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hazelchooseme · 6 months

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How to train your dragon | Hazel Callahan

AU set in the world of How to Train Your Dragon.

English is not my first language.

Song recommendation: 1950 by King Princess.

Enjoy 🐉

"Whether you like it or not, at some point we are going to have to leave." You said looking down at your dragon.

Magna was a beautiful Night Light, she had black fur covered with white spots, a large white spot around her left eye making her green eyes stand out. She grunted while still lying on her back in the grass. You sighed as you sat next to her.

You looked around observing the stone walls that your dragon refused to climb since she was too busy resting. You couldn't complain though, the vines hugging the walls, the small lake in the center sparkling with the sun, the silence, everything was relaxing and perfect.

A monstrous belly sound brought you out of your trance. You and Magna made eye contact.

"That wasn't me, buddy" With what seemed like an embarrassed smile she began to roll on the floor with no intention of standing up. "C'mon" You clapped your hands as you stood up to grab her paw, trying to make her stop but failing. "Magnaaaa, help with something ball of scales!" You rested your entire body on the corner of her right abdomen, now trying to turn her over. It was enough for her to move a little and you would end up eating dirt. And so she did. You raised your head, spitting out the grass that entered your mouth. "Thank you for nothing, mutant fish. I should have adopted a male." Magna's laugh/grunt brought a smile to your face. As you stood up cleaning the dirt from your clothes you heard another laugh, a human one.

Turning around you could see that it was no one else but Hazel. Fantastic. She saw you being humiliated by the animal.

Hazel was on top of some rocks riding her dragon Heimdall, a gorgeous Hobblegrunt, who now looked yellow showing his happiness.

"Need some help?" She asked with a mocking smile as she landed with Heimdall next to you and got off.

"Hi, Hazel!" You responded with a voice that was high-pitched with nerves."No thanks, we're pretty busy here."

She turned to see how Magna was still rolling on the floor. "Are you sure?"

"Yes... Because she is really focused right now, so if you don't mind—" Before you could finish speaking Magna jumped up and ran straight to Heimdall who was drinking water. That was it, you were going to give her up for adoption as soon as you arrived in the village.

"You need something?" You asked before there was an awkward silence.

"Aaah, right. Emmm.... PJ was looking for you"

"Why? Did something happen to her?" PJ was your best friend and although you loved her very much, she used to do pretty stupid things.

"I don't know, no one could find you so I went looking for you."

"Aaah"

Should you thank? Was it a good thing that she had come to look for you? Did they force her? Is she hating you right now for wasting her precious time on a Sunday afternoon? It wasn't your fault, Magna was the one who wanted to go exploring and since she didn't dare go alone you accompanied her. You never thought that the lazy dragon was going to get tired and rest for hours in the pit of the world. Shit, you were so hungry.

"Are you, like, dating?" Hazel asked suddenly.

"What? Who?"

"You and..." She looked anxious as she spoke. "You and PJ"

"What?! Nonono, she's like my twin, like if I had a stupid sister it would definitly be PJ. You know, like, same blood. Her and I dating. Incest." You spat hastily, wanting to make it clear to her.

"Well, that's a relief then."

"What? Wh—"

"What happened to your arm?" Hazel asked, completely changing the topic, worriedly as she approached, taking off her helmet. Her brown waves bounced off her forehead making her eyes look bluer than they were. You noticed that in this light her eyes looked brighter than when the light of a campfire shined on her, you noted that fact mentally.

You were brought out of your thoughts when Hazel grabbed your arm, you jumped away, trying not to make the move too obvious you started looking at your arm that was bleeding at the elbow and mumbling.

"I probably scratched myself on Magna’s mount when I fell,” you laughed a little, another scratch to remember.

"It looks bad, we need to clean it."

"We?"

Taking your good elbow she guided you towards the lake. Once on the shore she made you kneel, taking a piece of cloth out of one of her pockets and sinking it in the water. Sitting there together you were able to observe her better, her somewhat messy hair that moved slowly with the wind, her frowning brow, her lips pressed together in concentration, on her leather pants you could see some yellow scales that Heimdall must have dropped on the trip, she had grass stuck in the seams of her leather jacket. You honestly wondered if it would be too rude to clean it up for her. The sound of a splash made you turn to look at the lake where both dragons were playing.

"This is not the most hygienic but it will do" Hazel said looking at you with a smile, then with a nod of her head she silently asked you for your elbow. She began to clean carefully, her fingers moved gently over your skin, every few seconds she looked up to give you a tiny smile. Was it your idea or were his hands shaking a little? Or was it you? When your eyes met again, neither of you looked away.

"Hazel?"

"Yes?"

When she made the move to get a little closer she accidentally pressed the cloth on your wound making you hiss in pain. In less than a second your dragon was between you and Hazel. Magna began to growl threateningly at the blue-eyed, causing Heimdall to also become overprotective of his owner. In the blink of an eye both dragons were in attack position.

"Hey, hey! Magna is okay, I'm fine" Standing in front of her you grabbed her by the snout so she could look at you. "She's my friend, I like her, okay? Nothing bad happened, calm down" You began to caress between her eyes, knowing that it would calm her down . You could hear Hazel doing the same thing. After a few minutes both dragons calmed down noticeably. Looking over your shoulder you turned to see Hazel, watching as she rested her forehead on Heimdall's head. When she noticed your gaze she smiled at you.

"We better go"

Nodding your head you climbed onto Magna. Following Heimdall and Hazel you began to fly.

Up here in the clouds with Magna you felt like you could do anything, you could travel every corner of the planet and more. The blow of the wind, the cold, the altitude, everything felt right. Looking to your right you saw Hazel beautiful blue eyes, she was the most beautiful while she was flying, or when she was walking, or when she smiled at you that way. Her hair moving in the wind made you notice that she didn't have her helmet, your stomach twisted, maybe this was your chance.

"How about a race?" Before you could answer, Heimdall began to fly faster, losing him in the clouds. Magna moved excitedly, waiting for you to give her the order.

"Come on, show them what you're made of."

Without thinking for a second, Magna launched herself after the Hobblegrunt.

When you reached them, Magna began to fly in circles around them, then dive to the ground and almost instantly propel herself upwards, surpassing them. She was showing off just like you taught her.

"That's my girl!" You shouted in celebration.

"Nice" Hazel was flying upside down. Among the clouds her blue eyes took on a more grayish tone, you also noted that mentally. She was so close that because of the speed her hair hit your face, if you leaned down you could kiss her forehead. "But not so fast" Saying that she disappeared again.

You sighed. "I'm screwed"

After what seemed like hours of flying and chasing each other you decided to return to the village.

"I'm fucking hungry" You complained as soon as you landed. You turned to check on Hazel but you couldn't help but laugh at her messy hair.

"What?" She asked as if she didn't know what was happening.

"Nothing" You managed to articulate between laughs.

"What? My hair is funny?" She questioned you as she got dangerously close. "It's very messy, does that make you laugh? Let me fix yours." Without anticipation she launched herself at you, her hands ruffling your mop of hair while you laughed and tried to get rid of her. "C'mon baby, let's match"

"Get off of me" You said laughing.

Slowly sliding her hands through your hair she took a step back and walked away.

"Today was fun" She said with a smile "Thank you"

"Thank you for looking for me" You could see in her eyes the internal debate of whether to stay or go so you decided this was the time. "I have something to give you"

You walked towards your house laughing with both dragons following you.

Once you were at home, you went to your room to look for the gift while Hazel waited in the living room. With the box in your hand and trembling with nerves, you cheered yourself up.

"Come on, you just flew through the clouds, this is nothing" But it was all. Hazel was everything. You were pretty sure you loved her, a long time ago. And today she tried to kiss you, you weren't crazy, it had to mean something.

"Here" You handed her the brown box which she immediately began to unpack. "It's...Ummm Consider it a belated birthday present... 3 months late" You were already regretting it.

"Oh my god" Hazel took a helmet out of the box, you had decorated it with metal-tipped studs, which you knew she liked so much. Although the top was black both sides had Heimdall drawing and hand painting by you, the glasses were automatically retroactive if she pressed a button on the back.

When you noticed that she didn't react or say anything, you started to ramble. "I drew Heimdall yellow because I know he's happy to have you. Emmm... Maybe it doesn't combine with he's mount, but I can make you a new one... You know, this is what I do" You laughed uncomfortably. But you still didn't get a response. "Hazel?"

She slowly began to move the helmet between her hands. "It's... It's beautiful, I... I have no idea what to do or say"

"Nothing! You don't have to do or say anything, it's just a gift"

"It's not just a gift" She looked up at you, you had never seen her so serious. "This is the most precious thing for me from now on"

You swallowed hard, unable to break eye contact.

"I'm glad you liked it" You blurted out stupidly.

"I better go" She said as she walked towards the door, before opening it she turned again. "Thank you so much"

When the door closed you were able to breathe normally again but your heart did not stop beating strongly.

"That was—" But before you could finish the door opened again with a loud bang.

Hazel came back in, this time she walked straight towards you. When she arrived in front of you she began to open and close her mouth, searching for the right words. . "I'm not good with words but... I know you feel the same way I do, tell me I haven't misinterpreted everything, please" Nothing else was necessary, you knew perfectly well what she was referring to.

"Yes, I do, I-I feel the same"

Without saying anything else she grabbed you by the waist and brought you closer. Her hand rested on your cheek, she didn't have to ask, you just nodded in response. The first touch of lips was calm, just enjoying the moment, you could notice her soft lips, almost as if they were made of silk. You don't remember if it was you or her but someone started kissing harder. You remembered the moment at the lake, the way she touched you so delicately, here it was the complete opposite. She slid her hand behind your neck in a way that made your entire body tingle with excitement, desire. Her other hand was still resting on your waist, grabbing the fabric of your shirt as if she wanted to tear it off. Your hands were tangled in her hair, pulling from time to time causing a sound in her that you never wanted to forget. While her lips continued exploring yours, her tongue ran over your lower lip, you opened your lips slowly allowing her to lick the corner of your lips. The electricity that felt all over your body reminded you of the feeling of flying over the clouds, exciting and at the same time reassuring, as if you belonged there, on each other's lips. Your hands stopped on her chest, feeling how hard her heart was beating. Sucking the tip of her tongue you slid your hand inside her shirt, her moan sent shivers down your spine. The kiss began to calm down, ending with Hazel placing small kisses on your lips and then on your nose and then all over your face. She kissed your neck and then leaned on you.

"I was dying to do that." She laughed.

Still with your hands shaking you explored her back feeling her chills. "We have a lot to talk" Just at that moment, both Magna and Heimdall ran into the place, throwing you on the floor and licking you as if they knew what had just happened.

As you tried to get Magna off you, you were grateful to have such a lazy dragon.

#hazel callahan #ruby cruz #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel x reader #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #bottoms movie

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justanothersquidblog · 4 months

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Hello! I was looking through your Toxic-Tunes posts and you mentioned Afina had a brother! Who is he?

Hi! I talked very briefly about him before in this post but I'll share more about him!

Forgive me for the old art, but here's Alexandre (working name but it's grown on me)

He and Afina are twins! Afina on the left and him on the right. They used to be very close when they were younger, but as they got a little older they started to drift pretty rapidly.

I must mention again that Afina comes from an UBER CRIME FAMILY called the Bluering mafia, and her parents are the heads of it.

Alex here is very proud of this business and both the power/wealth it has given him- and has always been eager to keep working with the family business. He's not greedy per say, but he's never been in a hurry to do anything else in his life thanks to what this life has given him.

Afina meanwhile wanted to leave the business since violence never was her thing and it just disturbed her too much. Alex was absolutely befuddled by this, completely opposed by how soft his sister was and urged her to toughen up. However, this only fed into her desire and eventual conviction in running away.

The Bluering mafia always knew where Afina went though, but didn't make any big moves on dragging her home, as her parents saw that the passion she lacked for crime sparked up with her current profession, and who were they to take that from her.

In fact, they were inspired, and decide that ALEX needs to take after his sister and go FIND HIMSELF IN THE REAL OUTSIDE WORLD WHERE HE CAN'T FALL BACK ON THE BLUERING'S CRIME FORTUNE

He's pretty annoyed about this btw, and is currently struggling quite a bit. Afina is eager on helping him though, and hopes this whole experience not only actually helps him find what he's really into, but also bring their old bond back.

#splatoon #my art #toxic tunes #splatoon oc

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pekoetiikapu · 2 months

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Random TWST OC lore? Yup.

Lara…she’s one of the OC’s with a darker past in my stories. Please beware! Also, trigger warnings below. Please read them. Rielle and Fran are also in this because they are important to her story.

TRIGGER WARNING

SA(not detailed), people getting eaten alive(not detailed), su1c1d3

———

Full Name: Lara Kai

School: RSA

Favourite Food: Shrimp

Pastime: Roaming the sea for corals, cleaning the sea, protecting Rielle, helping Fran, being mean, attacking(?) people

Family: Mother(deceased), Father(deceased), Laya(sister, deceased), Lana(sister, deceased)

Role: Dormhead protector

Species: Eelion

[Dormhead protector is a made up role!]

———

Facts

Lara specifically avoids people who talk about Eelions. She fears that they are just like the merpeople of the past. Though she hopes not.

Lara cares a lot about Fran, and kind of bullies the twins in a friendly way.

Lara never had to learn how to walk, only how to get rid of/hide her tail and fins.

Lara doesn’t go back anywhere when it’s the holidays and stay with either the tweels, Azul, Rielle, or Fran.

Lara doesn’t have family, she used to. She’s basically almost going to go extinct and is pulling a really risky move (she knows) by choosing to go on land.

Lara has a fear of humans.

Has a lot of gold on her school uniform (not as much as Kamisha)

———

Backstory

Lara lived a pretty peaceful life up until she she realised that her species weren’t exactly friends with merpeople. Since Eelions looked quite similar to humans, just with fins and their bodies tinted to be bluer, they also had eel tails but they had limbs just like humans. They were strange and weird looking to merpeople, so Eelions separated with merpeople.

Lara didn’t have much friends, though she had one. This one friend however was captured by a human while she and Lara were hunting for shrimp and other things to ear, Lara’s mother always warned her when hunting to be weary of her surroundings. To make sure that no boat were around or they weren’t to close to the surface, this incident only made Lara’s fear of the surface grow.

Eventually, however, her life would be completely destroyed. Lara, and her whole kingdom and civilisation, which wasn’t all that big would be captured. And the truth about what happened to captured eelions destroyed Lara’s perspective on humans. Lara, and the rest of her family were captured and taken to the surface.

Lara found the truth disgusting, eelions were rare but instead of being experimented on or researched about, humans found them “tasty”. So, Lara watched one by one as all of her family were turned into cooked meals. However, Lara learned self-defence and was able to defend herself from these humans, so they sold her off instead.

Lara was sold to someone and SA’d. For years this would go on before a group comes to save Lara from the terrible life she was living, Lara got her revenge and took down the human group for murdering all her fellow eelions. Making her the only survivor.

Lara then read “The Little Mermaid”. The tale about Ariel, which shouldn’t be someone new to you guys. Lara found Ariel a very kind and loving person, and although she supported Ariel’s dreams in becoming a human, she felt a weird destain for the prince she was married to. Lara learned not all humans are bad, and that she just ran into cruel people. However, her fear of humans were not eased. Not until she chose to go to RSA.

People told her she’d “fit better in NRC” but Lara still chose to join RSA. That’s when she met Rielle, and Fran. She became close friends with the two and understood Rielle’s sadness. Lara became a real friend to Rielle and protected him from fake ones. She would call them out if she saw it necessary, however if it got really bad she would just straight up attack them.

Lara had another friend who was a koikoi (mermaid but koi fish.), she lost her to su1c1d3 which made Lara really depressed for a while.

Lara helped ease Fran’s anxiety and tried her best to help him out. She took on the role of protecting Rielle and when she found out about his admiration for Azul, she decided to take a visit and meet this…so called fish mafia.

———

Relationships

Rielle

Rielle was the first person she met in RSA and was quite fond of him. Even telling him he reminded her of Ariel, and even told him the whole story.

Not once did Lara ever let it slip past her whenever someone was using or abusing Rielle’s kindness and made sure that they knew they were a terrible person.

Lara gives him a lot of gifts to comfort him and joins him in his interests.

Personal therapist for Rielle.

Lara can get annoyed with Rielle sometimes, but never shows it.

He doesn’t know about her past, or her fear of humans until she overblots.

Tweels

Absolutely made fun of them when she first saw them. She couldn’t understand why they were trying so hard to be the fish mafia, they weren’t even that scary.

They have gotten on her nerves a few times which sometimes ended in her beating them up. However it doesn’t affect their health to much.

Forced them to try and talk to Fran, she accidentally started a new friendship and the Tweels absolutely love Fran and protect him.

Personal therapist for the two twins.

Find out about her past when she overblots, got a few hints about her fear of humans before.

Fran

Best friend/he has a crush on her

Helped ease his social anxiety.

Gifts him sweets all the time and sometimes over gives him.

Fran thanked her a lot after he made friends with the tweels.

Personal therapist

Has no idea about her fear of humans or her past until she OB

Azul

Protects Azul often, and get’s pretty upset whenever someone bullies him. When he told her what happened in the past Lara looked like she was about to explode. She asked them where they were.

She lets him win all the time just so that he doesn’t feel bad about himself.

Is legitimately better at him in everything.

She got mad when Azul treated Rielle pretty badly and kind of embarrassed him by confronting him in front of NRC and RSA. She thought it wouldn’t do much but he apologised to Rielle later on.

Personal therapist.

He always had a feeling she went through stuff, he was horrified when she OB’d because it just showed that it was a lot worse then what he was expecting.

She stills cares about all of them.

———

Rielle and Fran belong to @yaoyaobae ! Ask me to take it down if ur not comfortable.

Lara Kai (ララカイ)

Lara belongs to me, and the rest belong to TWST.

RIP eelions.

#lara kai #floyd leech #jade leech #twisted wonderland #nrc #twst #twstoc_pekoe #rsa #fran #rielle #azul ashengrotto

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liiilyevans · 1 year

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I love your Bluer characterization!

Every post it’s awesome 👏🏻

So for smutty prompt #35 ( Bleur)

send me smutty prompts

Thank you so much! I was kinda worried cause I've never written smut for them before. I'm so glad you enjoyed though, and I hope you enjoy this one just as much! ❝i couldn't wait any longer, baby❞

Fleur had not thought that she would spend her wedding night being questioned by the Ministry. Perhaps it was too optimistic or naïve of her to believe that her wedding day would be untouched by the war, but she had thought, they'll let us have this. Death Eaters have to get married, too. They will surely let us have this. How very wrong she had been.

They were all finally back at the Burrow, her and Bill and his family - her family now. How strange it seemed to long to call these people family for so long only for it now to feel odd to do so. She still felt like a guest her, though she supposed that wasn't entirely her fault. But if they were family now, she would care for them just as she did for her own parents and her sister.

Determination in her step, she lifted the hem of her dress and marched into the kitchen, leaving Bill to talk to his father. When she entered the kitchen, she found the twins talking quietly among themselves and Bill's mother scrubbing a plate with vigor. Molly didn't even notice her enter, but the twins' eyes were glued on her.

Ignoring them, she stepped up next to her new mother-in-law and gently laid a hand on her arm. "What can I do for you?" she asked. "What needs to be done?"

Molly blinked a few times as if just recognizing Fleur.

"Oh, dear," she muttered, her eyes filling with tears. "I am so sorry. Your wedding-"

"Was just as it should have been," Fleur said fiercely. "I would not change a thing."

Molly rung her hands together. "I had only hoped that we'd make it through the night." She gave her a watery smile as she glanced down at Fleur's dress. "You really were the most beautiful bride. And this dress is just . . . so breathtaking."

"You should consider her lucky then," George said.

"Yeah, Bill would have just ripped it off her," Fred added.

Both of them were grinning like fiends.

"I would have ripped what?"

"Nothing!" the twins said in unison.

Bill was scowling at them from the doorway, and normally it would not have been so intimidating, but since he had been mauled by Greyback, Bill's scowls had gotten much more stern.

"Oh, Bill!" Molly said before she burst out in tears and threw herself at her eldest son, mummering apologies about his wedding.

"Good job, Bill," Fred said.

"Yeah, you made her cry," George added.

"Shut up," he hissed before guiding his mother out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Fleur turned her eyes on the twins. "I saw you two with my cousins."

"No idea what you're talking about," Fred said, picking at his nails.

"Not a clue," George said. "We were with Harry all night."

How convenient for them that Harry was now gone.

"Well, you might want to know that both have boyfriends," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. They, in fact, did not have boyfriends, but neither of the twins needed to know that. "Both from Bulgaria. You might have known that if you had spoken with them instead of sneaking into dark corners with them all night."

The twins' eyes had gone comically wide.

"Excuse us," Fred said, standing quickly. "We've business to attend to."

"Have fun having your bodice ripped," George said cheekily as they exited the room.

Fleur rolled her eyes though she couldn't help but find them amusing. They were the first members of Bill's family she had meant after they were dating, and she had a soft spot for them.

Bill returned shortly after they left. Without saying a word, he swept her up into his arms, dropping his forehead against her own.

"I'm so sorry, Fleur," he said. "I wanted this day to be perfect."

"Do not apologize," she said fiercely. "It is not your fault. It is not your family's fault. You did not do this."

"I love you," Bill murmured. "I love you so much. Je t'aime, je t'aime."

He always did that. Whenever he said he loved her in her language, he repeated himself, as if he could never say it enough. Like he loved saying it as much as he loved her. His calloused hands slid up to cup her face, and she turned her head to kiss one then the other.

"Je t'aime aussi," she said.

"Dad's taking care of mum," he said. "Do you want to go home? We can stay here if you want, but-"

"Oui," she said quickly. "I want to go our home."

Bill smiled and slipped his hand into his pocket. His other hand slid down to grasp her waist, pulling her snuggly against him, and then she was being twisted and tugged through a tight tunnel. They landed in the sand - the lawn really - of their new home.

Shell Cottage was where Bill proposed to her, and where he would take her when he wanted a moment away from his family and his mother's hawk-like eyes. Fleur always found it rather comical that they were already fucking in a house that they were supposed to live in when they were married.

"Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?" he asked, a bit of his old self returning with the glimmer in his eye.

Fleur just rolled her eyes and opened the front door herself and marched in. It was not as if she had never been here before. Bill followed her, dunking to get in the doorway. His hair was still tied back, though a few stands had managed to escape his low ponytail. They framed his face beautifully, the bright red of his hair offsetting the scars that ran across his face.

Most people would consider his beauty gone now that he had those scars, but Fleur did not. She thought he was more devastatingly beautiful now than he had been before.

Beautiful when he'd promised to love her in French and in English earlier that day. Beautiful when he'd danced with her and held her like she was the most precious thing to him. Beautiful when he'd raged at Death Eaters parading as Ministry officials for interrupting their wedding. He was beautiful no matter what he did.

"Enlève ton pantalon," she said.

"Pardonnez-moi?" he said, a smirk falling over his face as he crossed his arms. Most men would have fumbled for the chance to get to remove their pants for her. Not Bill Weasley. No, he enjoyed making her repeat herself far too much.

"Enlève. Ton. Pantalon," she repeated, pausing after each word.

Bill laughed then. "Je t'aime, je t'aime," he said amusement lacing his voice as he slid out of his coat. Fleur would tell anyone who would listen that Bill's voice was made for the French language. Sadly, few people wanted to hear her talk about that.

When his hands fell to his pants, he raised his eyes and watched her with a smirk. Fleur only rolled her eyes in response. Then he was ever so slowly undoing his buttons and his zipper. He was being purposely slow, Fleur knew, and she tapped her foot. When he finally, finally, managed to remove his pants, Fleur shoved him roughly by the shoulders. Normally, she would not have been able to move him, but she'd clearly taken him by surprise if his startled face was anything to go by. He landed on the couch.

"Fleur," he said exasperated.

Fleur did not respond to him. Instead she grabbed the hem of her dress and yanked it upwards, thanking Merlin she had decided against a ball gown and gone with a fitted gown instead. It was much easier to slide her underwear off without as much fabric to shift through.

"Fleur, what are you doing?" Bill asked as he leaned forward. His hand slid along her bare thigh to steady her, but Fleur didn't need it. She managed to kick the underwear away before she gathered up her dress and sat herself in Bill's lap. His hands immediately found her waist, gripping tightly, and forcing her hips back on his thighs.

Fleur huffed.

"Not like this," Bill muttered. "I wanted this to be . . ." He paused and looked away from her. "I wanted it to be different."

"I cannot wait any longer, mon amour," she whispered resting her forehead against his own. "I need you." And she did need him. She needed him to tell her that everything was going to be ok, that they were going to win this war, that they were both going make it out of this alive. But first she needed her husband to make love to her, and she needed to make love to him. "I need you, l'amour de ma vie. I need you."

"Oh, Fleur," he said, his breath ghosting against her lips. His hand found the edge of her dress and slid up her thigh. Fleur's breath caught in her throat as he reached her center and easily slid a finger inside her. Bill raised his eyebrows. She rolled her hips against his hand a few times before he pressed another finger into her. He thrust once, twice, then removed his fingers altogether.

Fleur whined.

Bill ignored her, pulled his hand out from under her dress, and sucked the fingers that had been inside her into his mouth.

Fleur keened.

"Je vais manger ta chatte ce soir," Bill said, his voice dropping an octave or two. Fleur had no doubt that she would end up with Bill's face between her legs at some point tonight, but right now, she wanted him inside her.

She rose up onto her knees, and both of Bill's hands made their way under her skirt this time. One found the hip bone where his name was tattooed while the other slotted his cock against her. With a breath of relief, Fleur slid down onto him.

They remained still for a moment, their foreheads pressed together and sharing the same air. This was what she needed, to feel him against her like this, like she hadn't the past month and a half. They'd been lucky if they got a moment to cuddle, with all the planning and Harry and the war.

"Ma raison d'être," he muttered against her neck as she pulled the elastic from his hair. My reason for being. It was a French term of endearment that he had picked up when they'd taken an impromptu trip to Paris last fall. He'd fallen in love with it, and Fleur had fallen more in love with him every time he'd said it.

Bill's fingers found the back of her dress, gently undoing the zipper until the straps were beginning to fall off her shoulders. Reverently, he kissed her shoulder as he slid one strap off then did the same to the other side. Fleur let her fingers tangle in his hair until he started to slip the gown off of her. Once the top of the dress was around her waist, his hand found her side and squeezed.

Her eyes flew up to his, and emotion clogged her throat as she was hit with the amount of love that was shining back at her. Bill had always been so free with his love, as if he had so much more to give if only someone asked for it. He had been kind to her and teased her and helped her adjust when she first came to England. He deserved the world, and she would have given it all to him if he would keep looking at her exactly as he was now.

She hadn't realized she started to cry until he began to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Je t'aime, je t'aime," he muttered urgently. "Ne pleure pas."

She did not mean to cry and upset him, but she could not help it, could not force the tears to stop coming.

"I want to make it out of this war with you," she whispered.

"You will," Bill said, his hand gliding down her back.

"It is not me I am worried about," she said. "It is you." Bill's features softened then. "I do not want to be a widow for longer than I am a wife."

"Oh, Fleur," he muttered. "That won't happen. I won't let it. I will always come home to you."

It was such a beautiful promise for all that it might be broken.

She moved her hips then, softly rocking against him. Bill gasped, one of his hands going to her hip to steady himself. Fleur's hand found his face, her thumb running across his cheek and over his scars. He pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand, hissing out a breath as she dropped back onto him.

"Bill," she whispered, her own hands falling to her breasts as his ran up and down her back.

"Mon amour, you are so beautiful," he said, eyes locked on where she was rolling her nipples in between her fingers. "So pretty."

Bill's compliments were like no other man's. He had seen her first for her intelligence, and then her looks. No one outside of her family and a few close friends had really bothered to look beneath the surface. Bill always did. So, when he complimented her looks, she knew he meant it out of love, and less like the superficial way that most men meant it.

His lips found the space between her neck and her shoulder, and he sucked harshly at it. Fleur gasped, knowing he intended to leave a mark. His hips pressed up into her, and she tangled her hands in his hair. As soon as her hands were gone, Bill moved his kisses lower and his hands found her breasts.

"Please, mon amour," she gasped, dropping down onto him quicker than she meant to.

"Holy fuck," he swore, his hands going to her hips. "How are you always so good?"

Fleur laughed. "Practice?"

"Ferme ta bouche," Bill gasped against her skin.

She giggled when he told her to shut up, mainly because the syllables had been so broken up that he hadn't even sounded menacing. He muttered her name then, and Fleur continued to rock against him, heat coiling in the pit of her stomach.

"Je t'aime," she whispered after a particularly wonderful thrust.

"I won't leave you," he said suddenly, grasping her face in between his palms and forcing her to look into his eyes. "I won't. I refuse to let them take me from you."

Fleur wanted to kiss him and cry all at once. Her beautiful, brave husband. In the end, she settled for kissing him as her hips stuttered in their rhythm, and she dove over the edge with him.

They panted, sharing the same air, as Fleur caressed his face while he ran his fingers up and down her bare back. Gently, his hands found the clips that had been holding her hair up and it cascaded down around them, offering a brief shelter from the war raging around them.

"Ma cœur," he said, tracing his finger over her heart.

"Bill, je t'aime," she said softly.

"Je t'aime, je t'aime," he muttered gathering her up in his arms and holding her close to his chest.

At least for a little while, they could forget what darkness lay outside their beautiful home.

#bill x fleur #bleur #bill weasley #fleur delacour #i changed the wording slighlty #only because i love fleur speaking to bill in french #answered #my writing #smut

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violetsandfluff · 2 years

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This is a bit of a new concept but imagine being Shawn's youngest sister (10/11) with a twin older than you by like 5 minutes and Aaliyah still younger than Shawn but older than the both of you and your twin plays ice hockey and wins like tournaments and trophies and you just feel left out so Shawn flies you out to meet him on tour and he takes you sightseeing in cities you've dreamed of going to and just shows you how much he loves being your older brother.

big brother!Shawn for the win, bestieee! the beginning sucks, but read it anyway. it gets better imo. a little cliché, i took this a little too far 💀

Aaliyah had always been a sporty girl. Your parents had enrolled you in all kinds of sports (especially skating and hockey) from the moment you were old enough.

Aaliyah always excelled at those types of things, but it was always harder for you. You often felt blocked out by her shadow and eventually quit every activity that she was doing. You wanted to be an individual rather than Liyah’s sister.

Shawn noticed this as soon as you did and he immediately began coaching you, but you didn’t want to take it. As much as Shawn loved Aaliyah, he seemed to relate to you more; more than he could tell you.

Amid another busy sports season, Aaliyah was busy and you were bored. Shawn was on tour and you really didn’t have anything to do without him.

Your bedroom became your haven, filled with books, notepads, an iPad and various toys. You were usually alone there, and accepting of the fact, so you were surprised when your iPad began ringing with a video call.

You answered and your older brother’s smiling face showed up on the screen. You recognized where he was, too. The outside of your house was behind him and he appeared to be walking backwards up your sidewalk.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed. “I miss you. I’m home for the day, but I’m gonna kidnap you, don’t tell Mom and Dad!”

“You’re what?” You asked in disbelief, sitting upright on your fluffy rug. “I get to come with you?”

“Sure do, Buttercup,” he grinned as he shut the front door, hanging up instantly as you pounded down the stairs. You threw yourself at him and he picked you up, twirling you around.

“You’ve gotten taller,” he joked, looking down at you from his 6’2” frame. “Or maybe I shrunk.”

“You didn’t shrink,” you assured him. “Did Mom and Dad say I could go?”

“Yeah. Mom printed you a list of what you’ll need for the next two weeks.”

“Two weeks?”

“Is that okay?”

Your eyes glowed as you began springing around the living room, squealing in delight. “Yes! I’ve always wanted to come on tour with you!”

Shawn let out a boyish giggle. “Alright. Do you need any help packing?”

You gave him a list of things to do and you were ready in no time at all. The rise to the airport was exciting because Shawn let you sit in the front seat for the first time ever. On the airplane he let you sit by the window and explained what you would do when you landed in Chicago.

“We will go to our hotel for the night, then we’ll go get an early breakfast before my sound check tomorrow. I have a few interviews that I need to do, but you can come along if you want. The afternoon is free until showtime.”

“Wow,” you breathed sleepily. “That sounds incredible!”

He grinned. “I hope you have fun, baby sister.”

The hotel was better than you had imagined. It was expensive-looking and it had two lush beds and a comfy couch, each in separate rooms. The windows were huge and held a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan. The sky was blue and the lake was bluer and the bathroom accent tiles were even bluer than both. That was not a good choice, but maybe that’s what rich people liked.

☀︎ ☀�� ☀︎

“So how do Mom and Dad put you and Liyah to bed now?” Shawn asked, sitting down on the end of your bed as you threw your hair into twin braids. “Do they read you bedtime stories or sing you a lullaby?”

“Shawn,” you giggled. “I’m not a baby. They tuck me in and kiss my forehead and tell me they love me.”

“Is that all?” Shawn asked, acting hurt. “I can sing a beautiful lullaby for you?”

“I don’t need that,” it was a little awkward for you to think about your big brother singing you to sleep.

“Nonsense. I have this really cool song—it’s called Mercy—and I think you might like it!”

“Not to toot my own horn, but…” you prompted and he shushed you.

“Come on, Y/N. You’re ruining the mood. Anyway, I’m going to sing you to sleep.” he began humming and singing his song and it brought tears to your sleepy eyes.

You closed them, praying that they would go away, but the longer he sang, his voice got quieter and more gentle. He changed a few lyrics to make it more lullaby-esque, which was funny, but it still moves you.

The tears squeezed out of your tightly shut eyes and down your cheeks and he noticed. He wiped them off with the rough pads of his thumbs. He bent down, kissing your forehead, and straightened, tucking the blankets up around you. “I love you,” he murmured, smiling at your sleeping body. “I’m so excited to spend the next two weeks with you.”

☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Shawn threw the curtains open and the bright sun shone onto your face. You were settled among the numerous plush pillows and blankets, sleeping soundly.

“Wakey Wakey, eggs and bakey!”

You giggled, extending your arms to stretch, but stopping cold when they collided with the headboard.

Shawn laughed as he tore the blankets off of you. “I overslept,” he admitted. “I forgot to set my second and third alarms.

“I get up with zero alarms,” you bragged and Shawn rolled his eyes.

“Not to toot my own horn, but…”

“That’s my thing,” you pouted.

“Jealous much? Anyway,” he said as he helped you straighten your bed, “go get dressed. I can finish this on my own. If we want breakfast, we need to leave right now.”

You slipped into your favorite outfit and struck a pose for Shawn. He smiled at your sleep-frizzed braids paired with high-waisted jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Come on, fashionista,” he grinned. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“I don’t know.”

“Good,” he grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that. I have somewhere to take you.”

He brought you to a small cafe and ordered a scone for you to share. The scone was huge and chocolaty and you devoured your half immediately.

“Good?” Shawn asked through a mouthful. He was eating a lot slower than you, but he began eating faster when he checked his watch. As soon as he finished, he darted out of the cafe with his drink and you on his heels.

You sipped your orange juice as you walked into the sound check with Shawn. You watched him set up microphones, unsure if you should help. When you concluded that he could do without you, you swiped his phone off of the backstage table and wandered through the massive venue. You sat up in the top of the venue and screamed and clapped for your big brother.

☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎

Shawn let you sit in on his interviews and the hosts even asked you a few questions.

The afternoon was spent wading in the icy lake and his show was incredible. He chose to sing Nothing Holdin’ Me Back in honor of you, saying, “I’d like to dedicate this next song to my baby sister, Y/N. She was sweet enough to join me on tour for the next couple of weeks and cheer me on from backstage. Everyone say, Hi, Y/N!”

“Hi, Y/N!” The crowd shouted and you poked your head out onto the bright stage and waved, mouthing, hi!

He handed her a microphone, shaking the cord’s knots out as he spoke into his, “I want you to sing with me.”

The stadium roared as you blushed a deep shade of red. He plucked a few notes on his guitar and gave you a smile.

You were still dressed in your old sweatshirt and jeans and you felt severely underdressed in terms of what you were wearing, but you were still sweating.

He started playing and you gulped, but when it came time to sing, you sang your heart out, taking the lead naturally. When you finished, the applause thundered and you retreated skittishly from the stage as Shawn shouted for the crowd to “give it up for Y/N Mendes!”

☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎

Back at the hotel, Shawn tucked you in again and told you how proud he was of you.

Taglist: @wayfcharlie @fishingirl12 @monikamendes @pamelagramm

#🦢💌#🫧anon #fanfic #imagine #blurb #fluff #Shawn mendes #big brother!shawn #brother!shawn #sister!reader #Shawn mendes fanfic #Shawn mendes concept #Shawn mendes blurb #Shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes imagine #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart

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zalrb · 1 year

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OTH podcast - the girls are on mid S4 & they just keep roasting Peyton and Lucas for having “terrible dialog”, but what I love is Joy said “it weirded me out seeing the two of them kiss. I just get brother/sister chemistry” or energy, can’t recall verbatim the word she used but definitely addressed their chemistry issue. Lol. Maybe for her it was personal but… cmon… girl… we agree in this house! But yea, they just keep saying how underwhelming it was when they did get together and start dating after spending 3 seasons “building them up”

LMAO someone told me Joy said that they looked like siblings and I LOL'ed because I'd been saying they looked like twins FOR. YEARS. It was SO uncomfortable for me to watch, like??

and season 4 was just them trying so hard to be like WE'RE HAPPY. THE SKY IS BLUER, FOOD TASTES YUMMIER omg shut up

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tehuti88-art · 4 months

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1/5/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Constanze von Staden. She's Adalard's sister, and unbeknownst to him at first, works for the resistance. There'll be more about her later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se, though there's already some in Adalard's entry.

Regarding her design, I wanted her to resemble Adalard yet not look like his twin. I pictured her with black hair, but thought she might look too similar to Nixie, so made it dark brown. Her eyes are also bluer than Adalard's though I'm iffy on that. She's wearing a headband.

TUMBLR EDIT: I haven't much new yet to share about Constanze, older(?) sister of Adalard, a young Junker fighter pilot who briefly ends up in a labor camp. Most of her role in the story is already outlined in her brother's entry, linked above. I don't yet know, for example, what exactly it was that convinced her the Third Reich is evil and to aid the resistance instead, to the extent that she's willing to use herself as a honeypot to gain info on the SS. Perhaps this info will present itself sometime when I have more opportunity to brainstorm background characters. I can safely say she's very levelheaded, with steel nerves and great love for Adalard; she's the only one of their little family who dares to criticize the SS for what they did to him, while their father hides behind placation and their mother just cowers in fear. She sets to work seducing an SS guy in hopes of obtaining info on her missing brother while her parents simply accept the BS the Nazis feed them. (Vischer and Captain Altermann, two visitors to the camp, are the ones who end up getting von Staden freed, but Constanze does try her best, considering the lone resource she has to work with--her sexuality.)

For some reason Constanze's appearance, in my head, was never particularly "Aryan." Von Staden himself would be blond if I drew my male rats with hair, yet Constanze has always appeared as dark haired. As I mentioned though, I didn't want her to be a clone of Nixie, so gave her brown hair instead. She's quite serious in demeanor, though so is her brother, so maybe it was just the way they were raised; many of my Junkers are rather humorless and stoic, with a few exceptions (Katharina von Thiel, Wil Volker, and Hasso Reinhardt come to mind).

Anyway, I think now I'm just typing to fill in space that could be saved until I get working on her profile. I've FINALLY been adding my Trench Rats characters' profiles on Toyhou.se! You can find the folder HERE. It's still not caught up, but now that I've streamlined the profile format and decided to reserve the meat of the info for later addition, it's going much more smoothly! Feel free to check it out, and let me know if you'd like an invite code, I can currently generate...417 codes. Yikes. SERIOUSLY DOES ANYONE NEED A TOYHOU.SE CODE, I've only ever generated one and that person never visits the site, sigh.

I'll leave off here since I literally have nothing more at the moment. When and if Constanze's story develops, Toyhou.se is likely where it'll appear (I guess unless the site goes under :/ ).

[Constanze von Staden 2024 [‎Friday, ‎January ‎5, ‎2024, ‏‎3:00:57 AM]]

#artists on tumblr #ibisPaint x #SketchDaily #original characters

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matter-of-a-pinion · 3 years

Text

Prompt 16: Crane

"Liiiiiiiiiiiv," Nyra whined the vowel in her twin sister's name until almost no breath was left in her lungs to release the final voiced fricative. The <v> came out more like a sputtered <f> with a dramatic weight to it only there to convince Liv of how heavy her boredom was. Waves of thick, soft, pale blond curls spilled out like a fan against the dark blue rug on the sisters' shared floor, and as Nyra stared up from the floor at Liv sitting at her desk, Liv thought to herself that her twin had turned herself into the perfect portrait. The dark blue rug somehow made every lovely feature of the younger twin that much more captivating: blue eyes bluer, blond curls more striking, fair skin somehow even more radiant.

Leave it to Nyra to make better art out of herself on accident than Liv, a practicing painter, could make on purpose. Fucking typical.

"Nyyyyyyyyyyyy rah," Liv responded mockingly. "If you stay there I'm going to step you."

The younger twin spread her arms and legs out wide, as though making a snow angel on the rug, and stubbornly said, "Go ahead. Do it. At least murdering me would make you do something different than folding all the paper in the house to make stupid birds."

"Cranes aren't stupid," Liv protested, ignoring the actual point of the complaint. "They're actually extremely intelligent. Honestly, most birds are. People always want to rag on them but-"

"No, Liv, stop! If you're gonna kill me do it by stepping on me not by boring me to death! That's torture! Torture is a crime!"

Liv raised an eyebrow and pushed a loose strand of blond hair, darker and less curly than her twin's, behind her ear. "Technically, murder is a crime too soooo…"

"Sooooo," Nyra shot up into a sitting position and pouted her lips at Liv with exasperated restlessness. "I want to go out and do things."

"So go out and do them!"

"Nooooo. With you! I want to take a trip to the city, but Mom won't let me go without you, so come on! What's the point of making 500 of those stupid-- sorry-- very smart birds anyway? You hit 500 and it makes a real bird? Will it be a better sister than you are?"

Liv rolled her eyes. "Probably," she admitted. "It might think you're charming instead of just an obnoxious brat. But no promises. Anyway, it's not 500 birds." She paused to let suspense build and to relish what she knew would be a look of horror on her twin's face when she heard the correction, "...It's 1000."

"Halone's fury! Liv, what the absolute hell!? That's it. Ok. I'll just go put on my best dress, lie in bed, and wait there to die of old age in it while you make 1000 birds. That's fine."

"Great!" Liv chirped happily. "Try not to sigh too much while you're lying there waiting for the Reaper? It's very distracting. I mess up and have to start over when distracted. So it's more like 2000 birds I have to try to make to get 1000 done correctly."

Nyra didn't answer. She just glowered and the room felt darker and colder for it. Liv pretended not to notice and continued folding paper cranes. "Do you want to know why I'm making so many?"

"No." Nyra sulked darkly.

"Great! So, I'm making them because cranes were a symbol of longevity and fortune in some cultures. Nature magic reveres them for it. It's said that if you make a crane for every year of a crane's life-- 1000 so the stories say-- your greatest wish will come true. But you have to make all 1000 or it doesn't work." She folded another and dropped it into a basket by her desk, already overflowing with the origami. "It's all chocobo crap though."

"What is it?" Her twin asked.

"I mean, cranes don't live 1000 years. They live maybe twenty or thir-"

"No. Your wish. What's your wish, Liv?"

Livana put down the paper and looked out the window. The midday sun shone down upon the snow making it glitter like diamonds. The sky it rested in was big, blue, and expansive. Not a cloud in sight. Not one obstacle. "I wish I could fly away," Liv answered. "To anywhere. Somewhere. Just open the window and disappear without a word."

Nyra was silent for a moment, her own gaze following her sister's out the window. In the distance a bird cawwed only to be answered seconds later by another caw-- presumably two corvids working out the details of where to fly away to next.

"Ok," Nyra said gently. "I understand that wish."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." The younger twin grinned. "If I help you we both get our wish granted." She grabbed a chair next to Liv and took a sheet of paper. "You get 1000 stupid-sorry-smart birds in a basket and I get to go to Ishgard with you when it's done. There." She threw paper into the basket. "What is that? Like 812?"

Liv groaned, but couldn't keep the smile from her lips anyway. "It's 789. Same number I was on before you sat there because I don't know what you just threw in the basket but it was not a crane."

"It definitely was. It had all three wings."

"I'm gonna murder you." Liv laughed.

"That's a crime, remember?" Nyra laughed back. "Guards! Guards! Come get my sister before she flies out the window on all three wings!"

"It's two wings to fly," Liv stated. "One wing to smack you with."

"Ah. More torture. More crime. How like you."

"Yep. It's kinda my thing. Give me another sheet of paper."

"Grab it with your third wing, criminal. 790."

"It's still 789. That's still not a crane."

"Aaaaaaugh. You really are killing me here!"

#FFXIVWrite2021 #FFXIVWrite #FFXIV #I didn't have any kind of ending in mind #Pretty sure Liv must have learned to make these cranes from Sibert's ex #I wonder what Sib's ex's wish was...?#This story just kinda goes until suddenly it doesn;t #Just like these tags!#Writings #Liv #Nyra

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alwaysalreadyangry · 3 years

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most of the UK reviews i’ve read of martin eden have been a disappointment, tbh. i don’t know if this is because critics have been busy with cannes or because outlets here just don’t have the space, or because it’s kind of seen as old news. i have seen no real engagement with the politics or form beyond a couple of cursory lines, and it’s a shame because... i think it’s really rich wrt those elements?

so i am looking again at the (wonderful) review from film comment last year and it’s such a shame that it’s not available freely online. so i thought i’d post it here behind a cut. it’s long but worth it imo (and also engages really interestingly with marcello’s other films). it’s by phoebe chen.

COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUSNESS Jan 3, 2020 BY PHOEBE CHEN

EARLY IN JACK LONDON’S 1909 NOVEL MARTIN EDEN, there is a scattering of references to technical ephemera that the 20th century will promptly leave behind: “chromos and lithographs,” those early attempts at large-scale reproduction; “a vast camera obscura,” by then a centuries-old relic; a bullfight so fervid it’s like “gazing into a kinetoscope,” that proto-cinematic spectacle of cloistered motion. These objects now seem like archaic curios, not much more than the flotsam of culture from the moment it shifted gears to mass production. It’s a change in scale that also ensnares the novel’s title character, a hardy young sailor and autodidact-turned-writer-célèbre, famously an avatar of London’s own hollowing transmutation into a figure for mass consumption. But, lucky him—he remains eminent now on the other side of a century; chance still leaves a world of names and faces to gather dust. Easily the most arresting aspect of Pietro Marcello’s new adaptation is its spotlight on the peripheral: from start to end, London’s linear Künstlerroman is intercut with a dizzying range of archival footage, from a decaying nitrate strip of anarchist Errico Malatesta at a workers’ rally to home video–style super 16mm of kids jiving by an arcade game. In these ghostly interludes, Marcello reanimates the visual detritus of industrial production as a kind of archival unconscious.

This temporal remixing is central to Marcello’s work, mostly experimental documentaries that skew auto-ethnographic and use elusive, essayistic editing to constellate place and memory, but always with a clear eye to the present. Marcello’s first feature, Crossing the Line (2007), gathers footage of domestic migrant workers and the nocturnal trains that barrel them to jobs across the country, laying down a recurring fascination with infrastructure. By his second feature, The Mouth of the Wolf (2009), there is already the sense of an artist in riveting negotiation with the scope of his story and setting. Commissioned by a Jesuit foundation during Marcello’s yearlong residency in the port city of Genoa, the film ebbs between a city-symphonic array and a singular focus on the story of a trans sex worker and her formerly incarcerated lover, still together after 20-odd years and spells of separation. Their lives are bound up with a poetic figuration of the city’s making, from the mythic horizon of ancient travails, recalled in bluer-than-blue shots of the Ligurian Sea at dawn, to new-millennium enterprise in the docklands, filled with shipping crates and bulldozers busy with destruction.

Marcello brings a similar approach to Martin Eden, though its emphasis is inverted: it’s the individual narrative that telescopes a broader history of 20th-century Italy. In this pivotal move, Marcello and co-writer Maurizio Braucci shift London’s Oakland-set story to Naples, switching the cold expanse of the North Pacific for the Mediterranean and its well-traversed waters. The young century, too, is switched out for an indeterminate period with jumbled signifiers: initial clues point to a time just shy of World War II, though a television set in a working-class household soon suggests the late ’50s, and then a plastic helicopter figurine loosely yokes us to the ’70s. Even the score delights in anachronism, marked by a heavy synth bass that perforates the sacral reverb of a cappella and organ song, like a discotheque in a cathedral. And—why not?—’70s and ’80s Europop throwbacks lend archival sequences a further sense of epochal collapse. While Marcello worked with researcher Alessia Petitto for the film’s analog trove, much of its vintage stock is feigned by hand-tinting and distressing original 16mm footage. Sometimes a medium-change jolts with sudden incongruity, as in a cut to dockworkers filmed in black and white, their faces and hands painted in uncanny approximations of living complexions. Other transitions are so precisely matched to color and texture that they seem extensions of a dream.

Martin’s writer’s optimism is built on a faith in language as the site of communication and mutual recognition. So follows his tragedy.

Patchworked from the scraps of a long century, this composite view seems to bristle against a story of individual formation. It feels like a strange time for an artist’s coming-of-age tale adapted with such sincerity, especially when that central emphasis on becoming—and becoming a writer, no less—is upended by geopolitical and ecological hostility. At first, our young Martin strides on screen with all the endearing curiosity of an archetypal naïf, played by Luca Marinelli with a cannonballing force that still makes room for the gentler affects of embarrassment and first love. Like the novel, the film begins with a dockside rescue: early one morning, Martin saves a young aristocrat from a beating, for which he is rewarded with lunch at the family estate. On its storied grounds, Martin meets the stranger’s luminous sister, Elena Orsini (Jessica Cressy), a blonde-haloed and silk-bloused conduit for his twinned desires of knowledge and class transgression. In rooms of ornate stucco and gilded everything, the Orsinis parade their enthusiasm for education in a contrived show of open-mindedness, a familiar posture of well-meaning liberals who love to trumpet a certain model of education as global panacea. University-educated Elena can recite Baudelaire in French; Martin trips over simple conjugations in his mother tongue. “You need money to study,” he protests, after Elena prescribes him a back-to-school stint. “I’m sure that your family would not ignore such an important objective,” she insists (to an orphan, who first set sail at age 11).

Anyone who has ever been thrilled into critical pursuit by a single moment of understanding knows the first beat of this story. Bolting through book after book, Martin is fired by the ever-shifting measure of his knowledge. In these limitless stretches of facts to come, there’s the promised glow of sheer comprehension, the way it clarifies the world as it intoxicates: “All hidden things were laying their secrets bare. He was drunk with comprehension,” writes London. Marcello is just as attentive to how Martin understands, a process anchored to the past experiences of his working body. From his years of manual labor, he comes to knowledge in a distinctly embodied way, charming by being so literal. At lunch with the Orsinis, he offers a bread roll as a metaphor for education and gestures at the sauce on his plate as “poverty,” tearing off a piece of education and mopping up the remnants with relish. Later, in a letter to Elena, he recounts his adventures in literacy: “I note down new words, I turn them into my friends.” In these early moments, his expressions are as playful as they are trenchant, enlivened by newfound ways of articulating experience. His writer’s optimism is built on a faith in language as the site of communication and mutual recognition. So follows his tragedy.

One of Marcello’s major structural decisions admittedly makes for some final-act whiplash, when a cut elides the loaded years of Martin’s incremental success, stratospheric fame, and present fall into jaded torpor. By now, he is a bottle-blonde chain-smoker with his own palazzo and entourage, set to leave on a U.S. press tour even though he hasn’t written a thing in years. His ideas have been amplified to unprecedented reach by mass media, and his words circulate as abstract commodities for a vulturine audience. For all its emphasis on formation, Martin Eden is less a story of ebullient self-discovery than one of inhibiting self-consciousness. There is no real sense that Martin’s baseline character has changed, because it hasn’t. Even his now best-selling writing is the stuff of countless prior rejected manuscripts. From that first day at the Orsini estate, when his roughness sticks out to him as a fact, he learns about the gulf between a hardier self-image and the surface self that’s eyed by others.

WITH SUCH A DEEPLY INHABITED PERFORMANCE by Marinelli, it’s intuitive to read the film as a character study, but the lyrical interiority of London’s novel never feels like the point of Marcello’s adaptation. Archival clips—aged by time, or a colorist’s hand—often seem to illustrate episodes from Martin’s past, punctuating the visual specificity of individual memory: a tense encounter with his sister cuts to two children dancing with joyous frenzy; his failed grammar-school entrance exam finds its way to sepia-stained shots of a crippled, shoeless boy. These insertions are more affective echoes than literal ones, the store of a single life drawn from a pool of collective happening.

But, that catch: writing in the hopes of being read, as Martin does (as most do), means feeding some construct of a distinctive self. While the spotlight of celebrity singles out the destructive irony of Martin’s aggressive individualism, Marcello draws from Italy’s roiling history of anarchist and workerist movements to complicate the film’s political critique, taking an itinerant path through factions and waves from anarcho-communism in the early 1900s to the pro-strike years of autonomist Marxism in the late ’70s. In place of crystalline messaging is a structure that parallels Martin’s own desultory politics, traced in both film and novel through his commitment to liberal theorist Herbert Spencer. Early on, Martin has an epiphanic encounter with Spencer’s First Principles (a detail informed by London’s own discovery of the text as a teen), which lays out a systematic philosophy of natural laws, and offers evolution as a structuring principle for the universe—a “master-key,” London offers. Soon, Martin bellows diatribes shaped by Spencer’s more divisive, social Darwinist ideas of evolutionary justice, as though progress is only possible through cruel ambivalence. Late in the film, an image of a drunk and passed-out Martin cuts to yellowed footage of a young boy penciling his name—“Martin Eden”—over and over in an exercise book, a dream of becoming turned memory.

In Marcello’s previous feature, Lost and Beautiful (2015), memory is more explicitly staged as an attachment to landscape. Like Alice Rohrwacher’s Happy as Lazzaro, Lost and Beautiful plays as a pastoral elegy but lays out the bureaucratic inefficiency that hastens heritage loss through neglect. Rolling fields make occasional appearances in Martin Eden, but its Neapolitan surroundings evoke a different history. Far from the two oceans that inspired a North American tradition of maritime literature, the Mediterranean guards its own idiosyncrasies of promise and catastrophe. Of the Sea’s fraught function as a regional crossroads, Marcello has noted, in The Mouth of the Wolf, a braiding of fate and agency: “They are men who transmigrate,” the opening voiceover intones. “We don’t know their stories. We know they chose, found this place, not others.” Mare Nostrum—“Our Sea”—is the Roman epithet for the Mediterranean, a possessive projection that abides in current vernacular. Like so many cities that cup the sea, Naples is a site of immigrant crossing, a fact slyly addressed in Martin Eden with a fleeting long shot of black workers barreling hay in a field of slanted sun, and, at the end, a group of immigrants sitting on a beach at dusk. Brief, but enough to mark the changing conditions of a new century.

Not much is really new, however: not the perils of migration, nor the proselytizing individualists, nor the media circus, nor the classist distortions of taste, nor, blessedly, the kind of learning for learning’s sake that stokes and sustains an interest in the world. Toward the end of the film, there is a shot of our tired once-hero, slumped in the back seat of a car, that cuts to sepia stock of children laughing and running to reach the camera-as-car-window, as if peering through glass and time. It recalls a scene from Wim Wenders’s Wings of Desire, which leaps backward through a similar gaze, when the weary angel Cassiel looks out of a car window at the vista of ’80s Berlin and sees, instead, grainy footage of postwar streets strewn with rubble in fresh ruin. Where human perception is shackled to linearity, these wool-coated and scarfed seraphs—a materialization of Walter Benjamin’s “angel of history”—see all of time in a simultaneous sweep, as they wander Berlin with their palliative touch. Marcello’s Martin Eden mosaics a view less pointedly omniscient, but just as filled with a humanist commitment to the turning world, even as Martin slides into disillusion. All its faces plucked from history remind me of a line from a Pasolini poem: “Everything on that street / was human, and the people all clung / to it tightly.”

Phoebe Chen is a writer and graduate student living in New York.

#martin eden #film

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abybweisse · 2 years

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Hello, how are you! Seeing that Layla is a random person chosen by UT to serve a purpose, I’m starting to think that the three lords of the stars are random people without a direct connection to the Phantomhives but of specific backgrounds. Also, I think that UT doesn’t really care about them apart from them fulfilling their roles. I may be wrong of course.

Not too bad, and you? 😆

No connections?

Well, I could also be wrong, but I expect at least one of these lords (besides Sirius, of course) to have ties to the Phantomhives. Polaris seems like the best bet, so far.

Even if/once Layla is confirmed to be Lord Canopus, there's still a slight chance that the twins know her... or who she used to be. It's also possible that they don't know her, but Undertaker has some other connection to her; she's still not randomly selected. It's interesting how "starved" she is for a transfusion, and yet she doesn't seem as physically weak as real Ciel, even when she's running after being stabbed in the heart. She seems to suffer differently. 🤔

And the few clues we have regarding Lord Vega still can't even rule out Bluer's little twin sisters, though they were alive last we saw them... as far as we can tell. 😬 Real Ciel wouldn't previously know them or care, but seeing them as bizarre dolls would really hit a nerve for our earl; he seemed rather amused (for him) by seeing Bluer with all of those sisters of his. The realization they are dead and reanimated would have to disturb him, at least.

There are two main reasons why it would be good for these other "lords" to be known by our earl (or by others in his household):

It's easier to get an emotional response from our earl or one of his "team" that way and

They are easier to "program" with their own cinematic records (as functional "episodes") to be loyal to real Ciel. Either they specifically have reasons to follow real Ciel... or they have reasons to be against our earl (or his supporters) and will show loyalty to anyone powerful enough to take him on.

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marauder-level-chaos · 3 years

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If You Just Smile

So if you have been reading any of my wolfstar work, you know that Amethyst Black is my OC and Sirius’ twin. She is the only female marauder. Her animagus is an arctic fox and her animagus name is Zerry. This is a pining fic for her and Fabian Prewett, pov Meth, because I feel like I don’t write enough of those.

Warnings: pining, swearing, they are idiots basically

A/N: As mentioned above, Amethyst is my OC and Siri’s twin sister. She is on a few other fics of mine. Please leave feedback it means a lot, especially since this is an OC, haha. I know it’s a little choppy but like meh. Also McGonagall lowkey ships this.

***

Transfiguration was great, but Amethyst was glad it was her last class for the day. She walked into the classroom and sat down in her usual seat beside James Potter. Remus and her brother took the pair of seats behind them. Remus then pulled out the map - the marauders’ map, as they liked to call it - and the four students began discussing their next prank.

“We’ll have to go in through the Hufflepuff dorms.” Remus explained.

“Or we could just spike the drinks when they come out.”

“Under Filch’s watchful eye? I don’t-” Amethyst cut herself short as her eyes snapped to the door. Fabian Prewett had just walked in. The three boys followed Meth’s gaze and looked at her with identical smirks. They knew about her little crush on the ginger haired boy and they definitely did not make it easy for her.

“Fabian! Come join us!” Sirius called and Amethyst shot him a glare. Fabian smiled at them and made his way over. His

“Hi, guys! Hey, Meth.”

“Hi.” Amethyst responded, smiling back at him. Up close, she noticed his eyes were a lot bluer than she had thought before.

“Why don’t you sit here, Fab?” James chimed in, and Amethyst felt the heat rise to her face as her crush came and sat down beside her.

“Oh, I have something for you.” Fabian fished out Amethyst’s glasses from his pocket. “You forgot these in DADA so I thought you might need them.”

“I didn’t forget them. I just don’t think I need them anymore.”

“Really, Meth? In the fifteen minutes between DADA and Transfiguration you decided that you don’t need to see anymore?”

“Remus, shut the fuck up.” Amethyst told her friend. However, their bickering was cut short when they heard Professor McGonagall behind them.

“Ms. Black, Mr. Prewett, I hope you know that I will be seeing you in detention this friday for disrupting my classroom. As for the rest of you,” she said, looking at James, Sirius and Remus, “you serve detention tonight.”

When McGonagall went back to her desk, Sirius leaned forward and whispered, “Getting detention as a first date? That’s pretty cool.”

“It’s not a date, Sirius.” Amethyst said, correcting her brother.

“You know, it could be.” Fabian interjected, causing Amethyst to stare at him.

“Oh Merlin, please, yes.” Amethyst muttered. Fabian took her hand and gently kissed it.

“Then I will see you on Friday, my lady.” Blush rose to Meth’s cheeks when Fabian winked at her. She nodded, after getting over the initial shock of what had just happened.

“Hey, Meth, is that blush on your cheeks?” James teased, and Amethyst shot him a look that made him cower in fear.

Taglist: @addisonsintern @quickbright @beanieyogurt @just--another--bean @dreamerthinker @stevie-rin-hargreeves @tolkienlockian

#prewack #fabian x amethyst #amethyst x fabian #fabian prewett #Amethyst Black #marauders #marauders era #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #minerva mcgonagall #James Potter

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poisonhemloc · 3 years

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this might turn into a fic eventually but I just wanted it down right now

I was trying to find a way to get Amy Dylandy into an everyone lives!au and. I found the worst way

heads up I did not proofread this and I am not spending the time to make it more legible right now.

Lyle is out walking past the bombing memorial, it’s late, he left later than he should have and. There’s someone at one of the benches nearby, they’re not sobbing but they’re kinda hiccup crying like they were sobbing earlier and he’s going “don’t get involved” and then sits down and goes” You okay?” anyway and.

She’s younger than him probably but not be a lot, brown hair and blue eyes and skinny and tall and he’s immediately going she looks a lot like Amy would have, but he’s seen her around the war memorial a few times, she’s vaguely familiar, he’s just never stopped to talk. And she’s still crying a little and he can smell if she isn’t drunk she’s tipsy and she explains her name’s Charlotte. It’s her birthday today and he goes okay. Amy was born in the winter and it’s summer. Just a coincidence.

But she’s still half crying and she explains she’s sure, sure her family died in the bombing. But the family she’s been living with, her parents, are just as sure she’s their daughter, even if she suddenly couldn’t play the piano but knew how to shoot and her eyes are bluer than they were before the bombing and they won’t listen but she barely remembers from before it, but how many brunettes in pink were running around that day, and how’s she gonna find a pair of twins named Neil and Lyle anyway they’re probably dead-

And Lyle’s brain takes a solid thirty seconds to reboot and goes “Well, what if this is a trap” and starts asking. Do you remember anything about them? And she starts talking about the time they fell out of that tree and he needed stitches and Neil needed a cast and their mom drove them to the hospital and their dad was freaking out and Amy had to stay at home with him, and about their dad taking them all to the shooting range because he was a sharpshooter and wanted his kids to share his hobbies, and how Lyle left for boarding school-

And he cuts in with exactly what school and she stops, she’s still crying a little, and he just. Hi. I’m Lyle Dylandy. You might be my little sister who was killed in the bombing. And they look similar enough the people who’ve been her parents for the last decade can’t argue, not when they’re average height and stocky and Amy and Lyle are both tall and skinny with the same eyes and hair. And Lyle thought he’s been pretty much by himself for years and no, Amy was nearby the entire time.

and when is this in the timeline? before Katharon, before Celestial Being, he’s telling her Neil is alive too he just dropped off the map except to send me money but I have his phone number-but Neil never picks up, never calls back the messages both of them leave, until Lyle gets a message saying someone wants to talk about his brother and then has to go tell Amy they’re wrong, Neil is dead too, or after both and he has to explain Neil died- is he going to lie and say in the bombing, is he going to tell the truth? and he has to decide if his baby sister who he thought was dead for years is trustworthy enough for him to tell her he’s in Celestial Being

#poisonhemloc's rambles #gundam 00 #very attached to this as how amy lives but. it is my au so of course i am #happier note in the tags in the neil lives au Amy is very excited to hear that he's alive but shes going through school to be an engineer #and planning on joining as well cause. both of my brothers are there now and Neil throws a fit #Lyle is a fan of her joining and there are shouting matches on the ptolemy until someone locks him in his room a few days #neil does not want what happened to him to happen to either of his siblings thank you and it takes both of them telling him its not his #decision to get him to at least stop harassing them about it

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dangansthetics · 5 years

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📸Anon requested: “ Can I have a sprite edit of Kaede, but it’s like, her twin sister? Go wild!”

Here she is! I made her sporty looking to contrast Kaede’s music talent. I also did a few minor changes like more faded hair, bluer eyes, beauty mark, and eyebags. Still just looks like Kaede though lol, hopefully this is to your liking ^^

(oh and they so watched Danganronpa together)

-Mod Mahiru

Edit: forgot to make it transparent sorry about that. If you want the png version just dm me @roachiirambles

#mod mahiru #kaede akamatsu #kaede akamatsu twin #team danganronpa #sprite edit #danganronpa sprite edit #danganronpa #dangan kin #danganronpa kin #danganronpa kin blog #kin #fictionkin #sprite edit request #akamatsu twin #akamatsu family

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theunstealthiestninja · 5 years

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The Vagueness of Vega

I think most in the fandom have a theory or two about who the Star Lords identities might be. I know I have my guesses or at least a solid profile of what type of character they might be. But Vega has me stumped on soooo many levels.

The only things I think I know for sure is that Vega has or needs O type blood and definitely has female energy. (I'm not even 100% sure Vega is female so, I'm going with female energy.)

Below are some of the clues we've received about Vega and my thoughts/questions about them:

So here we have the first statement from Vega (that's the door on the right). What can we learn from this?

There are 2 speech bubbles coming from the door. This implies two individuals speaking simultaneously. This has been used in the past to illustrate twins (Bluers twin sisters) speaking simultaneously.

The speech bubbles are a softer fluffier shape than the ones from the other doors. This could be used to indicate youthfulness and/or femininity.

Here we have the room behind Vega's door.

The room seems well appointed. The future and use of draped fabrics on the window and bed curtains is all indications of wealth or high social standings.

There is a feminine quality to the furnishings and decor.

There are two small plush bunnies and two vanities indicating two individuals.

The bed seems small maybe single or twin sized bed. It does seem similar in size to the ones in Polaris' and Canopus' rooms. If there are two occupants they are smaller in size or there is possibly another bed we cannot see.

So this is from the most recent chapter 151. We have a close up of the top of the Star Lords doors at the Sphere music hall and real Ciel and Undertaker are discussing possible fill ins for the position of Phantomhive butler. This scene makes me question so much of what I thought I knew.

Are the Star Lords still based out of the closed down Sphere? Are these new doors located somewhere else? Or is this just a visual reminder of the existence of the Star Lords since it's been so long?

It might be the translation but, RCiel and UT seem to be referring to Vega as a single individual here not a duo.

If Vega's room is an indication of social status, then why would they consider them filling in as a butler?

Similarly, if Vega is female or younger of both, why consider them for the role of butler?

If Vega is younger, then why are they on an assignment to procure more blood? What plan or method have they concocted that a young lady or lad might be useful? (Okay this last question is rather ridiculous since this is the story of a 10 year old who by the age of 12 has built a business empire, runs an earldom and polices the underworld for the queen. I've always felt even in kuro-verse the twins are an exceptions not the rule.)

Everything about Vega seems so very vague and each new bit threatens to contradict what I little I thought I knew. Feel free to correct or add to anything I have here. Opinions and theories are always welcome.

The whole mystery around the Star Lords identities is very intriguing and I'm very interested in seeing this play out.

Edited to add: I forgot this tidbit of information.

This is from back in chapter 116 when Nina is explaining the work she has done for Blavat and the Sphere. This is when we first find out about the Star Lords.

Nina clearly indicates she is making clothing for 4 individuals, Sirius, Canopus, Vega, and Polaris. If there where 2 Vegas wouldn't she be making wardrobes for 5?

The figure at the top does seem similar to that of real Ciel. I am wondering how closely the others will match.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #my kuroshitsuji thoughts #lord vega #vega #real ciel #undertaker #stat lords #edited

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langdonswhxre · 5 years

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Senior Prom

A/N: So I’m not really sure if this is any good or not, but I thought that this idea was really cute and that the timing for this is somewhat appropriate. But I do hope you enjoy this, so please leave suggestions:) Also I didn’t really proofread this so hopefully it’s not too bad lol

Warnings: Slight mentions of drug use. Mentions of smut? Some cussing as well.

Word Count: 2.2k

“-----------” Indicates time change

“And there goes promposal number 6 in a span of 3 days” your friend Leah says irritatedly. “Oh you’re just pissed off because you haven’t been asked yet.” you tease. It had finally been that time of year again, where everyone was focused on which two people were finally going to go to prom together. You weren’t a fan of those dances, but at the same time you didn’t mind being asked either.

“You know, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to be asked out. It’s just that these whole ‘in front of the entire school’ thing is just too much. Why not be asked out in a simple way? Like at dinner or after watching a movie and just ask in just a nice simple way, like ‘hey let’s go to prom together’.” Leah did have a point. You two had been friends for years and you two agreed on everything.

“Good point.” you shrugged grabbing your english textbook out of your locker. “Are you even planning on going to prom this year, missy?” In all honesty, you hadn’t even thought about it. You were more focused on your studies, with the occasional party here and there.

You hummed out that “I don’t know” hum. “If anyone asks me I might consider it, but it’s not at the very top of my list.” Leah begins to chuckle to herself, and you finally close your locker and look at her. “What?” you look at her with confusion. “Oh nothing” she begins. “It’s just funny to me, that’s all.”

“Okay? What’s so funny” you grow a bit impatient with the fact that she’s not straightforward with you as usual. “The fact that if James were to ask you, you’d quickly drop everything just to say yes and go buy a pretty blue dress to match his pretty blue eyes.”

You looked at her with shock in your eyes. “Jimmy? Like Jim- Jim Mason? That Jim?” she smiled a bright smile “Mhmm, I know you have a crush on him. You both practically strip each other with your eyes. It’s not hard to tell.

”You’d met Jim your sophomore year of high school. He and his twin sister were new in town and everyone wanted to meet the beautiful brown haired boy with blue eyes. He grew instantly popular. Medina, not so much. She’d been very reclusive and never really talked to anyone due to everyone being so strung up on Jim. You’d been lucky to know him because he sat next to you in biology.

Lucky.

Could you even call it that?

You’d try to help him out as much as possible when he got super high on god knows what. His occasional episodes or outburst almost giving him away. Eventually, you almost did get somewhere with him and he almost stopped altogether. Yeah you did grow some attachment to him, but you’d never admit that.

-----------

JIM’S POV:

Prom, prom, prom. How do I ask her to prom? What if she rejects me? What if she already as a date? What are the guys going to think? They’re gonna think I’m going soft. I can’t do that. Maybe I shouldn’t even ask. Maybe I’m in way over my head. She has no feelings for you, but you, god damn it you do.

“Jim are you okay?” Medina comes into his room looking over at Jim’s panicked face. “I want to ask someone to prom but I’m so nervous. I- I don’t know what to do. I’ve never done this before” Medina smiles at his nervousness. “Let me guess. Y/N?”

Jim turns his head to Medina quickly and squints his eyes. “How did you know?” She smiles at him and slowly walks out his room. “Call it...twin telepathy.”

If anyone could ever make Jim feel better, it was always Medina. They had that special twin bond. That bond everyone longs for.

“You didn’t answer my question!!” he shouted. She quickly popped her head back into his room “I overheard her and her friend talking today. Take her to dinner and ask her plain and simple.” she then walks out.

Plain and simple? What the hell is that even supposed to mean?

-----------

*Ring ring ring*

6:00am.

It was just your usual early morning, getting ready for school routine.

Get up, shower, change, eat, brush teeth.

Done.

[Incoming Text]

Jimmy: Hey. Good morning:)

Y/N: Good morning<3

Jimmy: I have something to ask you later so when you get to school meet me in the library, please?

Y/N: Oh yeah. For sure:)

-----------

You finally got to school and made your way to the library. That’s when you saw him and his beautiful brown haired, blue eyed self. God he's beautiful.

You came up from behind him and gave him a hug. “Hi Jimmy” you seen his smile come onto his face as he turned and wrapped his arms around you. “Hi Y/N” you always did love how he said your name.

“What's up? Why'd you call me over?” he began to blush a little. He didn't even know where to begin. “I-I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner tonight. O-or tomorrow or. I mean. Whatever-” you looked down to your feet and slightly laughed and interrupted him. “Tonight's fine.”

He smiled at you. God that smile. “Good. Um, pick you up at seven?” he seemed almost jittery. You could tell he was excited. “Yeah, works for me.” you bit your lip. And you went about the rest of your day.

-----------

What do I wear? How do I do my hair? Straighten it? Curl it? What does he like? Sexy or just cute? Cute. Definitely cute. Not trying to overdo it. But what if that's what he wants? Ohhh my god. Why can't I seem to figure this out? Maybe I should just cancel. Yeah. Yeah that works. Oh no. He seemed so happy for tonight. And so am I. Ugh.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts. You didn't know what to even do with yourself. The nausea settled in and you felt dizzy. You had a tendency of getting nervous. You considered getting help for it but then decided against it. Not like you really did need it anyway.

I GOT IT.

You finally managed to get the cutest outfit together for your dinner with Jim. You went with something simple. A white off the shoulder long sleeve top with blue denim jeans and a nice pair of nude high heels. You decided against just flat ironing your hair and curled it. You did just a basic neutral makeup trying to avoid drawing too much attention to yourself.

Okay this is simple. It's cute and not too flashy. It works. Right?

[Incoming text]

Jimmy: Hey, I'm outside. I didn't know if you wanted me coming in or anything

Y/N: No, come in don’t even worry about it:)

Jimmy: Okay:)

Not too long after you heard a knock on the door and quickly made your way downstairs and opened the door. He smiled and then it quickly faded and he looked at you in awe.

Oh god do I look that bad?

You cleared your throat in hope that he'd stop looking at you. “I'm sorry it's just-um. It's just that you look amazing” he stuttered a bit biting his lip. He wanted nothing more in that moment just to rip your clothes off right there and then but he held it together and he looked oh so divine. But I mean, didn't he always? “O-oh. Thank you” you said with a smile. “Shall we go?” “We shall” send with that, you left for your date.

When you two arrived to the restaurant he was a complete gentleman. He opened your door for you and helped you out, he helped you into your seat, and even gave you a little kiss on the cheek. For “good luck” he said and that made your heart melt.

You guys ordered dinner and ate.You guys talked about random things during your dinner. Ranging from how life sucks and learned more about his chaotic life story. It was sad. Then it lead into interesting conspiracies that couldn't be true, but you believed them anyway because, well, evidence did seem factual. As he paid the bill, you couldn't help but smile. The lighting in his eyes making them look bluer than usual. Phil Mason said the signature. You didn't blame him and his chaotic and disappointing life. I mean, how could you?

Soon after you both began to head off, yet you guys didn't want to start heading home. He took you to a park, not too far from the restaurant you guys had been eating at. He sat down on a bench and you sat next to him. “I don't want tonight to end” he sighed out as he rested his head on your shoulder. You couldn't really blame him. You wouldn't want to go home to that same life. You rested your head on his head and smiled. “Yeah I don't want tonight to end either”

Soon, for some odd reason, a wave of insecurity hit and you almost wondered why you were here. “Hey Jim” you say as you bring your head back up. He stayed on your shoulder and just hummed out “hmm.” You could tell he was tired. “Why did you ask me out to dinner tonight?” his head soon shooting up. “What do you mean why? Y/N, I like you” you smiled to yourself “I like you too Jim” you say eyes looking at his lips and trialing back to his eyes.

He notices but quickly looks down at his palms. “I had um also wanted to uh ask you something” he stuttered out a bit. He was nervous. The fact that he was nervous had you a bit scared in that very moment as well. “W-what did you want to ask?” you were a bit scared at nothing, but there could be a million things that could come out of his mouth.“

I um-”

That goddamn stuttering.

“Y/N, would you-”

“I was-”

You were anxious at this point

“JIM SPIT IT OUT!”

He chuckled underneath his breath. “Would you like to go to prom with me. A-As friends. Or I mean, as whatever you want. I mean that's even if you want to go-” you grabbed ahold of his face and kissed him. Although he was shocked at your at your sudden reaction, he kissed you back. You then pulled away. “Shut up.” you smiled out. He looked at you with bright blue eyes. “Something tells me that we aren't going as friends” you laugh a little. “Oh definitely not.”

He pulled you in for one more kiss and never had either of you been more happier.

-----------

“HONEY. JAMES IS HERE” your mom shouted as you came down the stairs. “Ew don't call him James, just call him Jimmy” you laugh a bit. You look at your boyfriend in his blue dress shirt that complimented his eyes completely. “You look-” you were at a loss for words “Wow” he smiled at you.

“Darling I do believe that that's my line, not yours” he said biting his lip while looking at you in your blue two piece dress. Blue. To match his ocean blue eyes, just like Leah said. You smile and look down at your feet. “Well thank you, baby” He came over and pecked you on the lips.

“Oh well aren't you two just adorable?” your mom smiles proudly. “Oh quick let me take a photo of you two please” she pushes you two in together. “Oh geez you don’t need a photo, mom” you try to pull Jim away but he grabs onto you. “No let her take a photo. I want to hold onto this memory forever.” You both smile as your mom takes her photo. He wanted a bunch of little cheesy one’s too. A photo of him kissing you, kissing your cheek, holding you bridal style, and just a little regular one to the two of you hugging and smiling.

You were so happy with him and he was so happy with you. These would be the times you would remember forever. When you and Jim arrived to prom, you two had all eyes on you. Though to be fair, who wouldn't look at Jim? “They're all looking at you” you whisper to Jim. “No, baby. They're all looking at you” he looks down at you. You start to feel flustered and then a slow song begins to play.

“Jimmy can we dance, please?” you look up him with a bright smile. He looks at you and can't help but give in to your smile. “Of course we can” he says as he takes your hand.” You two make your way out onto the dance floor. He slowly begins to glide you around with a big smile on his face. You can't help but notice the way his eyes gleam in the flashing lights. It made your knees weak and made you smile.

“What?” he says. “Mmm nothing” you hum out. He leans down a bit and gives you a deep and passionate kiss. “You're such a little weirdo” he chuckles to himself. “But I’m your little weirdo” you smile proudly. “And that you are, princess.”

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