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kumeko · 4 years ago

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A/N: For @giyushinozine! I wanted to tangle with Shinobu’s growing feelings, the complicated mess of her not knowing how she feels only that their relationship isn’t the same as it was before.

…

It was raining. Standing on the threshold of an abandoned house, Shinobu breathed in the earthy air as she watched the steady downpour. Not even the birds and insects wanted to be caught in this weather, and Shinobu missed their usual song. Instead, she was serenaded by the soft plip as rain hit the hole-filled roof, the pitter-patter of droplets as they struck the earth.

This wasn’t the first storm that had caught her unawares. It probably wouldn’t be the last. If anything, a dilapidated building was better than the caves she’d hidden in before. There was no point in risking a cold by heading to the town proper and searching for an inn.

Well, there was one point. Shinobu grimaced as she looked over her shoulder. Barely visible in the gloom was Giyu. Suddenly she found herself longing for a damp cave. Maybe she could even just keep heading home; what was a feverish week in exchange for a couple of hours worth of peace? Getting trapped with Giyu was the worst luck. It had been off-putting running into him while returning from a mission, but spending the night with him?

The rain was looking more and more tempting. Shinobu stared at the dark clouds one last time before stepping back with a sigh. If she got sick and a demon attacked—she shook her head, refusing to entertain the idea any further. She could put up with Giyu until the rain stopped, at least.

Steeling herself, she turned around. The house was a small one with a simple layout. The biggest room was this first room, featuring a sunken hearth and space around for its occupants to huddle. Water leaked into the house from several sizeable holes in the ceiling, but luckily none were near the firepit. Unfortunately, while Giyu was sitting next to the hearth, he hadn’t actually started a fire. Hand on her hip, Shinobu tried to keep her irritation out of her voice as she asked, “Where’s the fire?”

He looked at her, a sleepy expression on his face, and shrugged. “It isn’t there.”

“I can see that.” Shinobu bit her cheek. This was just minute one. She had to at least make it to an hour before giving up. “Whyisn’t there a fire?”

“I didn’t start it,” he answered simply.

Maybe Kanao would visit her in jail. Shinobu gritted her teeth and quickly strode toward the center of the room. “This is why no one likes you. It’s common sense to start a fire when it’s cold.” Ignoring his surprised flinch—and honestly, why did that surprise him? He should know how everyone felt by now—, she knelt by the hearth and inspected the coal there. Oddly shaped and crumbly, they were at least dry and would hopefully kindle. “Otherwise we’ll get sick and the last thing I am doing is carrying you back.”

Giyu didn’t say anything, just watched as she pulled out her tinder. His eyes were barely visible in the half-light. At night, it would be impossible to see him at all. While that was preferable, she didn’t want to break her neck walking around this place in the dark. Luckily, it didn’t take long for the fire to take. The flames flickered to life, a thin curl of smoke rising to the roof. Immediately, the warmth hit her skin and she sat a little further back, letting the heat remove the chill from her bones. She sighed, “That’s better.”

He kept quiet. Soon, the crackling flames were the only sound in the room as they greedily gobbled up the remaining coal. Idly, Shinobu glanced at her companion. She could count the number of times she’d been alone with him with a single hand, maybe two. It was odd. They’d worked together for so long, but she’d never really thought of him before now. Maybe it was his lack of presence or the way he isolated himself. Even now, with no one around but the two of them, he kept to himself, his eyes trained on the fire.

Shinobu had never considered herself someone who needed conversation. She liked silence almost as much as she liked chatter, liked how doing nothing could sometimes be utterly comfortable. This was neither of those things. Feeling awkward and slightly unnerved, she wondered how she should break the silence. The shadows danced across his face in strange patterns. She kept adjusting her posture, her legs falling asleep as they waited, yet he hadn’t moved an inch.

In the end, she didn’t have to. Her stomach gurgled hungrily, and Shinobu immediately wrapped an arm around her waist as a mortified blush burned her neck. She snapped her attention to Giyu. Their eyes met and any hopes she had that he hadn’t noticed vanished. “I…” she mumbled, her brain running in circles as she tried to find an explanation that kept her dignity.

“Hungry?” Giyu asked.

“Yes,” she reluctantly admitted. Somehow, an hour had passed since they’d taken refuge. Even now, the rain didn’t let up, the droplets drumming on the roof as the night took over. Shinobu prided herself on her preparation, but she had planned on arriving home hours ago.

Something crinkled and she watched as Giyu pulled out a leaf-wrapped bundle. Holding it out, he offered, “You can have some.”

“I don’t need—” Her indignant response was immediately cut off as her stomach grumbled yet again. The hot blush on her neck crawled up her cheeks and there was no escaping this now. Flustered, she quickly got up and moved next to Giyu. As she sat down, her hand out to take the food, she growled, “You tell anyone about this and you’re dead.”

Confused, he cocked his head. “Why?”

She wasn’t sure if that was ‘Why would I tell anyone’ or ‘Why would I die’. She also didn’t care. How could she ever look anyone in the eye if they knew that Giyu of all people was more prepared than she was? Shaking her hand insistently, she snapped, “Does it matter?”

Giyu gave her a long, blank stare before slowly unwrapping his bundle, revealing three large onigiri. “No.”

Somehow, even when she got what she wanted, Giyu still frustrated her. What did he think of it all? Did he care? He had thawed since their last, but changes with him were as subtle as erosion on a rock. It didn’t help that he was as dense as one. Fighting down her irritation, she plucked one of the rice balls from his hand. The very round rice balls—Giyu took the ‘ball’ part literally it seemed. Still, maybe it tasted good.

A single bite dashed her hopes: the food was as tasteless as he was. Resisting the urge to gag at its blandness, she asked, “Do you know what salt is?”

“Yes.” Of course his expression remained utterly placid as he ate. Bite after bite, his face was as still as a lifeless pond. Maybe his taste buds had died long ago. Noticing her stare, he held out the last ball. “You want another?”

She couldn’t stop the grimace. “I can barely handle this one.” There was no point in nuance or tip-toeing around a matter with him. If Shinobu didn’t bluntly state it, he wouldn’t get it. “Did you make this? It’s terrible.”

“Terrible?” Shocked, he looked at the ball, then back at her. It was like kicking an ugly puppy.

“Yes, terrible. You can’t serve this to anyone.” Shinobu rolled her eyes. “How did you mess up something so simple? Even I can do this.”

“Oh.” Looking utterly devastated, he stared at the rice ball. It was impressive how broken he looked, even though his expression didn’t change much.

“Just add salt next time,” Shinobu relented, already tired of insulting him. Like this, he reminded her too much of Kanao when she’d first started learning things. Kanao. Her mind wandered to the Butterfly Estate, to the five girls waiting there. Well, perhaps four now that Kanao had her own duties. Aoi would be worried. She always worried too much. “She won’t like this,” she muttered, half to herself.

Still chewing on his riceball like a hamster, Giyu shot her an inquisitive look. “Who?”

She hadn’t intended to say that aloud. Another clumsy mistake in front of him. Maybe she should just bury him under the wisteria trees; they needed the nourishment. Reticently, she mumbled, “Aoi.”

He only looked at her, perplexed. Shinobu longed for the good old days when she didn’t care about anything. Louder now, she repeated, “Aoi. I’m late from the mission, she must be worried.”

“She isn’t,” Giyu replied immediately.

It took her a full minute to process his response. Gritting her teeth, she asked politely, “Why not?”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he stated flatly with the absolute assurance that only a complete moron had.

Last Shinobu had heard, there was another water pillar in training. They wouldn’t miss Giyu’s absence for long. Curling her hand into a fist, Shinobu glared at him. “This might be a foreign concept to you, but some people actually care about others.”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what about him made her so angry. It couldn’t just be his rudeness—Sanemi was twice as rude and she didn’t want to murder him at every encounter. No, it had to be something deeper than that, but she didn’t want to waste her thoughts on it, on him. Focusing instead on her nails digging into her skin, she forced herself to calm down.

Now that her appetite was appeased, however badly, she listened to their surroundings once more. The rain tapped unevenly on the roof, the storm abating slightly. Unfortunately, it was still rain. She was still trapped here with him. Resigning herself to her fate, she shifted to get more comfortable one. “Even in this weather, a demon might come. We’ll have to take shifts,” she announced, rubbing the back of her neck.

Giyu nodded his agreement.

When he didn’t say anything else, Shinobu added irately, “I’ll take first watch.”

Once more, he merely nodded. Rude, lacking manners, utterly unreadable—Shinobu didn’t know how it was possible to find only new disappointments with a single person. The only thing he had going for him was his slightly above-average looks, and even that was ruined the second he did something. Fine, whatever, she thought. It wasn’t like she could sleep comfortably, knowing the only thing between her and death was him.

Leaning forward, she stoked the coals once more, embers flying as she gathered the broken rocks together. “Make sure this doesn’t disappear when it’s your turn.” Satisfied, Shinobu sat back and stretched her arms above her. Maybe she should take a walk after this and smooth out the crinks in her back. “I’ll wake you up in four hours.”

“Okay.” Crossing his arms, Giyu buried his hands in his sleeves. His eyes remained open.

“You know you can sleep, right?” she asked, just in case he didn’t understand what a ‘watch’ meant. The other pillars didn’t like him, after all. Maybe he’d never gone on a mission this long with someone other than her.

“Yes,” he nodded, his eyes still wide open. There was nothing about his stiff posture that looked like a man about to sleep.

It wasn’t worth pursuing it any further. She refused to go bald from the stress of dealing with him. And if he didn’t trust her abilities enough to rest, well, he was the one who wanted to pull an all-nighter.

Making herself comfortable, Shinobu rested her cheek on her hand as she watched the coals. It was going to be a long, uneventful night. Even demons didn’t like coming out on nights like these. In the distance, she heard an owl hoot, the rustling of leaves, the chirping of crickets. The rain almost washed it all out, a steady static noise. It had been too long since she’d had an uneventful night like this.

An hour passed. Then another. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she observed Giyu’s profile. He was just as hard to grasp from his side as he had been from the front. Maybe he’d be a mystery to her for her entire life. Tired as she was, that didn’t sound entirely bad.

“You’re strong,” he said, breaking the silence. She wasn’t sure if she was still in her watch or part way through his now.

Drowsy, she retorted, “Of course I am.”

“You’re strong,” he repeated, as though she hadn’t said anything. “So no one has to worry about you. The strong…” he paused. She could feel the weight of it. “The strong come back.”

She didn’t have to ask if that was personal experience. There was only one reason anyone joined the corps, after all. Still, Shinobu wished she was sitting across the fire, still able to see his expression. Or even just was more awake than she was now. His voice had a flavour to it. She could only imagine what he looked like.

Her eyes closed. Opened. Closed again. The next time Shinobu was aware of her surroundings, there was a warmth behind her head and a strong arm around her shoulders. Giyu’s, her fuzzy mind provided helpfully. She should be disgusted, but it was warm and comfortable, so she’d allow it just this once. His breathing was even, as always, and she fell asleep once more to the sound of his heartbeat.

When Shinobu woke up the next morning, she was alone. Curled up on the ground and a jacket covering her shoulders, but utterly alone. Rubbing her eyes, she slowly sat up and glanced around. Sunlight filtered through the holes in the roof, illuminating the place. There wasn’t hide nor hair of Giyu anywhere. It felt almost like a dream, though if it had him in it, it had to be a nightmare.

The only proof that any of it happened was his jacket on her shoulders, keeping her warm. It fell to her lap in a crumpled heap as she straightened up. Gingerly, she picked it up between two fingers, eyeing the fabric distastefully.

What, exactly, was she supposed to do with this? Returning it felt like a loss. Shinobu glanced at the hearth in front of her. She could still burn it in there; even if the coals were gone, there was plenty of dry wood in this house.

She bit her lip, studying the jacket once more. Part of her could still feel the warmth of his shoulder, hear his quiet voice. Shinobu couldn’t return it, couldn’t destroy it. Couldn’t figure out exactly what riled her up about this man. It’d be easier if she didn’t care or was truly as disgusted by him as she acted.

Sighing, she folded the damned fabric. If she couldn’t figure out what to do with it now, she’d just have to keep it until she did.

#giyushino #tomioka giyuu #shinobu kochō #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #fanfic

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yukisohmasmokesweed · 4 years ago

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I recently watched 1x10 for the pod and realized just how much of a peek-behind-the-curtain episode this is for Shigure. The episode does a great job breaking down Shigure’s motivations, agenda, and objective as well as exploring some of his morality and self-perception in a really subtle and nuanced way. I wanted to break down what exactly was said in the episode and what the subtext is showing us about who Shigure is and what he wants: an obsessive man who puts his selfish desires first, always, all while trapping himself deeply within the very curse that he is trying to break.

Motivation: The Dream

Each zodiac’s curse manifests in different ways. For example, Yuki experiences the curse through the lens of social isolation and self-blame, Kyo through familial rejection and projected blame, Hatori through resignation and grief, Ritsu through extreme guilt, etc. Shigure’s manifests as obsession.

This dream was something special to all of them, but it soured over time. The anime implies for Hatori that it was because of Kana,

but I believe that was the last straw in a haystack of crushing oppression for Hatori (see: having the ability to erase memories and being expected to carry out the task no matter who it hurts by the family as a whole, Akito, and his father, who also had this power). As for Ayame, he does not fit in with the Sohma’s traditionalism and conservatism and he never attempted to do so, and as an adult he has done everything he can to divorce himself from the Sohma image—going into a non-traditional and arguably taboo field of work, moving away from the estate, and keeping secrets from the family, even his own brother. Kureno is a special case and Ritsu was too young to remember this. For Shigure though, he became obsessed with this feeling, and because he didn’t have the bad experiences Hatori had growing up or chafe too hard against the family culture like Ayame, it became a life-long obsession that, over time, shifted from chasing that “feeling” to chasing Akito as an individual.

A note about the Dog: The Year of the Dog’s defining trait is loyalty, but they are also notably stubborn. This doesn’t speak to the authorial intent (Takaya added the zodiac aspect to the story late in the game, after their characters was set), but I also think that Shigure being the Dog is a great indicator as to why, out of everyone, Shigure’s curse manifests as obsession, and why he’s in love with Akito despite Akito’s treatment of him, the other zodiacs, and other people as a whole.

Agenda: Emotional manipulation

Shigure believes that the curse has weakened over time. The dragon was apparently not always a seahorse, which implies that the magic is weakening, and this is the first time in a long time where all of the zodiacs have been alive at the same time. Due to this as well as their closeness in age and the agitation present between Akito and the zodiacs, Shigure thinks that this is the curse’s last hurrah before breaking.

Shigure wants to speed up the process by exacerbating what he believes to be an already unraveling curse by turning the zodiacs against Akito, showing them that their lives have meaning and potential outside of the curse, and influencing them to start questioning the narrative around the curse as a whole as well as the ones around each of their individual zodiacs.

The curse’s most obvious effect is the physical one, but the emotional component is arguably much more significant. This is why Shigure is agitating the zodiac’s emotions. He often says things he knows will hurt them, but instead of hurling insults like Akito, what he says challenges the zodiac’s beliefs about themselves, one another, the curse, and Sohma family as a whole. He is aiming for their internal lives and beliefs in a way that makes his meddling seem almost invisible; he manipulates through influence instead of force, orchestrating it so that the zodiacs feel as if they have come to a new conclusion on their own. Here is how 1x10 shows us that tactic:

Shigure is trying to push Kyo into realizing that his feelings for Yuki are more influenced by the Sohmas than he thinks they are (implication of the word “duty,” that it’s not something Kyo chose for himself), and that if he takes a step back from the situation that he might see that him and Yuki have more in common than he thinks (”afraid of getting to know him”).

However, this doesn’t work, and it’s directly because Shigure has known who he is and what he wants since childhood. He has never had to struggle with his own personhood, identity, isolation, and blame the way that Kyo has—not to say that he hasn’t at all, but not to the extent of the Cat. Shigure logically knows why Kyo hates Yuki, but he can’t put himself in Kyo’s shoes because their experience with the curse are too different; Shigure fully embraced the curse, falling into obsession over it and making the choice to permanently attach himself to Akito, and that decision is rewarded for the most part. Kyo, on the other hand, has spent his entire life being rejected and ostracized by his family as well as being scapegoated for things he had no control over. Kyo’s issues with blame and isolation are not something that Shigure can empathize with, leading him to get frustrated with Kyo’s stubbornness and pushing Kyo too hard before he’s ready. All in all it’s not bad advice, but Kyo’s issues run extremely deep, and Shigure got impatient. This scene is Shigure messing up, indelicately going to the heart of the matter because his timeline of events is moving slower than he bargained for, and he accidentally shows his hand because of it.

Objective: Akito

Shigure’s objective is to be on equal terms with Akito and pursue a real relationship with them. The only way to do this is to break the curse, freeing Shigure from Akito’s power and taking Akito’s command over him away, as well as undermining the importance of the other zodiacs in Akito’s life.

The anime does a nice job portraying this to us subtextually by visually juxtaposing the relationships that are the main focus of this episode:

Tohru lowers herself to meet Kyo where he is, whereas Shigure positions himself physically above Akito. The former is a relationship built on equality and mutual trust, the latter one on an inherent and unavoidable power imbalance, resulting in jealousy, toxicity, and a constant struggle for power.

At first glance the shot of Shigure and Akito would imply that Shigure is the one with the power due to their positioning, but it is Akito who has the power. Akito doesn’t stand up to greet him, simply expecting Shigure to come to them and bend at the waist to accommodate their position. Shigure tries to assert his power here by being physically larger and looming, but Akito is so confident in theirs that they wordlessly watch as Shigure does the exact thing Akito wanted.

Morality: Always looking out for #1

Shigure’s goal is a selfish one, and he has leaned into that completely. He is gloatingly self-aware, which allows him to further his plans without any moral qualms in the way.

The inner circle of the Sohma family has a strong culture of pervasive cruelty. We see it over and over again—Kyo’s treatment by the people around him, Haru’s, Yuki’s, Hatori’s, Rin’s, etc etc. Cruelty is extremely normalized within the family, and you can see even in this fairly casual conversation that Shigure and Hatori take shots at one another (other scenes where this happens between them include 2x7, 2x25, off the top of my head). The line of what is deemed “acceptable” in a larger societal sense is much farther for the Sohma family, and this greatly influenced Shigure’s sense of morality and decency. He is intelligent enough to know that hurting others is wrong, but it’s what has been modeled for him his entire life and something he’s participated in before for various reasons. Hurting others is normal for him and of a small blip in his radar in the grand scheme of things.

Shigure’s morals are warped, but he is also extremely intelligent as well as in touch with his emotions. He is aware that if Tohru gets hurt that it will hurt him in turn, both because she is an outsider whose life he is playing with and because he can’t help but care about her (which is what makes her so good for his plans), but his end goal is overall more important to him than his or anyone else’s emotions in the moment.

Self-perception:

All the other zodiacs hold some level of resentment towards Akito and the curse, but Shigure doesn’t resent Akito. He resents the curse because it’s standing between him and a real relationship with Akito, but not Akito themselves. Since childhood, Shigure has been unapologetically obsessed with Akito, and the power of that obsession and the intensity of the bond has led Shigure to live a one-track life, disregarding the pain of people close to him to feed his own selfish desires, going so far as to willingly dirty Tohru, an outsider and a child, to enable his plans. The others live in misery that has been forced onto them; Shigure picked his poison and never plans on letting it go.

Conclusion: Shigure is a nasty little man

1x10 is an excellent look into Shigure’s inner life and ultimate goals. It very clearly shows us that he is motivated by a love that was initially the pure love of a child-turned-dark and desperate. His motivations are selfish, his actions hurtful and oftentimes callous, and his morality twisted by both the family culture and his own doing. This episode does an amazing job juxtaposing Shigure’s unique relationship with the curse against Kyo’s as two ends of the extreme: the former is trying to break the curse so he can have an individual, the latter desperate to be included in the curse so he can find acceptance from the group. Shigure is an underhanded character who very rarely says what he wants outright, but the subtext of this episode is full of great little moments to spell out what Shigure’s game is and how he plans on winning it.

#shigure sohma #fruits basket #fruits basket 2019 #fruits basket reboot #fruits basket meta #meta???#takes a huge bong rip

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chatonne-rousse · 4 years ago

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Through a Different Lens

This incredible work of art by @lilianmorganart crossed my dash last week and has lived rent-free in my head since then. I made it my phone's wallpaper and found myself getting emotional every time I picked up the phone to use it (If that doesn't confirm my stratospheric level of unrepentant Adrienette trash, I don't know what does).

I told @tsuki-chibi about it and we discussed how Adrien would totally swoon over it, too, if it was the lock screen on his phone. And that's how this fic was born.

I hope you enjoy this little relationship study through Alya's eyes as she and Nino share life and love alongside their best friends.

Read it on Ao3 here.

*****

"Last set of the night, dudes and dudettes. We're about to be upstaged big time." Nino points out the bank of windows toward the already-glittering Eiffel Tower before needle meets vinyl and the music starts, soft and undeniably romantic. "Let's wind it down by slowing it down."

A blue balloon flutters to the floor beside Nino's feet as he hops from the DJ platform and winds through a sea of his classmates to his waiting girlfriend. Alya wastes no time wrapping him in her arms and pressing a kiss to his lips, turning the greeting into dancing with the sway of her hips that he matches after a few beats.

"How many songs did you line up?" she murmurs when they finally part.

He smiles and winks at her. "Four. It's about fifteen minutes till fireworks."

"Mmm. Nice."

The back of his shirt is sweaty under Alya's hands, but she doesn't care. The lovely chignon Marinette had pulled her hair into before the party has come a bit undone and she can feel the damp curls at the back of her neck. That's July in Paris for you; even the air conditioning in Le Grand Paris doesn't make much of a difference. Thank goodness for the ceiling fans that make the white and blue and red streamers rustle above their heads.

She hears Nino snort softly near her ear. "Are they magical or something? How do they still look perfect?"

Alya doesn't need to turn to know he's talking about their best friends, but she twists anyway, pressing the opposite cheek to Nino's shoulder instead.

And of course he's right.

She's spent the evening drinking punch and giggling with Marinette, shimmying and whooping with her in a happy little clump with Nino and Adrien, making the rounds of friends and food and fun over the past few hours. Marinette and Adrien have, too, but somehow the only sign that it's the end of the evening is that Adrien has loosened his tie.

Marinette's hair falls across her shoulders in the same soft cascade Alya styled it into hours ago. Her gauzy white dress drapes better on her figure than it did on the mannequin in her bedroom. Even the corsage Adrien had presented to her when the girls descended the stairs into Marinette's living room, a stunning red rose in full bloom, sits perfectly on her slim wrist, not a petal out of place. Her best friend really does look like she's limned in magic.

But perhaps that's because of the strong hand splayed at Marinette's waist, pressing her ever closer to her dance partner, or Adrien's cheek at her temple, his blond halo a perfect contrast to her deep raven hair. Maybe it's whatever he's just whispered in her ear that makes her smile up at him, a wide grin of exasperated fondness lighting her face before gentling after a moment into an expression of softest serenity.

Alya's first thought is that it's like the bright and beautiful partnership of the full moon reflecting the sun. But that isn't quite right, because her best friend glows from within, providing her own light to meet Adrien's, radiant and returned in equal measure.

Just how they got to this point remains as baffling to Alya now as it was a year ago when her friends finally put themselves and everyone around them out of their misery and started dating. The blushes continued and the occasional shy stammers never quite disappeared, but she'd watched them blossom together like a spring garden before her eyes, though what she'd been sure would be daffodils had bloomed into beautiful irises instead.

Suddenly Mr. Sunshine had gleamed brighter than ever, his giddy joy nearly uncontainable. So many puns. So much laughter. The former would be unbearable were it not for the latter, which always seemed to brighten Nino's eyes as well, a welcome side effect.

And oh, her best friend had come alive. It was more than having someone to love and love her in return. Alya knew from the day they met that love was second nature to Marinette. It practically shone from her pores.

But this was different - a touch more boldness, a blaze of fierce protectiveness in her eyes, an ability to read and respond to Adrien's emotions in just the way he needed, just when he needed it. How did she know to do that? How had this easy familiarity grown between them so quickly, not a tender new sapling but already an unshakeable oak?

She knows the truth is deeper than what she's been able to wrangle from Marinette, but Alya learned long ago that her best friend held those cards too close to ever let her get a peek. But she sure had tried at the beginning.

"You can tell me, girl! I'm so happy for you, but I don't get it! What happened?"

Alya wheedled, needled, begged.

Marinette just smiled and finished watering her roses before leaning against the railing of her terrace.

"I did tell you! Adrien and I talked. We were honest with each other. That's it." She shrugged one shoulder before her smile turned sly and she bumped her hip into her best friend's. "You know, we can't all find love by getting trapped in a panther cage by a superhero. Not every relationship has an epic origin story."

"Damn right! Seriously, though, I can tell there's more to this. There are deets you're not sharing, and your bestie needs those deets!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Als. I just...saw him. All of him."

Alya just barely resisted the urge to make the obvious joke.

"Mari. My love. My best friend in the world. What could you possibly see now that you haven't seen in the past two years of crushing, staring, memorizing, obsessing, and finally just getting over your fears and becoming real, actual friends with him?" She ticked off each point on her fingers, ending with a grip on her pinky and an imploring look she hoped would coax a detail or two from her all-too-cagey best friend. "If you can't throw a bone to your BFF, think of me as the coordinator of Operation Secret Garden and its many, many, many side missions. At least tell me one thing about Sunshine that I don't know, something you didn't know before, either."

Silence fell over them like a blanket. Just when it started to feel stifling and itchy, Marinette spoke.

"He's the bravest person I know," she said quietly, gaze straying across the rooftop horizon.

Alya thought of the myriad times she'd watched Adrien run away in the direction of his house as she herself had run toward danger in the name of journalism and morbid curiosity. He was sweet and exceedingly kind, but she'd never considered him a bastion of courage. Though of course there had to be lots of things she didn't know, details of life at home beyond the isolated loneliness they were all aware of, things that hadn't occurred to her that her best friend now saw through a lens of love and not just friendly compassion. If the reason they were already so close was because Adrien was able to share the difficult parts of his life that he didn't even share with Nino? Well, Alya could understand and respect that.

She reached out and covered Marinette's hand in hers. "His dad is kind of the worst, isn't he?"

"Oh my gosh, you have no idea. The absolute worst. The other day..."

Listening to Marinette that day, Alya had decided that if her friends were happy, she'd be happy right along with them. The details would come in time.

They'd taken silly selfies in Marinette's mirror as they got ready earlier this evening. They'd posed for portraits in the Dupain-Chengs' doorway as though this was a gala event and not a Quatorze Juillet party that Chloé insisted was fancy dress, and snapped shots of their BFF squad together all evening. So without thinking, Alya reaches for her phone - her dress is a Marinette original, of course it has pockets - to document exactly how besotted their preternaturally beautiful best friends are. She grabs three photos in quick succession, thankful for her state-of-the-art camera as she smiles at how it captures the play of light and shadow across their matching white.

"Paparazzi," Nino fake coughs in her hair.

Alya grabs his butt with her free hand in retaliation, and they both laugh.

Marinette and Adrien sway together in a loose approximation of a dance, eyes closed, just barely turning in place, lost in each other. When Adrien reaches for Marinette's hand on his shoulder, Alya has to let go of her boyfriend completely to set her camera to burst mode, but laid-back, ever-patient Nino just huffs a laugh and holds her waist tighter. It's all worth it when she's able to capture the moment Adrien brings Marinette's hand to his lips and presses a series of slow, reverent kisses to her knuckles. She snaps one more photo after he's tucked their clasped hands beneath his chin and settled her against his shoulder.

Alya turns in the circle of Nino's arms and gleefully scrolls through the vast number of pictures she's just taken, pausing near the center of the burst shots and cooing with delight at the treasure she finds. "Oh my god, Nino, look." She shoves the phone under his nose and his eyes cross trying to focus on it.

"Damn. They're too pretty to be real."

She snorts. "Truth. Seriously, though. Have you ever seen two people more in love? I'd say it's gross, but I could also cry just looking at them."

Still smiling, Nino pulls their hips together again and sets them in a slow spin, punctuating the beat with his fingers at the small of her back. Alya pockets her phone and cuddles up to him, grinning into his chest when he speaks quietly for her ears only.

"You know I love you just as much, right? I'm not a model, and um, I'm not as...gooey. But—"

He's cut off when Alya presses her lips to his to stop him.

"You're just the right amount of gooey, mister, and I don't need a model when I've already snagged the hottest guy I've ever met." She delights in his blushing cheeks as she kisses him again. "And yes, I know you do...I love you, too. Thank god it's not a competition, or we'd be losing."

"Naaah," Nino drawls softly, hugging her close. "I've already won."

Alya just closes her eyes and hides her grin in his shoulder, letting him spin them again as the music swells.

*****

Packed on the balcony and ready for the fireworks to start, she and Marinette are giggling over the photos on her camera roll from the course of the evening.

"I don't want to think about how much you pay for cloud storage, Als. You know you have a problem, right?"

Nino can't help his surprised laugh, but has the good sense to bite his lip and look away. Alya nudges him in the side and rolls her eyes good-naturedly. Scrolling through toward the latest photos, she stops on one in particular and flips the screen toward her best friend.

"Bet you're glad I got this one, eh, Mademoiselle Judgy Pants?"

Alya knows she's scored a direct hit when Marinette's eyes widen and her cheeks pinken visibly even in the ambient light of the city. In the same moment, Adrien breathes an "ooooh" in reverent awe from over her shoulder as he stares at the glowing phone screen. Impossibly, the look on his face as he takes in the image is even more tender than it is in the photo itself.

Marinette turns to press her burning cheeks to his chest and he wraps her in his arms, props his chin on her head and mouths, "Send me that, please," to Alya, gesturing vaguely from her phone to his pocket.

Request received loud and clear, she grins and gives him a quick salute.

When fireworks finally fill the Parisian sky, Alya attempts a few action shots, though she's well aware that fireworks photos rarely turn out. Next, she grabs a great picture of Nino with the lights reflected in his glasses that immediately gets posted on Instagram.

And when Marinette stands on her tiptoes, wraps her arms around Adrien's shoulders, and kisses him breathless, well, Alya can't resist snapping one last photo of her friends. Adrien's hair positively gleams in the ephemeral glow of the bright red firework that bathes flushed cheeks and white fabric in a dreamy, perfect pink. This one is sent straight to her best friend; she looks forward to the keysmash text of embarrassed delight she'll receive from Marinette later.

Nino's hand slides around her waist to pull her close and she snuggles into his side, stowing her phone in her pocket and simply enjoying the moment.

*****

"Babe," Nino whispers under his breath, accompanied by a nudge of his knee against Alya's under the cafe table, "he's doing it again."

Sure enough, Adrien is gazing down at his phone. It's not even unlocked yet - he's just looking at his lock screen, waking it up each time it fades back to sleep.

"I know. That's why I'm looking up the movie time. We'd miss it completely if we left it to Sunshine."

"This is technically your fault. You do know that, right?"

Alya shrugs. "No regrets."

Marinette returns to the table, picking her purse off the back of her chair and lifting the strap over her head to settle in its perennial position across her torso. Instead of sitting down, she wraps her arms around Adrien's chest from behind and leans down to kiss his cheek. "Did you figure out if we can make it to the movie?"

The question is clearly directed at Adrien, who was supposed to be looking up the cinema schedule, but he's already pocketed his phone and turned his head to nuzzle into her hair.

Okay, Alya may have some regrets.

It's been months since she took the now-famous photo and sent it to him. To no one's surprise, it became his lock screen wallpaper immediately. It also became a distraction.

Because Adrien melts every time he looks at his phone.

No one can truly decide if it's exasperating or endearing, but there are classmates and friends in both camps.

Nino begged him to change it back to the picture of the two of them together, if only to shorten the time between sending his best friend a text and receiving one in return. Alya is nearly at her limit for heart eyes, but she's still the captain of Team Endearing. She did take the picture, after all.

Max programmed Markov to recognize each time Adrien reached for his phone and the time it took for him to unlock it and use it. Markov has perfected the algorithm over time and now has a saved log of each occurrence down to the millisecond. There's no real reason to track this data besides curiosity, but it does help Markov refine his processes, so Max has kept it up. It is vaguely fascinating, though he does feel that it's a terrible use of Adrien's limited free time.

Nathaniel illustrated a cartoon rendition of Adrien, phone in his hand and literal hearts in his eyes. Alya offered him €10 for it, but Adrien himself came in at €20 and now it sits on his desk at home.

Once, Adrien spent so much time gazing at the lock screen that he never did answer his ringing phone. Of course it was Nathalie calling, and of course his father grounded him when he got home.

(Neither Marinette nor Adrien seemed as bothered by those two weeks as everyone had anticipated. That mystery remains unsolved.)

When she thinks about it, Alya decides there are worse things than Adrien loving Marinette so much that he has an emotional reaction to seeing the evidence through a different lens.

Alya just slips her phone in her purse and corrals her boyfriend and their best friends. They have a movie to get to and they only have twenty-five minutes.

*****

In time, the picture has found a place on the wall in Marinette and Adrien's apartment - printed on premium photo paper, lovingly matted and framed. No one would have expected any less.

And it has always made Adrien smile, sometimes when nearly nothing else could.

*****

Several years, several revelations, and enough trauma to last a lifetime have led them all to this moment, on this day that shines with as much joy and light and love as they can muster. It's what a day like this deserves, after all.

With too much behind them to call it a beginning and too much hope for the future ahead to call it an ending, Alya decides she's just watched her best friends walk through a door they'd unlocked years ago and finally found the right time to step through together. The path hasn't changed, paved in hurt and heartache and the kind of helpless hope a person chooses when an abyss yawns below and there are no other ropes to grab. But it has always been lit by the glow of an almost unfathomable love, and that's where healing begins, grows, and flourishes.

So here they sit, surrounded by friends and family, in the same room where the four of them had danced all those years ago on a hot July evening. A towering croquembouche waits in the corner and a table full of photos and memories is on display along one wall; that heart-melting photo of the happy couple as lovestruck teenagers has pride of place in the center.

Clad again in radiant white, Marinette is the perfect picture of a blushing bride, and her groom has been unsurprisingly entranced all day. Alya isn't sure Adrien has stopped smiling since they first saw him this morning, and she and Nino are enjoying every moment of it.

Part of the brilliance shining in his grin is natural, springing from a heart so innately kind that it has countered evil and wielded destruction, yet still beats with compassion. But she and Nino know, better than anyone else, that the Adrien in front of them is a previously-shattered vase mended in gold, stronger and more beautiful in the broken places, and some of his gleam is reflected from those gilded seams.

When it's Alya's turn to toast, Nino helps her to her feet with a smile and hands her the mic before sitting back down beside her. She starts with a story only a best friend could get away with telling, bolstered by the laughter of the guests around her and the grins of the bride and groom. She has a toast carefully planned and memorized, but for all her preparedness, Alya also knows how to improvise. When her gaze sweeps across the picture gallery on the table and the faces of two of the people she loves most, she veers off course but finds her words with confidence.

"I've taken a lot of photos in my life - silly, scary, funny, serious, everything in between. Many of those photos have featured many of you here today. I know I caused my saint of a best friend here a lot of undeserved stress by taking a vast majority of my life's photos in places where I shouldn't have been."

She pauses when a laugh ripples through the room and Marinette shakes her head even as her watery eyes beam back at her. "But I was in just the right place when I took that one." She gestures toward the framed picture on the table, sparkling cider sloshing gently in her champagne flute. "Because the right place for both of us—" she reaches a hand back toward Nino blindly, finding and squeezing his shoulder, "has always been next to you, the most ludicrously attractive, kindest, bravest, best people we know."

Alya takes a deep breath that only shakes a little bit on the exhale. "I'm so—" she blinks and swallows around the lump in her throat. Damn hormones! "I'm so lucky to know you, to love you, and to have been part of your lives and your love story all these years. That's why I wish you nothing less than a lifetime of that kind of love," she inclines her head toward the photo on the table again, "that kind of tenderness and devotion. No one deserves it more than you two, and no one will be happier than Nino and I will to be right there beside you on the journey. So...cheers to the prettiest lovebirds I know, Marinette and Adrien!"

Champagne flutes clink amidst applause and hugs and sniffles.

Her best friends grin at her before turning the same soft gaze toward each other again, just like the picture she took all those years ago that turned Adrien to goo each time he looked at it.

Alya knows now, of course, what she didn't understand back then - that in the same way their wedding today was more than just a beginning, so were those early days of soft looks and fierce devotion that seemed to transcend the blush of new romance. Unbeknownst to their friends, they'd had an ironclad partnership and years of trust in place already. Open eyes and honesty allowed the confluence of several different kinds of love, and it only made sense that the resulting alloy stood stalwart and shone dazzling-bright.

Well, it didn't make sense then, but it certainly does now, even if the luster sparkles through a patina of nicks and dents. After all, even the strongest steel and the brightest gold are refined by fire.

Nino hands her a tissue and presses his palm to her back as she settles in her seat again.

When ever-romantic Adrien reaches for his bride's hand to press gentle kisses across the back of her fingers, Alya can't resist grabbing her phone from the table beside her bread plate. They're a little older but just as beautiful and even more in love, and the photo she snaps captures that perfectly. She smiles down at her phone, pleased, before locking the screen and twisting a little in her seat to place it back on the table, face down.

Alya gets comfortable, rests her head on her husband's shoulder, and simply enjoys the moment.

#adrienette through alya's eyes #alya loves her bff #dj wifi #adrienette #snapshot #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #my writing #relationship study #this is so self indulgent #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

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quazartranslates · 4 years ago

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Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH130

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 130: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XX)

"Because it hurts too much," Qi Leren replied seriously. "But it doesn't hurt now. It doesn't hurt after drinking the antidote."

"Really, that's good." Su He sighed softly and took the antidote to give to Dr. Lu.

"Please look after Dr. Lu, I’ll go back to find Ning Zhou," Qi Leren said.

Su He shook his head: "Well, you should send Dr. Lu back to the Lord's castle first and I will go to the old site of the Vatican first. If Ning Zhou is in trouble, I’m always more experienced than you."

The ground was still shaking slightly. With the death of Witch of Nightmares, the demon energy she had accumulated for so many years seemed to be going out of control. Qi Leren was very worried that her former companion would be in the former site of the Vatican and regretted that he hadn’t bring insisted on Ning Zhou coming back with him - although he knew that Ning Zhou would definitely choose to stay there just in case - but if Ningzhou met any danger…

"Okay, you go first, I'll be right there," Qi Leren agreed.

Su He smiled at him and said, "Don't worry, it will be over soon."

Qi Leren helped Dr. Lu, who was still unconscious: "Yeah, it will be."

Su He nodded to him with a smile, then turned and walked into the darkness.　

　　&&&

The night wind blew quietly through the branches and leaves and the site of the Vatican, which had been closed for more than 20 years, was as quiet as sleeping in a grave.

Ning Zhou went up the stairs, walking the same steps Maria had taken so many times, and headed for the church at the highest point.

Along the way the earth continued to shake, and it became more and more frequent. The scattered demon energy rampaged under the earth's surface, awakening the sleeping birds.

A gust of wind blew and a large number of dead leaves and fallen flowers swept past Ning Zhou. The eagle's voice came from overhead and it circled and landed, throwing a small piece of blue and white petals in Ningzhou's hair. Ning Zhou picked off the petals. The blue and white petals should have been blown from the Garden of the Holy Tomb. He deeply remembered that the petals had fallen on Qi Leren’s lips as he slept, and the memory soaked in the afternoon sunshine was as gentle as a dream... He touched the eagle's head and moved on.

He had never been here before, but when he walked here, his heart was filled with an unwarranted kindness… and a strange fear, as if this was both his holy land and his hell.

The Witch of Nightmares had died not far away and the memento brooch had fallen to the ground. Ning Zhou picked it up. The one-time trap attached to it had been used up, and the debris and ashes on the ground proved it all.

It was just a simple trick, but sometimes winning is as simple as that.

Ning Zhou touched the ward in front of him. This ward set by his mother still dutifully protected the deepest secrets of the Vatican even after she’d left more than 20 years ago. Although it had begun to become fragile because of the erosion of demon energy over so many years, it had still blocked the footsteps of the Witch of Nightmares.

The field memento was once again raised in front of the enchantment of the Holy Nun. Golden ripples flowed away from the brooch and slowly spread out. The enchantment of the highest church of the Holy See began to blur and finally disappeared.

Further down was the cathedral that has been isolated for more than twenty years.

Ning Zhou looked up at the half of the churches that had been turned to ruins, where Maria had killed the Devil.

The black bird on his shoulder let out a cry and NingZhou turned around. From the distant stairs came the sound of high heels on the stone steps, getting closer and closer.

Someone was coming.

The blade rubbed the scabbard as he pulled it out. Ning Zhou stood on the steps and waited quietly for the person to come. The demon's energy, which was left unchecked by the other, came flooding in from the deep night, full of evil thoughts from hell.

A woman wearing a black veiled hat and a black evening dress walked at an elegant pace, and the evening dress inlaid with pearls and precious stones shone brightly in the night. She pushed back the brim of her hat and behind the black veil was a face with delicate makeup and her eyes flashed with demonic brilliance, which was quite different from the ordinary village girl from that year.

"Long time no see," Isabel nodded slightly to Ning Zhou.

Ning Zhou looked at her with a complicated mood.

Deep in the underground palace, Isabel had volunteered to become a witch of the Devil of Fraud and walked onto the altar. However, after more than half a month, she appeared in front of him again but was no longer the ordinary human girl.

The raging demon energy was fueled by numerous killings. She had become a witch completely.

The most terrible thing was, how had she crossed this closed field and come to him? She couldn't have a field memento, so she couldn't enter Maria's field by herself unless…

"To introduce myself again, I am Isabel, the Witch of Jealousy. At the order of my Lord, I came to compete with you." Isabel, wearing black silk gloves, lifted her skirt and graciously bowed to him.

A holy light shone on the knife and Ning Zhou looked expressionlessly at the Witch of Jealousy: "Ning Zhou, the exorcist of the Holy See, is the one who will kill you."

In the dark and silent site of the Vatican, the power of faith and the power of evil suddenly collided in the void and a raging billow of air broke out, where the trees fell and the stone steps broke.

The witch smiled lightly: "I won't let you pass."

　　&&&

After settling Dr. Lu in, Qi Leren immediately left the Lord's castle and hurried towards the former site of the Vatican.

Residents who had been transformed into demons had been restored to their original state. After dawn, these demons would end forever. The night watchmen had also restored their human identities. From now on, they wouldn't have to struggle on every night of the new moon - they had been freed, forever.

As long as they got Maria's memento of destruction, they could reopen this field and let the people who had been trapped here for more than 20 years ago leave.

In the quiet night, Qi Leren's footsteps went faster and faster, and at last he started to trot all the way and soon came to the former site of the Vatican, but Ning Zhou had disappeared and Su He was not here.

Shining his flashlight on the road ahead, Qi Leren walked along the steps to the higher buildings.

The ground was still shaking intermittently, so Qi Leren had to be careful with his steps so as not to fall.

The mountain stone path had broken in front of him into a pit with a shocking width of more than ten meters, and the surrounding trees had fallen down. It looked like there had been a fierce battle here and Qi Leren’s heart went into his throat. Judging from the trees, this was not a remnant left by the demon invasion more than twenty years ago, but was fresh. Although it wasn’t clear whether Su He or Ning Zhou had a conflict with people here, there must be danger ahead.

The space seemed to be distorted ahead, and the deep darkness could not be illuminated by the flashlight. There were no figures, no sound, only pure darkness, frightening and disturbing.

The road was also broken and the Qi Leren hesitated, circling another stone staircase, and soon he came to the cathedral at the top of the hill.

Under the starry sky, this broken church was still majestic. The round stone terraces and all the stone pillars along the road have been broken, but even so as he passed through, he found that these broken walls still exuded holy and solemn beauty.

Along the way, there were all kinds of angel sculptures, some having lost their heads, some having had their wings cut off, and some even having only their legs. They surround the center of the square where there was a disk with a diameter of four or five meters, which seemed to be the base of some giant sculpture. However, there was no statue that should exist on this base, and there was no statue wreckage around it. It was like it had disappeared into thin air, making this group of angels around it extremely lonely in the night.

Going further, half of the church had been destroyed. The front hall was almost completely destroyed. Even the dome had disappeared. After the wind and rain, it had become covered with weeds and shrubs. Qi Leren walked carefully on the weeds, passed through the rows of stone pillars, and came to the stone door of the main hall.

These were two doors that could be pushed away from the center, almost ten meters high. The exquisite reliefs on the doors had been covered with moss, but it was still faintly clear that the reliefs were about the magnificent scenes of wars between angels and devils in heaven.

Behind this door, what could be there?

Qi Leren's hand had been placed on the door. His heart beat faster and his breath was short. He retracted his hand and adjusted himself.

[S/L Data], [Rain-Day Clothes] and [Primary Fighting Skills] have been equipped.

If there was a battle later and S/L skill entered cooldown, he also had the [Countercurrent Sand] item. This exquisite hourglass item could reset the cooling time of one skill card at will. If he still couldn't defeat the enemy by then... He also had the Easter Egg.

There was no need to be afraid, the Witch of Nightmares who was polluting this field was dead. If she still had allies, they should have stopped him on the road.

The ground shook again and this time it felt stronger than before, as if the church was the source of vibrations. What had happened inside, and what would happen if the earthquake continued like this? He couldn't wait any longer…

Once again, Qi Leren put his hands on the cold stone door and pushed forward hard.

Save completed.

To his surprise, this giant door was not as heavy as he imagined. Under his touch it opened almost automatically, fresh air swept forward, his flashlight lit up the marble floor, and Qi Leren looked at the starry sky exposed by the huge collapsed wall of the church. He took a step toward the darkness ahead with his dagger.

A light suddenly lit up in the deep shadows, as if lit by the hand of God.

The darkness was dispelled and the light in front of him became more and more bright until finally it was as bright as day.

Qi Leren looked at the temple in front of him for a while in wait, just in the deepest part of the hall. A huge Maria held a sword high, piercing the flesh of a ferocious roaring black dragon, crucifying it in front of a giant cross.

This shocking scene showed the tragic battle that had occured here many years ago, but this was not the reason why Qi Leren was stunned. After a moment of shock, he looked at the throne belonging to the Pope under the huge cross.

On the throne decorated with reliefs and gems, Su He leaned on one hand and looked on at him with a smile.

His expression is still peaceful and gentle.

Except for those red, evil eyes.

-----

Editor’s Notes: You didn’t think it would end that easily, did you?

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#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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miki-snake · 4 years ago

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Sick of Losing Soulmates

📖: Y/N was never lucky with relationships and lost many soulmates on her way. With her current partner though, she was ready to risk it all.

Or - where y/n is going down on one knee💍

⭕️: mentions of past abusive relationship

🔍: 2.1k+

A/N: inspired by “sick of losing soulmates” by dodie

What a strange being you are, God knows where I would be If you hadn't found me, sitting all alone in the dark

Y/N has been through her fair share of relationships and honestly, she never had a good nose for the right guys. Her last relationship though, was by far the worst. There was no doubt that if she didn’t break out of the hell on that day, she’d still be stuck inside of that dark place. Her last partner was nothing but a manipulative and abusive asshole to her. He gave her bruises all over her body and isolated her from all of her friends. Well, there were still some people who stuck by her side through the horrible time.

What the hell would I be, without you Brave face talk so lightly, hide the truth

One particular friend was also the reason why you got out of that awful situation. Tsukishima has always been a tease with a foul mouth but he was also one of your best friends. Everyone knew about your situation and you still tried to keep yourself together. You forced yourself to smile and laugh, you just didn’t want to show them how you were slowly crumbling underneath your mask. Your friends did try to get you away from the jerk but you just weren’t in the right mindset to go through with it. After some time they just stopped trying to convince you and instead they focused on making your time as enjoyable as possible with them. None of them changed the way they acted towards you and you were glad for that. Tsukishima too, didn’t change and continued with all the teasing and snarky remarks.

But one time, his teasing just seemed to trigger something inside of you and you started to cry in front of him. You couldn’t even remember what it was that he said to you, you just knew that he didn’t mean any harm by that. To say that Tsukki was shocked would be an understatement. He was never the guy that could handle a lot of feeling besides occasional annoyance. You remember how he came closer and didn’t know if he should place his arms around you or if he should say something. So he opted for option c and placed his right hand on your head to pet you.

Your mask was falling in front of him and all he could come up with was petting your head. The gesture alone made you cry harder, but not because you were sad that he didn’t say things like “It will get better soon”. No, your tears were falling because you were so happy that he was there for you. It didn’t bother him that you were falling apart right at the moment, he just waited with you until your tears ceased and not once did he stop stroking your hair.

It was on that day, when you poured out all of your pent up feelings, when you felt like you could finally breathe again. Throughout all your venting Tsukishima never left your side and slipped in one or two comments, letting you know that he was actually listening to you. Once you were done you felt how his hand left your head and grabbed your wrist instead. A soft pull led you to fall into his chest and the smell of strawberries and coffee embraced your body. You two just stood there in the middle of the street, while he held you and you swear you never felt so happy before.

Through Tsukki’s support and encouragement you broke the curse you were trapped in at last. To be honest, you’ve never been so terrified in your life as in the moment you told your fucked up, now ex-boyfriend that you were breaking up with him. He got loud, threw stuff through the room and was coming at you with his hand raised, ready to “knock some sense into you”. Of course, he couldn’t get to you because you actually came prepared. Well, you just told Tsukishima that you wanted to end things and he came up with the ideas to go save and call back-up, just in case. So, when the jerk was pouncing at you he didn’t really get that far because Daichi and Sugawara, also called the y/n protection squad, were bursting through the door to save you. Daichi full on rammed into the idiot and restrained his hands behind his back, while Sugawara was holding up his phone recording everything.

The asshole spewed out more curses and tried to wriggle himself out of Daichi’s grip but there was no chance of escaping when Daichi got angry. There wasn’t much more you remembered from that scene because Tsukishima came to get you out of there as fast as possible.

You never heard of him again and you were very glad about it. It was like you could start all over again and your friends were also happy to see you more often with a real smile on your face. You were slowly healing and getting over your past but that didn’t mean that there weren’t any remnants of your past relationship left on you.

'Cause I'm sick of losing soulmates, so where do we begin I can finally see, you're as fucked up as me So how do we win?

It was hard for you to believe in love again and trusting somebody in that sense became near impossible for you. Well, it wasn’t like you needed to be in a relationship anyway. You had your friends around you and you were content with how things were going. Though, you did long for someone who would truly love you from time to time. The problem wasn’t that you missed someone who would smother you with their love for you, no. The problem was that every time you would imagine someone holding you in their arms, a certain tall blonde guy with glasses plopped up in your mind.

It never occurred to you that you could be in love with one of your best friends and even then, it had to be Tsukishima? Since the day he was there for you when you broke into tears you could feel how something inside of you was changing. You were more aware of his presence and sometimes catched yourself staring at his soft features for what felt like forever. However, you were so sick of losing people and you would never want to lose Tsukishima as a friend, so you did the only thing that came into your mind. You denied your feelings. Though, over time it only got harder for you to run from your emotions, they just kept on getting stronger and you longed even more for his touch.

Slowly it got out of hand and you also started to avoid him, but never think that Tsukki wouldn’t catch up on your little changes. He saw how you tried to put more distance between you two and how you would start to panic when his eyes catched yours. It irritated him to no end because he didn’t understand why you acted so stupidly, so he just took the matter into his own hands.

Yeah, I'm sick of losing soulmates, won't be alone again I can finally see, you're as fucked up as me So how do we win?

One day he had enough of your antics and he cornered you at your locker after your courses ended. You remember how he looked so annoyed and frustrated when he asked you about your suspicious behaviour. You weren’t sure if he had noticed but of course he had to expose you like that. Your face was a blushing mess and you really tried to deny everything he dished out. He blocked you when you tried to flee the scene and he was so close you could smell the faint scent of strawberries again. It was so embarrassing but somehow he got you to stutter out a confession that you tried to escape from the past few weeks.

You didn’t want to lose him as a friend, you didn’t want to be alone again. Still, it was exhausting to avoid him all of the time and you started to feel lonely without his usual teasing. Tsukishima was surprised by your sudden confession but then he gave you a light slap on the back of your head. A whine left your lips and you wanted to complain, though you were cut off by him calling you an idiot.

“And that was the reason you were stupidly ducking your head down, whenever I catched you looking at me?”, his lips held his typical smirk but you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. His hand grabbed your wrist just like back then and tucked you into his chest. You two were just standing there, in the middle of the hallway and embraced each other.

“I like you too, idiot.”

We will grow old as friends, I've promised that before so what's one more In our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end?

You and him have been together since that day, which was now five years ago. You two were living with each other in an apartment and it felt like nothing has changed. He was still making fun of you every chance he got but you’re also the only person who could see him in his vulnerable and soft state.

Back in the days of your toxic relationship you could’ve never imagined yourself being as happy as you are right now. You got into the career you wanted, had an independent life and all of it you could share with your fantastic boyfriend. Back then you couldn’t dream about tomorrow because there was no use for it when you were caged inside that horrible relationship. Today though, was a different story. With Tsukishima by your side you could even imagine the bright future with him as your husband and one or two children around you two. You could hope for what was going to come and the thought of tomorrow would cast a smile on your lips.

Time and hearts will wear us thin So which path will you take, 'cause we both know a break Does exactly what it says on the tin Sure, nothing can be certain in life and you won’t be able to predict the future. What was now your own little paradise could turn into a nightmare by the end of the dawn. Even though there is a chance that you could be wrong about the two of you, it didn’t matter to you anymore. He was the one who held you up when you couldn’t stand on your own and he still was. He still was your save space, where you could let yourself fall and be sure of him catching you. It didn’t matter that there were statistics about how often relationships and especially marriages fail nowadays. You just wanted to think about how there was a chance of you two spending the rest of your life together.

I won't take no for an answer

And that is why you found yourself on one knee in front of your boyfriend of five years, in the living room where you two just finished your weekly documentary friday. You two were clothed in your loungewear, pillows and blankets scattered around the floor and in your hand a simple silver ring with the initials of the two of you engraved on the inside of it.

“Tsukishima Kei, you made me by far the happiest girl on earth for being my boyfriend for the last five years. You gave me so many reasons to believe in this relationship and made me feel like you and I could take on the world if we wanted to. You are my best friend, boyfriend and my soulmate. I used to believe that eventually every person would leave me, it would only be a matter of time. But with you, I dare myself to hope for a bright and fulfilling future that is waiting. I dare myself to hope that this could last against all the odds. I believe that you, my soulmate, are someone I won’t lose on the way to my dream. As I said, you made myself very, very happy back then. And today you could make me even happier with this promise of a future together.”

Without a word Tsukishima slid down from the couch and took your kneeling form into his arms. You closed your eyes and breathed in the familiar scent, your arms circling around his waist while a content smile settled on your lips.

“Of course I’ll say yes...idiot.”

#tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei #kei x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima imagine

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kandyrezi · 5 years ago

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anonymous asked: How would Reficul react to her darling becoming interested in Sin? Or the reverse, Sin becoming interested in her darling? A lovers squabble, the two of them sharing, or something else entirely?

– Yandere!Sin & Yandere!Reficul sharing a darling HCs;

(i deviated from your request a little bit uuu i hope it isn’t too troubling... ; n ; )

- : - : - : - : - : - : -

» Sin is likely the one who ends up finding you first, alone and lost someplace you weren’t meant to be, by which, you won’t have much of a choice when she claims you as her own. The garden of Eden is her domain and that’s where she holds you in her possession. The pentagram world is no place for a fragile human such as yourself and the garden is the most optimal place to keep you safely tucked away. Despite the dread of an unfamiliar, barren place void of life aside from non-sapient animals and plants, Sin isn’t cruel towards you – coming to visit often and talking to you in a soft tone of voice, cooing like a motherly pigeon would over its baby squab.

» Reficul and Sin keep no (crucial) secrets from eachother, so the former knows you exist. After a little while, she would become curious about what you look like, she offers to let her wife’s ‘human lover’ (or a mere pet was more likely) inside their mansion.

» Sin doesn’t want for her human to be frightened, but it might do them good to have some company, or at least tell them a little about herself, since they were so keen on wanting to know of the world she inhabits. You’ve been on good behavior as of lately, so she agrees to it.

» You were certainly an interesting little thing Sin had taken a liking towards; you were headstrong and didn’t quiver before Reficul. She hadn’t really come into contact with humans before. She knew they existed, but didn’t have much of an opinion nor interest in them (beyond the jokesters who attempt to summon her from time to time by drawing the symbol of the pentagram on the ground in red paint and lighting candles around the circle. not that she’d ever bothered actually showing up, but she’s tempted to just to give them a bit of a fright).

» After spending several weeks inside the mansion with only one way to see how it looked like on the outside as tree branches hit against the window of your room due to never-ending atrocious wind and rain, the backyard was surrounded by tall metal gates. You were beginning to grow a little antsy; if you wanted to escape at all, you needed to know more about the world you were trapped in.

» You put on your best performance and politely approach Reficul one day to inquire if you can accompany her on her stroll to examine if everything is in order – anything to get away from the ‘naga wife’s’ constant overbearing doting on you. Reficul thinks it over, then looks to Sin with a silent glance, as if to ask for permission, to which the serpent nods.

» “Of course, but keep them safe for me.” she tells Reficul, “I have a bit of business to attend to with an otherworldly visitor anyhow.”

“An otherworldly visitor? Something of importance?”

“You could say that. Just going to have a bit of chat with her from where we left off yesterday.”

» Sin bids both of her lovers goodbye as they leave the mansion. Before you can take in your surroundings more clearly, Reficul snaps a collar with a tag around your neck that reads, ‘if lost, return to Reficul’ attached to a leash.

» “Can’t have a helpless little thing such as yourself running into any possible dangers. Darling wife would most certainly be upset with me if I didn’t bring her pet back in one piece.” she tells you, yanking along the leash, silently urging you to get a move on, and you compliantly do so.

» It was still drizzling slightly even after it’d rained heavily nonstop, the demon queen brought an umbrella with her to hold it over her head with one of her shadow hands sprouting from her wings. You tried to huddle a little closer underneath to shield yourself from the rain as well, but her steely gaze on you once you accidentally bumped your shoulder against her arm made you halt and keep a respectful distance.

» As you pass by several buildings through the streets reminiscent of Romanesque architecture, you would use the opportunity to timidly ask questions about the world’s history, its inhabitants, precise location, so on and so forth. Some to which Reficul graciously gives answers to at first, though she quickly becomes bored and opts to ignore you instead.

» You were certainly given a few funny and some… rather ravenous looks from some of the demons (the pink-haired girl with spider legs eyeing you making a shiver run down your spine), but you didn’t feel afraid when the devil herself - ironically enough - was at your side.

» “I would certainly pity a creature like you should you somehow have accidentally stumbled in here all on your own. The lot here can be quite a vicious, mean bunch to anyone they deem easy targets; you might as well have a dartboard glued to your forehead.” she tells you, and you can tell she isn’t the type to sugarcoat her words.

» You stand by Reficul’s side as she converses with some of the residents about potential interlopers and how they had already caught two of them. You didn’t pay much attention as you tried to look through the stained glass window of a town hall.

» It goes on a little longer than expected, but eventually Reficul’s dragging you to where you were staying before. Sin hasn’t yet returned once you’re back at the castle and the devil orders you to sit on the sofa and not move an inch until then.

» Hours must have passed by then, you feel yourself beginning to nod off, until you feel fingers gently combing through your hair. Startled, you look behind you to see the serpent had slithered her way over to you without a sound. Her hands are covered in something red, with a few spots at the base of her lower serpent half and there are white feathers stuck at the tips of her hair. Her sclera is fully crimson-colored alongside her irises, yet she’s smiling sweetly as ever, unbothered by the mess covering her, opting to instead ask how you’re liking it here so far.

» It would definitely take longer for Reficul to take interest in someone, years even. You would need characteristics or skills that would impress her in some way – your strong will and perceptiveness to the devil’s own character without coming off as nosy or intrusive might be a good starting point. She thinks you would look cute sitting on her lap as decorative pet while she herself sits on the throne, redirecting all denizens coming to her with a problem over to Lzet. Sin might’ve been correct in her assumption of you being unfit for this world, but the serpent was insistent on not allowing you back to your original world either, almost to a possessive extend. She would end up telling Sin how much you interest her and wouldn’t mind getting to know something – someone rather unconventional.

» Sin would never otherwise share her precious human lover with anyone, but she knows her wife would take good care of her human. Although not the kind of care Sin enlisted. Reficul’s means of showing care were more along the lines of ‘tough love’ kind of concern, where she controls your every movement.

» It’s unlikely the two of them would squabble over sharing a lover, when a solution can easily be reached through compromise. They have always worked as a team and supported eachother through thick and thin. Even if you favor spending time with one of them over the other, the ‘left out’ party still treats you with gentility in hopes you’ll have an equal amount of love to share in the future. How can you not, when the two most powerful creatures in the pentagram world worship you like you’re one of them?

» If you are on good behavior, then Reficul is always content spending time with her lovers and strolling the various worlds. You’ll still have to wear the collar, but she’ll rid of the leash if you promise not to wander off too far out of her or Sin’s line of sight.

» The demon world is so different from the human one and as much as you despise being trapped here, you relish when they bring you along for sightseeing. Your favorite ones so far have been the Star Isle and the Rainbow Isle in the great sea world.

» Mors doesn’t think much of you – so you don’t have to worry too much about him bullying you as he only sees you as the family pet. Though you should probably avoid being too affectionate with either of his parents when he’s nearby. He already has his hands full with one other certain buzzing homewrecker.

» Reficul will teach you basic skills in self-defense and grants you a weapon you can handle, so she won’t need to hover over you all the time, although she’s already made it abundantly clear by marking you so everyone will know the devil’s wrath will befall on them should they harm you in any way.

» If the constant reminder keeps dawning on you and weighing you down about basically being kidnapped and held in confinement far away from your homeland keeps nagging you at the back of your head – it’s nothing Sin can’t fix. Maybe make you ‘hallucinate’ that you no longer have a place to even call home other than with her and Reficul in the castle, manipulate your mind in such a way you’ll be convinced there is no one waiting for you out there.

» Should you misbehave or act out, Sin uses it as an excuse to to dish out the appropriate punishment. Maybe a little similar to Reficul in terms of isolation. The serpent will tie you down with vines in the garden in a little time out, where she leaves you with plenty of fruits to eat when she’s gone. Fruits containing hallucinogenics unbeknownst to you – faces of your relatives and friends back home telling you how glad they are you’re finally gone, insulting you and calling you all sorts of derogatory names.

» Once you’re forgiven of your mishaps, Sin takes you back to the castle. Reficul is the one who notices your reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks and asks, “Have you been crying, little one?” a small nod from you, then “Oh, and why is that?” You don’t notice from the corner of your eye how Sin has been smiling the entire time through your explanation, but Reficul certainly has, but whether or not she knows anything, chooses not to comment on it for the time being.

» Sin tells her wife you already unknowingly accepted the apple from her from the very beginning the first night you found yourself in her garden, the forbidden fruit which will grant you immortality, neither of them will no longer have to fear you withering away from old age.

» Time will tell if you’ll end up being grateful for this blessing (or curse) you’ve been granted.

» Now you were even more trapped than ever before. When one of them would be too busy to keep an eye on you, then the other would take over.

- : - : - : - : - : - : -

(if you want me to make another version of this with darling being reficul’s s/o first with sin becoming apart of the relationship, feel free to shoot me another request.)

#mogeko #funamusea #yandere x reader #reficul (mogeko)#sin (mogeko)#tgg #okegom #deep-sea prisoner #dsp #the gray garden #refisin #reficul #sin #yandere #female yandere #ficlets

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crystalwillow · 4 years ago

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When You’re Ready

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x Casey Valentine (F!MC)

A/N: Hi guys. This is my first time rewriting a chapter as my own short fiction. I don’t see many fanfictions with Rafael and Casey (both male and female MC). I won’t be quoting may lines from the actual chapters because my brain is a mess and I forgot to screenshot a lot of what’s happened recently as I was so emotionally engaged in it all. But I thought it would be sweet to add this into the mix.

Tagging: @kiteplayschoices

--- After they know the cure worked and they’re both awake ---

Casey had just been told by a happy Sienna that Rafael had woken up, and she could go to see him. He’d been asking for her. Happily, Casey made her way to his room, but stopped in her tracks as she heard shouting coming from his room.

“Did you even think of me before you charged in there?!”

“I- No. I didn’t”

“Just as I thought. Goodbye, Rafael. I’m glad you’re okay but... we’re not. In fact there is no ‘we’ anymore. This relationship is over.”

“Sora-“

Casey watched as Rafael’s now ex-boyfriend stormed out of the room, stopping and turning to look at her before heading off through the halls in a rush. Tears stinging his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Casey walked on hesitantly and entered Raf’s room, poking her head in first. Rafael looked up and a smile graced his features. Even though he was still a little pale and clearly dehydrated, to her he still looked as beautiful as he did the first day she saw him. She entered and returned his smile as she sat in the chair beside the bed.

“Hey. Are you okay? I heard.. what happened just now.”

“Oh. ... Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah... Sora was right. I wanted it to work, but... my heart? It wasn’t in it.”

“I see.” Casey said nodding, focusing on a wall before looking back into his eyes. “So... what does this mean for you now? Are you still going to Brazil, or...?”

Rafael looked at the door for a minute. Thought flickering over his face before he focused back on Casey.

“No. No, I don’t think so. I told myself that moving would.... be good for me. A new frontier. But now that I think about it. I think I was just running away.”

He moved his hand slightly, Casey noticed and laced their fingers together and he squeezed lightly.

“I’m going to stay. I need to. I wanted a change, and well.. I got one.”

The two locked eyes and grinned at each other briefly. Casey scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder, Rafael leaning his head onto hers and taking a deep breath. A ghost of a smile crossed his face as they stayed like that for a while. In that moment, a lot clicked into place. One of those things being that his break-up with Sora a few moments ago didn’t hurt like it should have, because he wanted this. He wanted Casey. Then his eyes widened as the final realization came forward. He loves her, and wants to love her for the rest of their lives. But he shook the thought from his mind, forcing himself to enjoy the current moment.

--- Days Later ---

“Dr. Valentine? ... Casey?”

She turned round to face the other person in her room, still in a bit of a daze.

“Hm?”

“I’m discharging you.”

“What? But.”

Ethan stopped her by holding up his hand. “Don’t even attempt to argue with me. I’m happy with your latest test results. I’m sending you home.”

Casey sat on the bed, silent as her gaze fell to the floor. She was scared, though she wouldn’t openly admit that to anyone just yet. Even though she had admitted she was scared of dying, this seemed different to her.

“Can I do normal things again?” she asked numbly

“Yes. You can walk, eat your favourite ice cream, do light exercise. No sexual activity though please, that’s too strenuous. I don’t need you re-admitted.”

He had made his last comment in hope of getting her to smile but it was evident that wasn’t going to work. Sighing, Ethan sat in the chair next to her bed.

“What is it?”

“Can I go to the memorial?”

“I wouldn’t suggest it. Like Rafael, your immune system is still a bit weak. So whilst yes, I am discharging you. I would suggest staying away from large gatherings for a while.”

“Can I see Rafael? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine Casey. Said something about going home to his vovo.”

“His Grandma.” Casey said quietly, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “He loves her so much. The guilt that hit him when we were in that isolation room before he went into his coma...” she trailed off as she remembered that moment. Wishing she could have just had the courage to kiss his lips, even if it was just a light peck. Or just kissing his cheek. She regrets not laying out how she felt before he slipped into his deepened state of sleep.

“Casey?”

She turned her head to look Ethan in the eye.

“You should go and see him. He was asking after you before he left. He wanted to come here but was more concerned about getting to his grandma.”

“He really does love her. I don’t blame him. She must have been worried sick about her poor grandson.”

Ethan hummed in agreement with a tight nod.

“When you’re ready you’re free to go.” He told her as he got up and left the room.

“Dr. Ramsey?” Casey called out. Ethan stopped in the doorway and turned around to look at her.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For looking after me. Helping me recover. You’re a good friend.”

“It was nothing. I wasn’t going to lose you too.”

She smiled at him and he smiled back before leaving. Casey collected her belongings and was soon in a cab on her way to Rafael’s grandma’s house. When she got there, she paid the cab driver and stepped out, slinging her bag over her shoulder and looking at the front door. Before she could even walk up one cobblestone on the path, a short and delighted looking old lady came rushing outside.

“Thank you!” she half sighed, half shrieked as she hugged Casey tightly. Surprise spread onto Casey’s face. Rafael appeared at the door and chuckled.

“Vovo. Let the poor woman come inside first. I’m sorry Casey, she’s a... little excited to meet you.”

His grandma pulled away from Casey, beaming brightly.

“Don’t make such a fuss Rafael! This girl helped save your life! She should be thanked properly.”

Rafael chuckled again, standing up straight.

“Well shall we at least invite her inside?”

“Oh of course! How rude of me. Come in Casey, come in.”

She said excitedly, taking the young doctors hand and pulling her inside past Rafael who beamed at her happily. He closed the door behind them and followed to the kitchen, stopping next to Casey, leaning over and whispering to her.

“Two seconds and she already loves you more than me.”

“What can I say? I’m pretty loveable.”

“Can’t argue there.”

The two shared a smile as Rafael’s grandma turned back to them, with a plate full of pastries.

“Now. You two must be starving. I know for a fact you haven’t eaten since breakfast Rafael.” She fixed him with a stern look. and he grinned back sheepishly, grabbing a delicious looking pastry from the plate.

“Thank you vovo.”

“And you dear? What would you like?”

Casey looked at the plate considering her options. But her face fell, she wasn’t hungry right now, and she felt rotten for not wanting to choose a pastry. They looked beautiful and like a great amount of love had gone into making them. Rafael noticed the shift in her features and smiled softly, squeezing her hand under the table as he swallowed his bite of food.

“Vovo? Why don’t we let Casey rest for a bit first. She’s just left the hospital.”

“Okay. But I’ll leave these here for you two to enjoy. But don’t eat them all, I’ve got friends from bingo coming over later.” She smiled kindly and left the room, heading into a different one just down the hall. Rafael put his pastry down on the table and turned to Casey, a worried frown taking over his features as he took her hands in his.

“Raf?”

“Are you okay Casey? I’ve been worried about you.”

“Honestly? No. I’m far from okay.”

He sighed and pulled her to his chest holding her tight. Casey clung to him as if she was afraid he’d disappear when she let go.

“I can’t even go to the darn memorial. I led two people to their deaths, and I can’t even pay my respects and tell them how sorry I am. And I’m sure sienna hates me. I mean I practically killed the man she wanted to date. Or was dating. Whatever. She’s lost the first person who loved her and showed her how special she was. I took him from her.”

“Hey. Hey. Where’s all of this coming from? You didn’t kill them, Casey.”

“I may as well have done. Just took a knife and stabbed them, or a gun and shot them in the head. I got them trapped-, I got all of us trapped in that room. I could have killed you too. I could have lost you. The man I-” she stopped as a sob escaped her. Rafael sighed and held her close. Rubbing comforting circles on her back as she clung to him for dear life.

“It’s just. It’s not fair! I can understand that Travis may not have cared if he died. That he wanted the senator to pay for essentially being the cause in the death of his brother. But... why not let us go first? Why not let people who were just doing their jobs and saying goodbyes leave? Why did we have to be there? Why did Danny and Bobby have to pay with their lives? If anyone was to die. It should have been me.”

“Casey, no. Don’t talk like that! Please.”

“But it’s the truth isn’t it? I made the misjudgment of just barging in there. I discovered what was going on. I was the main catalyst in getting people hurt and killed. I hear voices. Their voices. They blame me. And they’re right. It is all my fault. It’s my fault Bobby won’t be giving his daughter that car on her 16th. It’s my fault that Sienna and Danny will never ever again go on a date or flirt or just be happy together like they deserved. I’m a monster Rafael. I should have quit when the situation with Mrs. Martinez happened. Not even fought to keep my medical license. It’s clear that I don’t deserve it.”

“What?! Are you mad? Of course you deserve that license Casey. You’re a brilliant doctor. How many people have you helped get on the path to recovery? Get completely better and given them plans to follow and the right medications to make sure they never have to step inside a hospital for the same reason again? If you don’t deserve that license and are such a monster of a doctor... why in God’s name did Dr. Banerji choose you to be the junior fellow? Why has he, along with so many others including me, supported you. Defended you. Time and time again when someone else berated you for making a mistake. One they would have probably made too if they were in your position. You helped save a woman’s life on your first day as an intern, and you hadn’t even gone through your orientation yet. You’re amazing Casey. Those are just a few of the many reasons I-”

Casey sat quietly, keeping her head rested on Rafael’s chest as tears streamed down her cheeks and she choked on quiet sobs. Part of her knew he was right. Everything she had, her second year residency, her place on the diagnostic team. All of it. She had it because of the people she met and impressed during her first year at Edenbrook. She got lost in her thoughts and suddenly inhaled a sharp breath. Rafael shifted, pulling back and looking at her.

“Are you okay?”

“...yeah. I- It’s just. Don’t worry. It’s stupid.”

“Nothing is ever stupid. You can tell me. What’s wrong?”

“Well.. I’ve almost lost you twice now. And I-”

He sighed deeply and pulled her back into his chest, wrapping his arms round her tightly, resting his chin on her head as he closed his eyes. Pushing back the tears that pricked his eyes and threatened to spill out and down his cheek, he give Casey a kiss into her hair.

“Casey?”

“Mhm?” she hummed, enjoying the almost comfortable peace of the moment.

“Shall we go for a walk? The air could do us some good. Plus there are some things we need to talk about, that I’d rather only our ears hear. For now at least.”

Casey shifted and looked up at him, they locked gazes and there was something in his eyes. A look that was similar to longing. She gave him a small smile and nod.

“Okay. Sure.”

He beamed back at her and called out to his grandma. “Vovo?! I’m taking Casey for a walk around the block. We’ll be back soon!”

After a response from his grandma, Rafael grabbed his keys and the rest of his pastry, before leading Casey outside and shutting the door securely behind them.

“Are you sure you didn’t want anything? I could go back in quickly and grab you something.”

“No thank you. I’m okay.”

With an indifferent shrug, he stuffed his keys in his pocket as he walked down the path with Casey following behind before they walked side by side. For the first few moments, they walked in a companionable silence. After that they got lost in conversation, it was mainly Casey listening to Rafael tell more childhood stories of his and pointing out places that held special meaning to him.

As they turned into the park, Rafael pointed to a tree.

“Let’s go and sit down for a bit.”

“Why under a tree when there’s a perfectly good bench there?” Casey giggled

“Why on a bench in the sun, when you can sit under a tree in the shade and stay cool?”

“Touché.”

They made their way over to the tree and sat at it’s base next to each other. He smiled as Casey automatically rested her head on his shoulder.

“Heavy head?”

“You have an idea of what this feels like? I feel like I...”

“Have a bowling ball for a head?”

They looked at each other and laughed as Casey nodded.

“Exactly that.”

Rafael smiled at her and they stared into the distance for a while before he cleared his throat. Casey turned to him with a soft smile.

“Are you okay? I haven’t asked you that for a while. How are you coping?”

“I’d say pretty well, all things considered.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes I almost died. Sora broke things off. We lost friends. But... I’m doing good.”

“How about your grandma? Is she okay?”

“She’s thankful that I’m alive. But really? She’s just happy she can embarrass me longer.”

The two shared a chuckle at that. Then Raf’s face turned almost serious, yet it was still relaxed as he looked Casey in the eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in his intense gaze and the way his eyes flicked to her lips. The energy between them became charged and Casey gave a small smile as she blushed lightly.

“You know. This isn’t just any tree. It’s the one I claimed would be where I start a part of my life I’m sure about.”

“That seems.. pretty cryptic Raf.”

“I suppose it does. What I mean is. When I was younger. I told myself when I find the person I believe is THE one. My true love. I’d bring them here, to this spot and we’d... well. Why don’t I just show you.”

He leaned in towards her, Casey’s heart starting to beat in her chest so hard she swore it was about to fly out as he cupped the back of her head and closed his eyes bringing his lips to her own. She felt her eyes close slowly as she started kissing his back. But this wasn’t a hot kiss. This was like one of those kisses in the movies. It was slow, patient, full of love and care. As he pulled away from the kiss, Casey opened her eyes slowly, looking up at him to see that he was blushing too.

“Wow.” She whispered, in complete awe.

“Yeah. Wow.” He agreed as he bit his lip, looking down shyly.

Casey pecked his cheek. “By the way.. whatever it was you ate a little while ago. It’s delicious.”

Raf chuckled at her comment shaking his head. Amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I just kissed you and you give my grandma the compliment.” He retorted with a playful and innocent smirk.

“Oh the kiss was great. Twelve out of ten, would 100% do it again.”

“You would?”

“For the rest of my life, Aveiro.”

“That’s a bold claim, Valentine.”

“You like it.”

“I can’t say that you’re wrong.”

“That’s because I’m not.” She said with a cocky grin. Rafael smiled at her before leaning in to share another kiss.

They stayed under that tree until the sun started to set, when they stood up Raf held out his hand with a questioning look. Casey smiled and took it, walking back to his grandma’s house. They talked some more on the way back and when they walked through the front door they were greeted with a delicious smell.

“Something smells good, vovo.” Rafael smiled as the two of them entered the kitchen, and he walked over, giving his grandma a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m making your favourite.” She replied happily. “Will the beautiful Dr. Valentine be joining us?”

Rafael looked at Casey who looked back at him with a shrug.

“I think she needs to get home. Her roommates are probably worried about her.”

The two turned to Casey as a scream escaped her mouth.

“Casey?” Raf questioned, concern in his voice.

“I left my phone here. I have 12 missed calls from Sienna, 5 from Jackie, 3 from Ethan, 8 from Elijah, 10 from Aurora, and... 25 from Bryce?! Oh good Lord there’s 165 messages in the group chat as well...” Casey sat down, looking pale and weak again.

Turning to his grandma, Rafael asked if she could watch over Casey for a minute and headed to the landline phone, dialing the number for Casey’s apartment. A frantic Elijah picked up.

“Rafael! Have you seen Ca-”

“Elijah! Calm down. Casey’s fine. She’s been with me pretty much all day. We’ve been in the park and she left her phone behind. She wasn’t ignoring you all intentionally. We were just spending some quality time together.” He explained, hearing a collective sigh of relief from people on the other end of the line as Elijah told them Casey’s fine.

“Quality time?”

“Yeah. We um.. We were enjoying each other’s company without the presence of phones.”

“Ahhhh. I see. Aveiro was making moves at last.”

“I was not. I merely... showed her around my neighborhood and sat in a park with her.” He retorted trying to throw Elijah off the trail.

“Uh-huh. We all know what happens in parks buddy.” Elijah teased.

“You guys are insufferable!” Raf exclaimed with a small laugh.

“Rafael honey. Dinner is almost ready. Come and set the table.” His grandma called from the kitchen

“Look. I’ve gotta go. But Casey’s safe. She’s okay. And if she doesn’t come home to night, she’ll be here. So stop worrying.”

“Mmm-hm. Have fun Raf.” Elijah commented slyly and then hung up. Rafael set the phone down and walked back into the kitchen looking a little dazed.

“Are you okay?” Casey asked

“I’m fine. Our friends are just very dirty minded and think we were doing unspeakable things in the park.”

“Oh no. Not their minds wandering again!”

“Yup.”

Casey groaned and hit her head on the table by accident as she sagged down.

“Ouch.” She said with a laugh, rubbing the spot where she hit.

That night Casey stayed and enjoyed a lovely meal with Raf and his grandma. It was dark by the time they had finished and cleared everything away. Casey asked if she could stay the night, not wanting to go out in the dark and home by herself. Deep down, the truth was that she didn’t want to go home to the apartment, and have to face another night of sleeping alone in silence, when the voices struck the most in the deafening silence of night. She showered and put on her last pair of clean pyjamas and laid down next to Rafael in his bed.

“I’ll try to make it to the couch before I fall asleep. I promise.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” he mumbled, turning onto his side, wrapping one of his muscular arms around her waist, pulling her close.

“I don’t think your grandma would be pleased if she found me here come the morning.”

“She’s nicer than that. She wouldn’t whoop my ass you know.”

“I know. She seems really lovely, but I wouldn’t want to get you in any type of trouble.”

“You know. Somehow I don’t think you could. Vovo loves you. I love you. An-”

Raf froze blushing as he realized he just said those three words. And so naturally too. Casey smiled at him softly and played with his hair.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He defended. “You can say it when you’re ready.”

“And what if I’m ready now?”

“Then... I wouldn’t stop you but, don’t feel like you have to say it just because.”

Casey chuckled at his cuteness and pulled his head to her chest, hugging him tightly.

“I love you too Raf. I think I have since that first time I saw you.”

“The feeling is very much mutual.”

They chuckled and settled down together, looking through all of Rafael’s old school books until they fell asleep, heads resting on each other. When His grandma came in to tell him to turn his light off, she smiled at the scene of books in front of them as Rafael snored softly, still loosely holding a book. She carefully moved the books, but still managed to stir them awake.

“Vovo. We weren’t-”

“Shh, it’s alright my boy. Just go back to sleep.”

“I should go to the-” Casey started speaking quietly

“No, no. I don’t wish for you to stumble.”

Casey laid back down and Raf wrapped his arm around her. His grandma tucking them in snuggly and giving her grandson, a kiss on the forehead.

“I have that ring. For when you’re ready.” She whispered in his ear.

He gave a soft smile in response as he fell back into a deep sleep, snoring softly once again.

#playchoices #pixelberry studios #choices stories you play #rafael aveiro #casey valentine #rafael x casey #open heart fanfiction #rafael aveiro fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices open heart

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bubonickitten · 4 years ago

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Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Chapter 12 full text & content warnings below the cut.

CWs for Chapter 12: It’s the Buried, so… expect exactly what it says on the tin labeled Too Close I Cannot Breathe, that is to say: claustrophobia, being trapped, descriptions of asphyxiation and immobility, etc. Also: anxiety/panic symptoms; a brief mention of suicidal ideation; mentions of canon-typical worms & kidnapping; swears; and Lonely-typical Martin (isolation, low self-worth, etc.). SPOILERS through S5.

Chapter 12: Lost and Found

Martin was so single-minded in reaching the Archives, he forgot to shroud himself before descending the stairs to the basement. It’s a miracle that no one was around to intercept him before he could make it to Jon’s office and close the door behind him.

For a long minute he stands there at the threshold, staring blankly into the room, taking in the bizarre scene.

A long, wooden crate sits in the center of the room, loose chains snaking underneath and coiled on the floor around it. A heavy padlock affixed to one of the links yawns open, key still fitted into the lock. Dozens upon dozens of tape recorders are arranged like a summoning circle around the box and every single one of them is on, filling the space with a low, jumbled drone of indistinct syllables.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Martin draws closer. When he catches sight of the ominous DO NOT OPEN scrawled on the lid, the realization hits him.

“Is that a coffin?” he says to himself, flummoxed.

“We really need you, Jon –”

Martin jumps just slightly when his ears pick out the sound of his own voice from the rest of the chatter. His eyes wander to Jon’s desk where a single tape recorder rests, isolated from the clutter on the floor. As the statement continues, Martin recognizes it with a jolt.

“We – I need you. And I – I know that you’re not – I know there’s no way to –”

“Where did he get this?” Martin wonders aloud, reaching out to pick the thing up – and only then does he notice the notebook it sits on. “Where did he get this?” he says, a bit louder.

There’s a scrap of paper sticking out of the top like a bookmark. Bewildered, he sets the tape recorder aside and flips the notebook open to the marked page.

Were I prone to flights of fancy, I daresay I would call his words portentous, the paper reads. Jon’s handwriting has always been nearly illegible, and it only got worse after his burn, but Martin is intimately familiar with it after all this time. A tiny swell of affection begins to bloom in his chest before he forces it back.

You can’t, he tells himself, shutting his eyes. Peter’s plan – whatever it may be – requires Martin to steep himself in loneliness.

Yes, he agreed to the plan assuming that Jon would never wake up. And he’s glad that Jon woke up, of course – albeit in a muffled, distant sort of way. He should probably be more bothered by that, but he notes it with only mild interest. It doesn’t change the simple fact that his feelings for Jon were never actually going to go anywhere. That sort of thing just… isn’t for Martin, let alone with Jon.

At least this way, Martin can put those dead-end feelings to some practical use. He has no illusions about being a hero. Even if Peter isn’t mistaken or lying about the Extinction’s emergence, Martin doubts that he of all people could make any real difference. But with any luck, maybe he can keep Jon safe – or safer, at least.

Not from himself, though, Martin thinks, glaring at the Coffin. He’s so…

He heaves a sigh before turning his attention back to the strip of paper with its cryptic message. The makeshift bookmark is held in place on the side by a paperclip. There is a drawn arrow pointing down, and his eyes follow its trajectory to see it pointing at –

Oh.

Martin can feel his cheeks flush. The arrow sits just above a stanza that he could best describe as blatantly pining, and…

“Oh, god, did Jon read this? That’s –”

“Embarrassing?”

Startled, Martin whips around to see a woman standing in the doorway. He hadn’t even heard the door open.

“Martin, right? Your ears are very red right now,” she says with a smirk. “Don’t worry, he liked it. You saw the note, didn’t you? A bit heavy-handed. He’s always been dramatic, but he never used to be such a sap.”

Martin opens his mouth just slightly, but no sound comes out. The idea of speaking with another person grates at him, bringing his thoughts to a grinding halt like a crowbar jammed between corroded gears.

“I’m Georgie. Jon’s friend.” Martin shuts his eyes and grits his teeth, willing her to go away. She doesn’t, though; doesn’t even wait for him to reply before continuing: “We need to talk.”

It’s worse than it was the first time. How is it worse?

Did the stairs end so soon last time? Did the walls close in so quickly? How long has he been here already? How much longer will he have to stay?

Jon stops for a moment, panting in short gasps, desperate for whatever stagnant air he can force into his lungs. As if to protest the delay, the walls press in tighter and squeeze a breathless whimper out of him.

Keep moving, he tells himself. Just – keep moving. There’s an end, and if you keep moving, you’ll reach it faster.

Without warning or invitation, the tape recorder clicks on and Daisy’s statement begins to play.

“…kept walking into the earth” – a peal of static – “completely out of sight” – more static – “the lid closed very slowly, and then he was gone.”

That’s… not where he paused the tape the last time he listened to it, he realizes with crawling dread. Why did it pick up there? And it’s – is it making its own sentences, mimicking his clumsy attempts at communication? Is it mocking him, trying to stoke his fear? Can the Buried somehow affect the tapes? What else could possibly be doing it? The Powers usually hold no sway in one another’s domains – except for… except for the Watcher, after Jon opened the door.

He’s fairly certain that that no longer holds true. It’s not as if he can still direct the Ceaseless Watcher’s focus; that was in a future that has not – will not – come to pass. But still… curiosity is as much of a pest as it’s always been. Jon resists for a brief few moments before giving in to the urge to Know, even as he curses himself for it.

It becomes immediately clear that just like the last time, he can’t See anything in this place. Reassuring, in some ways – the Eye can’t reach him here, and neither can Jonah Magnus – but the Archivist in him still recoils at the confirmation: he can’t See, he can’t Know, he can’t –

Attempting to tamp down his mounting panic, Jon lets out a shaky breath.

Breathe, he tells himself – and an instant later, he realizes his mistake. Predictably enough, when he tries to draw in a breath, the earth contracts again and chokes him before he can get to the two-second mark. The forced exhale comes out as a whine, and he hates himself for it.

You can’t stop here, he thinks. Keep going.

Blinking grit out of his eyes, he presses on.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Martin mutters to himself, frowning at the weathered stone floor.

“What was that?” Georgie asks, glancing at him as she reaches the bottom of the ladder.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Georgie makes a show of scanning the tunnel.

“Well, I’m the only other one here.”

Martin’s gotten used to talking to himself, but he doesn’t bother explaining that. He’s already exhausted from what brief interaction he’s had with her so far, and he doesn’t care enough to push through the haze.

Georgie starts walking towards a collection of chairs arranged in a loose circle a little ways down the tunnel. Why are there chairs down here? he wonders idly, before discarding the question with deliberate indifference. He cannot afford to give his curiosity any quarter, no matter how mild.

“Well?” Georgie says, sitting down. “Pick a seat and fall into it. You look dead-on-your-feet tired. Honestly, I’m starting to think chronic fatigue is a job requirement for you lot.”

Martin lets out the beginnings of a small chuckle. Almost instantaneously, he strangles it, but the noise echoes in his head, unwanted and unsettling. It sounds wrong to his ears, discordant and out-of-place. It’s only now that he thinks to wonder how long it’s been since he’s laughed.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself automatically before repeating: “I really shouldn’t be here.”

“Listen,” Georgie says, taking on a more serious tone, “I promised Jon I’d pass a message to you, and this is the only place we can talk without your creeper boss spying on us.” She holds up a folded piece of paper. “He left you a letter, too.”

“Fine,” he says flatly, approaching and holding out a hand. “Give it here.”

“You can’t read it outside the tunnels.”

“Fine,” he says again through clenched teeth. She stares him down for a moment – he resists the impulse to back away – but she does hand it over. He meets her halfway, avoiding skin contact as he takes it from her. He doesn’t even have to put conscious thought into that anymore; at this point, it’s become second nature.

Taking a few steps back, he stares down at the paper held loosely in his hands. There is a part of him – shoved into a dusty corner of his mind, forcibly stifled and neglected – burning to unfold it. His thumb toys with one of the corners, peeling the top layer up ever so slightly before letting it snap back down with a soft fluttering noise. A more prominent presence overshadows the first, though, looming over his shoulder, whispering insistently about restraint and resolve and a greater purpose.

When he notices that Georgie is watching him, he sets his jaw and forces himself to meet her eyes.

“I can read just fine on my own. I don’t need company.”

“Don’t know about that,” she says, not quite under her breath. Then, in a more conversational tone: “There are a lot of things that Jon couldn’t communicate. I’m here to fill in the gaps.”

“He went into the Coffin.” Martin barely recognizes the monotone as coming from him.

Georgie makes an affirmative noise. Something ugly and unwanted simmers just underneath Martin’s contrived calm, a nagging itch clamoring for attention in the back of his mind. When Martin takes a breath, he can only manage to fill his lungs halfway.

“Why would he…”

Martin falters. It’s too broad of a query, and just scratching the surface is enough to break the uneasy ceasefire between the Powers laying claim to him. Martin can feel the pull of the Eye begging the question, the pushback of the Lonely at the prospect of involving himself with others.

“It says ‘do not open’ in big letters,” Martin says instead. Not a question, just an observation: a tangible, easily digestible detail that he can latch onto, enough to distract the Eye but impersonal so as not to offend the Forsaken.

Georgie snorts at that. “No better way to entice Jon to do the exact opposite.”

If she was trying for levity, it falls flat to Martin’s ears. The carefully constructed stillness he’s grown so adept at cloaking himself in shatters. When he speaks, his voice comes out sharp, louder – more emotional – than he had intended.

“Why is he so – why would he go in there?”

“Because –”

Martin makes an agitated noise before he can stop himself. The slight echo of his own voice bouncing back at him off the tunnel walls is already too much company; being repeatedly reminded that there is an entire other person here is unbearable. Every atom of his existence is screaming at him to turn his back on her and get away.

Georgie falls quiet and waits. After a few minutes cocooned safely within his own thoughts, Martin looks up and is surprised to see her still sitting there. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised; he didn’t see her leave. There’s just some part of him that cannot reconcile the concept of someone else being physically present in the same space as him.

“Sit,” Georgie says. Just a single word, spoken softly but with the weight of a command.

Before he even consciously makes the decision to move, he’s closing the distance between them and lowering himself into a chair. Unthinkingly, he chooses the furthest possible seat from her, and when he sits, he scoots backwards a few feet, as unconscious and instinctive as breathing. If she notices, she doesn’t comment on it.

“It was important to him that you read that,” she says, nodding at the paper still clutched in Martin’s hands.

“‘Was’…?”

Georgie gives him a peculiar look. “It’s not a suicide note, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What? I wasn’t – I didn’t…”

The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Should it have? Is that something he should have thought to worry about – that he would have thought to worry about once upon a time? It – it is, isn’t it? He knows how Jon can be, how he spirals, how he’s his own worst enemy – how when he’s not actively putting himself in danger, he’s hurting himself through casual self-destruction and neglect. How much has Martin changed, that that possibility of Jon deliberately hurting himself didn’t even occur to him?

Wasn’t half the point of Martin doing this to protect Jon? Because he cares about Jon? When did he become so out-of-touch with that part of himself?

“Should I be worried?” he whispers to himself.

“No! I mean, not about that – not now, anyway – I mean –!” Georgie grimaces. “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you something new to worry about. You just – you seemed hung up on the past tense?” She chuckles drily. “I think I’ve just been spending too much time with Jon. He overanalyzes things like that.”

“Semantics,” Martin says obscurely. He isn’t even entirely sure what he means, but Georgie nods as if she understands.

“Always have to be conscious of word choice around that man. I have seen him brood over verb tense for days trying to find meaning where none was intended, instead of just asking –”

“So what is it, then?” Martin interrupts, his voice tight, staring down at the paper in his hands again.

“It’s… hmm.” Georgie gives him a look that he can’t quite identify. “I think you should just read it. Take your time, and let me know when you have questions.”

“I don’t think –”

“Trust me,” she says with a tight smile, “you’ll have questions.”

“Fine,” Martin says, grinding his teeth together. Georgie seems nearly as stubborn as Jon. The sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can shake her off.

He heaves a longsuffering sigh and begins to read. As it turns out, he does have questions, the first of many making itself known mere seconds after he begins reading.

I’m sorry I left you.

…now I’m here, trying to explain things –

– had changed since he left –

– it seemed he was alone –

“Who is ‘he’?” Martin asks.

“Hm?”

“It keeps referring to a ‘he.’”

Georgie blinks. “You’re kidding, right? I know Jon is oblivious, but –”

“What?”

She frowns. “How far are you?”

“Only a few lines in…? ‘You’ is me, I’m assuming, since it is written for me, but then he jumps right into –”

“Oh,” Georgie says, sounding relieved for some reason. “Yeah, I suppose you wouldn’t know yet – don’t get too tripped up by the pronouns. Ever since he woke up, Jon’s only been able to speak in statement quotes. Limits his options a bit.”

“That… explains some things,” Martin replies, remembering his brief encounter with Jon a few weeks ago. Martin had recognized some of the words as his own. It was bizarre, but he’d been trying not to dwell on the peculiarities of the one-sided conversation. Thinking about Jon at length always made it more difficult for Martin to stay away. But now that the subject is free-floating in the air like this, his sense of curiosity is making demands again. “Why?”

“No clue. Jon hasn’t really said, and I haven’t pressed him on it. I can tell there’s some baggage there, but I wasn’t going to make him unpack it when he wouldn’t have the time or space to actually sort through it just yet. I think it’s safe to assume it’s supernatural, though, not psychological. And it definitely isn’t by choice.”

Great, Martin thinks bitterly. Just what they need: more complications. When he turns his attention back to the letter, he doesn’t get much further in his reading before he has to stop again.

“Are you sure that Jon wrote this?”

“Mhm. He fussed over it for hours.”

“It’s just…”

“Weirdly communicative?” Georgie suggests, a knowing smirk on her face. “Uncharacteristically revealing and insightful? Indicating a level of self-awareness seemingly not typical for one Jonathan Sims?”

“I… I was just going to say ‘open,’ but… yeah?”

“Yeah,” Georgie echoes with a dry chuckle. “Just keep reading.”

Jon is stuck.

One arm is pinned to his side, elbow bruising where it presses against the wall. The other is stretched out ahead of him, bitten-short fingernails digging into the dirt for purchase. Useless; the earth is packed so tightly, he can’t quite get a grip. His bad leg is throbbing painfully with every slight shift, and he can’t seem to move the other at all. He tries to breathe through it, but he can’t seem to force his lungs to expand, trapped as he is in –

“A squeeze can be a hole less than a foot wide, sometimes going on for a long way, the rock pressing in on all sides of you,” the Archive recites matter-of-factly. “In a particularly bad squeeze, there are parts where the walls and ceiling are so close that you can’t move your arms or bend your legs to push forward, and you just have to squirm your way to the other side like a worm –”

Jon wriggles frantically, trying to pull one arm free to clap a hand over his mouth, but he’s stuck –

“– down, down, down, down, down below the earth, there was a worm. He had not always been a worm, of course, but time and tide and life had pushed him to it – and he was, as definitely always had been the case, trapped. Boarded on all sides with no escape and no recourse.” The words are strained and faltering, the pressure on Jon’s chest being what it is, but the Archive carries on, punctuated with the occasional gasp or grunt of pain but otherwise unrelenting. “Even in his faint and fading memories of a life that wasn’t simply stone and rancid, reeking soil, he wasn’t sure he’d ever known a thing that might be called freedom. Choices he had had, that’s true, and certainly compared to the relentless press of all the weight and dirt now on him, the simple choice of left or right or stand or sit would now seem the most outrageous of luxuries –”

Shut up, shut up, just shut up, Jon rails against the Archive, redoubling his struggling, but it forges ahead, as if to highlight the fact that Jon cannot.

“…this was a particularly bad squeeze. Near the end, it got so bad that, if Alena hadn’t gone in first, I would have told her to go back and forget Lost Johns’ Cave.”

Very funny, he thinks acidly.

“When had the crushing pressure in his chest become literal? When had the empty promise of the horizon finally vanished completely, replaced by the pitch darkness of this – forever wall of earth?”

Suddenly, the aforesaid earth expands outward like a vast beast drawing in a breath, and Jon pitches forward as the passageway widens just enough for him to move. It’s still a squeeze, but he can at least inch his way onward again. He takes advantage of the opportunity while it still exists, blunt fingernails scrabbling against the walls as he pulls himself along.

Something in Martin gives – an overlong tug-o-war brought to an unceremonious end by a snap in the rope, sending both sides careening backwards to the ground. Like a tightly-coiled spring let loose, he stands abruptly and begins to pace, trying to suppress the uncomfortable stirrings of emotion threatening to break through the fog.

“He’s only saying this because he thinks it’ll change my mind about working for Peter,” he mutters heatedly, running a hand through his hair, making sweeping gestures with his other hand. The letter still clenched in his fist flutters and crinkles with his sharp movements.

“What?”

“He’s just –” Martin throws his head back with an aggravated sigh. “He’s always been insensitive, but mostly in an – an awkward, off the cuff sort of way. And he can be snappish, but that’s mostly when he’s… scared, or overtired, or… but this,” Martin smacks the paper in his hand with the backs of his fingers, “this is just cruel.”

“I don’t understa-”

“Of course you don’t,” Martin spits out. “Just – using my – my feelings for him to try to manipulate –”

“Hey, hey, whoa,” Georgie interrupts, “that’s not –”

“What, then?” He laughs, and it feels almost caustic on his tongue. “He just – he’s gone for six months and then he comes back and suddenly he’s – he’s giving a love confession?”

“Yeah, he was worried that you wouldn’t be-”

“He doesn’t even like me most of the time!” Martin’s voice cracks, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Even after – I mean, he was nicer in the months before…” He closes his eyes and swallows around the lump in his throat, unable to say the words. “But he wasn’t around much, so it makes sense. He wasn’t having to put up with me on a daily basis. Made it easy for him to forget all the things about me that he hated.”

“I don’t think –”

“And – and even when he was here, he was distant. Avoiding all of us, like it would keep us… I don’t know, safe?” Martin’s arms fall limp at his side, the fight gone out of him. “And – and then he… just…”

He trails off feebly, his burst of energy sapping away from him. When he doesn’t rally, Georgie begins to speak.

“Well… being avoidant and snippy, that definitely sounds like Jon,” she concedes. “But trust me, he’s not capable of using your feelings for him to manipulate you.”

“What?” Martin eyes flick to her.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s an ass sometimes. I know he mistreated you. He knows he mistreated you. He said as much when he was staying with me.”

He did?

“Judging by your reaction, I’m assuming he never told you as much.” Georgie sighs. “I told him to try talking to you. He was isolating himself, and he needed more than just me – needed someone who actually knew about… well, everything that goes on here. And I suggested you, since he talked about you all the time.”

He did? Martin thinks again, disbelieving.

“And based on what he said, it seemed like you cared about him? Though I don’t think he realized how much. Honestly, he didn’t even notice how much he went on about you until I started pointing it out.” She gives him an amused look, and Martin averts his eyes. “He’s astonishingly oblivious sometimes. He gets so focused on the little details that he misses the big picture. But you already know that, don’t you?”

Martin continues to stare at his feet, muscles tensed and knees locked.

“Anyway, he was worried about you, too. I kept nagging him about it. Eventually he did say he talked to you, but I’m willing to bet it wasn’t exactly a heart-to-heart.”

“No,” Martin says quietly. “I mean, he did talk to me after he was kidnapped for the first time –”

“The first time?” Georgie repeats. “It happened more than once?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. He hates that he has to specify which kidnapping. “He… wanted to check in with me before going traveling. And he… did seem worried, I guess?” After a beat, Martin adds hurriedly: “About – about all of us.”

“But he mentioned you specifically. Said you were taking on too much.”

“I was –” Martin splutters, pulling his hand away from his face and flinging his arm out in agitation. “How can he of all people say –”

“I know, I know,” Georgie says, placating. “He’s a self-destructive workaholic throwing stones at glass houses.”

“Boulders, more like,” he huffs. Georgie chuckles at that.

Martin thinks back. Elias had had him start reading statements to keep up with the workload while Jon was… in hiding, then doing independent investigation, then kidnapped – which Elias had neglected to even mention. Jon had always seemed fixated on the statements to the point of possessiveness, and Martin had been anxious that Jon would feel like he was… infringing, somehow? And Jon had been upset, but not jealous or territorial as Martin had expected. He was… he was worried, wasn’t he? That the statements would take a toll on Martin’s mental health? Because Jon knew what they were like, and…

More like setting an avalanche on a glass house, Martin thinks, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

“Couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that someone might be worried about him.” It isn’t until he hears his voice that he realizes he’s spoken the thought aloud.

“Yeah. He’s always been like that. I think he’s working on it, though?” When Martin doesn’t respond, Georgie continues. “But, back to my earlier point… yes, he can be an ass. But saying that he loves you, just to convince you to come back? Does that really sound like him to you?”

“It’s more likely than the alternative,” Martin says stubbornly, and Georgie sighs.

“It’s just… not something he would even think to do in the first place. His guilt complex wouldn’t allow for it, first off. And he can be thoughtless, but even when he’s being harsh, it’s not premeditated. But more than that, he’s not… hm. How to put this nicely…” She taps the knuckles of one hand lightly against her lips. “Jon doesn’t have the emotional intelligence necessary for that.”

Martin blinks several times, lips parted just slightly.

“That was… uh, blunt.”

“Well, it’s true.” Georgie shrugs, unconcerned. “He’s clever in a lot of ways, but this sort of thing doesn’t come naturally to him. Has trouble enough processing his own feelings, let alone managing others’ emotions. He’s always been either hypervigilant or oblivious with not much middle ground.” She casts a pensive look at the floor. “He seems… better than he used to be – or he’s trying, at least – but I still wouldn’t call him socially skilled. And even if he was, he’s still just not subtle enough to be deliberately manipulative.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s a shit liar.” Martin snorts at that, and Georgie grins. “I take it you’ve noticed.”

“A little over a year ago, he got stabbed –”

“Of course he did,” Georgie groans.

“Refused to explain how it happened. Said he cut himself with a bread knife.”

“A bread knife?” This time, she laughs outright.

“I know, right?” Martin exhales with a little heh. “He just – I knew he was lying, and he knew that I knew he was lying, but he just – he stuck to that story.” His lips curl into a small, timid, but inarguably fond smile. “Just… stubborn, you know?”

“Yeah,” Georgie says, the corners of her eyes crinkling when she mirrors his expression.

Martin clears his throat, smile fading. “But – but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does, though.”

Martin looks off to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Look,” Georgie says, “I’ve known Jon awhile. We even dated for a time.” Martin’s knee-jerk flicker of jealousy must show on his face, because Georgie grins. “Don’t worry, we’re not romantically compatible, as it turns out. Strictly platonic.”

“I didn’t say any-”

“You didn’t have to.” Before Martin can protest again, she presses on. “Point is, you can trust me when I say that he’s not the type to throw the word ‘love’ around carelessly, let alone to use it for emotional manipulation.”

“Fine,” Martin says tersely, digging his heels in again. “Then he’s just mistaken. What he feels isn’t love. He just feels guilty, and – and lonely, and he thinks this will make it hurt less.” Martin scoffs. “Or, hell, even the opposite: he knows this won’t work and he’s hoping it hurts when I push him away, so that we’ll be even. Using me to – to punish himself.”

“Yeah, I can see why you’d think that,” Georgie says. “But it’s not the case. He’s… changed a lot.”

“When? How? You – you keep saying that, but what is that even supposed to mean?” His lips move soundlessly for several seconds before he bursts out, “He was asleep for six months, not – not getting therapy!”

Georgie raises her eyebrows at the increasingly battered letter trembling in Martin’s clenched fist.

“I think you should keep reading.”

“H-h-hello?”

The voice is weak, almost a whisper, but it startles Jon all the same. It sounded like it was coming from some immeasurable distance to his right, and he strains his ears for more.

“Is – is someone there? P-please, please help me, I can’t – I don’t know where I am, I – I can’t –”

It cuts out with a strained wheeze, but Jon’s heard enough to recognize it.

Well, he doesn’t know who it belongs to, but he’s heard it before, the first time he was here: a hapless plea from a stranger who Jon failed to save. The words are exactly the same. He knows, because they’ve haunted him since the first time he heard them, playing over and over in his mind on sleepless nights. Even after the ritual, they remained etched in his memory, only now they had to compete with the cries of the billions of other souls that Jon had condemned. That he could not help.

“Please,” the voice tries again. “Please, are you still there?” Jon tries to grasp for a statement, but the Archive is eerily silent. “H-hello? Please, please say something.”

Jon was unable to find him last time, but maybe… maybe this time, he can –

As if to quash that thought, the earth begins to shake, rattling his teeth and sending a shooting pain through his bad leg.

“Help me–!” The stranger lets out the beginning of a muffled scream, cut short when the earth surrounding them begins to properly heave and thunder.

The packed dirt beneath Jon’s feet begins to give way and then he’s falling, swept down, down, down. He doesn’t know how long the landslide continues before the earth becomes solid again, compressing around him and arresting his descent.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispers to no one, as his ragged panting begins to subside. “I –”

His eyelids fly open and he barely registers the grit that begins to sting his eyes.

“It’s me?” he murmurs with a sense of wonder. Daring, he tests again: “Not the Archive.” He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Just – just me –”

The hungry earth constricts again as if with a vengeance, smothering the words before they can leave his throat and filling his mouth with the taste of soil.

As Martin reads on, his restless pacing continues.

After leaving the hospital, the next thing that is properly clear in my mind is –

– I need him to be okay.

I couldn’t see him or hear him –

– I didn’t even get a chance to speak to him – asked what had happened, he was just gone. And I was alone again.

Jon doesn’t know what it is to be Lonely, Martin thinks bitterly. Martin of all people knows what it is to be alone, and Jon isn’t alone. And as long as Martin can keep Peter distracted, he won’t be. Martin made his choice. He has to see this through.

A moment later, though, he’s admonishing himself. He’s being unkind. Unnecessarily harsh. It isn’t Jon’s fault that Martin’s Lonely. This is just a poorly veiled attempt to distract himself from the surge of guilt he feels at reading the words. Because… because there’s no denying that Martin wasn’t there when Jon woke up; that he hasn’t been there since Jon came back. Jon might not need him, not really, but… Martin still should have been there, right? What if he never gets another chance?

Martin’s blood runs cold in his veins, his chest tightening more with every passing moment.

What if… what if Jon never comes home?

I wanted to say something reassuring, to reach out and let him know I was still there –

– I wanted to act, to help, to do something, but – I felt helpless to do anything but watch as events progressed.

I think he might be part of something really awful, and I don’t know how to make him see that – of course I did worry. I knew that, secretly, he was as well.

Martin huffs, blinking rapidly against the sting in his eyes.

“What?” Georgie asks.

“Nothing,” he says, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his dry mouth. “He just… sometimes I wonder if he actually hears himself speak.”

“Mm. Yeah, I get that,” she says after a moment, but Martin is already looking back down at the letter.

I know how that sounds – but – I ask you to read on.

Don’t… misunderstand me, please –

– I trusted his instincts almost as much as I trusted my own.

There was a time – not even that long ago – that hearing Jon say that he trusted him would have meant… everything. Now, it skates right over him, leaving only the barest impression. Or, that’s what Martin tells himself as he reads on.

More truthfully, it’s that he doesn’t dare pause to examine his emotional state right now.

Jon continues… begging, really, for Martin to listen to him. Ironic, really. How many times have the roles been reversed? How many times did Jon brush off Martin’s sincere attempts to take care of him, to encourage him to take care of himself?

And then –

Statement of Georgina Barker regarding –

– travel through time.

Martin rereads the lines silently to himself several times, his brain wrapping around the individual words without quite comprehending the whole.

“Travel through time?” he says, as if it will make any more sense spoken aloud.

“Right.” Georgie takes a breath, claps her hands on her knees, and gives Martin a significant look. “You… may want to sit down for this part.”

Partly to keep himself company, partly to make strategic use of this newest development in his overly convoluted existence, Jon records a statement: a rambling, stream-of-consciousness explanation, cramming as many of his own words as he can onto the tape while he has the chance.

“Every – every single mark was orchestrated by Jonah. Well, almost every one. I was marked by the Web when I was – when I found – when…” Even now, he cannot bring himself to share it where someone else might hear. “Before I ever started working at the Institute,” he says instead, “which is partly why Jonah saw me as a candidate in the first place. That and… and how easy I was to manipulate. You were right, Georgie, when you suggested that I was chosen because of my inexperience, not in spite of it. He… he read me like a… he knew I would play right into his hands.

“And – and of course being marked by the Eye, that happened when I signed the contract to become the Head Archi- well… the Archivist. Though, I think what crystallized it may have been my, ah – need to know, and – and paranoia, after…” Grimacing, Jon scrapes by another tight segment of the passage. “After finding Gertrude’s body. After Jane Prentiss. Jonah knew that she was targeting the Institute, and he let it happen. Put everyone in danger just to see how resilient I was, if I was… if I was a survivor, if I was worth investing in or if I should just be – eliminated, so he could move on to more promising candidate –”

Jon lets out a strained whine as he struggles through yet another squeeze.

“And I – I survived. Not that I had anything to do with that. It was… it was Sasha’s competence, her ability to act under pressure and think on her feet, which was – the last time we saw her, the real her, and I should have…” Jon swallows thickly. “And – and Tim, finding the fire extinguishers, and coming back to help Martin and me, because he… he was brave, and he wouldn’t abandon us. And Martin, being… well, being Martin. Making the fear bearable, because that’s just… how he is, isn’t it?” His fond chuckle dies in his throat, choked with dirt and persistent, unshed tears. “Caring, stubbornly caring, even when we were both about to die, even though I’d done nothing to deserve his consideration.”

The squeeze opens up a bit, allowing Jon to draw in a shallow breath. The air is stale, humid, and saturated with dust, but at least it lets him exercise his lungs a little.

“An-anyway – Jonah, ah, he was watching the whole time. Deliberately waited to activate the sprinkler system until the worms had…” Jon shudders, trying to ignore the way his scars begin to itch and crawl. “And Tim – he got caught up in it, too, just because – because he was too close to me at the wrong time. I guess that – that never stopped being true, did it?

“The next few marks were… well, I couldn’t have made it any easier for Jonah.” Jon laughs, a bitter wheeze of a thing. “I just had to go looking for answers. Stupid. All he had to do is leave me a few pertinent statements and watch as I walked right into the Vast and the Desolation…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Martin says flatly.

“Not at all.”

“Time travel.”

“Yep.”

“Actual, legitimate time travel.”

“I don’t know what distinguishes legitimate time travel from illegitimate” – Martin rolls his eyes – “but sure?”

“How?”

“Not entirely sure? Jon’s had trouble going into detail given… well, his current limitations. Something about a wormhole in a spooky house?” She frowns. “And he mentioned spiders offhand once, but I still don’t know whether he meant it literally or metaphorically.”

Martin doesn’t reply to that. He paces, paces, paces in short, erratic bursts. The hand not holding the letter curls into fist, fingernails cutting into the palm.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Georgie ventures.

“I… I don’t know,” Martin answers truthfully. “It’s just – a lot. Elias is Jonah Magnus, and – and he forced Jon to…”

He stops his pacing and unclenches his fist, only for his fingers to begin twitching and flexing, as if itching for something to wring or throttle or crush. The pounding in his ears nearly drowns out his own noisy breathing, and he has to take a minute to relax his jaw before he speaks.

“How… how is he?” He manages to keep his voice remarkably calm, considering the crackling, pent-up energy roiling within him.

“Handling it better than I would have expected, honestly? I mean – don’t get me wrong, he’s… traumatized. Guilty. Keeps referring to himself as a monster, and I don’t think that’s entirely because he doesn’t have any better words to use. Still not taking care of himself as much as I would like, but… for once, I don’t think he’s just being careless? It’s more like… I don’t know.” She leans forward with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together in front of her mouth and gaze fixed on the floor. “He’s afraid to sleep, afraid to read statements – which I guess is like eating for him now? It’s like he has to choose between fulfilling a basic need and… well, triggering a panic attack. It’s not a fair choice to ask him to make, and it would be unfair for me to hold that against him.”

“None of that sounds like ‘handling it.’”

“Except he’s not just giving in to despair, and for once he’s not going it alone. He’s actually asking for help, and accepting it when it’s offered.” She straightens in her seat again, and Martin resolutely ignores the pointed look she gives him. “He’s been openly communicating – not just about the facts, but about his own feelings.”

“Not enough to keep him from taking it upon himself to – to bury himself alive, apparently. And for a person who tried to slit his throat and – and leave him to… you know, if Basira hadn’t stepped in, I – we never would have known what happened to him.”

Martin thinks back to the day Jane Prentiss attacked the Institute.

“I don’t want to become a mystery,” Jon had said. “I refuse to become another goddamn mystery.”

That was the first time he had really seen Jon with his guard down. Martin remembers every detail: the tone of his voice, the set of his jaw, the thinly veiled desperation in his eyes when he finally offered Martin a candid glimpse of what lives behind all those obdurate walls he hides behind…

“Because I’m scared, Martin!”

So much about Jonathan Sims had made sense after that.

“Well,” Georgie says, “he trusted us enough to tell us where he was going this time.”

“And you let him go?” Martin says, far more vehemently than he had intended.

“First off, there’s no letting him do anything,” Georgie says sternly. “He’s an adult; I can’t control him. It’s not my job to control him. But yes,” she continues after a pause, softer now, “he explained the situation and I told him I’d support him.”

“Why?”

“Because he said he knew what he was doing.”

“And you actually believed him?”

“Yes. Because I really do think he’s changed. He promised me that this isn’t more of the same, and I believe him.” Georgie shrugs. “Also, he’s from the future and he’s done this once already. Though I’m willing to bet that the last time, he didn’t tell anyone what he was planning.” Staring at Martin intently, she leans forward again. He takes an automatic step back, as if pushed. “He’s trying to do better. I think he deserves a chance to prove it – maybe to himself more than anyone else.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t –”

“Then sit back down and read the rest.”

He doesn’t sit, but he does return to the letter. And it’s… well, he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Jon knows about the Extinction. He knows that Martin is cooperating with Peter partly to protect him. He knows that Peter’s plans involve Martin’s isolation.

None of that is surprising, if Jon actually is from the future. He seems confident that the Extinction isn’t as imminent a threat as Peter claims, so if Jon does have future knowledge, then… well, Martin might have to reevaluate some things.

But despite the weight of that revelation, that isn’t what’s dominating the forefront of Martin’s mind right this moment. What’s tripping him up right now is…

He deserved to –

– to be – beloved –

– cared for – trusted –

– being wanted and appreciated –

– being genuinely loved –

– no matter how wrong it might feel –

– when you’re at your lowest point, when you’re your most emotionally vulnerable.

I need him to be okay –

– and the world is so much better for –

– the easy, charming man I’d fall in love with –

– being in it.

Almost sedately, in stark contrast to his earlier burst of manic energy, Martin finally lowers himself into the nearest chair. It’s only later that he’ll realize that he didn’t pause beforehand to assess which seating option offered the furthest physical distance from Georgie.

“You’re… sure Jon wrote this?” he says meekly.

Georgie sighs heavily, but when she rolls her eyes, it’s with amused exasperation rather than true annoyance.

“Like I said the last eleven times you asked, yes. They aren’t his words exactly, but the meaning behind them is his. And I don’t think it was the apocalypse that made him so sentimental.” Martin gives her a bemused look, and she sighs again. “It was you, okay? And it started way before whatever happened in his future. He was besotted when he was staying with me last year, even if he didn’t realize it for what it was. And he might be clumsy at expressing it, but… you know as well as I do that he overthinks everything, and I don’t think that’s changed any. If he was confident enough to say all those things, he means it.”

“It’s just…” Martin trails off, gesturing vaguely with one hand. It isn’t impossible for him to conceptualize of Jon as someone capable of love. The impossible part is that… “It’s me, you know?”

“Yeah, and so does Jon, and it seems he likes you as you are.” She waits for Martin to look up before she continues. “I won’t tell you what to do with that information. I think he would agree with me when I say that you aren’t obligated to reciprocate. But I will tell you that he had the exact same reaction to you caring about him. Regardless of how you see yourselves, neither of you seems to think that the other is unlovable.”

Martin… doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s too much, too fast, too unexpected – too unbelievable.

“Did he, ah…” The Lonely kicks up a furious objection, but Martin forces himself to ask the question. “Did he say how long he would be gone?”

Yet again, Jon is pinned, panting and shaky from the exertion of struggling fruitlessly for… well, he isn’t sure how long he’s been stuck. He isn’t even sure how long he’s been in the Coffin. He managed to dodge giving a specific timeline for when to expect him back – he didn’t want to worry anyone if he missed a deadline – but he did insinuate that it shouldn’t take more than a week. Secretly, he hoped he could return more quickly than he did the last time.

As expected, though, he has no sense of the passing of time in here, beyond just too long. Too long without air, too long without stretching, too long without Seeing –

That familiar rumbling is starting up again, distant at first but moving closer, closer, closer like an oncoming freight train, volume climbing louder and louder until the entire earth is roaring. The walls contract abruptly with an earsplitting crack, punching the scant amount of air in his lungs out in a wracking wheeze. From all around him come the grunts and groans and yelps of pain from who knows how many fellow trapped souls, but there is one cry in particular that draws his attention.

“Daisy?” His hoarse voice cracks, and he clears his throat before trying again. “Daisy!”

“Jon!”

End Notes:

Sorry for the delay!! Last week was very busy for me; I didn't have much time for writing.

Citations are as follows: Section 1: The ‘we need you’ bits are from Martin’s dialogue in the S4 trailer. The ‘Were I prone to flights of fancy…’ line is from MAG 007. Section 2: Excerpts of Daisy’s statement are from MAG 061. Section 3: None. Section 4: Jon/the Archive’s dialogue comes from the following episodes, in order: 015, 166, 015, 166. Sections 5 & 6: None. Section 7: See last chapter for citations for Jon’s letter to Martin. Section 8: Jon quotes are from MAG 039; see last chapter for citations for the letter excerpts. Section 9: None.

Also,,, my ace/aro-spec ass is not a poet, and I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by attempting to write a love poem. Just pretend it’s affecting, S1-S2-era awkward Martin yearning, complete with that very relatable experience of reading your past writing and cringing because oh, god, the mortifying ordeal of confronting the person you were a minute ago, let alone years ago.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fic #long post #tma spoilers

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ladynightmare913 · 4 years ago

Text

Red Rose, Blood Moon

This is an Original Story inspired by the tale of Red Riding Hood. I would like to say a special thank to my best friend and co-author Olivia ( @asunshinepuff ) for joining me on writing this world onto paper.

This story contains only original characters created by Olivia and myself. For those of you who want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask to me or Olivia on her blog. If you have any questions, theories, or curiosities about any of our characters or how the story will progress, send them to the ask box! I know this chapter is shorter than usual but I promise to make up for it in the next chapter!

I wrote this chapter listening to this song, I hope you enjoy!

Now without Further Adieu!

Chapter 11: The Fiancé

1270

Red had been walking along the edge of the snowy woods, tampering with traps that animals were hunted for their pelts, or for food. If someone were to say he only did it for amusement, they would only be partially right. Red had hoped he would never have to see Luara again. As the years blurred together, he began to think that he never would, falling into peace. But he supposed that was simply too much ask for in his sentence of a cursed eternity.

Because there she was. Her red hair flowing in the wind, her brown hazel eyes twinkling in amusement. Her red lips in a smug grin. She hadn’t aged at all. Red glared, his teeth bared at her, over the years, his teeth became sharper, like a wolf’s fangs. How had she found him? How many centuries had it been?

“You look surprised to see me.”

“I prayed I never would.” He riposted.

She tsked, tilting her head. “Is that what you really ought to be saying to your fiancé?”

“You are not my fiancé.”

She simply sighed. “And here I thought you would be glad to see me,” She paused, eyeing him, “I came to free you of your curse.”

“How thoughtful, since you were the one who cast it upon me.”

Luara pouted. “It was only meant to teach you a lesson.” Smiling warmly. “I think five centuries is long enough, don’t you?”

Red didn’t answer, only glaring. He hadn’t dared to move, “The curse is unbreakable.”

She snorted. “I’m the one who cast it, you really think I can’t remove it?” She placed a hand to her chest, a brow raised, “I’m more powerful than when I once was when I casted it. I can break it,” She snapped her fingers, “Just like that.”

The curse mark on his chest moved, as if it was growling at her words.

“I don’t think my curse likes you very much.” He retorted.

She rolled her eyes. “What do you say?” She offered her open hand, stepping closer, the snow clung to her skirt.

“I say, I don’t trust you. So I’ll pass on your offer.” He didn’t dare turn his back. Luara glared.

“Now see here, I didn’t come all this way just for you to decline gracious my offer.”

He shook his head. “No. You came here for something else. Not me.” He reveled when her eye twitched. So he was right.

She forced a smile on her face. “What can I do to prove to you I simply wish to lift the curse?”

“Nothing. Even if you left now, and I never saw you again, I would never believe you. Never again.”

Her expression grew dark. Green sparks lit her hands. “Red, I will not ask again.”

“I will not change my answer.” He glared back.

They held each other's unblinking gaze. Daring the other to move. Red could smell the frustration brewing beneath her blank façade. Red internally smirked, she couldn’t hold his stare for much longer. He was right, because the next she moved her hands towards him, green sparks burst towards him. Red dodged easily, running into the forest. She screamed his name in rage, she chased after him into the woods.

The burst of green magic grew erratic, hitting trees and ground. Hiding behind a large boulder, he drew his arrow, aiming for Luara’s heart. Her eyes caught his as she turned. He released. Green light stopped the flying arrow, she sneered at him. Red reached for another arrow. Green light wrapped around him, he struggled to break free. A pulse light lightning surged through the light. Red grunted in pain, falling to the snow.

Out of breath, Luara gave a malicious smile as she walked to him, “Now about that curse,” her hands glowed brighter. Red glared, refusing to cry out in pain. She laughed at him. “Oh Red, you always did amuse me so.”

Red couldn’t hold his head up, lowering that he could only see the snow beneath her feet. The curse mark on his chest growled, the green light began to dim. He didn’t see her joy turned to confusion, then anger.

“What is this?” She snapped her gaze to him. “What have you done?!” She screeched.

Red answered with a sardonic laugh, “I, have done nothing, but live with my curse,” he gasps for breath, “for five hundred years,” he gave a maniacal laugh at the furry in her eyes. The green light faded completely, Red fell to his side on the snow, he smirked. “I knew it. Not even you can break the curse...”

She shook her head as she backed away from him, the scent of fear reaching his senses, “No, this is impossible… the curse…won’t answer me… as if-”

“As if the curse no longer belongs to you, but to him.”

Hazel and blue eyes snap to the third voice. Red starred in surprise. Luara glared at the woman before them. “Who are you?” She snapped.

The voice belonged to the one who Red once thought couldn’t speak. The Golden Doe glared at Luara. Her chocolate brown eyes glared in righteous fury at the red haired woman. “Leave.”

“How dare you, who do you think you are? Do you have any idea who I am?” Luara’s eyes were maniacal.

“You are the one who cursed an innocent man. Condemned him to a life of isolation and pain.” Her gold dress fluttered against the sudden cold winds. She began to circle the witch, the train of her gown tailing behind.

Luara only raised a thin brow, and laughed. “And how would you know that?”

The woman in gold answered, “You are a witch.”

Luara’s eyes narrowed, her head turning slowly as the woman in gold continued to walk closer to Red. “And you, what are you? Are you a witch as I am?”

“What I am is of no concern to you.”

“So you are a witch.” Luara smirked.

The Lady of the Woods sneered, Red had never seen her so full of anger. “I am no witch. I am the guardian of these woods,” the ruby on her necklace began to glow, “And you are trespassing.”

“I am simply visiting an old lover of mine.” She smiled smugly.

When the woman in gold was finally next to Red, she stood in front of him, as if to shield him from the witch, who’s hands began to spark with green light.

“Well now you’ve seen him. Leave my forest. And never return.” A gold hue began to glow from the woman in gold, “I will not ask again.”

Laura glared, she seethed in silent rage as her words were thrown back at her. In the blink of an eye, she raised her hands up, the woman in gold didn’t flinch as bursts of green magic were aimed straight for her.

Flashes of green and gold light collided, a shield of gold blocked Luara’s assault. The witch’s eyes widened a fraction, the woman in gold returned it with an enigmatic smirk. The green light stopped, Luara’s nostrils flared in anger. The gold light created a barrier between them. The woman in gold turned to Red, her eyes searched for any pain in his, “Are you alright?”

Red gave a grunt in response, “I’ve felt worse…”

“I hate that it’s true.” The woman in gold gave a rueful smile. She looked down to the arm clutch against his chest, gently pulling away. Almost touching the wound, her hand began to glow a soft warm light, healing his aching ribs.

Green magic clashed with the gold barrier, Luara grunted as she was pushed back, her feet skidding across the snow. The woman gold turned to look at the witch, her glare returning. Luara began to sweat as she struggled, Luara’s magic couldn’t hold on, shattering before her very eyes. The force pushed her back several feet away from them.

The warm light stopped, Red rose to his feet, his eyes trained on the witch, reaching for his bow and arrows. “Why don’t you just kill her?”

“I am the Guardian of the woods, I can’t harm any living creature!” She answers briskly, her wrists flicked as a tree comes to life, its vines wrapping around Luara’s ankle as she tried to stand, “ I can only protect life not destroy it!”

“Well isn’t that helpful!” He said sardonically. He fired an arrow, Luara’s magic burned, the vines to green flames, it stopped the arrow.

Luara’s hands moved, forming the shape of a weapon, a green magic formed a dark lance, she threw it towards them. It stopped short, landing a few feet from, the lance burst into black crows with three glowing green eyes. And they were flying straight for them.

“Oh bloody moon.” He snarled. The woman in gold eyes narrowed, her forehead creased in concentration. She stood tall, opening her right hand, gold light burst out just as the crows reached her. The crows glowed gold, turning into beautiful golden humming birds with shimmering red feathers on their bellies, flying away.

Luara’s assault paused, she stared at the Golden Doe in something Red had never seen in her eyes. Fear. Luara was afraid. Red felt a smug grin creep unto his lips. The golden doe saw her chance.

A surge of gold light left the Lady of the woods, colliding with the witch, and dragging her away. The ruby in the necklace began to pulsate, a ripple of the same light gently flowed through the forest, a protective golden barrier forming around the entirety of the forest. Forever banning Luara from ever stepping foot into her forest again.

Red released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Panting, he looked at the woman in gold, she looked at him.

“You couldn’t have casted that barrier before she stepped foot in here?” He snarked out.

The woman in gold only chuckled. “I could only do it once I could feel their magical auras.” A beaming smile on her face, her chest rising and falling as she took deep breaths

“I thought you were a mute.” He eyed her questioningly.

“Sometimes silence is the only voice that people will listen to.” She answered softly.

Red was silent for a long while. Five hundred years ago, he wouldn’t have wanted to converse with anyone, preferring to be alone. Too afraid to be around anyone. But she wasn’t human, and she offered silent companionship. It was what he needed. He nodded his head, accepting her answer.

“Thank you, for everything.” He spoke.

She only shook her head, offering him a gentle smile. Her smile faltered when a flash of green lightning rippled across the golden barrier. Red starred in the direction of the source, his eyes grew cold.

“She can’t get past the barrier Red…” she tried to offer him reassurance, “anyone else can but her. It will keep her out of the woods forever.”

The air around Red became thick, he glared in the direction of green magic, trying to break through. Without a word, he turned away, walking deeper into the forest. The woman in gold watched silently as he walked away. A humming bird from before landed on her shoulder.

“Look after him.” The bird chirped before the tiny bird flew after Red, landing on his shoulder. He didn’t look back. The Lady of the Woods only weeped for her friend. The witch had wounded him again, just when he was beginning to heal.

The years flew by. Red hadn’t left the mountain or forest. They carried on with caring for their forest. The years turned into a century, Red still wondered why Luara wanted to free him of the curse. The Golden Doe could not offer answers. The Golden Doe encouraged him to continue his travels. She then implored him to travel out of the woods at least once every century, even if it was to the nearby village Norwich. He refused.

“Give me your sword.” She held her hand out, expectant. With a sigh, Red placed the sword in her hands. Taking the blade out from its sheath, she gently ran her fingers along the blade, a gold sheen reflected on the surface. Without a word she returned him the blade.

“What did you do?” He asked, lifting the blade to the sunlight. The gold sheen reflected his ice blue eyes.

“It will now deflect magic, like a mirror. She cannot harm you with this.” She spoke quietly, turning away, the humming birds following close behind.

She asked him again, to continue his travels. Red accepted. And he did every century.

He would always return in a month, and would stay up on the mountain. He grew distant, refusing to speak more than he had too. His temper grew worse. The Lady of the Woods grew distressed as her friend began to change into a man who had no will to live. She couldn’t bear the sight of it. When Red left the mountain, he searched for her, near the edges of the forest, up the mountain, and the lake. But the Golden Doe, the Lady of the Woods was nowhere to be found. He wondered if she had left him. He wouldn’t be surprised. The creatures of the forest didn’t fear him, so he took to protecting the forest in her place. He never saw her again.

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mobius-prime · 4 years ago

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253. Sonic the Hedgehog #184

Chaos Angel

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Jason Jensen

As Enerjak and Super Sonic take off to begin their epic duel for the fate of the world, their clash causes an explosive beam of light to shine so brightly it's seen as far away as Albion (which, if you'll recall, is located somewhere around the area of modern-day England, whereas we're currently closer to New York), which Nicole barely raises the New Mobotropolis shield in time to deflect. Super Sonic snaps Enerjak's staff, and when Enerjak blasts him with a wave of deadly energy in response, he casually reminds him that in his Super form, he's totally invulnerable, making this essentially a stalemate battle between two living gods. Below, Julie-Su is shocked that Sonic survived the blast, but Locke is grumpy and hopeless, saying again that Sonic should have let him kill Enerjak with the Brotherhood's weapon while they had the chance.

It's amazing how clueless and callous Locke is here. I mean, I expected nothing more from him, really, especially given that he has yet to reach the point of redemption that he did in the M25YL timeline on his deathbed, but still, he doesn't even seem to show a single ounce of remorse that this is what his son has become. As the battle rages on, the Destructix watch from somewhere else on the island, and decide they definitely don't want to get caught up in it (which, really, I can't blame them).

Scourge reveals his supercharged warp ring, with enough energy to warp them to another zone entirely, and when Fiona expresses some doubt about leaving Mobius he merely reminds her that the ongoing battle is a battle for the fate of the world, and it's better for them to take their chances elsewhere. She decides to tag along for some "fun," which is after all the reason she left Sonic for Scourge, while Super Sonic continues to try to beat some sense into Enerjak above. He manages to get a yell of "crunch time" from him, giving him hope that his plan to bring Knuckles back is working, but it's not fast enough, making him worry. Julie-Su and Archimedes teleport to the Master Emerald's shrine, which has mysteriously been transported from the Chaos Chamber to become a small island floating in its own right at the edge of Angel Island (it's literally not explained at all how this happened, but I'm assuming it's Ian's creative license to once again make the world of the comics conform to that of the games a little more). They confront Finitevus, who merely states that even if he wanted to stop this, he couldn't by now, as the hex he put on the Master Emerald totally enslaved Knuckles' mind when he tried to tap into its power. He's uncertain about why the hex didn't affect Sonic when he transformed, but is mostly unconcerned, as his plans are proceeding regardless.

Finitevus, I don't think you understand one bit what actual heroes are like. Julie-Su and Archimedes immediately start arguing over which one of them will die in order to bring Knuckles back, with a baffled Finitevus looking on. Locke then rounds the corner, having arrived unseen, and announces that he, in fact, will sacrifice himself, finally regretting what he has brought on Knuckles with his actions in trying to protect him from the devastated future he foresaw. Finitevus, enraged, leaps forward to attack the three of them in an attempt to stop them, but Archimedes grabs onto him and poofs him away, leaving Julie-Su and Locke momentarily alone. Locke sadly looks down at Julie-Su, and explains that for all their extreme methods, in the end the Brotherhood really did love every single member, and only ever wanted the best for Knuckles. Julie-Su begins to cry as Locke takes his place atop the emerald, and begins reciting Tikal's prayer one last time.

Okay, I'm just gonna say it. As much as I genuinely liked Locke's deathbed scene in M25YL, I think this is a much better version of his death, narratively. It's also ten times more heartbreaking. The last time Knuckles ever spoke to his father, Locke hit him with a thinly-veiled threat to his family's safety, and Knuckles punched the screen and screamed at him in response. And now, without a chance to ever apologize or say goodbye, Locke is gone, having sacrificed his life to save his son. I have never doubted for a moment that Locke truly does love Knuckles and has always done everything with the best of intentions, which is precisely why I always felt he would make a better villain than a hero. The Sonic series, as much as I love it, is sorely lacking in three-dimensional villains, with most being either like Eggman - wanting to conquer the world - or Finitevus - wanting to watch it burn. Locke, as I've gone over before, would have been a fantastic antagonist. I think it very true that the best villains are the ones we can relate to in some way. Loving your child and wanting the best for them is very relatable to many people, and permanently messing up your child because of trying to do the best for them is a very real fear for the majority of parents. And Locke realizing this at the end of his life and then giving up said life for the sole purpose of undoing everything he helped to cause is the logical narrative conclusion of this character arc. Because of this, I think Ian ultimately writes Locke much better than did Kenders, despite Locke being based on Kenders' father (which is why I kind of feel bad even saying this, but eh, I've already made the argument that he should have been a villain, I don't think I can make it much worse from here). And as sad as this is, it just gets worse as Knuckles regains his right mind and returns to the ground, asking Julie-Su where his father is. Julie-Su merely starts sobbing and babbling incoherently about how she couldn't stop him, and just as horrible understanding begins to dawn on Knuckles, Finitevus returns through a warp ring, incensed that Locke stopped his plans after all. He yells that with his luck, Knuckles will even remember his time as Enerjak, to which Knuckles furiously replies that he remembers -

An exit fitting for one such as Finitevus. Julie-Su tentatively says that they should head back down to New Mobotropolis to let everyone know that the day's been saved, but Knuckles curtly cuts him off, refusing and claiming that as the last living Guardian of Angel Island, he's never leaving this island again, and he'll guard the Master Emerald alone for the rest of his life. And thus, we've finally come full circle. Knuckles started out as the lone Guardian of the island with no one else to help him, and now he's become such once again. Come on though, man, for real - your father sacrificed himself so you could have your own life free of the destiny he's forced on you, don't immediately try to isolate yourself!

Anything

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Stingray Grafik Wurks

Well, there's still one loose end we have yet to tie up - namely, the fate of the Dark Legion. While those who were happy to be free of their cybernetic trappings were transported to Albion, those who regret losing them have remained with Lien-Da, who now seeks the help of a mysterious figure to get her people's way of life back. Her speech is actually quite fascinating, because for basically the first time we actually get to see what a lifelong member of the Legion thinks of their own history, without immediately being made out to be a cackling evildoer. Turns out… their position is kind of reasonable.

I mean, I did just go over why Locke, and thus by extension the Brotherhood, are not really good people. I don't think they're evil - misguided, more like - but it's clear that in the end, extremism was the name of the game on both sides of the technology debate, and if anything both sides have only gotten more extreme over the past several hundred years. Ultimately, while the Dark Legion has absolutely employed some really messed up methods in their pursuit of their goals, their actual ideology is not unreasonable at all. In the end, they really were just a group of people who didn't want to tacitly accept being thrown back to the stone age by their government, and rebelled when said government - a literal theocracy, if you'll recall - created an entire goddamn task force operating outside of the normal legal system to try to drag them all into a world without technology regardless. I mean, literally, think about it right now - if your government, after a bad incident with one scientist going nuts and trying to seize power, in response decided to ban all technology and mandate that everyone had to regress back to a medieval lifestyle, how many of you reading this, right now, would just accept it and give everything up? And how many more of you would say "No way in hell is this okay" and join a revolution? Use technology in secret, rebel, fight for your right to live life as a modern human being with modern comforts? The Legion was twisted over time into a force that fought for all the wrong reasons, looking for power instead of freedom, but in the end, they were more wronged than anyone else in this whole debate, and absolutely had a right to be angry over the way they were mistreated.

Lien-Da, treacherous nature aside, clearly does believe in her people's way of life, and so she crafts a deal with her mysterious contact - if he makes her the Grandmaster of the Legion, a title which she feels she deserves after watching her late brother and the decrepit Dimitri take the reins before her, she'll join his cause and have her soldiers act as his new ground forces since his were destroyed by Enerjak. Gee, I wonder who this mysterious figure could be? Ah, what the hell am I acting all coy for, it's Eggman, naturally, and he's more than happy to accept this deal. However, to Lien-Da's incredulous disappointment, the position of Grandmaster has already been filled - by none other than Dimitri! Yeah, Eggman's given him some upgrades, turning his dreadlocks into bizarre tentacle-like appendages sticking out from his head bubble. Aw, yeah, Eggman, no need to give him a proper body or anything like that, just give him hair tentacles, it'll be fiiine!

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 184 #writer: ian flynn #pencils: tracy yardley #colors: jason jensen #colors: aimee r ray #colors: joshua d ray

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peachesandcreamsthings · 4 years ago

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Sand Pit and Summon · Mythical Lives

⛱ Genre: Fluff. Angst. Fae!Jimin. Devil!Taehyung. Witch!Yoongi. MythicalCreatures!AU. 🧙🏻‍♀️ Word Count: 4.5 K ⛱ Warnings: Bullying. Physical and Verbal Abuse. Blood. Cursing. Inaccurate representation of Witchcraft. Please do not read if it makes you uncomfortable. Please read with caution. 🔮 Author’s Note: The second installment of Mythical Lives is finally here! Took me a while to find the will to write this as this is heavier compared to the stories that I usually write, but I made it! I hope you enjoy it. Comments and Feedbacks would be greatly appreciated💜

Jimin sighed for the nth time that day, he was currently at school and it was almost lunch. Bored out of his mind, he zoned out. Charming spells did not seem as interesting as it usually was to the young Fae and all he wanted to do was to go home and nap until dinner was ready or even hide in Yoongi hyung’s bedroom. Jimin turned his gaze away from his desk to the classroom, his classmates were all sitting in pairs, with him as an exception. Some of them were paying attention to Mrs. Merlin, while others were busy playing with their seatmates. The young Fae frowned at the fact that he had to sit at the back of the class alone with no one sitting next to him. Mrs. Merlin said that it was because he had transferred to the school in the middle of the semester. Jimin felt lonely— he wanted to have someone to sit next to him too, but being the timid young Fae that he was, he couldn’t speak up.

The bell finally rang and Jimin sighed in relief, at least it’s closer to the end of the school day. Jimin stood up and brushed off his uniform. He braced himself for the busy wave of young creatures as he stepped out of the classroom. Being small due to his Fae nature, he hated walking through the hallway during lunch time as it was one of the busiest times in school— packed with young mythical creatures who attended the same school as him, not to mention how aggressive they could get due to their empty tummies. After finding a gap, Jimin managed to throw himself in the busy hallway. He tried to pick up his pace before he could get trampled in a sea full of young creatures. However, his pudgy legs could only keep up for a few moments until he tripped. Jimin whined— irritated at the fact that he tripped again as it was a common occurrence for him to trip or slip while trying to navigate the busy hallway.

“You alright?”

Jimin whipped his head to the voice to find an older boy, crouching with his hand stretched out for Jimin to take. Relieved, Jimin nodded and took the hand as the boy pulled him up.

“Thanks, Yoongi hyung.” Jimin mumbled.

“That’s okay, Dimminie.” Yoongi smiled, showing his gum and dental brace— the culprit to his slight lisps. He then took Jimin’s pudgy hand and wrapped it in his own, guiding the younger boy to escape the sea full of young creatures.

Jimin huffed as they exited the hallway, heading to the playground where it wasn’t as busy as the hallway or the lunch room. The younger boy tugged on the older boy’s hand, leading him to the swings.

“Have you had lunch?” Yoongi asked, concerned for the younger boy’s wellbeing. Yoongi has known Jimin for years and he knew that the young Fae was quite fussy when it came to food.

Jimin shook his head, and sat on the empty swing. “Not hungry.”

“You need to eat your lunch, Diminnie,” Yoongi huffed, sitting on the other swing next to Jimin with his lunch in his hands. “That’s how you grow!”

The Fae whipped his head to the side to face the older boy, his face full of surprise, “I can grow if I eat my lunch??”

Yoongi nodded, before handing him the other half of his sandwich. “Here, you can have some of mine. It’s bacon and eggs sandwich.”

“Mummy said that I won’t grow as tall as you cause I’m a Fae…” Jimin said, still confused as he took the sandwich from the older boy’s hand, “Thank you, hyung.”

Yoongi winced internally, knowing that Jimin’s mother wasn’t really lying but he didn’t want to hurt his younger friend’s heart, so he lied instead. “That’s not true. You’ll be as tall as me when you turn eight, trust me.”

“I trust you!” Jimin said cheerfully, his eyes glittering with innocence as he started to dig in on the food in his hands. “Can I come over after school?”

“Of course, Diminnie.” Yoongi mumbled, his mouth full of bacon and eggs sandwich.

Taehyung whimpered at the sight in front of him. Living in Hell seemed fun to other young mythical creatures his age, but he hated it— The sight of people suffering, hearing their screams, the heat, the barren land and the eternal fire— it didn’t suit him. Taehyung loved the human world— he loved the flowers, the blue sky, and the bakeries. He had never experienced it himself but he knew all these from the story books smuggled into Hell by his older sister who had been working with the witches in Beaumont, a small town closest to the Portal.

“Move, boy!” A man roared as he shoved Taehyung to the side, causing the young demon to whimper at the shrill of the man’s voice and the rough impact of his action, as the man guided a bunch of sinners to their final destinations. “Scram!”

Taehyung immediately stood up and moved as soon as he heard the Demon. Tears pooled in the young demon’s eyes as emotions flowed in his system. He clenched his fists and jaw as he picked up his pace, letting his little legs to carry him away from the Demons. Taehyung couldn’t understand why such a place existed in the universe and he couldn’t accept the fact that he was a part of it. Years and years of constant harsh criticism from his dad for not being the young demon that he could be proud of and also the torment he received from the fellow young demons crossed his mind and it made him feel trapped and isolated. I hate it here, I hate it here, I hate it here, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hat—

“Taehyung?” A voice called out softly.

The young demon snapped his head in the voice’s direction, losing his train of thought. He looked around only to find himself standing in front of his older sister. “Oh…”

“You alright?” The older demon asked, her voice filled with worries at the sight of her younger brother. She then pulled him into her arms as soon as she spotted the tears that pooled in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Taehyung sobbed as soon as he was pulled into his older sister’s embrace, he circled his arms around her neck and hid his face on her chest as he continued crying. “I… I hate it here.”

“Oh, Tae…” Taehee softened at the revelation as she rubbed his back.

This wasn’t the first time that Taehyung had a breakdown over this matter. His sister knew that he hated being here— he hated the way their father treated him and he hated the bullying that was caused by his fellow young demons. Taehee wished that there was something that she could do to help but unfortunately her father was too stubborn to listen and she knew the young demons were just a bunch of little meanies due to their evil trait.

“Taehyung, listen to me,” Taehee put her younger brother at an arm’s length, her voice strict, making sure that he would be looking into her auburn eyes. “I know that this is hard, but I promise you that once you’re my age, you can escape Hell. You can work with the witches and you won’t have to come back to Hell unless it’s necessary. I promise you that.”

The young demon nodded at his older sister’s statement and sniffled as he felt better after the reassurance that Taehee gave him.

“So until then, I need you to be strong and I need you to hold on.” Taehee said cheerfully as she wiped the tears sliding down his cheeks. “Promise?”

Taehyung hesitated. He wasn’t sure that he could be strong enough to go through the torment that was caused by his father and his friends. Gnawing on his bottom lips, the young demon’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know…”

The older demon clicked her tongue at her younger brother and booped his nose, “Come on, I promised you that you’ll get to escape and work with the witches when you grow up.”

“That’s what I ask in return for my promise, Tae. I don’t break my promises.” She continued, “And you know that nothing is free in life, right?”

Taehyung nodded, knowing that fact well enough as it had been drilled into his head by his evil father as soon as he was able to talk.

“I can… try?” He said, still unsure whether or not he could fulfill his promise. The younger knew how important promises were and hence he would only promise someone when he was sure that he could fulfill it.

“I guess that’s good enough, for now.” His sister snorted and straightened up after matching to her younger brother’s eye level. She then gently took the younger’s hand, before wrapping it in her larger one. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Jimin winced at the slam of the door as he sat on Yoongi’s bed while the older boy left the room to ask his mum for some refreshment for the both of them. Looking around, the young witch’s room wasn’t as messy as it normally would, the young Fae assumed it was because the older was reprimanded by his mum. Still, books were scattered on his desk— some opened and some neatly stacked in one corner, and being the curious little Fae he was, he glanced at the messy pile. Jimin knew that Yoongi didn’t like anyone looking at his books. It’s witchy business, the older boy said once. However, the fact that his hyung was so secretive about his witchy business made him want to know even more. Yoongi never kept any secret from him, afterall. Biting his lips, Jimin started to consider his options— he could take a little peek at one of the books while Yoongi was away or he could be a good little boy and respect his hyung’s wishes. Maybe if the older boy is in a good mood, he might be able to show Jimin a few little spells he learned in school.

After considering her options, he figured that being a Fae meant that he could probably charm his way with the older boy. Hence, he stood up from the bed and headed to where Yoongi’s desk was located. The young Fae paused and sharpened his senses to avoid being caught by the young Witch. Once Jimin was sure that Yoongi was nowhere near his room, he then turned to the spell books. He traced the letters on the front page of each book, trying to find one that was interesting enough for him. Potions 101. Nope. How to Use your Broom. Boring. Spell books. Meh. Mythical Creatures 101. I’ve got one of these. How to Take Care of your Altar and Ritual tools. Ugh, he had to learn how to take care of them too? That sucks! Herbology 101. Huh, Namjoon hyung would ace this subj— Aha! Demonology 101. There it was— the book that caught Jimin’s attention, sitting on the bottom of one of Yoongi’s book piles.

Carefully, the Young Fae started to flip the pages. The first of the few chapters were mostly about Demon, their origins, and their history. Fascinating, Jimin thought as he briefly scanned through each paragraph. The curious boy’s pointed ears twitched once in a while as he read while he listened for Yoongi hyung’s arrival. Jimin kept on flipping each page carefully to avoid it being ripped, only pausing when he found something that interested him. How to summon a Demon— Chapter 13. Huh, this is interesting.

What you would need:

Chalk

Sigil of said Demon

Spell to summon said Demon

Offerings

Step 1: Draw a magical circle around you to protect yourself.

Step 2: Wear Sigil of the Demon you want to summon.

Step 3: Relax and clear your mind of any thoughts.

Step 4: Start chanting the spell to su—

“Dimminie, what are you doing?” Yoongi stood in the door, with a tray full of snacks and juice in hand before gasping. “Is that one of my textbooks??”

Jimin froze like a deer caught in the headlights. Oh no, he thought. “H-hyung, I-I’m sorry!” The young Fae exclaimed, “I was uh… I was just looking at the pictures, promise!!”

The older boy squinted and tilted his head, suspicious of his friend’s action. “What did I tell you about those textbooks?”

“That they are dangerous and I shouldn’t touch them…” Jimin mumbled, feeling guilty for not listening to his older friend.

Yoongi sighed and walked to his desk before putting the tray full of food down. He then faced the young and charming Fae, eyes searching for any emotion on the younger’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jimin said while he pouted, knowing well what Yoongi was doing as it was one of his habits, “ I’m okay. I didn’t see anything bad.”

Yoongi breathed out in relief, knowing that the younger didn’t get to see anything horrific that was written by his great great great ancestors. He knew that there were some nightmare inducing topics in some of the books and Yoongi didn’t want Jimin to see any of it.

“That’s good.” The young Witch said softly and took the book out of Jimin’s hands. “I don’t want you near those books, okay? It’s for good reason, trust me.”

“I’m sorry, hyung…” Jimin looked down, disappointed that Yoongi wouldn’t let him anywhere near those goddamn textbooks but also guilty for not listening to him in the first place. It’s just books, why won’t he let me read any of it?

The older boy nodded and grinned as he gestured to the tray, “I got you some of your favourite snacks. Let’s have some before I take you home!”

Jeongwon smirked at the weak boy crouched on the floor with his hands covering his head, satisfaction filled his whole system. He sneered as he heard the boy whimpered, “You’re weak. It’s disgusting.”

“P-Please stop…” Taehyung winced as he could feel the impact of Jeongwon’s actions. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to heal from all the injuries this time.

“Why should I?” Jeongwon snickered and with a snap of his fingers, Taehyung started to convulse helplessly. “You’re useless, ugly and weak. The Dark Lord would be offended to see such a weak Demon existed in his realm.”

“Oh wait, you don’t even deserve to be called a Demon.”

Taehyung gasped, his whole body felt like it had been thrown into the Eternal Fire. He couldn’t do anything to fight back. Jeongwon was 7 years older and stronger, he knew how to control and use his power to his advantage. The younger demon regretted coming to school today— he should’ve begged his sister to take him out of Hell. Taehyung screamed in agony, aside from feeling the burn, he felt like his body had been torn and ripped into pieces repeatedly. Dear Lucifer, please end my life. I don’t want to be here anymore, he begged. The boy cried and gasped. He would rather be gone from this realm than to stay here for another minute.

“Come on!” Jeongwon roared, his patience running thin. He wanted to have some fun, and yet Taehyung wasn’t willing to fight him back. This is getting boring. “Fight back, you coward! Use your power.”

“N-no, p-please!” Taehyung groaned and coughed. He could feel his body slowly giving out and at that moment, it seemed like it was the easiest thing to do— to give up.

The older demon sneered and snapped his fingers again, causing the torture to stop. Taehyung breathed a sigh of relief, grateful the torment had finally stopped, although the boy knew that Jeongwon wasn’t done.

“You’re so boring, you know that?” Jeongwon crouched in front of Taehyung. “And ugly— I mean look at those horns! They’re so tiny!” He laughed, mocking the younger as he tugged on Taehyung’s horns roughly, causing the latter to whimper.

Jeongwon hummed, as he stood up and circled the weakened boy, deep in thought. He looked at his environment— an empty cottage, located in the forest just behind the school. He was aware that no one would be able to interfere with what he was doing as no one would ever enter the forest since it was known as a cursed forest, which Jeongwon knew was a lie the elders created to scare young demons. Should I leave a scar? Or should I transport him somewhere? I’m sure I’ll be able to transport him with what I’ve learnt from class. Maybe I should do both! And more! Yes, that is a great idea and I am sure that Father will be proud of me.

The older boy kneeled in front of Taehyung and took his chin, forcing the younger to face him. Taehyung cowered in fear, but he was too weak to get out of Jeongwon’s grasp. He could only shiver in fear and avoid Jeongwon’s deadly stare. He wasn’t sure what the older boy was going to do— He could only hope that this will end soon and that he wouldn’t have to feel all the pain anymore. This wasn’t the first time that Jeongwon had done this to him and he knew well enough that this wouldn’t be the last time.

“Look at me, you coward.” Jeongwon spat, forcing Taehyung to look at him. “Look at me and remember this: You. Are. Worthless. You. Are. Disgusting.” The evil boy closed his eyes, preparing himself to inflict pain to his victim. He cracked his neck and took a deep breath, before looking deep into Taehyung’s eyes. Jeongwon smiled evilly, causing Taehyung to shiver from the sheer menace and wickedness. Being a Demon suits him a lot, Taehyung chuckled internally, feeling bitter and defeated.

Jeongwon traced a line on Taehyung’s face with his finger, from his forehead through his left eye and down to his cheek. Taehyung screamed from the pain, it burned him to no end, and it felt like he was being stabbed with a sword. He screamed and screamed and screamed. He had never felt anything this painful before. He thought that scraped knees were the most painful, but he was wrong, and it was far worse than being abused by his own Father. The pain was excruciating for the six years old boy to handle. Taehyung cried and screamed, and it didn’t help. He started crying blood and made the wound stung even more. He started to lose the sight on his left eye from the impact.

“No, no, no, please! I c-can’t… Please…” Taehyung begged the older boy— his hands stretched out trying to find Jeongwon, or anything to hold on to, “Please stop… I can’t see.. I-It’s dark!”

Jeongwon chuckled darkly.

“Goodbye, Taehyung, you weak bastard.” He said before snapping his finger for the last time.

Jimin gaped at the sight in front of him. It was messy, blood everywhere— on the sand, on the pit, on him, on the boy in front of him. His eyes widened in horror. It worked! It worked but what did I summon? Wait, I mean who! Oh my Goodness, why is he bleeding??

The young Fae looked around at his surroundings. The playground was empty as it was dusk— everyone had gone home and he was the only one there, squatting in the Sand Pit and trying to Summon a Demon— following the instructions from Yoongi hyung’s textbook. At first, he wasn’t sure if drawing stars and hearts as the Sigil, and cookies and milk as offering would suffice when it comes to summoning a Demon— but it seemed like it was working, since a boy whom he assumed would be a Demon as he had horns on his head, appeared not long after Jimin chanted ‘Open Sesame’ repeatedly.

“Okay… Think, Jimin. You need to help him!” Jimin stood up slowly, panicking at the bloody sight in front of him. The young Demon seemed to be unconscious so Jimin wasn’t too worried about the boy attacking him, but still, he was concerned and beyond sad to see a boy around his age to be in this condition. The young Fae started to breathe heavily, anxiety and panic flooding his system. Uhh, what do I do? What should I do? What would Yoongi hyung do in this situation?? Should I get someone? Oh no, no! What would I say if they ask where this boy came from?? I can’t tell them I summoned him!

“Oh, gosh!” Jimin jumped up and down, his mind and heart were all over the place. He then kneeled next to the young Demon and started to gently brush the sand away from his face. Jimin gasped as he finally noticed a gaping wound across his left eye. He had never seen anything this gruesome before and he couldn’t believe that someone was mean enough to inflict pain to others. Before Jimin knew, tears flowed down his chubby cheeks. He was filled with anger and sadness. He was angry at the person who caused this Demon boy pain. He was sad to see the boy suffer. His heart was broken at the sight of the unconscious boy. “Oh.... What did they do to you…?” He questioned the young Demon sadly, still carefully brushing the sand away.

Jimin realised that at times like this, the only person he could only count on was Yoongi. He knew that the older boy wouldn’t be happy at him for summoning a Demon, but he couldn’t care any less. Jimin would gladly receive the silent treatment from the Witch as long as they could save the boy’s life. The young Fae scrambled to his feet, his pudgy hands shoved into the pocket of his dungarees. After finding the crystal that was given to him by Yoongi, he then covered it with both of his hands. Jimin closed his eyes, as he murmured wholeheartedly, “Please, help.”

The young Fae could feel the crystal starting to warm in his tiny hands after rubbing it for a while. I’ll be there soon. You’re doing great, Diminnie. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he heard the older boy. It’s working. Jimin snapped his head down as soon as he heard a groan. He could see the boy was in excruciating pain with his face all scrunched up.

Jimin gasped and scrambled to his knees, kneeling next to the boy, “Hey, hey. You’ll be okay. What’s your name?”

“W-where am I?” The boy asked as he came into consciousness, his voice hoarse.

“You’re in Beaumont. You’re safe. I’m Jimin, what’s your name?”

The boy could only groan in response. “N-none of your b-business!”

“Diminnie!!” A voice yelled from the corner, causing Jimin to tear his gaze from the young Demon. Yoongi was breathless— it seemed like he ran straight to the playground near his house as soon as he heard Jimin asking for help.

“Dear Lord!” Yoongi gasped as soon as the bloody sight unfolded in front of him.

“Hyung, please, help…” Jimin cried as he gestured to the young Demon, “I d-don’t know… I t-tried to s-summ—”

The young Witch walked slowly into the sand pit, his eyes glued to the injured boy. He was horrified, but he tried to stay calm for the sake of Jimin and to not freak the Demon out. “We don’t have time, Diminnie. We need to help him.”

“Here, take my jacket, put it around him.” Yoongi said as he took his jacket off, handing it to Jimin before continuing softly, “Can you get up? Let me help you.”

“W-who are you?” The boy questioned harshly, he tried to get away but his whole body was in pain. He couldn’t get away. “Why should I t-trust you?”

“I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi. I’m a Witch.” He softened, before pointing to the young Fae. “He’s Dimin. Park Diminnie. He’s a Fae.”

“Please, let us help you.” Yoongi begged the boy, his voice desperate. “We can’t leave you like this. I promise I won’t ask you for your name.”

The injured boy froze, tempted at the offer but still wary of the strange boys who were so willing to help him, despite the fact that he appeared out of nowhere.

“You know what, I don’t care.” Yoongi snapped, his patience running thin and his emotions running high. “I’m going to take care of you. Come Diminnie, get him up.” He continued, before lifting the injured boy up as he worked with Jimin.

“We’ll take him to my house. My mum can help.” Yoongi explained as they started to walk out of the playground to the streets.

The injured boy choked out as they helped him walk, one boy on each side, “So this is Beaumont huh?”

“Uh-huh!” Jimin replied, sounding too cheerful compared to the situation at hand. “Welcome to Beaumont!”

His cheerful greetings caused the young Demon to chuckle, “Thanks. I wish I wasn’t covered in blood, though.”

“Don’t worry about that, boy.” Yoongi smiled softly, “We’ll help you get cleaned up, and we’ll help you heal.”

“We sure will!” Jimin nodded, excited to help his new friend.

The walk from the playground to Yoongi’s house didn’t take long. The three boys were busy talking to get to know each other— Jimin was busy to explain what Beaumont looked like as the young Demon wasn’t able to see. The young Demon was busy asking questions, wanting to know more and more about Beaumont and its residents, while Yoongi was just listening to their discussion fondly. As soon as they got to the young Witch’s house, they were welcomed by his mother.

“Oh, dear!” Yoongi’s mother shrieked, before ushering the boys inside, “Here, bring him to the kitchen, Yoongi. Up on the table, Yes.”

Taehyung groaned as he felt himself being gently hoisted to the table with the help of strangers. He felt too weak to question what was going on so he gave up and let whom he assumed as Yoongi’s mother to help him.

“Jimin, I think it’s time for you to go home, love.” The female witch gently coaxed Jimin as her hands were busy preparing tools and herbs for Taehyung, “Your parents are going to be worried. It’s dinner time, isn’t it?”

“B-but Auntie!” Jimin protested, his eyes glued to the young Demon. “He’s my friend! I wanna be there for him!”

“I know,” Sehee smiled at Jimin. “He’s in good hands, though. You trust me, don’t you?”

“I do, but—”

“He’ll be okay, Jimin. Don’t worry.” Yoonseok, Yoongi’s older brother, said as he entered the kitchen, washing his hands and ready to help his mother. “Go on, go home. You can come and see him after school tomorrow.”

Jimin sighed, “Fine,” He said while pouting. “Bye, Auntie Sehee, Yoonseok hyung, and Yoongi hyung. Bye, Demon friend.”

After saying their goodbyes, Yoongi finally turned his gaze on the wooden table. He cringed, knowing well that they would have to get rid of it after this. Oh well, he thought.

“Ready, boys?” Sehee smiled widely at her two sons in front of her as she put her rubber gloves on. “Let’s save our new friend here, yeah?”

Yoongi and his brother could only sigh at their mother’s excitement. Here we go again.

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bisexualklausmikaelson · 5 years ago

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it scares me to think you could love someone the way i love you

a/n: au after season 4 - or Catra and Glimmer are imprisoned together and learn to cope...through sex (glitra, mentions of glimmadora and catradora). 1.6k words, slight-smut warning and slight-angst.

She sleeps next to Catra but she dreams of Adora.

Of gold-spun hair, of starry blue eyes, of a smile that cuts sharper than a knife.

(Adora is poetry in motion - a girl in the shape of a warrior and a voice that sings into Glimmer’s ears as she slumbers away. When her nights are the loneliest, she thinks of her friend. Things here, in this imprisonment are rough and torturous but at least she has Adora.

She will always have Adora).

The mornings are the most painful - the sun drips down, honey-suckle yellow and filters through the cracks of their stone-hard confinement box. And suddenly Glimmer realizes once again, that she’s trapped inside a nightmare. There is a slight breeze in the daylight, it makes her wonder about the pastel sky and what it’s like right now, outside these four walls.

“You’re awake,” Catra sleeps in the bed across from her, giving her a wide-eyed stare.

“Unfortunately,” Glimmer mumbles, turning to her side to face the cat-girl. “Sleep well?” she asks, in such a mundane fashion but, talking to her once-sworn-enemy every single day is normal in this world.

Because she really has no one else.

“I didn’t,” Catra softly says, yawning, “fall asleep, that is,” she adds on which immediately sends a warm red blush to Glimmer’s cheeks.

This means she probably heard her whispering Adora’s name throughout the night.

However, Catra doesn’t mention that - doesn’t mention the fact that she envies that at least the girl across form her has friends to dream about. Meanwhile, all Catra ever dreams about is fire.

“Oh,” Glimmer sighs. “I’m sorry,” she sadly says.

Catra takes in a sharp breath and exhales out ash. “It’s fine,” she offers. “I can try again anytime - after all, who knows how long we will be stuck in here,” Catra reminds her and it makes her even sadder.

Glimmer feels something tighten at the back of her throat and she swallows, hard. “About that,” she gulps. “How long do you think it been, since we first got thrown in here, I mean, ” she questions Catra.

“Hard to say,” she replies. “Days, maybe weeks?” Catra goes on to say.

A darkness closes in around Glimmer - she looks at Catra, really looks at her. She starts picturing her fingernails tracing the line of her jaw, down her neck. She pictures her hands around her, and she’s gagging, chocking down like there’s hair in her throat, crawling all the way down her larynx.

(She feels like she’s going mad - maybe she is or maybe, she’s just been here too long).

“Funny,” Glimmer tells her instead. “Feels like it’s been much longer,” she offers, trying her best to push her insane thoughts away.

Sometimes, it’s like falling down a rabbit hole.

Glimmer has nothing else to do - so her gaze lingers over towards Catra for much longer than she would like. Actually, she’d prefer if she didn’t look at her at all, she’s supposed to hate her. And the girl is evil, absolute malice from corner to corner, cheek to cheek.

But sometimes, she’s like a trail of light.

In this horrid cell where Glimmer has no one else, the cat-girl becomes her moonglow. She can can feel her fingers stroking along her arms and through her hair. It sends cold chills that last and all she can think of is fire - searing images into her mind like like bones sticking out the ground.

“You’re going to leave a mark,” Glimmer moans between kisses, between the fire that is Catra’s touch.

Her bites leave only a spark, but a spark is all she needs. It consumes her, eats everything in its path as she feels the girl clench and unclench around her bony knuckles - her other hand has her dress, pushing it up and revealing the creaminess of Glimmer’s thighs.

Catra looks up, with a raised brow. “Is that a problem?” she wonders, as she meets her gaze, unsteadily, eyes burning.

“Yes,” Glimmer gasps, still not accustomed to the fact that she had her greatest enemy down on her knees for her.

It could be poetic, in a sense - a sparkling princess and her fiery devil - only it isn’t.

Because it’s Catra and she knows exactly how to hurt her the most.

“Are you afraid Adora might see it?” she asks, shoving her fingers deeper inside, making the royal girl moan even louder.

“What?” she releases, unable to think straight, in this moment.

Catra passes her hot touch over the bite-mark she left on Glimmer’s thighs, if she looks close enough, it looks like a heart.

“You still think she’s coming to get you?” she asks, with a hand caressing the princess’s cheek.

Glimmer feels herself melting into Catra’s body.

“Of course she is,” she reluctantly answer, half-believing it, half-disbelieving it.

Her heart belongs to Adora, always and forever.

But her body is elsewhere.

Tip-toed feet make their way to her bed - when Glimmer is not crying into the night, she is begging for Catra’s carress, not with words but with her actions. With the extra space she leaves on her mattress for her, with the way she turns her head slightly over her shoulder, with the way she looks at her.

(Catra complies, crawling into bed beside the other girl and wrapping an arm around her waist. She goes to her princess without much dismay).

“What happens when we get back?” Glimmer looks at her as if she’s crescent-fallen. As if she’s crumbled into herself and dug her nails into the palms of her hands. Her heart swelling and thinking about reaching for the other girl, but she doesn’t.

“What do you mean?” Catra questions, tucking Glimmer’s cotton-candy soft hair behind her ear, fingers clumsy and slow and so un-Catra-like in every way.

“How do we explain this?” The princess asks. “Explain us?” she specifies.

The old Catra would want to scream - all passion and pent-up anger , scream for the girl who’s had her heart broken over and over again. Scream for wanting this moment to lasts longer. Scream for being a killer, a woman, a seventeen-year-old mess.

But instead, all she says is: “I haven’t thought about that, to be honest.”

Glimmer is silent for what seemed to be a very long time. She had to remind herself of who she was with but she just couldn’t remember anymore. “That’s all I ever think about,”she sighs, looking sad.

“We’re going to be okay,” the monster in her bed whispers to her, electric-eyed and full of lust and desire. “You and I,” she, unexpectedly, offers her a smile.

Glimmer’s fingers are caught in the mess that is the wild cat’s hair, all tangled together and twisted - pulling her closer towards her, almost as if she wanted to fuse together with her.

“You’re so different here,” she murmurs, tucking her head under Catra’s chin. “It’s nice,” she murmured again, closing her eyes and inhaling her scent.

Sometimes, Glimmer thinks she doesn’t want to go back

Catra steals kisses from her.

She leans back into her - wraps a palm around the back of her neck, eyes closed. There’s a sudden flash of light that blinds her even through closed lids. It feels like there’s a long line of heat at her back, skin sticking to skin, sweat dripping down as she breathes hard and fast.

Glimmer hates her for it, for making her so wild-eyed and hungry and desperately wanting to grind her face against her dripping wet -

“I’m almost there,” Glimmer exhales, as Catra’s fingers draws sinful circles around her clit.

“C’mon Sparkles,” she breathes in to her ear, “come for me,” she orders and it makes the princess finish so fast she almost cries out.

She can’t stand how the other girl so easily gets under her skin.

(Catra can make her come, can make her cry, can make her beg for the most unholy things - but, in the night, it is still Adora’s name that she whispers in her sleep).

They’re being transported to another cell.

Catra kicks and screams while she’s being dragged away and another guard holds Glimmer back - they couldn’t do this to her - they couldn’t take her too. Not after every thing, not after losing her mother, all her friends, her kingdom -

She coudln’t lose Catra too.

Glimmer’s new cell is much smaller. She doesn’t know if isolation is this place’s latest torture method for her, but whatever it is, it’s working. She realizes that she had once been human and beautiful - full of light and life. She had once loved a monster too - a monster so feared and who made her feel so alive. She couldn’t explain it - she would laugh, if the world were not so very cruel.

(In the distance, there is a hero and a heroine making their way towards them. Heavy feet and loud steps, a brightness so blinding it’s almost self-destructive in its nature.

“Glimmer, are you in there?” Adora whispers, golden locks hanging down the wide open crack of her cell.

“We’re here to save you,” Bow says, to the empty air.

And suddenly, out of the rumble and destruction, crawls out this girl covered in dust.

“Hey Adora,” Catra sings in the same way she always does, making the blonde realize just how great of a mistake she had made).

#spop #glitra #catradora #glimmadora #glimmatradora #glimmer #catra #adora #she ra #glimmer x catra #glimmer x adora #adora x catra #munea writes

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newmusickarl · 4 years ago

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Album & EP Recommendations

Album of the Week: Chemtrails Over The Country Club by Lana Del Rey

For years, American singer songwriter Lizzie Grant, AKA Lana Del Rey, had always threatened to, but never quite delivered her classic album. From breaking onto the scene in 2011 up until her brilliant but uneven Lust For Life album, she had built up a catalogue of truly great songs, but her own masterpiece had ultimately alluded her. That however all changed a couple of years ago in 2019, when Lana finally delivered the simply magnificent, Norman Fucking Rockwell (NFR). That album was Lana’s magnum opus, a poignant collection of modern American anthems that people will still be listening to at the end of the next decade.

That year, NFR would go on to top multiple year end critics’ lists, as well as featuring in the Top 20 and Top 50 of almost a hundred others. This includes myself, as I had NFR in the number three spot on my Albums of the Year list for 2019. The big question is then, how do you follow up a record as universally acclaimed and as masterfully crafted as that album? This is the question Lana emphatically answers on Chemtrails Over The Country Club, her eighth studio album which feels almost as special as the one that preceded it.

Having worked with a range of producers on her albums up until NFR, it is almost as if Lana just needed the right one to unlock the full potential of her unique style. She got that with Jack Antonoff, who really does an incredible job of knowing exactly when to flesh out the instrumentation or strip it back and put Lana’s voice front and centre – something he has since gone on to replicate with Taylor Swift on their recent folklore/evermore collaborations. Thanks to him, Lana really has never sounded better and the duo pick up right where they left off on NFR here on Chemtrails.

That said, where there were moments of expansive, almost cinematic production on NFR, on Chemtrails almost everything here is stripped back to basics. The instrumentation is minimal, with most of the songs on this collection putting Lana’s magical, timeless vocals against a simplistic backdrop of just a piano or an acoustic guitar. It ultimately makes for some of Lana’s most mesmeric and emotionally resonant songs to date, such as the sublimely nostalgic opener White Dress. Easily a career highlight, Lana adopts some sumptuous hushed, whispery vocals, reminiscing with her listener about her life before superstardom. An absolutely stunning track, that is then swiftly followed up by the equally gorgeous title track, which boasts another stellar vocal performance from Lana and a dizzyingly delightful waltzing melody.

There are just career-best moments littered across Chemtrails, with the country-tinged Wild At Heart and acoustic-driven Not All Who Wander Are Lost particularly standing out. The latter of these sees Lana deliver a sterling falsetto on the track’s first chorus, with the production giving off almost a live concert feel. At a tight 11 tracks in length there’s no space for any duff tracks either. Instead, Chemtrails packs in 10 faultless songs before fittingly culminating in Lana’s breathtakingly beautiful collaboration with her contemporaries, Zella Day and Weyes Blood, on the brilliant For Free.

All in all, expectations were impossibly high for Lana Del Rey’s follow up to Norman Fucking Rockwell, and although my initial feeling is that this record doesn’t quite match that album, it comes pretty damn close - which is still an incredibly high standard to reach. This is easily one of the best albums of the year so far and with another album, Rock Candy Sweet, supposedly due for release in June, 2021 looks set to belong to Lana in the same way 2019 did.

Songs From Isolation by A.A. Williams

If you’re looking for something similar after checking out Del Rey’s Chemtrails Over The Country Club, then look no further than the magnificent covers collection from British singer-songwriter A.A. Williams. Most artists would tremble in fear at the thought of covering iconic tracks by The Cure, Pixies, Smashing Pumpkins, Nick Cave, Radiohead and The Moody Blues to name but a few, however A.A. Williams isn’t most artists. Armed with just her piano and her hauntingly beautiful vocals, Williams takes on these titanic tracks head on, not only doing them all justice but delivering gorgeous, stripped back and original takes in the process.

House of Balloons by The Weeknd

Elsewhere this week, The Weeknd celebrated the 10 year anniversary of his breakout mixtape by releasing it on streaming services for the first time in its original form. If you are only familiar with The Weeknd’s later more popular releases, it is worth diving into this one and seeing how it all began, with an album that still more than holds up a decade later.

Horror Show by The Midnight

On the EP front, Electronic group The Midnight released Horror Show this week, a six-track release simply drenched in retro 80s nostalgia. From the neon-tinged synths and soaring electric guitar solos to the fun cover of Patti Smith’s Because The Night, this EP will have you grinning from ear to ear and wanting to take a trip to Black Mirror’s San Junipero, or re-watch Stranger Things from the beginning. If those shows had a musical equivalent, this would be it!

Elasticity by Serj Tankian

And finally on the long-play recommendations, System of A Down frontman Serj Tankian released a new solo EP of tracks originally written for the next SOAD record. This is political activism you will want to mosh to, arriving with all the energy, passion, big riffs and theatrical vocals you’ve come to expect from Serj’s unique music.

Tracks of the Week

Limbo by Royal Blood

Ahead of the release of their third studio album Typhoons, British rockers Royal Blood have dropped one of their most ambitious singles to date, with some hypnotic, psychedelic synths joining their typical heavy riffing.

Buzzcut by Brockhampton (featuring Danny Brown)

Everyone’s famous rap troupe has finally returned, with a hard-hitting new single bolstered by a killer verse from Detroit’s own master wordsmith, Danny Brown.

Last Day On Earth by Beabadoobee

The first track from a new EP co-written and co-produced by The 1975’s Matt Healy and George Daniel, Beabadoobee’s Last Day On Earth is a slice of lockdown-inspired indie-pop heaven.

In Circles by Holding Absence

The latest taster from The Greatest Mistake of My Life is hugely anthemic and packs a big singalong, mightily infectious chorus that will be trapped in your head for days.

Nervous by While She Sleeps (featuring Simon Neil)

Rivalling Holding Absence for the title of biggest anthem of the week are Sheffield-based metalcore outfit While She Sleeps, who have brought in Biffy Clyro’s Simon Neil for this monster new track.

Shake The Cage by Glasvegas

And finally this week, Scottish indie rockers Glasvegas continue their resurgence with Shake The Cage, a spoken-word, piano-driven number that steadily builds into an epic crescendo.

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juliaisabellphoto · 4 years ago

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My 2020 Albums of the Year

Never requested, always provided. Here are my favorites of 2020. Here’s the playlist.

The Secret Sisters, Saturn Return

As soon as I saw “Water Witch, featuring Brandi Carlile” on this tracklist I knew that the Secret Sisters would be a favorite of 2020. In February, I was staying with a friend in Nashville and she mentioned them as a local favorite, and when I stopped at Grimey’s to shop for records I came upon a signed copy of “Saturn Return.” I had never heard the Secret Sisters before, but there is nobody I trust more to recommend music than this Nashville friend of mine, so I bought it. I made no mistake here: this record blew me away. The soft, soulful, lullaby of “Healer in the Sky” pulled me through the pain of the first month of quarantine and soothed me as the world was turned upside down. In reading more on the record, this seems to have been the point: they say, “this album is a reflection of us coming to terms with how to find our power in the face of an unfair world… our hope is that women can feel less alone in their journey through the modern world.” There is something in the caramel-thick sweetness of these sisters’ voices that makes a listener feel as though they’ve been bewitched into calm. When I think of this album, I think of the cross-country drive I took at the beginning of the pandemic to make my way home and the happy moments that can be found in darkness. No album touched my heart this year in the way that “Saturn Return” did.

Taylor Swift, Folklore and Evermore

Taylor Swift… can even be said? Somehow, while we all sat on our couches in quarantine, this woman created not one but two musical masterpieces. She begins “the 1” by stating “I’m doin good, I’m on some new shit,” and that says a lot about the album as a whole. She created the 2020 we all wish we experienced: soft, sweet, and gentle. Listening to Folklore feels like visiting a cabin in the woods, with a fireplace well lit. Swift tells winding stories of love, hardship, and mystery and tenderly walks us through the forest of her imagination. This magical feeling was amplified by her release of The Long Pond Studio Sessions, a film in which Swift, Jack Antonoff, and Aaron Dessner finally play the album together for the first time after recording it entirely remotely. The setting matches the sound: they play in an album in the middle of the woods, cozy and hidden from the snow. Evermore cuts through the delicate ice of Folklore: it is the color to Folklore’s black and white. Swift combines the soft folk sound of “willow” with some of her country and Americana roots in “no body, no crime,” drawing us in once again. She includes Bon Iver singing in his lower register in Folklore and then in his falsetto in Evermore: two sides of the same magic coin. The work in these two albums is Swift’s strongest ever, and solidifies the fact that no modern artist can really reach her.

Chris Stapleton, Starting Over

Following a three-year hiatus, all lovers of southern rock deeply needed a Chris Stapleton album. In “Starting Over,” Stapleton yet again does what he does best: combines his unique whiskey-tinged growl with the best lyricism present in country music today. This record can’t be captured in any singular fashion, neither musically nor emotionally. The title track sets a high bar for the rest of the record with a reflection on re-remembering what really matters, a message certainly relevant for this turbulent year. Stapleton’s typical outlaw-country brand is present in full with “Devil Always Made Me Think Twice,” “Arkansas,” and “Hillbilly Blood,” but other songs take him in a completely new stylistic direction. “Maggie’s Song” takes on a very classic old-time country feel, as Stapleton weaves sweet and simple stories as he processes the loss of his pup. He harnesses the energy of the Chicks as he angrily lambasts the perpetrators of the 2017 mass shooting at Route 91. The song is a Stapleton-sponsored judgment day reckoning, including the cacophonic sound of a crowd in panic and the shrieks of a gospel choir. In contrast with this energetic high, Stapleton goes deep into his blues side by finally releasing “You Should Probably Leave,” a song he has been sitting on for six years. This one feels just right to sway around the kitchen to. With each listen to “Starting Over” I find new lyrics to write down and remember, new sounds to love.

Bad Bunny, YHLQMDLG

Bad Bunny. Our unproblematic reggaeton prince. In the wake of his many popular features and his collaborative album with J Balvin, Bad Bunny makes it clear that it is time for Balvin to share the throne of popular reggaeton. He features the original reggaeton king Daddy Yankee in “La Santa,” paying tribute to the very classic reggaeton style before mixing it and transcending beyond the classics in the following tracks. “Yo Perreo Sola” is the album’s standout track, accompanied by my favorite music video of 2020. The song is an ode to gender equality and the destruction of the patriarchal norms contributing to gender-based violence. “Yo Perreo Sola,” meaning “I twerk alone,” sets the overarching theme of consent present throughout the song’s lyrics. In the video, Benito’s backdrop references the Argentinian-born “Ni Una Menos” movement, a now global movement against gender-based violence. As if this wasn’t enough to make you adore him, the video further extends its activism to the LGBTQ community, with Benito appearing in full drag, in his normal attire, and at some points held in chains by women. He makes a statement about sexuality and gender expression in the video, twerking solo. The other jawdropper track on YHLQMDLG is Safaera, a perfect display of Bad Bunny’s skill in expanding the scope of reggaeton as a genre. In the same thirty seconds of the song, he subtly samples both “Could You Be Loved” by Bob Marley and the Wailers and Missy Elliot’s “Get Ya Freak On” - a segment I just can’t get out of my head. Bad Bunny’s prowess on this record is rounded out with the aggressive and prideful “P FKN R.” What a masterpiece.

Mac Miller, Circles

A posthumous record that never should have been posthumous. A companion-piece to Mac’s 2018 record “Swimming,” Circles takes a similar tone, one of resilience through pain. The title track serves as a somber introduction, followed by the funk energy of “Complicated” and the GO:OD AM energy of “Blue World.” The song that really got to me, and many other fans of Mac, was “Good News.” It is the pinnacle of Mac’s musical insight and talent. The melody matches the melancholy of the track, as Mac sings of his desire for time and space. The melancholy is matched in “Everybody” with the lines about death feeling particularly haunting in the wake of Miller’s accidental overdose. Somehow, Miller wrote the perfect eulogy for himself prior to his passing, one that will live in the hearts of his fans forever.

Kali Uchis, Sin Miedo (del Amor y Otros Demonios) ∞

I’m not quite sure what to call this record. If I just listened to “la luna enamorada,” a cover of a classic Cuban bolero, I would call it gorgeous. If I just listened to “fue mejor” featuring PARTYNEXTDOOR or “quiero sentirme bien,” I would call it sexy. If I just listened to “vaya con dios,” I would think she wrote the theme music for the next James Bond film. The bottom line of the record is Uchis’ absolute stunning use of her upper register. She hits notes that “Isolation” never would have foreshadowed, painting a dreamland for any listener. She slides back into the energy of her sophomore album in “telepatia,” but adds in moments of her new sound. She incorporates a slower reggaeton beat into no eres tu (soy yo), and dives into a heavier reggaeton sound in te pongo mal (prendelo.) My personal favorite of the record is “aqui yo mando!” with Rico Nasty: it is the perfect display of Uchis’ unique upper register combined with Rico’s trap style. Anyone passing this record up for another “Isolation” listen is missing out.

FLETCHER, The S(ex) Tapes

This record has a story like no other, coming from a woman like no other. This EP was recorded while Fletcher quarantined with her ex-girlfriend, who also happened to film all of the music videos for it. It is this messiness that makes The S(ex) Tapes absolute magic. Fletcher’s own description of the name of the release explains the situation best: “A sex tape is someone being captured in their most vulnerable, wildest, rawest form, and my ex has always captured me that way.” She captures all of the feelings of a breakup with someone you still love deeply, and the relationship relapse that comes with moving past those feelings. Fletcher’s special ability comes in representing these deeply painful experiences in an uplifting manner: this is a sexy pop EP meant to be danced to. Fletcher simultaneously validates all of the emotional tumult, but subtly nudges the listener toward blissful reckless abandon. It almost makes me wish I had a breakup to go through! The abrasive apathy of “Shh… Don’t Say It” and the flippant, angry vulnerability of “Bitter” are paired perfectly with Fletcher’s raw brand of distortion. In an interview with Nylon, Fletcher speaks to this: “Listen, I've done my fair share of just straight-up sad, crying in your bed music. I'm still going through shit, but I want to bop to it. We can still be emo and want to twerk at the same time.” Yes, Fletcher, we do.

Halsey, Manic

Prior to 2020, I wasn’t Halsey’s biggest fan. I wouldn’t have even called myself a fan. I just wasn’t that excited by her music. “I’m Not Mad” was the song that triggered a 180 for me. The heavy, dissonant kick of the drums and her raw, angry lyricism drew me in without hesitation. I suppose this was just the push I needed to fall in love with the rest of her music: the songs with similar bite, “Without Me” and “killing boys,” and the more raw side of the record in “You should be sad,” “929,” and “Graveyard.” Her vulnerability is so much of what makes this record perfect. The album fully made sense to me when I listened to her podcast feature on “Armchair Expert” with Dax Shepard. In it, she talks through the time period covered by the record and gives context to her powerful lyricism. “Manic” is a story of chasing someone she loved into drug-fueled oblivion, and then finally finding the power to leave. The album is brimming with this power, and I just can’t turn it off.

HAIM, Women In Music Pt. III

HAIM is THE soft rock band of the modern era.Women In Music Pt. III, their most mature album yet, solidified this opinion for me in a way that I didn’t expect. There is so much to be said for this record: it is innovative and skilled, with the perfect balance of softness and hardness. Though the record is one of pain and trauma, you wouldn’t know it purely from its melodies. “Don’t Wanna” is a very classic HAIM pop rock number, and “The Steps” follows suit making frustration fun to dance to. Though one may not notice at first, in this record HAIM dives deeper than ever before. “Now I’m In It” does a phenomenal job of sonically representing the feeling of being completely and utterly overwhelmed. “I Know Alone” is a beautifully intimate rainy-day account of Danielle’s struggle with depression. Then comes “3AM” - a lighthearted song about a booty call with Thundercat-type bass and an R&B vibe - just in case you didn’t already know how much range these three sisters have. Everything about this record is filled with talent.

Phoebe Bridgers, Punisher

Only Phoebe Bridgers could write a song about murdering a skinhead and fill it with nostalgia. “Garden Song,” the leading single preceding “Punisher,” foreshadowed a record that is just so very Phoebe: melancholy, vulnerable, and heart-wrenching. The eagerly awaited album certainly followed suit, with typical sad ballads “Halloween” and “Moon Song” played alongside more raucous, Better Oblivion Community Center-esque songs such as “Kyoto” and “ICU.” She goes bluegrass on “Graceland Too” with banjo, violin, and layered harmonies from boygenius collaborators Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker. In “Punisher,” Bridgers shares with us the wistful catharsis that she is so very talented at creating.

Noah Cyrus, THE END OF EVERYTHING

I always underestimated Miley’s little sister, but here I am writing about her EP before I write about Miley’s in my end of the year roundup. Every piece in this record gave me chills: Cyrus’ lower register allows her to access a somber kind of ballad that I just can’t get enough of. The record starts off at a peak with the slow burn of “Ghost” and somehow manages to get even better with “I Got So High That I Saw Jesus.” This powerful song, even better in the live version where Miley joins her younger sister, builds into an almost gospel-like ode to the idea that everything will be okay. “July,” the single featuring Leon Bridges that pushed Cyrus into the national spotlight, stands as the most beautifully layered song of the EP. The soft guitar picking and choral sound complement Cyrus’ upper register. The whole record, extending through the closing title track, is a comforting, soft emotional analgesic for 2020.

The Chicks, Gaslighter

This record is gorgeous. It is painful. The feelings Natalie Maines expresses in this record are feelings I have felt far too deeply in personal relationships, and they also are feelings everyone is feeling globally in 2020. “Gaslighter” is just straight up fun, a perfect extension of the Chicks’ energy found in “Goodbye Earl” and other older revenge numbers (but with an extra poppy Jack Antonoff twist this time.) “Tights On My Boat” is bitter, funny, and shows off Maines’ upper register with stripped guitar. “Sleep at Night” musically and lyrically embodies the pain of being betrayed. “Julianna Calm Down” is a stunning ballad of female resilience. “Texas Man” perfectly captures the bubbly feeling of moving on. “For Her” and “March March” fit in with the frustrated, betrayed, power-centered theme of the record in a very different way. The Chicks’ dualistic ability to discuss her ex-husband’s cheating alongside the band’s political views is what makes the record special: not only are we watching a woman try to move on and develop her personal strength, but we are also seeing this personal strength harnessed for political impact. They simultaneously denounce the abuse of power in both politics and relationships, while reclaiming that power for themselves in standing up for what they believe in. How very Chicks of them.

Dua Lipa, Future Nostalgia

Dua motherfucking Lipa. This woman would have been the official owner of 2020 had we been able to dance to this record at bars and clubs. This was proven ten times over by the success of the album’s first single, “Don’t Start Now,” a song that is absolutely the MOST fun. Or so I thought… until I heard “Physical,” “Levitating,” and “Break My Heart.” What poor timing for such a phenomenal dance record, but at least she gave the people some great material for Tik Tok dances! All COVID-dance-related concerns aside, this is a really well done sophomore album for Dua Lipa. The funk elements of the album most clearly seen in “Levitating” elevate Dua’s brand of pop to a new level. The all gas no brakes nature of this dance-pop record works wonders for her - she knows what the people want from her, and she delivers.

Megan Thee Stallion, Good News

THIS! RECORD! If WAP could be an album of the year, it would be, but it’s a standalone single and Megan Thee Stallion proceeded to release the next best thing. The explosion of Megan Thee Stallion has been a pleasure to watch in 2020, with both WAP and Savage leaving the charge. With an artist like her, it’s easy to get lost in the smash hits and ignore the prolific nature of her work. “Good News” is an immaculate rap album, brimming with sass and defiant bad bitch energy. “Shots Fired” kicks off the album with a Biggie sample and a diss to the man who shot her in the foot earlier in the year, personally my favorite track of the record. Other highlights of the record include “Don’t Stop” with a Young Thug feature, “Body” which is now a Tik Tok staple, and “What’s New.” Perhaps the most impressive work Megan does on “Good News” is “Girls in the Hood,” a rework of Eazy-E’s Boyz-N-The-Hood. She inverts the classic misogyny of the original song by emphasizing her control over men like Eazy-E in an indignant assertion of female power. This embodies Megan Thee Stallion’s essence: busting in on a male industry and making her presence known.

Rico Nasty, Nightmare Vacation

Nobody does it like Rico Nasty, and I’m convinced nobody ever will. I saw a New York Times headline titled “Can the Mainstream Catch Up to Rico Nasty?” the other day and I think the answer is a firm no. Rico is abrasive, rude, and outside the box in the absolute best way. Need an album to slap in the car when you’re feeling like a bad bitch? This. is. it. The record kicks off with “Candy,” a song with a wild beat and the iconic chorus line “Call me crazy, but you can never call me broke.” Following is a Don Toliver and Gucci Mane feature in “Don’t Like Me,” a song that truly should have hit the mainstream by now. She gets back to her signature scream-rap in “STFU” and “OHFR.” “OHFR” is the confident standout of the album, along with the reworked re-release of “Smack a Bitch,” making it clear that Rico Nasty is not a woman to be fucked with. In “Back and Forth” with Amine, Rico steps into Amine’s “Limbo” style and does it well. The record’s second single “Own It” is a more classic club banger that unfortunately didn’t get to see the dark of night in any clubs this year. Even if the mainstream never catches up to Rico Nasty, I’ll be following along with her self-labelled “sugar trap.”

Ariana Grande, Positions

I mean, duh. Ariana just doesn’t miss. She surprised everyone with this album’s release in Fall 2020, displaying the bliss of her relationship with later-confirmed fiance. She goes dirtier than usual in the sex-centered “34+35” and “nasty,” rounding the record out with the Craig David-reminiscent “positions.” Ariana allows herself to lust for someone and even love for them in these three, but defaults to her brimming self-confidence in “just like magic” and “west side.” The album is more R&B than pop at times, with the peak of this style visible in the groove of “my hair” and the Mariah Carey ballad-like nature of “pov.” Each album, Grande shifts just a little bit, keeping us attached: “Sweetener”’s cotton-candy pop, the savage pop-trap of “thank u, next,” and the R&B conclusion of the spectrum with Positions.

Miley Cyrus, Plastic Hearts

This year I anticipated no record more than I did “Plastic Hearts.” Its leading single, “Midnight Sky,” described by Pitchfork as a “cocaine-dusted disco track,” channels Stevie Nicks’ eighties rock-pop era in the absolute best way. Apparently this opinion was even picked up by Stevie herself, as the two collaborated on a mash-up of “Midnight Sky” and Stevie’s “Edge of Seventeen” (the excitement from which nearly led to my passing away, by the way.) Cyrus’ voice is in the perfect place on this record, with “Plastic Hearts” emphasizing her rasp and making me want to spin around a room. She dips into the pop realm in “Prisoner” with Dua Lipa, a song that Lipa clearly influences with an unforgettably sexy music video. Every song is different on this record: “Gimme What I Want” channels the grinding rock sound of Nine Inch Nails, “Bad Karma” allows Joan Jett’s punchy style to run the show, and she slips on the shoes of Billy Idol in their collaboration, Night Crawling. Somehow, Miley manages to wear the shoes well, and 80s copycat record or not, I can’t stop listening. “Never Be Me” is where she shines most deeply, baring her soul, the complicated nature of her past few years’ journey, and her knowledge of who she is and always will be for the world to hear. I’m not sure if I’m blinded to the album’s flaws by my absolute and complete love for everything about Miley’s current persona, but I am a huge fan.

Glass Animals, Dreamland

The sound of this album is such a blissful respite! Glass Animals gives us the fun and funky techno-pop that they always do, but dive into personal lyricism in a way that they never have before. Many of the songs actually have a storyline (an intentionally rare feat for Dave Bayley, first broken with the incredible “Agnes” on their last album.) This record explores trauma and pain in “Domestic Bliss” and “It’s All So Incredibly Loud,” Bayley using the soft sides of his voice to express pained desperation. The boisterous energy of the past two records is not forgotten in Dreamland’s intimacy, however: “Hot Sugar,” “Tokyo Drifting,” and “Space Ghost Coast To Coast” do the trick. “Space Ghost Coast To Coast” is the most intriguing song on the record: at first listen, I had absolutely no idea what Dave was discussing and assumed it was just his typical neuroscience-inspired ear-candy. Upon a deeper dive, the song addresses the factors that encouraged Dave’s childhood friend to bring a gun to school. He disguises a discussion of the risk factors involved in school shootings within his flowery, figurative linguistic excellence. This duality of blissful melody and solemn subject matter is the magic of Glass Animals.

Empress Of, I’m Your Empress Of

This album is an emotional electro-pop masterpiece. This record meditates on the feelings felt in the wake of a relationship’s end. She begins the album with a quote from her mother about the reality and value of struggle, then launching into a synth-filled storm of missing someone. “Love Is A Drug” is the album’s next fun dance track, addressing the addictive quality of touch after you lose someone you love and embodying the urgency of the feeling. She takes a more somber tone with the influence of Jim-E Stack in “U Give It Up,” incorporating quotes from her mother about the difficulty of womanhood and reminiscing on love lost. In “Should’ve,” the post-relationship regret is palpable in her vocal tone and production, and in “Maybe This Time” she contemplates this pain. In “Give Me Another Chance,” her emotions swing the other way, with a bouncing dance beat and pleading vocals. The album concludes with the heartfelt and pain-filled “Hold Me Like Water” and the dissonant “Awful,” leaving the listener to meditate on the mood swings of a broken relationship.

Tame Impala, The Slow Rush

This album came out so early in 2020 that it already feels like a vintage piece of music. Perhaps that was the point. Although “The Slow Rush” had a hard time living up to Kevin Parker’s last epic masterpiece “Currents,” it was the fix many fans like myself needed after five years without an LP. “Borderline,” the single that allowed anticipation of the album to build, stands out as one of the most essentially Parker tracks of the record. He introduces a little Toro y Moi style funk in “Is It True,” and highlights his voice more than usual in “Lost In Yesterday.” “Posthumous Forgiveness” builds in the wonderfully dissonant fashion that fans learned to love through “Eventually.” The bass track on “Glimmer” is so good that I never even noticed it had nearly no lyrics. This record is not groundbreaking by any standards in the way that “Currents” was, but it is intentionally jubilant and energetic in a way that still feels good. Even if he doesn’t shatter any expectations in “The Slow Rush,” Tame Impala’s tracklist still makes the perfect sunset companion.

Joji, Nectar

Joji’s “Nectar” is just that: sweet R&B nectar, from the minute the first track plays. Joji’s work here is not in the individual tracks, but in the sonic experience he creates with the album as a whole. This is not an album to pick out singles from: it is a full cinematic mood adjustment. Maybe it’s the weed I smoked when I first listened, but the record feels like a wonderful progression of gentle yet rhythmic R&B songs. The transition from the soft and contemplative “MODUS” to the more upbeat trap-infused “Tick Tock” to the full R&B ballad “Daylight” featuring Diplo raises the listener’s energy gradually to a crescendo. “Run” is a gorgeous and sad confessional of disappointment, and “Sanctuary” follows as a soft and uplifting analgesic to that pain. “Pretty Boy” and “777” mark the more upbeat section of the record, filled with Joji’s accounts of living far too fast. The tracks of this record all bleed into each other seamlessly, mixing pain and confidence in an emotional rollercoaster.

Amine, Limbo

My journey to being an Amine fan started with “Caroline,” ended with “Heebiejeebies,” and started back up again when he found depth in “ONEPOINTFIVE.” His 2020 release is exactly why I came around to his music yet again. The record is soulful and fun, with the flute and cocky lyrics in “Woodlawn” and the funky beat and Young Thug feature of “Compensating.” The two songs I absolutely can’t stop listening to however, are “Can’t Decide” and “Becky.” “Can’t Decide” highlights Amine’s singing voice and dips away from rap and trap into the more traditional R&B realm. “Becky” is an intimate account of the difficulties involved with interracial dating, both in public and in the family realm. The two sides of the album, one emphasizing rhythm and immaculate production, and the other lyricism and emotion, are found in these two songs. The punchy “Pressure In My Palms” (featuring slowthai and Vince Staples) and “Riri” round out the record’s light side. In “Limbo,” Amine finds the perfect balance.

Fleet Foxes, Shore

This album is a wave of calm. Robin Pecknold’s soothing voice is exactly what we needed more of this year. Pitchfork described his mission as “turning anxiety into euphoria,” and that is how this record feels. Each song is dynamic and filled with what makes Fleet Foxes so special. There is a choral quality to the vocals of “Shore,” as always, adding to the calm aura of the record. “A Long Way Past The Past” takes the listener on a what feels like a long walk filled with serious conversation. “Going-to-the-Sun Road,” a song that takes its name from the famous cliffside road through Glacier National Park, oozes sunshine in its Tame Impala-Bon Iver crossover sound. “Cradling Mother, Cradling Woman,” truly feels like being cradled in sound. Fleet Foxes has a knack for beginning songs by hitting the listener with a wall of sound, and that is so perfectly represented in this track. This is a seriously beautiful album.

Cam, The Otherside

Cam’s voice is irresistible. She showed her talent for sharing painful ballads in her breakthrough single “Burning House,” and in “The Otherside” she digs deeper. She writes this record in a period of change, and captures this change and dissonance in the nostalgia of “Redwood Tree.” She teamed up with Avicii for the title track before he passed away, and it shows. His signature building melodies and guitar breaks are clear, and they go perfectly with the range of Cam’s voice. She truly shows her range in this track and this record in general, from the highs in “The Otherside” and the lows of “Changes.” “Changes” is another standout of the album, co-written by Harry Styles. This record is a gorgeous account of outgrowing love and outgrowing people after the deep bliss that you felt with them in the past. “Till There’s Nothing Left” and “Classic” are the big love songs of the record, one that melts you and one that makes you want to dance in a field of flowers. The sisterly confessional “Diane” pulls Cam back to her country roots. She ends the record with what made her famous: a beautiful, sad ballad backed only by piano. Her unique vocals are on full display as the record concludes, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Omar Apollo, Apolonio

Omar Apollo had his breakthrough in this record. His work spans languages and genres in a big way in “Apolonio.” “Kamikaze” and “Staybacik” stick to his typical R&B style, better produced than it ever has been. “Dos Uno Nueve (219)” goes a completely different direction, a Mexican corrido track featuring Yellow Room Music, honoring the Latinx musical styles that he expressed admiration for. Apollo also explores his sexuality in this album, fluidly discussing his bisexuality in “Kamikaze” and “I’m Amazing” in an exploratory manner. The whole album is generally quite exploratory, a quality that makes me even more excited for the work that is to come from Apollo.

Also worth mentioning:

Diplo, Diplo Presents Thomas Wesley: Snake Oil

Thundercat, It Is What It Is

Sylvan Esso, Free Love

Lauv, ~how i’m feeling~

Niall Horan, Heartbreak Weather

J Balvin, Colores

Kelsea Ballerini, kelsea

Dominic Fike, What Could Possibly Go Wrong

#music #2020

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