you might imagine, given the spoiler there about how I went to the Neuro ICU twice: in fact, Something was wrong, and it was not resolved (then).

(it is resolved now, thank you)

This post is not actually ABOUT that, but we must start there, out of order.

This is a post about art and rivers and boys in cars. But we start in the Neuro ICU.

I don’t like talking about this time in my life. I would have been skittish and mysterious ANYWAY--I was raised like that--but I’m extra skittish and vague about my timeline because I don’t want to talk about it, you know? I survived something I had no business surviving. I had to relearn how to walk. That took months and that was the easy part. Because I am a big tiddy goth girl, and because I was very young then, people love to assume that the problem was drugs, and I did it to myself, as if that somehow makes anything less tragic.

I was 23 years old with a brain bleed due to a congenital defect, and even at the time, I had to defend myself: no, I’m not on drugs, I don’t do drugs, I didn’t do coke, I’ve never done coke.

I am also Colombian, which, I suppose, might play into their calculus about the coke, but WHO KNOWS. I was busy gibbering and almost dying at the time, which left little energy for noticing potential microaggressions.

Is it a microaggression, I guess, when you’re dying? Who knows.

I have never even been drunk, tumblr. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t snort. I never have. This is mostly because I’m a paranoid loon with an off again, on again anorexia, ya know, thing, so occasionally I get really hung up on irrational concepts of bodily purity. People think it’s a flex when I try to explain this, that I’m relishing in some kind of moral superiority. I’m not. I admitting to SEVERAL defects (“quirks”) of personality there. The eating disorder. The deep distrust: I will not be vulnerable in the presence of others, I will not dull my senses, I will not allow myself to be weak. A certain perfectionism. A certain tendency towards slow burn self harm. Grand ideas made of nothing that sometimes take hold.

My point is that this big disruptive thing happened.

I survived, which is AWESOME. And yeah, I had to relearn how to walk, and some other things, but you guys know that I do yoga and aerial silks and lyra and ran off to Thailand to train kickboxing for a summer on fighter street and I STILL do not shut the fuck up about it.

So, cool, cool cool cool cool.

And I don’t even want to talk about that part, the medical drama, the body horror, the institutional whatever. My neurosurgeon was fantastic and like a week after my discharge I was high as SHIT on prescribed painkillers my caregivers insisted I take and wrote him a gushing effusive letter about how he was MY HERO because I was ALIVE and anyway that basically makes you BATMAN, DOCTOR LEWIS, I FUCKING LOVE BATMAN.

Again: high as fuck, ok.

My point is: I hate talking about this.

Because once you’re a survivor in people’s minds, that’s all you are. You are reduced to this one event that had very little to do with you. You are defined by this thing that happened to you.

And this isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened TO me! But still. Happened TO me. Not something I did. Not my action. Barely even my reaction.

But again, personality flaws. What does it say about me that I look at social norms about comfort and inwardly I snarl that I want no one’s pity?

Except I’m not actually that mean. I don’t snarl.

I just withdraw.

This is a tactic that has served me well in life a BUNCH of times. Is it always the answer? No. Is it often worth a shot? Listen. Yeah. Yeah, it is. Sometimes you flee an abusive home life because that’s the only option, and you don’t want to die. Hypothetically speaking: sometimes all you can do is run.

But sometimes you flee people with mostly good intentions, maybe.

This is all very high minded but what’s prompting me to write this isn’t exactly the upcoming (many year) anniversary of the event. It’s something way more mundane and dumb.

I have not logged into my facebook account since this happened. I never bothered deleting the account(s), either. I presume they still exist. I have no idea HOW to log back onto them, and, more importantly, no desire.

“So what?”

So, okay, back when I had my first stint in the Neuro ICU? Like, totally out of nowhere, I just disappeared from people’s feeds. (you all know I do this) Somehow part of the story got out and SOMEHOW, I have no idea how, a small group of my friends managed to independently track down the hospital I was at. And this is on next to no info, across state lines, like--I have no idea how the fuck they did it.

I also don’t fucking know who they were.

I was told, at the time. I have a vague idea of who two out of (I think) four were, or might have been. I was kind of busy at the time, with the dying.

And when I say I don’t like talking about this time: I don’t like even THINKING about it. I avoid it.

Fleeing. See?

So I don’t have a memory of the names. I don’t have memories of the memory.

“So what?”

So, I know from groups other than this one, groups less dedicated than this one, that people actually get REALLY fucking mad at you for not accepting their get better soon wishes. And like, I get it! You were very worried and I did nothing to reassure you.

I WAS BUSY.

I was busy dying. Almost dying. Not dying. I was busy sleeping 20 hrs a day. I was busy being unable to walk. I was busy re-learning to walk. I was busy relearning how to write with pen and paper and for months I COULD NOT DO IT, do you have any idea how that feels to someone who is and has always been and has always wanted to be a writer? Fuck it. Fuck you.

The initial disappearance. I am not to blame.

But then doing nothing to reach out to anybody for YEARS and YEARS--

Okay, maybe a dick move on my part.

“So what?”

So I think one of the people who managed to track me down in the hospital was my best friend from high school, a terribly sweet Brazilian boy who mostly called me not by my name, but simply: The Devil.

I dig it. Always did.

And it’s high school, right. Everybody is thirsty as fuck for their friends, one way or another. We never dated--we were both always dating or pursuing other people--but we had the typical high school bestie unresolved romantic tension deal going on.

This is important so remember it for later: the problem was not attraction. The problem was not one sided unresolved sexual tension. I had a particular thing for how he looked while driving, shades on, one arm slung over the wheel in that terribly and typically male lounging driving pose that’s probably a safety hazard.

We spent a lot of time in his car.

I didn’t drive, at the time, because my mother didn’t allow me to learn, and I got kicked out of my house and disowned when I was 17. This dude spent a LOT of time driving me places. Boys in cars is practically a genre of erotic poetry, thanks to Richard Siken. This is because boys look Cool driving cars, wearing sunglasses, pretending they’re not paying attention to you while you know they are.

So he was fun.

More importantly, I guess, the fact that he picked my ass up at like 6 AM over and over and over again for a big chunk of my senior year is one of the few reasons I managed to graduate despite being technically homeless.

He was not a morning person. I am not a morning person. He did it anyway.

Why didn’t we date, I wondered, years later, for a fraction of a second, and then I forgot about it.

“SO WHAT?!”

So I’m grown up and happy and fulfilled and in a lovely long term relationship (remember! we’re buying a house!), so it’s not about “what if?” It’s that I’m happy and grown up and I write books sometimes.

But there it is.

I write books sometimes.

Artists are constantly stealing ideas from everywhere and this is good. Artists also steal from themselves, grubby little hands on secret parts of our hearts.

So I’m writing this book, right. My Great Work. My Break Out Novel. My SERIOUS FUCKING BUSINESS book. My “this is the thing I’ve worked the hardest on in my whole entire LIFE” book.

And in this book there is a male love interest. He is a political statement. I’m writing him as sexy and heroic as possible. I want this to be the MOST attractive man I’ve ever written.

Latino. Sexy as fuck. Not a criminal. Overly responsible. Action ready, and terribly nurturing.

Hot Single Dad and Reluctant Necromancer is my masterpiece. A passionate statement and stance against the depiction of Latino men in media. A war cry to examine our own subconscious biases. A weapon raised against an unjust system.

I stole parts of him from Frank Castle. I stole parts of him from Geralt. I stole (MANY) parts of him from this one IRL hot dad former Army Ranger guy, Mexican American with a tattoo on his arm of a jack o lantern one of his kids drew. I stole parts of him from this cute Marine in my DMs who gave me story advice about guns and gear. I stole parts of him from indigenous leaders from centuries ago, from the peoples he is descended from. I stole parts of him from every man I’ve met who worked in dog rescue. I stole parts of him from myself, hiding secret parts of my heart in the male character so that no one will know.

Lovely. All good so far.

I got like two whole drafts in before I was thumbing through some printed out pages, idly thinking: how funny that I don’t have any real life, personal to me models for this guy.

All my prior male love interests, you see, are based on someone. In the werewolf trilogy, they’re BOTH based on someone--different someones. The villain, too, is jokingly referred to as the “evil werewolf ex boyfriend” for a reason.

Everybody is someone.

So how funny, I thought, that necromancer hot dad lacks any references from my own--

OH, wait, fuck--

Overly responsible brown dude with sad dog eyes drives the female lead/occult specialist around while good naturedly complaining that she’s weird as shit.

Oh, damn.

And suddenly a bunch of teensy little backstory details made sense.

Cool.

“So what?”

Bonus round of self realization: my own understanding of this time in my life radically shifted, turning, lurching, sickly rotating on a new axis.

Why didn’t we date?

Somewhere between then and now, post ICU but pre novel writing time--

This one time I overheard somebody talking to somebody else and it had nothing to do with me but sight unseen, on the other side of the stacks in a used bookstore, one dude said to another: “you know that if you were lighter, you’d have a chance with her, right?”

How terrible, I thought, and I forgot about it.

Why didn’t we date?

Because my mother told me, when I was very young, that boys from Brazil were all very wild, and I should avoid them. And she told me this so early and so plainly that I never thought to question it. When I was older she took harder stances that I easily ignored because I knew they were wrong--don’t you dare bring a black boy into this house. You’re dating a Jew? I can’t believe you did this to me. What are you going to do next, kiss a girl?

WELL, Ma, as it turns out, I mean, not til college, but yes.

But the smaller, more mild statement was so much more insidious.

I wonder if he knew. I don’t think he did. I wonder if he figured it out later. I have no idea, because we were friends when we were still essentially children, and now we are grown. Not everybody thinks about this kind of thing, and I don’t blame them.

How much damage did I do?

Does it matter?

Does he know?

I know.

I know, now, that my rallying cry against a system’s unfairness is also a cry wrenched wetly from my own subconscious depths. YOUR biases against? Yes. But more accurately: my biases against.

“So what?”

So this kind of epiphany shit leaves you breathless about it and you wanna scream. You wanna SHARE it. You must infect others with this knowledge.

But you can’t out of nowhere foist this apology on someone. That’s selfish. That’s about redeeming yourself in your own eyes AND asking someone else to confront unpleasant emotions on your behalf, even though they’re the wronged party. Selfish. Tell me I’m not a bad person, baby. Tell me I never hurt you, not even a little. Forgive me if I did. Wade through this pile of astral shit for me just to make me feel better. Reassure me. Hurt yourself for me in the here and now.

So I’m not going to do that, obviously.

“So what?”

But there’s that other part of it, right? Not the apology. The surge of emotion. The realization that all those morning drives back then added up to something deep within me, something so foundational to my concept of care and maybe even the start of something like love--the knowledge that this person gently carved some ideals for you, so long ago, so subtly that you never questioned it, never even realized, because it felt so natural, because something about it is so inherently good and right.

Despite everything--despite society, propaganda, colonialism, the prejudice of my upbringing, my own unexamined complicity, ALL of it--

Despite everything, this person taught me something so deeply about love and the shape of it, something so foundational that I built all my art on it and didn’t even see the beams of it until halfway through my most ambitious and soul bearing undertaking.

This is how you care for another, went the lesson, and I wrote pragmatic actions over words romantic male leads all the way down.

This is what love might look like, and in my own life, ever ambitious, I chose a poet talented with words and actions and good fight choreography, because I think that’s sexy and dichotomies are mostly bullshit, or at least things that happen to other people.

But I didn’t learn what love looked like from my childhood home life, obviously. How could I?

Without you, though, without you and your mirror sunglasses at 6 AM and your exasperated teasing, devil, witch, bruja, without any of those, where would I have learned? How long would it take me, to find someone who would teach me a wholesome lesson?

I’m small and cute and predators love a victim with a lack of context. I give myself and my wit some credit, but what’s pattern recognition worth if you never get any good data points?

Deep lessons.

Again: this kind of epiphany makes you wanna scream. Who to infect, with all this new knowledge?

Maybe no one. Probably no one.

But maybe, just a little, you wonder--

How would that conversation even go?

Hey, so I wrote this book--no, it’s my fifth, not my first, but thanks--so I wrote this book, and there’s this character, right, and he’s--well, hahah, I mean, he’s not exactly--I just--funny story, really--no, god, no, you don’t have to read it--it’s just--he’s just--I mean, no, you, you’re just--forget it, actually, just--

Like, what the fuck is there to say?

“I couldn’t have written this without you.”

And

“Did you check on me? When you thought I was dead?”

and

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice, at the time, that I meant anything to you.”

or is it really

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize until now that you meant something to me.”

What to do with all this emotion? Or more accurately--like rivers carve out gorges, here is the shape of something that once was. This shape will always be here. Even without a single drop of water ever again: we see the river.

What to do with the shape of all this emotion?

I consult the great Richard Siken via a feat of bibliomancy. Advise me, O Oracle. The oracle is War of the Foxes (2015), turned over blindly in my hands, opened randomly to The Worm King’s Lullaby, pg 45, verse 1:

The holes in this story are not lamps, they are not wheels. I walked and walked, grew a beard so I could drag it in the dirt, into a forest that wasn’t there. I want to give you more but not everything. You don’t need everything.

This advice is too good. I close the book.

The advice does not tell me what to do, but it’s too good. The verse reaches into my chest and carves out my heart, slices it open. Inside my heart: pomegranate seeds. Tiny jewels, fit for a dragon, snacking on garnets and rubies, and the apple of Eden wasn’t an apple, because it was the desert, wasn’t it? It was a pomegranate. Something with scales, maybe snakes. The serpent, the devil.

What to do with all this love?

I swallow the pomegranate seeds. I buy myself some time. I want to give you more, but not everything. Do you need everything? I don’t know. I don’t have it to give to you, in any case. Does it matter?

Why are you doing this, me?

Because art is messy. Art is cutting yourself open over and over again. You clean up most of the mess, try to bottle the fluids and label them nicely or deliberately misleadingly, fit for someone else’s consumption, but either way, you’re bleeding.

Maybe this urge is bleed with me or maybe it is oh, you already did.

I swallow the seeds. I buy some time.

I’m not done yet. I’m not.

Maybe all this adds up to nothing.

Maybe if I do this right, it adds up to a lot.

Maybe if I do this right it will feel real, maybe what I want is to gift the shape of these rivers to somebody else, all emotionally intimately with strangers. This is a shape that love can be. This is a silhouette you may recognize.

Maybe that’s a tribute, or a tributary.

But it’s not about you, not really, so don’t get too big headed about it. This is about Art and something like Justice. Big things. This is a book about big things, about history and dogs, history and gods, crimes and lies, slaughter and slander.

Right, yeah.

An act of faith, an act of will.

I swallow the pomegranate seeds. I buy myself some time.

It’s not harvest season yet. Not yet, not now, not yet.

If not now, then when?

When it’s ready.

There is no ready. Perfection is an illusion.

Yeah, sure, but page count is REAL.

You’re evading. That’s another word for fleeing. Do you know that?

Yes. I do.

How long will you run?

Just a little bit more. Just a little. I promise.

#it was boiling / i run to the sea #'i wrote this book because REPRESENTATION also possibly an unresolved crush from high school i am pure LITERATURE'#i have done everything in my power to find you! except get on LinkedIn

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alexsfictionaddiction · 4 years

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Alex Recommends: May and June Books

I must apologise for the late arrival of this post. It should have been up days ago but I’ve been struggling to read much for the last month or so. My head has been very foggy and dark with all of the confusion, anxiety and hate that has been filling my news feeds and I’ve been filled with a desire to combat it. Before this month, I’d have run in the opposite direction from any kind of confrontation but recent events have given me the kick up the butt to actively do better. I’ve been calling out bigotry when I come across it and I’ve noticed that some people, notably my older relatives, haven’t necessarily reacted favorably to the changed, more outspoken Alex. It has been pretty daunting and I’ve worked myself up into fits of rage and tears several times over the last couple of months.

A lot of things have changed for me since my last Alex Recommends post. I’m currently temporarily living in Staffordshire with my boyfriend because my depression got too bad for me to stay at home for much longer. I missed him unbelievably much and I knew that spending some prolonged time with him would help -and it has. Both him and I have spent 12 weeks religiously following all of the rules, so we’re both extremely low-risk for catching and spreading COVID-19 and being together was something that we simply really needed to do. Please don’t hate me for it! In other news, I have also started writing again, which feels amazing. I’m now a few thousand words into a queer Rapunzel retelling that I have lots of ideas for. Maybe I’ll even post an extract or two, when I feel it’s ready to show you.

In the centre of the renewed energy of Black Lives Matter and the undeniable exposure of the horrors that is police brutality, the book blogging and BookTube worlds vowed to uplift Black voices. I wrote a very long, in-depth blog post full of Black-written books and Black book influencers. Please check it out to diversify your TBR and educate yourself on Black issues, which is what every white person should be doing now and always.

June was Pride Month and I tried my best to compile a series of recommendation posts in honour of it. These included gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, non-binary, ace, pansexual and intersex lists. I’ve had some great feedback on this, so I hope you find some fantastic new reads. It felt especially poignant to put them together the same year that one of my childhood heroes came out as an ignorant trans-exclusive feminist. As a lifelong Harry Potter superfan and someone who has repeatedly publicly supported Rowling in the past, I feel the need to clarify where I now stand. I do not support or agree with a single thing that she has said in recent times with regard to transgender people. I’ve never felt my own status as a cisgender female threatened by trans people wanting more rights or believed that children or women were at risk due to their existence.

I read her words more than once and struggled to find any semblance of the woman who wrote the books that have most defined my life. I’m hesitant to say that we can always successfully separate the art from the artist but I will say that it makes sense to me that the Rowling of 2020 is not the same Rowling that wrote Harry Potter. She was a destitute single mother when Philosopher’s Stone was published in 1997 and of course, she is now a million worlds away from that lifestyle. It breaks my heart but it makes sense to me that she has changed beyond belief because her life has changed beyond belief. I’m not and never would make any excuses for her recent behaviour and I have stopped supporting her personally but I will not be getting rid of my Harry Potter books and I will undoubtedly re-read them several more times. However, I am now hugely reluctant to buy any more merchandise or special editions of the books, which saddens me but at the moment, it feels right. There is no coming back for her from this and I will make a conscious effort to keep Harry Potter and Rowling away from my future content. It can be really tough to admit that the people you once really admired aren’t great humans but it’s something that we all have to acknowledge in this case, in order to move forward with our own quests to become our best selves.

It didn’t feel right to post my May recommendations last month as I didn’t feel comfortable promoting my own content in the midst of boosting Black voices. So today I’m bringing you a bumper edition of Alex Recommends. Here are 10 books that I’ve enjoyed since the start of May that I’d love to share with you. Enjoy! -Love, Alex x

FICTION: Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Set in the affluent neighbourhood of Shaker Heights, Ohio in the 1990s, two families are brought together and pulled apart by the most intense, devastating circumstances. Dealing with issues of race, class, coming-of-age, motherhood and the dangers of perfection, Little Fires Everywhere is highly addictive and effecting. With characters who are so heartbreakingly real and a story that weaves its way to your very core, I couldn’t put it down and I’m still thinking about it over a month after finishing it.

FICTION: Get A Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert

When coding nerd Chloe Brown almost dies, she makes a list of goals and vows to finally Get A Life. So she enlists tattooed redhead handyman and biker Red to teach her how. Cute, funny and ultimately life-affirming, this enemies-to-lovers rom-com was exactly the brand of light relief that I needed this month. The follow-up Take A Hint, Dani Brown focuses on a fake-dating situation with Chloe’s over-achieving academic sister and I can’t wait to get my hands on that.

FICTION: The Rearranged Life of Oona Lockhart by Margarita Montimore

Just before her 19th birthday at midnight on New Year’s Eve 1983, Oona Lockhart finds herself inexplicably in 2015 inside her 51-year-old body. She soon learns that every year on New Year’s Day, she will now find herself inside a random year of her life and she has no control over it. Seeing her through relationships, friendships and extreme wealth, this strange novel has echoes of Back To The Future and 13 Going On 30 with a final revelation that I certainly never saw coming.

NON-FICTION: The Five by Hallie Rubenhold

Atmospheric and engaging, The Five details the previously untold stories of Polly, Annie, Elisabeth, Kate and Mary-Jane -the women who lost their lives at the hands of Jack the Ripper. Full of fascinating research and heartbreaking accounts of what these women’s lives may have been like, Rubenhold paints a dark immersive portrait of Victorian London and gives voice to these tragic silenced lives. Although we can’t know for certain if these accounts are entirely accurate, they feel very plausible and in some ways, The Five exposes how little time has moved on, when it comes to the public portrayal of single, troubled women.

NON-FICTION: Unicorn by Amrou Al-Kadhi

From a childhood crush on Macaulay Culkin to how a teenage obsession with marine biology helped them realise their non-binary identity, Unicorn tells the story of how the obsessive perfectionist son of a strict Muslim Iraqi family became the gorgeous drag queen Glamrou. Packed full of humour, honesty and heart, this book will give you the strength and inspiration to harness what you were born with and be who you were always meant to be.

MIDDLE-GRADE: The Super Miraculous Journey of Freddie Yates by Jenny Pearson

When fact-obsessed Freddie’s grandmother dies, he discovers that the father he has never met may actually be alive and living in Wales. So he has no choice but to grab his best friends Ben and Charlie, leave his home in Andover and go to find his dad! I laughed so many times during this madcap adventure and I know the slapstick crazy humour will hit the middle-grade target audience just right. It’s also a wonderful depiction of small town Britain with a focus on the true meaning of family.

MIDDLE-GRADE: A Kind Of Spark by Elle McNicoll

When Addie learns about her hometown’s history of witch trials, she campaigns tirelessly to get a memorial for the women who lost their lives through it. This wonderfully beautiful novel gives a unique insight into the mind of an 11-year-old autistic girl with a huge heart. Busting myths about neurodiversity while tackling typical pre-teen drama, you’ll laugh, you’ll cry but most of all, you’ll close the book with a huge smile on your face.

HISTORICAL FICTION: Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell

In 16th century Warwickshire, Agnes is a woman with a unique gift whose relationship with a young Latin tutor produces three children and a legacy that lasts for centuries. This enchanting, all-consuming account of the tragic story of Shakespeare’s lost son, the effects that rippled through the family and the play that was born from their pain will send a bullet straight through your heart. Wonderfully researched and beautifully written, Hamnet is worth all of the hype.

HISTORICAL FICTION: The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

When a vicious storm kills most of the men of Vardø, Norway, it’s up to the women to keep things going but a man with a murderous past is about to come down with an iron fist. At the heart of this dark tale of witch trials, grief and feminism, two women find something they’ve each been searching for within each other. Gorgeously written with a fantastically slow-burning queer romance, Kiran Millwood Hargrave’s first adult novel is an addictive, atmospheric read with a poignant, tearjerker of an ending.

SCI-FI: Q by Christina Dalcher

When one of Elena’s daughters manages to drop below the country’s desired Q number, she is sent away to one of the new state schools and Elena is about to find out something she’d really rather not know about the new system. Packed full of real social commentary and critique of life as we know it while painting a picture of how things could be even worse (yes, really!), this pulse-racing, horrifying sci-fi dystopian gripped me from the first page and refused to let me go.

#book recommendations #recommended #recommendations #may #june #books #bookworm

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