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doll-elvis · 1 year ago

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PRISCILLA (2023)

~ my thoughts as an elvis fan

(credit to @urpinkstargirl for the photo)

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD:

so I saw it last night and I’ve been stewing on it ever since as I wanted to be 100% sure in myself before saying this publicly

**brace yourselves**

After just one viewing… I feel confident in saying that I preferred this film over “Elvis” 2022 🤧. It was just so immersive and so deeply intimate that I walked away from the theater feeling like I had just lived a life with Elvis, and experienced all the ugly and wonderful things that came with it

I am seeing it again tonight and possibly tomorrow just to recapture that feeling (which made me cry… three times…)

And although I’m not the biggest fan of Sofia Coppola, there is simply no denying that she has perfected showing “girlhood” in film, and making the most unique experiences, like being Marie Antoinette and being Priscilla Presley, somehow universal to everybody. I haven’t felt being “14” since I was 14, which was a whole 5 years ago, but WHEW… I most definitely felt 14 again when watching Priscilla navigate life in Germany

Also- we all saw how Austin Butler was completely cheated out of an Oscar and so I’m begging that we do not do that again. Give the Oscar to Cailee Spaeny (who played Priscilla) right now 😤 There are no words besides “immaculate” to describe her performance. Her future is so bright as an actress, I just cannot wait to follow her career + she just seems like the sweetest person ever??

And I know it might seem insane to say that I preferred “Priscilla” over “Elvis” and some of y’all might crucify me for that take but my preference solely comes down to the fact that I appreciate Priscilla’s perspective much more so than the Colonel’s, who to me, has always been the least interesting aspect of Elvis’ story

My biggest gripe with having the Colonel narrative/tell Elvis’ life in the 2022 film is the fact that it made the film feel rather impersonal to Elvis as I don’t think the script or the storytelling ever fully allowed for Austin Butler to explore what he was like beyond the stage

And personally speaking, I have a much deeper love for Elvis the person as opposed to Elvis the performer, and I think that “Priscilla” showed the human side of him far more than “Elvis” ever did (like y’all we actually get to hear and see him reading his philosophy books in this!!!)

But before I get into what was actually depicted in film, and all my praises, I thought I would briefly state what I thought could have been done better. Don’t get me wrong, this movie was beyond amazing, however, it was definitely not without its’ faults:

1. If you have seen a lot of reviewers talk negatively about the pacing in this film- just know that they are unfortunately, completely right in that assessment. The whole timeline of Germany felt literally five minutes long, and the 70s also, felt maybe 10 minutes long which just made both the beginning and end feel rather rushed. Also there were at least 5 scenes that just faded to black before going onto the next one, and some very abrupt cuts in scenes which felt a bit awkward

2. Because this is a biopic, and because it’s based on a real life, there is no climax like you would be accustomed to normally in a film and so I think that the average viewer, like someone who may not really care about Priscilla or Elvis, will probably walk away from the film feeling unsatisfied- possibly bored. I saw it with my mom and my sister, and my mom was asleep in like 45 minutes 😭. The movie definitely got repetitive at some points but I acknowledge the fact that life is repetitive, especially for Priscilla in the 60s while Elvis was off making movies

3. While Priscilla (played by Cailee Spaeny) aged realistically and seamlessly, Elvis (played by Jacob Elordi) was essentially the same person (physically) for 95% percent of the film. For some reason, his hair was already dyed black in the Germany scenes, although we know it was brown at that time, and so there was no real transformation for him until Lisa Marie is born. The height of the actor was definitely jarring at first but eventually I got used to it…however…I damn near busted out laughing when they showed him in the Comeback special outfit 💀 His performance was nothing but incredible (ESPECIALLY THE VOICE) and so I learned to get over the physical disparities rather quickly

4. The ending of this film, particularly the song, was overwhelmingly sad and impactful but I was really disappointed that we didn’t get to see Priscilla’s and Elvis’ relationship after the divorce. This film ends with Priscilla leaving Graceland, starting her “new life”, which didn’t make much sense to me considering this movie was adapted from her book, which very much explores that part of her life, especially with Elvis

I would have really love to seen moments like this from Priscilla’s perspective ⬇️

excerpt from “Priscilla, Elvis and me” (avoid this book)

5. NO CIRCLE G RANCH!!! It is borderline criminal to make a film about Priscilla and Elvis and to not include their time spent at Circle G ranch ** which Priscilla has always said were their happiest times together **. I assume that this was likely an issue because of the budget and the fact that they only had 30 days to film but god… I would have really appreciated some of the domestic bliss that Priscilla and Elvis shared while living in the trailer on the ranch. There were many happy moments/sequences (y’all are going to die when you see the rollerblading/go cart scenes) in this movie, but I think their gradual separation/withdrawal from one another (post marriage) would have hit harder if we saw how happy they were together during their ranch phase

6. For those who have read “Elvis and Me”, we all know about the famed LSD scene that takes place and unfortunately, Coppola heavily missed the mark on it. We don’t see Lamar Fike making out with a tree, we don’t see Jerry Schilling in a closet- instead we see Priscilla and Elvis just kind of rolling around, laughing amongst themselves while the room around them turns different colors

There were definitely many key moments/stories like that missing from the film, and I honestly wish that the movie was an hour longer so that we could have seen the book more fully fleshed out

Lastly, here’s just a general synopsis of the scenes in Germany… I was going to do the whole movie but I don’t have the stamina to type it all out 😭. If y’all want to know something specific please feel free to comment below and I will let you know <3!!

After the beginning credits are shown, the film starts with Currie Grant (who was renamed as Terry West) approaching Priscilla in a diner, inviting her to a party at Elvis’ house. After talking with her parents and assuring them that Priscilla will be looked after by him and his wife, it cuts to her in the back of a car, on her way to meet Elvis. The scene is exactly like how it is in the book, Elvis asks her how old she is, he remarks that she is “just a baby” and so on- Elvis then plays “a Whole lotta shakin” at the piano and that is one of three musical performances we see from him

Priscilla is then re-invited by Currie aka Terry via Elvis to comeback to the house again. Elvis invites Priscilla up to his room, she looks around and sees letters from Anita Wood, and a poster of Bridgette Bardot just like in the book. After Elvis talks about Gladys and how he is still reeling over her death, and how lonely he has felt since then, they share their first kiss to the song “Crimson and Clovers”

There are some scenes of Priscilla at school and some scenes of her sort of convincing her parents to let her continue to see Elvis. And they do agree, but just like in the book, they want to meet him first. Elvis is questioned by Priscilla’s father on why he wants to be with her to which Elvis replies that she is very mature for her age and that he likes talking to her since she is from home aka the United States. He then assures Priscilla’s father that she will be taken care of. After that we see them going to the movies where Elvis expresses how much he wants to be a serious actor, and then they share another kiss on the car ride home. It then cuts to Christmas time where we see Elvis giving Priscilla a watch and then BOOM- Elvis and her are on the way to the airport where they say their final goodbyes as he leaves for the United States

The film really does follow closely to the book (at least from 59’ when they meet to 69’- again the 70s were really rushed) and so I really recommended to read that prior to watching the movie

As for the more sensitive scenes-

There is no explicit sex, no graphic nudity, and no scene where Elvis forces himself upon Priscilla. He does say “this is how a real man makes love to his woman” but all he does is kiss her before she pushes him off. There is a rather long “polaroid-taking” sequence where it shows all the outfits that Elvis would Priscilla dress up in but other than that, we only see Elvis and Priscilla make out

And it did show when Elvis accidentally hit Priscilla in the eye during the pillow fight scene in her book, along with the scene of him throwing a chair in her general direction after she expressed she didn’t like a demo of one his songs, and the scene where he grabs all her clothes from the closet and tells her that she should go visit her parents. I don’t think that the scenes made Elvis look abusive: Coppola was surprisingly nuanced in showing that he had reasons for his sometimes bad temperament i.e the pills he took along with the fact that he was frustrated with his film career

It also shows Elvis’ infidelities but really only through movie magazines that Priscilla sees. So it’s never explicitly shown, I would say it’s more hinted at than anything

And there are two scenes of Priscilla with Mike Stone but again, nothing that is explicitly shown, it’s just hinted at

Finally, to finish this up, this is what I wrote on my Instagram account which I very much stand by ⬇️

Just please give this movie a chance y’all, it was so beautiful and so sensitively done… I cannot wait to watch it again <3

#I was not prepared for this movie #cailee and jacob completely floored me #I’m sorry I ever doubted y’all #give everyone an award #wow #priscilla presley #priscilla movie #priscilla 2023 #elvis and priscilla #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis fans #elvis fandom #sofia Coppola #cailee spaeny #jacob elordi #Spotify

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leavesfallensparse · 9 months ago

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Cigarettes & Wine | M. Healy | 1

'I want a photo of you in my bed, to carry with me when I go out west.'

In which Sadie and Matty have a very brief, very awkward, and very anxious encounter, Sadie gets very flustered but quickly finds herself fitting in with the group of rowdy boys and too many feelings are felt for her teenage brain.

warnings: drug use, implied alcoholism, implied parental neglect, my sweet angel sadie being a sweet angel.

word count: 8.5k

a/n: soo .. hiiii! i am juniper and im begging you guys bear with me i have Never posted on here before. BUUUUTT i am vvvv nervous and excited to be posting this but it's been in the works for tooooo long. begging and screaming to be let out of the word doc its been confined to. so here we are i guess. pls enjoy sadie and matty they are my Children. if the title wasn't hint enough.. this is only part one.

Sadie has had the most stressful morning of her entire life. Her tie is untied around her neck and the only thing she cares to grab hold of is her camera. Her entire life is on that thing, and although she may be merely 14, her camera is her child. She hears her mother huffing at the bottom of the stairs and straightens up to catch a look of herself in the mirror, a mess, as she suspected. Her shirt is buttoned up wrong, her skirt is half tucked into her tights, she has on one Mary Jane and her backpack’s contents are strewn messily across her bedroom floor. With some swear words muttered along the way she is in the car within five minutes and her mum is chewing her out for being late to her first day of Year 10, which she couldn’t really care less for.

“I’ll see you tonight, mum! Love you!” Sadie slams the car door before she can hear her mums reply and heads into the school she’s grown to know quite well. She’s fallen into a friend group with some girls that she thinks will do for her high school endeavours, but Sadie already knows she’s destined for bigger than the small town of Wilmslow. Somebody else who thinks this way is Matty Healy, the boy who’s just gone into Year 11. Sadie has noticed him before, they both tend to frequent the music department, Sadie finds it visually appealing for her photo collection, whereas Matty finds it appealing to the ears, especially his own guitar strumming. Any time their paths cross Sadie bows her head and pretty much runs in the opposite direction, face as red as the wine her mum drinks when the sky gets dark.

As Sadie enters the front of the school she signs in late at the front and heads to her class, putting her camera in her backpack as she approaches her English class. She sighs and opens the door with stuttered apologies for being late, Sadie might be confident and come across as such but that doesn’t mean her 14 year old brain isn’t scared of high school teachers and their strictness. She stumbles to her seat and sits down, accidentally throwing her bag at her feet once she gets out the book the class are in the middle of silently reading. Even though she doesn’t know why the class is reading on the first day she’s thankful for it because it lets her mind wander, her dreams of being a famous photographer is what her mind favours over ‘A Tale Of Two Cities’, Sadie finds Dickens to be boring. She prefers the Brontë sisters.

When lunchtime finally rolls around Sadie is where she can normally be found, the music department. Her camera is lazily slung around her neck, her backpack having been left with her friends in the library. She favours avoiding the gossip for finding inspiration in the usual practice rooms, the ones she hasn’t found inspiration in for a while now. She spent every day before the Summer holidays begging whoever might be looking down on her for something to take a photo of. Somebody else had been wandering the same corridors as Sadie. Everyone in her year talks about Matty Healy, “the boy in the year above with a natural affinity for the guitar he’s always carrying around the school carried a naturally mysterious air.” Sadie can’t think of a single girl in her year who wasn’t utterly obsessed with every move of Matty Healy. Including herself, even if she’s very hesitant to admit it, an admirer from afar per se. She likes to think of him more in the sense of ‘his appearance is inspiring to her camera’. Sadie was looking down at her feet, frowning at the scuffed shoes she wore for the entirety of Year 9 when she felt a larger figure bump into her. As she looks up and sees Matty with a guitar case in his hand she can’t help the pink tint that rises on her cheeks.

“Oh! Erm, sorry!” Sadie somehow manages to force the words out of her mouth. She seems to have the same shyness about her when talking to Matty that she does when looking her English teacher in the eye. An interesting discovery. She loses herself in overthinking the tone she just took with Matty when she hears him reply to her, something she wasn’t expecting in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t paying attention, my bad.” He meets her eyes and genuinely seems like he couldn’t care less about her mistake, he seems to take more notice of her camera, his head tilts and his eyes squint in the direction of it hanging limply on her neck. She seems to grow more confident in herself when she realises he’s looking at her camera, she knows she’s good at photography, that’s something she could talk about endlessly. Matty lifts a finger and points to said camera. “You any good?”

Her eyes widen slightly at the question, and she clears her throat at the same time her head begins incessantly nodding, she is acting crazy. She then begins to overthink her nodding. Why is she overthinking so much? Maybe she’s just having an off-day. She decides that she nodded like that because she knows she’s a great photographer, why would she not be overconfident about it? Seems normal enough.

“Cool. Can I see any?” This is when Sadie’s heart rate picks up. She doesn’t know why; she doesn’t want to know why. She also does not want to know why he is asking her this. Matty’s question has sent her brain into full blown panic mode, maybe she does want to know why he’d like to see her photos. What could possibly intrigue him about her? The squint tie around her neck? Her incredibly dirty Mary Janes? In her 14-year-old brain she decides he fancies her. She’d come to find out in many, many years that she was, in fact, right.

“If you want? I’m bringing my hard drive tomorrow for my art class, they’re letting me use my photos this year, meet me at the library?” She says this with a coy smile on her face, in her head she is feeling a lot less coy because of the way Matty is smirking at her. What she doesn’t know is that he is looking down at her with a smirk because her face is so red that he thinks there’s something wrong, maybe it was something he’d said? After a beat of silence, he blinks down at her with a nod, and they bid their goodbyes. Once Sadie is sure Matty has turned the corner she lets out a silent squeal before quickly bolting to the school’s library and sitting down at the table her friends are at, she might not view them in any light, but they do love gossip. She takes a moment to catch her breath before turning to her friend sat beside her, “Matty Healy wants to see my photos. I have no idea why.”

Suffice to say Sadie didn’t sleep a wink that night. She sneaked through to her dad’s office to edit photos on the family computer at midnight when she was sure everyone was sleeping and when she was sure the photos were on her hard drive she went back to bed and tried to sleep. Unsuccessfully. She then had to drag herself to school the next morning, early, to meet Matty before classes. She had no energy to even be nervous, the eyebags on her face spoke for themselves. She all but flopped down on the seat next to the boy who held in his laugh at the sight of her. “Don’t laugh! I had to edit some of these photos before you saw them, and my bloody dad wouldn’t get off the computer last night, so I had to do it after he was sleeping! Anyways, wanna see?” When Matty nods with a smile she rifles through her backpack for her hard drive.

After silently looking through her photos for, like, three whole minutes, Matty turns to Sadie with a single nod. “So, I’m in a band. I think they’d love these. How about you come to our next practice and take some photos of us? See if they like what you do?” Sadie is now a mere puddle in her computer chair. She doesn’t speak in fear of her mouth betraying her, what would she even say? She nods for a while; she doesn’t know how long she nods for, but she knows it’s been a while.

“Yup, sounds good. Yeah, cool. Cool. Where do you guys practice?” Sadie doesn’t know what the fuck is coming out of her mouth. She is word vomiting all over Matty’s shoes. She wants to apologise but she isn’t sure she remembers the English language. Why is she so nervous? Oh, probably just because the guy that every single one of her peers fawns over is currently asking her to make him and his bandmates her next subject of inspiration. Her next muse. What even is her life.

“At my house. I’ll write the address down for you, hang on.” Sadie’s mouth has gone dry. Now she’s truly forgotten the English language. This can’t be real, and this certainly can’t be happening to Sadie. Matty Healy is writing down his home address for her to have. Not to even mention his literal famous mum and dad. She reaches her hand under the computer desk and pinches her thigh over her wool tights, it doesn’t hurt but she’s now sure this is actually happening. Sadie takes the paper from Matty and tries to process the date and time he’s reciting at her. They’re interrupted by the morning bell and when Matty holds the library door open for her she waves goodbye, bows her head and speedwalks away from him.

Sadie really tries to focus in her classes that day but it doesn’t work in the slightest, all she can think about is Matty Healy and she curses him for it. She tries to read some romance novel when she gets home but she starts picturing the characters as her and Matty and has to put it down. He has unknowingly taken over her brain, and she resents him for it. Can’t a girl even read in peace?! She took pride in being the only girl in her year who didn’t have a crush on Matty, now she can’t even hold that above his head.

By the time Friday rolls around Sadie is already over school, she never tended to like school, but she already knows that Year 10 is going to be dreadful. The one saving grace might come in the form of a boy in the year above. She leaves school and runs home to get changed before she heads to Matty’s address. She has cherished the crumpled piece of paper that held his address since she got it on Tuesday morning, she taped it to her mirror and that is where it will stay. It isn’t like she hasn’t come home every night from school and studied it, she knows exactly where she’s going.

Her shaky hand knocks on the door of said address about an hour later, she biked over from her house and actually enjoyed the ride, the early September sun was shining on her face and lighting up the bumpy country road she took to get here. Her thoughts are interrupted by a lively woman, quite aggressively, swinging the front door open. Sadie smiles up at her with squint eyes because of the sun attacking them, making the blue of her irises look probably insane. “Um, hi? I’m Sadie, Matty invited me to watch his band practice and take some photos of them.” Sadie lazily points to the camera around her neck with an awkward smile. She is coming across very poorly. But alas the woman opens the door wider.

“Oh! He never mentioned, he doesn’t tend to tell me these things though, typical teenager! I’m Matty’s mum, just call me Denise though, sweetheart. They should be in the garage.” Denise walks Sadie to the garage door where she can hear the loud laughter of teenage boys and obnoxious drumbeats. She smirks slightly and thanks Denise, accepting her offer of a can of coke. Once she takes it she enters the garage, and the laughter dies down. “Sadie’s here, boys, she’s very lovely so I don’t want to hear of any teasing or making fun.”

Sadie looks down at her feet as Denise defends her, even though the boys haven’t yet uttered a word. She hears the garage door close behind her and Matty gestures her over to him. He very casually, like it’s nothing, throws an arm over her shoulder and begins introducing her to the three other boys in his garage. She already knows George from a couple of her classes due to them being in the same year, but she lets Matty speak at her anyways. “So, Sades, this is Adam, he plays guitar and he's in the year above me, basically he’s old. That’s Ross, he does the bass, but I think he just pretends to know what he’s doing. And that’s George, obviously he plays the drums, but he just makes a fucking racket.” Sadie flushes at how casually he gestures, how casually his arm is around her, how casually he swears, and how casually he calls her ‘Sades’. That’s a new one.

“Um, hi, I’m Sadie it’s nice to meet you guys. Matty was singing your guys’ praise on Tuesday morning. Been looking forward to this since.” Sadie’s forearm has suddenly become very itchy, and she busies herself in looking around the garage in an attempt to avoid eye contact with any of the aforementioned boys. She notices a few posters on the exposed walls and a couple of guitar cases strewn across the floor, the last thing she notices is a battered leather couch against the wall, facing all of the boys and their many instruments and poor cable management. Sadie leaves Matty’s side and takes a seat on it, placing her coke on the floor and taking the lens cap off her camera.

The practice is well under way and Sadie’s mind has been racing with thoughts of how she’d shoot the band at an actual show. She finally gains the courage to stand up and has failed to notice Matty’s eyes on her the entire time he’s been singing. None of the other boys seem to notice either, Matty doesn’t even realise what he’s doing. When they finish up the last song they wanted to practice (for probably the tenth time), they start chatting about things they should do differently, and Sadie busies herself by looking at her photos on the couch. She gets caught up in them and doesn’t feel the sofa sink next to her, she looks up and sees George looking over her shoulder. “Any good photos of me?”

Sadie can’t help the pink on her face as she nods and turns her camera to him, showing him the few photos she got of him. She found it difficult to get good angles of George considering the size of the garage they were practising in, him being shoved into the back corner. As George was flicking through photos Sadie couldn’t help but study his face, his brows were slightly furrowed as he fiddled with the buttons on her camera, not knowing how to work it. He smirked at a few photos and his eyes scanned over the rest, when he looked up Sadie was suddenly very interested in the opening of her can of coke. She has no idea why she can’t look at any of the boys without her heart rate picking up and her face going bright pink. Maybe because she thinks they’re actually quite cool and she has no idea why she would possibly be sitting in Matty’s garage with them all. But she is.

The next time she has a run in with the band is a week and a half later when they all spot her in the lunch hall and wildly gesture her over. She had spotted them first and tried to look around to avoid them. She really wishes she knew why her subconscious was forcing her away from the boys. (She’s terrified she’ll embarrass herself. That’s why). She gets herself together and heads over to the table they’re sat at, awkwardly placing her bag at her feet. She murmurs something that could be perceived as a “hi” but honestly it could have been anything. “Have you edited the photos yet? We are highly anticipating them.” Sadie nods her head excitedly, glad that the topic is on her photos, something she actually is passionate about.

“Yeah! Yeah, they’re on a hard drive that you guys can have, I forgot to bring it with me today though. I’ll bring it tomorrow?” Matty nods and falls into conversation with the boys, who also include Sadie, sitting there helpless, unsure if she should get up and go to her friends. She dares to glance in their direction and when she sees them blowing fake kisses because of the curly haired boy she’s sat with she rolls her eyes and turns back around. She reminds herself that they are her surface level friends, they have nothing in common whatsoever, they’re too caught up in gossip. Sadie is too caught up in her camera. They don’t gel.

Sadie manages to fall into a conversation with Ross about English and their mutual enjoyment for the subject, she finds it incredibly random but she’s glad to have something in common with one of the boys. She relished in the conversation not being surface level drama that brought a yawn out of her throat, she also relishes in her slight ranting about her passions actually being listened to. Sadie likes Ross and his listening skills. When the bell rings she finds herself bewildered at the fact she doesn’t want to get up from the table, she’d quite like to stay and timidly laugh at the boys’ jokes and general noisiness. But, alas, she must head to the aforementioned English class, she makes a joke to Ross about how she’d rather go anywhere else. They share a hatred for Sadie’s teacher, him having had her for the previous school year. She finds herself falling into step with George, they’re already five minutes late.

They wave a goodbye to the rest of the boys who all disperse into different classes and walks silently with George. They pass by a few people that make them share glances to each other, grimaces present on their faces. Anytime this happens they both laugh and shove into one another until they reach the fated English hallway and George reaches into his bag and pulls out two sheets of handwritten papers. Sadie’s face basically turns into a question mark. “What? It’s the homework?” Upon seeing Sadie’s heart basically fall to her toes George can’t help but let out a baffled laugh. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done it.”

“Shit, George.”

The colder the weather gets the more Sadie begins to feel like an integral member of the group. She’s the one to tell the boys to shut up when they’re talking too loudly. She’s the one to shove Matty anytime he makes another member of the group the butt of his jokes. She’s also the one to tell him when his singing sounds shit. Sadie has been quite the talk of the town recently because of this, her old friends are spreading all kinds of rumours due to her gradually dropping them in favour of the boys. Although anytime Ross catches wind of these in the school corridors he’s quick to shut it down, whether it be defending her or physically getting involved… at least he's there!

The band are meeting up for their last practice before Christmas Day and Sadie is beside herself with excitement, she hasn’t seen the boys since the school broke off for the holidays on the 17th. She wakes up that morning already excited but when she opens her curtains and sees snow she swears under her breath, she couldn’t possibly drag her bikes weak tyres through the thick snowfall. So, she slides her panda slippers onto her feet and heads downstairs, finding her mum in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a cigarette in hand. “Morning, mum! Would you be able to give me a lift to Matty’s later? I was gonna bike over, but it must’ve snowed pretty hard last night.” When she hears the sigh escape her mum’s mouth and the slight thud of her palm on the counter she knows she’s not getting a lift.

Denise was expecting Sadie, she’d grown to expect the young girl’s presence around the house at any given time. But what Denise wasn’t expecting was to open up the door to Sadie, bike in hand, tears staining her bright red cheeks, and no hat on her head. This just wouldn’t do. “Oh! Sadie, sweetheart, what happened? Come in, out of the cold now, just dump the bike, that’s fine. Why did you bike here?” Sadie tries to speak but her brain seems to think that letting a sob rack her body is the smarter way to go about this.

“Mum wouldn’t give me a lift, said she had more important things to be seeing to. Had no choice.” Denise immediately puts the kettle on and wraps the girl up in a blanket, rubbing her shoulders after forcing her to take a seat at the kitchen island. Sadie can hear the boys upstairs and is glad of Denise calming her down and talking to her before she has to face them. After Denise gives her a telling off for not, at least, putting on a scarf, she turns to Sadie with an eyebrow raised. She just sighs. “She does this all the time. Feel like a nuisance at that house. Always in the way.”

Upon hearing this Denise circles the kitchen island and crowds her into a hug which she can’t help but accept. After a beat of silence occasionally broken up by Sadie’s sniffles, the two part, Denise keeping her at arm’s length. “You shouldn’t feel like a nuisance. Listen, any time you come here I’m delighted, probably because you balance the testosterone levels a bit, but not just that, you’re the kindest young lady I’ve ever gotten to meet, and it’s always a pleasure to have you at the house, you keep my boys in check. Now, if you ever feel like this again, phone my number from your house phone, and I’ll come pick you up, can’t have you biking in the snow anymore.”

Sadie nods her head at Denise’s words, letting out a slightly weepy laugh anytime she makes a dig at the boys. She feels strangely warm inside, despite the subzero temperatures she was just faced with, and she doesn’t know why. She’s never felt safer than when Denise took her hand on the kitchen island. Matty’s house is now her safe space she’s decided. Speak of the devil, Sadie hears a clatter from the stairs behind her and when she turns she sees Matty’s eyes light up. “Sades! You made it! I thought you weren’t gonna come because of this snow, glad to see you though, George is chatting shit about your English teacher again. Something about holiday homework, help me take some juice up?”

Sadie takes the blanket with her and with a smile in Denise’s direction she waddles over to the fridge. She makes sure to finish her tea before grabbing a can of coke. Another thing she likes about the Healy house is the constantly stocked fridge, anytime she needs a drink there seems to be one on hand. Almost akin to Mary Poppins handbag. She takes one of the cans Matty is juggling with a giggle and bids goodbye to Denise before heading up the stairs. Matty entertains this journey by telling her that his dad had taken Louis, his younger brother, out to build a snowman a half hour ago and Sadie laughs at the image of his rosy cheeks and tiny hands grasping at snowflakes. She dotes on Louis, always having wanted a younger sibling, she treats him like her own brother.

When the door to Matty’s bedroom opens she smiles at the sight, three boys strewn across the room in one big, lazy mess. They all seem to perk up at the sight of Sadie, George especially. “Thank fuck you’re here, need help with this homework, my mum told me to have it finished before Christmas. And Ross, miserable bastard, is refusing to help me. Have you done it?” Sadie sets down Adam’s can of coke on the desk, cracking her own open before sitting criss-cross on the floor beside George. She nods at him over the can, and he can’t help but cheer and push it towards her, struggling on the carpet. “You’re so much better than me at English. Read what I have.” She sets down her can and skims over what George has written.

“Oh dear, I’ll help you after practice.” At this the boys all glance at each other and the room falls silent. Did she say something? I mean, they’re here for practice, right? Right. Sadie has just missed it, her treacherous journey to the Healy house took longer than usual, and she left late. “Have you already practiced?” When faced with four nodding boys, Sadie sighs and nods too. “That’s okay, we can just hang out, then.” Matty looks at her with a sympathetic grimace. He overheard more of her conversation with his mum than he originally let on.

Matty decides that changing the subject entirely is the best thing he can do in this situation, he doesn’t want to force her to talk about why she was crying to his mum. “We liked the most recent photos you took, really cool. Think you left some of your ones for art on the hard drive, there was a random shot of some leaf in the middle of Ross’ closeups.” Sadie shakes her head, feeling her eyes roll involuntarily. “I mean it was a good leaf photo, I just don’t think it’s our vibe.” Her head is thrown back in a giggle as she takes another sip of her coke.

“You should consider yourself lucky, getting to see my leaf photos. They are very close to my heart.” All Matty can do at this is scoff, he is now the one rolling his eyes. Sadie’s attention is diverted by a sheet of paper being waved in her face. She turns to George with a slight glare, and he backs into himself a bit. “Fine. What do you not understand? It’s just English.”

“I just don’t get it. English doesn’t make sense, I think you’ve forgotten that I am a well-travelled man, Sadie. I’ve been all over the place.” Sadie fixes the boy with a sigh, a straight-faced sigh. She lets his sentence linger in the air as she readjusts on the bedroom floor. She lays on her front as she reads what George has written. It’s not bad, but it’s also not great. And so, she tells him such.

“I mean, it’s not bad, but it’s not great. You could maybe, I don’t know, sprinkle in an adjective here or there, don’t think that would hurt.” Is all she manages to get out before a pillow is lobbed, quite forcefully, at her head. In retaliation she throws the paper back at George. “Well, you can do it yourself then, can’t you?”

“No, no, no! Sadie I didn’t mean it! My hand slipped!”

As the day turned to night the boys gradually left until it was just Matty and Sadie left sitting on his floor, sharing chips that Denise had cooked for them. Sadie put one in her mouth and glanced out the window, noticing it was snowing again, the sigh that came out of her mouth wasn’t meant to sound quite as pathetic as it did. Matty stopped strumming on his guitar and turned to her with furrowed brows, at the sudden silence she met his eyes. “I can’t bike home in this weather.”

“Why did you even bike here in the first place? And why were you crying?” Sadie shakes her head and breaths out a laugh. How does she even answer this? She could be honest, lay her cards on the table, and tell him all about her mum. Or she could be partially honest and tell him that her mum just doesn’t make time for her. Or she could blatantly lie, she’s on her period or something like that. As she weighs up her options she lets out a barely audible hum and Matty cocks his head at her.

“It’s just my mum. She never makes time for me. Refused to give me a lift and I didn’t want to cancel so I biked here. That’s all, I’m okay now, spending time with you guys makes me okay.” Matty’s head falls to rest on Sadie’s shoulder silently. He doesn’t know what to say to her, so he just starts strumming the guitar again. A smile rests on Sadie’s slightly pink cheeks as she hums along to the song Matty is playing, she doesn’t know it to name, but she definitely knows it. “I didn’t think I’d actually make friends in high school.” Matty doesn’t say anything for a minute, processing Sadie’s words.

“Of course you were gonna make friends. I think you’re too good to just be our friend, frankly I’m shocked you put up with our bullshit.” Another beat of silence falls upon the pair. “Just come here if your mum’s being a pain, we’ll cheer you right up.” Sadie smiles at this and feels tears brimming her eyes, and she doesn’t know why. At the sudden sound of the door opening Matty lifts her head and Sadie rubs at her eyes.

“Right, Sadie, I’ve just tried phoning your house phone three times to no answer, so the spare room is set up for you, let me know when you pair decide to sleep.” Sadie doesn’t hear much of what Denise said after hearing that her house was phoned three times, and nobody answered. What if something had happened to her? She sighs and smiles up at Denise from the floor, thanking her before picking at the loose pieces of carpet on the floor. When the door shuts, the tears flow. Matty has never been more panicked in his entire life, he thinks. How the fuck do you comfort your crying best friend?!

“Hey, hey. Come here.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder and all she can do is sigh. She knows if she speaks it’ll end in even more tears, her voice will refuse to work. She gives in and leans into Matty’s touch, the weather outside is a stark contrast to how she feels under his arm. After a few minutes of her silently crying, she dares a glance up at him and sees him staring at the wall across from him with slightly widened eyes, the sight makes her giggle, breaking him from his trance. He looks down at her and joins in the laughter, not knowing why they’re laughing but glad she’s not crying as hard anymore. Yet his eyes widen again when she stops laughing and opens her mouth.

“I want to know why they don’t care about me. I haven’t done anything.” Matty sighs at this, a sick part of his brain wishes he could relate just so he’d know what to say. He looks down at Sadie who is now lying on his floor, upside down from where he sits. He lays down next to her, top and tail, both teenagers looking up at the ceiling, feeling things too big for them to even comprehend, things they shouldn’t have to feel. “Sorry, I feel like the mood is ruined.”

“What mood? You’ve been off all day, making me feel sad. I wish I could make it better.”

“I wish you could, too.”

Sadie has no desire to celebrate her 15th birthday that following Summer. But she’s been faced with no choice. In George’s words they “had to because you only turn 15 once.” George had turned 15 earlier that year and didn’t seem to share that sentiment on his birthday, all they did was go to Matty’s house after school and sit in his living room for six hours. But he was insistent that the group had to go out for dinner, he’d gotten Denise on his side which ultimately led to Sadie agreeing. Her mother wasn’t best pleased, but she’d grown to not care, and her mothers grown to know she can’t fight her anymore.

She got dressed in rapid speed, desperate to get out of the house and reunite with her best friends. She hadn’t even gotten as much as a card from her parents and that says more to her than any words could have, she isn’t even sure they know her birthday is today. Pulling on her jeans, probably quicker than the speed of light, she grabs her jacket and runs down the stairs, she shouts a bye to anyone who cares and hops on her bike to Matty’s house. They’re all meeting there for some big surprise before they go out to dinner.

The August sun is beaming down on her face, she pauses and squints up at the sky and notices how blue it is, she smiles and looks back down at her bike. She decides that draping her jacket over the handlebars is a better idea, her backpack is half on her back because she was in such a rush. When she bikes the familiar back road she takes note of how the trees have turned from pathetic twigs to bright green scenery, she shuts her eyes for a second and let the Summer air infiltrate her lungs. She is grateful to be alive.

When she biked round the corner at the end of Matty’s road she could see all the boys engaged in a water fight, her urge to turn right back around grows stronger the closer she gets, George’s pathetic screams and Matty’s maniacal laughter grow louder, and she can’t help but laugh to herself. She hears Denise scolding Ross for going too rough and shakes her head as she throws her bike down on the driveway, climbing off and running away from all the boys who immediately turn on her with their water attacks. “Hey!! Stop, it’s my birthday!”

George laughs louder than Sadie had ever heard someone laugh before, probably because the boys weren’t targeting him anymore. She squeals and tries to run into the house, but Adam blocks the door, and she feels more water shooting at the back of her head. She hits his chest and tells him to move at least fifty times, but he doesn’t budge so she runs. She runs round the house to the back garden where she knows Matty keeps the water guns, just as she suspected there’s a pile of them, half-full, on the grass. Sure, they’re the shit ones, but they’ll do the job.

She hears a gasp behind her. “She’s found the pile, run.” She laughs and whips herself around, gun in each hand, to the pathetic squeals of four boys who run back around to the front of the house. There’s a knock on the kitchen window which distracts Sadie for a second, she sees Denise waving wildly at her, she waves back and sees her saying “Happy Birthday!” She laughs and runs round the house to get the boys back.

A half hour later Denise calls out the front door for them to come in. They all race into the house, Matty being shoved by George and Sadie laughing so hard she stops in her tracks. She gets stopped in her tracks even further when she sees the pile of gifts under the TV. She gasps quietly and barely hears everyone wishing her a happy birthday in unison, the tears pricking her eyes are stinging the back of her throat. This is the most anyone’s done for her birthday. George puts an arm round her shoulder and shakes her slightly, then slightly shoves her to the presents. “Save the one with the pink wrapping paper for last.”

Sadie’s bottom lip wobbles and she lets out an exasperated laugh. “Guys, this is too much. I don’t even know what to say.” She moves towards the gifts as if they’re going to jump out and scare her. She sees the three cards on the top and picks them up, sitting down on the floor in front of the TV. The boys, Denise, Tim, and Louis are all scattered across the couches and the floor too, just watching. She opens the one from Denise, Tim, and Louis first and smiles through teary eyes at the kind words written on the page. She has the same reaction to the other two cards, one from all the boys, one from just Matty.

After a while Sadie’s face is wet with tears, she’d laughed at some of the funny gifts, and with her new necklace round her neck she looked at the last gift, the pink one, cautiously. “Is it alive? Am I gonna be scared?” Matty laughs and shakes his head. She lifts it into her lap and looks at the tag, it reads that it’s from the boys. Before she opens it Denise cuts in.

“They all saved up for this on their own. Came up with the idea and everything.” Sadie looks to the group of boys on the other couch who all look very smug, she rolls her eyes at their faces and turns back to the gift. She carefully unwraps it and can’t help the sob that comes out of her mouth. The new Sony camera is sitting in front of her. When she gets hold of herself she opens the box and gasps at the sight of it. “Guys, oh my god. I can’t take this, you’re kidding.”

“Well, none of us know how to use it.” Sadie tackles the four of them into her arms, jumping on top of them all on the couch, muttering a hundred thank yous under her breath. She doesn’t even know how the boys managed to afford it, maybe some of Matty’s odd jobs he was doing helped, or Ross’ job down at the shop. She didn’t know, but she knew she would never forget this. Sadie felt that same feeling again from earlier. She was grateful to be alive.

By the time Matty’s 18th rolls around, the rest of the group have a plan. They’ve all saved up enough money to buy tickets to Leeds festival, and they’ve all chipped in to get one for Matty’s birthday. Sadie wasn’t allowed to go before, but Denise gave in this year and let her tag along with the group. She makes all of the parental decisions for Sadie now, since she pretty much lives at the Healy’s house. Denise’s reasoning was that it would be after her 17th birthday, deeming her old enough to go. Matty, Ross, Adam and Jamie had gone last year but all they had talked about when they came back to Sadie and George was how excited they were to go next year, the full group.

Ross, George and Sadie were currently sat in Matty’s back garden, waiting for Matty and Adam to get home from work. Sadie and Ross were sharing a cigarette and talking about the lineup for Leeds. More like arguing. George was observing with a cigarette of his own, he’d only spared one to the duo because he’s stingy. “No, Sadie. Nine Inch Nails are more exciting than the fucking Smashing Pumpkins. Think of it, you’re in a muddy field what would you rather listen to.”

Sadie looks at him like he’d grown a second head. “The Smashing Pumpkins.” Ross just groans, George laughs loudly. “What?! I would!”

“You’re actually fucked in the head, Sadie. George, please back me up.” He passes the cig back to Sadie who takes it and looks at George with a raised eyebrow. He takes a sip of his coke and looks away from the pair, whistling at the sky. Sadie laughs and passes the cigarette back to Ross. He tells her to finish it, so she does.

“No, to be fair to both of you, I’d rather be at Paramore. If I had to choose.” Sadie and Ross both share a look and collapse into each other laughing.

“Okay, one, Paramore is on Sunday, we’re talking about Friday. And two, they weren’t even in the equation to begin with.” Ross nods at Sadie’s words and George just sticks his middle finger up at the pair, who laugh at him again. They hear the back door opening and turn to see Matty, they shut up about their prior argument quite quickly. The trio share a look and have to hide their laughs.

“Hello boys. And Sadie.” They nod up at Matty who cracks open his coke and pours it over the ice in his glass. He looks at the three that have gone silent and squints his eyes slightly before taking a sip of his coke and lighting a cig. Sadie looks at the other two who are giving her looks as if to say, “Say something.”

She turns back to Matty, who turns to her. “How was work?” George lets out a barely audible groan and she looks at him incredulously. Matty nods around his glass and then kind of shakes his head.

“It was okay, not busy, boring. I like it there, though.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome for getting you that job. I’ve been there for like a year now. Remember when I walked in one day and George was just standing in the kitchen? That was stupid.” George laughs at her and she turns to him. “No, I was so confused.”

“I was working, where did you want me to stand?”

“It would’ve been nice to know you were working at the fucking place?” George shakes his head.

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Some surprise that is, George!” He, yet again, sticks his middle finger up at her. This time she does it back. Matty scoffs and leans his head back with a sigh, he stretches his arms and one of them comes to rest on the back of the bench behind Sadie.

She points up at the sky, the sun is setting behind the clouds which cast a pink hue down on the group of four. They stay outside until the sun is probably in the middle of the sky in Australia. Adam arrives not long after Matty and Sadie gives him a subtle nod and thumbs up, trying to tell him that they got the Leeds tickets today. He looks confused at first, but he gets it after a minute. When Matty goes inside the four speak in whispers about how they have to tell Matty, because George is unable to keep it a secret. The back door swings open again and the four sit up straight. “Right, you guys are hiding something from me.” Sadie can’t help herself.

“We’re going to Leeds.”

Leeds was a fucking nightmare. Everyone fought. Everyone made up. Then they fought again. They all got so high they probably couldn’t see. Ross and Sadie ended up seeing Nine Inch Nails together after losing everyone else, and despite being in the clouds, Sadie remembered to act like she didn’t want to be there. Until she actually started enjoying herself. And George got to see Paramore. Almost. He passed out and Sadie shouted at him in the medical tent after he just came to because she was missing out, she was forced to take him to the medical tent.

Sadie was sick on some girl’s shoes at the Kings of Leon set. It was her, George and Adam having the time of their lives until some older girl started flirting with George, obviously he was loving it, but Sadie was already having a bad high and when she saw the way that girl was looking at George she just couldn’t help it! It all kicked off when George and the girl teamed up and tried to fight her. George was forced to take her to medical and as she was thrown over his shoulder he was yelling about how she’d ruined the weekend.

Safe to say the drive home was silent. Matty had the biggest hangover behind the wheel and Ross was cradling Sadie in the backseat as if she were his child, George was practically hanging out the window on the other side of Sadie. The one memory she has in the car is when they were all sat on the grass, ages away from any music, when Matty turned to the boys and said, “Reckon we’ll be on one of these stages soon?” The question was ringing through Sadie’s mind.

A few days later the group were all sat in Matty’s garden (like usual) with drinks in hand, reminiscing on the festival after they’d all taken some much needed time away from each other. Anytime Matty’s eyes caught hers she felt her heart stop. She isn’t sure he remembers but the day after they got back Sadie jolted awake with a vision of her kissing Matty. She doesn’t know when or if it actually happened, but it seemed too real to be something she conjured up in the middle of the night. Ever since, she’ll wake up in a cold sweat with visions of Matty’s lips on hers. She remembers it being a life-changing kiss, though, so there’s that at least.

Sadie makes a point to be the last to leave Matty’s house, she’ll probably end up sleeping here tonight, like usual. It’s a rare sight to see Sadie sleeping in her own bed these days, it probably occurs once a month at most. When Adam shuts the door behind him, Sadie feels her heart fall out of her ass, the silence is less than comfortable. If she can feel the shift in energy surely Matty can. He sits down beside her and turns to her. “Do you remember?”

Sadie feels like she’s died in her seat. Her eyes have practically fallen out onto the dining table. She spins her glass on the table awkwardly, thinking of what to say. What would he say if she lied? Would he pretend it never happened? She decides not to lie, because when his face is as close to hers as it is right now, she thinks she’d like to kiss him again. “Yeah… Do you?”

“Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t, hmm?” Sadie feels like her 14 year old self, meeting him for the first time. Her face is flushed pink, she’s picking at the tracksuit bottoms on her thighs, and she’s avoiding eye contact. She wishes the ground would eat her alive, because one thing about Sadie is she doesn’t know how to flirt. “Hurt me seeing you kiss that other guy the next day.” As he says this his hand has come up to play with the loose strand of hair that had fallen out of the front of her ponytail. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. Her voice is no louder than a mutter.

“Sorry, didn’t know what I was doing, don’t even think I knew where I was.” Matty laughs softly at this and looks down at his lap, but his eyes catch Sadie’s nervously picking at the loose thread on the seam of her tracksuit. He feels his heart skip a beat as he grabs it. This makes her face him, looking into his eyes. The silence around them is suffocating and Sadie feels like she might pass out on the floor. When he makes the move to shuffle slightly closer, she smirks at his face. She doesn’t know where she grew the confidence but when she mutters, “Just do it.” He breaks the distance.

The butterflies in her stomach feel cliché, the way the kiss picks up in pace feels even more so. His lips on hers feels like coming home to your own bed after you’ve been abroad for a week. It feels like the smell of your own house after being away for a while. She knows that when her hand comes up to the back of his neck that it holds an ulterior motive, this is confirmed by his hand on her hip, guiding her closer. She wants to consume him in this moment. When they break away for a breather, Sadie doesn’t open her eyes, she doesn’t want to face this moment, but when she feels a squeeze on her hip she can’t help but open one eye. Matty laughs and leans his forehead to hers.

“Sleep in my room tonight.” That’s all that Sadie has ever wanted to hear.

The slight fling between Sadie and Matty didn’t really last for very long. The group all moved into a flat together and the flame between them just kind of flickered out. George noticed the change in Sadie’s demeanour ever since. He was the only other person who knew about Matty and Sadie, but because he was the best friend of both he had to be there for both. It was eating him alive. He was laying in Sadie’s bedroom, joint between his lips. They were sharing it.

“He fucks anything with legs. But I can’t move on. What’s with that?” Sadie plucked the joint from George’s mouth, and he rubs his eyes his face with a groan. He watches the smoke leaving Sadie’s lips intensely, staring at the way it clouds up in the air and dissipates into nothingness, this is how Sadie and Matty’s relationship felt. He sits up slightly on the bed with an indignant sigh.

“His way of coping, I suppose. He didn’t exactly get an explanation as to why you stopped sleeping in his room. Now he just needs someone sleeping there to fill that void for him.” It’s Sadie’s turn to sigh now. She knows George is right, but she doesn’t like the answer and she doesn’t want to hear that he’s suffering. He’s being a bitch and he should just come and speak to her. Silence falls over the duo and George stubs out the joint gently before opening his arms for Sadie.

She isn’t feeling very grateful to be alive.

#my babies !!!!!!#they're free in the world.#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #writing #matty healy fic

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malum-forev · 2 years ago

Text

Reputation: Endgame

Summary: Bucky is sooo Reputation coded so, here's Endgame by Taylor Swift (Bucky's Version)

Previous: ...Ready For It?

The quinjet was quiet, nothing more than the constant sound of the engine. Neither you nor Bucky hadn’t spoken a word since you left the country you were hiding in but, it didn’t feel awkward.

You’d heard he was a man of a few words and you were used to being in silence. Since fleeing the Red Room, you’d been traveling alone. Solo travel takes a whole new meaning when you’re hiding from the world and from your past.

“You’re a hard person to find.” Bucky broke the silence.

“I know.” Your simple response made Bucky scoff. He was mid eyeroll when you turned to him. “Is there a problem?”

He shook his head. “Not a problem, just a- let’s call it a full circle moment.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your jaw slacked.

“Most of the times when I get mission reports, the target is very vague. Hair color, ethnicity, age range, a picture if I’m lucky but with you, I got a full manuscript. Off the record obviously because there is no actual record of you anywhere.” A whisper of a smug smile hovered over Bucky’s lips. “I don’t usually pay attention to what is written of people because it’s usually bullshit but with you, they’ve got you down to a T.”

Bucky has the audacity to shrug his shoulders! Like it was the most casual thing ever. The man you met barely an hour ago, who by the way has the worst reputation ever, thinks he can read you like a book.

“Is that right?” Your molars grinded together. “What did they warn you about?”

“Egocentric, narcissistic, selfish,”

Bucky was ready to keep spilling more kind words about you but you interrupted. “Glad to know Natasha thinks highly of me.”

“Just to name a few.” Bucky’s eyes were set forward, the right side of his lips curved upwards. “Big reputation.”

Now you scoffed. “You and me, buddy. We got big reputations.”

His playful expression hardened, like you had poked a side of him that immediately lifted the iron gates.

“Now’s not the time to get serious. You heard all of my worst qualities and you still decided to come on this rescue mission. You have to be a special kind of messed up to do that.” You laughed. “You heard about me so, you know I’ve got some big enemies but I know you’re on the same boat as myself.”

Your light tone was chipping away at the ice. He’d frozen, no pun intended, that part of himself a long time ago. When he was ‘normal’ (a term Dr. Raynor had told him time and time again he shouldn’t use) he loved to banter. It was his preferred method of flirtation and just conversation in general. But now, he truly felt like a fish out of water. The times had completely changed and he felt like sometimes he had to process information on a first-generation computer when the people around him were living in a world he’d only seen on TV.

“If only the people who are out to get us knew we were in the same plane,” Bucky said. “We’d be a big conversation.”

The plane fell silent again, the comfortable void caressed your shoulders. Like a whisper of something you’d never felt before suddenly became familiar.

“It’s not true, you know.” Bucky cleared his throat. “What they say about me. Most of what they say I did isn’t true. My reputation, it doesn’t precede me.”

“Well, I heard you once took down a whole Hydra base with only one gun and a couple of knives.” You nudged on. “And that was after the Winter Soldier.”

“I actually did that with only knives.” He turned to look at you with a smile.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look more beautiful smiling. He tugged his lower lips in between his pearly whites and the sides of his eyes crinkled. He threw his head back and a bubbling laughter invaded his body. It was a little bit hoarse, like he was out of practice.

How long had it been since he’d laughed? You wondered.

“That’s not true.” He said once he came back, shaking his head. “The media loves to twist the narrative. They needed a bad boy on the team and I just happened to be the closest thing they could find.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing because never in your whole life did you think you would hear The Winter Soldier refer to himself as a ‘bad boy’.

“That’s what they like.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Your eyes roamed his body. From his short brunet hair to his beautiful blue eyes that shone like the night sky you saw in the windshield. Down to his short scruffy beard that made you want to run your hands against it. Feel the rough texture, touch him. To his muscular arms, you could see the definition through his thin shirt, the sleeves had been bunched up near his elbow revealing his forearms. Veiny and thick making you want to-

You snapped your head forward, forcing yourself to concentrate on the sky in front of you. You cannot think about him like this. This is just a mission. Nothing more. That means no touching an no thinking because those two things only lead to missing him, hurting him, or worse, becoming another ex-love.

You’re not trying to play, you’re trying to get to Natasha and work.

Your cold shift made Bucky rethink your entire conversation. Had he said something to upset you? Did he go over the line? Were his thoughts true or are they his past issues coming back? He’s got chips on both his shoulders and it shows. There he goes again with the negative self-talk.

Sometimes Bucky wished he could shut his brain off, find the master switch and go to bed. Some days it was easier to manage than others and he’d found a way to ignore it, it was easier this way. But the days where it was harder to ease, those were true battles. His flaws, paranoia and insecurities lurked in the back of his mind like monsters in the closet.

He’s made mistakes and made some very bad choices, that’s hard to deny but sometimes he wishes he could just forget. But with a reputation as big as his, it’s hard to get a clean slate.

The quinjet started its descent into the Avengers compound, the white building in your sights. As you got closer the plane felt bumpier, the wind was not in your favor and the landing was getting complicated. You snaked your hand on the center console at the same time as Bucky, effectively placing your hands on top of his. You felt a sudden jolt of energy that eased your nerves as your skin touched his but it was taken away far too soon.

Your throat felt dry and you tried to push any sign of nervousness deep into that rarely visited vault in your brain. You tried to forget the feeling but you couldn’t.

You went through a dark cloud and the rest of the landing was smooth. Your body ached from the long flight and the only thing you wanted was to get off. It had nothing to do with you wanting to get as far away from Bucky as you could, nothing to do with the strange reaction your body had to him.

Bucky lead you through the compound, the tall walls and windows made you feel more isolated than ever. Sure, you’d been alone for a long time but here it felt like the loneliness seeped into your bones.

“You’re safe here.” Bucky said, just above a whisper, leading you down a long corridor into the kitchen. “You don’t need to feel scared.”

You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out.

Bucky opened the refrigerator and pulled something out, taking it to the microwave. Bucky rested both of his hands on the edge of the kitchen island.

“I don’t feel scared.” You finally got out, straightening your back.

Bucky’s blue eyes softened. “I’m just saying it’s okay if you do. I know I felt that way when I got here. When you’re on the run, you’ve got nothing to lose. You’re used to the feeling of independence but here, you feel watched. Scrutinized.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Did he have the ability to look into your soul? It was the only possible answer. He was calling your bluff on all your usual tricks like it was nothing.

You bit your bottom lip, debating whether you should open yourself to him, you were sure it had turned deep red now.

“I usually am always the first to know everything. I always know what happens next and I plan for everything. Even when missions are over and I’ve buried hatchets, I keep maps of where I put them just in case.” You said with a laugh to try and mask the truth you spoke. “But this, Nat sending you to find me, I never expected this. I just- don’t know what happens next.”

“I guess your reputation precedes you.” Bucky said with a smile, taking the food out of the microwave. Your nostrils flooded with the delicious scent of your favorite meal. He pushed the container towards you, slapping on a post it note from Natasha. Welcome home. It said. “They told me you’re crazy.”

A true smile ripped through you.

“I swear I don’t love the drama.” You promised. “It loves me.”

The two of you ate directly from the container, too exhausted to take plates out. Conversation died down and the silence came back. Only a few hums here and there and some stolen glances. His eyes were like liquor, tempting you and his body like gold, wanting to bring you in. You focused back on your food, wanting to erase the handprint he left on your soul from the second you saw him first, only a few hours ago.

Author's Note: Hi hiiii I hope you guys like this second part!! If you do, you know the drill, please comment reblog and like! As always my asks are always open <3

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour

*Any gifs posted are not my own and I give the artist full credit.

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literary-illuminati · 8 months ago

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2024 Book Review #24 – When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

I tossed this on my TBR entirely sight-unseen at the start of the year, entirely on the basis that I was trying to expand my horizons a bit and it showed up on my public library’s ‘staff recs’ page with zero context whatsoever (also just an absolutely lovely title). This was, as it transpires, not a particularly good way to choose a book I’ll particularly enjoy – which is entirely on me, to be clear. It’s a well-executed and often charming story, and if it was a novella I would probably thoroughly enjoyed it. At 400 pages though, I’m just so incredibly and entirely not the target audience.

The story is a historical fantasy set during the tail end of the 19th century, principally about the angel and demon who call a minuscule shtetl in the Pale of Settlement (so small it doesn’t even have a name) home. Neither is a particularly impressive example of the type, and they have largely spent the previous centuries arguing over scripture with each other. After hearing that one of the girls of the schetl who had left for America might be in danger, they take it upon themselves to travel first to Hamburg and then to New York to rescue her. Along the way they make a friend, discover who they really are, and become trade union activists.

So this is shelved by both my library and Goodreads as YA, but it’s feels very much written for the young side of young adult – just generally very much read like a children’s story. A good one! But still – the narrative voice and the portrayal of the world felt like something more suited to 6th -7th graders than 16-17-year olds, I suppose? Though I might be projecting off my own childhood tastes here. There’s even a ten-page glossary of difficult or unusual vocabulary at the back. So all to say that really getting into a critique here based on my own preferences would just be a waste of time for everyone involved.

That said, this is actually one of the first YA books I’ve read that feels like it meets the whole stereotype of YA being written with Providing Good Representation as a key guiding principle throughout the process. Not in any didactic or lecturing way, but the three main characters are a nonbinary angel with a recurring beat of feeling awkward and uncomfortable whenever its dress/presentation/forged papers cause it to be treated as a man, a demon with obviously inhuman feet that make walking in shoes very painful and are a recurring inconvenience, and a teenage lesbian whose whole arc centres around figuring out why she felt so hurt and betrayed when her childhood BFF fell in love with a guy instead of emigrating to America with her and spending their lives together (also all but like 2 characters of any consequence in the entire book are Jewish, as just follows naturally from the whole premise). It all feels written with an eye towards taking prospective readers by the hand and assuring them that their feelings are normal and not something to agonize over. It’s all well-done and fairly graceful – and, like, such things are a large part of what children’s books are for – but was just amusing to finally see an example of the stereotype.

I actually did quite like the narrative voice and general style, though. It had very sort of storybook or folkloric sensibility to it, seemed exceptionally well written for reading out loud to someone before bed. Which fit very well with the very casual don’t-worry-about-it inclusion of the supernatural and its place in the world.

The book was honestly most interesting to me as a window into this whole rich cultural mythology of Ashkenazi emigrants leaving behind the Pale of Settlement and seeking new lives in New York/the USA. A mythology I am aware of but have only the most surface-level actual familiarity with (to whit ‘There are no cats in America’ and not much else). It’s always, I guess fun?, to read someone referencing and playing around with what are clearly stock characters and tropes but which are entirely new to you. The whole book at least felt very well-researched and absolutely drenched in little touches to ground in the specific place, time, and cultural milieu.

So yeah. Competent, well-executed book I really probably shouldn’t have bothered with.

#book review #ya #sff #when the angels left the old country #sacha lamb

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misterier · 2 years ago

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kacey procrastinating??? no he'd never...

take some short fruity cowboy game hcs for my obsession and the soul<3

Arthur Morgan with a gn/male(could be seen as fem ig?? but it's intended for masc) s/o 😻

tw: eating problems bc we all know Arthur probably doesn't take care of himself

He's literally stunning stfu😭

- doesn't care about his s/os gender, just that they treat him well

- probably touch starved but won't admit it💀

- also doesn't like pda, he'll hold hands or put his hand around their waist if something happens but he keeps it pretty private

- easy asf to fluster, a couple of well done compliments to him and he's hiding his face with his hat and trying to deny them and compliment them back

- draws his s/o all the time and sometimes feels bad because he doesn't think he did their beauty justice, but if he lets them see it and they hang it up in their tent all proud his mind would ease slightly

- likes holding hands allot in private, he likes touch he just doesn't accept it well so I think he'd keep touches small but meaningful

- he can flirt well unintentionally but if he tries he ends up really shy😭

- real protective but he won't stop his s/o from goin' out with him but he will be extra cations if he knows it's especially risky and will constantly ask of they're sure they want to go

- when he's drunk he'll get really clingy and emotional for his s/o, holding onto them more than he normally would

- he likes having his s/o around and just doing nothing, like just having them in the same room is all he needs, not big extravagant dates

- probably not very jealous, sometimes he gets kinda nervous though but he snaps out of it easy

- he trusts his s/o and he expects the same from them, probably gets confused or starts laughing if they're the jealous type

- I think he'd read to his s/o sometimes ☹️like they're both cuddled up in bed and he just pulls out a book and just quietly start reading to them

- like stated before he not one for pda, but he does love being touched while alone and comfortable, he adores cuddles and falls asleep that way. He prefers having them lay on his chest or cuddle up to his chest, but if his s/o can't sleep like that or he needs comfort he's a little spoon, he adores being held by his lover, he honestly thrives on touch and people

- he listens allot, not really very talkative, just listens to his s/o rant about whatever they want, occasionally writing notes about what they say in his journal while drawing them as they speak

- he's not a stalker, he just likes to watch his s/o from a distance sometimes, he loves seeing how they react around different people and how their eyes light up around the people they care for

- he really likes his s/os hand tbh, like he'll hold them constantly and just gently kiss their knuckles and rub the back or the palm, watching every movement with the most adoring eyes

- this man takes care of everything but himself, like his s/o has to force him to bathe sometimes, full-on pulling a Grimshaw sometimes 💀 also gotta watch his eating, he just goes off for days and forgets about food and even when he comes back he just ignores it, his s/o has to remind him or he'll forget until it's actually painful and he has to slowly eat something to regain strength

-he can go weeks without talking to his s/o and will bounce back as if nothing happened, if they get awkward and need time to adjust to him being back he'll be alright with it and slowly ease up their comfort again by quietly helping them with their horse care or bringing them coffee after they finish their chores, bringing them stew when they come back after a short job

-he loves them a lot tbh, but he only shows it in small ways, soft touches, kinder words, flicks to the forehead and arms, small gifts, remembering important dates(good and bad), will intentionally track animals if he knows something is coming up and his s/o likes a specific meat he'll make sure to hunt it and bring it back for pearson

#guys..im alive!!????#holy shit who would had guessed fr #anyway I suck at tagging my bad #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x gn reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr x reader #rdr x male reader #im so sorry I'll get to the star trek requests one day I swear #im just into the silly lil cowboys rn I'll came back to the fruity space kids

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marveloustimestwo · 2 years ago

Note

hi! can you write yandere headcanons for matt simmons or spencer reid? thank you!

Hello! Thanks for the request! I went for Spencer since I'm not really as familiar with Matt.

Warnings: Yandere themes, talk of kidnapping and manipulation

To start us out, Spencer would be manipulative, protective, and obsessive.

Reid's a genius. He loves learning new information and can store it all in that smart brain of his. When it comes to you, his want to learn is doubled. His obsession makes it so that he wants to know everything about you.

He's not tech-savvy like Garcia is, so most of his "research" is mainly just talking to you. Though, I don't doubt that Spencer would ask Garcia at some point to look into you a bit. Things he's not ready to ask himself, like if you have a significant other.

Otherwise, he can come off as pretty awkward. Spencer adores you, so he can get nervous just being around you. But with some encouragement from Morgan, he gets to be more comfortable around you and not so high-strung.

Despite his initial nervousness, Spencer wouldn't be afraid to use what he knows to his advantage.

He's in the BAU for a reason. It's his job to analyze even the most complicated minds. He's able to read you like an open book.

Mainly, he uses what he knows to get closer to you. He wants to have something you two can share an interest in, whether that's a hobby, a show, or something else. He'll learn what he needs to in order to talk to you about it.

Generally, I don't think Spencer's one to up and kidnap you, and that mainly has to do with his job.

If you're on the BAU, it would be a bit difficult to explain your absence in a way that doesn't make others suspicious. Even if we're talking about a universe where the others are like Spencer, there are still people close to you and higher-ups that would get suspicious.

If you're not with the BAU, Spencer's mainly worried about how often he leaves for cases. He can be gone for days or even weeks at a time, and he knows how damaging isolation can be for the human mind.

While he knows that can be a good punishment if you misbehave, he still prefers not to do it, so you're not likely to get kidnapped unless something extreme happens.

However, Spencer will also use what he knows about you as a way to keep you safe.

He's very good at manipulating you when he needs to. Most times, Spencer does feel guilty at the thought of doing so. He adores you. He wants to have a normal relationship, it's just that he can't stand the thought of losing you.

So if it means he has to steer you in the right direction sometimes, he'll do it. Whether that means convincing you that guy you're getting close to isn't as nice as you think he is, or having you sit out on a particularly dangerous case, Spencer just wants you to be safe.

#yandere #yandere criminal minds #yandere spencer reid

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spicybylerpolls · 11 months ago

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the discussion about how to write good sex is my catnip.

responding to previous anon, i had a few thoughts:

as moderator mentioned before, a lot of fanfic is by people who don't have actual experience with sex (gay or otherwise re byler), so it's probably drawn from porn even more than it is from their own personal fantasy. the age people first interact with porn, and therefore think that's an accurate portrayal of sex, is getting younger and younger what with internet access. but most porn is performance.

obviously people can enjoy performative aspects of sex, but esp re: mike and will or characters having sex for the first time, behaving performatively is less likely to be a genuine preference and more likely to be out of obligation - such as women thinking they need to be loud, men thinking they need to be silent/last a long time.

however, for mike and will, who likely have never seen audiovisual pornography, they just wouldnt know to use these words like 'baby' etc., and even if mike had sneaked one of ted's VHS tapes (eww), then he would likely be so awkward the first time that he would forget - ESPECIALLY around his lifelong best friend! so sex would instead be intuitive for them. which leads me to think that...

fanfic writers don't want to portray awkward sex because it's, apparently, 'unsexy'. now you can see what a paradox this is, but 'sexy' means something very specific to different people, often based on pop culture role models and ideals (phoebe cates anyone?). writers don't feel comfortable engaging with the reality of sex (rather than performative, idealistic sex) because it can be oddly... normal. mundane. sex can be average, bad, not at all the big deal its made out to be. this does one of two things:

ONE, it makes sex into something easy and accessible, and there are many institutions who don't want you to realise this, because it means they either lose money or lose control (not to get too political), and TWO, it does the opposite: it means that good sex becomes something intimidating and hard to reach, and puts people off when all they want is a bit of cheap release. because good sex, spiritually magnificent sex between people with a real connection and who are in love, is genuinely rare irl. and this is why seeing fictional characters find this connection is so cathartic.

so yeah, many fanfic writers who dont have irl experience are flexing a muscle, but they probably don't trust themselves or their audience enough to follow their instincts and write sex as they ACTUALLY would enjoy or want it to be - probably because they don't even know what they want.

it's a famous stereotype with males, that they are visually stimulated and don't have a highly vivid imagination (the visual stimulation part is rooted in truth, whereas typically females are more about emotional connection, originating with the need to nest and make a safe home). This is why pornography is so popular amongst men. I've even read published books that mention men who aren't visually stimulated during sex, and i'm like this female author clearly has done zero research lol.

Second anon was right about sex being somewhat separate from our real lives - see ideas like 'heat of passion' and 'haze' and 'fog' used in sexual contexts - which explains clumsiness, lovesickness, and blacking out during orgasm. (This, as well as the euphoria and relaxation that healthy sex can provide, solo or partnered, makes it genuine self-care, which is why it's such a shame that so many think it's harmful or embarrassing.) We DO disengage from reality somewhat during sex, as parts of the brain shut down, which means personality can change and become more animalistic if there is true abandonment. again many people never reach this level of trust irl, so perhaps extreme wildness in fanfic is a way of living vicariously.

but that said, fanfic is still storytelling, and readers want to see these specific characters in a sexual scenario, so i think the writer has a duty to be in service to those characters and find a way to make it believable, even if said characters do get a little wild. finding this balance is good writing - so maybe i'm just lamenting the lack of good craftsmanship in fanfic. honestly, the reason is probably because most great writers are out there creating their own original material, which is considered a much more worthwhile thing to do if you have a passion for storytelling (even though fanfic can teach you a lot about writing).

as for sex in movies, its a fascinating topic esp if you look into the history of intimacy co-ordination, which only recently became industry standard. in the past, many directors simply said 'you know what to do' to the actors. this had pros and cons: on the upside, it allowed for improvisation, realism, and the actors to take creative control, which performers from past generations/with classical theatre backgrounds thrived on; on the downside, it meant women especially could be taken advantage of or lose control in a scene, and that it was essentially the actors having simulated sex rather than the characters, which you can understand is problematic. (that said, there always will be an element of similarity between actor and character considering it's the same physical person. actors shouldn't be in the business if they aren't comfortable with this fact, and its up to them to control how different their performance is from their true self).

in film, camera angle, tone, context, EVERYTHING is essential for getting a sex scene right. i haven't seen many that hit the spot of respectful, hot af AND narratively appropriate, esp in gay sex scenes. Call me by your name was up there, but then that got a load of bad press for various other reasons.

I personally am praying they get byler right if they do it, though with the amount of things involved (including the edit/post production), it will be a miracle if everything comes together well.

lastly (thanks if youve made it this far!!), in my experience, written sex that i enjoy the most in published books does the following:

makes creative use of wording that is context- and era-appropriate (e.g. 'prick' instead of 'cock' or 'dick', or just implicit descriptions)

cuts away from the action in a way that doesn't feel frustrating but rather that you don't even need to read what they actually did

focuses on the emotional meaning of sex within the story

asks 'why' over and over - what does sex add to the character?

in short, smut itself will always be smut, and very hard to make narratively appropriate because it exists to make people horny lol. i assume this is where people start getting uncomfortable with byler in this conext, because the line between narratively explorative sex and simple porn can be a fine one, and a subjective one too. as a writer, i think it all comes with practise, and, as with sex irl, discovering what you actually like.

loving this discourse anon, more please!

very fascinating points! detailed and thorough! much to chew on.

#byler #spicy byler #no poll

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sugarmapl · 2 years ago

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bubble (cytham)

another repost from ao3 while the site is down!!

Summary:

Someone makes a pass at the General Mahamatra. Alhaitham doesn’t know why it bothers him more than it should.

{Fluff and humor, feelings realization - rated T}

—

One comment was enough to make Alhaitham annoyed. Two was enough to severely grate on his nerves. By the third comment, Alhaitham had enough.

The evening had started innocently enough. Alhaitham was meeting his friends(?), colleagues(?), acquaintances(?), at their usual after-work hangout spot. How exactly this had come to be routine for them, he had no idea. Though he’s sure Kaveh was behind it.

Regardless, he had gotten to the bar slightly earlier than the others for a change. Typically, his work as Acting Grand Sage kept him at the Akademiya until the late hours of the night, and he was usually the last of their little group to arrive. Cyno was often similar, his job as the General Mahamatra granting him little down time.

However, the General had actually taken a rare day off, so he arrived not long after Alhaitham. The two of them sat at their usual table while waiting for Kaveh and Tighnari to show up. The forest ranger had to come all the way from Avidya Forest, and who knows what Kaveh was up to at this hour. Not to mention the architect had a terrible sense of time, often disrupting Alhaitham in the middle of the night with his senseless construction projects.

And so, Alhaitham and Cyno sat in relative silence for a while. Rather than being awkward, it was actually quite comfortable. Personally, Alhaitham preferred the quiet to idle chit-chat, and Cyno appeared to be much of the same mind. At the moment, the General was shuffling through his Genius Invocation TCG deck, likely preparing to play a few rounds once the others arrived.

Alhaitham merely read a book that he had brought with him for these exact kinds of situations. It was a rather interesting in-depth analysis of puzzle-based pressure mechanisms and how they related to the ancient runes of the desert. It was penned by a respected Akademiya scholar by the name of Faruzan, and Alhaitham had to admit that her work was indeed intriguing.

However intriguing it might have been, though, it didn’t stop Alhaitham from glancing up to catch a glimpse of the General Mahamatra every few moments. Normally, he didn’t consider himself someone who was focused on outward appearances, but today seemed to be the exception.

Since the General Mahamatra refrained from working that day, he was dressed a bit more casually than how one might be used to seeing him. Cyno’s typical outfit was covered by his signature black cloak, and his headpiece was noticeably absent. In fact, the General had his long, white hair tied up into a ponytail, but his messy, short bangs still loosely framed his face. It was… pretty.

He likely wore that particular hairstyle because of the harsh heat that had battered Sumeru that day. Alhaitham wondered if he wore it that way often when he was home alone after work. Due to his hair being tied up, even more emphasis was placed upon the black choker creeping out from under Cyno’s cloak, wrapped deliciously tight around his smooth, tanned neck.

Alhaitham once again found his gaze lingering there for a bit too long. He quickly snapped out of it, clearing his throat and turning back to his book. Cyno continued to admire his cards, quite proud of the deck he had come up with, completely oblivious to the various stares he was getting. It seemed the General’s current appearance had peaked more than just Alhaitham’s interest. That’s when they heard the first remark.

“Hey sweetheart, can I buy you a drink?” a man called from his seat at the bartop.

Immediately, Alhaitham felt his mood shift for the worse. This guy really had the nerve to refer to the General Mahamatra with such a condescending term? Although, it was unlikely this man knew Cyno’s true identity, but still. Alhaitham wasn’t the most well-versed in social situations, but wasn’t calling out to someone in that way at least considered rude?

Cyno, on the other hand, didn’t appear to realize that he was the one being addressed at all initially. He was so focused on his cards that it took him a moment before he looked up in confusion. The guy at the bar was smiling at him, but the sleaziness of the offer was written all over his face. Once he understood what had happened, it only took Cyno a second to utter a quick “No thanks.” before turning back to his deck.

The man seemed put-off by the blunt rejection, frowning slightly but otherwise saying nothing. Alhaitham was even more displeased. He shouldn’t be bothered by such a trivial thing. Cyno himself wasn’t even worked up about it, so why did it annoy Alhaitham so much? Whatever. If Cyno was going to be polite and unbothered about it, he supposed he would let it go for now as well.

He turned back to his book, and the comfortable silence from before overtook their table. It was nice, being in their own little bubble like this. Too bad it was popped once again not much later. Apparently, the guy had yet to take the hint, and after stewing in the rejection for a bit, decided to try again.

“Come on, princess, don’t be such a killjoy. Join me for a drink, and I promise I can show you a good time.”

Cyno sighed with mild irritation, but otherwise remained calm. He put his cards down before turning to face the man fully.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough. I have no intention of joining you, so you may continue to enjoy the evening alone,” he responded before turning away again.

Even when dealing with such a rude dickhead, the General Mahamatra had remained calm and composed. Alhaitham, on the other hand, was internally seething, though he wasn’t sure why. The grip on his book was getting tighter and tighter, the pages wrinkling slightly under his fingers. The guy should’ve been getting under Cyno’s skin, not Alhaitham’s. Besides, it wasn’t like the General couldn’t handle himself. But every time the man opened his mouth, it made the scribe’s blood boil.

It seemed that the man at the bar was also unhappy, though for an entirely different reason. He had just been rejected not once, but twice, and pretty publicly at that. Not to mention, Cyno’s last response had included a little dig at the man, which likely bruised the guy’s ego. In retaliation, the man began turning to the patrons beside him and complaining loudly.

“Stuck up bitch. Thinks just ‘cause he’s got a pretty face, he’s hot shit. Pffft. I can find garbage like him on any street corner, probably with a tighter hole, too. Bet his is all worn out, damn slut.”

Alhaitham had to snap his book shut to keep from tearing out the pages. Or worse, hurling it at the guy’s head. Cyno was just sitting there like he hadn’t heard a thing, though there’s no way he missed it with the way the man was practically yelling. The scribe was never one to resort to violence, but even he was at his breaking point. Clearly, the civilized way wasn’t working.

“You’re not going to do anything?” Alhaitham couldn’t help but ask.

It was unlike him to get so emotional, and it was clearly seeping into his voice the way it came out strained. Thankfully, Cyno didn’t comment on it, instead thinking about his question seriously.

“What could I do? He’s probably drunk,” he answered.

“Inebriation is hardly an excuse for causing a commotion in public,” Alhaitham countered bitterly.

“True, but it would also be quite unbecoming of the General Mahamatra to engage in a petty bar fight,” Cyno reasoned.

“Petty? I would hardly call the insults being hurled your way a petty reason,” the other scoffed.

Cyno didn’t say anything for a moment, staring at Alhaitham with such intensity it made the scribe a little uneasy. His deep crimson eyes were probing his expression for something, and Alhaitham wondered what kind of face he must be making to warrant this level of attention.

“Does it bother you?” Cyno finally asked.

“Of course.”

Alhaitham had answered without thinking, the response slipping past his lips before he had time to catch it. Cyno latched onto it quickly, perking up slightly despite the horrible man still shouting disgusting things about him in the background.

“Why?”

The Acting Grand Sage wasn’t sure how to respond to that, because he didn’t even know the answer himself. Why did he care so much? Obviously, to an outsider, the pair could be considered friends, but Alhaitham had never referred to them as such. In fact, he often vehemently denied it during their usual meetups.

He had no need for friends. They only brought distractions, and clutter, and noise, if Kaveh was anything to go by. Did he feel that he and Cyno were now friends? Had they somehow developed their relationship to that point without Alhaitham realizing? No, the word “friends” didn’t sound quite right after all.

Though, it was true that he never really found himself becoming annoyed with Cyno the way he would with the others. He didn’t mind bumping into the General Mahamatra at the Akademiya, either. He also didn’t mind spending time with Cyno despite his preference for solitude, like the way they had been sitting in comfortable silence up until it was disrupted by outside forces. They were both quiet, and he enjoyed simply basking in the other’s presence while they each did their own thing. Plus, the General Mahamatra wasn't bad to look at…

Wait…

There’s no way. How had he not realized something so obvious sooner? Was Alhaitham so out of touch with his own feelings that he had allowed something as juvenile as a crush to sneak up on him? Oh no, this was bad. It had already evolved way past familiar territory. This was uncharted waters now. Since when had indifference towards Cyno grown into like, and then into caring? He didn’t even dare to think beyond that.

Subconsciously, he felt his face heat up just a tiny bit at the realization before he quickly schooled his expression. Cyno had been staring at him all the while, and Alhaitham noticed there was now a slight smirk where there was once neutrality. Still, Alhaitham being Alhaitham, he couldn’t make the conclusion of his musings obvious.

“I just think that it’s grating on the ears to listen to such idiocy. He should count himself lucky that the Akademiya does not consider stupidity a crime,” he finally answered.

“Right,” Cyno agreed, still smirking. “Though it is a shame, I am actually quite thirsty. Too bad no one less stupid has offered me a drink.”

Alhaitham cleared his throat slightly before standing up. “I was actually about to fetch myself something anyway. I suppose I could grab you one as well, if you’d like.”

“How generous. I’ll have to accept.”

Alhaitham went to grab them some drinks from the bar. However, as he ordered, he leaned in a little bit closer to whisper something to the barkeep, who nodded. Soon after, some matra arrived and quickly escorted the drunken man out of the bar for “disturbing the peace”. Cyno shot Alhaitham a knowing look from across the table, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a long sip out of the drink that was bought for him by the scribe.

The two fell back into their comfortable bubble. Only this time, they were engaged in a game of Genius Invocation TCG. Though hardly any words were exchanged, the General Mahamatra and the Acting Grand Sage were content. If they greatly enjoyed the time together before their other two companions arrived, no one had to know.

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #fanfic #cytham #haino #cyno #alhaitham #reposted from ao3

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syngirl · 2 months ago

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I think it says way too much about me that this is what got me to write in French again. Read the images clockwise from the left

He had worn many an awkward costume for a mission. Yet it wasn't the South American cabin boy, the Japanese general or even the medieval armor that bothered him the most. It was simply himself, but dressed in a skirt, blouse and cardigan, that stirred his mind. Tintin was normally a fairly analytical person, his inner voice tirelessly typing whenever he wasn’t, but now, when he needed it more than ever, it was silent. In this logical void that crossdressing had created, his thoughts, fond of connections, only managed to make one: the times he had already had the same feeling. With equal parts horror, fascination and catharsis, he thought about that dense and heavy warmth that lined his mind. How many times it had appeared without ever being recognized. His love of marbles when he was a kid, motivated not by the simulacrum of gambling that so captivated his classmates, but by a fascination with his mother’s jewelry that he could only respond to through this pastime suitable for a boy. His intense desire to write a report on feminist groups in Brussels, a desire which was blocked by an unusual social malaise. His meeting with his physician, who had diagnosed him with a testosterone deficiency as indicated by his lack of body hair and velvety skin.

“There are treatments for your condition you know, your appearance must be horribly embarrassing for a man your age.” the doctor reassured him.

Yet he never felt any need to “cure” his condition. He admires himself in the mirror, and has to admit that this appearance is at the very least pragmatic, just the clothes are enough to pass for the new secretary of the Syldavian embassy. He pets Snowy to calm down, he too seems captivated by his master's appearance. Tintin always had a suspicion that his dog knew more than him, too bad he couldn't express it.

The Captain waits for him at the entrance to the locker room, and cannot suppress a sailor's whistle at his appearance. Tintin blushes, obviously, but he takes the time to contemplate his friend. He knows that their relationship drew its strength from their differences, but this was the first time he considered the physical dimension. This strong, bearded and rough old sailor is a model of male morphology, unlike him. There is little time for anatomical analysis though, the political issue is the immediate priority. However, when boarding the streetcar, a striking observation forms in the reporter's mind: he prefers his immediate feminine appearance to a masculine ideal.

Blistering Barnacles! This illiterate postman has once again delivered the Cutts’s rubbish to us!

It is rather the Captain who is illiterate, for he did not notice that the few women's magazines he had in his hands were addressed not to Miss Margaret Cutts, but indeed Tintin. The Syldavian diplomatic crisis resolved, he returned with Snowy to his library in Moulinsart to bury himself in the pile of books, dissertations and articles that he accumulated on his desk, a necessary relaxation at the end of any adventure. Tintin is hardly picky with his reading choices, and so in the middle of the mountain of political, historical, geographical and linguistic literature essential to his journalism, there were Miss Cutts’s girls’ magazines which were found in the Moulinsart mailbox. The first evening of his reading period was dedicated to finally reading these rags so innocuous but so threatening. The very next day he subscribed to all the publishers he could find before making a trip to town to obtain more serious literature. The following week, he put on his best feminine voice to order clothes over the phone.

He does not yet have a real mental conception of this desire within him, he simply responds to a joy that is just as, if not more fundamental than a successful report or a resolved adventure. Fortunately for him, there is no question of taming capricious sources or risking an international incident. All he has to do is put on red striped sports shorts and a matching tank top, then admire himself in the mirror he had installed in his room. His fingers run through his flowing hair, which now reaches his shoulders. For as much as his quiff was a recognized aspect of his public image, the searing synthesis of resentments for his appearance that he had carried out had come to the same conclusion as his marbles. He didn't like the quiff on its own as much as it was a substitute for the hairstyle he never had. The symptom of a series of trying events that he had never treated out of contempt for the barber. Slightly trendy hair like he has now may be less memorable, but it's who he really is. He takes Snowy and holds him at eye level. He licks his cheeks happily, prompting an even wider smile from his owner.

The first time he left his room wearing his new wardrobe, he had done everything not to attract the attention of his friends. Now he exits through the main entrance, his posture tall, his expression confident. Haddock looks up from his newspaper in emphatic astonishment

What goes on Tintin? You only needed to disguise yourself as a lady once, but this is the third time you've gone out like this!

Tintin, hand on hip, only responds with a flirtatious smile. He walks into the hall, but the cavernous acoustics of the mansion allow him to hear the Captain speaking to Nestor.

I swear, since she, sorry, he put on that skirt, something has come over this kid. I adore him Nestor, he is my anchor and so much more,, but I no longer know how to approach him. I worry about him and his loneliness, but at the same time I have the impression of witnessing the birth of something big in him.

Change is the only constant, sir.

Tintin listens closer

I think he who spent his whole life sailing on a lake just discovered the ocean Nestor.

A new whirlwind of emotion seizes Tintin. Not just the Captain's unusually touching words, but his mistake. A truth found in Whiskey no doubt. She. Steps becoming lighter and more assertive, he or she heads towards Professor Calculus’s garden, their favorite place to meditate, contemplate and sunbathe. He is there, still pruning his roses when he notices the visitor

Good day madam! He exclaims.

They lie down on the grass, her well-groomed skin exposed to the sensations of spring. She. Madam. It was obvious, a truth that she had continued to deny. Not anymore. Under the shade of the rose bushes, she had found the solution to this riddle.

It was always helpful to have a renowned scientist in your social circle. It took him a few weeks to come to terms with his friend's real identity, not out of social rejection, simply because he sincerely believed that the real change was abandoning a career in journalism to go play tennis. Once he understood, the Professor called a Danish medical institute that he had learned of during a conference, and they accepted the new patient. Her papers, but above all, her loved ones call her Justine. The psychological reality clarified, her condition was no longer a defect, but an asset. She would be a perfect candidate, with minimal treatment required. A few prescriptions and a year later, she really needed to wear a bra, among many other changes..

It wasn’t just her physical appearance that was important, of course. She spent long hours in the living room chatting with Haddock, Snowy asleep on her lap. They discussed all the things they had never known how to tell each other, from Haddock's difficult childhood, to Justine's regret for her colonialist journalism, the Captain's worst years at sea, then the trauma she experienced from her consecutive adventures. Haddock admitted that he was homosexual, and that his affection for Justine extended to that dimension. He knew it wasn't appropriate, but was also too upset to admit it. Justine has no romantic interest, but thanked the Captain for always loving her for who she is.

Haddock wasn't the only one opened up by Justine's transformation. It was with great nervousness that she had sent a letter to Tchang going in depth about her thoughts and feelings. They managed to connect an international line, and the phone bill the following month nearly gave the Captain a heart attack. Despite their distance, Tchang had always been her greatest confidant, and the insights he provided for her were immense. He once spent an entire evening reading lines of Tao poetry and discussing them with her, finding solace in their reflections on inner peace beyond gender and the material world. There was also plenty of giggling and enjoying each others’ company. He hinted he might move to Europe for further education, and she could not be happier about it.

Most surprising of renewed relationships turned out to be the Castafiore. She proved to be much more comfortable with other women, and thus was incredibly generous and wise towards the unknowns of her new protégé. It took a few rough months, but thanks to the hairdressers, tailors, etiquette teachers and even just the social environments recommended by the singer, Justine had made up for the years she hadn't lived as herself.

She’s a little anxious, but she knows she’s ready. Trendy red skirt, flattering sweater, flirty necklace and armband, she is exactly who she wants to be, and the confidence she feels is palpable. She tightens her ponytail, it's now 11 o'clock sharp. She enters the office of Gérard Pelletier, her first lead in a story of questionable aerial activity in the Canadian Arctic. The stocky man looks at her. An amiable smile appears.

“Miss Justine, a pleasure to meet you!”

The anticipation of Justine's first adventure is mind-boggling.

“Smile for the camera!”

Justine, in a vain mood, wonders which is more dazzling, the flash, or her? She is right to think so. The bouffant golden hair, the sparkling eyes, the magnetic smile, her picturesque silhouette, all dressed in a low-cut mini dress and matching high heels in “blizzard” white, a journalist's portrait has rarely been so stylish. Haddock made fun of her friend a little, asking her if it was a photo session for an international scandal or a gossip column in Paris-Match. Justine is not naive, she knows just as well that such a getup is inappropriate for the arrest of a group of airborne polar mercenaries led by Dr. Müller, which is why the high fashion shoot would be a whole small black and white box at the end of the article. The real attraction was the original photo, which would go into Justine's private possession.

Of course, it's not all flattering photos, Justine's new life had its own challenges. It's difficult to be taken seriously by ne'er-do-wells when you're an attractive young woman, especially when your very existence is a known story and a bit of a scandal in its own right. Fortunately, all this is minimized by Justine's experience with these types of folks, and the Captain's promise to rough up those who wouldn’t keep their mouths shut. Despite the intense atmosphere of the studio, Justine is calm. The few old photos of her that exist are so formal, so uncomfortable. Justine is beautiful, and she will flaunt it, even if it means indulging her unscrupulous editor to have professional risqué photographs taken of her.

So many pleasantries at this Polynesian villa, for a panorama of the elite is present at this party, their tailored jackets and dresses replaced by ridiculous Hawaiian shorts and swimsuits as garish as they are diminutive. The relaxed atmosphere hides the shared truth: they are all criminals, celebrating their host Armando Biancana's ingenious plan, a revolution in the activities of European organized crime. French, Italians, Irish, English, Greeks, Spanish, Turks, Georgians, Bordurians, all will send their money to one of Biancana’s many Pacific islands, thus increasing their profits and Armando’s. So far from the authorities, he will be invulnerable. Sicily, the south, then all of Italy will bow to his financial power. With victory assured, prosecco is abundant on the idyllic beach.

The hole in the plan is the only guest present who doesn't seem ecstatic. Unlike all the other women present, she is not dressed in a pop art atrocity, but a sky blue one-piece swimsuit of distinguished elegance. With wine at her lips, lying parallel to the pool, her shapely thighs invite eager glances from almost everyone present, regardless of gender. Who is this looker? No one dares to ask her.

A subtle peripheral glance to check that there are no more admirers, she draws a pistol from her handbag and turns towards the crowd. Both her glare and her gun are aimed at Armando.

“Hands up!”

Being all professional criminals, a single armed woman shouldn't be so intimidating, but they are also rather drunk, and the leader, Armando is sobbing. It was she who had determined his place of residence, it was she who had stolen these important documents, it was she who had sent the letter suggesting this reception. The Interpol speedboats are rushing towards the beach, his empire has foundered. All because of that stupid girl with her nose in his business.

The criminals are now on their way to the cellular plane to Paris, and there is only Justine, the Thompsons and a few police officers still on the beach.

“Miss Justine, this arrest was exquisitely beautiful.”

“I would even say more, this arrest was of a bequisitely exutiful.”

A smile forms on her face, ah those Thompsons.

“We are no longer needed for the operation, our boat will leave soon.”

They both pull on their collars, both soaked with sweat.

“We should have learned our lesson after Khemed Thompson.”

“I would even say more, we should have learned our khesson after Lemed Thomson.”

Justine allowed a giggle.

“Do what you have to do, given I’m appropriately dressed, I have something left to do here.”

She waves them goodbye, and can't help but laugh again when they both trip over the same seaweed. It is at this same moment that Snowy comes out of his hiding place, happy to run on the sand. Justine kneels next to him.

“Do you want to enjoy the tropics, my dear Snowy?”

He barks to affirm, receiving pets from her.

"Me too"

With bare feet, a bathing suit glistening in the sun and her hair reaching the middle of her back, she walks towards the water, as turquoise as her outfit. It’s been 10 years since she last swam for fun. 10 years since she could allow herself to be happy. Besides the adventure and the attention, the real journey she experienced was to relearn how to live without limits. That she no longer needed to stop herself from these things that she had thought impossible. Her friends, her fashion, her appearance, her hobbies, her social life, all rediscovered with her true identity. Compared to these radical transformations, there is little practical importance to recreational swimming. Right now it is simply a conclusion. There would always be pitfalls in her life, but none as big as the lie that had imprisoned her. The days of doing so much without distinction are over. She dives beneath the waves and admires her weightless self, her body perfect in the sunlight. A wave of euphoria takes hold of her. This simple observation is worth more than walking on the moon.

Girl Tintin

#tintin #trans #fanfic #rule 63

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