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moonlightreal · 3 years

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This is the “author’s note” I found on the amazon pages for the pretty hardcover Night World books. My memory is that it was just there, the book-blurb at the top by the cover picture, was this.

Like a bonehead I just copied the text without grabbing a screencap or noting the date. The amazon page now has the publication date is December 2016 so this bit of optimism was just before Ms. Smith vanished. Of course we don’t know when it was written or whose idea it was. Was Strange Fate really finished or was someone just feeling hopeful?

NIGHT WORLD Dear Readers, It’s hard to tell you how much the re-release of the Night World books means to me. It has allowed me to come full circle, to complete a cycle that began with Secret Vampire. It has allowed me to finish Strange Fate, which grew into an epic that included roles for almost every Night World character. And Strange Fate allowed me to show the origins of the Night World, the apocalypse that threatens to destroy it, and even a possible future in which the evil side of the Night World prevails. I am often asked how I conceived the idea for the Night World series. It began when I wanted to write stand-alone novels that would combine horror and romance. But I wanted more: I wanted to do a series in which this Night World—a vast, secret world that exists within the everyday world—would slowly reveal itself to readers. That’s why the first book is called Secret Vampire: the inhabitants of the Night World, composed of vampires, shapeshifters, witches, and other supernatural creatures I wanted to invent, are hidden from humans. A vampire is necessarily a secret vampire … because of the laws. I also wanted to write about a new kind of forbidden love. That’s not easy—most good forbidden love topics were old by Shakespeare’s time. But with this series, I could create the possibility of forbidden love simply by saying that the laws of the Night World prohibit a Night Person from falling in love with a human. But I still needed one more ingredient. I needed the rise of the soulmate principle to actively force Night People to fall in love with humans, no matter how hard they fought against it. Voilà! Then it was just a matter of making up interesting characters and setting them loose in my head to see what they would do. I often begin like that: sitting in a quiet room and searching for a sparkle in my mind that could become my new heroine. Sometimes it’s easy and a whole character shimmers before me. Sometimes I only get the faintest firefly glimmer of a new girl, and I have to hold my breath and see if that glimmer will materialize into a three-dimensional person. Heroes and anti-heroes are easier. It’s just a matter of picking one that will be a true soulmate for my heroine. I have a whole collection of these characters in my mind, all trying to crash the party. And they’re usually bad boys. The settings and in-depth plot development are another layer of work. But often the characters just run off and do what they want, and I have trouble keeping up with their antics on my keyboard. One thing I always do is look carefully at my characters and plot from all angles to make sure I’m not plagiarizing a book or series that I may have read before. That’s just normal procedure for ethical authors: we make sure our stories aren’t too much like another story we might have read. Of course, there are many ideas that have been around since the Babylonian myths, and many characters that are archetypal. But, really, it’s almost impossible to take many things from the body of another author’s work—say, someone else’s character(s) or plot or story device—without actually intending to do so. I can’t imagine wanting to do that. I wish I could say every author felt the same. Poppy North is a character I examined very carefully. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t too much like Bonnie McCullough, another petite character of mine from The Vampire Diaries. I didn’t even want to plagiarize myself ! But Poppy convinced me that she was a tough little squirt who by high school had already planned out her future, which is very unlike Bonnie. Poppy was going to marry her mysterious friend James—she just hadn’t informed him yet. Also, unlike Bonnie, she had a fatal flaw in her small body. In Secret Vampire, I knew I was dealing with a serious issue: terminal cancer in a high school girl. So I did a lot of research before deciding on a type of cancer that would be truly inoperable and give Poppy only a month or two to live. I went to several hospitals to talk to nurses in oncology wards. I always brought toys for the hospitalized children, but the whole subject was so heartbreaking I was almost afraid to tackle it. Once I did, though, I found that Poppy was even stronger than I had imagined. In the book, she makes the only choice she can to go on living, and she never looks back. Poppy is one of my favorite girls, and she ushers in Ash Redfern, who quickly became one of my favorite bad boys. Ash has a murky past of womanizing and … well, more womanizing. Ash returns in Daughters of Darkness because he has been ordered by the leader of all vampires, Hunter Redfern, to bring his three runaway sisters back to their cloistered vampire island. But when Ash locates his sisters, he runs straight into the human stargazer Mary-Lynnette, and the sparks begin flying—literally. Mary-Lynnette is a character I made up when I was a kid, and I’m always surprised by how many people like her and Ash together. Mary-Lynnette spends most of the time expressing her feelings for Ash by kicking him in the shins, but their dialogues are some of my favorite passages in the whole series. Ash, in turn, escorts Quinn into the series. And Quinn (who does have a first name, though he rarely uses it) is one really scary guy. A vampire since 1639 A.D., Quinn is sharp, cold, humorless, and heartless. Unlike Ash, who is mainly guilty of an incredibly long series of one-night stands, Quinn enters the series as a human slave trader. That is, he provides vampires with young girls, and he doesn’t ask questions about what happens to the girls afterward. This led to a problem: How on earth was I going to redeem this villain enough to make him someone’s soulmate in The Chosen? I really sweated over that. My first task was to make Quinn more sympathetic. The best way to do it seemed to be by telling a bit of Quinn’s own tragic story: how he falls in love with sweet Dove Redfern, and how her vampire father decides to make Quinn his heir. Dove’s father is Hunter Redfern, one of the most important vampire leaders in Night World history. This is the same Hunter Redfern who, nearly half a millennium later, sends Ash to drag his sisters back home. The same Hunter Redfern who sends his daughter, Lily, after Jez in Huntress. The same Hunter Redfern who tries to turn Delos into a merciless killer in Black Dawn. But, as a boy, Quinn doesn’t know anything about the Night World, and he is deeply in love with gentle Dove. When Hunter makes him a vampire by force and then when Quinn can’t save Dove from being killed, Quinn’s heart freezes over. For four hundred years it accumulates ice—until he meets Rashel. That’s another favorite scene of mine: when Rashel, a dedicated vampire hunter since (guess who?) Hunter Redfern killed her mother, encounters Quinn. A group of Rashel’s fellow vampire slayers have captured Quinn and plan to torture him, and Rashel is left alone to guard him. Quinn, feeling old and tired despite his youthful appearance and great power, gives himself up for dead—and is a little glad to do so. Rashel, however, can’t stomach the idea of torture. When Rashel talks to this most-hated vampire and hears his story, she deliberately sets him free. And that astonishes him. But it’s the soulmate principle working its magic. I loved making two such strong-willed enemies succumb to the silver cord that connects them. I especially loved hearing Quinn warning Rashel not to let him go—and then protecting her when her comrades arrive back in time to see that she’s let him loose. I really loved writing about Quinn and Rashel’s soulmate sequences. As Rashel enters Quinn’s mind, she sees “thorny scary parts” but also “rainbow places that were aching to grow” and “other parts that seemed to quiver with light, desperate to be awakened.” She begins to think that people ask so little of themselves. If the mind of a slave trader can look like this, an ordinary person must have the power to become a saint. It is with this revelation (and much penance on Quinn’s part) that Quinn is redeemed. That’s the thread that binds all the novels together: redemption. The possibility of a second chance. Everyone has choices to make, but even the most evil of vampires can choose to atone and be redeemed. It may not necessarily stave off punishment in this world or the next, but redemption is possible. I’ve been asked who my favorite characters are, and the answer always changes because it depends on the book I’m writing. Right now my favorites are three characters from Strange Fate. As for my favorite couples in the published books? Morgead and Jez—I suppose. Who would find themselves at greater odds than a vampire gang leader and his onetime superior, a vampire who finds out she is half human? I learned some cool martial arts moves as a bonus for writing about them. Then there is Keller, one of my all-time favorite heroines, and Iliana, the beautiful Witch Child, and Galen, ruler of the shapeshifters: the love triangle in Witchlight. Keller starts out seeming brusque and businesslike, but the love of Galen and of the unselfish Iliana help to heal her inner wounds. And I can’t forget Thierry and Hannah, and Circle Daybreak. I created Circle Daybreak because the Night World witches had only two clans: Circle Twilight and Circle Midnight. Those, like Thea in Spellbinder, who belong to Circle Twilight are not-so-wicked witches (that is, they don’t want to exterminate all humans like the darkest witches, those who belong to Circle Midnight), but they are still wicked enough. So what was to be done with all these new soulmates, when Night World law said that they must be put to death? Someone had to make a place for them where they would be safe, and I decided it was Thierry, one of the oldest vampires, and Hannah, his Old Soul soulmate, who has lived hundreds of lifetimes without ever reaching the age of seventeen. They are the ones who revive Circle Daybreak, where humans and Night People can forget about past tragedies and concentrate on a brighter future together. Although Thierry is an old vampire, he isn’t the oldest vampire. There is one older, the one who Changed him. She provides another thread that binds the series: the pitiless Maya. Maya is the first vampire, the witch who finds the secret of eternal life—and chooses to use it for evil. But there will be plenty more about her, including a look at the young Maya, her sister Hellewise, and their mother, Hecate Witch-Queen, in the upcoming Strange Fate. And so now I’ve come full circle, back to Strange Fate. But I can’t finish until I add the other joy that the re-release of Night World has brought me. It’s brought me into contact with you by e-mail. Night World fans write so many intelligent, articulate, courteous, exciting e-mails! I love to get messages from “old” fans, who say my works “got them through high school.” Thank you for them! And messages from new fans, who say they have just read all my reissued books—and are impatient for more. Thank you! And the messages that simply demand: “When is Strange Fate coming out?” Thank you, too! With a full heart, all I can say is thank you, thank you, and thank you again! I never thought I would have a chance to write an open letter to all Night World fans, and I can only wish that you knew how grateful I am … for this second chance. Sincerely, (LJ Smith signature image) P.S. I love to get e-mail, letters, and messages. Visit me at ljanesmith.net!

#nightworld #ljsmith strangefate #strange fate #LJ Smith

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

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I Will Rise

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

You can take everything I have

You can break everything I am

Like I'm made of glass

Like I'm made of paper

Go on and try to tear me down

I will be rising from the ground

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Summary: With the next winter holiday things get to their lowest point. But rock bottom is always the place to start building up.

A/N: So this was supposed to be super angsty with no end in sight but ya know, I changed my mind. This is angsty don’t get me wrong, but this is also where choices are made and people are changed for the better or worse. Sidenote: I just ended a four year relationship yesterday and ya know. I’m great. Anyway. Love yall!! Let me know that you think as always!!

Draco and I stood at the Manor gates. Dark clouds rolled in, suffocating us. They threatened with snow, ice, and fury.

“It’s the Dark Magic,” Draco noted, his voice seemingly indifferent, taking my hand.

I nodded, sighing. Something was to be said about missing sunny days and warmth. Even in the dead of winter, this chill sat differently on our shoulders. Winter promised spring... this artic promised nothing but death.

Inside and unpacked, Draco and I shared a bit of tea in front of a warm fire. He was reading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe aloud, and despite my adoration of the book, I couldn’t seem to lose myself in the words as I once had. Even with the silkiness of Draco’s voice. I now had a deeper understanding for Narnians before the events of the book. An endless winter with only a small gossamer of hope to cling too.

“Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,

At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,

When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,

And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.”

The words mocked me. Draco seemed to pick up on my disinterest.

“Don’t tell me you don’t prefer the book any longer?” There was a soft teasing smile on his lips as he closed the book, setting it on his lap. It was the one I had given him almost a year ago.

“No, I do,” It was a sad sigh. “I just... do you think someone is out there for us? An Aslan to come and save us?” I hugged my knees.

“Well, you know as well as I do,” He took the same book and flipped further back before settling on a page that seemed to satisfy him.

"Dearest," said Aslan very gently, "you and your brother will never come back to Narnia."

"Oh, Aslan!!" said Edmund and Lucy both together in despairing voices.

"You are too old, children," said Aslan, "and you must begin to come close to your own world now."

"It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"

"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan. "Are — are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.

"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there."

A smile brushed my lips as he closed the book again.

“But do you think that was meant for us?” I laid my head on his shoulder.

“I think that it was meant to give hope,” Draco decided after a quiet moment, “Aslan, by any other name, would still be something to believe in,”

“Unless that name happens to be Harry Potter,” I chuckled, drawing a laugh from Draco. “And have you been reading my Shakespeare?”

“Maybe a bit,” A smile toyed at his lips.

“Romeo and Juliet though?” I rolled my eyes. “I told you, it wasn’t a good story to read presently,”

“I think you also told me that it was worth keeping the books that didn’t have a happy ending,” Draco set the book on the coffee table and pulled me into his hold.

“Do you think we’ll have one?” I asked softly. “A happy ending?” His face was hard to read as his eyes fixed on the burning fire.

“How can we with what we’re going to do?” The words echoed in my thoughts as we both sobered.

The plea for him to not do what he was asked of came rushing to my lips, but I held them there. I wouldn’t tell him. I had decided on that long ago. This was the one choice that he needed to figure out how to make on his own. I was torn myself. I wanted to tell him to stop, to help him make this choice, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to. But I could stay beside him... I prayed that it would be enough for him.

Even with the holiday upon us, the air was void of excitement and magic. The Manor was decorated immaculately even still. Tears stung my eyes, when thinking that this was the first Christmas I ever had without my mother, without baking or cooking or the music or movies. There was nothing to do in the kitchen with the house elves working and practically shoving me out of the room. There was nothing to clean. Nothing to tidy or move... It felt unnatural. Draco pulled me into his arms, giving me the comfort that I craved so desperately.

“Your mother is arriving soon,” He murmured softly. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I think so... we’ve been civil through writing. How bad could this possibly be?” My words were cynical but hopeful still. “Besides... at least it won’t be just the four of us. By comparison my mother will be a delight,”

“Bellatrix has agreed to be civil, and Snape always comes for Christmas. Or has before the last couple years at least. He’s my godfather, you know. He and my father were close when they were young,” Draco’s voice was strained. “But I suppose they will all be needles in a haystack,”

“It was right to invite the rest of...” I trailed off. “They’re alone too,”

“Always the Hufflepuff, are we?” He mused softly.

I hummed in acknowledgement. I was still wary about Bellatrix attending supper. Too many things had the chance of going poorly.

“You know we have to do this,” He read my thoughts.

“The perfect children. The perfect couple. The perfect soldiers.” I sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to go back to that night at the Ball. Or the month after...”

“It’s ironic,” Draco chuckled darkly. “That we now know ignorance is bliss,” I nodded at the doorbell chimed throughout the house.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,”

It was something quite different dining with just the Slytherins and dining with their parents as well. It wasn’t just I and Draco who were playing perfect children, but all of my friends, everyone I knew. All sapped of joy, of smiles, expression... under the scrutiny of their parents. Blaise, Vincent, Greg, Theo, and Pansy.

“How has schooling been?” My mother tried asking as the first course was served.

“Well—”

“Ugh,” Bellatrix scoffed. “Who can learn anything with that daft old fool as headmaster?”

“Bellatrix,” Narcissa warned gently.

“Yes, yes. Civil. As you wish,” She rolled her eyes and slouched, digging into what I assumed was quail.

Draco and I shared a look. Attempts for conversations halted after that.

Dinner passed and I barely tasted any of the surely rich foods that were placed before me. After the awkward affair, my mother asked to speak with me in private. Draco, Narcissa, and oddly enough, Snape eyed me warily.

“Of course,” I gave Draco one last look. He looked as if he were ready to pick me up and make a run for it, but he refrained.

I led her to the small rose garden that Draco had once led me to. It seemed sacrilegious to tread upon this secret haven, but it was a place that gave me comfort. Though it was covered in snow and the trees and bushes were bare, I still remembered the summer warmth the garden offered.

“You have surrounded yourself with quite a group people my dear,” Her voice strained out the words. “And that dress is lovely,”

“A gift from Narcissa,” A tight smile touched my lips.

“So, you’ve replaced me then?”

I turned, frowning at my mother.

“You really think that?” I was baffled.

“Well look at you! New dress, new shoes, new friends! You’re living and dining with a bunch of Death Eaters for Merlin’s sake!”

“Yes, because I had so much of a choice to abandon the people I love and come home and live with my mother who lied to me for fifteen years and manipulated me!” I watched as my sharp words silenced her.

“You could have come home any time,” It was a quiet notion.

“No, I couldn’t have,” I wrapped my arms around myself and took a deep breath. “I’m going inside,”

“Please, dear. It is Christmas,”

“Yes,” I turned to face her. “And I’d rather be inside with Draco, if you can understand that.”

“Draco,” It was nearly a sneer. “I have heard... rumors about him.”

“I really don’t think you have any right to say a word,” I said, my tone as ice.

“You’re blind. Your own love blinds you to who he really is. You’re going to get hurt,” There was an air of concern in her voice.

“No! I’ve spent years of my life terrified of letting people in because you’ve got it so deeply ingrained in me that I might get hurt! Well you were wrong about the world! And you were wrong about me!” I stalked up to her. “I have done things that you will never know! That you will never understand! I’m living through a war for god’s sake mom! And you’re here yelling at me about who I’m dating!?” I took a small step back, shaking my head. “This was a mistake...”

“Y/n, wait, please, you have to understand—”

“No mom! You... you don’t get to just waltz in here and ask me to understand! I don’t have to understand, and you really don’t get to give a damn after all you put me through! Don’t you think I want to have my mother here for me!? That it doesn’t kill me inside because I’ve never felt so alone in my life!? That everything I’ve known has been pulled from under me and while I’m trying to set myself somewhere new you just criticize me!? No! You just...”

“And what would your father say?”

I gaped at her, enraged.

“How dare you!?” I annunciated each word. “Dad would be damn proud of me! And he never would have let you do what you did to me! I am supposed to be your daughter! But I’m done.”

Without another word I stalked up to the house and inside, fuming. Draco caught me at the door, but I shrugged him off.

“Love,”

“No,” I snapped. “I need to cool down, just...” Wordlessly I headed upstairs before collapsing behind a random locked door, sobbing.

After a while, when my tears had subsided and my frame only shook minimally, I pulled myself up off the ground and stumbled over to a vanity. It must have been a guest room that I found myself in.

The girl looking back was a mess. Tear tracks stained with mascara ran down her cheeks and red lipstick was smudged out of place. Her hair was hanging haphazardly and out of order. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her lips etched into a permanent grimace.

There was a knock at the door.

“Go away, Draco,” I sniveled.

“Do I look like that blond-haired prat to you?” The door clicked closed softly as I saw Pansy’s reflection in the mirror.

“Pansy, please... I—”

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m not here to console you, not particularly,” She came up beside me and leaned against the vanity. “Everything’s really fucked up, huh?” Her voice was depressed as she looked down.

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I muttered.

“You know, I can’t tell my parents about Abby at all,” Her confession was small and weak. “She’s not a pureblood, and well, they’re not as accepting as her parents are about our relationship...”

I looked up at her, my eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out why she was telling me this now.

“We haven’t spoken all holiday,” This wasn’t the strong confident Pansy I was used to seeing, but rather a broken scared teenager. “She’s mad at me because I won’t tell my parents about her, and I... I can’t do it. I’m a coward,”

I let out a hopeless laugh and smiled at her.

“I just told my mother off and now I really think I’ve been disowned,” A dry humor coated my voice. “And I’m in love with the son of the man who killed my father,”

“Well shit girl,” Pansy laughed. “You make my problems seem so trivial,”

“Not my intention,” A smile met my lips. “And I’m really sorry about you and Abby... not saying that it’s anywhere near the same... but I’m aware of what it’s like to be scrutinized for my choice in partner.”

Pansy nodded and a silence fell between us.

“You’re going to run yourself thin, Y/n. Trying to be everything for everyone.” Her voice returned to its somber mood.

“I think I’ve past that point,” I muttered darkly.

“Then tell me, little Hufflepuff, who are you going to be?” There was a slight challenge in her eyes. “You don’t have parents watching over your every move, you don’t have the constant expectations.”

“I can’t just—”

“And why not?” She shot back.

“Because I have to protect Draco,” I breathed out. “Play the part and get through this,”

She eyed me; eyebrow raised but said nothing. “If that’s what you think,” She mused.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shot back.

“Well, the girl I met a couple years ago would stop at nothing to be herself even if it meant being teased and bullied by a couple Slytherins. The same girl who cut off all her hair and started to fight back. I just wondered what changed.”

I opened my mouth to refute her point but refrained. A lot had changed. Draco was a Death Eater now. We had a trial to get through alive or we would both die. I had to somehow manage not to get killed by his aunt preferably. I still had to pass my bloody N.E.W.T.s as if the rest wasn’t enough.

“Tell me, or don’t. But I care about Abby and Draco a lot. And now I’ve got this kid sister under my wing and I don’t want to see her drive herself into the ground like I have. This war is shit, but you... Y/n, you’re someone to believe in.”

I tutted out a laugh. “I’m a mess. Please don’t believe in me,”

“But that’s what makes you so valuable to all of us. Blaise, Theo, Vin, and Greg too. You gave us all a second chance. It doesn’t take much to lay down your life for a good man, but to forgive a bunch of villains?”

“You’re not villains,” I refuted.

“See, that there. That’s why we believe in you.” Pansy smiled. “Even through it all, you still are kind and believe in us,” She tucked my hair behind my ear. “Now let’s get you cleaned up, because I’m sure Draco is on the verge of breaking in here himself,”

I laughed and pulled her into a hug.

“Thanks Pans,”

_____________________________________

Draco paced outside the door as he heard your ragged sobs coming from within wishing nothing more than to go in there and hold you. But you had asked for space, so he tried to honor that. Draco jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Pansy?” he asked, relaxing a bit. “What—”

“I’ve got this lover boy,” She smiled and patted his shoulder.

“She doesn’t want to be bothered,” Draco defended, glowering.

“Maybe not by you, but I think she needs a sister about now, what do you think?” Pansy raised an eyebrow at him, and it reminded him of all the times that Pansy had been there to be a sister to him and he nodded, knowing that it might help you more that he could.

Draco leaned against the wall, next to the bedroom door, his eyes closed.

“Draco?”

He peaked an eye open to find his mother on the landing with him.

“Is she alright?” Soft concern colored his mother’s voice.

“I have no idea,” It was a ragged whisper. “I knew we shouldn’t’ have invited her mother. I knew it was a bad idea,”

Narcissa laid a hand on his shoulder and tilted his chin up so that his eyes reached hers.

“It was going to happen eventually, but maybe now she can get some closure from it,” His mother sighed. “I remember the night that Andy walked out... it was weeks before that last fight and I could see how much it drained her. And you know it’s been hurting her too,”

“Andy?”

“Your aunt, Andromeda.” Narcissa smiled sadly. “Married a muggle and was disowned... she was barely older than you,”

“Talking about our dear sister again?” Another voice snarked from behind them.

They both turned to see Bellatrix leaning against the stair banister.

“She was a traitor, Cissy,” The witch sneered. “Walked away from this family. Married a muggle,”

“I know,” Narcissa’s voice was strained. “But I thought perhaps it would give some insight to what Y/n is going through,”

“Are you sympathizing with our dear sister then? Are you a traitor sister mine?” Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” His mother snapped. “If anything, Y/n has just affirmed her loyalty by turning her back on her muggle loving family,”

Draco knew the words were said to appease Bellatrix, but still he flinched at the reality of them and what it looked like on the outside. He knew that was far from the truth. He knew that you had walked out on your mother because she had a problem with you being with him. It had nothing to do with blood status. But perhaps the wicked narrative would keep you safe.

Three pairs of eyes snapped up as the door opened. Pansy emerged first, a smile on her face and you followed behind. You were smiling and held your head high. You were also barefoot, your stilettos in hand. Draco smiled at the sight.

His aunt on the other hand.

“Improper if you ask me,” She muttered.

“I don’t think anyone did,” The smile on your face was tight and he had to refrain from laughing at the look of shock on Bellatrix’s face. “My apologies Narcissa, I do believe that I may have ruined your dinner party,”

“Think nothing of it my dear,” His mother smiled. “I’m just glad to see that you’re alright.”

Tucked by his side, Draco tried to read your facial expressions, but even he couldn’t pick anything up. What you showed him seemed real. A real smile and real confidence, but he doubted that it was really the case given the present circumstances. But perhaps it wasn’t far fetched after all.

Bellatrix glared at you, but you held no air of worry or fear. Instead it was almost as if you were challenging her. Which left him wondering what in Merlin’s name had Pansy talked to you about.

Draco kept a close eye on you all night, but you really did seem alright. Curled up under his arm on the sofa in the company of just your friends, you were almost at ease. He itched to know what had happened between you and Pansy, but there was never a moment alone with just the two of you.

The night wound down, and soon it was only you, him, and his mother left in the large house. The both of you had drifted to the sitting room that held the grand piano. Draco’s fingers danced along the ivory keys, remembering how last Christmas he had composed for the first time. Your song was still remembered under his fingertips as it became a part of mini concert.

Christmas morning came and there were few presents under the tree, most of them trivial. Christmas seemed trivial. He had gotten a pack of permanent markers from Abby with a note saying that you would know what to do with them. You had gotten a pair of diamond earrings from him—and his mother. You both agreed, however, not to get each other anything. It was a depressing notion, but there was simply nothing to say about the occasion.

That evening, you donned your cloak and smiled at him softly.

“I’m gonna go visit Papa,” Your voice was soft and subtle. “Would you like to join me?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He never expected for you to invite him to something like this. After the events of yesterday he didn’t feel worthy to go with you, let alone meet your father.

“It’s okay Draco, I can go alone,”

“No,” It was immediate. “You’re not going alone,”

Draco never thought that your father would be buried here. At Godric’s Hollow. He supposed it was a common place for wizards to be buried, but... he didn’t make the connection. There were others here as well and he could hear the faint hymns being sung at the church down the road. You and he were just cloaks in the crowd, two hoods visiting a loved one. You paused at a gravestone.

Walter Y/l/n

1956 — 1983

A Father and Husband

~Have Courage and Be Kind~

“Happy Christmas Papa,” You whispered softly, waving your wand, riding the gravestone of snow and frost. You sank to your knees, tears in your eyes and a smile on your lips. “I brought someone here to meet you,” Your fingertips brushed the stone. “This is Draco, Draco Malfoy. I know you probably don’t like the last name Papa, but... he is good,”

Tears welled in Draco’s eyes at the interaction. He stooped beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Hello,” His voice was tight. “You have a wonderful daughter,” A pause. “And though I cannot atone for my father’s mistakes, I will try. And I will be someone worthy of her affection and love,”

You laid your head on his shoulder, not saying anything, but rather enjoying the quiet night, the soft snow starting to fall. Drawing his wand, Draco conjured a small wreath of holly at the bed of the grave.

“He would be so proud of you,” Draco murmured. “As I am.”

“He would be proud of you too,” You looked up at him, snowflakes on your eyelashes. “We should go before the snow gets worse. I can feel it growing dangerous,”

Draco’s eyes darted around to the other mourners in dark colors that made only your silver cloak stand out when his eyes landed on a rather large focal statue. You followed his gaze and stood, standing.

“Do you think Harry has ever...?” The question was soft.

“I don’t think he knows it’s here,” Draco answer truthfully, his brows tugging together.

He led you down the rows of headstones until you were before Lily and James’ gave. It was sobering, seeing it like this. Draco knew the legends and stories, of course, but looking at the small bundle etched in the stone, cradled in Lily’s arms, it seemed almost too real. With your wand, you used the same spell and cleared the grave of frost and snow.

“As much of a prick that he is...” You trailed off. “I hope he’s having a good Christmas,”

Draco hummed in acknowledgement.

___________________________________

Narcissa greeted us at the door to the Manor. A warning in her eyes. The warning, proven to be in vain because nothing could prepare us for what was awaiting inside. The treacherous smile of Bellatrix greeted us, as she was flanked by two others, in hoods and masks—deeming them unidentifiable. Even though I had seen her the night before, her civility seemed to have vanished.

“The young prince returns, dear sister,” Bellatrix cooed. “But he has not been such a good young prince now has he?” She twirled her wand in her hand as Draco took a step in front of me, his own wand out.

“Bellatrix,” A steady recognizable voice called.

My eyes snapped to the right where Snape stood. His nonchalant demeanor almost blending in with the gloom that hung in the air.

“You know his fate, Bellatrix,” Snape did not attempt to stop her, but something held in his words accomplished the feat.

“Yes,” Her head cocked to one side as she drawled out the word. “But he is not above the Dark Lord’s law. And that goes for his harlot.”

“You will not speak to her like that,” Draco spat, growling.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. I could handle some name calling. I was just desperately trying to figure out Bellatrix’s game and why she had come back and why the hell Snape was here too.

“You know, you might have gotten away with it, little tramp, had the Ministry and that blood traitor Weasley stepped in and torn through the enchantments,” The purr fell from her lips. “And Cissy you should really know better than to leave me alone anywhere,”

Bellatrix waved her wand and I felt unseen hands grab my arms and drag me forward, to the center of the foyer, and then they were gone, causing me to stumble onto my knees. I glowered up at the witch, picking myself up and drawing my wand.

“Bellatrix!” This time it was Narcissa.

“Worry not little sister,” The witch stalked up to me, her wand tracing along the scar that resided under my shirt: from her knife the last time we had met. “She is in no harm... The Dark Lord has plans for her after all... But I am afraid that her possessions...”

My eyes went wide. I shoved the idea that the Dark lord had plans for me and finally figured out her game. The reason she was here.

My room in the manor. Filled with my muggle books, and records, and photos... Everything I had left from the family and home I no longer had.

“Yes, little pet.” Bellatrix snapped. “But I wanted to take this as a learning opportunity. That the Dark Lord will expect nothing less than perfection—dedication.”

“Bellatrix, please—” I started, only for my voice to be taken by a flick of her wand.

“You will be silent, little toad,” She snapped.

I turned, and saw Draco standing with his mother, pure fury written on his face as Narcissa held him back. As much as I yearned for his touch and comfort, I knew that this had to be played very carefully for us to survive. His eyes met mine.

“Come, come,” The deranged witched cooed almost happily.

Draco wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me along beside him. I looked up at him with frantic questions in my eyes, but he just shook his head. Though I couldn't hear the others behind us, I was sure they were there. Standing at the door of what was once my room, I saw the scattered books, torn pages, and absolute destruction that was in the room’s wake. Tears welled in my eyes at the sight. Draco’s and Narcissa’s arms around me were the only thing that held me back from running forward to save something—anything.

“Draco,” Bellatrix motioned him forward. Rigidly he let me go and took a step forward.

“The Dark Lord and every Death Eater believes that Purebloods are superior. That Muggles are filth and should not be considered human. And yet you allow such scum in your house. Muggle scum.” Bellatrix turned to Draco. “Destroy them. Prove your loyalty, little prince.”

Narcissa’s arms became a vice grip, holding me up instead of holding me back. I ducked into her shoulder, not being able to bring myself to watch what I knew had to be done.

“Confringo,”

Time passed. I wasn’t sure how much time. Maybe seconds... maybe an hour. Everything froze around me. My lung burned for oxygen. My eyes saw nothing. There was nothing left for me to see. Nothing but destruction in wake.

________________________________

“Draco give her mind time to protect itself,” Snape’s calm voice chided, watching the young boy pace outside the room you were in, nursed by Narcissa.

“No.” He snapped. “She—Fuck she’s going to hate me! Do you realize what I’ve just done!” He nearly screeched. “I’ve just destroyed everything—”

“And rightfully so!” Snape hissed. “Do you think the Dark Lord would be as forgiving as Bellatrix? If he came here and saw such things?” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “If it weren’t for the Dark Lord’s plans for her, she’d be under a gravestone by now.”

“Plans for her!?” Draco rushed his teacher, wand out. “No. He doesn’t touch her.” The threat was malicious and icy.

“It is out of your hands,” Snape merely brushed Draco’s wand away. “Has today not been enough for you to understand that there is no other choice for you here?”

Draco took a cool step back. “Crystal.”

The door opened and two pairs of eyes snapped and fell upon a weary Narcissa.

“She is awake,” Her voice wavered slightly. Narcissa walked forward and placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “She’s asking for you,”

Ice ran through Draco’s veins as dread filled his chest. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was goodbye. Maybe this finally broke you. It’s what he dreaded the most, but knew it was coming.

You were sitting up, on the edge of the bed, your gaze cast to the floor.

“Y/n, please, you have to—”

You held your hand up and shook your head.

“Books... can be bought again. So, can records...”

“But they—I...”

“Draco,” You called, squeezing your eyes shut. “I know.” Your voice was curt. “I know, but right now, if I dwell on that...”

He nodded and looked down.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Tears welled in his eyes as he sat beside. “Please forgive me,”

“You had no choice,” Your voice was small. “They’re just... things.” Your eyes still didn’t open. “They’re trying to break us. Break me. The Dark Lord has plans for me,” You almost scoffed. “Like I’m his pawn. Like I belong to him!” You stood pacing the room. “Well you know what? He can watch me bleed, he can watch me burn, but I will not give in!” Your voice was vehement. “I—won’t—break,”

Draco gaped at you, utterly shocked. This was... new. This was different. This was also the first time that he had ever seen you so adamantly speak against the Dark Lord with such fervor. A kind of courage that he wished he possessed. A determination that made him believe that maybe, if nothing else, you would get through this. It gave him hope that maybe he would too.

You sat beside him again and took a deep breath, running a hand through your hair.

“How are you feeling?” You voice was gentle and soft.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” A small smile touched his lips.

A shrug fell from your shoulders and your hand ran up and along his left arm. The action alone eased the ache of the magic etched into his skin.

“I hate what I am,” He confessed through tears. “I hate what I’ve done and what I have to do. I... I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Sobs wracked his frame. “And I don’t know how you’re getting through this so well because I’m just breaking. I’m broken.”

Your arms wrapped around him, head resting on his shoulder.

“And that’s okay,” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Go ahead and break. You’ve been strong too long, Draco.” Your hand ran through his hair.

He clung to you desperately, sobbing into your shoulder, hiding there. And he did break. He broke on you. He came apart at the seams in your hands and you held him together.

“I—I don’t w-want to kill him,” He sniveled. “W-why haven’t you tried to stop me?” He started to hiccup from the lack of oxygen.

You took his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

“Deep breath,” You instructed and took an exaggerated breath waiting for him to follow suit. It was shaky and ragged, but Draco managed a couple. “And because I wanted you to figure that out on your own. I wanted you to make that choice,” Your thumb brushed away his tears. “And I’m so proud of you for making it,”

He nodded and collapsed back into your arms a sense of relief flooding through him despite the threats that closed in from all sides.

__________________________________

“M-miss?”

It was early January when the house-elf came to me, clutching something in her hands tightly. Cassie, I thought was her name.

“Yes?” I knelt down, a soft demeanor to the action.

“I—I am—” She started to hyperventilate, tears in her wide eyes.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” I soothed softly. “I won’t hurt you, nor tell you to hurt yourself. You’re safe in my presence,” I held my hands out, a slow action, showing the cowering house elf that they were empty and held no threat.

“I—I have been a b-bad house elf,” She cried. “I s-stole from M-miss,”

I frown furrowed my brows. I couldn’t think of anything that I owned that was worth stealing. A depressing thought tacked on that I didn’t own anything worthwhile even to me at the moment.

“It’s alright,” I smiled something sad.

The house elf held out what she was clinging too.

My photo album, the gift from Abby last Christmas. Tears sprung in my eyes as I hastily snatched the book from the house elf’s grasp.

“P-p-please do n-n-not be cross with C-C-Cassie,” The elf sobbed. “S-she likes l-l-looking at the p-p-pictures of h-h-happy mom-ments.”

“Oh, I’m not mad,” I quickly rushed out. “Not even in the slightest,” Tears streamed down my face. “You saved this,” I set the album down and drew the elf into a hug that she tried to scramble from but eventually relaxed, sobbing into my shoulder. “Thank you, thank you.” I cried.

“P-P-Please do not tell Master D-Draco,” She sniveled. “Y-Y-You have a-a-always been k-k- kind to us e-e-e-elves, p-p-please,”

“Y/n?” Draco’s voice was concerned. “Tell me what?” Cassie squawked and hid behind me, cowering.

“M-m-m-master D-Draco,” The elf stammered apologies.

“What’s going on?” Draco was reserved, a mask of calm.

“Cassie, she saved my album.” I ran my fingers over the leather cover. “She took it from my room I guess... said she liked to look at the photos,”

Shock and relief flitted across Draco’s face in waves. He knelt down beside me and brought the book into his hands tears in his eyes.

“Thank you,” He spoke softly to the house elf. “Thank you for saving what I couldn’t,”

“Draco,” I chided softly, reaching out for him. “It wasn’t your fault,”

“Regardless if it was or not,” He turned his attention back to the house elf. “You have my deepest gratitude,”

I flipped to a worn page by my own hand, to a day last year in the snow of four friends laughing and smiling. It wasn’t much, but I supposed it was something to believe in.

Chapter 9

Masterlist

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18@whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522@zombiesnips-blog @savingdraco@welcometomyworldwithoutrules@akari180 @slytherin-emerald@memalfoy-spidey@queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe@spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @dietkiwi@katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgur@belcvayelena@moviesbooksandfandoms @howdycharlie@xtrashmouthxtozierx@cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte@braelynn-j @jiggllyy@honeymarvel @darcypottah@atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss@lottie289 @boredashaeck@beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao@deadlynyghtshayde@iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes@anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle@dragonsandbread @okaydraco@the-queen-of-hell-things@cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter@angelotakunerd08 @thisisahugemistake@fanficsigottaread@gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge@cleopatera@ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl@peters-legos@quillsareforwriting @ghostlytoadalmondhairdo@wollymalfoy@lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @sdicapriox@slothgirl22@peachesandpinks @monimillion @hufflautia @livize75@annie-mcl@riathearora @live-like-luna @justathoughtfulangel@coconutdawn@skteaiy @wannabeskinny-thinspo@naughtygranger @queenofmankind @dragonsandbread @abundantxadorations @moony-artnstuff @myforeveryoungblog @and-then-a-girl-with-luv @1-800-luvsick @pandas-rice-field @strawberriesonsummer @jjustsomerandomgirl @mrvlfangirl3190 @loverbbgirlsblog @in-slytherin-we-trust @emmaa-t @introvertedrae @infinity1o1 @stoleurmomsvan @echpr @sunkissed-hufflepuff @dekulover @marshmallowtraver @cereuselle

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popchoc · 2 years

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Tagged by @englishstrawbie

Rules: Answer the following 11 questions and then ask 11 of your own and tag people.

1. What was a highlight of 2021?

The 40 year anniversary concert of the dutch band De Dijk. I’ve seen them many times, but this concert - the first one for the band as well as for the thousands in the audience, since it was literally the first big event allowed in over a year! - was just... indescribable.

2. If you won the lottery, what is the first thing you would buy?

Hmm maybe a crazy amount of art supplies? I started painting this year (or well, I’m trying) but good paint is annoyingly expensive.

3. What is your most treasured possession? (It can’t be a person or an animal!)

My 55L backpack. Got it almost 20 years ago and I’m using it till this very day. We’ve been all over the world together, so it comes with a lot of memories.

4. If you could live in any country in the world, where would you live and why?

I’ve been in 61 countries, and I loved most of them, but I only have 1 home. Which is right here. (But I wouldn’t mind going back to Galapagos for a bit longer! ;) )

5. What’s your go-to movie when you’re feeling sad?

I don’t think I have any. Rent maybe?

6. What’s top of your bucket list?

To see the Northern Lights. I want to stay in one of those glass igloos, but I’m waiting for someone hot to join me.

7. If you could talk to your 16-year-old self, what would you say to them?

Open your f*cking eyes, you moron, you’re not as straight as you think you are!

8. What talent do you wish you had?

I would appreciate some musical talent. I have zero.

9. Where does your tumblr username come from?

From my YT username, which comes from a bag of candy that just happened to lie in front of me when I needed a name. Least interesting story ever - lol.

10. What’s a song from your childhood that brings back a happy memory?

I have many, but my sister and I just happened to talk about Eros Ramazzotti’s “Se Bastasse Una Canzone” the other day, and the way we totally rocked that one (as we believed!), which definitely brought a huge smile to my face!

11. What’s a fun fact about you?

I had to do theater in school and me and my friends decided to join some Shakespeare piece so at least we could play some highly dramatic death scene. Unfortunately we were given the parts of the only three characters that made it to the very end.

Tagging @keepondreamingx @chuckzacharylevi @remarkingonit

01. How are you?

02. What was the first album or single you bought?

03. How would your friends describe you?

04. First celebrity crush?

05. What’s the best gift you got?

06. What is something you want to begin learning?

07. What is a comfort movie/show for you?

08. Describe your dream home.

09. What are three places you want to travel?

10. What superpower do you want?

11. Tell me a memory that makes you smile.

#tag game #thanks for the tag!

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the-great-imagines-of-1812 · 4 years

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Mystery of Love~ A Jo March x fem!Reader imagine

This is for @my-morning-straightjacket , to hold her over until i publish the next part to ‘To Love Another’ :)

Song Used: Mystery of Love, by Sufjan Stevens (lyrics in italics)

Summary: Jo and Reader’s relationship, from beginning to end.

A/N: fluff, ANGST, then fluff again. happy ending. also, i highly recommend you listen to the song while reading for more effect. :)

~~~~~~

Oh, to see without my eyes The first time that you kissed me

First Meeting: December 25, 1861.

You remember the day you met Josephine March so very well. Being a childhood friend of Laurie’s who moved to France to further your education in art, you visited your best friend as often as you could, often several times a year. He and his grandfather always welcomed you with open arms; his tutor less, as you often had a habit from distracting him from his studies to go to the music hall or some party.

Ever sine you had moved across the sea, away from your family, Laurie always kept up his letters. He had practically begged you to come visit for Christmas, staying a couple of weeks through the new year.

You, of course, said yes. You were long overdue to visit the Laurence household, and your own family. It wasn’t your fault; this semester at the University had been a tough one, and you were glad to have a two month’s break.

You arrived in Concord, Massachusetts, on the mid morning hours of Christmas Eve. Laurie had practically run to you, sweeping you into his arms and grabbing your luggage off the port. Both of you spent the entire day chattering, catching up on one another’s lives.

Boundless by the time I cried I built your walls around me

After you spent hours by the fire place talking about your semester at the University, it was Laurie’s turn to speak. He told you all about the March family next door, and the loveliest of the sisters, Jo March. By the way he spoke of her, he was practically in love. You could see it in his eyes.

You will always be able to tell by someone’s eyes.

The next morning, you talked away with Laurie’s grandfather, telling him all about Paris.

It all happened to fast. One minute you were eating, and the next you were carrying your breakfast to the March Family’s house, since they had given up theirs to the poor Mrs. Hummel and her children. The family greeted you all as soon as you entered.

You stood in the corner, awkwardly, since you didn’t now anyone, with the exception of Laurie and his grandfather. That was until a blonde, bright-blue-eyed girl approached you, to introduce herself.

She held out her hand to you, and she was oh so welcoming and her voice sounded like home. You wanted to hear it for the rest of your life.

“I’m Y/N Andrews, it’s nice to meet you. You must be Jo. Laurie’s told me all about you.”

White noise, what an awful sound Fumbling by Rogue River

She grasped your hand firmly. “Oh, it so nice to meet you. I hope Laurie has said all good things. Is your family by any chance the publishing Andrews of New York?” she questioned.

You nodded. “It’s my Uncle’s business.”

She kept her gaze on you. She thought you were beautiful. “Interesting. How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“I live and study in France, furthering my education in the art field. But Laurie’s a childhood friend of mine.”

“How intriguing! A woman with a career?”

You blushed and nodded. “Indeed. I quite enjoy it.”

The conversation between you two flowed so easily, and soon enough she introduced you to the rest of her family. You and Amy got along great, with you telling her all about your art career. You and Meg talked about your favorite dresses. And Beth was the most quiet, but shyly showed you a song on her piano.

Feel my feet above the ground Hand of God, deliver me

You had to go back to France a few weeks into January, in order o go back for the new semester. But before you had left, you and Jo had exchanged addresses, and had sent so many letters back and forth. She would send you original poems and stories, all about - you. It was strange and new, and beautiful. She always made you blush. You couldn’t wait to see her again.

That May, you had finished your time at the university and planned to move back to Concord to stay with your family, until you got your own job and were able to move out.

Therefore, you and Jo were able to spend much more time together. Oh, you remember the day she kissed you in so much detail. She took you to a field of lavender, and confessed to you as you both were sitting down, enjoying the sunshine.

She covered your hands with her own and you brought your face close to hers. You heart was beating so fast. She traced a gentle hand along your face.

“Jo I-”

“Shh. Relax, my love. Let me try this, why don’t you?”

You nodded, and she slowly leaned in, capturing your lips with her own. It was sweet. Having someone care for you in such a pleasant way; your soul almost left your body.

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me The first time that you touched me Oh, will wonders ever cease? Blessed be the mystery of love

You had never been happier in the time you shared with Jo. The sun seemed to shine just for you, and the stars at night, too. You grew closer to her sisters, too. You and Meg gossiped often. You would teach Amy an art class, free of charge. Beth was like the little sister you never had; she would often lay on you as you read her a story. Sometimes Shakespeare, sometimes Charlotte Bronte.

Oh, but the time spent with Jo. You two would sit in the couch in the attic when no one was home, with your head upon her chest, and every once in a while, she kissed your forehead lovingly. After the story was done, she would bring you into a deep kiss, and the sunshine shined on both of you.

You wished for moments like these forever.

Lord, I no longer believe Drowned in living waters Cursed by the love that I received From my brother's daughter

Among the both of you, there was talk about the future, a future where you two could live openly, free of judgement.

“I’d marry you, you know.” said Jo one day as she kissed the shell of your ear. Both of you were cuddled up in front of the fire place at your house.

“But, Jo-”

She kissed your nose. “Ah ah ah. No buts. We’ll be together under the eyes of the lord, he’ll bring us into his grace for eternity. We’ll live in happiness.”

“Sounds perfect to me, love.”

Like Hephaestion, who died Alexander's lover Now my riverbed has dried Shall I find no other?

But you were both so naive. Thinking that the world was made for you. That the sun would shine for the pair of you.

“Mother, you can’t possibly do this to me. Father, tell her!”

“No, Franklin. Don’t speak. You will marry Alexander Cores by next week. No more discussions.”

You sobbed. “I wanted to have a career!”

“You will. As a housewife. Back in Spain.”

“Helene, you can’t possibly expect her to-”

“She’ll learn to be a proper lady, Frank. No more discussions. You’ll be married next week and straight off to Spain the day after.”

You ran straight out the door, no coat or anything. You had to go see Jo. You burst into the March home, with no regard for anything. She was talking with her sisters and fell into her lap, crying.

“Y/N! What’s wrong?” Amy said, putting a hand on your back.

“They’re-They’re-” you said, your cries cutting you off.

“It’s alright, take your time.” Said Meg. You could feel Beth wrap her arms around your waist. No words needed to be said from her.

Once you had gathered yourself up. You were able to explain. “They- my parents are forcing me to marry.” you felt tears come up in your eyes again. “And he’s taking me off to Spain!”

Jo felt her heart clench and drop in her stomach. She couldn’t lose you, not like this. She leaned down to kiss the side of your head. “Isn't there anything you can do? There must be something!”

“No there isn’t. The wedding is scheduled for next week!”

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me I'm running like a plover Now I'm prone to misery The birthmark on your shoulder reminds me How much sorrow can I take? Blackbird on my shoulder And what difference does it make When this love is over?

It was the night before the wedding. The fireplace in your room crackled and popped as you stared at the room. There were no thoughts in your head. You had given up.

You heard a knocking on the window. You got up and opened it. Jo.

And just like that, you had burst into tears. Her face dropped at this, seeing your unhappiness. “Oh my love. Oh my sweet. It’s going to be alright.”

You trembled in her arms. “No it’s not! I’ll be away from you and never see you again! And I’ll be in pain, and it will be horrible!”

“One last night.”

“Jo, what?”

She fully crawled through the window, now in front of you. “Let me spend one last night with you. We’ll make this our forever. I’ll be gone by morning.”

You had never nodded quicker. You brought Jo into your bed, letting her wrap her arms around you. “Oh, love of my life. Rest.”

She kissed the tears running down your face, and you soon fell unconscious.

This would be your forever, after all.

Shall I sleep within your bed? River of unhappiness

You had been in Spain for almost seven years now. You missed Jo more than you could fathom. Sure, there were letters exchanged back back and forth nearly every day, but it was nothing like kissing her or laying your head on her chest and having her read to you while basking in the sunshine and enjoying the privacy of the attic.

In other words, you were miserable.

And as for Alexander- you really tried with him. You tried to love him, but you couldn’t. She was always on your mind.

As for Jo, she could possibly be worse. She fell into a depression, and she couldn’t explain to anyone why, with fear of judgement. Believe it or not, she rote some of her best work during this time.

All artists have to go through something tragic to create their life’s work.

Hold your hands upon my head Till I breathe my last breath

It was then that you prayed for a miracle. It was as if the Good Lord has heard your cry and decided it was time to align the stars for you two.

Alexander was caught in an embezzlement fraud from work, and was charged and put into prison for 6 years. His lawyers advised that you divorce him.

And so you did. Packed your bags, and booked boat tickets for Concord.

It was then that you received the letter from Marmee. She detailed of Beth’s sickness, an advised you to come, in case anything should happen. You were more than happy to permanently stay in Massachusetts.

You arrived early on a cold January afternoon in 1869. On the same port that Laurie picked you up on so many years ago. It now seemed dull.

But you were here to stay, no matter how glum it may be.

You quickly made your way to the March house, without a single thought. You set your bags down as you came in, Meg’s twins coming to greet you. “Auntie!”

“Hello, my lovelies! Where’s your mother?”

“Hello, Y/N” Meg said, with a said with a sad smile, peeking out from behind the wall. You set the twins down and went over to her.

“She’s passed, Y/N. Beth. She’s gone.” You could see the tears running down her face, the ones she was trying to hide.

You brought her into a hug. “It’s going to be alright, Meg. I’ve got you.”

She cried into your shoulder before puling away. “Jo’s upstairs, you know. Just be careful. She’s fragile.”

You blushed. “How’d you know?”

She gave you a wink as she wiped away the last of her tears. “I always know. You can tell by the way you looked at one another.”

With that, you gathered your skirts and made your way up the stairs. Nearly tripping over the many skirts. Jo always said you wore too much. When you reached the top floor, there she was.

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me The last time that you touched me

She was hunched over Beth’s bed, crying silently. She didn’t notice you come into the room. You nearly broke down at the sight of her.

“J-Jo?”

Her head quickly shot up, eyes fixed on you. Your dress looked expensive; Alexander must have been well off. But you were the same beautiful girl she met way back.

She stumbled as she walked over to you. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She collapsed at your feet, grabbing at your skirts as you got to her level.

“Please don’t leave again! I’ve been in such terrible pain! Please!”

You stroked her hair, her head now being in your lap.

“I’m here to stay, love. I’m not leaving.”

You were here for good.

Oh, will wonders ever cease?

A year later, you and Jo were on a carriage ride to church on a warm, spring Sunday morning.

A secret marriage. You guys’ little secret.

You took a black wedding band out of dress pocket, putting it on her finger. “With this ring, I take thee, Josephine March, as my loving wife. I promise to love and cherish you for all eternity. In sickness and in health, as long as be both shall live.”

You whispered, so the driver couldn’t hear you. “With this ring, I take thee, Y/N Andrews, as my loving wife. I promise to love and cherish you, for all eternity; in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

She pulled you into a deep kiss, her hands on your neck and yours on her waist. As you pulled up to the church she helped you out the carriage, and you two gave each other a look as you went inside the building.

That day, you took communion together, and considered each other married in secret.

Death was the only thing that parted you, as you passed away from tuberculosis in 1900. She always held your hand, even when you passed.

She passed away two years later, in 1902. Her last wish was to be buried with a photograph of you.

You two met again in heaven and you were both young again, with the rest of the March family. Laurie and his grandfather, too.

On the 26th of June, 2015, gay marriage was legalized in all 50 states under the Obama administration. In all states, people of all sexualities would be able to marry their partner, without discrimination.

You and Jo rejoiced from above, along with everyone else. All that you wished was that it happened sooner.

But you celebrated with joy along with everyone down in the land of the living.

Blessed be the mystery of love.

~~~~~~

A/N: I LOVED this. feedback is appreciated! :)

- Talya

#little women #little women x reader #little women x you #little women x y/n #jo march #jo march x reader #jo march x you #jo march x fem! reader #jo march x y/n

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pyxisblue · 4 years

Text

I’m Home

This is what could’ve been if Sakuya never had a chance at his dream.

|| A3!: Sakuya Sakuma // Angst: accident, family seclusion

Growing up in different households, even if they’re his relatives, Sakuya couldn’t help but feel...unwanted. For so long, he never felt he was ever part of the families he lived with despite the fact that they have some blood relations.

But family is not about being connected by blood. Sakuya learned that the hard way.

Nobody truly cared or even tried to form a deep connection with him; hence, he was passed to any household who’d take him up for the sake of family obligation.

This time, he’s with an aunt who couldn’t even subtly express her disdain for having another mouth to feed in her house, even though she lived alone.

He never asked nor begged anyone to take him under their wing, and if he’s to be asked, he’d rather be left to himself to fend for his own. But his relatives wouldn’t even allow that, saying something about being held responsible if he’s found dying on the streets.

The cherry-haired young man stepped out of the house just as his aunt went on a rant about how useless he is and how he should be thankful for whatever she’s putting up with him. This day, he resolved to find a part-time job, thinking it’s the only way she wouldn’t treat him as a burden at least.

As he strolled down the street of Veludo Way to check posters of job openings, he happened to pass by a dilapidated theater building.

“Mka” it said, with some letters missing in its big signage above the entrance.

A torn paper of what seemed to be an audition poster was posted on its board outside. Sakuya gave it a downhearted glance. He imagined what the building could’ve looked like back then if he ever saw it before its ruin. Maybe he would’ve pursued his dream of being a stage actor if fate has brought him here earlier. But that’s only wishful thinking now. It’s no use hoping for it when obviously, the theater already met its end.

He was about to step away when he noticed the door was ajar. Curiosity got the best of him, and maybe his desire to see an actual theater had taken over, that he found himself stepping inside even though it spelled trouble.

The young man’s eyes grew wide as he indulged in the view of the theater hall. Despite looking old and rundown outside, the hall looked well-kept even with a few cracks on the walls and the worn-out fabric of the seats. Overall, it seemed like it can still be operational.

Why would anyone abandon the place?

“Hey, kid. You’re not supposed to be here.” Sakuya almost jumped out of where he was standing when a voice suddenly echoed behind him. A blonde man wearing a pair of eyeglasses with a black coat was staring at him with threat.

That should be the cue to leave. But somehow, Sakuya didn’t want to.

“Leave now. We’ll be tearing this place apart in a few minutes. We don’t want any casualty in the process.”

He should just nod, leave, and forever forget this place as he move on with his life. He has no business being here anyway. Besides, he already got a look of the place he longed to see even in his dreams.

But why?

Why did his heart feel heavy at the thought of stepping out of here just before it’s about to be torn down?

This is the first time he saw the place.

Why did it feel like he knew it forever?

“What are you still doing there? Get out of here, or I’ll drag you out myself,” the man in black started to get really scary as his patience grew thin. But Sakuya had this determination to stay, something he couldn’t explain.

“The show must go on.” There was a whisper in the back of his mind. Wherever it came from, at this moment, he wanted to hold on to it because if he didn’t, he felt like he would lose something important, even though he didn’t know what.

“Uhm. Can I stay for just a few minutes?” He said timidly, still couldn’t point a finger as to what it is he was feeling.

“Huh?” This time, the man threw him a menacing glare. He was about to stomp his way towards him when Sakuya blurted out...

“It was my dream to become an actor.”

The older man halted on his tracks with surprise on his face. But it wasn’t long until it was replaced with a grim expression.

“Well, you’re many years late, kid. Maybe if you got here before it went down, then you might’ve had a chance,” the blonde man spoke in disdain, the regret in his voice sounding more of his own than for the younger one.

Sakuya could see the sadness in the man’s purple eyes through his glasses. He got the feeling that this person didn’t want to let this theater go either, but for some reason, he was the one to tear it down. His heart felt heavier.

“I’m sorry. I just want to experience standing on the stage even if it’s just for a short time,” he gave his best sunny smile to him. “I promise after that, I’ll leave.”

The blonde guy frowned at him for a few minutes then turned on his heel before saying, “Ten minutes. If you’re not out before that, I’ll tear this building down with you in it.”

Relief washed over the young man. He smiled to himself, feeling a bit giddy to have the place even for just another few minutes. He stepped down to the stage area with haste.

Before climbing up, he took in the view of the stage from the audience seat. Scenes of what it could look like during plays came to him, and somehow, they were plays with him in it.

He downplayed the thoughts as part of his wishful thinking, imagining it would’ve been like that if he joined a troupe.

Unable to contain his excitement, he helped himself up and stood at the center of the stage. With the dusty side curtain tied, he could see the full view of what actors see during their plays.

An overwhelming feeling of sadness came over him. Tears ran down his face as a ghost of a full-house audience replaced the empty worn-out seats.

“This must’ve what it felt like to act on this stage,” he thought to himself.

But it wasn’t just that. There was also this longing, this feeling of missing something he always had, lingering in his heart. Sakuya couldn’t figure out why the place felt so familiar.

Did his desires and wishes manifest as a reality within him that his heart couldn’t distinguish whether they’re real or not?

He tried wiping the tears away, but the stream just couldn’t stop.

“Let’s go on a journey together, Julius!” An image of him in a royal suit with a red cape appeared beside him, looking at someone he couldn’t see. “We can ditch this cramped town and travel the world together!” This version of him carried the lines with confidence and emotions, acting a little bit clumsy but trained.

Sakuya’s lips formed another smile. It was nice to see his self living the dream even if it’s just a daydream. But it bothered him that he wasn’t even familiar with this play he was imagining.

Julius? What character is Julius?

“Romeo, you’ve got the brawn, and I’ve got the brain,” a different voice resounded from the opposite side, and it scared Sakuya when he found no one there. But it didn’t stop, “If we put our heads together, we can do anything.”

Romeo? Was this some story based on Romeo and Juliet?

But who was this other person in his make-believe play? He gulped as he felt a little creeped out. Was this place haunted?

“Romeo? Romeo Montague?” There was an evident surprise in this unknown voice. A man in another royal suit with a blue cape appeared on his left, a person he’d never seen before.

“Forsake your house and name, Julius! Because we have even grander dream to share!”

As he thought, this was based on Shakespeare’s infamous play. The lines were a bit familiar, but he didn’t know what this Julius character was. Was he coming up with random story as he imagine himself in the stage?

“I can’t. I can’t forsake my family,” the guy in blue spoke with a convincing sadness.

Sakuya couldn’t take his eyes off the scenes unfolding right before him. It was like his imagination took off on its own and made an entire play to show him.

He could see himself interacting and exchanging lines with people he hadn’t met. This black-haired guy in blue seemed to be a co-lead. There was also this brown-haired one who acted as Mercutio, his supposed childhood friend, then, a different blonde man acting as Tybalt, brother of the other lead. A priest also appeared, someone who looked like a foreigner.

Clueless as to what was really happening, he watched as the play went on like he wasn’t on the stage. They sometimes went through him like he was the invisible one. It also occurred to him that somehow, Juliet’s character was turned into Julius and that the story was a different take of the popular classic.

His mind still couldn’t process what was going on, whether this was just a dream or a borderline illusion, when another play begun. This time, he was wearing a cat costume and was talking to the same guy in blue who is now called Alex.

Was this Alice in Wonderland but with a male protagonist?

The scenes seemed to fast-forward as everything moved in thrice the speed of time. Eventually, another set of faces entered, none he could recognize, and somehow, he saw himself watching in the backstage area with glee.

The speed of events went another notch that he couldn’t keep up anymore. They played as if they were his memories, playing in hasty flashbacks.

Terrified of the peculiar phenomenon, he unconsciously stepped back from it, wanting to get away, until he found himself falling from the stage.

But instead of meeting the ground, he fell into an abyss of darkness.

It was an endless pit of pitch black. Sakuya thought this must be the end of him. This nightmare must be him finally dying under the rubbles of the theater being destroyed after his time was up without him realizing.

As he was being pulled down to whoever-knows-where, flashing scenes appeared on his sides, showing moments of a life he never had: him dragging the same guy he was with in the play to school; him saying “I’m home” with a wide smile as he was welcomed with a lot of people smiling back to him, telling him “Welcome Home”; him reading a script in a practice room with other people exchanging lines with him; him talking to three other guys in a living room like they were discussing something important; and there was him, talking to a woman who looked at him with pride and fondness.

They were faces that felt so close to his heart, but he still couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

It was like he was with them forever, and not with the relatives that never wanted him.

It was like, with these unfamiliar strangers... he was at home.

Home.

It’s a word someone can describe as a place where family is.

But in his case, ‘family’ was not even what he has right now.

There was a pang in his chest as the scenes of this other life continuously played around him. He was falling into this loop of memories he knew he didn’t have but showed how he was a big part of.

The pain in his heart had made his tears ran again.

The thought of not having the memory of being in them made his heart drop faster than he was into this never-ending hole.

An unexplainable emptiness spread within him. A desire of having these illusionary moments become real bloomed in his heart.

He wished and hoped they were all real...

That in the real life, he has a family to return to... a home.

His eyes shut closed as he tried to whisper a silent prayer...

A prayer that was answered as he opened his eyes.

When he lifted his heavy eyelids, his vision opened to a white ceiling. Everything was still blurry, and he couldn’t seem to move his body. He could hear a repeating loud “teet” sound somewhere, but his senses were still disoriented. An oxygen mask was covering his nose and mouth which made his heavy breathing easier.

“What happened?” was what he wanted to ask, but no one was around to answer.

He tried to rack his brain to get a clue. However, he could only remember the part where he was falling into a black hole. The trail of dried tears on his cheeks was evidence of the nightmare, but it told no tale of how he ended up motionless in bed.

The door swung open, revealing one of the persons he saw in those flashing memories. She was struck with surprise and halted in her place, still holding the door knob.

“S-Sakuya-kun. You’re awake!”

The brown-haired woman approached him with haste. He felt the warmth of her hands through his as tears started forming in her eyes.

“I thought...” Her words were followed with a quiet sob, his hand held to her forehead.

Another person came in, seemingly in a rush after hearing her exclaim. It was the same man in eyeglasses who told him to leave the theater in his dreams.

“Sakyo-san, he’s awake,” she said smiling while her tears continued to stream.

His expression was far from the same threatening one Sakuya remembered. This person has a relieved smile that it almost seemed he’s about to cry as well when he approached the woman by the bedside.

“Stop crying now. You’re going to scare him,” he said in a soft tone, patting her back gently.

“It’s just that... I’m happy,” she said after wiping the last of her tears. A wide smile formed in her face in contrast of her swollen eyes, “Welcome back, Sakuya-kun.”

Despite his difficulty to move, he used all his might to open his lips and said, “I’m home... director.”

And it was in that moment when he really felt he’s back at home, where he belong.

After that, the people he met in his surreal dream appeared in his hospital room with food, gifts, and objects that would keep him occupied.

His troupemates were the first and came the others on the succeeding days. Izumi made it her role to be his guardian and was always staying in the room to take care of his needs. Sometimes, Sakyo, or Sakoda, came in so that the director could rest. Tsuzuru often dropped by from work to see how he was recovering. Citron was always telling him adventurous stories like he used to. Chikage continued their daily coin toss. Itaru introduced him some games he can play for whenever he’s bored. Masumi didn’t usually come by due to his busy university life, but when he did, he brought him books. He even gave his troupe leader a headset to use, so he can listen to music as he waited for the day when he’s finally discharged.

Even though everyone showed how happy they were that he was finally awake, it didn’t slip past him that they were completely devastated when they found out he was in an accident. It was a whole three months for them, waiting and hoping he would come out of his comatose state. Summer, Autumn, and Winter plays went by and everyone, especially his troupe members, were dreading they had to do a Spring play where he won’t be able to appear.

The thought of them having a play without him made Sakuya feel like he was pulled back to his nightmare, to the world where he didn’t join the troupe and witnessed the Mankai Theater’s end, to a life where he didn’t have anywhere to belong.

It gave him an anxious feeling of losing the place where he finally found home. This reality he woke up to was very pleasant: he’s living his dream as an actor, he’s part of a company he can call his family, and the place where everybody is waiting for him to return to is what he could call home. But to lose all of these...

He stared at his hand, sitting on the white bed as the passing raindrops casted shadows over it.

It still felt surreal for him, that he’s here, and the fear of waking up to another reality came along with it.

What if he wakes up again and he finds himself back in that life without all of these precious people?

“Sakuya-kun?” Izumi’s voice brought him back to his senses, and an automatic smile appeared on his face in an attempt to not make her worry, but the director didn’t miss the sad look he had, “Is something bothering you?”

He stared at his hand again, afraid he’d start disappearing if this was another illusionary dream, and then looked back at her concerned face.

The young man started pouring his heart out, telling her about his nightmare and his anxieties. The director sat beside him and listened attentively.

“It must be silly of me, but I feel like everything could disappear in the next second,” the dark sky outside the window seemed to also loom over his heart.

“It’s not silly. You know, that’s how we felt when we found out about the accident,” his head whipped to her direction, but her eyes were already set on the depressing scene beyond the window, “It felt like we took your presence for granted.”

Sakuya could feel her words heavy with regret. He wanted to tell her how he felt loved and cared for with them, but he wanted to hear more of what she had to say.

“We were used to having you around, smiling brightly, and working hard like you always do. But when the days passed by and you weren’t around because you weren’t waking up, we couldn’t help but recall the days when you were. We didn’t know until then that we could lose someone that easily in the next second. Everyone tried to go on normally, but none of us couldn’t hide the worries and fears we had if ever you...” Her voice cracked, and her fists clenched over her lap with frustration.

If she was his aunt or one of his relatives, she wouldn’t feel this way. They wouldn’t even glance his way if he ever died. To them, it would be a relief of burden from their shoulders.

“Thank you, director.” Sakuya wore his usually bright smile which caught Izumi by surprised. It was the smile they all missed to see.

“No. Thank you, Sakuya-kun, for coming back to us.”

“Of course I came back! You are my family, after all,” the happiness he felt spread to the director, chasing all the fears she had. Relief came like a calming breeze to embrace her heart, reminding her that finally, Sakuya was back and well.

With a light heart, Sakuya counted the days until he was finally back to the dorm. On that day, when they arrived, Sakyo parked the car while Izumi accompanied him to get inside.

Once he stepped in the door, there was a loud pop in the darkness and suddenly, streamers flew in the air as the lights were turned back on. Everyone was there in the entrance to shout, “Welcome home, Sakuya!”

The scene made him tear up. He had this overwhelming emotion with the warmth of welcome spreading through his chest.

“Ah. This is what family is,” he told himself as he looked at the smiles on the faces of the people who are all part of his family.

Before anyone starts to worry, he rushed to wipe his tears with his long sleeve. Then, he met them with a beaming smile and proudly said, “I’m home!”

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

I thought of this while I was listening to Avril Lavigne’s Innocence and Taylor Swift’s Innocent. Both reminded me of Sakuya. This was supposed to be just angst, but I don’t want a tragic end for the boy who deserved everything. ;_;

I’m glad I was able to turn it around.

Also, I used this as an entry to #a3enfirst event facilitated by the Twt account @a3anniversary, with the concept “found family”.

Hope you enjoy~

#a3! sakuya #sakuya sakuma #a3 fanfiction #a3 angst #a3!#a3 #a3enfirst #found family

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themangledsans0508 · 4 years

Text

Pick-up Lines

My friend @traumatatic has given me permission to write another story based on their wonderful comics, check them out!: https://traumatatic.tumblr.com/post/170904809853/happy-valentines-2018-boiiiiii-pick-up-lines-are

Tweek waited outside Craig’s house. The sun was just rising over the mountains, bathing the land in a gentle light. He frequently looked over his shoulder out of habit. The bird’s songs comforted him slightly, helping him keep a grip on reality. He focused on the bird’s serenade, so much so that he failed to hear a door open behind him.

He tried to identify the birds. Chickadee, Blue Jay, Robin-

“Help!” Craig’s voice snapped Tweek out of his thought train. His head whipped around in a panic, looking for the threat. All he saw was Craig standing with a smirk on his face. He took a few steps towards him before turning dramatically and falling.

Tweek instinctively moved to catch him, one of his arms hooking around his shoulder and the other around his waist. His eyes filled with concern. He opened his mouth to talk.

“I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up.” Craig’s eyes smiled at him, unlike Tweek’s own unamused ones. He frowned at him.

“Craig, you scared the shit out of me. I thought something was wrong” he scolded. Craig’s smile never faltered.

“You forgive me, don’t you?” Tweek sighed.

“Yes, of course I do. Now get up before I drop you,” he half-joked. Craig straightened up, moving his arm to be around Tweek’s shoulders.

“Fine then, let’s get going before we’re late for school.” He started walking, Tweek falling into step with him quickly.

Tweek didn’t exactly know why he felt safer at Craig’s house than he did his own, but it was a feeling he enjoyed. Sitting next to his partner, watching Red Racer as Craig flipped through images on his camera’s memory card.

Click, click, click.

A steady sound. Tweek wondered just how many pictures Craig had on that card. It was a lot, and he was fairly sure after watching him tab through a fair amount that a lot of them were of him, and of those were taken while he wasn’t paying attention.

Craig’s eyes darted from the camera to him. He smiled and leaned towards him.

“Are you a camera?” he patted the aforementioned object that was hanging off a strap around his neck. He rested his elbow on the armrest beside him, his eyes focusing on the wall over there.

His photo collection decorated the wall. Six pictures, his favourites he had taken. One was a close up of stripe, his eyes full of curiosity as he approached, all captured in a single frame. Another of his family, his mother and father smiling while Trica and Craig frowned. He was sure that if it hadn’t been Craig’s picture they would all be frowning just because that was their family and they all seldom smiled.

Well, he used to rarely smile. Now he smiled often, or at least often in the time he spent with Tweek. That of course, was the time they spent together, which almost always made him happy.

The last four pictures all had something in common. Tweek was in all four, One by himself, where he was laughing and smiling. He remembered when Craig took that picture. They had been sitting in the park, babysitting Trica and Craig refused to stop cracking jokes. Tweek now figured it was not just because he was feeling silly, but because he wanted to capture Tweek’s laugh in a photo. He had to respect his determination, seeing as Tweek was normally rather camera shy.

Two more were of the pair together, both smiling, and quite frankly looking like an old married couple. In one they were looking forward and actually holding hands off-camera. In the other, their foreheads were pressed together, Tweek’s eye’s closed while Craig’s were open.

The last one was of Tweek and Trica because Craig wanted to capture “the sweet and the sour” and Trica had only agreed because she “wanted to be able to prove that she had known her future brother-in-law when they were kids,” which had gotten her whacked upside the head by Craig.

Tweek inspected the pictures, trying to see what on Earth Craig could be talking about. He couldn’t see anything that he would have in common with a photo collection.

“Argh- what?”

“Because every time I look at you,” he waved his hand towards the collection, “I smile.” Tweek’s cheeks flushed and he put a hand to his cheek.

“Craig, come on, you’re such a dork,” he giggled.

“You love it.”

Tweek’s fingers gracefully moved on the cool smooth keys as he played out a melody. His eyes remained glued on the sheet music in front of him that he had written. He didn’t have long to practice, the talent show was only a few hours away.

Craig, who was supposed to be helping, was doing quite the opposite. He kept tapping the piano, throwing off Tweek’s rhythm. That wasn’t it either, he had draped himself over the back of the piano with his hand hanging over Tweek’s papers. He had quoted three Shakespeare lines over and over and tried to convince Tweek to “paint him like one of his French Craigs,” for whatever that meant.

When those didn’t work, he instead opted to sit next to him and pull him into his lap, then to pepper kisses all over his face and neck. His hair tickled Tweek and he had to put all his effort into focusing on the piano and not on his beloved boyfriend.

Craig finally elected to simply lean against the piano and watch in silence.

For about five minutes.

Then he got that mischievous glint in his eyes, the one that Tweek knew meant he was in trouble.

“I hope it’s no tremble,” he said, “but I’d like to be with you.”

Tweek’s hands flew to the sides of his head and he groaned, slamming his elbows on the keys making a loud clash of sour notes.

“Flirting can wait. The talent show is- nggh- in a few hours Craig!” Tweek scolded. Craig shrugged.

“You’re too pretty. I can’t help myself.” Tweek sighed, defeated.

“Later, loverboy. I have to make up for last time’s show.”

Tweek worked smoothly and efficiently, carefully cutting the carrot under his hand into even slices. His typical shaking gone for the time being, which he was thankful for under the circumstances. He was going to have to cut them even smaller later, but not yet.

Craig was right next to him, stirring the batter for their carrot cake. The coffee shop needed more desserts and Craig had refused to let Tweek make them all by himself. He wasn’t all that into baking, but he was into anything if he did it with Tweek.

Well, that’s what Clyde told Tweek. Craig simply said he didn’t feel like going home yet.

Tweek could sense Craig getting bored, mostly by the fact that he kept hitting their bodies together in between Tweek’s chops. He was very touchy, which Tweek would have never guessed before.

He wasn’t complaining though.

Craig stopped stirring and if Tweek hadn’t been paying attention to his actions he would have caught Craig staring at him. He hit his spoon to the bottom of the mix, watching the batter push out of the way. He glanced at Tweek again and saw him about halfway done a carrot, and on the upswing of the latest slice. He playfully pressed his body against him.

“If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber.” He flipped his spoon back, flinging some of the batter at the wall.

“Craig, stop,” Tweek giggled. He couldn’t even pretend to be mad. He liked when Craig showed affection, and the fact he was the only person who got to see this side of him.

“I can’t. I have zero impulse control. And even if I did, I wouldn’t want to.”

“It’s right up here,” Craig pointed out, basically dragging Tweek up the mountain. Dusk was setting on their sleepy mountain town on the favourite day of February. Craig had refused to say much about the valentines day surprise, only that it would be special. Now they were climbing up a hill near Stark’s pond, Tweek wearing a backpack and Craig scrambling like a goat.

Tweek’s bag wasn’t heavy, but hiking in a sweatshirt instead of his favorite button-up was kind of restricting, and he was sweating too. Craig was wearing his usual outfit but didn’t seem to be hot at all, maybe cold with how fast he was moving.

Craig finally stopped on a ridge, taking Tweek’s hand and helping him up.

“Here it is.” Craig folded his hands behind his back, looking rather sheepish like he was afraid Tweek wouldn’t like the scene before him.

There was a teal blanket spread out on the ground, with another aquamarine blanket off to the side, presumably in case it got colder than it already was. In the centre was a bundle of roses.

Tweek took a few steps forward, reaching out and gently grabbing the red flowers.

“So, um, do you like it? I mean, I’m not good at this whole dating thing.” Craig rubbed the back of his head, shuffling his feet. Tweek shook his head.

“No, no. Craig, I love it,” Tweek murmured, kneeling down onto the soft fabric. He motioned for Craig to sit next to him, who readily complied. Tweek took his bag off his back and pulled out a bouquet of daffodils, handing them over to Craig.

“I wanted to get you something since I knew you’d get me something. You did last year and the year before. But I knew you didn’t really want anything so I just got you flowers. If you don’t like them I can return them-”

“Tweek, they’re perfect.” Craig kissed his forehead. They sat for hours, talking about things that made them laugh. They watched the sky melt from blue to intertwining shades of red, pink, and purple and saw the flurry of stars litter the sky along with the thin smile of the crescent moon.

Craig leaned back slightly. One of his arms crossed behind Tweek’s while he brought his attention to the stars.

“Right there you can see the big dipper right next to Polaris and the little dipper connected to it.”

“Polaris?”

“The North Star,” Craig explained, “They’re part of bigger constellations that are a lot harder to see. Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, which actually translate directly from Latin as greater bear and lesser bear. They’re part of the Greek myth about Callisto and her son Arcas. We’ll probably learn about it in school soon.”

“How much do you know about space?” Tweek asked.

“More than any teacher at our school,” he boasted. Tweek rolled his eyes.

“Maybe you should teach instead.”

“Trust me, if I could this town we be a hundred times smarter.” Craig pointed up to another pair of constellations. “Right there to the right of Polaris are Cassiopeia and Cepheus, king and queen respectively. Another long Greek story, I can tell you it sometime if you’d like, just not right now. There are other big constellations I want to show you right now though.”

“I’d love to hear it sometime. Maybe another night out like this.” Craig blushed slightly.

“You’re very eager. Definitely a night sometime soon. Okay, back on track. Right there weaving between the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper is Draco, which means the dragon or literally the long serpent in Latin-”

“You know a lot of Latin.”

“Only when it has to do with space. Anyway, Draco is made up of Thuban, Rastaban, and Eltanin.” Craig noticed Tweek’s slightly confused look.

“More stars. It has like, three or four myths about it. If we turn around there should be about five more constellations.” Craig laid on his back, looking behind them. “There’s Orion, the hunter. He’s easy to tell from the three bright stars on his belt. He’s up above Sirius, and the right side of his tunic is marked by Rigel and his shoulder is Betelgeuse. He was a great hunter in Greek mythology, son a Poseidon. Then he got stung by a scorpion and fucking died.” Tweek laughed.

“Wow, that’s sad.”

“I know, right? The lesson is he got killed by a scorpion because he boasted too much but there’s debate about that.”

“Scientists and Astronomers are obsessed with Greek mythology. Even you,” Tweek teased. Craig felt his cheeks heat up.

“Well, it’s cool. And I didn’t name all the stars.” Craig tugged Tweek down next to him so that he would see the view from Craig’s angle.

“How much Greek mythology do you know?” Tweek questioned.

“A lot I guess. Here’s another. Right there connected to Sirius is Canis Major and then to the left and up from that one is Canis Minor, and they were said to have been Orion’s loyal dogs, which is why the three connect almost in a triangle. The Pleadieds are over there, they’re the seven daughters of a nymph Pleione and the Titan Atlas. The last constellation that’s easy to see this time of year is Gemini, the twins, east of Orion’s belt. Their names are Castor and Pollux, which are also the names of the stars that make up their heads. They were said to be twin brothers and one was the son of Zeus but not the other? I don’t know how that works. But during the Trojan war, Castor was killed and Pollux begged his dad to take away his immortality so he could be with his brother and instead Zeus made them constellations.”

“That’s really sweet, actually. Brothers that were best friends. You and Trica could learn a thing or two from them.” Craig clicked his tongue as Tweek giggled quietly.

“Nah, I’d rather be put in the sky with you. Fuck Trica.” Craig pushed himself up to appreciate the swirling dance of the cosmos. Tweek copied his movements, his gaze following Craig’s.

“We have to do this again sometime. It’s beautiful and peaceful,” Tweek breathed, taking in the smell of the outdoors. Craig nodded in agreement.

“If I had a star for every time you brightened my day,” Craig reached his hand up in what looked like an attempt to grab the stars “I’d be holding a galaxy.”

Tweek used one hand to grab Craig’s and his other to pull the strings on Craig’s chullo hat towards him. He cupped Craig’s cheek with one hand and gently kissed him.

“I’m already holding a galaxy.”

66 notes · View notes

freddiesaysalright · 4 years

Text

Tale as Old as Time - Chapter 4

Rami!Prince Adam x Reader

Summary: A prince cursed. A young woman aching for adventure. The classic tale of seeing beauty within.

Word Count: 5.5k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @xviiarez, @rogerina-owns-me, @brianssixpence, @mirkwoodshewolf, @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye, @queenmylovely, @queen-paladin If you’d like to be added, let me know! There’s only one chapter left!

A/N: Time for the most famous part of the story!

Warning(s): None!

Moodboard

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 here we go!!!

In the morning, Rami was true to his word and he retrieved you at nine. Then, you walked together to the garden. He told you that he spent every morning in this place because it always put his mind at ease. That made you question even more.

“Why do they mean so much to you?” you asked. “The roses.”

He reached out for one and delicately touched the petals with the pad of his paw.

“My mother planted them,” he said.

“Your mother?”

He nodded. “She worked hard at maintaining them because roses were her favorite flowers. She was a bit of a romantic.”

You smiled. “She sounds wonderful.”

“I’m sure your mother is equally wonderful,” he replied.

You looked away sadly and paused, remembering what you could of your own mother.

“She passed away, actually,” you said. “When I was still a little girl.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What happened to her?”

“Pregnancy complications,” you told him. “My little brother didn’t survive either.”

“That’s horrible,” he said. “I see now why you’re so close to your father.”

“I see now why him taking a rose upset you so much,” you said. “If he had known, he would never have -”

He held up a hand to stop you. “Don’t. I...it’s done now.”

You nodded.

You walked together a little further.

“Do you like gardening, Y/N?” Rami asked.

“Oh, yes,” you told him. “I started last year after reading about it. I like to grow things I can turn into something else.”

“So, food?”

“Yes,” you said. “I’ve really enjoyed helping Daisy out.”

“Daisy is a kind soul,” he said. “She’s been a joy to this castle.”

“She told me how you saved her,” you admitted. “It was so...compassionate. It surprised me.”

“Yes, I...I’ve been very bitter about my fate, and I never wanted to burden anyone else with it,” he said. “But Daisy resonated with me.”

“Well, what about the servants that remained after your parents died?” you asked.

“I tried to dismiss them, but they refused,” he explained. “Mrs. Carson insisted I needed looking after since I was still so young.”

“It’s a testament to you that they’re so loyal,” you said.

He looked away bashfully and you smiled to yourself.

“Tell me about you,” he said, facing you again. “About your life in the village.”

“The trouble with talking about my life in the village is that I barely had one,” you said with a sigh. “Every day was the same. Go to town for the day’s needs, come home and fix breakfast, get Papa to take his medicine and see if he needs help with his new invention. Then, spend the afternoon reading.”

“Mrs. Carson did tell me you love books,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah. Ever since I was a child, I’ve longed for adventure. To have something magical and unexpected happen. To see far off places. Books were my primary form of travel.”

You both chuckled.

“My mother loved to read,” Rami said. “She always had something on hand. And she read to me a lot. My father wanted me trained in more sporting things like riding and archery, but mother insisted on my studies as well.”

“She sounds like a wise woman,” you replied. “And a bit like my mother.”

“It’s a shame they never met,” he said sadly.

“They probably would have been great friends,” you agreed.

A beat passed. The wind blew through the garden, making you shiver. It was a crisp autumn day, but winter would arrive before you knew it.

“Let’s go in,” Rami suggested. “I’ll have Mrs. Carson get a fire going.”

“That sounds lovely,” you said, pulling your shawl tighter around your shoulders.

“There’s something I’d like to show you first,” he said.

You raised a suspicious eyebrow at him as he offered you his paw. Smirking, you took it. He led you inside and toward the dining room. It was too soon for lunch, so your curiosity was piqued.

“Where are we going?” you wondered.

“You’ll see,” Rami replied mischievously. “It’s a surprise!”

You giggled and continued to follow him. You were going around a corner when he suddenly stopped.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed.

“Why?” you returned.

“Just do it!” he insisted with a grin.

You shook your head and obeyed. Rami took a moment to admire your face as you stood there. The sunlight pooling through the window struck it just right and for a moment, it appeared you were glowing.

“Well?” you questioned. “Are we going to continue?”

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”

He took your hand again, and he began to slowly lead you down the hall. You couldn’t be sure how much further you traveled with your eyes closed, but it seemed only a few seconds passed before he stopped you again.

He dropped your hand, and you resisted the urge to crack open an eyelid and peek at what he was doing. You squeezed your eyes further shut instead. You heard a metallic click and the rattling of a chain. Then, the creak of rusty door hinges.

“Rami?”

“Just a few more steps, Y/N,” he replied, guiding you forward.

You knew you had entered another room because the smells changed. It was a bit musty, but there was the distinct scent of parchment and leather.

Even with your eyes closed, you felt the room brighten as some curtains were pushed back and the sun began to warm your skin. A smile began to part your lips.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” you asked eagerly.

“Just one more second,” he told you.

You heard his footsteps come up behind you and his paws fell gently to your shoulders.

“Okay,” he said. “Open.”

You opened your eyes, squinting at first at the brightness, and then looked around. Your mouth fell open.

There were books everywhere, on every wall from floor to ceiling. And the ceiling was as tall as a cathedral. Sliding ladders covered whatever height one might need, but there were also staircases up about halfway, with a path going all the way around the room. It was as appealing to you as a Christmas feast, and you couldn’t wait to sink your teeth in.

“Rami, I - I’m speechless!” you cried. “I’ve never seen so many books!”

“This is our library,” he said, a pleased smile on his face. “But I figured it could be your library, if you like it.”

“I love it!” you exclaimed. “You’re really giving it to me?!”

“Of course!” he said. “Friends give each other gifts!”

“Oh, but I could never return the favor!” you said. “This is….Rami, this is the sweetest gift I have ever received. I can’t thank you enough.”

“That smile is all the thanks I need,” he replied. “Besides, it’s I who should be thanking you.”

“What for?” you asked.

“Life was so dark for me before you came here,” he said. He glanced out the window and then back at you. “You brought me sunshine, Y/N.”

You beamed. That made you feel warm and fuzzy from your head to your toes.

“Can we have lunch in here today?” you requested. “Please?”

The look on your face made him realize in that moment that he could never deny you anything. You owned him.

“Whatever you like,” he assured you. “I’ll let Mrs. Carson know.”

You began exploring the shelves and Rami told you the books he’d read, so you pulled a few of those first.

“After I read them, we can talk about them,” you said.

“We can try,” he chuckled. “I haven’t read in so long…”

“We can read it together then,” you said. “And jog your memory.”

“That’s perfect,” he agreed.

Thomas came up and got a fire started in the fireplace. Then Mrs. Carson and Daisy brought up your lunch within the next hour. Daisy was also amazed by the room, since - like you - she had never seen it before.

“Wow!” she gasped. “This must be every book in the world!”

You smiled. “Do you like books, Daisy?”

“I dunno,” she said. “I never learned to read.”

You blinked. “What?”

“No one ever taught me,” she explained. “I learned how to cook and sew and speak, but never reading or writing.”

“Would you like to learn?” you offered. “I can teach you.”

She grinned. “Oh, yes please!” She looked nervously at Rami. “Is that alright, sir? I’ll still do all the cooking, it won’t interfe-”

He held up a hand to stop her. “Of course, Daisy. Take all the time you need.”

“We’ll have our first lesson tonight, after dinner,” you said.

She giggled. “I’m looking forward to it!”

She practically skipped out of the room. Rami looked over at you.

“That was a kind offer,” he said.

“It’s important for people to know how to read, especially women,” you replied.

“I agree,” he said.

You smiled at him. “So, what should we read together first? Shakespeare?”

“Goodness, no,” Rami said. “He’s dull.”

“Shakespeare?” you questioned. “Dull?”

“Yes!” he insisted. “Let’s start over here…”

In the coming weeks, you made excellent use of the library. Every morning, after your walk, you settled in for tea and reading. You made things exciting by reading aloud and acting out whatever you could. Mostly, you liked hearing Rami laugh.

In the afternoons, he would take some time to himself, and retreat to the west wing. You remained in the library. You decided to do some research into curses, hoping to find some way to break the one on Rami.

Unfortunately, the queen’s collection had little information on such matters. The books about magic mostly warned against its use and the ones who practiced it. Most solutions to magical incidents were unhelpful. You needed a concrete way to break this spell. But it seemed that Rami’s case was unique. You could find no other record of a similar curse and how it was broken.

After one afternoon of difficult research, you heaved a frustrated sigh and pushed the book away from you. Now that you were spending so much time with Rami, you pitied him all the more for his situation. In fact, you rather liked him. If you were his sunshine, he was your moonlight - soothing and peaceful, with a touch of mystery.

With another defeated sigh, you picked up the book and returned it to the shelf. You got the same hopeless feeling you had when you first arrived at the castle, only it wasn’t for yourself. Rami was a prisoner in this cursed body. And there was no key in sight.

Tears began to well up in your eyes at the injustice of it. You sniffled, but were unable to stop them from falling down your cheeks. Even the warmth of a crackling fire couldn’t soothe your aching heart.

You looked out the window. Snow was falling gently from the sky, adding onto the already thick blanket on the ground. The snowman you and Rami had built in the courtyard looked rather lonely, but then you watched as Rami appeared and walked over to it. You smiled to yourself when he put a hat and scarf on the head. At the same time, it broke your heart.

Rami actually had such a tenderness to him. He deserved to be a man again.

A soft knock on the door diverted your attention. Daisy stood in the doorway.

“Y/N?” she asked, brow furrowing. “Are you alright?”

You wiped your face and nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Just getting sentimental, that’s all. Are you ready for our lesson?”

She brightened and nodded. You sat together beside the window to begin. Daisy was learning fast, but there was still a long way to go. You never realized just how important it was to learn early in life. Though, Daisy told you few girls in her village ever learned to read. Only the rich ones.

It made you grateful for your home. Your town had its issues, but you were able to attend school and choose your own way. That was nice. The thought also made you miss your home terribly.

You and Daisy studied for about an hour when Mrs. Carson came to get her to start dinner. You could tell Daisy was disappointed that her lessons couldn’t be longer, but she never complained. You were just putting the last book away when you heard a hard and sudden thunk against the glass of the window.

Startled, you examined it. Snow was splattered over the glass. You looked out and saw Rami standing several yards away, tossing another snowball up and down in front of him. You opened the window.

“Is that a challenge?” you called out.

“Only if you’re not chicken!” he returned.

You snatched your cloak off the back of your chair and wrapped it around you. Since the library was on the first floor, you climbed right out into the yard. Immediately, you knelt down and packed some snow into a ball.

“You’re on,” you said.

You hurled the snowball directly at him. He turned his back and it exploded across his cape as he laughed. You couldn’t waste any time, so you crouched again to make another. Rami launched the one in his hand, but you ducked, so it collided with the stone of the castle walls.

Mrs. Carson and Daisy returned to the library. Daisy decided she wanted to try something new in the kitchen and test her reading ability by consulting a cookbook for dinner. They were coming to ask you where to find one. They were surprised to find you absent from the room, even though they could hear your voice nearby. Then Mrs. Carson spotted the open window.

Both women went and looked out of it. There you were, down in the snow, wrestling with Rami. Both you and the prince had collapsed into a fit of giggles.

“Well, things have changed between them two!” Daisy laughed.

“Yes, Daisy,” Mrs. Carson agreed. “I think...there may be something there that wasn’t there before.”

“What’s that then?” Daisy wondered.

Mrs. Carson watched as you brushed snowflakes out of the hair around Rami’s face.

“Affection,” she said.

That night, as Anna helped you dress for bed, you accepted the loss of your life in the village. There was a pang in your heart at losing your father, but you found what you were looking for.

“What are you smiling about?” Anna teased as she draped your dress over the chair for your vanity.

“I’m just happy,” you replied innocently.

“Tell me,” she insisted.

You sighed. “It’s silly since it’s been months, but...I finally feel at home here.”

She smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, Y/N.”

You gave her a quick hug before crawling into bed.

Rami was being helped out of his things by Thomas. The butler had served as butler and valet to the king, and now served Rami the same. As Thomas gathered Rami’s wet clothes from the floor, he noticed that the prince was….humming.

“You’re in a fine mood tonight, sir,” he remarked.

“Things are changing, Thomas,” Rami said. “For the first time since my mother and father died, this palace feels like a home.”

Thomas blinked. “You’re falling for her, aren’t you? Y/N?”

Rami shook the excess water off his fur. “I...I am.”

“Well, that’s great!” Thomas cried. “The spell should be broken!”

Rami’s face fell. “It’s not that simple. She has to love me too, remember?”

“Don’t get discouraged, sir,” Thomas said. “There’s hope.”

“How?” Rami wondered. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

“Of course, she’s a beautiful girl,” Thomas said. “And I think she’s beginning to see you, too, sir. To really see you.”

“You mean, you really think she’s starting to love me?” Rami wondered. “I’m still a beast!”

Thomas shook his head. “No, sir. You have always been a prince.”

A beat passed as Rami tried to gather himself. He had no words to express his gratitude for Thomas in that moment.

“I…” he began, but trailed off, unsure.

“You ought to do something romantic for her to let her know how you feel,” Thomas suggested.

“Like what?” Rami wondered.

“The New Year is coming up,” Thomas said. “Have a ball.”

“A ball?” Rami questioned. “Who would come?”

“Make it a private ball,” Thomas said. “Just the two of you, but get dressed up - you in tails, she in a gown - go all out.”

“You really think that would work?” Rami wondered.

“It can’t hurt to try,” Thomas said. “And you are on a time limit, sir. Now’s the time to take a risk.”

Rami looked over at the rose. Thomas was right, time was running out. The rose was curved over itself as it wilted, and more petals were all around it. He watched as another came off the stem and fluttered down to join the rest.

“You’re right,” Rami said. “It is time to take a risk.”

He straightened up. “Talk to Mrs. Carson. I want the main ballroom cleaned as soon as possible. I’ll help. I’ll need new clothes, so speak to Anna about tailoring some of my father’s old things. And Y/N will need a gown. Let her pick anything she wants from my mother’s collection.”

“Very good, sir!” Thomas praised.

“Oh! And Y/N is to know nothing about it, only that it’s a surprise,” Rami said. “The cleaning, the preparation, is all to be done as quietly as you can.”

“You are truly a romantic, sir,” Thomas said with a grin. “We will have it done.”

“Thank you,” Rami said. Then he swallowed. “For more than just this.”

Thomas nodded with understanding. “We will always take pride in serving you, sir. Good night.”

“Good night, Thomas,” Rami replied.

With that, the butler bowed and left. Rami sank down onto the bed, thinking of you. He really did have hope now. Whether or not you fell for him romantically didn’t matter as much to him. Just to know that he had you as a friend, someone who cared about him that wasn’t a servant or family member, was enough to make him optimistic. Not just that he could be a prince again, but that there was a life for him as he was now.

The new year was in a week. During that time, you noticed that the staff were unusually busy. Mrs. Carson was barely around when you needed her, Anna seemed flustered, and Thomas might as well have vanished. You only saw Daisy during your lessons. Even Rami was spending more time away from you.

“Is something wrong?” you asked him as you went for your daily walk through the garden.

You still took the walks, despite the frigid air. Rami found it refreshing and you thought roses were particularly beautiful in the snow.

“No, why do you ask?” he returned.

“Everyone has been rather...distant,” you explained. “Have I offended the staff?”

“Certainly not, they adore you,” he said. “There’s nothing to worry about, Y/N.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure?”

“Believe me, I’m sure,” he chuckled. “Everyone loves you.”

You did not shy away at the word love, so he didn’t regret saying it. Instead, you smiled.

“I love everyone here too,” you said. “That’s why I’m worried.”

“I know it’s odd, but just trust me,” he said. “You haven’t done anything wrong. There’s just...a little more work than usual to be done.”

“Why?” you pressed.

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Ugh. You and your surprises.”

You glanced over at him and met his gaze, confirming to him that you were teasing. You loved his surprises because they kept your life at the castle interesting. A little adventure.

The following day, Anna took you to the queen’s old closet. You were astonished by the size of it - it was almost the size of your whole room! - and got a little overwhelmed.

“The master wants you to pick something elegant,” Anna said. “For your surprise.”

“I don’t have much experience with clothes like this,” you admitted. “It all looks elegant to me.”

“I’ll narrow it down for you,” she offered.

She walked toward the back and selected four dresses. Each of them was stunning. The first was emerald green and velvet, and you thought it would be appropriate for the time of year. The second was a deep red, with white lace accents around the collar, which you also thought very wintery. The third was a sapphire blue, with jewels adorning the waistband. Then the fourth one really grabbed your attention. It was golden-yellow, made of satin, with a stunning sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves.

“Which do you like?” Anna asked.

“The yellow one,” you decided. “It’s like sunshine.”

You would never forget the day Rami told you you brought him sunshine. Well, now you’d make it as literal as you could.

“Good choice, Y/N,” she agreed.

“Anna, aren’t these a bit formal?” you asked as she helped you out of your day dress.

You’d need to try on the new dress since the queen was a little taller than you, with slightly broader shoulders, so Anna needed to make adjustments.

“Of course,” she said, looking up at you with a smile. “They’re ball gowns.”

Your brow furrowed. “Ball gowns?”

“Yes,” she said. “Stay there while I grab a petticoat.”

“Petticoat?!”

When Anna had the dress on you - petticoat and all - you were stunned by your appearance in the mirror. Anna gazed at you as well, and you saw her eyes begin to water.

“Anna!” you cried. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she sniffled. “You just...you look like a princess.”

You turned back to your reflection. You did look like a princess. You felt like a princess. But you were still yourself. Though this was something you never even imagined in your future, it felt right. You smiled.

“I look beautiful,” you said, half to yourself. “I never thought I could look like this.”

“It’s not just your sweet face, you know,” Anna said. “It’s you.”

You blushed at her words, feeling humbled by their sincerity.

“Thank you,” you said.

She grinned. “Come on. Let’s pick out some shoes and a tiara.”

“Oh, I couldn’t wear one of the queen’s tiaras!” you insisted. “It feels...wrong.”

“Y/N, if she were here, she’d lend them to you herself,” Anna said. “After everything you’ve done for her son -”

She stopped herself. You took her hand.

“Anna, what do you mean?” you questioned.

She shook her head. “I’m just being silly, but you’ve made a change in him. A great one.”

“How so?” you continued.

“It’s difficult to explain,” she said. “But you’ve given him hope.”

You let that sink in. You had given Rami hope? Well, he had given you a new life - a life filled with more than you even thought of. You had your own library for goodness sake! That was always a dream of yours.

“I...I don’t know what to say,” you told her. “I’m glad he’s happier. I’m actually happy too.”

She hugged you. You closed your eyes in her embrace, letting yourself feel and accept her appreciation. It was an odd feeling, but a good one.

“Now,” she said, pulling away. “Shoes and tiara.”

“I really don’t feel like I can wear the tiara,” you said. “I’m not a princess.”

“Very well, if you insist,” she conceded. “At least let me give you this.”

She picked up a comb from the shelf to her right. It was a beautiful hair comb made of gold. It had diamonds and rubies across it, but they were so delicate and dainty they reminded you of freckles.

“That will be perfect,” you said.

New Year’s Eve arrived, and you were in your room most of the day preparing for your surprise. Anna had tailored the dress to fit like a glove, and it looked impossibly more beautiful. You took some time to walk around in the heels, since you had never worn shoes like that before, but you took to it quickly. Then, Anna and Mrs. Carson showed you the basic waltz steps.

Rami was fidgeting as Thomas helped him dress. The prince had not worn anything new or tailored in many years. He hadn’t been trying to see or impress anyone. But tonight, he wanted very much to impress you. To show you how much he cared for you.

When everything was ready - your hair was done, the dress was on, and the final touches were finished - you walked to the main hall. There, you saw Rami. You beamed. He looked dashing in his suit with tails. It fit him exactly, so you could see his whole form. He stood up straight as you approached, his smile widening with every step you took.

“Welcome, madam, to the New Year’s Ball,” he said when you came to a stop in front of him.

“A ball?!” you gasped. “I’ve never been to a ball before!”

Your cheeks reddened with bashfulness, and Rami saw your concern.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you. “It’s just us two.”

You brightened. He offered his arm and you took it. Carefully but confidently, he escorted you down the stairs and into the room to the left. What you saw took your breath away.

The ballroom looked brand new. The gold and bronze decor gleamed in the low candlelight of the bright chandelier. The floor was waxed and it shined beneath your feet. It all sparkled and glittered, making you feel like you were truly a royal. You had never seen such grandeur in your life.

“Rami!” you cried, stepping forward to take it all in. You spun around to get a proper look. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

In the corner, sat a string quartet. You shot Rami a questioning look.

“There can’t be a ball without dancing,” he said.

He nodded to the players, and they began a soft, slow melody. Then, he looked back at you. He lowered himself at the waist, bowing. Then he offered his hand.

“May I have this dance?” he asked.

You blushed. This was like something out of a book you had read. Only, Rami looked quite a bit different from the heroes you were used to. You smiled to yourself because you realized it didn’t matter one bit.

“You may,” you replied. “My prince.”

He rose to his full height again, grinning. You took his hand and he led you out onto the floor. One hand was in Rami’s. The other was on his massive shoulder. His free paw went to your waist. Then, he took that first step. The music crescendoed, and you began to dance.

Your heart swelled with the music and the sway of your body. Rami was a patient and helpful partner, so you felt like you had been waltzing since before you could walk. No step was out of place. You didn’t miss a turn. Your cheeks began to ache from smiling, but you couldn’t feel it. All you knew was the sense of belonging right in Rami’s arms.

Tale as old as time True as it can be Barely even friends Then somebody bends Unexpectedly

Just a little change Small, to say the least Both a little scared Neither one prepared Beauty and the beast

Ever just the same Ever a surprise Ever as before Ever just as sure As the sun will rise

Tale as old as time Tune as old as song Bittersweet and strange Finding you can change Learning you were wrong

Certain as the sun Rising in the East Tale as old as time Song as old as rhyme Beauty and the beast

Tale as old as time Song as old as rhyme Beauty and the beast

You and Rami slowed to a stop as the music faded down. You were out of breath as you looked at each other, each of you enthralled by the other.

“Y/N, I…” he began, but trailed off.

“Could we step outside?” you asked. “It’s suddenly quite warm in here.”

He chuckled. “Sure.”

Taking his arm again, you walked out to the balcony. The night was bitterly cold, and you shivered as the wind hit your warm skin. Rami removed his jacket and wrapped it around you. Together, you walked over to the edge and looked out over the woods. The stars above you looked like jewels across the sky.

“What were you saying?” you asked.

“Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind for quite some time now,” he said. “You see, after getting to know you, I…”

“Yes?”

“I want to know if you’re happy here,” he said. “With me. In the palace. I...are you?”

“I am, Rami,” you told him. “Truly, I am. There is one thing, though.”

His heart skipped a beat. “What is it? Whatever you need, I’ll do.”

“I miss my father,” you admitted. “I miss him so much it makes me ache sometimes. If I could just see him and make sure he’s okay, I could…”

Rami’s mind went right to the solution.

“There is a way,” he said.

Your eyes went wide. “There is?”

“Come with me,” he said.

He led you back to the west wing. You had not returned there since the incident with the robbers out of respect. It felt like a milestone that he was inviting you up this time. You went to his room, where the mysterious rose still stood, only looking worse than the last time you saw it. Rami picked up a gold hand mirror and held it out to you.

“This can show me my father?” you questioned. “I thought it was from the enchantress.”

“It will show you anyone,” he said. “It’s how I found you when you were in the west wing that day. Just tell it who you want to see.”

You were skeptical, but you trusted Rami. So, you held the mirror before you.

“Show me my Papa,” you said hesitantly. “Please.”

The mirror glowed, so brightly you had to look away at first, and then a picture formed. Your father was in his bed. Little crimson stains lined the collar of his shirt. He was white as a sheet and sweat covered his forehead. He coughed violently and you winced as you saw more blood dribble into his beard.

“Papa!” you gasped quietly.

Rami heard the cough and saw your face. His heart began to sink. The situation was dire.

“Oh, Papa,” you sighed, tears welling up in your eyes. “He’s so sick.”

You looked desperately at Rami. He looked back at you. He knew what he had to do, but his heart was hammering fast against his chest in protest. He glanced at the rose and then back at you.

“He needs you,” he said.

Your brow furrowed. “I…”

“It wasn’t a question, Y/N,” he continued. “Your father needs you.”

He took a deep breath. You watched him, holding yours as you waited for what he would say next.

“I release you,” he said. “You’re no longer a prisoner here. Go home and look after your father.”

You blinked at a tear slid down your cheek. “I’m free?”

“You’re free,” he confirmed.

His heart stopped hammering. Now, he felt it breaking. You would leave here and never return.

“Rami, I...I don’t know what to say,” you replied.

“Don’t say anything,” he said. “He needs you. Be with him.”

You took his paw between your hands.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly. “You’re a kind person, Rami.”

He looked away. Mostly because he didn’t want you to see his own emotion. You started to hand the mirror back, but he stopped you.

“Keep it,” he said. “It’s a gift.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don’t need it anymore.”

A beat passed. You chewed your lip to think of something else to say. But what do you say to the person that you had this unique experience with?

“Take care of yourself, Rami,” you said.

“You too,” he returned.

His paw fell out of your grip and he went to the window. Feeling a terrible sense of dread, you left him there. You hurried to your room so Anna could help you change and pack.

Rami listened to your footsteps die down the hall. Then, Thomas and Mrs. Carson entered.

“Well, sir,” Thomas said. “How did it go?”

“She’s leaving,” Rami replied dully.

Mrs. Carson gasped. “How could you let her leave?”

“I had no other choice,” Rami answered. “I love her.”

When you were changed and packed, you hurried out to the stables to grab Dotty. You got her ready as quickly as you could with your shaking hands. As you galloped out of the courtyard and away from the castle, you heard a mournful roar echo from the west wing. Rami’s cry. Your heart shattered.

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tae-cup · 4 years

Text

Cupid’s Blind Eye | Of Eternity and Euphoria (3)

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Summary: A demigod looking for love meets the god of love himself.

Warnings: N/A. This might be the fluffiest one so far. wait I lied it’s not fluffy at all. It’s really angsty. I’m sorry.

Word Count: 5.4k words

A/N: I have a lot of ideas for this series. So much so, I’m ignoring my other series. Like Hamartia and The Pact which I was s u p p o s e d to start by now. Smh this is what happens when I have too many ideas. I’m planning a spin off series for a Male!reader for this...I also wanted to tie this more into the overarching plot, but it’s okay, I’ll get you more park jimin okay. Consider me your supplier.

AS:ASJFLKWJQ:W it deleted my first draft >:(

Other:

Series Masterlist

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Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged cupid painted blind - William Shakespeare

Your knees hurt already. It had been all of 15 minutes, but the gravel under your legs wasn’t exactly comfortable. You had spent the last hour praying for the god of love to show himself and you fell to your knees desperately in the last 15.

“Oh, god of love.” You drawled sarcastically, ready to leave the dilapidated altar. “Answer my prayers.” You practically rolled your eyes, sick of this nonsense.

You stood slowly, realizing he probably wasn’t going to show himself any time soon. You swiped the gravel off your knees, not noticing the presence behind you.

“You should know not to be so disrespectful to your gods, darling.” A sly voice called. You froze. No way. When you turned to look, a man leaned against the pillars of the altar. He radiated lust and love, an inhuman aura. There was no doubt this was the god of love, lust, and passion.

And unlike him, you radiated a sort of pure aura; compared to him, of course. It drove him mad.

“Oh.” You were at a loss for words. His build was literally of the gods and his face, oh his face. You couldn’t find a single flaw in his face. From his adorable nose to his plump lips. You found yourself staring at his features for way longer than necessary. He smirked. This was a typical response to his appearance.

“Why do you seek me out?” He stepped forward, peering into your eyes.

“I want to know my soulmate.” You clenched your fists. Everyone you knew already found theirs. Your friend, Jennie, had explained that the god of love had helped her, but you didn’t believe her. You thought she was pulling your leg. The god quirked his head to the side.

“Why do you need to know that?”

“Because I’m sick of being alone.” You admitted, mouth feeling awfully dry as you nervously shifted from foot to foot.

His gaze softened, heart thumping.

“You won’t be alone forever.”

“It feels like it sometimes.”

“You’re a demigod.” It suddenly clicked. Your blatant disrespect of the gods, the odd aura surrounding you. Almost godly, but not quite. Not many demigods had a good connection to the gods. They were often cast aside, looked over, thought of as wannabes when many just wanted to live their lives. His altar wasn’t any different than the other crumbled ones around, the only indicator was the Greek letters above, but only a demigod would be able to read that.

“And you’re a god. I’ve come to learn that it doesn’t matter who you are, we all die in the end.” You frowned, thinking of your godly parent, one that had faded a long time ago, sentenced to eternal darkness for the atrocity of giving birth to you. However, being a demigod came with its perks. As long as you stayed healthy, you had longer lifespans while staying youthful. You had stopped aging around 25, but now you were around 60. You would likely begin aging around 100 and then die around 200. You had lived a long life so far without finding love. At first you thought it was possible, but as the years went on, no one gave you that spark, that burning sensation, that claimed them as your soulmate.

“Listen.” You sighed, “I just want to know if they exist. I’ve spent years searching and I thought fate was supposed to bring us together. Are they to be born in another timeline? Shall we never meet?”

The god of love frowned at your lack of faith in him as a god. He stepped forward, close enough for you to make out his face in detail. He radiated love, lust, and passion. His eyes were intense, but you didn’t find yourself scared. In fact, it was almost comforting. He was the definition of love.

“Do you have so little faith in me? Fate has brought you here.” He gently reached out and touched your shoulder. He just needed to check. It was silly to think that the god of love, could not seem to find his lover. There. That spark, that burn. It spread like a wildfire, consuming your everything. It felt like your atoms had rearranged, yearning to be completed by him.

You couldn’t do anything except stare at him. There was no way you were fated to one of the gods whom you so dearly despised. The gods had abandoned you as a child. Was this some cruel punishment? He softened his expression, taking in your frustrated form. Scared, worried, and anxious were reactions he expected from his soulmate, but anger was not one.

“I don’t have to be with you, you know?” You said bitterly. “I can choose to stay away. Not all soulmates stay together.”

Your words clearly had an effect on him because he nodded and stepped away. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion and hurt flashed across his face.

“I won’t force you to join me, but please reach out if you change your mind. You know where to find me.” He gestured to the altar. He, out of everyone, knew that you could put two perfect people next to each other in a room, but you couldn’t force them to love each other. Love was a tricky thing and Jimin knew it best. “Just ask for Jimin.”

Then he was gone, the wind seemingly taking him away. You rushed forward, looking for that sneaky god, but you couldn’t locate him. You had to admit you felt bad about reacting that way. He didn’t expect this either. With a sigh, you called out to the stones. “I’m Y/N. Lovely to meet you, Jimin.”

And of course he heard you. His eyes trailed your back as you ran back into your small town. It was one of the last towns who truly believed in the gods, that’s why so many had altars up. A smile made his way onto his face. Now it was just wait and see.

“Oh come on. You are way too boring, Jimin.” The fiance (I’m sorry I don’t have accents on this computer >:( ) of Yoongi rolled her eyes.

“___, You must understand, love just doesn’t work like that, You have to let it happen.”

“I bet she wants you to chase after her.” ___ continued. “Here, invite her to the wedding. She can be your plus one!”

“You’re too kind. I fear she may be afraid of the underworld.”

“Didn’t you say she’s a demigod?” Yoongi’s fiance quirked her head to the side. She was a human before a goddess. She had no bias against demigods and Jimin felt she was the best to approach about his encounter.

“Yes.”

“Then I doubt she’ll even bat an eye at the underworld.” She viewed her nails, thanking the workers and standing from the salon. “You came all the way to the human world just so you could whine about your love life to the goddess of the underworld. Seems right.”

Jimin scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. He was at a loss for words, however, and he bit his lip. “I came to you because she seems more human than god and I wanted to know your experience.”

“Well, Yoongi basically kidnapped me, but not really. I just knew I wanted to go with him. Then he and I hit it off from there. I fought with Taehyung, stirred up some shit, and now I’m going to be the downfall of Olympus.”

The other gods didn’t like her joking about the downfall of Olympus, but Jimin could always laugh.

“At least my nails will look good while it happens, yeah?”

The love god laughed along with her and the two walked over to the park. The park, known as Plyosum Park, was a great hotspot of godly energy. It was the quickest and easiest way to get to Olympus.

“Now, I must be going.” She smiled, “But, have you ever thought, Jimin, that she’s no more human than she is god? Maybe she just wants to be treated as the person she is; a demigod. That’s why I don’t think I can help you much. I wish you luck, however.” She sent a small wave to him before ghostly hands reached up and dragged her under.

Jimin sighed. She had a point. He’ll just treat you like any person. He let his wings grow out as he prepared to travel back to Olympus. They were a feathery white with golden flakes scattered in between. Many called him cupid for this, but he preferred the name Eros.

You opened the letter with caution. It had appeared on your desk when you arrived home and it definitely hadn’t been there before. The handwriting looked familiar, though you couldn’t place your finger on it.

Dear Y/N,

I am writing to you today because the god and goddess of the underworld are getting married. They have requested I bring along someone and of course my first thoughts were of you. It would be lovely if you are able to join me, but it’s quite alright if you don’t feel comfortable. Please consider my offer, but I will not hold it against you if you choose not to come.

Best,

Jimin

You had to chuckled at his formal phrasing, but you couldn’t blame him. He wanted to give you space and you respected him for being so cautious to your boundaries. It wasn’t expected of the god. After all, he was a god. He could have just kidnapped you on the spot. Maybe he just understands love doesn’t work like that. That made more sense. You carefully wrote back.

My dearest Jimin,

I would be honored to attend such a momentous occasion. Sadly, I seem to be at a lack of formal wear suitable for this kind of event, what do you suggest?

Best,

Y/N

Of course you had to shoot back with your own formal tone. You hoped he understood the sarcasm in it as you hiked to the only place you knew he visited. His altar was old, crumbling, very un-beautiful for the most beautiful god you knew. Then you remembered that you would be meeting many beautiful gods and goddesses in a short time.

You placed the far messier letter down at his altar and hurried back to the village. Jimin was waiting, hoping to catch you, but you were gone before he could even speak. He bent down and slowly picked up the letter. He hastily tore it open, smiling fondly at your words. It was a shame he didn’t get to see you properly before you rushed off.

It was in your nature, as a demigod, to be skiddish around most things; though you seemed to have more of a fight in you than other demigods. The issue was that demigods didn’t fit in anywhere. The gods despised them and regarded them as abominations, hybrids, wannabes. The humans weren’t much better, fearing anything they considered other. Demigods would rarely be able to rest without being hunted by one group or another.

Jimin looked to the middle distance, thinking about what outfit would best suit you. He wanted you to fit in with the other gods and goddesses. While he was a great believer in “love is love” other gods may try to bring you down simply because you were a demigod. It made him feel ill to think of what terrible things could come your way because of your mother’s mistake, not that you were a mistake. He mentally scolded himself. He was constantly on the fritz of checking himself and making sure he said the right things.

He shook his head, returning to his place in the clouds.

When there was a knock at your door, you jumped in surprise. It was not often that the village people visited you. You lived a lonely existence, but you decided this was fine.

“For: Y/N.” You read carefully, surveying the package on your doorstep. You glanced around, eyes flicking to the house next door and traveling down the empty road. Hurriedly, you grabbed the package and hauled it inside your house, slamming the door shut.

The box was more of a rectangle. It was long and flat and there was no return address. You had a feeling you knew who had delivered it. You walked to the kitchen and grabbed a pair of scissors. Then you approached the package, unsure of how to open it. If this was what you thought it was, you didn’t want to damage it. You gnawed at your lip, brows furrowed in concentration as you painstakingly cut through the thin strips of tape. This is ridiculous, just rip it open. You couldn’t bring yourself to do that, however. You didn’t want to rip the contents. So you continued your work before the box flaps finally undid themselves.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked at the dress. It was a light pink, an innocent color. You rushed to your room to try it on. Of course it fit perfectly. It had a tight bodice, hugging the upper half of your body in a flattering way. Then the rest of the material flowed from the bodice. Layers of tulle and silk fluttered to the ground. In the box also came a delicate silver crown, headband, thing. The silver was twisted into delicate branches that curved every which way, forming a sort of bramble. It looked so elegant and graceful. The accessories that came with the dress included silver earrings and bracelets. The most important was a necklace. It was an graceful, thin, silver chain, but at the bottom it was weighed down by a light pink gemstone. It seemed to glow, like a beating heart. You didn’t expect anything less from the god of love. You were stunning.

You couldn’t wait to wear it to the wedding in a few days. Jimin would surely be impressed. You found yourself blushing girlishly at the thought of impressing him. You wanted him to want you. To see his eyes light up when you entered a room. To kiss him. You gently placed your fingers on your lips, thinking of his plush ones on yours. You knew he would oblige you if you asked, but you had only met the once and the soulmate bond was inexplicably strong already. You were worried it would consume you if you let it. Would you still be standing if it did?

Days go by and now you stand at his altar. It’s desolate, looking lonelier than ever before. You shift nervously, having done your makeup to reflect the lightness you were sure he wanted to portray. You knew he was trying to get the other gods to like you and you were still wary of meeting them. However, you promised yourself that you would try, even if the other immortals didn’t. You didn’t want to pace, having already painstakingly made sure your dress wasn’t muddied on the way up. Where is he?

You were beginning to worry. Little did you know, Jimin was freaking out. He was pacing and getting far too worked up for a god.

“Hyung! What if-what if she gets scared and doesn’t want to see me again?” He whined to the sky god. He strutted up and down the hallway that led to his altar. He knew you were there, he could feel it, he just couldn’t bring himself to step through.

“Jiminie, she’s a demigod, she’ll be okay.” Jin squeezed his younger friend’s shoulder. Jimin had trusted Jin enough to tell him about you. He thought of telling Namjoon, longing for the elder’s advice more than anything, but there was something sneaky about that god that held him off.

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Why would she show up if she wasn’t interested?”

Jimin ran a hand through his hair and Jin could tell he was about to complain more so he stepped in.

“Hey, you’ll be okay.” He said softly, pushing the god of love towards the door. Who knew that such a suave man was so...scared of love? “If you’re worried about jumping off the deep end and drowning,” Jin had heard that falling for your soulmate often felt that way. “Then it’ll be okay. You’ll learn how to breathe underwater.”

The elder god then took the, now quiet, god by the shoulders and steered him down the hallway. The god of love took one heavy step after another. “Go, you’ll be late otherwise and that won’t do any good to lighten the other gods’ positions on her.” Jin said, almost scolding. The younger god just kept his mouth shut, nodding way too easily to his friend.

“Wait, Hyung-”

“Go.”

Then he was shoved through the doorway.

He stumbled straight into you, hands reflexively reaching out to stable you. You gasped in surprise, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Jimin! I thought you weren’t coming.” You said in a huff. The god stood there sheepishly, scratching his head.

“Right, I’m so sorry, I was...” Honesty is the best in any relationship. “...I was nervous.”

You tilted your head to the side. Usually it was the other way around with all the assholes you’d dated in the past. They were always entitled, never asking you about anything.

“Oh, I see.” You said awkwardly. “Well, it’s getting late.” You drifted off. Then you noticed him staring at you. Your cheeks flushed pink again at his gaze. It was intense, searching, as it took in your outfit. You heard him let out a soft breath.

“You look...ravishing.” He breathed, finally putting into words how he felt. But nothing could describe how you looked. You looked like a goddess. Perfection, beauty, grace, intelligence, all in one. He swallowed, trying to keep himself in check. He held out his hand, “Well?”

You hesitated, looking at his soft hands. Hands that had never worked a day in their lives. You cautiously place your hands in his and he pulled you close.

“Let’s go.” He murmured. How he managed to make two words sound so enticing was lost on you.

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms...?” The goddess in front of you purred, holding out her hand. She somehow made it seem condescending. You and Jimin had been glued to the hip since you arrived, but he had briefly left to get drinks, leaving you to fend for yourself. Every god and goddess in the room was intrigued by you. You just kept thinking back to how extravagant the ceremony had been, but you had been more taken with how gracious the bride was. She was so bright compared to the god of the underworld, but somehow they got along.

“Y/N.” You smiled, your lips pressed together. You looked, and in someways were, like a goddess, but everyone knew there was something different. Your impostor syndrome was driving you mad.

“Right.” The feline-like goddess strolled away. You turned, trying to ignore the headache you had, only to bump into another god. He looked startled, jumping back quickly. He had an airy quality of innocence and bright light around him. He was handsome, devilishly so.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” You exclaimed genuinely, looking at the god with confusion. He had this air of familiarity about him that you couldn’t quite place.

“No, no, it was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He said shyly. Then an arm wrapped around your waist, a drink being handed to you softly. The man before you got visibly more pale at the sight of the god holding you. He didn’t seem scared, just sad, maybe even heartbroken. “Oh, I see.” He nodded quietly, mood doing a whole 180.

Jimin grimaced as he watched the other man retreat. He felt his heart strings tug, but pushed the pained feeling away. You could sense the tension so you carefully unwrapped yourself, taking his hands.

“Let’s dance.” You said softly. You weren’t sure what just happened, but it didn’t feel like your place to pry. As you place your hands on his shoulders and he planted his firmly on your waist, he let out a sigh.

“I know you’re curious, you can’t hide things from me.” He glanced around as you both blended into the crowd of other couples slow dancing. “That was Agape.”

You nodded slowly. That’s why you felt so familiar. Anyone who was close to Eros understood Agape well.

“Is that was he goes by?” You knew Agape to be the innocent love, the first love, and Eros to be a more sexual love, one filled with desire. You also knew that Jimin didn’t go by Eros, he went by Jimin. People often got him mixed up with Agape, claiming him as cupid, but Agape usually handled first love scenarios.

“No.” He said quietly, as if losing his will to speak. “He... he goes by-” He suddenly cut himself off. “Actually, he doesn’t like it when people refer to him by his real name. Just know that I like you now. You don’t need to worry about him.”

You frowned, eyebrows knitting together. “I never thought he would take you away from me? I was just interested.”

“Ah, yeah, there’s been...tension.” He didn’t give you any more explanation so you sought to change the topic.

“Tell me about the other gods.”

He seemed glad to change subjects. Instead, he told you about Seokjin, the friendly sky god who knew of your predicament. Then he went on about his Taehyungie, Kookie, and then his hyungs. You smiled warmly at all his fond remarks, discussing them as if they were his blood relatives. It humanized them, though you weren’t sure if that was intentional on his part. You had just warmed up to the idea of meeting these gods when someone screamed.

It wasn’t a happy scream. It was a blood curdling, ear piercing, shriek. A goddess ran from the entryway, clearly alarmed. You jumped and Jimin’s hold on you tightened.

You could see Taehyung pull his lover closer and Yoongi pushed his wife behind him. Other gods were taking defensive stances, eyeing the goddess warily. She was obviously a low level god, her aura faint and you were sure she was to die out soon. Seokjin carefully approached her like a wounded animal. Being the oldest, he had this responsibility; to meet all threats to his circle with full force.

“Ah, Ms. Lee, what troubles you today?”

The entire room stilled, watching Ms. Lee carefully. Seokjin spoke calmly, but there was a fierceness to his voice, a demanding power.

“We’re under attack up above. They’ll be here any minute!” She was inconsolable. You gripped Jimin’s arm and he held you impossibly closer. And attack? By who? The enemies of the gods were long gone and any god who tried to cause trouble was sure to be eliminated quickly. All the gods seemed troubled except a certain war god.

“Great! Then we’ll go to war!” He shouted, anger in his voice. Being the war god, you were sure it was his natural voice. Jimin started radiating a more dominating aura. You realized then that he had hidden most of it as to not freak you out. Now he glowed a luminescent light pink. You knew he was quite literally a lover, not a fighter.

“Now, now, how do we know this isn’t just a set up?” Yoongi narrowed his eyes, clearly not wishing to discuss war on his wedding night.

“Well either way we’d still be under attack.” The girl beside Taehyung breathed. She had a point, you couldn’t deny that. Jungkook’s eyes met briefly with Taehyung’s lover and you could almost see the spark of tension despite being a little ways away. Taehyung put himself between the two subtly. You had a feeling there was a story there.

“Jimin?” Your voice was a whisper as to not break the very thin surface tension of the room. He squeezed your hand in response to tell you he was listening. “Are we in danger?” Your heart beat rapidly. You knew you were the most human here. You were strong, but you wouldn’t last a second against a god. Okay, scratch that, you might last two seconds, being a demigod, but you were still severely disadvantaged. You didn’t want to a) be a burden and b) be killed.

“I’ll keep you safe, love.” He murmured quietly, leaning down and pressing a kiss on the top of your head. You felt your body heat up, wishing those lips to be on yours. You just nodded along, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Then there was a bang outside and the sound of the guards running. You turned to him. eyes wide.

Taehyung was already pushing his lover and Yoongi’s wife together, having another god usher them somewhere safe. You paused, wanting to join them. You even saw Yoongi’s wife turn and look at you expectantly. All the gods and goddesses who valued their lives were running. There was another bang and it was chaos. Those who had been frozen in place were now running and those who wished to fight were materializing their weapons. Jimin looked between you and the door, clearly debating. You gently pushed him towards his friends, knowing he wouldn’t want to leave his brothers.

Then you pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. He flushed red.

“Maybe you’ll get a kiss on the lips if you come back unscathed.” You joked, winking playfully as if he wasn’t about to go out and face...whatever was behind that entryway door. He didn’t respond, just nodding firmly. You rushed to join the other two women who were considered V.I.P.s because of their status and relationships to the inner circle. As you were ushered out of the room, you heard the door burst open and you prayed Jimin was safe.

You shivered, the dress not doing any good to keep you warm. The women beside you had hardly spoken a word to you except one, who was the bride herself. She had introduced herself to you and then gone quiet. Obviously, she was worried for her new husband. The other woman was shaking like a leaf. You were surprised the relationship between her and Taehyung worked, but you knew love worked in mysterious ways. The bride offered you a small smile, pulling off her pristine white cardigan and handing it to you. You thanked her lowly before resuming your staring contest with the wall.

It was a nice room, a library somewhere even more underground than the underworld. The goddess of the Earth was obviously more wary of you than the one of the underworld. Though, from what Jimin had briefed you on, she had once been a human too. You were all worried sick for your loved ones, of course. No one could think of much else. The constant shouting was driving you over the edge. You just wanted some peace and quiet.

Having always been introverted, you didn’t enjoy crowds for long periods of time. Keeping to yourself and staying out of the way was the best. As much as you disliked the gods, you and the women in the room were sharing a bond. A bond of fear. You were quite the opposite from Jimin in that way. He was a very social person, always going out of his way to talk to people, his words always smooth and graceful. You, on the other hand, were just...there. You stumbled over your words, rambled, and had trouble concealing your emotions as well as him.

There was a knock on the door. You all looked at each other, eyes wide and waiting for the password to be spoken. There was none. It’s not them. You mouthed. The door flew open before you had time to react. You counted your seconds. Two seconds against a god. You had two seconds.

You were just confused, however, when you were met with a familiar face.

“Mom?”

The long forgotten goddess didn’t even flinch at the anger in your expression, nor the tears that betrayed your pain. It was all too much. She had changed so much. Once the goddess of wisdom, the original goddess long before Namjoon, she held herself with grace. But her frame all bones, no fat, her face was gaunt, and she looked liked she had just walked out of a halloween store. Your breath caught in your throat as she grasped your arm, hard enough to cause a whimper of pain. The other women were forced to follow along as well.

She escorted you out to the ballroom. You felt yourself go pale, stomach dropping to the floor as you surveyed the room. Blood, everywhere. You couldn’t tell whose was whose. Gods are gods, but they bleed. And when they die, they must wait to be reborn once more. You felt your heart clench, seeing the inner circle on their knees. They looked defeated. Seokjin was comforting a sobbing girl, only to have her ripped away and whisked somewhere else. This made the elder god snarl, but he stopped almost immediately after looking at their captors. And who wouldn’t?

They were ghastly creatures, looking like demons out of a novel of pain and horror. Some of them had melted skin, others had hollow faces and haunting stares. All brandished with various “K”s on their bodies. You noticed your mother had one on the side of her neck. The gods were arguing with someone, but you couldn’t make out everything, the argument in full on Greek. Then there was a loud cough. Your mother threw forth the other two girls first. You watched Taehyung and Yoongi’s eyes go wide, before going back, completely feral, to arguing. Then your mother pulled you in close.

“Y/N.” She said coldly, despite her seemingly motherly embrace. “You have disappointed me greatly, I pray Kronos spares you.” Her lips were a thin line as she threw you to the ground too. You tripped over the debris and landed on your hands and knees. You looked up, meeting the eyes of Jimin.

You saw a quiet fury. You knew Jimin was diplomatic, he wouldn’t yell, but you could feel his anger from across the room. He mouthed ‘I love you’. And you frowned a little. This was not where you wanted to be confessed to. You wanted him to say to you, alone, and secluded. You selfishly wanted that. Now the enemy had stolen your first I Love Yous as well.

“Put her with the others.” You understood that part. The masked leader gestured to an underling who unceremoniously dragged you over to the other women. You huddled together as they shoved you into a cage with the crying girl from earlier. Yoongi’s wife wasn’t crying, but she did seem to be in a state of shock. Taehyung’s lover was crying, trying to conceal her sniffles. You gently shrugged off the cardigan from earlier, handing it to her. She took it quickly, hiding her face. You even heard the smallest thank you. Underlings surrounded you like specimen, watching you like you were zoo animals.

“Yoongi!” The bride called out, panicked. You felt it too. There was something bad coming. Then the cage moved and you felt nauseated from the sudden movement. You panicked fully for the first time. Where were they taking you?

“Jimin!” You screeched, hand stretching out. His eyes widened farther.

“Y/N!” He called back, fighting the restraints and lunging towards the cage.

Taehyung’s girlfriend sobbed loudly and Taehyung looked over, concern evident as he struggled to reach out, mental focus just on getting to his lover.

“I love you!” You cried. “Please look for us, don’t give up on us.” Came out your broken plea.

“I’ll search the ends of the universe just to see your face, Y/N.” You heard him say. The underlings restrained him and you sat back, feeling defeated already. The others knew you weren’t a goddess and they immediately babied you, knowing your body to be far more fragile from theirs. Tae’s girlfriend shot you small smiles of encouragement and you did so in return. Yoongi’s wife rubbed your back and the third mystery woman remained silent as you were driven to gods know where.

Last minute A/N: OKAY OKAY I admit it, I didn’t give this...a great happy ending. BUT BUT BUT I promise you a happy ending in the future-

#bts #tatawrites #of eternity and euphoria #bts x reader #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #fluff #god!BTS #God!Jimin #Demigod!reader #love #proof reading is dead to me #I'll just fix it later if I have the guts to reread my work

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bitchbrisket · 3 years

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First Lines Tag

Tagged by @slightlyintimidating

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

As all my mutuals have been tagged already, I’ll just tag a couple of people, @tara-stofse and @rapidashpatronus

I’m also going to cheat and give you a favourite line from each one, simply because the first line is rarely the best and why not be a big fat show off where your writing is concerned? Didn’t link because I am a lazy cow but my AO3 profile is at the top of my page.

1. (The Worst Witch 2017) A friend like you – 'Get in loser, we're going shopping!'

Sometimes I come up with good titles and sometimes I desperately flail around and this was the best I could do. Most people should know what the opening line is a reference to and it was the first thing I thought of when the idea of this fic materialised.

· 'I know you think you're hot stuff, but Dimity can run rings around you. You have the acting skills of a potato' she icily informed a miffed Arabella.’

2. (Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries) An education - 'I confess, I fail to understand the point of most of them.'

Again, another crappy title but for some reason, no song lyric or poem came to me on the subject of policemen raiding a Chinese brothel in the 1920s and confiscating vibrators because they look like suspicious instruments. I did lift the first line from the script because that is partly what I based the fic on. 0/10 for originality there.

· ‘The benefit of having so many deities, Lin reflected, was that there was always someone in, should you knock on the door of their shrines.’

3. (The Worst Witch 2017) Poker – ‘Miss Bat scuttled along to the staffroom after her date and walked in, only to halt in surprise.’

Good Lord, I’m really not selling it to you with these boring titles am I? I’ve done the strip poker storyline with the hairpins in another fandom and couldn’t think up a clever title for that either.

· ‘Clothes were strewn everywhere but in front of Hecate, there was a small pile of hairpins and nothing else.’

4. (The Worst Witch 2017) Which witch is which? – ‘Wychwood forest was a mysterious place, full of wrackspurts and helipoaths and blibbering humdingers. Sometimes you'd even see a crumple horned snorcack galloping along.’

Yes, alright I borrowed something off the world of Harry Potter. A fic based off a post off of a popular post on Tumblr and title borrowed off Dianna Wynne Jones I think.

· 'Watch out for the blibbering humdingers!' she shouted vengefully after the troublesome tourists.’

5. (The Worst Witch 2017) They do it with mirrors - 'I've missed you.'

Very general, basic bitch kind of starter. Dial up the smut o’metre because witches are having the equivalent of webcam sex. Written for the Hackle Lemonade Challenge, prompt kink. Wasn’t one of my favourites to write but it does have one of my favourite paragraphs in a smutty fic. Beats the first line anyway.

· ‘She groaned and panted as her climax finally overtook her, glad of the extra support from the solid oak furniture. None of this modern rubbish that couldn't withstand a good hard fuck. There was a time and a place for IKEA but this was not it.’

6. (The Worst Witch 2017) Every inch of you – ‘Ada loved it when Hecate lightly raked her nails down her back.’

Diving straight into the smut for this other Hackle Lemonade Challenge, prompt kink fic. Title entirely appropriate.

· ‘While many people over the years could make it happen, it was a secret delight to know that nobody did it better than her.’

7. (The Worst Witch 2017) The hum of your desire – ‘Ada woke up to an empty bed.’

At least it’s promising. The story can go anywhere when you start off with an empty bed. The bed is irrelevant anyway. They end up on the sofa.

· ‘Hecate Hardbroom was nothing but a meticulous over achiever.’

8. (The Worst Witch 2017) You’re the night sky, trying to make me see your stars – ‘Hecate had been afraid to touch.’

Throws you right into the scene and lets you know there’s going to be a bit of angst in there. I love the song I took the title from (night sky – Leonell Cassio & Julia Mihevc) and I waited for a fic idea to materialise so I could use it.

· ‘Ada could feel her breathing, steady and true, vibrating through to her heart.’

9. (Ghosts) Hide & seek – ‘Giggling madly, she galloped up the stairs to seek out the best hiding place ever.’

With several of the ghosts with backstories we have yet to uncover, the possibilities are endless. Poor Kitty had to die young so I gave her a death loosely based on an English ghost story, using all the unsavoury incidents involving her sister. Title needs no explanation.

· ‘And shimmering obliquely in the corner of the landing, was the answer. The wooden chest. The one from the latest sailing ship that had brought back all that sugar and tea and rum.’

10. (The Worst Witch 2017) When breathing sounds like your song – ‘She hadn't let herself enjoy it at first.’

Luckily the only way from there is forward. For the Hackle Lemonade Challenge 2021, prompt firsts. Not sure where I got the title from, it’s possible I melded a couple of song lyrics together for it.

· ‘I always feel thirsty after a pleasurable experience' she said cheerfully.’

11. (Holby City) There is no goat that foolish – ‘Serena patted down her wide brimmed hat and set off for a walk.’

It’s an ok start to the fic. The title is terrible but honestly, its just hard to find references to goats in general.

· ‘She only just realised that they were conversing in English, not French. The other woman had a London accent. Good. She could shout at her more expressively in English.’

12. (The Worst Witch 2017) Sugar mouse – ‘What is it?’

So many possibilities here. The title does give it away, but still.

· ‘In her nightmares, her grandfather had chased her around with an eyeball on a fork.’

13. (Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries) Stitch up - ‘I’d like to see you operate my sewing machine, Hugh Collins.’

Another shameless ripping off from the script. But nothing else can sum up this fic so perfectly. Title self-explanatory.

· ‘Were sewing machines like dogs? He wondered. Did they take on the personalities of their owners?’

14. (Pushing Daisies) Girls don’t want boys, girls want damn respect – ‘Her boy always had an eye for the ladies.’

What a ridiculously clunky title. But apparently I couldn’t think of anything better. The opening line is much better.

· ‘Calista was reminded of the principal at school that Emerson had crushed on so hard that he'd broken every fire alarm in the school over the course of several months just to get her attention. Some things never changed.’

15. (Holby City) Tell us the tale of a goat – ‘Did I ever tell you about how Serena and I met?’

A solid opening there, full of potential. The title is a bit crap. No, I have no idea why or how Serena would be working on the Italian railway either.

· ‘You dressed one up in a poncho and called it aunt Gertrude?’ Fleur asked eventually. She really couldn’t think of anything better to say.’

16. (Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries) In the gracious light – ‘Jack tried not to let their questioning stares get to him.’

Based partly on the MFMM books, I’m happy with the opening line, it sets the tone. The title comes from Shakespeare’s Sonnet VII. ‘Lo! in the orient when the gracious light.’ With that, it ties in Jack and Lin quite nicely.

· ‘After all, grandmama had warned him enough about the distraction of white girls. She had said nothing about white boys.’

17. (Holby City) Not yet – ‘Bernie wouldn't describe herself as an avid reader these days.’

Title taken from a line in the book Wicked. Opening line is pretty generic. I basically wrote this fic because Elphaba reminds me of Bernie in some respects. Also, premonition, sorry about that.

· ‘In her mind, it was Serena in that cell, stretching out her hand to Bernie and chiding her affectionately for her delay.’

18. (Ghosts) Filth – ‘The Captain paid no attention to Lady Button's shrewish tone two rooms away.’

Simple title, simple opening line. Very direct. It’s the ‘why didn’t the Captain and Lady Button bond over the hot gardener in Lady Chatterly’s Lover together’ fic.

· ‘The Captain sighed. That husband of hers had a lot to answer for. Bastard. He couldn't have killed her by poison or anything, no, he had to push her out of the damn window.’

19. (Ghosts & Holby City crossover) Over the top we go – ‘He couldn't believe it.’

So many things one couldn’t believe, a pretty generic opening. The title is a WW1 reference so not the correct war for the Captain but I used it anyway. Bernie is Haver’s niece.

· ‘The Captain looked pleased but there was an expression in his eyes that Alison thought hid a sob in his heart.’

20. (Holby City) Boobs – ‘Arthur Digby was having a terrible day.’

Title, utterly crap, I know you’ll agree. Opening line, sums it up really. I like it.

· 'Well, call me Da Vinci and I'll paint you like one of those French girls.'

Art wasn't Fleur's strong point.’

So what did I learn about my opening lines? It does reflect my writing style, snappy and concise. I rarely ramble for long. Are they thrilling opening lines? Not usually. Do they set the scene or the tone? Much of the time. They are certainly not the best ones I’ve ever written. Considering that I don’t love most of these last lot of opening lines, I’m going to go with which witch is which? It’s the best one of the bunch, I think.

#fanfiction

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carolinesiede · 3 years

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Reflecting on 2020

The strangest thing about 2020 was how familiar much of it felt: Working from home, extended periods of isolation, weeks and months blending together. To a much lesser degree, those are things I experience each year as a freelancer. And while I suspect it will take awhile before the full extent of the trauma we’ve all lived through this year fully sets in, right now I’m mostly focused on gratitude. I’m grateful for the health of my loved ones. Grateful I already had a work-from-home routine to maintain during the pandemic. And grateful that I was able to quarantine with my family for much of the year—which had its challenges but also its rewards too.

In my 2019 year-end post I wrote about feeling like my career was finally on an upward trajectory after several years of plateauing. This year obviously offered some new wrinkles in that regard. I made significantly less money and felt familiar fears about how sustainable this career actually is. But having less work also gave me more time to focus on the actual craft of writing. I feel like I reached a new level in terms of voice, clarity, and the ability to self-edit. I'm the sort of person who constantly (arguably, obsessively) strives to be better, and it’s rewarding to feel like that hard work is finally slowly starting to pay off.

In addition to devoting my quarantine time to mastering a favorite curry recipe, getting really into the Enneagram, finally learning to French braid hair, and rewatching all of New Girl, I also had some really cool opportunities scattered throughout the year. I interviewed John Barrowman about his surprise return to Doctor Who, which felt like a real milestone for me. I also contributed to the Los Angeles Times’ list of TV shows to binge-watch during quarantine, which appeared both online and in print. And thanks to everything going virtual this year, I was able to attend a press panel for the fifth season of This Is Us, which is the sort of thing I’m not usually able to do as a Chicago-based critic.

My career is always a juggling act between film and TV, and this year made me appreciate how valuable it is to be able to move seamlessly between both worlds. I took on new TV assignments covering the first season of Stargirl and the second season of The Umbrella Academy, both of which were a blast to write about. And while I didn’t watch quite as many films as I did in my insane catch-up year last year, I did fill in some more major blindspots. I also contributed to The A.V. Club’s list of the best films of 2000 and shared my own ballot over on Letterboxd. Oh, and I set up a Letterboxd this year too!

Elsewhere, I made my debut on Bustle and The Takeout, and ended the year with a Polygon article about “Kind Movies” that pretty much sums up my entire ethos on storytelling. I was also named a Top Critic by Rotten Tomatoes, which was a real honor. But the pride and joy of my career remains my rom-com column, When Romance Met Comedy. I devoted a whopping 49,000 words to analyzing 25 different romantic comedies this year. And I’m really pleased with how the column has grown and with the positive feedback I’ve received.

I have to admit, I sometimes worry that year-end highlight reels like this one can make my life seem easy or glamorous in a way that doesn’t reflect what it’s like to actually live through it. I'm tremendously lucky to get to do what I do, but I also struggle a lot—both with the logistics of this career and with bigger questions about what value it brings to the world. My goal is to approach 2021 with a greater sense of intentionality. I want to be more thoughtful in my career choices, more purposeful in how I use social media, and more active in my activism and politics. I’d also like to do 20 push-ups a day everyday for the whole year, but we’ll see how long that resolution actually lasts.

Finally, on a sadder note, one other defining experience of the year was the loss of my dear internet friend Seb Patrick, who I’ve known for years through the Cinematic Universe podcast. Seb created a wonderfully positive nerd space online, and was a big part of my early quarantine experience thanks to the Avengers watchalongs I did with the CU gang in the spring. I’m so grateful for all the fun pop culture chats we got to have throughout the years, several of which are linked below. Seb is tremendously missed, and there’s a fund for his family here.

As we head into 2021, I’ll leave you with wishes for a Happy New Year and a roundup of all the major writing and podcasts I did in 2020. If you enjoyed my work, you can support me on Kofi or PayPal. Or you can just share some of your favorite pieces with your friends! That really means a lot.

My 15 favorite films of 2020

My 15 favorite TV shows of 2020

Op-eds, Features, and Interviews

Women Pioneered The Film Industry 100 Years Ago. Why Aren’t We Talking About Them? [Bustle]

2020 is the year of the Kind Movie — and it couldn’t have come at a better time [Polygon]

Make a grocery store game plan for stress-free shopping [The Takeout]

What’s Going On: A primer on the call to defund the police [Medium]

Doctor Who’s John Barrowman on the return of Captain Jack Harkness [The A.V. Club]

Episodic TV Coverage

Doctor Who S12

This Is Us S4 and S5

Supergirl S5

Stargirl S1

The Umbrella Academy S2

The Crown S4

NBC’s Dr. Seuss’ The Grinch Musical!

When Romance Met Comedy

Is The Ugly Truth the worst romantic comedy ever made?

Working Girl’s message is timeless, even if the hair and the shoulder pads aren’t

You’ve Got Mail and the power of the written (well, typed) word

Love & Basketball was a romantic slam dunk

How did My Big Fat Greek Wedding make so much money?

America eased into the ’60s with the bedroom comedies of Doris Day and Rock Hudson

I can’t stop watching Made Of Honor

Notting Hill brought two rom-com titans together

It’s time to rediscover one of Denzel Washington’s loveliest and most under-seen romances

Something’s Gotta Give is the ultimate quarantine rom-com

20 years ago, But I’m A Cheerleader reclaimed camp for queer women

On its 60th anniversary, Billy Wilder’s The Apartment looks like an indictment of toxic masculinity

The Wedding Planner made rom-com stars out of Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey

After 25 years, Clueless is still our cleverest Jane Austen adaptation

William Shakespeare invented every romantic comedy trope we love today

Edward Norton made his directorial debut by walking a priest, a rabbi, and a Dharma into a Y2K rom-com

The forgotten 1970s romantic comedy that raged against our broken, racist system

His Girl Friday redefined the screwball comedy at 240 words per minute

Before Wonder Woman soared into theaters, the hacky My Super Ex-Girlfriend plummeted to Earth

Dirty Dancing spoke its conscience with its hips

The rise of Practical Magic as a spooky season classic

In a dire decade for the genre, Queen Latifah became a new kind of rom-com star

Years before Elsa and Anna, Tangled reinvigorated the Disney princess tradition

Palm Springs is the definitive 2020 rom-com

Celebrate Christmas with the subversive 1940s rom-com that turned gender roles on their head

The A.V. Club Film & TV Reviews

Netflix’s To All The Boys sequel charms, though not quite as much as the original

The Photograph only occasionally snaps into focus

Jane Austen's Emma gets an oddball, sumptuous, and smart new adaptation

Pete Davidson delivers small-time charms in Big Time Adolescence

Council Of Dads crams a season of schmaltzy storytelling into its premiere

In Belgravia, Downton Abbey’s creator emulates Dickens to limited success

Netflix’s Love Wedding Repeat adds some cringe to the rom-com

Netflix takes another shot at Cyrano de Bergerac with queer love triangle The Half Of It

We Are Freestyle Love Supreme is a feel-good origin story for Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first troupe

Sara Bareilles’ melodic Apple TV+ series Little Voice is still finding itself

Netflix’s sexist rom-com sensation gets a minor upgrade in The Kissing Booth 2

With Howard, Disney+ movingly honors the lyricist who gave the Little Mermaid her voice

The Broken Hearts Gallery tries to find catharsis in heartbreak

Netflix’s ghostly musical series Julie And The Phantoms hits some charming tween high notes

After We Collided slides toward R-rated camp—but not far enough

Holidate is a bawdy start to Netflix’s holiday rom-com slate

Kristen Stewart celebrates the Happiest Season in a pioneering queer Christmas rom-com

Isla Fisher gets her own Enchanted in the Disney Plus fairy tale Godmothered

Podcast Appearances

Debating Doctor Who: “Orphan 55”

It Pod To Be You: The Wedding Singer

Reality Bomb: Defending Doctor Who’s “Closing Time”

The Televerse: Spotlight on Doctor Who Season 12

You Should See The Other Guy: The Ugly Truth

Only Stupid Answers: Stargirl’s season finale

Motherfoclóir: Ireland and the Hollywood Rom-Com

Called in to Nerdette’s Clueless retrospective episode

Cinematic Universe Appearances

Cinematic Universe: Superman IV: The Quest For Peace

Cinematic Universe: Birds of Prey

Cinematic Universe: Infinity War watchalong

Cinematic Universe: Endgame watchalong

Cinematic Universe: Terminator 2

Cinematic Universe: Josie and the Pussycats

Cinematic Universe: The Cuppies 2020 (Cuppies of Cuppies)

And here are similar year-end wrap-ups I did in 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, and 2013.

#Best Of #Year End #2020

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iobjectfa20 · 3 years

Photo

This painting is entitled Napoleon Leading the Army Over the Alps, painted in 2005 by American painter Kehinde Wiley. It comes from Wiley’s A New Republic exhibition in the Brooklyn Museum. This is possibly my favorite piece from the exhibition, though it’s a tough choice because they are all beautiful paintings. In this exhibition, Wiley reimagines famous master portraits, particularly those of famous subjects such as Napoleon, recasting the subjects as modern black models — many of which are strangers to him that he approached randomly on the street. This particular painting is a reimagining of Napoleon Crossing the Alps by Jacques Louis-David, dated 1805.

How & Why I Chose This Piece

A friend of mine attending art school told me about this exhibition and I was incredibly excited to look into it. I found that the paintings were beautiful and profound, and decided I needed to share them as my contribution to the I Object! exhibit. As stated before, this painting was my favorite. As an English major, I often find myself studying, praising, contradicting, or otherwise discussing the many “greats” in the world of literature. Every professor and student in the English department can surely provide their personal perspectives on Hemmingway, Twain, Atwood, Shakespeare, and the many other literary “greats” of history. While the department at Simmons has recently opened up its English major requirements to be more flexible and allow for broader and more diverse subject matter in classes, we still in many ways glorify and champion the old “masters”. We forgive the misogyny of Charles Dickens because we love so much his tale of two cities, and we push Ezra Pound’s antisemitism out of mind so that we can enjoy his verse.

In speaking with my friend that attends art school, I find many similarities between our disciplines, particularly in this area. The art world has its own greats, and its own masterpieces which should be looked upon by every person who ever wishes to consider themself an artist in order to fully understand and appreciate art. I know someone who quit art school because her professor told her she could never be an artist. His reason? She didn’t understand Pollock.

It is my opinion that the “masters”, in literature and in art, are not uncriticizable, and neither are their masterpieces. While Wiley’s paintings within the A New Republic exhibition depict famous paintings that I’m sure many art students would recognize, his reimagining of Napoleon Crossing the Alps stunned me; I recognized it instantly. I chose it for the recognition I felt when I saw it, and the joy it brought me upon seeing it. Napoleon Crossing the Alps has always been little more than a painting for me, albeit a famous one. This redirection of a painting that I knew, but had no particular fondness for, amazed me. I liked it better than the original. The original, a masterpiece of the 19th century, something I’ve seen a thousand times, something that would cost an inconceivable amount of money to purchase, has never impressed more than a tiny footprint in my memory. When I looked at Wiley’s piece, though, I knew it was better. Somehow, it felt that the subject was more important than Napoleon, represented more than Napoleon, and was driving a more important moment in history than Napoleon. I wanted to explore why I felt that way, and to discuss it here; especially in case someone else shared my feeling.

This Piece in the Context of Global Resistance / Rejection

While there is certainly lots of merit to objecting to mainstream narratives of classic art and reimagining pieces in a context that rejects oppressive norms, I think there is immeasurable worth in recognizing and appreciating the pieces that exist for the express purpose of resistance — the pieces whose defiance is instantly recognizable, and undeniable. Wiley’s works (especially this piece, in my opinion, though they do all work together to convey a message through the exhibition as a whole) are boldly and proudly defiant, and I think that that is well worth celebrating, so here I will do so.

Firstly, I think that it is important to explore the foundations of this painting, which come from Napoleon Crossing the Alps. In the original painting, Napoleon is situated in the same manner as the man in Wiley’s portrait. His face is calm amidst the context of war, and his arm is raised in such a way that seems to be leading the viewer more so than the troops behind him. His hand is ungloved, which can symbolize transparency, or even an intention towards peace rather than violence. He sits atop the same white horse as the man in Wiley’s portrait; it was common for royalty to be portrayed in equestrian portraits. He appears confident, powerful, brave, and wealthy. Transferring these qualities onto the figure of a black man, especially in this case, a regular black man (that is, not someone who is rich and famous, but simply a man that Wiley approached on the street) is an incredibly bold and revolutionary choice that highlights the strength, determination, and power of black men. For David to paint Napoleon with these qualities could be interpreted as propagandist or pandering (especially since Napoleon never actually led his troops over the alps, but rather took a safer route following several days behind them.) However, the same posturing to portray a man who the viewer is not acquainted with, but now feels like they are, is a revolutionary choice.

When analyzing Wiley’s work, I think some of the most interesting things to note are the deliberate changes that Wiley made from David’s original Napoleon Crossing the Alps. It is glaringly obvious, for example, that the background has changed: the original painting portrays Bonaparte against a dull mountainous background, whilst Wiley’s piece is set against a bold pattern that resembles an expensive French fabric. The painting is bordered by an ostentatious golden frame. These details appear to be somewhat humorous choices on Wiley’s part; in a way he is parodying the imperiousness of the original painting, or paintings like it that similarly glorified monarchical figures. Wiley also included tiny images of sperm throughout the background of the painting — a subtle humorous commentary on the hypermasculinity of equestrian portraiture and famous portraits depicting men, particularly those involved in battle and/or positions of power.

Furthermore, Wiley changed the dress of the subject in this portrait from Napoleon’s royal, old-fashioned garb. The man in Wiley’s portrait is wearing Timberland boots, a camouflage outfit, and a bandana, which present a modern perspective on the militaristic theme of the original portrait. Napoleon’s royal blue coat can also be seen peeking out from under the man’s camouflage shirt, and he maintains Napoleon’s golden cloak. The man’s dress demonstrates simultaneously that he is a regular, modern black man, and also that he is greatly powerful. It is also notable that, while David’s painting contains the names Hannibal and Charlemagne as well as Bonaparte (Hannibal and Charlemagne were both generals who led troops over the alps, thus placing Bonaparte’s name amongst theirs demonstrated that he deserved recognition alongside these men) Wiley includes the name “Williams” amongst these names. Though we have no way of knowing who Williams is, it is a common last name of black Americans, as many names were wiped from history with slavery and enslaved people took on the surnames of their enslavers. It can be inferred that the man in the portrait’s surname is likely Williams, or that Williams is a name that Wiley feels is representative of him. Like Bonaparte, the man in the portrait never led troops over the alps. However, Wiley has likely found him deserving regardless of being placed amongst men who have done legendary things — powerful men that are leaders and changemakers.

This painting definitely made me consider Fanon’s philosophies on violence and decolonization. I found the painting to be something that honors Fanon. The original painting comes from a violent piece of history, and it glorifies one of history’s most famous conquerors of nations on his way towards more colonization. Wiley’s reimagining of the original portrait feels like it is symbolic of the undoing of the original. Wiley’s piece is not without violence — the man in the portrait still rides a warhorse, wears garments associated with war, and gestures as though he is leading troops — however, I believe that the violence of this portrait is a representation of justified, anti-colonialist violence, as Fanon describes. Napoleon has been ripped out of his own portrait and replaced. His clothes have been taken from him and now dress a man whose ancestors were likely ripped from their homes and dragged elsewhere, while the remainder of his ancestral home was colonized by European imperialists in no way unlike Napoleon. The portrait’s humorous subtleties make a mockery of the many royal portraits that precede it. It is an unabashed reversal of colonialism as Fanon describes; it demonstrates what it looks like when “the last become the first.”

When I look at the man in the portrait’s face and manner, I can’t help but think of Fanon. Though Napoleon has the same stature in the original portrait, Napoleon Crossing the Alps sits unfeelingly with me, while Wiley’s piece strikes me like few other paintings could. The man in the portrait, whom I do not know, as he is not famous or someone I’ve learned about in history in class, is looking directly at me, and he is gesturing that I move onwards. It feels as though he is demonstrating the ways in which power must be inverted and destroyed, as though it is my turn to push some entitled white man off his horse, climb on, and join Wiley and Williams on their journey across the alps and towards decolonization.

-Steph P.

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alexsfictionaddiction · 4 years

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Alex Recommends: May and June Books

I must apologise for the late arrival of this post. It should have been up days ago but I’ve been struggling to read much for the last month or so. My head has been very foggy and dark with all of the confusion, anxiety and hate that has been filling my news feeds and I’ve been filled with a desire to combat it. Before this month, I’d have run in the opposite direction from any kind of confrontation but recent events have given me the kick up the butt to actively do better. I’ve been calling out bigotry when I come across it and I’ve noticed that some people, notably my older relatives, haven’t necessarily reacted favorably to the changed, more outspoken Alex. It has been pretty daunting and I’ve worked myself up into fits of rage and tears several times over the last couple of months.

A lot of things have changed for me since my last Alex Recommends post. I’m currently temporarily living in Staffordshire with my boyfriend because my depression got too bad for me to stay at home for much longer. I missed him unbelievably much and I knew that spending some prolonged time with him would help -and it has. Both him and I have spent 12 weeks religiously following all of the rules, so we’re both extremely low-risk for catching and spreading COVID-19 and being together was something that we simply really needed to do. Please don’t hate me for it! In other news, I have also started writing again, which feels amazing. I’m now a few thousand words into a queer Rapunzel retelling that I have lots of ideas for. Maybe I’ll even post an extract or two, when I feel it’s ready to show you.

In the centre of the renewed energy of Black Lives Matter and the undeniable exposure of the horrors that is police brutality, the book blogging and BookTube worlds vowed to uplift Black voices. I wrote a very long, in-depth blog post full of Black-written books and Black book influencers. Please check it out to diversify your TBR and educate yourself on Black issues, which is what every white person should be doing now and always.

June was Pride Month and I tried my best to compile a series of recommendation posts in honour of it. These included gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, non-binary, ace, pansexual and intersex lists. I’ve had some great feedback on this, so I hope you find some fantastic new reads. It felt especially poignant to put them together the same year that one of my childhood heroes came out as an ignorant trans-exclusive feminist. As a lifelong Harry Potter superfan and someone who has repeatedly publicly supported Rowling in the past, I feel the need to clarify where I now stand. I do not support or agree with a single thing that she has said in recent times with regard to transgender people. I’ve never felt my own status as a cisgender female threatened by trans people wanting more rights or believed that children or women were at risk due to their existence.

I read her words more than once and struggled to find any semblance of the woman who wrote the books that have most defined my life. I’m hesitant to say that we can always successfully separate the art from the artist but I will say that it makes sense to me that the Rowling of 2020 is not the same Rowling that wrote Harry Potter. She was a destitute single mother when Philosopher’s Stone was published in 1997 and of course, she is now a million worlds away from that lifestyle. It breaks my heart but it makes sense to me that she has changed beyond belief because her life has changed beyond belief. I’m not and never would make any excuses for her recent behaviour and I have stopped supporting her personally but I will not be getting rid of my Harry Potter books and I will undoubtedly re-read them several more times. However, I am now hugely reluctant to buy any more merchandise or special editions of the books, which saddens me but at the moment, it feels right. There is no coming back for her from this and I will make a conscious effort to keep Harry Potter and Rowling away from my future content. It can be really tough to admit that the people you once really admired aren’t great humans but it’s something that we all have to acknowledge in this case, in order to move forward with our own quests to become our best selves.

It didn’t feel right to post my May recommendations last month as I didn’t feel comfortable promoting my own content in the midst of boosting Black voices. So today I’m bringing you a bumper edition of Alex Recommends. Here are 10 books that I’ve enjoyed since the start of May that I’d love to share with you. Enjoy! -Love, Alex x

FICTION: Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Set in the affluent neighbourhood of Shaker Heights, Ohio in the 1990s, two families are brought together and pulled apart by the most intense, devastating circumstances. Dealing with issues of race, class, coming-of-age, motherhood and the dangers of perfection, Little Fires Everywhere is highly addictive and effecting. With characters who are so heartbreakingly real and a story that weaves its way to your very core, I couldn’t put it down and I’m still thinking about it over a month after finishing it.

FICTION: Get A Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert

When coding nerd Chloe Brown almost dies, she makes a list of goals and vows to finally Get A Life. So she enlists tattooed redhead handyman and biker Red to teach her how. Cute, funny and ultimately life-affirming, this enemies-to-lovers rom-com was exactly the brand of light relief that I needed this month. The follow-up Take A Hint, Dani Brown focuses on a fake-dating situation with Chloe’s over-achieving academic sister and I can’t wait to get my hands on that.

FICTION: The Rearranged Life of Oona Lockhart by Margarita Montimore

Just before her 19th birthday at midnight on New Year’s Eve 1983, Oona Lockhart finds herself inexplicably in 2015 inside her 51-year-old body. She soon learns that every year on New Year’s Day, she will now find herself inside a random year of her life and she has no control over it. Seeing her through relationships, friendships and extreme wealth, this strange novel has echoes of Back To The Future and 13 Going On 30 with a final revelation that I certainly never saw coming.

NON-FICTION: The Five by Hallie Rubenhold

Atmospheric and engaging, The Five details the previously untold stories of Polly, Annie, Elisabeth, Kate and Mary-Jane -the women who lost their lives at the hands of Jack the Ripper. Full of fascinating research and heartbreaking accounts of what these women’s lives may have been like, Rubenhold paints a dark immersive portrait of Victorian London and gives voice to these tragic silenced lives. Although we can’t know for certain if these accounts are entirely accurate, they feel very plausible and in some ways, The Five exposes how little time has moved on, when it comes to the public portrayal of single, troubled women.

NON-FICTION: Unicorn by Amrou Al-Kadhi

From a childhood crush on Macaulay Culkin to how a teenage obsession with marine biology helped them realise their non-binary identity, Unicorn tells the story of how the obsessive perfectionist son of a strict Muslim Iraqi family became the gorgeous drag queen Glamrou. Packed full of humour, honesty and heart, this book will give you the strength and inspiration to harness what you were born with and be who you were always meant to be.

MIDDLE-GRADE: The Super Miraculous Journey of Freddie Yates by Jenny Pearson

When fact-obsessed Freddie’s grandmother dies, he discovers that the father he has never met may actually be alive and living in Wales. So he has no choice but to grab his best friends Ben and Charlie, leave his home in Andover and go to find his dad! I laughed so many times during this madcap adventure and I know the slapstick crazy humour will hit the middle-grade target audience just right. It’s also a wonderful depiction of small town Britain with a focus on the true meaning of family.

MIDDLE-GRADE: A Kind Of Spark by Elle McNicoll

When Addie learns about her hometown’s history of witch trials, she campaigns tirelessly to get a memorial for the women who lost their lives through it. This wonderfully beautiful novel gives a unique insight into the mind of an 11-year-old autistic girl with a huge heart. Busting myths about neurodiversity while tackling typical pre-teen drama, you’ll laugh, you’ll cry but most of all, you’ll close the book with a huge smile on your face.

HISTORICAL FICTION: Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell

In 16th century Warwickshire, Agnes is a woman with a unique gift whose relationship with a young Latin tutor produces three children and a legacy that lasts for centuries. This enchanting, all-consuming account of the tragic story of Shakespeare’s lost son, the effects that rippled through the family and the play that was born from their pain will send a bullet straight through your heart. Wonderfully researched and beautifully written, Hamnet is worth all of the hype.

HISTORICAL FICTION: The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

When a vicious storm kills most of the men of Vardø, Norway, it’s up to the women to keep things going but a man with a murderous past is about to come down with an iron fist. At the heart of this dark tale of witch trials, grief and feminism, two women find something they’ve each been searching for within each other. Gorgeously written with a fantastically slow-burning queer romance, Kiran Millwood Hargrave’s first adult novel is an addictive, atmospheric read with a poignant, tearjerker of an ending.

SCI-FI: Q by Christina Dalcher

When one of Elena’s daughters manages to drop below the country’s desired Q number, she is sent away to one of the new state schools and Elena is about to find out something she’d really rather not know about the new system. Packed full of real social commentary and critique of life as we know it while painting a picture of how things could be even worse (yes, really!), this pulse-racing, horrifying sci-fi dystopian gripped me from the first page and refused to let me go.

#book recommendations #recommended #recommendations #may #june #books #bookworm

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ikesenhell · 5 years

Text

Decorate Time

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: I realized when @angstprincessnaga mentioned it that I haven’t written anything significant for Sasuke in QUITE SOME TIME. Have this as penance.

He liked music. He liked music just fine, honestly, though he couldn’t say that the brief time he’d spent in band class had done much more than provide him hours of daydreams for what he could do with a bit of force, a tuba, and various objects. Lab work never was the right space for it. Certainly, they had a small bluetooth speaker that they’d cobbled together a protective shield for, but he’d certainly never used it. There was serenity in the silence.

In that sense, the Sengoku wasn’t so unnerving (though sometimes everything was too silent--he’d never realized how accustomed he was to elevator music). Wind and the bubbling streams and the echo in mountain passes didn't bother him. Quiet was a friend of his.

Sasuke embraced it.

Four years of that sort of stillness, and she interrupted it in the way that only she could: on accident. They’d stolen a moment together in Azuchi when she turned and grinned at him.

“Guess what I’ve got.”

Sasuke couldn’t guess, so he didn't. “Tell me.”

Triumphant, she wriggled an iPod from her purse and wriggled it at him. “It still has battery.”

He blinked. After all these years of its absence, his brain struggled to reacclimate to the idea that, yes, Apple as a company existed. “Does it? What do you have on there?”

She laughed and shook her head, rubbing her thumb across its screen. “Honestly, I’d wiped it and was going to upload a bunch of new music when I moved here. I only really had stuff to listen to on the plane--relaxing music, that kind of thing.”

“You don’t like heights,” he noted aloud, more monotone than he meant. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“I miss just listening to things,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the screen. Sometimes, Sasuke was very glad he’d never taken anatomy. Now was one of those times. The way her body moved made him believe in magic and design. “But I don’t wanna just play it for no reason.”

“No?”

“Nah. I’m gonna save it for something. I don’t know what yet, but it��ll be good.”

He watched her store the device safely back in her purse, sunlight dappling over her hair, brushing the back of her neck with solar fingers. The sight alone had him quoting half-remembered Shakespeare to himself: As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright, that birds would sing and think it were not night...

She was staring at him.

“You good?” She asked.

“Perfectly,” he responded, and wondered if he always heard music around other people. That would be an interesting investigation.

---

Some nights, he snuck out of Kasugayama and Kenshin’s reach to sit alone on the battlements. No one bothered him there. Few saw him. Four years he’d spent doing it, thinking all manner of things--charting the movement of the stars, marveling at the planets, conducting minor investigations or writing notations from the day.

Now he thought a lot about geography and music.

Once he’d heard it said that art decorated space, but music decorated time. And time! He’d learned so much about it and nothing at all in one. Where the scientist in him fell away and he was left with just himself, just Sasuke, he just sat in awe of its expanse--and the way it separated him from her. That was what lay between them, after all. Distance and time. Azuchi was many miles away, and while the landscape was art enough, the wind wasn’t nearly enough to waste the relentless hours necessary to get to her.

It wasn’t enough. There were so, so, so few and limited hours in a lifetime, moments he could never retrieve or retrace or remake, and here he was, wishing away some of them just to be closer faster.

Sometimes he thought about that iPod. He wondered what she listened to on it, what she considered worthy of spending the valuable minutes of her life enjoying. Was it classical? Did she listen to Mozart, Debussy, Chopin? Was it lo-fi? Sasuke shut his eyes and imagined her humming along. The cool wind swept over his cheek, and he imagined it was her sighing softly against the background of Clair De Lune, or Jeux D’eau, or The Girl With the Flaxen Hair.

He was humming it too.

Somewhere behind him in Kasugayama, a great shout went up from the party he was missing. Sasuke folded his legs together and tuned them out, holding onto a memory of Debussy’s Arabesque and envisioning her under the stars with him.

---

“I want to take you somewhere.”

She peered up from her sewing, the candlelight fluttering low over her cheeks. “Oh? Where?”

He just shook his head and held out his hand. “Do you trust me enough to come anyway? It’s a surprise.”

“Of course!”

In a bundle of hissed laughter and soft feet, they snuck from Azuchi and down through the township--past the cherry blossoms and the shuttered market, past Yuki’s room in the tavern and all the Warlord’s houses, past the walls to the city and toward the lake. Its glassy surface reflected the stars so perfectly that, when they sat on the shore, the line between sky and earth all but disappeared. A silver moon hung over them like a lantern.

But her smile. Oh, that smile put it all to shame. She shivered, and without thinking, Sasuke stripped off his haori and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Thank you.”

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven-- He offered her a small smile and patted the ground. “Shall we?”

Together, they sat in silence. The heavens rotated slowly above them. Sasuke pointed out planets and constellations in whispers, their fingers brushing against one another as they lay, knuckle-to-knuckle on the grass. When she teased her pinky finger out toward him, he linked his without a word. Not that she needed to secure it--he’d been wrapped around her little finger for longer than he liked to admit. Even so it set his soul on fire.

“Oh,” she sighed eventually. “I wish I’d brought the iPod.”

Sasuke blinked and shoved his glasses back up. “Should I sing?”

She blinked right back. “Can you sing?”

“No,” he admitted. “I can’t.”

She belted a laugh. To his heart, it sounded like Gymnopedie no. 1. “It’s okay. I’ve a better thought.”

“What’s that?”

He held his breath as she sat up in the grass, up until her knees nested with his and her chin was level with his and her fingers entwined with his. How could he risk ruining it, especially when he could still hear the soft strains of piano by her will and life alone? Moonlight glanced silver over her mouth.

Sasuke heard himself swallow.

Then her hand was on his cheek, her fingertips against his lips, and he kissed her thumb without meaning to--if only to experiment and discover what she tasted like before it went away. Repeat study is always better, he thought, and as if she heard him, she dipped forward--ah.

Ah, she tasted like music.

Now this--this was how to decorate time.

They parted. Every inch of him craved more--and grace of graces, she tilted back in and sent shivers like shockwaves to his heart. He wasn’t a musical man, but hell, her mouth made him one. When at last she pulled away again, he reached out and dragged his hand over her shoulder as if to affirm she was real in the first place.

“Do you think the iPod might’ve made that better?” He deadpanned.

She giggled. “Not really.”

“Oh,” Sasuke commented, ignoring the desperate urge to fist pump in victory, “Just thought I’d ask.”

Her hair parted forgivingly around his fingers; he carded a hand through and pulled her back in, willing the music of her never to stop.

#Ikesen #Ikemen Sengoku #Ikesen Sasuke #my writing #Sasuke Sarutobi #Decorate Time #fluff

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wemadeacrosswhereourshadowsmet · 5 years

Text

David Berman - Self-Portrait at 28

I know it's a bad title but I'm giving it to myself as a gift on a day nearly canceled by sunlight when the entire hill is approaching the ideal of Virginia brochured with goldenrod and loblolly and I think "at least I have not woken up with a bloody knife in my hand" by then having absently wandered one hundred yards from the house while still seated in this chair with my eyes closed. It is a certain hill the one I imagine when I hear the word "hill" and if the apocalypse turns out to be a world-wide nervous breakdown if our five billion minds collapse at once well I'd call that a surprise ending and this hill would still be beautiful a place I wouldn't mind dying alone or with you. I am trying to get at something and I want to talk very plainly to you so that we are both comforted by the honesty. You see there is a window by my desk I stare out when I am stuck though the outdoors has rarely inspired me to write and I don't know why I keep staring at it. My childhood hasn't made good material either mostly being a mulch of white minutes with a few stand out moments, popping tar bubbles on the driveway in the summer a certain amount of pride at school everytime they called it "our sun" and playing football when the only play was "go out long" are what stand out now. If squeezed for more information I can remember old clock radios with flipping metal numbers and an entree called Surf and Turf. As a way of getting in touch with my origins every night I set the alarm clock for the time I was born so that waking up becomes a historical reenactment and the first thing I do is take a reading of the day and try to flow with it like when you're riding a mechanical bull and you strain to learn the pattern quickly so you don't inadverantly resist it. II two I can't remember being born and no one else can remember it either even the doctor who I met years later at a cocktail party. It's one of the little disappointments that makes you think about getting away going to Holly Springs or Coral Gables and taking a room on the square with a landlady whose hands are scored by disinfectant, telling the people you meet that you are from Alaska, and listen to what they have to say about Alaska until you have learned much more about Alaska than you ever will about Holly Springs or Coral Gables. Sometimes I am buying a newspaper in a strange city and think "I am about to learn what it's like to live here." Oftentimes there is a news item about the complaints of homeowners who live beside the airport and I realize that I read an article on this subject nearly once a year and always receive the same image. I am in bed late at night in my house near the airport listening to the jets fly overhead a strange wife sleeping beside me. In my mind, the bedroom is an amalgamation of various cold medicine commercial sets (there is always a box of tissue on the nightstand). I know these recurring news articles are clues, flaws in the design though I haven't figured out how to string them together yet, but I've begun to notice that the same people are dying over and over again, for instance Minnie Pearl who died this year for the fourth time in four years. III three Today is the first day of Lent and once again I'm not really sure what it is. How many more years will I let pass before I take the trouble to ask someone? It reminds of this morning when you were getting ready for work. I was sitting by the space heater numbly watching you dress and when you asked why I never wear a robe I had so many good reasons I didn't know where to begin. If you were cool in high school you didn't ask too many questions. You could tell who'd been to last night's big metal concert by the new t-shirts in the hallway. You didn't have to ask and that's what cool was: the ability to deduct to know without asking. And the pressure to simulate coolness means not asking when you don't know, which is why kids grow ever more stupid. A yearbook's endpages, filled with promises to stay in touch, stand as proof of the uselessness of a teenager's promise. Not like I'm dying for a letter from the class stoner ten years on but... Do you remember the way the girls would call out "love you!" conveniently leaving out the "I" as if they didn't want to commit to their own declarations. I agree that the "I" is a pretty heavy concept and hope you won't get uncomfortable if I should go into some deeper stuff here. IV four There are things I've given up on like recording funny answering machine messages. It's part of growing older and the human race as a group has matured along the same lines. It seems our comedy dates the quickest. If you laugh out loud at Shakespeare's jokes I hope you won't be insulted if I say you're trying too hard. Even sketches from the original Saturday Night Live seem slow-witted and obvious now. It's just that our advances are irrepressible. Nowadays little kids can't even set up lemonade stands. It makes people too self-conscious about the past, though try explaining that to a kid. I'm not saying it should be this way. All this new technology will eventually give us new feelings that will never completely displace the old ones leaving everyone feeling quite nervous and split in two. We will travel to Mars even as folks on Earth are still ripping open potato chip bags with their teeth. Why? I don't have the time or intelligence to make all the connections like my friend Gordon (this is a true story) who grew up in Braintree Massachusetts and had never pictured a brain snagged in a tree until I brought it up. He'd never broken the name down to its parts. By then it was too late. He had moved to Coral Gables. V five The hill out my window is still looking beautiful suffused in a kind of gold national park light and it seems to say, I'm sorry the world could not possibly use another poem about Orpheus but I'm available if you're not working on a self-portrait or anything. I'm watching my dog have nightmares, twitching and whining on the office floor and I try to imagine what beast has cornered him in the meadow where his dreams are set. I'm just letting the day be what it is: a place for a large number of things to gather and interact -- not even a place but an occasion a reality for real things. Friends warned me not to get too psychedelic or religious with this piece: "They won't accept it if it's too psychedelic or religious," but these are valid topics and I'm the one with the dog twitching on the floor possibly dreaming of me that part of me that would beat a dog for no good reason no reason that a dog could see. I am trying to get at something so simple that I have to talk plainly so the words don't disfigure it and if it turns out that what I say is untrue then at least let it be harmless like a leaky boat in the reeds that is bothering no one. VI six I can't trust the accuracy of my own memories, many of them having blended with sentimental telephone and margarine commercials plainly ruined by Madison Avenue though no one seems to call the advertising world "Madison Avenue" anymore. Have they moved? Let's get an update on this. But first I have some business to take care of. I walked out to the hill behind our house which looks positively Alaskan today and it would be easier to explain this if I had a picture to show you but I was with our young dog and he was running through the tall grass like running through the tall grass is all of life together until a bird calls or he finds a beer can and that thing fills all the space in his head. You see, his mind can only hold one thought at a time and when he finally hears me call his name he looks up and cocks his head and for a single moment my voice is everything: Self-portrait at 28.

#david berman #poem

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lazulifoster · 5 years

Text

An Unexpected Visitor (Loki X Reader) Part 2

Prompt: Sex by The 1975, Million Dollar Man by Lana Del Rey, and If I Never See Your Face Again by Maroon 5 feat Rihanna

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Swearing; angst; arguing; mild sexual content

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: Inspiration from my Spotify Playlist again lol I think I say this every time I post something but sorry if its a slow burn, I actually have a lot of ideas for this fic but I like a slow build ;) Hope you enjoy part 2 if there are typos, from the bottom of my heart, my bad :)

Brief Summary: Loki and you dated back in college before he up and vanished. You have moved on with your life, even started a family, but an unexpected visitor makes his way back into your life.

||5 years earlier||

“Shall I compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.” “Loki…” “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out, even to the edge of doom.”

Loki.” “…by heaven, I think my love as rare as any she belied with false compare.” “LOKI! I’m going to fail this quiz if you don’t shut up and quit reciting Shakespeare!” “Oh, hush, love. There is no reason to study, anyway. You know all the answers already.”

“I just want to double check and make sure. Because last time this happened, I practically failed my quiz.” “I seriously doubt you’re capable of failure, Y/N. Besides, your beauty alone deserves to be glorified at every waking moment.” “ Oh pleeease, your flattery won't work this time.” “Won’t it?” Loki leaned in close to me, placing gentle kisses along my neck, causing my will to study to wane dramatically.

Loki then pushed my notes and books of my bed, and we both rapidly undressed, making me completely forget about my upcoming quiz.

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

“You better start fucking explaining yourself, Loki!”

I began a feeble attempt to reel in the myriad of thoughts flooding my mind. My emotions were a chaotic blend of utter confusion and absolute joy. Loki was here, in the flesh; holding me, kissing me, and telling me we belonged together.

I had pictured this moment so many times over the years, and nothing was happening like I had imagined it. But as much as I missed Loki and secretly yearned for his over the years, reality slowly crept in. Loki was gone far too long to go without explaining himself. I needed answers. Lots of answers.

“My love, I promise you, I will explain everything, but this is hardly the time or place—” “Oh no, no, I am not playing games with you Loki! The “time and place” is right now! You’re the one who left and decided to just randomly show up out of nowhere!” My voice cracked, and I forced myself to hold back more tears, annoyed at myself for getting emotional again.

“I need to know what happened to you, Loki. You owe me that much.”

I could see Loki felt guilty. I knew that behind his devil-may-care attitude and playful demeanor he felt awful for deserting me. I started to feel sorry for getting heated with him again. The Loki I knew would never just leave without a legitimate reason. But suspicious thoughts kept lurking in my head. He’s just trying to manipulate you. I shook the feeling aside, I already had too much to think about. I reached up and rubbed my hand through his beautiful black hair.

“I’m sorry, Loki. I’m just—I don’t know, there is a lot to take in.”

Loki gave a slight grin, placing both of his hands on my waist.

“As much as I’d love to chat with you about everything that's happened, darling, your mum has prepared something for dinner that smells absolutely delicious, and it would be a shame to let all her hard work go to waste.”

I gave a slight chuckle. Loki was right. If I wanted to know the full story, it would be best to wait till my parents and ex weren’t around. Also, I hadn’t eaten all my food at the restaurant with David, so I was actually quite hungry as well.

“Fine. But this isn’t over.” I reminded Loki. He nodded and leaned forward and gave me a soft peck on my forehead before both of us walked in the house. Neither my mom, dad, or David noticed Loki had ever left; still speaking with his illusion.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Mom asked suspiciously

“Oh yeah—um—no I didn’t.” I stumbled over my words like a nervous school girl. Keep it together.

Rachel waddled up to me babbling what sounded like, “Mama.” She wasn’t really speaking yet, but her little attempts always made me so proud. I picked her up off the floor, and she looked around at us five adults standing around talking. Rachel’s eyes met Loki’s, to which Loki made a silly face at Rachel, causing her to laugh loudly. The brief moment between them made me and my parents chuckle. Seeing Loki interact with Rachel made my heart melt; it was almost too adorable for me to handle. The sweet moment ended abruptly however when I looked over at David and saw an irritated scowl cross his face. Knowing David’s temper, I cleared my throat to break the building tension.

“So…what did you make for dinner, mom?” “Oh, just some roast chicken with mash potatoes and Brussel sprouts, nothing fancy.”

“A regular feast, I cannot wait to try, Mrs. Y/L/N.” Loki smiled

“Well, come on in the dining room then, we don’t want the food getting cold.” Mom began ushering us to the dinner table.

“I already ate,” David interjected.

Mom, still walking away, yelled behind her, “Well I guess you can go home then, David.”

My dad laughed from the dining room at my mom’s sassy comment, making David looked at me and whispered, “What the hell?”

"It’s ok, we’ll talk later. I’ll text you.”

David gave me an annoyed look but decided it would be better to leave before he left my parent's good graces entirely. David gave Rachel a quick kiss goodbye and made a quiet exit.

When David left, all of us inadvertently let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Finally got him out of here, goodness gracious,” Dad grumbled.

“Dad, can we not…”

“I just want a relaxing family dinner with all of, it’s been too long.” Mom was beaming. Sometimes I wondered if mom loved Loki more than I do.

Did.

My mind was still an absolute whirlwind. Barely an hour ago, David and I were at dinner, talking about our daughter’s future and reconsidering where our relationship stood. Then I see Loki’s car in my parent's driveway with his stupid “God of Mischief” vanity plates, next thing I know were kissing, uprooting so many feelings I had pushed down over the last 3 years; and now Loki was eating dinner at my house like we had years ago. My emotions were a constant ebb and flow or fury, and affection One moment, I suppressed every urge I had to cause a scene and demand answers from Loki. The next, I wanted Loki to take me in his arms again and to pick up where we had left off. I still couldn’t comprehend how someone who I spent almost every day with since I was 18 to just suddenly vanished. I mean, I knew about Loki being a god. I knew about his brother, Asgard, and the Avengers. I didn’t know everything, but he had told me bits and pieces and opened up to me over the years. I also knew he would have to leave occasionally concerning “family squabbles” and things concerning the Avengers, but he would always let me know ahead of time and would even send his illusion to check in on me.

The leading theory I had settled on for Loki leaving was I thought I scared him off because of the last conversation we had. Petty, I know, but I couldn’t think of anything else it could possibly be.

I remembered every detail about our last conversation, probably because I played the moment repeatedly, trying to figure out what went wrong.

It was almost the end of the semester. Loki and I were in a local coffee shop, close enough to the college to walk, but not close enough where it was bombarded by other collegians studying for finals. Loki was actually helping me study for my other classes besides literature. I was studying for a freshman world geography class, an easy elective I took to boost my GPA. We had both ordered our drinks (Loki drank an Italian roast, black, and I had a cortado.)

While he was helping me study the countries of the Eastern Hemisphere, I looked up at him.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married? Or have kids?”

While Loki took a sip of his coffee, his eyes quickly shifted to me.

“I mean, one day. I’m not saying to me—or anything—um, I was just curious. Plus I’m bored of studying.” I gave an awkward laugh, trying to hide my cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson.

Loki bit his lip and tilted his head up and looked off in the distance. I felt like I could actually see wheels turning in his head. Then he spoke.

“I honestly cannot answer that.”

“Oh…”

“Well, I don’t know, truthfully. Marriage seems so, arbitrary to me. Especially, as a god, time means nothing to me, but to Midgardians, time is so precious, so you decide one person to spend that time with until your dying breath. So if I were to marry an Asgardian, I would be tied to them for possibly, millennia. And if I was to marry a Midgardian, they will have already lived a quarter of their life. I’ve been alive far too long and have learned there is no point in getting attached to something I cannot keep.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly that it almost brought me to tears. Was that all I was to him? A mere mortal with 25% of my life over. I felt foolish for thinking I could be more to him than a Midgardian “friend with benefits.”

Pretending not to be hurt, however, I nodded nonchalantly as I listened to his rant and took a sip of my drink. He continued.

“I could see myself having children though, one day.”

“So you can’t see yourself getting married, but you can see yourself having children? Alrighty then.” I laughed, accidentally letting my hurt feelings slip into my reply.

“Do you see a problem with that, love?”

“No, not at all, to each his own. So kids huh?” He looked at me and gave me a rueful grin.

“I would love to give my children the childhood I always craved.”

I gave a sympathetic groan and reached out for his arm and gave him a gentle squeeze. I didn’t want to press the issue further. I knew how sensitive he was about the subject. After a few moments, Loki spoke again, looking directly into my eyes.

“Did you ask me that, because I am someone you would want to marry?”

My eyes inadvertently widened and swallowed a little harder than necessary. I felt a little uneasy because Loki refused to break eye contact with me.

“Honestly, Loki…” I felt instant nausea from my nerves.

“Yes?”

“You are someone I want to marry. Why wouldn’t I? You’re amazing, you’re well read, you’re kind, but more importantly, you’re my best friend, of course, you’re someone I would want to fucking marry! I don’t care if I’ve ‘lived a quarter of my life’ already if you love someone you choose to love them no matter what!” I spoke a little louder than I intended too because a few coffee shop patrons turned their heads toward our table.

Loki chuckled at my obvious embarrassment. I gave an awkward half-smile and placed my hands on my face as if trying to wipe away my blushing cheeks. Loki grinned at me and brushed a few strands of hair away from my face before he spoke again.

“Well, darling, I am very flattered.” He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Now how about we get back to studying? You need to do well on your exam.”

The quick change of subject confused me for a second before I agreed with him and I began to study for my exam again. After a while, I was ready to go call it a day. Loki offered to give me a ride home, but I initially declined and told him I’d walk; partly because that day was uncharacteristically mild for winter and I wanted to enjoy the lovely weather; also I was extremely embarrassed about the conversation we had inside the coffee shop. But Loki insisted that he take me home and I, not in a mood to argue, I caved. The car ride was awkward, neither of us said anything the whole trip which generally wouldn’t be all that unusual, but because the conversation did not go as planned on my part, I felt that maybe I had crossed the line. When Loki finally reached my driveway, he parked his car and looked at me.

“Y/n, I want to apologize if what I said hurt you. Please don’t misunderstand me, I care for you deeply. I may not know what the future holds but what I know for certain is that you belong to me, and I belong to you, no matter what happens.”

I smiled at him, exhaling a breath I held in the whole car ride; thankful for his reassurance. Loki and I never had any labels in our relationship which was alright for the most part because I knew he cared for me, but every once in a while it was nice to hear him tell me how he felt. Even if he did think marriage was just a quirky Midgardian tradition. But one part of what he said caught me off guard: ‘No matter what happens’”? What does that mean? Ultimately, I shook it off as me being too analytical and leaned in to kiss Loki.

“I love you too, Loki.”

I stepped out of his car and waved back at him, “See you tomorrow!”

He waved back at me and drove off. That was the last time I saw or spoke to Loki.

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

Dinner with Loki and my parents went as well as expected. The meal mom prepared was delicious, Rachel only threw half of her food on the floor, and mom and dad bombarded Loki with questions.

“So where have you been, Loki? We were starting to worry about ya.” Dad said, giving Loki a pat on his back.

“I have been rather busy with work, I’ve done a little bit of traveling, and also spending time with my family.”

I rolled my eyes. I swear to god he better not lie to me like that when he accounts for the last few years.

“Well, it’s good to have you back, Sweetheart.” Mom cut in, “Will we see more of you?”

Loki looked over at me when he answered, “Yes indeed. I’m not going anywhere as long as I can help it.”

I rolled my eyes again, trying to hide the smile forming on my lips.

Once dinner was over, leftovers and dishes put away, My parents said their “goodnights” and left for bed. I also excused myself for a brief moment, needing to get Rachel ready for bed. Before I carried Rachel to her room, Loki reached for Rachel’s little hand, “Goodnight little love, thank you for showing me all your toys this evening.” Rachel babbled incoherently and gave Loki a smile showing all the teeth she had.

“I think somebody likes you” I smirked, “Say ‘thank you Loki for playing with me’”

Rachel babbled again while Loki lowered himself to her eye level, giving her his undivided attention.

“Well, it was my pleasure, Rachel. Have pleasant dreams.”

I left and tucked Rachel into her little bed, and she fell asleep shortly after. As she slept, I stared at her for a moment before heading back to the living room. I thought about how adorable Loki was with my daughter. Interacting with children seemingly came so naturally to him. I also wished that David would be the same way with Rachel. He was a great father in that he worked hard to provide for her, but that was the only way David showed he loved her, especially after we parted ways. David wouldn’t play with her, and would hardly make time to spend time alone with her. He blamed work for not being around Rachel as often as he should. David worked for his father’s law firm. Influential attorneys defending the most guilty and the richest. I know Rachel was far too young to understand the nuances of a father/daughter relationship, but whenever David would walk past her or halfheartedly acknowledge her, I could see in her little eyes, that it hurt her.

I made my way back to the living room and saw Loki sitting on the couch, waiting for me. He stood when I re-entered the room and made his way toward me.

“I should probably get going, I know we could all use a restful nights sleep.”

“We still need to talk—”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Loki gently interrupted, “Why don’t we meet in the morning for breakfast, we can go anywhere you want to go.”

“Well, my parents can’t watch Rachel tomorrow, they both have something they have to go to, so if we go anywhere, Rachel will have to come.”

Loki’s face lit up, “That sounds delightful! We shall make a day out of it then.” His hand reached down placed his palm on my face like he had earlier. This time I didn’t swat him away, instead, I wrapped my arms around him. I missed feeling his body against mine. Loki pulled me in closer and rested his chin on top of my head.

Sadly we were interrupted by my phone vibrating. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw a text from David reading: Hey, we need to finish talking when you get a chance. We couldn’t with that guy hanging around. Text me back ASAP.

I groaned. Loki peaked at David’s message and scoffed,“‘That guy’? Charming.”

“You have no idea,” I replied, more to myself than Loki.

Loki’s face turned concerned, “What do you mean?”

“Ugh, he’s just—sometimes he’s a dick, but otherwise he’s alright. He makes sure Rachel is taken care of, so that’s all I care about.” Giving me a dubious look, I reassured Loki that I was fine and that David was just annoying sometimes. Reaching for my hand, Loki made his way toward the front door.

“Well, I better go, love. I look forward to spending the day with you and Rachel.” Loki pulled me close and kissed me on the lips before closing the door behind him. I peeked out the front window and saw him stoop down into his car, rev his engine, and drive off. What have you been up to, Loki Odinson?

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

David, back at his penthouse apartment, reclined in his Eames chair, sipping away at bourbon and fiddled with his phone. He had searched the name “Loki Odinson” over and over on Google but only found references to Norse Mythology.

Who the fuck is this guy?

David exited his Google Search and began scrolling through his contact list until he found the name, Darren. He pressed the call icon and waited for him to answer.

“Hey David, you’re up late.” “Darren. I have a favor to ask.” “Anything Chief, what do you need?” “I need you to look into someone for me, the name: ‘Loki Odinson.’”

“You got it, boss. I’ll see what I can find.”

Darren ended the call, and David went to his iPhone photo album. He scrolled through his pictures until he found an old picture of Y/N.

This stupid bitch better be careful. She’s gonna get her heart broken all over again.

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