#I cannot boil down how much i love her into simple words but she literally has everything

[andi-o-geyser]

I truly do love where Bells Hells' relationship with the gods is going, because in what has so far been a very atheistic party we're now experiencing some wildly different journeys with divinity. FCG is over here living his best life, like "I am all in on the Changebringer!" right as Laudna, Orym, and Ash return with all their trauma and complicated experience with how harmful the gods can be, so now Deanna is speedwalking in the opposite direction like "what do you mean :) you have issues with the Dawnfather :)) wait :) what do you mean militaristic churches :)) can i :))) have a fucking minute :)))" and then she hopped onto a quick zoom call with the sun itself, heard all she needed to hear, called him a bitch, and left. queen shit. anyways this is a Deanna stan post, my girl do what you've gotta do I'll support you the entire way

[maruzzewrites]

nightsky.

astarion reflects upon the nightsky; astarion & karlach | if you want to buy me a ko-fi!

The night moves on with the chatter and the laugher, the stars as only witnesses of a moment of joy among people who had so much to lose, and won.

Astarion stands a bit aside, away from the last remains of a crowd. People chatting, people enjoying an evening without thoughts, and he is reminded every second of what he could never have. He hoped that being away would alleviate the pain, but it lingers around him like an injury never healed.

He dreamed of this moment, these moments, for years. Centuries. And he still cannot shed the weight of what he experienced to enjoy one night like a normal person, without the baggage that comes with being Astarion. He barely even remembers how to be himself, what he would do in these situations if he isn’t the one used to lure one more victim into the belly of a beast.

And around him, everyone is simple. And joyful. Drunk on alcohol that is cheap, and full of food that sat in crates for days and days. Scorned by the druids that swear to protect nature, but their definition of nature is their own, and yet every single one of these people is happy. The rivers of good will run deep, and run far, but never quite as far as necessary for him to be free before mere days ago.

It makes his blood boil to see the serenity with which people go on about their business, about even terrible things they have to endure.

Betrayed, rejected, manipulated, everything under the sun. And yet he is the one who can’t stomach the most mundane of interactions without having to rely on the same old act, the survival instructions he built for his own good during the years.

He can only stay away, nursing his own bottle of wine.

Alone.

That is, until someone loud and warm like the sun he just learnt to enjoy again comes by. She laughs like all the others, maybe with more glee and bliss than anyone else, and she greets him into this night with a toothy smile, “Hey! Why are you here all by yourself?”

Astarion observes Karlach. Tall, imposing, gentle Karlach. The hound of the hells, depicted as bloodthirsty warrior is no more than a docile young woman who can drink someone under the table and has the enthusiasm to burn down a house. Quite literally.

Astarion should hate her. He should resent the way she can just avoid thinking about her own pain, while he can’t even remember who he was before he died. Yet, there is something endearing about the woman that pushes him to not be malicious to her.

Not entirely malicious, more like. He is still Astarion after all, catty and everything, “Maybe no one is good company enough for me, my dear.”

At that, Karlach laughs again. A genuine, deep kind of laughter that could appeal the most arid of hearts, if they are able at all to feel some type of positive emotion anymore. Astarion learnt long ago, vampirism dries up your ability to feel mildly, and everything becomes so much. He cannot even phantom what a pure vampire feels, if just a spawn like him has this experience.

In any case, that laughter both irritates and feeds into the growing affection he could see himself feel now that he is out of his own hell. It is difficult to trust again, to let his soul be soft and open to something that could hurt it again, but Astarion has the feeling that both sentiments he feels towards Karlach come from the same source: her past.

He has been robbed of the wonder one feels for the world, and there she is with the clock ticking inside of her, and she can laugh, smile, love with unbound enthusiasm. She embraces what comes to her when Astarion trembles at the mere thought of exposing his true self again, if there is anything there anymore, if there is anything to be saved anymore.

“Sorry, mate. I need a breather, but I don’t want to be alone.” Karlach breaks his train of thoughts with those simple words. She motions to lay down on the grass, nearby his tent and in his general presence.

“Who said you had my permission?” He asks, a bit annoyed with the newfound company that invited herself into his brooding space.

She chuckles again, a bit more sad now, as if to show once again that his choice is the one that will isolate him. Astarion knows that his actions are not those of someone who will be trusted, liked or cherished, but maybe he wants that and maybe he deserves that. If he doesn’t trust those he travel with, it’s more than natural they will return the same energy back at him, but for now he is exhausted of the pretense and the faking.

Only for tonight, he wishes he could linger in his hurt.

“C’mon! I will be silent as a mouse, promise!” She says, in that whine she usually uses the moment she wants something. Astarion heard it before, when she asks not to be left alone at camp or when she wishes to have one more ration of food before going to sleep. It is always about something harmless, inoffensive whether she gets it or not. She is not selfish, or demanding, but always wanting.

And what can he answer? Can he say no? He considers the options; as if he isn’t already in a precarious situation as a spawn, as if she wouldn’t be favored if it came to the point of being chosen, as if there is much more for him to lose and be left alone to fight whatever it is they need to go against from now on. He cannot have her upset with him, he chooses.

“Alright. Alright. But give me my space and my silence, darling.”

The only answer he gets is an excited, low little laugh that stays in the air long after it left Karlach’s lips. She first kneels down, just to lay back on the fresh grass, as her skin burns and warms up like it usually does. Astarion cannot help but let his eyes wander towards the tiefling after a few seconds, finding her with her eyes filled with stars and a smile on her face.

It is odd, the way the light played and reflected on her content features. The way the stars were bright, small and delicate inside of her and the way her eyes are so lively, drifting from one point to another, following imaginary patterns in the sky.

Astarion doesn’t know what it is, though, that pushes him to ask, “Is it that interesting?”

Karlach turns hear head towards him, surprised. She makes a confused noise as if to ask why he is talking to her, then she grins big and toothy, and answers with a light teasing, “So you don’t want me to talk, but ask me things anyway?”

Astarion is about to tell her to nevermind the question, to simply continue as she is doing, and he looks ahead as he resolves to avoid even thinking about her. But before he can act all puffy about it, Karlach looks back at the sky and sighs, “The stars are just so beautiful. I missed them.”

Astarion stays silent.

He raises his eyes to look over the dark expanse of the night sky, with stars dotting the black and blue with their intense light. The moon, hanging high, shines down into the nearby mirror of water and dances on the surface. Astarion has seen this sight so many times, as the night is all he has ever known in the last centuries, but tonight it’s different.

Tonight, even if with fear in his heart, Astarion walks these lands a free man without the worry of having to return home with a victim or to face some sort of torture. Tonight, the stars are witnessing his autonomy from a power he couldn’t oppose before, but now is merely a memory that lives miles away and won’t reach him easily.

Tonight, he is with people who profess to care for him. It is difficult to understand, to believe and to learn, but Karlach herself roars and acknowledges her immense need for affection and, in doing so, admits her care for others. Astarion can’t even attempt to seduce her, easy as it would be, because that body burns hot like the hells.

A funny thought, one he voices, “They look even more beautiful in your eyes, darling.”

If he cannot seduce her with physical affection, he can attempt to test the waters and do so with sweet nothings whispered as close as possible without harming himself. He sees her giggle at the compliment, he is sure the movement of her arm was supposed to be a light shove, but she rethinks before he is burnt, and her limb simply lays in the space between the two of them.

The gentle warmth coming from her hand, if he didn’t know better he is almost tempted to take it in his cold, dead ones to hold and seep into his flesh. He wonders how it is, to burn from the inside, and to have no beating heart. He smirks both for the reaction he got from her, and because of that bitter thought; his heart beats no more, he is pretty sure. If it does, it’s because of no natural cause.

But Karlach adores and loves, with all her soul, still. Despite the lack of heart, she is kind and sunny like a hot summer day, one you will curse for the heat but will miss once snow starts to settle on the streets. He still has a soul, doesn’t he? No one can take that one away from him.

Could he love and rejoice in the company of someone else, could he learn to enjoy his freedom like Karlach does, despite the years of constant torture weighting on both of them?

He cannot be anchored to the past, he thinks. If he wants to feel this soul wiggle and be moved, he cannot stay where it hurts and freezes. He needs a hot summer day to enjoy after a long, cold winter without sun.

And just as those thoughts start to crowd his mind, Karlach jumps on her feet and stretches her limbs, announcing, “Alright, mate. I’m gonna get something to drink, want any?”

For now, Astarion decides, he wants to get close the only way he knows how. For now, he touches known territory and he will see, eventually, if something new can grow from this sun that decided to revolve around him by chance.

“Bring me some wine, will you? And come back to talk with me, I think I need the company.” He smiles, seductive. Karlach blinks at the suggestion, but she laughs and tells him she will be back soon.

Astarion looks up, at the night sky.

The stars shine bright, lonely, but perhaps there is beauty even in things one knows already, if watched with new eyes.

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz Brekker x fem! Ghafa! Reader - Selfish

A/n: So I wasn't fully happy how this turned out but it's fine! Also btw I changed the title it was previously There for you, there for me?

Warnings: Heart break, language, it has Kaz in it so... I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: Inej your sister is coming back and you know it's selfish but maybe you don't want her to return?

You knew you it was stupid, they all warned you not to. But how could you not? Those raven locks and those deep cold eyes that drew you into a endless ocean of Kaz Brekker. You knew it was silly, crazy even, but maybe that's what the world needed? Did the world need the impossible? The insane? The crazy parts?

When the ice court heist left everyone in shambles trying quickly to pick up the pieces of what you had all lost, and gained. While Nina and Matthias went off to Fjerda, Wylan and Jesper ran the markets, and Inej went off fighting slavers, you...

You stayed.

You stayed for the man that your sister held his heart, the man that you fell for. Staying in Ketterdam surprised everyone, staying with the dregs surprised them even more. You could have left with Inej, you had also been trapped in the menagerie, but your heart had told you to stop listening to your head for second. Would you be happy if you did?

No.

It was the simple yet complicated answer. You realized that you would never be happy as the barrel had become a way of life for you. You were a goddess here, why would you let that go? Ya it was selfish but the sea would shallow you whole with memories you didn't need, they almost did on the ice court heist.

You scale a building as you rip open a letter from your sister giddily, awaiting to see the words on the page that were meant for you. Taking the letter out of the envelope, your smile slowly starts to fade away into a frown as your eyes go down the page.

Dear sister,

The seas have been treating me well, the slavers seems to be cooling down a bit which leads me to my next point of this letter. I'm coming back to visit Ketterdam! I really don't know how you live there, remember the seas are always open for you! Also can you do me a quick favor and in this envelope there's another note inside here for Kaz, can you deliver it for me? Thank you!

May the Saints bless you,

With lots of love, your sister;

Inej

Dread filled you up. Maybe it was selfish however perhaps selflessness wasn't one of your qualities. But you didn't want Inej to come back, you had started something with Kaz. Building anything with Kaz was hard, much less a relationship. Would he choose her over you? The possibilities were endless of what could happen, but you saw very little outcomes where you and Kaz would stay together.

Of course he would choose her, why wouldn't he? You call yourself a goddess, yet your worried what might happen if your little lover might come into contact with your sister. Ha! Your nothing compared to the Wraith.

Shut it. You think, but the truth still lays there right in front of you. It was out in the open and you couldn't ignore it anymore. But what would you do?

Be happy for them. A voice in the back of your head whispers sadly.

Yes, that's what you would do. If they would want to be together you would help them. Selflessness may not be one of the qualities you possessed but you somehow had grabbed it off of someone else shelf. It was in your hands now, and you were going to use it.

As you start to walk back over to the Slat, one thought remains in your mind at the plan you had just formed.

What about you?

+++++++++++TIME SKIP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wait on the docks beside Kaz, as you two stand side by side waiting for the boat The Wraith to unload. Wylan and Jesper are also there, talking to each other like there's no tomorrow. They're probably just trying to shake off the nerves. You know you are.

You nervously fiddle with your hands as it feels like Inej's crew takes forever to unload everything and start getting everything together. You may not have wanted your sister to come back but you still wanted her to be safe.

And alive. That would be enjoyable.

Finally after what seemed like a century you see the girl come out from the boat and step onto the docks. A single beam of sun light somehow seems to hit her face perfectly as she does and it makes her look like a saint.

Jealousy fills and bubbles in your gut heating to a boiling point. But you push it down because thank the saints she came back alive and unhurt. You pull her into a hug as she comes close enough to you.

While pulling away you smile at her, one of the things that you don't do very often, even so you only really do for two people. Internally you cringe for thinking about Kaz and Inej in the same thought process.

Be happy for them.

Wylan and Jesper go in for a hug and Kaz just's nods at her not liking touch. Though, his eyes still shines a certain way when he looks at her.

"How did the sea's treat you?" Kaz ask's her and Inej goes into a whole delivery of stories about her time at sea. You all started walking to a near waffle house and the one group suddenly turns into two. With Inej, Kaz, Jesper, and Wylan at the front, and you walking in the back. Alone.

For a split second you wished Nina and Matthias were here. Although Nina would like to listen to Inej's sea stories she would have stayed with you. But this is as it should be.

You didn't deserve that kind of kindness.

They go into the waffle house and you step aside into the darkness on the street, you were no Wraith but you were still a Ghafa.

They don't even notice your absence.

You watch them through the window and although it may had been a bit creepy you were sure Kaz did worse and you lived in Ketterdam so... And everything you see just confirms your suspicions.

Inej and Kaz look at each, Kaz looks her that way and quickly looks away. They share little innocent touches that would go unnoticed by the regular person but meant your world was slowly breaking. Touch, touch, touch.

Tears well up in your eyes and you push down sobs. Turning sharply to the side you run down the street for a bit before finding a building and a ladder. You scale the building with the help of the ladder not being careful enough so bruises and scrapes would probably show up. But not having enough will to care.

You go and stumble to sit down on the edge and when you do the sobs finally at last leave your throat.

There ugly and uncalled for, because why did you have the right to cry?

No. You growl in your mind.

For once you did have a good reason. Your heart just broke. By the saints even that sounds silly and stupid but you really didn't care.

People always seem to try and describe a broken heart but you absolutely cannot know what it feels like if you have not had your heart broken before.

Tears roll down your face as you continue to sob. Then abruptly... You stop.

Well, your tears silently roll down your cheeks but your sobbing stops. The full feeling finally hits you and the roll coaster you thought you would be experiencing isn't there. It's worse.

Your heart has been ripped out of your chest and it's leaving a gaping hole. Honestly, you don't think you'll ever get it back.

Pathetic, you knew it was, but maybe so was life and this is all just some sick game for someone else's enjoyment.

You barely hear it but there's a soft click of a cane and you didn't even realize it but it was already dark out.

Shit.

You know it's Kaz and you can't face him. You really can't. One because he would obviously know somethings wrong just by taking one look at your tear streaked face. Two because how could you face the man you loved, when you knew he at least liked your sister?

"I would say the stars aren't out today, but they never are in Ketterdam." You start to say, and your voice doesn't wobble but it does have a sense of finality to it.

Kaz comes and stands behind you, and you assumed that he nodded because he didn't say anything. Or maybe nothing was needed to be done or said.

"Inej sometimes said that the stars are the saints watching over us." You pause for a second looking up at the starless sky. Where are you going with this?

"If they are then Ketterdam must be out of their reach and Inej must have brought them back from the sea."

Kaz steps forward so he's even closer to you, and place's a shaky hand on your shoulder.

"I don't think that's true." Kaz whispers into the cold air of Ketterdam.

"If the saints are real and they couldn't watch over Ketterdam. But there's one saint that's always here, that could probably leave if they could but won't. One saint that must be the child of them all, because their so much more then they give themselves credit for. And that the saints sent them to watch over Ketterdam but to never leave." Kaz stops talking and he slowly sits down beside me.

You don't turn to face him you never do when you have talks like these. It's like a silent rule between the two of you, but Kaz Brekker was literally a criminal you both are. So your not nearly as surprised as you should be when he finally decides to break it.

He place's a gloveless hand under your chine and gently turns your head so your facing him. Your eyes finally meet his and everything comes into focus and-

Oh.

You've heard people say that the eyes are the entrance to the soul and maybe you didn't believe them before but it couldn't be more right. In Kaz's eyes you see what he's been trying to tell you for months, but you were so blind in thinking that Inej loved him that you didn't see his attempts. But now, you knew.

He didn't love Inej, he love's you.

He cups your cheek and slowly leans in and lightly brush's his lips on yours. It's barley a kiss but it's enough for now. It's all you could ever ask for.

"Inej love's you." It's a simple statement and Kaz just nods. You hesitate trying to think about your next few words carefully.

"I don't want to hurt her, I never could hurt her intentionally but... What should we do?"

Kaz thinks for a moment before speaking. "Inej will be out at sea and I think one day she'll find someone. She'll be out at sea and we'll break to her when she's ready. And I think whatever we have we can- can have. I know it's selfish but I've never been know for being selfless."

You just intertwine your guy's hands together in agreement while you watch the gloomy but alive streets of Ketterdam.

It's selfish, you both know it but selflessness apparently was not something in both your personality traits.

Words 1905

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung

[lilover131]

Chapter 55 Thoughts

It’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to actually write down my reactions and thoughts about a chapter, but after a agonizing 3 month wait for a new chapter, I had a lot of time to think about a lot of things. The final day was certainly the most difficult, and I slept horribly trying to wait for this chapter to come out (it’d be nice if companies could regularly list like....a release time on a certain date so people aren’t literally refreshing the page every 5 minutes to see if it’s up. Or at least have some consistency!). My lack of sleep and constant thoughts about CCS though did manage to stir another CCS related dream, which I will talk about in a separate post. 

But hot damn was this chapter worth the wait! It certainly wasn’t what I expected, but it was really great in a lot of ways! 

ANYWAYS, I’ve rambled enough. My thoughts on this chapter are below the cut! 

So I will start off by praising the hell out of Sakura for her quick thinking in using SIEGE. That was definitely a wow moment for me and really shows her growth as a magic user and as a person honestly. This action not only spoke to her skill but also to how quick thinking she is in such an uncertain situation. Surely, having never had any reason to doubt Kaito or question his abilities before, It is almost unbelievable that she managed to think of that and do that in the mere seconds she had to respond after Syaoran made his accusation of Kaito. I’ve noticed as of late that her instincts in particular seem to be really really on point. She starting to trust herself and her feelings, and because of this, she is able to act without hesitation, and I have a feeling that is  going to be extremely vital later on. 

Sakura starts off by asking the real important questions and things I would ask myself in her shoes having just met another magic user, especially one with unclear intentions like Kaito. She seemed like she was studying him to gauge him and the reasons for his actions or what he might do. What intrigues me about this part is she first asks him if he knows about her being able to use cards. He answers with a simple “Yes”. But when she asks about if he knows about Syaoran, his answer is far less simple, and that might potentially be telling. Kaito stated that he knows Syaoran to be a “extremely gifted sorcerer” and “the next head of the Li clan”. Now, perhaps I’m overthinking this, but he could have just answered ‘yes’ like he did with Sakura, but instead he listed specific details about him that shows Sakura he has done his research and knows a lot about him. Now, we already knew that he had this information of course, but why does he want Sakura to know this in that moment? I’m fascinated by this and what he was trying to tell Sakura by telling her he had this sort of knowledge. Additionally, why is it that when it pertains to Syaoran, Kaito behaves so much differently than he does with anyone else? I’ll probably delve into that in another post, but I have some theories on that. 

After making this statement, Sakura and Kaito exchange some meaningful looks, though it’s unclear what the both of them are thinking in that moment. Sakura turns to look back at Akiho and Syaoran and appears nervous, like she’s concerned about something (I have a theory to that as well, but I’ll leave that for another time). Then, Sakura mentions Momo and asks where she went, indicating that she has not forgotten about the other person around earlier. Sakura seems to really be evaluating her situation with these questions she’s asking, but unbeknownst to her, Momo has been cut off from her tv drama and is pouting in the mansion. hahahaha! 

Momo, while upset that she can’t see what’s going on anymore, praises Sakura for her for her quick thinking and mentions that neither she or Akiho’s mother accurately predicted how powerful Sakura would become. The implications of this are unknown as it is unclear what they are trying to stop to begin with. 

The scene changes back to Kaito and Sakura’s ‘standoff’, and Kaito states that Sakura cannot stay hidden in SIEGE’s field forever. I believe he was trying to stir a reaction and speed things up as probably the longer he has his time spell up, the more it affects his body, so he cannot afford to waste any more time. In what appears to be his way of showing desperation (at least in my opinion), he points his staff in Syaoran’s direction and threatens Sakura by stating that “He will make the first move” if she won’t. My jaw dropped a this, and though I don’t believe he actually had any intentions of hurting Syaoran, just the implications and threat of it was enough to make my blood boil. Lmao. 

BUT ONCE AGAIN, SAKURA IS QUEEN and reacts ridiculously fast to protect her man and uses one of her newest cards, TRANSFER, to switch places with Kaito and....well...she put him in a box. Hahahaha!! Seeing Kaito all crammed in that small space inside of SIEGE was honestly so satisfying and it was nice to see him on the losing side for once. I can’t imagine he was happy about it either. He’s used to things going his way, and in this particular venture, it has been anything but. 

However, this unfortunately also becomes Sakura’s downfall. By switching places with him, she put herself out of the protection she had before and was now affected by Kaito’s time magic. She managed to take a few steps, running towards Syaoran, before she ultimately was stopped. Kaito makes mention of her progress. When you think about it, she’s gone from being able to move a pinky to moving as far as she did this time, so it’s a significant growth. 

He goes on to talk, though it’s unclear if Sakura could hear him at all, about a phrase Akiho had learned in her Japanese dictionary one time about “growing leaps and bounds”. He seemed lost in a memory where Akiho spoke of how she wished to improve her Japanese so she could become even better friends with Sakura and the others, and how happy she looked when she spoke of this. Honestly, this sentiment from Akiho is super relatable and resonated with me. I am fortunate to have so many friends in so many different parts of the world, and I absolutely love learning about their cultures and words of their native language so that I can become closer to them. But what also makes this moment so meaningful is that in this particular moment, Kaito is thinking about Akiho and her smile. One may wonder “Why is he saying this right now?”, but it really does display how much Akiho is on his mind and how much he cares about her and his reasons for doing all of this. 

Shortly after saying this, he seems to be in pain again, showing once again the deterioration of his body the more he uses time magic, and it seems clear that he really is getting closer to his own demise. He even says as much when he pleads to Sakura to please make the card he needs soon, before he runs out of time. I don’t think he’s necessarily displaying a will to live or anything yet, but more a “I have to get this done before I perish, or it will all be for nothing”. 

Disappointingly, time is rewound once again, and he takes it back to before he and Akiho decided on a location for their outing. @meimi-haneoka​ mentioned this, and I agree with her, but he could have rewound to any point in time and could have completely undone their entire day, but he chose to still have that outing with her anyways. It was a conscious choice he made, though he quite casually made sure they changed the choice of location (for obvious reasons). Lmao!!! 

Now we get to the really exciting part. So after Kaito rewound time, I gave a big sigh and thought “Well, here we go again”, but something was very different this time. Sakura’s serious expression standing in her hallway said it all, and she suddenly grabbed her phone from her purse and called Syaoran, saying “We need to talk. It’s important”. 

So Syaoran, being the most adorable worried boyfriend he is, runs into her house literally in the next panel and immediately asks if Sakura is okay. I can imagine that he probably ran the entire way to her house too, and it’s just so wholesome I can’t even. It’s crazy how well CLAMP shows the strength of their love just through small actions like these, and it really is a work of art with its subtleties. 

Kero and Suppi have not been told why Sakura’s behaving so seriously, as she was waiting for Syaoran to get there first, but soon enough she tells them all at once about how she remembers using SIEGE at the botanical garden. This understandably confuses Syaoran, since in his mind they haven’t even gone there yet. But, she goes on to explain that she remembers using SIEGE, but more importantly that she remembers seeing Kaito using magic. This is HUGE. Not only is this progress (have we finally gotten out of rewind hell?), but this means that Sakura likely will not be nearly as affected by any time magic in the future. And if Kaito cannot make her forget about him using magic, that makes every action he does in the future very precarious. It’s unclear what the implications are of this revelation, but it’s going to entirely change how she reacts around Kaito, perhaps how she reacts around Akiho, and the dialogue she has with Syaoran. Syaoran should theoretically be able to talk to her now about Kaito and what he’s done so far and what they know, and I’m so so curious to see what Sakura will do with this knowledge. Will she be upset? Will she be mad? Certainly she won’t be happy to know that Kaito’s been forcibly keeping Syaoran silent, but Sakura is a forgiving person in nature, so it’s hard to say what she’ll do. 

Anyways, this chapter was incredible and I cannot wait to see how this develops from now on. I have a feeling things are going to get real intense here soon now that Kaito can’t control things like he’s been doing a majority of the series. Things are definitely different now, and honestly it’s about fucking time. 

[mego42]

Hi, since you seem more positive/excited about the triangle possibility than a fair amount of people, can you talk more about why? I fall into "the not thrilled about the possibility, but have a little hope it could result in some good moments" group and would love some more reasons to not dread it. Thanks! And love your writing and love reading your tags :)

hey anon!! i am v sorry you are not thrilled and am always happy to shriek nonsense about why i’m excited (though idk how much it will help bc the tl;dr is more or less i’m hype for a triangle bc i am an incredibly messy bench who lives for drama and if you are not a similarly messy bench, ymmv)

don’t get me wrong, i super understand the trepidation, pop culture is LITTERED with absolute shite examples of love triangles but here is an incomplete list of reasons i personally think beth and rio are the perfect kind of disaster to set up a spectacular love triangle:

the existence of a triangle implies there are FEELINGS at the various points

the use of the descriptor "romantic" applied to said triangle implies ROMANTIC feelings

i am a simple woman and my pulse has already picked up

one of my absolute most favorite things about the toxic stew that is beth and rio is how completely balls to the wall obsessed they are with having and holding each other’s attention and focus

like straight up possessive nightmare people

now imagine wedging an actual rival for one or the other’s attention between the two of them

(something we have not reeeeeally seen before, 206 withstanding and i’ll come back to that, bc lbr beth doesn’t give a fck about dean and rio’s known that for sure ever since he walked LITERALLY RIGHT PAST THE GUY to rail his wife in a public bathroom at her invitation)

(the 204 proximity point has nothing to do with this list it’s just a source of endless delight and that was enough for me to justify adding it)

where was i

mmmmm feelings, possessive nightmares, OH RIGHT

they are also nightmares in the sense that it appears to be physically impossible for them to use their words with each other unless it’s like, ripped out of them which means they’re sitting on ALL THE BAGGAGE between them and it’s just stewing and boiling and

wait, let me back up

look, i want brio sex as bad as the next person

but even more than brio sex? i want them to fight

i mean like, Fight fight

i want the kind of knockdown drag-out brawl that brings Stuff to the surface and leaves them with a bunch of nasty, ragged, pieces dragged out into the light bc lbr they’ve both done some incredibly awful things to each other

(kind of like what 213 was looking like before it all went to shit tbh)

(i’m just saying, beth saying you put it all on me with that kind of jagged, disbelieving betrayal behind it? my catnip)

(it’s up there with rio at the picnic table in 306 telling her that ship sailed when she put three slugs in him)

i live for them being raw and honest and emotional okay

IF ONLY THEY COULD BOTH DO IT AT THE SAME TIME

bc here’s the thing, for the magnitude of horrifying shit between the two of them? i (personally) think that they like it because they are so! twisted! when it comes to each other and i love that for me, specifically

like no seriously a huge part of what i love about the ship is that whole i see your monster and it looks like mine thing they’ve got going on when they let themselves and i am full on foaming at the mouth feral at the thought of them leaning into that

i’m sorry i’ve lost the thread again

wait no that was the thread

okay so basically they’re both ticking time bombs of smothered angst and rage who are absolutely incapable of being normal about each other but are also keeping all of that locked tf down and the only time we ever really see it come out is when one o them is too emotionally overwhelmed to keep their iron grip

you know what brings emotions to the surface?

TRIANGLES!!!!!!!!!!!!

CAN YOU IMAGINE THE SEETHING MESS OF EMOTION THAT HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BRING TO THE SURFACE??????

AND HOW UTTERLY UNEQUIPPED EITHER ONE OF THEM WOULD BE TO DEAL WITH ANY OF IT????????

AND HOW SIDEWAYS IT COULD EXPLODE???????????

like don’t get me wrong there is absolutely no way it’s gonna be pretty but i didn’t get on this busted ass carnival ride expecting nice things, i am in this to feEl stuFf and nothing makes me feel stuff more than seeing the two of them feel stuff and this is  perfect set up for that

you know how they say the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference?

you know what’s not indifference? big messy emotions

but okay okay okay i am icarus and the sun looms large, lets say they don’t fight, that doesn’t mean they’re not gonna feEl stuFf on their own

do you remember beth’s face in the van when rio hugged dylan??? do you?????

and what did she do after that? went out and robbed him blind and held his shit hostage until he caved in what is one of my top 10 of all of their scenes

and god, idk if we’ve really seen rio really get jealous of attention lavished on beth yet but when i think about it i want it so bad my teeth hurt

and i know i’m not alone here bc i have i think 3 jealous!rio prompts in my inbox rn

(i’m not saying i’m working on it but i’m also not not saying it)

god i just

can you imagine how much fun it could be to watch rio seethe over having to watch someone else be into beth

WHAT WOULD HE DO?????????

ESP IF HE COULDNT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT DIRECTLY BC ITS SOMEONE HE CAN’T INTERFERE WITH

oh christ and if beth responded to it??????????

oh gOD thE mESS

idk even if it doesn’t lead to a confrontation (but i feel like??? it would have to????) just the idea of the kinds of feelings they’d have to grapple with and confront within themselves is D E L I C I O U S

also, to jump back to an earlier point: brio sex

i know some people are feeling like the sexy chemistry between beth and rio is lacking this season

you know what’s great for chemistry? fuel

you know what provides great fuel? messy emotional situations that tug at intimate connections and make people feel out of control

you know what’s a messy emotional situation that tugs at intimate connections and make people feel out of control? 

you probably guessed it

A TRIANGLE

(and we know that neither of them does well with feeling out of control period at all even without the intimate emotional stuff mixed in so like oh boy)

listen i am just saying given where they’re currently at with each other i cannot think of any situation more ripe for an explosive hook up than one or both of them feeling driven to reassert their claim/mark on the other 

would it be nice? no, probably not

would i care? not even a little bit

(don’t you judge like any of y’all are any better than me)

look. to quote marie kondo horrifically out of context: i love mess and the mess potential in a romantic love triangle with beth and rio as two of the three points is stratospherically high.

[drawlfoy]

Soft Spot

masterlist request guidelines requests are open!

pairing: draco x hufflepuff!reader

request: yes! there are two of you who requested something very similar, so i’m knocking this one out first to take care of both of you!

summary: you’ve had a crush on draco malfoy for as long as you can remember,...but the funny thing is, you’ve never even spoken to him. he’s mean, he’s spoiled rotten, he’s everything that a hufflepuff could ever want...but you will keep it a secret, right? won’t you? because it’s not like he even knows you exist...

warnings: language and cringiness

a/n: this is gonna kinda be my farewell fic for the summer, something that breaks my heart. i’ll be slowly drafting other requests and i WILL start posting that dramione one once it gets to late fall for the ~aesthetic~. thank you to everyone reading this! you’ve inspired me to keep writing and growing my skills. i love each and every one of you, and i hope you enjoy this last little tidbit of my writing for the summer! but also... i might have a little cringe surprise of a fic i already wrote like 6 years ago saved for later on. this isn’t goodbye, it’s just a see you later!

also... i don’t really know if seekers shake hands at the beginning of the match. i think it’s just the captains but like....let me live and let the plot thrive in a slight harry potter AU where seekers shake hands before games okay

music recs: 1980s horror film II - the wallows

word count: 3,383

tags tags tags! @accio-rogers @geeksareunique

also i literally cannot believe myself i was supposed to write this over a period of a week not 3 hours wtf

“The more concise the flick, the more concentrated your magic will be. No, no, Longbottom, I said concise, not unhinged...try again.”

Y/N watched sympathetically as the Gryffindor struggled to turn the vinegar into wine, Professor Flitwick peering over his shoulder and cringing as the boy flailed about. 

“Poor Neville,” Hannah murmured to her right, her vinegar already having been turned into a deep crimson. “You’d think they’d let up on him by now and just let him do his thing with Herbology.”

“Yeah, but then again, he is abnormally talented at that,” Y/N said, watching the boy carefully. “He probably has the skills. He just needs to tap into them.”

Hannah smiled at her, leaning back into her chair. “Oh, Y/N, always seeing the best in everyone.”

“Oh, stop it. I’m just optimistic.”

“Are you, now?” Hannah leaned forward, wiggling her eyebrows. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it takes more than just simple optimism to have a crush on--”

“Hannah! Quiet!” Y/N’s cheeks flamed at the suggestion. “You’re talking too loud.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She rolled her eyes, still wearing a mischievous grin. “It’s just so funny to me. Have you ever even talked to Mal--”

“Do not say his name!” Y/N hissed. “And...yes, for your information, I have. Last year he bumped into me. I said ‘sorry’.”

“And?”

Y/N looked puzzled. “What?”

“And what did he say back?”

She blushed even harder, slinking down in her seat. “Okay, okay, he didn’t say anything. He just nodded and kept walking.”

Hannah grunted, looking entirely unimpressed. 

“At least he didn’t say anything mean! That’s an improvement!”

“Y/N, I love you,” Hannah began, “And I think you need to have slightly higher standards.”

“You antagonize me,” Y/N moaned, dramatically throwing herself over her chair. “Let me have a little fun. I know nothing’s going to come out of it. So do you.”

Hannah giggled. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. And if something did come out of it....” --Y/N laughed at that-- “...I would still love and support you no matter what. Besides, I think Nott is kind of a catch. Think you could set us up once you have your own Slytherin?”

Y/N smacked her arm good-naturedly. “Anything for my Han--”

“Ladies,” Professor Flitwich greeted. “I’m not seeing much magic occurring over here.”

“We’re done, Professor,” Hannah responded, motioning to the two charmed goblets of wine. Y/N simply nodded along, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the eyes of all of the students in the room. It had grown silent, and it seemed as though the Slytherins over in the corner were smugly awaiting a deduction of points from the Hufflepuffs. Draco Malfoy looked entirely uninterested, choosing to absentmindedly levitate a quill instead.

“Very well.” Flitwick nodded briskly. “But I would prefer if you two took your conversation out of my classroom. It seems as though you both have a grasp on this lesson and no longer need to be here...if you so wish.” There was a twinkle in his eye that reminded Y/N why Flitwick was one of her favorite professors.

“Thank you, Professor,” the two said in unison as they began to pack up their things. Flitwick waved his wand, effortlessly changing the wine back into its original form. 

The Slytherins began chattering again, filling the room with its usual ambiance. 

“Malfoy was looking at you,” Hannah hummed into Y/N’s ear.

“No, he wasn’t,” she responded. “I saw him. He was levitating a quill or whatever.”

“Not the whole time. And, oh, the way he was looking at you...total fuck-me eyes.”

“You’re gross, Hannah,” Y/N managed in between laughs. “Was that before or after he stood up on the desk and confessed his unconditional love for Hagrid?”

“During. He always did strike me as a polyamorous guy.”

“Stop!” Y/N burst into a laughing fit, drawing some attention to them as they walked out the door. “You’re bad!”

Hannah chuckled a bit herself, skipping down the corridor. The fall afternoon sun shone through the windows, casting a warm glow on everything inside. Y/N jogged up to meet her, struggling to shove the last of her supplies into the right pockets of her satchel. 

“Slow down, will you?” Y/N called, stopping to catch her breath.

“Damn, Y/L/N, you really expect to be able to seek this weekend? With that lung capacity?” Hannah joked, skipping back to her.

“Says the person who has never played a single match of Quidditch in her life,” Y/N countered, raising an eyebrow. 

“Okay, you got me there.” Hannah raised her arm in a surrender. “I watch you enough, though.Speaking of watching you...”

She sidled up close to Y/N, shoving her playfully. “How does it feel playing your very first game against...Slytherin? With Malfoy as the opposing seeker?”

“Oh, stop it,” Y/N groaned. “It’s nervewracking enough. I saw how he treated Harry in the last game. He plays rough.”

Hannah’s eyes widened. 

Uh, oh. She only ever did that when she was plotting.

“That’s it,” she sang, skipping circles around a confused Y/N. “That’s how you’re gonna find out if he has a soft spot for you!”

“Huh?”

“You just said he plays dirty with Harry,” she explained. “And I’ve seen him mess with Cho too. If he’s nicer to you and doesn’t shove you off your broom...then you know that he likes you!”

“Hannah, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Y/N admitted, beginning to walk forward again. “First of all, even if he did like me, why would he be willing to be nice to me in front of the entire school? To a half-blood Hufflepuff? He couldn’t, it would ruin his reputation. And second of all, there’s no way he does like me. You said it yourself...he’s never said a word to me.”

Hannah sighed, cracking her knuckles as she looked at the stained glass on the ceiling. “That’s true. But you liked him even before you talked to him. Why do you assume he couldn’t feel the same way?”

“Because he’s a Malfoy, and I’m not his caliber,” Y/N said, her voice flat. 

“And how come you get to decide what his caliber is?”

<>

Hannah’s suggestion rattled around in Y/N’s head. It frustrated her--it really did. She was supposed to be training for her very first match, not daydreaming about how Draco’s hair would look under the setting sun of the pitch. But she couldn’t stop. 

She started paying even more attention to him, if that was possible. She stole looks at him from across the dining hall, watching as he rolled his eyes and laughed at something Pansy Parkinson said. Now that she thought of it, she rarely saw Draco without Pansy...but she couldn’t decipher if that was a mutual decision or if Pansy clung to Draco like Hannah told her she did. 

On Friday night, instead of discussing strategy with the captain, Zacharias Smith, she was watching a particularly interesting scene at the Slytherin table. Pansy was pushed up next to Draco, whispering whatever she was whispering into his ear. He didn’t look thrilled, but he certainly wasn’t pushing her away. Anger boiled in her chest, so much so that she almost didn’t notice the tap on her shoulder. 

“Y/L/N.” 

The firm male voice finally caught her attention as she spun around to see Blaise Zabini looking down at her.

“What?” Her tone was sharp, clipped from what she had just seen over at his table.

“Malfoy wants to talk to you,” he said blankly. “You are the seeker, right?”

“Er...yeah.”

“Come with me then, we don’t have all day.” Blaise grabbed her arm, hauling her up rougher than she would’ve liked. Hannah shot her a shit eating grin which Y/N did not return. 

She was too nervous. Why would Draco want to talk to her? 

Blaise dragged her across the Great Hall as the rest of her house curiously watched. The Slytherin table, hostile as ever, quieted down to a hushed murmur as she neared the group that always surrounded Draco. 

“Here,” Blaise spat, pushing Y/N forward to him. She stared daggers at him in response. No, she was most certainly not in a cheery mood today. 

“I said bring her over, not drag her by her hair,” Draco said, slowly dragging his eyes over her. She flinched in response, not quite knowing what to say. 

“What for?” Her voice was strong, something that surprised her greatly. 

He raised an eyebrow as Pansy scowled in the background. “It’s concerning our match tomorrow. I want to propose a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes.” Draco sighed, looking rather irritated that she hadn’t caught on yet. “You agree to not catch the snitch, and I’ll give you something that you want. Galleons, perhaps?” He smirked. 

“No, that’s quite alright,” Y/N responded breezily, instead focusing on quelling the raging blush on her cheeks. The way that Draco looked at her made her feel like he could see into her soul, and she couldn’t tell if she liked it yet. “I’m perfectly content with just playing a fair game.”

“A fair game?” Draco snorted, and the rest of his friends followed suit with canned laughter. “I think you’ve forgotten exactly who you’re playing against, love.”

“If you’re so good, then you shouldn’t have to bribe me,” Y/N shot back before she could hold her tongue.

Wait...what did he just call me?

Draco shrugged, seemingly unbothered, but Pansy sprung to his defense. “Draco, I think you ought to teach this little Hufflepuff to mind her manners around you.”

Y/N, stunned by her realization, simply stared at him, waiting for a response.

“No need, Pansy,” he said, holding eye contact with Y/N. “There’s plenty of time for that tomorrow. You can...er...go now.”

Blaise seized her arm again, but before she could move to yank her arm out of his grip, Draco’s voice broke the silence again. “Zabini, I hardly think that she needs an escort.”

Dazed, she pulled her arm away from him and dashed off. Hannah was waiting back at the Hufflepuff table, her plate long forgotten.

“What was that??” she squealed, nearly bouncing in her seat. Y/N just stared at her.

“He called me love.”

<>

Thankfully, she had long cast aside her thoughts of a particular white-blonde by the next morning. Y/N was so nervous that Hannah nearly had to force down her toast.

“C’mon, you need the energy!” Hannah pleaded. “At least drink some water. I can’t have you passing out on the pitch! Hufflepuff needs you!”

Zacharias, or Arias, as he asked her to call him, was sitting next to her, calmly going over the strategies for the game. 

“You really do need to eat,” he informed her. “I know you feel like you’re gonna vomit, but you’ve just gotta force it down. You’ll thank me later.”

Under his watchful gaze, Y/N began nibbling on her toast, forcing it down.

“Atta girl,” he praised. “Anyways, your biggest worry right now isn’t the Beaters...it’s the other seeker. Normally it wouldn’t be like that against, say, Gryffindor, but you’ve seen how Malfoy plays. He isn’t afraid of a few fouls.”

Y/N nodded, the nausea returning.

“But you’re smart, and I chose you for a reason,” Arias said, patting her shoulder. “You’re going to do great. I know it. And our Chasers are great, so even if you can’t catch the Snitch, we’ll be okay.”

She nodded again, leaning into him and blinking hard. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a pair of ice grey eyes trained on her.

<>

“...and I want a clean, fair game today,” Madame Hooch finished. Y/N was ashamed, but she’d spaced out on the entire speech, instead focusing on how nervous she was. 

She was obviously shaking, and she felt even more pathetic standing across from the Slytherin team. They were all buff and tall and scary looking, and she was short and shaking. 

Arias placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Don’t worry, Y/N/N. It’ll all be over before you know it.”

She nodded, swallowing to try and combat her dry mouth. It didn’t work, especially when she saw that Draco was watching her with an amused look on his face. When she caught his eye, he raised an eyebrow quizzically at her and smirked. 

Arse. 

“Seekers, shake hands.” Hooch’s voice cut into her thoughts. Arias prodded her forward, and Y/N complied, stepping closer to Draco. 

He clasped her hand firmly, leaning forward just a fraction. 

“Don’t be so scared,” he stage-whispered. “We’re playing a fair game, remember?” 

At this, his Slytherin teammates chortled in the background as Arias frowned.

“Leave her be, Malfoy,” he hissed, pulling Y/N back to the Hufflepuffs. “I swear, if you lay a hand on her, I’ll...”

“Relax, Smith, I’m not gonna touch your girlfriend,” he drawled. 

“She’s not my girlfriend!” 

“Mhm.”

At Hooch’s command, the two captains stepped forward and shook hands, Arias glowering at Malfoy and Malfoy smirked down at him.

The game started before Y/N knew it, and suddenly, her worry slipped away. She was no longer a lowly Hufflepuff--she was a seeker, and a damned good one at that. 

She had watched enough Slytherin matches to know Malfoy’s dirty strategies. He generally relied on faking out the other seeker, which she found a rather cheap tactic. 

Y/N decided to just take a few wide sweeps around the arena, dipping up and down through the air. Draco clearly hadn’t seen anything--he was flying in lazy circles much higher than her, clearly trying to get a higher vantage point of the arena to search for the gold glint in the air. 

Speaking of which...when she flew past the Ravenclaw section, she caught a glimpse of a slight shimmer in the air.

No way. This early in the game?

Y/N squinted, pausing in the air for a second. The gold shimmer moved again, just a few hundred feet away from her. 

She’d spotted it!

Glancing up, she saw that Draco was watching her intently. As casually as she could, she began making her way towards the Snitch, still flickering around a little next to one of the columns of the pitch. 

When he turned away for a second, Y/N gunned it, speeding towards it. It began to move away from her rapidly, but at the same, time, she was gaining momentum. 

“And it appears that Y/N Y/L/N has spotted the snitch!”

The Hufflepuff section roared as she closed in on the distance. She began stretching her hand out and was just inches away from it when something lightly bumped her shoulder.

Draco.

He moved so his shoulder was pressed to hers, keeping up with her exactly and leaning forward, mimicking her movements.

“You’re not half bad, you know,” he mused as nonchalantly as the whistling air would allow. 

“I do. Same with you.”

Y/N’s broom was going as fast as it could without being uncontrollable, and it seemed that that was the case for Draco as well. His arms were longer than hers, though, and he was just inches from grabbing the snitch. 

She could’ve just shoulder checked him to throw him off balance like she had seen him do so many times, but at the same time, he could’ve as well--but he wasn’t. 

In a sudden stroke of creativity, Y/N dived down , throwing Draco’s attention off just enough to lag behind for the briefest of seconds. Darting forward, her fingers managed to close around something cold and vibrating with energy.

“HUFFLEPUFF HAS CAUGHT THE--”

<>

Her head was heavy in the middle and light at the sides. Had it always been like that, or was she just hyperaware of the fact?

Her surroundings were dimly lit with a single candle, but even that hurt her eyes as they fluttered open. She vaguely recognized that it had to be nightime--wherever she was. Y/N tried to sit up, whimpering as the small of her back ached. 

“Whoa, slow down,” a familiar voice cautioned. It was posh and male, but she couldn’t quite place it. 

“Mmmhmm.” Her acknowledgement of the person speaking to her was unrefined and embarrassing, but she didn’t care. Whoever it was clearly cared enough to watch over her.

The memories came flooding back...the sensation of the snitch humming in her hands, Draco flying next to her, awe written all over his pretty face..but then the white hot sensation in her back, the sudden halt of her broomstick, the rushing motion as she plummeted to the ground...the boneshattering impact, the sounds of Draco wailing for help...

But then it cut off there. 

With newfound energy, Y/N hoisted herself up, taking in more of her surroundings. It was most certainly at some hour in the night in the Hospital Wing. A figure sat at the chair next to her bed, and a candle illuminated the currtain surrounding her. 

She squinted at the figure. “Who are you? I can’t see.”

“Oh.”

Dark arms rustled about, pulling out a wand and whispering Lumos. A ball of light revealed a very disheveled looking Draco Malfoy. Y/N gasped.

“Sh, you’ll wake Pomfrey up,” he whispered. “It wasn’t me who hexed you. It was Harper.”

Y/N blinked up at him. “I know.”

“You do?” 

He stared at her for a few seconds, his mouth agape.

“Of course I do, I heard you yelling for help. I wouldn’t do that to someone who just hexed me.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Bet you wish you took that bribe now, huh?”

Y/N snorted. “No. I won.”

Draco just shrugged again. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great.”

“I figured.” He shifted in his seat a bit. “Listen, I...er...”

“What?”

He scooted forward just a few feet. “I’m sorry for trying to bribe you. I’ll be honest, I was just kind of looking for a reason to talk to you. Winning this match would’ve just been the cherry on top.”

“You...what?” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Stop it right now. What did Pomfrey give me? She must have me on some hard stuff...wow...”

He laughed, leaning forward even more. Y/N could smell a clean whiff of pine and black tea. “No, no, you’re not on pain potions. That I know of, at least.”

“So you’re telling me the truth?”

“Why would I wait her for...I don’t even know how many hours for you to wake up only to lie to you?”

“You were here for the entire time?”

“I mean, I had to shower and eat, but yeah, basically.” He cleared his throat, carding his hand through his hair. “I find you kind of interesting. Always have. Is it a crime to want to get to know you more?”

“I must be dreaming,” Y/N muttered, turning her eyes up to the ceiling. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“My parents aren’t as strict on half-bloods,” he hastily said. “And your academic and athletic record kind of...outshine the fact that you’re a Hufflepuff.”

“Charming,” Y/N responded dryly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that...” He wrung his hands together, gazing down at them instead of meeting her eyes. “I’m saying that I have...I don’t know, a soft spot for you? And if you feel the same way, I think it’d be, er, interesting to maybe see where this goes.”

“You’re saying that you have a crush on me?” 

The abruptness of her comment caused her to shyly look away at the ground. 

“No, look at me,” he murmured. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Y/N let out a lengthy exhale.

“What is it?”

“Could you tell? That I’ve had a massive crush on you since, well, forever?”

He shakily laughed. “Oh, thank god.”

“Well, could you?”

“Hm.” Draco thought for a few moments, placing an elbow on her bed so he could rest his chin in his hand. “Yeah, kind of. I couldn’t tell if I was overanalyzing everything, though.”

“You weren’t,” she assured him, turning to face him again.

He stared at her for a few seconds, his soft grey eyes wide with wonder. Inching his free hand closer to her, he paused. “May I?”

She smiled then, ignoring how her face hurt. “I mean, you waited hours for it.”

“No,” he corrected. “Years.”

With that, he gently slipped her hand into his, rubbing slow circles onto it as she drifted off to sleep. 

final a/n: me: so i’m not posting any more imagines until i’m literally into college and an adult! also me: here’s a fic i wrote in two hours because i couldn’t focus on my sat prep! also so so so sorry for any spelling mistakes/plot holes/grammatical errors in here. i just slammed this one out

[notesofarichlycolorednight]

eyooo!! i listened to firesorrow girl [TUMBLR | SOUNDCLOUD] by @gerrydelano and HAD A MIGHTY NEED (to also analyze this)

disclaimer: I have only listened to TMA through one (1), read it ONE time, so if you read something that seems wrong it probably is because my memory is not The Best (the seasons are 40 eps long and 30 mins each, Jonny why) and I’m probably straight-up not remembering or misremembering some aspect or detail about a character/a relationship/a part of their narrative

(and before you say it, i absolutely CANNOT just go relisten to an ep out of order. my nd brain Will Not Let Me until i have listened thru all 4 seasons, In Order, several times)

ALSO: i speak very definitively here, but it doesn’t mean i’m right abt my analysis

italics and bold are lyrics, normal is analysis. if there’s a way i can make this more accessible, lmk!

analysis under cut

little girl tries sleeping in the fireplace at home no one banished her inside it, she just lay down on her own she stares up into the darkness of the chimney and she hopes that someday she may go up in smoke this makes me think abt hilltop road first and foremost (but i have a feeling i’m missing something aljlkdjf) this is also the first hint to agnes’s wavering thoughts abt her being “the chosen one” for the lightless flame she’s already wishing she could burn, or in other words be normal

oh, the ends of her hair curl into embers in the wood beneath her head like a pillow, splintered shoulders in the soot flickers turn to flame and moves in kisses up her arms it loves her, so refuses her a scar i really like the imagery here bc, aside from the splinters, it evokes a softness embers are pretty, pillows are soft, “moves in kisses up her arms” really evokes a gentle intimacy, even before the line “it loves her” but then the last line really solidifies agnes’s relationship with fire--she wishes it would burn her but it loves her too much to do that, so she doesn’t

she doesn't burn oh, she learns again, reinforcing the motif agnes’s relationship with fire--the layers of 1) her not wanting this but 2) the first doesn’t care and loves her anyway i also see it as foreshadowing, or at least leading up to what she learns (put a pin in this)

pretty girl sits quiet in the coffee shop alone staring empty out the window like she used to do at home she feels his eyes fall down upon her from the counter, like a doe the ache of yearning blisters in her bones jack barnabas! hilltop road the use of doe, evokes the visual of “wide eyes,” which, in turn, evokes naivety--jack doesn’t know who agnes is, what she is, or that she could hurt him, even if she didn’t want to love, love, LOVE the fire motif here and used throughout the song--using fire metaphors bc it’s so fitting (put a pin in this)

he follows her up to the hill where water never works to send him down she broke his crown and blessed him with a curse her only kiss a smear of kerosene, a desperation unrehearsed and love made sure to let her know it hurts (love made sure it hurt) this only hit me like after the 5th time listening in a row, but LISTEN, “jack and jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.” i think it could also mean hilltop road, but i do think the stronger theme lies in that nursery rhyme. his name is jack and then to solidify that, “to send him down she broke his crown” vs. “jack fell down and broke his crown” i really love the contradiction of “blessed him with a curse” *ben from parks and rec voice* it’s about the layers. so listen, love is often seen as a blessing. but coming from agnes it’s a curse bc she burns anyone she touches. this is also in reference to her momentarily transferring her curse (the love from the lightless flame/fire) to him through her kiss “smear of kerosene”--another way of using a metaphor that evokes images of fire, and I LOVE IT “a desperation unrehearsed” MORE LAYERS YO. she knows what her touch will do to him but she’s so desperate to feel normal for even a second, she kisses him anyway “and love made sure to let her know it hurts”--going back to her curse, the love from fire/flame, and the destruction is causes bc of this. it could also be representative of how love can be very destructive. ppl often describe “the fires of passion” or passion as being like fire/hot *eyes emoji* i think the addition of “love made sure it hurt” could also communicate how the fire’s love for agnes is possessive--she cannot be normal or human or have any other relationship except with the lightless flame

he burns oh, she learns a parallel to “she doesn’t burn”--the striking difference between her and jack (the lightless flame and the rest of the world) what she learns here, tho, is also a parallel between what she learns at the beginning of the song there she is learning abt herself, here is is learning about everyone else

learns that breathing screamsmoke blackens hearts as much as lungs a heart motif, representative of love another fire-related metaphor that breathing in smoke doesn’t just fill your lungs with soot, but also covers the heart (love) in soot, as well a toxic love, as soot is bad for lungs and hearts it can’t be coughed back out and she can’t glisten like the sun using fire-related metaphors--the soot in her lungs and on her heart cannot be “cleaned” or cleared from her body with the body’s natural reaction to something obstructing breathing, which is coughing listen, i’ve said this before AND YOU’LL HEAR IT AGAIN: i really love “she can’t glisten like the sun” bc the whole point of fire, as the lightless flame sees it, is what the fear is named for: desolation. BUT fire is ultimately a neutral thing. if you respect and carefully control it, it can give warmth and life--like the sun (tho you can’t control the sun lmao). so there are positive aspects to. but not for agnes, given her upbringing and literally how she was conceived there’s no one left to save with love and no one she can touch affection is the pyre built on wildfire in the brush reinforcing her being unable to connect with normal humans bc of who she is ALSO i’m pretty sure this is referencing the bonfire she was born in--the ritual that made her the lightless flame’s messiah also, also, the use of the word “affection” uses the theme that fire itself love agnes, in it’s own, twisted way

her hands were only ever made to press through burning flesh and boiling tears won’t put it out but scald it like the rest referencing her birth again--that she was made to be this messiah for the lightless flame, for their ritual to remake the world through the lens of the desolation also more fire-related metaphors that i am IN LOVE with ugh, and, okay “boiling tears” communicates what agnes is feeling again--that she Does Not want to be their messiah, she just wants to be normal. she doesn’t want what the fire has given her but even her tears burn bc that’s what she is, what she was made for and the love of waxen women makes no difference in the end if never she can make and keep a simple human friend reference to jude, specifically, but other members of the lightless flame, as well. from what i remember, they all loved her but in the way that the fire loves her: possessive and toxic (like soot in the lungs) and then the reinforcement that she’s not human and cannot have the connection with humans she desperately craves, even if it’s just a tiny sliver

she can’t burn oh, she’s learned YO the difference between “she doesn’t burn” and “she can’t burn”--there’s a passiveness to it in the first line, but it’s more active in the second. here me out: as i said before, the “learn” lines communicate the inner thoughts of what agnes is thinking, the revelations she makes as he grows and lives. so “she doesn’t burn” communicates her learning and get used to the fact that fire doesn’t hurt her. versus “she can’t burn” communicates her knowing and accepting that the fire doesn’t hurt her, but she can hurt others with that very same fire. lowkey it’s so hard to articulate this difference, but this is the best my brain came up, hope it makes sense

YOOOO GIVE ME A MOMENT THIS NEXT PART IS MY FAVORITE PART

firesorrow girl says, “hang me up; i’d like to go” (i would like to go) referencing her death--her realizing that bc she’s fallen in love with jack, she can no longer lead the ritual for the lightless flame. but bro, listen, the addition  of “i would like to go” is a direct line to what agnes is thinking and feeling. more than not being able to lead the ritual, she doesn’t want to live like this anymore; doesn’t want to live her life unable to make connections with humans this isn’t quite a chimney she can column up to choke (i choose now to choke) a throwback to the first lines about her lying down in the fireplace and looking up through the chimney ALSO has a double meaning here, reinforced by what agnes is thinking: you can choke on smoke. her death involves literal choking the “i choose now to choke” again is a direct line to what agnes is thinking/feeling BUT ALSO a decision she finally gets to make autonomously the weighted hand upon her waist is chained there like a ghost, (always been a ghost) i know you’re probably tired of hearing but i ain’t gonna stop saying it. I REALLY LOVE THIS LINE. the lyrics say one thing, agnes’s internal thoughts say another bc raymond fielding is a ghost. not just like a ghost. he is one to her. i believe it was distortion helen who said that there was a scar on hilltop road. and we find out later that it’s bc hilltop road belonged to the web and even tho agnes burnt the house down, the web still left a mark on her. part of that mark is fielding, who i assume, was an avatar for the web. and it’s quite literal, as agnes never got rid of his hand he literally is a ghost haunting her bc of this but the rope she wears is woven cold with hope (yearning to be cold) THIS LINE BRO,,, i’m gonna say it I FUCKING LOVE IT. of course, referencing the rope she uses to hang herself BUT LISTEN “woven cold with hope” YOOOO THIS IS TAKING THE FIRE LOVES HER THEME AND TURNING IT ON ITS HEAD COMPLETELY she has been burning with fire this entire song, her body a raging inferno, contained in a body that appears human but hurts anything she touches. BUT AT THE END OF THE SONG WE GET THE COLD fire is often associated with warmth is often associated with hope, right?? but this time bc of the circumstances and what fire means to agnes and the lightless flame, being cold, not burning everyone she touches horribly, is her hope ”yearning to be cold” strengthens that message coldness is also associated with death, and here it’s quite literal but it’s also important to note that it’s also still agnes’s hope. so it’s still a very positive thing, even tho it’s associated with very negative things. bro,,, i gotta go lie down

those who can remember sing her name out like a prayer (i am not your prayer) the lightless flame, of course, bc they are a cult. don’t @ me, i’m right BUT “i am not your prayer”: again, a direct line into agnes’s thoughts. she never wanted, nor asked to be their messiah. she was thrust into the position against her will as she was literally borne in flames. from birth she had this shouldered on her. and she doesn’t want it, even in death the music to it hollow of the truth in her despair (hollow with despair) goes along with the “prayer” for her above: the lightless flame sing and mourn her but they’re not mourning her, not agnes, they’re mourning their messiah, the one who was going to lead them through a ritual that would remake the world. their words ring hollow bc of this. and it hurts even more with “in her despair” bc even in agnes’s despair at not being able to connect with a human, as well as not being able to lead the lightless flame like they wanted her too, they’re only mourning the idea of agnes they’ve created in their minds, not who agnes really was in wickerwind the crackleburn of candles cries for fate (i rewrite my fate) and firesorrow girl may someday be chosen again (firechosen girl, again) i LOVE the use of “wickerwind” and “crackleburn.” no analysis i just love the way they sound okay but the “cries for fate.” i think this has a lot of meanings. one is the fire crying out either about agne’s ultimate fate (having to kill herself or die, anyway) and/or crying out for another to fill her position (putting agnes’s fate onto someone else’s shoulders). another is the lightless flame also crying out for the same reasons. and the third is agnes, herself, crying out about her unfair fate. i think that last one is strengthened by “i rewrite my fate.” a common but powerful theme in many stories of a character defying fate bc it’s unacceptable to them. it’s also wholly contradictory to what the lightless flame wanted and then, of course, the second line strengthens the idea that they’re already looking for another messiah for their ritual

and so the wheel turns ‘round and ‘round

final note abt the music that is probably wrong bc i’m not musically inclined BUT i have been listing to sideways on youtube, who is very musically inclined. and that makes me an expert right? /s anyway, what i wanted to note abt this musical structure is that the beats aren’t the usual 4/4 that most popular songs use these days.

and what that means is that you get gratification ever 4 beats. (sideways describes it way better than i ever could here) this song doesn’t follow that structure (i think lakjlkdjf again, i’m not musically inclined at all) and i think it really adds to the theme of how agnes feels: trapped with this fire burning inside her until she finally chooses freedom (tho i know it’s more complicated than that in-verse).

now whether was was purposeful or not, i have no idea. but still a cool detail i, personally, noticed.

--

again hope it was semi-coherent. as with my other analysis, i just listened to the song and wrote what i was thinking, stream of consciousness

bloodwater ballad analysis | bonus meme i made for these analyses bc it’s funny and i wanted to share

[psychemeanscure]

PART 10

“What the hell is this, Jang Taeyoung?!”

He expected it. The moment she came into his office aggressively putting down the dammit recorder onto his desk, he knew then what explanation she’s seeking. “Half of the stocks. Really, Jang Taeyoung? You’re giving that imbécil a share on my Nightclub who f*cking harmed me, and now without consulting me? Por favor! Not this time, cabrón.

Hearing her curses in multilingual, he can literally see her true explosion. She’s totally a walking onslaught right now. “Jang Taeyoung, are you even listening to me? Bullsh*t!” She may be berserk with the situation already, but for him seems to be a chill-out. He was just in front of her comfortably sitting with cross legs, leaning by the headrest of his seat. And she’s totally not enjoying it!

“You’re overthinking too much, Sung Eunyoung. Chillax. We’re not in a hurry.”

“We’re not? F*ck off, Jang Taeyoung. We’re talking business here, and you’re acting like a jerk who was just playing around recklessly. Don’t try me, bastardo. You know what I’m capable of.”

Thus an insulting smirk came into him. “Tss. As if I need your permission woman. I have my own mind, Sung Eunyoung. I can do what I want. Why does it always have to do with you?” piercing eyes are now bore to him. “You know that isn’t the answer I’m looking for, Jang Taeyoung. Can you just cut the chase, please!”

“My apologies, Sung Eunyoung. But this time is an exemption. I won’t give you any. My bad.”

His firm decision which only made her much furious. “What’s wrong with you?” needing his attention indeed, as she fiercely grabs his arm the moment she follows him by the mini stall bar of his office pouring a glass of tequila of his own. “You’re always blunt, Jang Taeyoung. Then why so sudden you’re being uncooperative?!” But her continues banters doesn’t give him even a flinch. He was just there doing what he intended to do. Not until she forcefully seizes his hold from his glass and throw it right from the spot, creating a scatter of its liquid and pieces on the floor which took him by surprise.

“Now, tell me the g*ddammit plan of yours loco, or am I going to do something beyond your imagination. All you need to do is to answer my big why, is that even hard to share? Damn you!”

She’s throwing all her daggers already, still he won’t do the same. Only to be answered by his innocent remark that seems to be sarcasm she did not like. “Hey. Halt there, Sung. Please, count to three before you do something impulsive. It will only put you on danger when that happens.”

He just gradually held hands on between her shoulders as if the only support for her to calm. Well screw him, it’s useless for her anyway. She only dodges it by her hands as well, yet too late for her another banters for their unsolved conversation interrupted by the knock of his door whom he initially welcomes, tuning the face of his assistant.

“It’s time, Boss.”

“Thank you, Jae. Just give me a minute.”

Their only mere interaction before his assistant eventually went out, as he turns to her again. “Now I have an important appointment to tag along. As much as I want to spare a time with you, I need to go. But fine for the sake of your mind, I might just give you a hint maybe.” As he leans closer to her ear. “The reason why I did it? Simple. I saw a very valuable opportunity that even you can’t imagine.” By then he leans away, settles a hand in his pocket. “Just trust me, Sung Eunyoung. I promise, you would rather love it in the end. Wait for my surprise on that day.”

“Then expect our partnership, void.”

Her cold declaration that he didn’t even bother to be threatened. He was confident instead. Peeling a piece of his gum. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Now, I really have to go. Be good, okay?” as he caresses her cheek for the last time before finally deciding to go out, shutting the door, leaving her with immense frustration. “Michin seki.” Her last curse through it where the man who just gave her headache went out.

This is truly one of few moments where his stubbornness left her fuming. He’s at it again. The moment her ears led to the pieces of her recorder, she knew she’d going to deal with him again. But for some reason, today seems to be different for her. He never gave her idea which he always does even if it still against her verdict. She really felt something off this time like his unspoken plan is her final calling to snap out. She’s already full of him that she had to make the decision as soon as now.  

Tending to her phone finally, facing the caller who have also occupied her already messy headache. “You think I can’t do it, Jang. You left me with no choice then.” Accepting the call without a doubt. It’s really now or never for her certainly.    

~

“So? Are you now convinced, Mr. Kim?”

Her first set of words the moment she ended off her recorder, only to get an unbelievable reaction from the latter. “You have always surprises me, Ms. Sung. One moment, I’ll be your mortal enemy, the next day you’re not. What should we call this day then, eh?”

Turning her business look to the man by the passenger side, as she said. “Let’s just say camaraderie, Mr. Prosecutor.”

Thus a sneering laugh came in. “Camaraderie it is, Ms. Sung. Then shall I know what makes you decide right now?”

“Because I cannot attain it anymore?” A slight mockery from her chosen words which just stupidly believe by the man. “So are you saying, you intentionally made partnership to him for a reason of busting his flaws in the end? Is that it, Ms. Sung?”      

By the mention of him, she can feel again the boiling fuse of her heart as the man beside her tries to fish her still. So with a cold nuance she retaliates. “Feel free to sum up your own conclusion, Mr. Kim. If that makes your thought relieve. Just make sure one thing for me, and it is to corner him for he had fool me enough.”

“Alright. Expecting it by tomorrow?”

“Just wait for my call.”

Left with a shaking head. The prosecutor then stops his catching schemes. He can’t really get her in every angle for no reason. A true wise businesswoman indeed. He admits. And with a surrendering sigh, he speaks. “Guess he do cause you too much troubles then. Though I still wonder why do you have to deal with a troubleshooter, considering how big you are already in the corporate world. Right, Ms. Martin?”

And yes, this prosecutor is well known her other identity. The only thing that had halt him for getting her in the interrogation room was the lack of evidence he can’t seize no matter tactics he does. Loopholes to loopholes that can’t seem to perceive which end him being a barking dog of her instead. Poor him who had to only hear an insulting laugh from her.

“Really? From you who had known me working with corrupt officials and so, a simple troubleshooter doesn’t even slip your mind? What a lame excuse Mr. Prosecutor. I think your brain needs a rebooting too. Your kind of deduction seems to be out of its time already.”

“Crazy b*tch.” With a last shut from her passenger side door, the poor prosecutor went out with a frustrating face surely. Opposite to how her smirking face, enjoying its remark. “I already know that, sir. No need to falter.”        

Her last unheard answer before finally backing up her gear to leave the still standing man outside.

[a-method-in-it]

Trans(masculine) former Potterhead here! I still own the books, were a gift, a hardcover set from my mom from years ago. I even made a parody of Im a Lumberjack and I'm OK from Monty Python as I'm a Hufflepuff and I'm OK and helped found a Dumbledore's Army club at my High School I loved HP so much, I was obsessed, but now I have so many mixed emotions about the franchise I don't really know what to do.

I cannot speak for trans women, but as a queer trans person, if I see someone reading the books or watching the movies or wearing merch its like. Ok. I know I might get along with this person, they like the same stuff I (used to) like....BUT do they know how the werewolf thing is about AIDS, implying gay people are out of control monsters, and how the only villain with werewolfism specifically targets minors, implying pedophilia is a trait inherent in gay people? Do they know that when a trans woman reads the books they worry they wont be "woman enough" to keep the stairs in the girls dorm from turning into a slide, because they know that the author specifically thinks they don't deserve to sleep in the girl's dorm because of their gentials? Do they understand that JK Rowling's opinions are there, insidiously rooting into young minds? Are they reading this critically? Or do they support what JK is saying? Do they know all of these things and not care about it, dismiss it out of hand?

Does this person want me dead?

It boils down to a Feeling of Unease. Is this person safe for me to be around? There is a Very Real Danger that the person in the Ravenclaw Shirt and Golden Snitch Earrings is going to call the police on a trans woman going to the bathroom, or beat her, or even kill her, because the author of their favorite series has convinced them trans women are men in dresses and that men in women's bathrooms are dangerous. That person could also be a nice genuine nerd, queer themselves, even potentially a friend, but now I am Suspicious of that person. I am suspicious of anyone who openly enjoys it (unless they are children, kids don't know better, or if they have a tattoo, idk how old that tat is). They want to read it at home and want a discussion on new themes and how to make it better/less gross? Fine by me.

But if someone is publicaly supportting her, staying extremely active in the fandom defending the books or movies or JK herself, having and wearing merch which could direct new people (probably kids! Who will get Obsessed! And don't know better!) into buying things from her and giving her money? After all that she's done? After she literally helped create legislation against being trans?? Not cool.

The series is just simply tainted for a lot of trans folk like me. I still hold it dear foe what it did for me as a child, and I know if I read the series again I would still love it, but I would also HATE myself for enjoying it, knowing that the person who wrote this, the bit of her soul which she has given me, wants me dead. Wants my friends dead.

So I'm not really saying if you support HP publicaly people will see you as a TERF but I am also absolutely saying that people will see you as a TERF if you publicaly support the HP franchise. Death of the author is well and good when the author is dead and/or their estate doesn't get any money for new books or merch purchased, but she is alive and actively trying to kill trans folks, so literally anything that could be seen as support of her, or get others to support her even accidentally, can make trans folk uncomfortable and feel unsafe.

Hope this helped? I know I'm not the original asker, this is just my two cents.

Hi there! Thank you for posting this lengthy and very thoughtful response (and I hope you don’t mind my answering publicly -- if so, let me know and I’ll delete). There is one (admittedly very long) thing I’d like to say in response, but if you’re not looking for that, just know that I really value hearing your perspective and you can feel free to skip all of this and carry on your way. 

---

You say that you would probably enjoy the books if you reread them, but would hate yourself for doing so -- and I just want to say that what you like does not make you a bad person or act as any valid basis for deserving hate, from yourself or anyone else. 

Like, for instance, I’m a person who cannot stand horror movies and I am genuinely confused that anyone would enjoy watching terrible things happen to people for 90+ minutes. But I would never say that people who like horror movies are bad people just because they do enjoy that. The same goes for violent video games -- I don’t like them, but I don’t think the people who do are bad.

Because what media you personally enjoy has really no bearing on whether you are a good person. Being a good person is about how you treat others, whether you are kind, whether you are patient, whether you are understanding, whether you help people when you can and show up for the people in your life when they need you. It has nothing to do with whether you like a particular book or movie or videogame. 

So if you do want to reread those books because you think they would bring you joy, I hope that you do. 

Long before she became a TERF -- (and for the record, I don’t think that she was actively and consciously transphobic at the time when she was writing the books, for the simple reason that most of the people who are TERFs today weren’t at that point) -- I had already gotten used to tuning out Rowling and her fondness for Word of God pronouncements. 

Like, Dumbledore being gay actually fit into the canon very well, but others? They just felt tired and not thought-out and her whole short history of American magic was incredibly lazy. The werewolfism=AIDS thing was offensive in very real ways--and also it should be noted just does not make sense as a metaphor. Not just because AIDS will kill you and being a werewolf will not and there’s no way to bridge that fundamental disconnect -- but also because the way people talk about being a werewolf in the damn books doesn’t resemble at all the way people talk about AIDS patients in real life. Which makes me think she didn’t actually mean for it to be a metaphor when she wrote it and then years later threw it out there because it sounded good to her in the moment because she hadn’t thought it through.

By the time we got to wizards shitting on the floor because she very clearly forgot that she had already had chamber pots referenced in the text, I was long-since tapped out. 

Which is all just to say that it is beyond fair for you to use being a fan of Harry Potter as a data point in gauging your safety as a trans person -- but if we’re talking just about you enjoying the books?

Well, in that case, fuck Rowling and her weird post-canon comments that half the time don’t even make sense. If she wanted trans girls to not be allowed up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, she should have put it in the damn text. As far as I’m concerned, trans girls and trans boys are allowed up whichever staircase matches their sense of themselves (and, I like to think, nonbinary kids get the run of the whole tower). 

In fact, as far as I’m concerned, she lost the right to have me care what she says about the Harry Potter universe when all of her comments started being unbearably lazy, asinine, and/or nonsensical. If she’d been half this uninspired and careless when writing the actual books, I would have stopped reading them. 

This has been a very long reply on that single point, but I want to end by saying that the point is, even if I accepted the premise that liking the Harry Potter books is in and of itself wrong -- and I hope I’ve made something of a case that it’s not -- it still shouldn’t be something you hate yourself over. Short of actually murdering people, I’m not sure there’s anything that’s grounds to outright hate yourself, honestly, but liking a book is definitely not on the list. 

Either way, you seem like a lovely person, one who is very thoughtful and has been very patient and generous with your time in writing all of that out. I hope that you find ways to also be a little more patient and generous with yourself -- about Harry Potter or any other topic -- because you deserve that and you do not deserve to be hated by anyone, least of all yourself. And I also hope you have a good rest of your night. 

[binkyisonline]

- My Baby Does Me -

Finally I can publish the translation made by @painkiller80 of my os Deacury with fem!Fred. Hope you like it!

Pairing: Melina Mercury x John Deacon

___*___*___*___*___*___*___

John has to make up for a lot of things, first of all, the way he ran away in the middle of the new album’s recording session, leaving the band with a simple note on his bass guitar in the recording studio.

This is why Melina finds herself, for two days now, enjoying his company, in a wonderful private villa with the best view in Bali.

John showed up days ago at London’s studios, back from his escapade, with a simple white envelope and two first-class flight tickets. Melina was the only one there, ready to let out one of her best outburst he had ever seen, but after seeing him again, so beautiful and relaxed, desperately seeking an apology, all she could do was to accept to spend few days together.

To hell with Brian and Roger.

She knows exactly why she cannot be seriously angry with the man, among the four of them, John is the one who, the most, needs his personal space and even if he chose to show it childishly, she can’t blame him.

Her pride still strongly raging inside her, she’s the leader and a strong woman despite all, but she finds impossible to resist him, she loves him too much.

Once discarded her own façade, Melina decides to treat herself with this impromptu holiday. She deserves it as anyone else, she deserves to be pampered in one of the best resort on the island, and she deserved all the attention of her own bass-player.

The sunset hides behind the palm-trees while a light sea breeze moves their branches, its light follows the outline of the reef that contains a little private beach; the fine white sand slowly turning cold giving a sweet soft feeling under her feet. She wore her best bikini, a black high-cut little number with a tight top that covers the bare minimum, her purpose is clear; she wants to be absolutely suggestive and flirty but just for John’s eyes.

Her deep black hair is styled in soft curls, still slightly damp from the recent showers, like the rest of her sun-kissed body.

She wears a bit of makeup, kajal to emphasize her cat-like eyes, plump lips with just a touch of gloss to make them shiny and needy and a little gold necklace, long enough to sit at the top of her plunging neckline, just like a little and innocent bait.

Melina walks slowly, swinging her hips, to the center of their beach where a king-size canopy bed is. She literally throws herself in the middle of it and adjust herself slowly, just like a cat that waits for her master, sinking her head between the fresh clean pillows; clearly aware on how to pose in the exact moment she heard footstep behind her, eyeing John’s profile on her right when he appears a few moments later.

He’s breathtaking,

His skin lightly tanned it glows in the afternoon sun and makes him so much inviting even if he wears a simple short-sleeves shirt and pale shorts; Melina regrets his choice to cut his beautiful curls though

The echo of his perm slightly remains on the short hair. He seems more mature, a man although still younger than her, she finds him dominant but in a sweetly gentle way.

John has a quite charming gaze that already makes her feel like a helpless prey while carrying a welcomed surprise, two whiskey glasses and the best Tequila around, just fresh from the fridge because Melina could clearly see few little drops of moisture on the bottom.

He smiles at her, a sincere and childish smile, one of his bests and eyes her.

- Hello, kitten – he says stepping up on the wooden platform first and then on the bed, approaching her on his knees. She offers him a lingering smile, enjoying those little chest hair that appears from the slightly unbuttoned shirt.

- I should be still very angry with you, you know? – she murmurs, feigning offence, turning her head away from him but letting the other continue to enjoy the view of her body. Soon a pair of fingers graze her chin, making her face him, his sweet eyes eats her up slowly. He lightly strokes one of her cheek with his fingertip still saying anything; just watching her like it was the most valuable treasure he ever found, totally in awe of her beauty.

John kisses her slowly, caressing her lips with his, she extends her neck a bit to deepen the contact, open her mouth to let, even for a bit, him slip his tongue inside. It feels fresh, suddenly that light touch cause a hot shiver that goes straight in her lower abdomen.

When they break apart, john’s eyes burning with such an intense passion that she could feel her blood boil. She smiles and places her hand to caress the portion of bare chest and John inhale deeply at that.

- Now I understand why you ran away..- She said while looking briefly at the landscape before her – it’s a dream. The perfect dream-

Melina closes her eyes for a moment when John’s hand creeps into her hair, lightly scratching the skin.

- Never as much as this bikini, God! Mel ..you’re..- He stops himself trying to find the right words. So she decides to take advantage of the situation stretching and lifting her arms above her head holding the pillow, making her breast brushing against John’s body. He sighs deeply and a light growl escapes from his throat, the hand that was in her hair now rest on her hip.

- I am…what?- she murmurs letting him enjoy the view, bringing her face close to his neck just to leave a quick wet peck near his Adam’s apple and watches him swallow nervously, she giggles, proud to make such effect on him.

When she returns flat back on the mattress, the bassist’s hand tightens his grip a little on her hip absently sliding under her bikini bottom.

- Stunning – he whispers with a grin, stepping away just to take the two glasses.

Melina purrs like a cat while lifting herself up and leaning on her elbows, taking one of the glasses filled now with tequila.

When she swallows the first sip, she squints and curl her nose, making the other giggle.

She didn’t have to ask for another round since the glass is promptly refilled, and she raises an eyebrow amused.

She has a quite fun idea in her head now and John notice that.

He tilts his head on the side, settling better next to her, so he can almost intertwine his legs with hers.

Melina let a light chuckle, searching for cuddles that soon follows. She bares her neck to him letting his hand drove slowly on the hot skin and down to the side of her left breast.

- What’s on your mind, little kitty? – He asks, while she still smiles seductively at him, firmly holding the glass in her hand.

- Oh..you know..- She starts, biting her own lower lip – there are better ways to drink such an expensive tequila… - deliberately hanging on her words - like this one…-

John frowns a little, and she finds it adorable when he does that, watching him thinking and failing to understand what she’s talking about.

- A hint… – he asks then – maybe? – watching her expectantly.

The singer then points at her décolletage with a nod of her chin whilst allusively looking at him. She playfully rolls her eyes when he still doesn’t get it, so she points again the same spot but now with her own glass.

The bassist seems to finally understand and accidentally sucking in a breath, then parting a little his mouth in a smirk.

- Seriously? – he giggles, suddenly stopping and let out a little whimper when he sees Melina pouring all of her glass content on his breast.

On the other end, she shivers a little when the cold hits her hot skin making her nipples instantly hardening against her top. Putting on a little show, she closes her eyes, moaning softly and biting on her lower lip.

When she looks back at him, she has her best smile on, white teeth stand out between her plump lips.

- Seriously – Melina answers in a low voice, looking directly at John still speechless by her bold move. A lustful gaze in her eyes.

But soon she finds herself cheerful chuckling when her beloved’s mouth is on her chest, following all the little drops, licking, sucking and biting slowly her golden skin.

She lewdly sighs when he starts to squeeze one of her boobs in his hand, taking the soaked pendant between his teeth; she moans louder at the sight, his lips slightly parted and shiny. When he let go of it he goes back to explore her skin inch by inch, promptly shutting her up when he moves up to devour her lips, leaving her a trembling mess when he presses his body closer to hers. When they break apart with a wet pop, John focuses on her chest again, biting slowly on her neck.

- Squeeze your boobs together, love.– he sternly orders, blowing cold air on a fresh hickey; she didn’t need to be told twice and forcibly grab her breast pushing it towards the center forming a little cup, making her necklace disappear. John takes advantage of the situation, grab the liquor and pour a generous amount on her, careful to soak completely her bikini top too.

Melina lay her head against the pillow when John crashes his mouth on her chest to lavishly drink all that amber juice, moving quickly to the little swollen nipples pressed against the fabric, biting and sucking over the thin layer.

- D-Deaky – she stutters, now at the mercy of pleasurable shivers, feeling them flow between her legs, her bikini bottoms already ruined. John, on the other hand, keeps on teasing relentlessly on that exact spot, burying his nose in that soft, firm and perfect flesh of her breast. When he stops his sweet torture on the left one, Melina could see a tiny string of saliva that hangs off John’s lower lip, he immediately focuses on the needy other.

- Johnny – she whines, starting to rub her thighs together – c’mon..John – she moans louder, clearly turned on when she feels more tequila poured on her, this time on her abdomen, she could feel the liquid run down and slowly ooze on the sides of her narrow waist.

John slips towards her navel starting to lick it down, making her giggle at first. However, that dies down in the very instant when he slowly spread her legs putting himself in the middle of them. She’s so damn wet and it’s all his fault.

When he looks up to her, Melina’s breath hitches, and she doesn’t dare to speak, she’s just waiting for the next move; the bassist barely smirk while he tugs on her panties, sliding them down on her sides and off completely. She has no shame on obediently open her legs more while stares at him fiercely she realizes that she still squeezing her breasts involuntarily pinching on her nipples. She feels so warm it’s almost unbearable; John still stare at her, probably thinking on what to do next, but let her watch meanwhile his shirt flies on the floor next to her bottoms and can hear her holding her breath.

- You’re so…beautiful – she sighs, making him slightly blush in an instant, in contrast with appearance, now much more masculine than when they met.

He still is and always be her little Deaky.

That brief moment of tenderness dies down when John drinks the last sip of tequila in his glass, without swallowing it. Melina tries to say something, anything but words dies in her throat when she feels the bassist’s mouth against her pussy and the cool of the alcohol hit her clit.

She throws her head back, opening her legs more, if possible and enjoying every single lick and bite on her wet cunt, going crazy for that sweet torture. John mutters against hers, his nose deep in the thick dark hairs and his tongue rhythmically works on her outer labia.

She’s losing her mind, pushing her heels on the mattress and slowly lifting her hips towards that wonderful mouth more, but the bassist’s hands forcefully keeping her down at the mercy of his attack.

- J-John..God!..John..ah! – She cries desperately in need for more contact, moaning loudly when John working deep in her and a finger goes on her clit.

When both mouths clash on a new and hungry kiss, Melina can taste herself on his tongue, the faint taste of the Tequila mixed with the sweet taste of her juices make her collapse completely.

- Am I forgiven? – John quickly asks, still breathless, caressing her face lightly damp with sweat, pushing her hair away from her neck to leave a small bite; Melina arches a bit, pressing her breast against his, feeling the hint of chest hairs, and she rolls her eyes in pleasure.

- Oh…y-you should ..try more…for that – she affirms, trying to regain control over her body, failing miserably, her muscles still trembling and her voice weak. But she manages to slide a hand between their bodies and grand his crotch, his erection painfully hard, ready to be freed – You have to work harder than that to have my forgiveness –

John grins before lightly biting her on her chin, it doesn’t take long before they are completely naked against each other, Melina’s skimpy bikini bra now rests next to the bassist’s shirt and pants on the floor.

- You know I love you, Mel, more than my life.. – He whispers almost without breath against the singer’s neck when he slowly sinks inside her.

- I know stupid,..i..- she says weakly -..know –

She clings with both hands on his shoulders, feeling his muscles vigorously move under her fingertips.

- Forgive me, love - He rasps, making her smiles uncontrollably while she closes her eyes.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, now fully sheathed into her, and start to quicken his pace, gripping on her hips while his forehead rests on hers.

- Mel...fuck...i missed you- He whines, propping himself on his knees and taking one of her legs on his shoulder; the position allows him to go deeper.

- John...oh...- She mumbles, almost unable to speak, letting herself go completely at the mercy of her sweet boy who, now, worship her body like she is some kind of pagan goddess.

She had missed him too.

They continue to make love and to make up on the lost time while the sun dies behind the shore, and the light breeze of the night caress their sweaty bodies.

[the-third-body]

THE KILLING HOOK: Dorothy Allison, Anger, and Survival.

What does it mean to survive abuse? What meaning do we give to the stories we tell ourselves in order to survive, and how is our fashioning of them a form of survival itself? Is what we create in order to survive enough (to form a politic? An ethic? A life; a sensuous, sensual, full one?) What of the affects that go beyond or necessarily against attempts to live--moments of pure anger or rage or abjection---where do they fit into life (in that oftentimes they necessitate a turn away from it, at least in the sense of futurities sake…)? Perhaps what I’m asking is a question of direction, where to turn I mean, an orientation towards life, or a disorientation towards death? 

Bastard Out of Carolina is a semi-autobiographical fictionalized account of Dorothy Allison’s childhood growing up in rural, poor South Carolina. The books follows the young protagonist--named simply “Bone”--- from her birth as a ‘bastard child’ to her youth-filled days living with and escaping from her abusive stepfather, Daddy Glen. Though the situation and, in many ways, the story of the book resides in the abuse Bone endures, much of the content of the book focuses on little asides, Bone’s obsession with Gospel music, her friendship with Shannon, the ugliest girl in town, her ransack of Woolworth’s candy store. These descriptions, often episodic and almost out place (why the obsession? Where did Daddy Glen suddenly disappear to? Why do they fit with the whole only in scattered and fractured ways?), I would argue, are exactly where another part of the ‘situation’ lies---not necessarily in the content of what they are saying and not even necessarily how they are said---but the most simple and plain fact that they are said at all. For Bone, these stories act as a form of survival from and assertion beyond the violence she is subjected to. The book reads as a bildungsroman, though a fractured one; through her stories, she is able to construct and assert a reality outside of her immediate situation, a way of saying that the reality of her abuse is not the only one that exists. They function not as escape, but as a different affirmation of truth---one that is uniquely her own. Bone stays alive through the world that she makes for herself---these stories are language as survival itself. She fashions for herself a discursive world that allows her to both remember and invent…. a low-breathing place where she both knows that “there was once a time when you were not a slave, remember that. You walked alone, full of laughter, you bathed-bare bellied. You say you have lost all recollection of it, remember….You say there are no words to describe this time, you say it does not exist. But remember. Make an effort to remember. Or, failing that, invent.” Like Wittigs warriors, Bone remembers, or she invents. Her stories are soft and tender at the same time that I read them as absolutely militant. Bone asserts again and again (and again) that she will remain, that she will survive. 

But: do Bone’s stories really save her? One truth does not erase the other, there is no cancelling each other out, no null and void or net whole; the palimpsest, it remains. You can’t wash away what came before, or the remnants that were always already there. How does Bone live through that (how does anyone)--those blackouts of language, where you can’t be anywhere but in the thick, right under the shadow of reality, the fact of the exact moment of violence? Because what is abuse but social death, loss so deep your lost wrestling with the void where language, you, are not? 

So where does that leave Bone? Though in the middle of the book, Daddy Glen seems to recede as the contours of Bone’s inner world take shape, he returns climatically & expectedly; overarching, centerfold, looming, huge, overbearing, monstrous...what else can I say?; he is the totalizing climax of the book, the utter and only reality wherein everything else is pushed to the side or back, as excess or build up. What do we do when we do everything we can to survive and what is killing us still comes anyways? What is Bone’s response? And why do I love it so much? 

LET ME DIE BUT LET ME KILL HIM.

In this moment, Bone no longer cares about living, about all she has compartmentalized in order to survive. In this moment, her anger is condensed to the singular point of explosion. And explode it does; abjection to the most extreme, all the anger and shame and self-loathing that can no longer be contained, cannot be thought or invented away. No longer is she trying to escape death, no longer is she trying to survive it; there is no door at the end of her suffering, nothing to be mined from her rage. It is the affect of the murderess, in its purest, most desperate form. Why does this anger feel more---or equally so---valuable as Bone’s stories of survival? Why does it matter that her rage is not a vector of livability--but instead--is a dance with (unafraid of) death? She is not “killing death so that she may live” (Cixous). She is killing death to murder it, in cold blood. 

The day I finished the book, I journaled like crazy. Starting: I AM ANGRY. (apropos: everything.) I needed something to explain the rage, the rage at the rage, how at the end of the day, I feared myself, not because I feared wanting to die, but wanting to kill...and how that would probably kill me anyways. That day I hated, that in spite of everything, I am expected to desire a world (to live in it) that loathes me. Everything I am asked to do just to survive….it felt placating that morning….how I tell my little stories, and hide in my own little world...how I hold so much of it in, what is to live the secret, all the knowledge and self knowledge they will never know, how one day I’ll kill them for it, but it also makes me cry, because they don’t know, they don’t, and I try with language to make them understand, because they have to, they have to understand, and the tenderness boils down because all they see is anger, they don’t know how soft I want to be, how I want to hold them, their world in my hands, make them tea and wipe their face….and so maybe the hate is self-hatred (light always refracts back), because in spite of it all I do desire the world, but sometimes the shame is too much, a refueling to the anger, and I want to live in a way that it is not necessary to survive. I do not want to have to kill death so that I may live, I want the conditions of this world to have already done so for me. So I regress. I AM ANGRY. (apropos: survival.)

What is this rage condensed to the point of explosion? For the radical lesbians it was….lesbianism. It was disidentification with the male structure, the creation of a new center; a way to fashion ourselves in relation to ourselves. For the radical lesbians, anger was needed to create and recreate themselves and the world in their own image. For Bone, what was her anger condensed to the point of explosion? At first take, it was a homicidiality that shook off shame, that shook off the self-blame, the self-hate, the scared hiding from everything, yourself, doing anything you can to make it through or out. But in another, larger sense, her rage exploded! is an affect too messy to be compartmentalized, an outpouring that rejects all analyzation or logicity. After all---she has spent the entirety of the book trying to live, why the sudden shift? The no longer needing to hide? To protect? The messiness of rage, how it does quite literally explode! out from and under the excesses of the attempts to compartmentalize her life, is, in many ways, what allows her to survive--and to go beyond survival; to live. The space given to externalize what it is (to live the secret), the inherent unintelligibility of rage & shame (the sadness of remaining tender through it all), is perhaps exactly what allowed her to create and recreate----to hold---herself and all the realities she existed within. Embracing the dissolution of how we compartmentalize our lives in order to survive, the falling (forever/ever) of the dance with death; in the end what allows her to live is this: the no longer needing to. 

Bone’s anger saves her in that it sets her free. In that freedom is this: falling, forever. Her rage is categorically and inherently different than Shannon’s, whose spite, literally, consumes her alive. Bone’s anger does not come from spite or hatred; she does not hate living, she just hates the conditions of her life. Being angry at the world does not mean you are an angry person. She had so much tenderness, a softness that she was never able to see or be seen as, a constant mis/recognition from the world. But, what remains fundamental to Bone’s core, is that all her affects come from a desire to be in the world---a belief in it and wanting to live in it. A desire, furthermore, to be with others in it, to be Bone, a Boatwright woman, standing together, softly, proud. Her anger, then, signals her desire for something more, a different rhythm of being (with). Bone’s words strike like Herko’s leap from the window, a suicidality whose incomprehensibility opened a door, showing us, that there was more, always, there is more, in our infinite ability to recreate the conditions of the world: renewal was his suicide note: that there is more. 

Shannon’s contempt at the world comes from an entirely different affect, one of retribution, a desire to flip the world rather than explode! it. While Shannon’s loneliness screams of contemptuous revenge, domination, retribution , Bone’s loneliness comes from a desire to not be so; a desire for a new form of relationality. Because Bone’s anger signals to this other, this elsewhere, her anger is able to be performed as a gesture, in the way that it becomes externalized, making a tool of it, one she can extend and create as her own: her sharp killing hook. The uses of her anger can be to plunder (yes) and kill (yes), but it also can be to signal, to open, to re-orient, the same ways that her stories do, redirecting us to other fractals of truth. Through mobilizing her rage outward, Bone is able to save herself, no longer holding it in, stewing and constricting, making you so angry at the world and everyone in it until the world turns around and burns you alive. There’s a bravery to Bone, that despite everything, her body/self remains open, always. 

And so what do you do with that? The desire to remain in the world, a porous softness you refuse to give up…?....You have to find a way to recast your desire to live as  the desire for a new world (so that you may live). Even if it kills you (the leap!), we take it, we must, because there is nothing else to be done, nothing at all. And we learn from those who died, who took the jump. About the incomprehensibility of letting go, of grasping on to all the things that can’t be explained away. How can anyone explain (sexual) need? How does anyone explain shame? The things that cycle in, under the self, the need that begets only more desperate need. This is what Bone’s rage teaches us, and all that’s left to ask is: what’s to be done with that?

In the end, what I feel is deep tenderness, what is to live the secret, or dare I say, the wound, how bleeding and profuse it all is. In the end, I want to find Bone, all the Boatwright women, send out gestures across the world: telling them to come find me, telling them I want to hold it (the wound) with (through) them. And what will the gesture be? A leap out the window, a scream at the man sitting atop me, blocking out all the sunlight, a plunder, a kill, a performance of all my profound loneliness as our politic of being together. In the end---I feel the weight of everything that I must cut through in order to live, and I write to the women who feel it too. In the end, that’s what Bone did for me; showed me how to kill death so that I may live. And in the end, she did not kill Daddy Glen. In the end she did not erase the truth of the violence he enacted on her body. But in the end, she killed death….and in the end, more so than survive, she learned how to live… 

Tonight, again, I’ll sit in my room, thinking of all the crazy HAG women and what we must do. Tonight, I sit in my room, sharpening my killing hook.

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Consequences: Chapter 8

Synopsis: Two people from two different worlds, two complete strangers come together for a night of solace from their moment of anger and hurt. By consequence, they were brought together and their fates intertwined. What will happen when the reality of the one night’s actions filled with lust and anger will hit them both? What will happen with two complete strangers who seem to have nothing in common? Or do they have more in common than they thought?

Words: 2869

Authors notes: Some chapters maybe NSFW or have a mature content. Also English isn'’ my native language so sorry for any mistakes I make.

Beckett x TE MC (Maeve)

**Warnings: no warnings**

“I... I need to go,” Maeve stuttered, breaking the silence first when the loud knock on the door thundered through the empty house steeped in the darkness once again. “It's probably Shreya came to start preparing for a party,” she sighed, sliding from the window seat to the ground, revealing to Beckett what she was wearing, taking his breath away. His gaze involuntarily slid along her long bare legs that were hugged by a short jeans shorts with a top that was revealing the midsection of her flat belly.

“Yes.... umm, sure. See you around then,” he croaked, feeling how his throat dried out, his eyes followed Maeve not able to tear his gaze away until she disappeared from view.

He groaned audibly, falling back on the mattress and closing his eyes. His heart thundering inside his chest and his hectic thoughts buzzed as if the hive of bees inside his head, louder than ever before as if trying to drown out the weak voice of reason trying to break through to him.

Way to go to keep your distance... groaned Beckett. Why don’t invite her on the date or just into your room for another round of irresponsible sex? Why don’t you? he thought, gritting his teeth firmer. He felt how his dick still throbbed inside his pants, twitching from the simple thought of her, making him even angrier from the fact that he had so little control over his own body when it came to her. His features hardened from the anger boiling inside him, from the realization that no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts came to her.

Through his thoughts, he could still hear faint voices sounding from the hall and footsteps approaching their living room. He could feel how the mattress near to him dipped, and he could feel the person laying down next to him. Without opening his eyes he knew who this was, he just wasn’t in the mood for a talk, wanting to be left alone to think clearly, and to make sure that whatever happening between him and Maeve would stop. He didn’t need her, he has no time for any distractions, and he doesn’t want a repeat of their night together. He is Harrington after all, and no matter the costs or how the relation to that family makes him feel, he cannot trust anyone, and he can push people away. He has done this in the past, so he can do it again. He sighed heavily, the single thought shoot through his mind. The thought that surprised him, the thought that made his heart skip a beat.

I need to keep my distance to keep her safe from my family... my mother.

“Are you okay,” Zeph asked, his voice laced with concern breaking through so much welcomed quietness.

“I’m fine,” Beckett answered in a bleak voice, trying still to push the last thought away.

“So what happened between you two,” Zeph asked nonchalantly, waiting for a reply. But it seemed that Beckett will just ignore the question, letting it hanging between them.

“Nothing...,” Beckett finally replied, letting the word slip from his lips. His eyes still closed not wanting to move from the spot.

“Okay,” Zeph said, letting go this time, feeling that something did happen, but not wanting to press further, waiting for him to speak... if he will want to.

With the heavy sigh and after a minute that seemed lasted forever Beckett finally broke the silence.

“I... I almost ki...” his words was cut off by the clicking of Shreya’s stilettos approaching them.

“Come on guys,” she exclaimed, entering the common room and switching all the lights on, making both guys flinch from the amount of bright light hitting their eyes.

“What the hell?” Beckett growled, narrowing his eyes.

“We don’t have time for slacking, so both of you go from lying down to helping.”

“Hey,” Beckett outraged. “I did agree on that party, but it was nothing about helping you to get it ready.”

“I’m not listening,” Shreya singsonged before leaving the room, shouting to them their assignments. “Zephyr-drinks. Beckett helps Maeve with lights and then music. We need to start this party going before everyone arrives.”

“Don’t hear you moving,” she cried out before joining Griffin.

Reluctantly Beckett got from the window seat, still dumbfounded that Shreya expected him to do anything to help. After muttering that he is not going to fulfill all the whims of some girl he barely knows, he finally entered the hallway. His eyes landing on Maeve, who was already climbing up the ladder to fix fairy lights and his legs as if under the spell moved toward her.

“What are you doing?” he muttered, his hands stabilizing the ladder that started to tremble slightly, when Maeve got on a top, his eyes raised to her.

“If you didn’t notice yet, I’m fixing the fairy lights, making that place magical and to avoid the need for switching on the main lights,” Maeve giggled, finally finishing with this side of the house before getting down with Beckett’s help, and moving to the room they never used before. “Anyway, the main question is what are you doing here, and what with all the helping?” Maeve asked, opening the door that was always closed before as they never had the need to use it. The room was empty from furniture and big enough for the party to be carried here with long windows along the walls.

“Your friend somehow managed to get me involved in that. Honestly, I still have no idea how. But I guess she is right, and that job is for two to do, if not me you would probably be buried under that ladder,” he shrugged, taking fairy lights from Maeve’s hands. His voice echoed through the empty room. “Let’s me do that,” he said, starting to climb up the ladder that Maeve opened near to the closest wall. With some help and instructions from Maeve, they finally finished with all the lights, hiding the ladder back under the stairs.

“Done,” Maeve exclaimed happily before meeting Beckett's furrowed gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Your friend also said something about music... I have no idea what she wants from me...,” he groaned. “Maybe... if you don’t mind of course. Can you... can you help me with that task? I literally have no idea what she wants from me.”

“Sure, but it’s the easiest task of all... you simply need to pick up stereo system from her car. I can bet anything on it that this stereo already has a microSD card with all the music tracks she loves. Do you really thought she will let you pick the music?” Maeve laughed softly before walking outside with Beckett, watching him taking out stereo, and bringing it to the room they just decorated with lights, placing it in the furthest corner of the room and turning it on.

The loud disco music filled the room making Beckett cringe lowering the volume before Shreya shushed him off from the stereo returning volume to the full. When everything was ready, party guests started to fill the house, making it too crowded and loud.

Beckett looked around in a futile attempt to find his friend in the crowd of dancing bodies full of determination to leave the party until his eyes landed on the girl and a guy whose bodies moved in perfect sync with sultry music. Guy’s hands placed firmly on the girl’s hips, his lips hovering close to her ear, whispering something, making the girl throw her head back laughing. Her golden hairs flowed over her bare shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with happiness. As if bewitched, Beckett looked at Maeve, unable to take his eyes off her. His gaze, wandering down her body, noticing that she was still wearing the same jeans shorts opting for the different strapless top that was still revealing her flat belly. His breath hitched, and he tried to look away shaking off the feeling of anger rising inside him. The flash of memory of their almost kiss just an hour ago sparkled in front of his eyes, but he stubbornly shook it off. He could see Maeve whispering something to the guy she was dancing with before leaving him alone on the dance floor and moving to the tables with drinks. His brows furrowed, and he abruptly turned around, marching to the door when another guy approached Maeve in a moment, placing his hand on her lower back.

He angrily almost run up the stairs when a familiar voice stopped him.

“Already leaving?” Zeph asked, leaning on the wall, his eyes fixed on Beckett, the red cup in his hand.

“I hoped no one will notice...,” he sighed, turning back to face his friend, his cheeks flushed and hair disheveled. “Zeph, you know I don’t do parties, I feel more comfortable with a book in my hand than doing that... too loud music and voices as if everyone tries to outshout each other and the music...”

“Is it so? Or probably someone got extremely jealous and angry when he has seen the girl he likes surrounded by a lot of guys actually ready to pay her any attention, opposite to someone who only ogling her from afar with his eyes?”

“I’ll better go before something will happen, if you didn’t forget last time didn’t end very well after I agreed to go with you to the party.”

“Ohhhhh yes... you ended up in bed with the same girl you starting to like now...”

“As far as I remember last time after I told you that I slept with her, you slapped me on the back of my head... And now... what you even implying. Also so you know I don’t LIK...” tried to object Beckett when the door flung open and Maeve exited the room. Her eyes sparkling with lightning, marching angrily toward the stairs before getting pulled back by the guy Beckett seen earlier. His body almost pressing her to the wall, and he could hear Maeve’s raised voice, taking a step down the stairs still hidden from Maeve by the wall.

“Let... me... GO...,” hissed Maeve loudly, pushing the guy away from her.

“Come on, baby... you know you have missed me,” he murmured in a low drunken voice, his breath hot against her skin, and she could feel the nauseous feeling raising from the bottom of her stomach from the sickening smell of his breath. “Stop fighting that just because you got a little bit jealous of other girls I’m having. You know I have a high sex drive, don’t be so selfish baby... you know I have my needs that need to be fulfilled, but I can make you feel really... really good if you let me. You know baby, that you will never find a better lover than me, who would make you purr like a real kitten,” he mumbled, his lips moving lower, while she tried to push him again unsuccessfully. Beckett’s body tensed, and his hands curled into fists, not noticing how Zeph quietly disappeared back to the party, leaving him behind to be an accidental witness to the scene unfolding in front of him.

Beckett stood silently fighting with himself, his eyes not moving from Maeve and the guy he didn’t know. Fighting the urge to yank the guy off, not liking the shortening distance between them.

“Oh my god...,” she laughed harshly before the laugh died abruptly, her eyes dark with fury. “You really think you are a better lover I ever can get? Guess what? You never even get me off, and the only time I climaxed wasn't even with you, but with some stranger, I even didn’t know so why would I want to be your lover if I will need to imitate orgasms again???” she started to moan exaggeratedly. Not the same maddening sounds she made with Beckett that made him want to go on and on if only they wouldn’t be so drunk. If only it wouldn’t be a mistake... if only we would meet under different circumstances. He thought, trying to push this thought away not liking where it may lead, his eyes still fixed on the couple, watching how Maeve’s imitation of orgasm stopped abruptly. He could see the guy's grip hardened on her making her gasp, the pained expression shoot through her eyes just for a second before she tried to push him away.

“I guess, someone needs a reminder of how good I can make you feel,” groaned Justin pressing himself closer to her, his hand moving under her top, trying to yank it off, not noticing a figure quickly approaching them.

“LET... ME... GO,” shouted Maeve, fighting against her ex-boyfriend, biting his hand that was holding hers, letting her go immediately with a hiss.

“You... BITCH,” he hissed with pain when he felt Maeve’s teeth digging into the flesh of his other hand that held hers. He raised his hand ready for it to connect with her cheek, but the moment he has done it he felt an iron grip holding it still, feeling another hand grabbing him by the back of his shirt yanking him off Maeve.

“I wouldn't do this if I would be you or you will have to deal with me,” growled Beckett, narrowing his eyes, standing between Maeve and her ex, protectively covering her from the guy. His heart thumping loudly inside his chest, while his hand found hers instinctively, feeling how it was still trembling.

“Who the hell are you?“

“I’m her boyfriend,” lied Beckett, feeling how his heart skipped a beat not sure why he would say this.

“Really? I didn’t see you near her for a whole evening...,” snorted Justin, looking square Beckett in the eyes.

“Probably, because unlike you, I trust my girlfriend and don’t need to be near her all the time. I know she can handle the jerks like you,” said Beckett, feeling like a slight blush crept up his neck, reaching his cheeks, thankful for the darkness for hiding it.

“I don’t believe you...,” hissed Justin, taking a step forward. “She would never choose anyone like you. Kitten, you know you can do much better than him, stop that farce, and let’s move to your bedroom,” said he, trying to walk around Beckett just to be pushed away by him.

“Okay...,” Justin growled. “If you are her boyfriend... prove it... kiss her,” smirked he, folding his arms, noticing a moment of hesitation in Beckett’s eyes, but before he could say anything Beckett abruptly turned to face Maeve, pushing her gently against the wall. His eyes looking deep into hers, asking for permission while his face lowered toward hers. His heart skipped a beat when she nods her head hesitantly, and his lips crashed on hers, without a moment of delay, moaning slightly when their lips finally met. He kissed her hungrily savoring the sweet taste of her, one hand placed on her lower back, while another ran up her back, cupping the back of her head. His fingers were woven into her hair and their bodies pressed firmer, his tongue ran lightly along the seam of her lips, asking for access, both moaning in unison. Maeve’s hands grubbed the front of Beckett’s shirt, pulling him closer as if holding for the dear life. Their tongues swirling around each other, deepening the kiss, feeling the mutual desire and arousal radiating from both of them. It seemed that the world died around them, the sounds muffled, and the lights dimmed, leaving only two of them wrapped in the moment of passion before the harsh coughing brought them to reality, making them break apart. Their eyes still clouded and breath heavy, their foreheads pressed together, and their lips just an inches apart.

“You should watch your girlfriend closer, or someone may steal her, right under your nose,” Justin growled, taking both by surprise, squeezing Maeve’s hand firmly and yanking her closer to him turning her away from Beckett while his heavy alcohol-intoxicated breath hit her in the face, making her feel sick to the pit of her stomach. “It’s not over,” he hissed in a low whisper, starting to walk away, but before he could leave, Maeve bent over, emptying her stomach content straight on his shoes.

“You fucking BI...,” Justin started, raising his hand to slap Maeve across her face but before he could, he felt Beckett’s fist connecting with his nose with a sickening sound. He cursed loudly, clutching his nose, before leaving Beckett and Maeve finally alone, the string of profanities still ringing through the hall before the door slammed shut after Justin.

Beckett silently stepped closer to Maeve placing his hand over her shoulder, feeling how her body shaken slightly as if it was shivering from cold. He gently turned her to face him, watching how her wide-opened eyes filled with tears, her lips trembled, and she gasped for air clasping her hands over her heaving chest. “Are you okay,” Beckett asked finally after a moment of the silence, feeling how concern for Maeve started to rise inside him. “Sorry for overstepping,” he whispered hoarsely, the taste of her still haunted him, lingering on his lips. “I... I shouldn’t,” he said.

“It’s... it’s okay... I just... I need... I need fresh air,” Maeve gasped, feeling the difficultly to breathe, feeling how her vision became blurry, and another rush of nausea approached her. Suddenly, Maeve felt how the earth started to go under her feet, her vision went black, and the air became heavy, making it so difficult to breathe. But before her body could hit the ground, she felt a pair of strong hands caught her, and the last thing she remembered before surrender to darkness was Beckett’s strong hands wrapping around her, and his worried voice calling her name.

Tags:  

@fluffy-marshmallow-heart​​ @annekebbphotography​ @thequeenofcronuts @symonde @lapisreviewsstuff @madampugzalot @emichelle @lilyofchoices @msjpuddleduck @feartheendlesssummer @catlady0911 @the-soot-sprite @i-bloody-love-drake-walker  @xxrainbow-princessxx @cordoniasmost @tuesdays-are-for-bobby @laragazzaconunsogno @desireepow-1986

[reeree1500]

The Return- Part 9

Disclaimer: Im so sorry for keeping you guys waiting, but Ive been trying to figure out my new schedule and had literally no time to write anything down 😬 This part contains lots of angst and honestly I don't feel like its the best🤣 I want to thank y'all for all the love and support💕☺️And forgive me in advance for this is 100% gonna be utter shit😭🙏🏽 So don't kill me😅

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10

Taglist: @yanii-the-hippie @oceans-daughter-3 @peaceisadirtyword @laketaj24 @camatsuru @youbloodymadgenius @calum-hoodwinked-me @cutegyrl927 @wuxiesalt @readsalot73 @cindy-exo @amy8220 @affection-rabbit @mel0nch0ly @queenofallthyfandoms @limbo-limbo-limbo @ragnarssonsbitch @supernaturalvikingwhore @ifihadwings128 @paintballkid711 @jenny-the-lover @funmadnessandbadassvikings  @blonddnamedhandz @hallowed-heathen @pinkrockstar19 

- Sorry if I missed any of you💕 Lemme know if you want to be tagged. Also requests are open, and I’ve got a ton of them to do and finish. Hopefully Ill be able to post them soon enough

Warnings: Angst, Violence, bad grammar + spelling.😂

Your POV

“My wife...” At Ivar’s words you had felt as if your heart had been ripped out of your chest, crumpled, and stomped on by him right in front of you. You just looked at the blonde beauty and thought about how perfect she was and how you could have never compared to her. “(Y/n), are you alright? You seem pale and quite unwell.” Freydis says to you with what would seem as genuine concern in her eyes. Your mind was at a loss for words, something that did not happen often to you anymore. You didn't know whether it could've been out fo jealousy or if out of shock and what seemed like a flare of anger rising in you. “Just a little light headed, that's all. Anyways, are you alright if we go up to the castle now? Or are there anymore people on the ship?” You say through gritted teeth and a fake smile on your face. Freydis exchanges a look with Ivar and he then turns to you with a smile on his face nodding. As the three of you turn to walk towards the hill leading to the castle, you noticed how Freydis gushed over Ivar in front of you. Occasionally she would turn and pretend to admire her surroundings and meet your eyes trying to show off. You promised yourself that for the love of your siblings and family that you would go along with the facade and pretend as if you didn't want to kill her every time she clung onto him like that. But it was proving much harder than you had initially thought. “Freydis, I would like a moment to talk to (y/n). You can continue making your way to the castle with a few of my men, just be careful love.” You heard Ivar say to her as his lips grazed hers. 

Why had you been so jealous? You were happily married now to Arthur and had 2 beautiful children by him. As you would not let yourself think otherwise as to who the possibility of who the father could be. Not paying attention to Ivar or his “wife” you kept looking out towards the gardens and the townspeople. Your body is then whisked around rapidly by your so called “brother” and you come face to face for the first time in 4 years. “Why?” “Why what Ivar?” You say rolling your eyes at him trying to avoid this touchy subject. “You know exactly what!” He says pulling you off to the side and out of hearing range of anyone around. “How could you keep my children away from me!” 

Ivar says as his grips tightens on your arms, surely to leave a bruise. Back then you would have cowered with fear at his tone of voice. But now you were a queen and Arthur had made you realize that no one not even himself could ever trample over you again! “First of all, you are not the king here and you DO NOT! Call the shots!” You say gripping his hand and forcing it to unclasp your arm. “Secondly, my children have a father and his name is Arthur Pendragon. The King of this land and I am his queen and I will not have you disrespect him with such blasphemous words leaving your mouth!” You say to him, with as much venom as you could muster laced into your words. His eyes showed shock and admiration in them. Surely in his mind he thought about how much you had changed and how the once scared girl that graced the land of Kattegat was now gone. Ivar knew the answer to his question though. You could not bare to let him in on the fact that you had bared him children, it would have placed everyone you cared for in the danger you had placed so far away from you. Not waiting for him to answer and get his words together you turn around and leave him behind in the dust. Walking away you felt empowered and for the first time like you had the control over him and it felt good.

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

Making your way through the halls of the castle you finally reach the hall to see everybody gathered and chatting with each other. Marjorie notices you enter and springs quickly from Arthur’s lap and makes a bee line for your arms. “Mama! You're just in time, Uncle Bjorn is telling us stories of when you were my age. Frankly you were quite boring, but it’s okay you’ve gotten a wee bit more fun!”  She said as she clung around your neck. This child you say as you internally roll your eyes. She could always leave a whole room without words in seconds. But it was a quality that you were quite fond of. Carrying Marjorie in your arms you made your way towards Arthur and sat beside him. Marjorie then jumps from your arms to Arthurs lap and starts to play with the buttons on his jacket. Marjorie adored her father and it was evident to everyone who would look their way. Especially Ivar who sulked and gritted his teeth every time his eyes laid on her playing with Arthur. 

Arthur lived to serve our children, but Marjorie was his mini-me. However, Erik was all mine. At that I call Erik away from the candies I know that he so desperately wants to eat, but that I will not let him. This boy is hyper enough as it is and I cannot handle so much excitement and emotions today. His little eyes turn to me pleading for a small bite of the sweets that are bestowed upon him. However, I am firm in my decision and although disappointed he makes his way to me with a huge smile on his face and his arms outstretched. Holding him in my arms I cannot resist, but spin him around as we both giggle and fall to the floor in a fit of laughter. “You're an exceptional mother (y/n), I always knew you would be.” Bjorn says whilst looking toward me with tears brimming in his eyes. “I feel incredibly proud of you for pushing past all the horrible things that have been placed in front of you and you coming out on top.” At that tears begin to form in mine. “Ok, Ok. No more crying. I feel as if there has been enough of that in our lives to last us the rest of them.” Hvitserk says whilst laughing. At his comment everyone laughs and that is when Sara enters the hall. “Your highness it is time for their majesties’ lessons.” She says whilst bowing her head. At that Erik and Marjorie stand up and rush towards her. They loved Sara and treated her as if she were their older sister. In fact she was Mira’s younger sister who was sent to me by Gisela when she found out about my pregnancy. I could not have asked for a better tutor for my children. Saying my goodbyes to them I turn to walk towards my husband, but come to notice a certain look on a certain bear like man. Bjorn’s eyes hold an astonished look of admiration and adoration. The look of a man who's been taken to heaven and does not wish to come back. 

Arthur taps my knee to grab my attention, but he notices what Ive just witnessed and a smirk is displayed on his face. “It seems that our little Sara has caught your interest, Bjorn?” Arthur says playfully to him. “Yes, it appears to be so. Ive never met such a beautiful woman in my life.” Bjorn says still in what seems to be a trans like state of some kind. “Bjorn, surely you’ve met more beautiful women than a simple tutor and maid, have you not?” Freydis says from Ivar’s side. Her comments made by blood boil, which Arthur noticed and took quick action against. He placed his arms around my shoulders and whispered sweet nothings into my ears. He then lays one of his hands on my lap, to then which I place my hands on his, holding him ever close to us.

The way she caresses his hair and the way she positions herself beside him is bothersome to me. It goes to show that Freydis is a woman that will do anything to keep him, even if that a means worshipping him like a God. Trying to lighten the mood and ease the tension that quickly seems to be building up. Arthur asks about Kattegat and how it has been since we left. What we didn't know was that at this very moment just a few feet away was the person who would bring about sorrow and grief everywhere they went. Especially to me.

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

Bjorn’s POV

When Arthur asked about the current state of Kattegat, my hands balled into fists. Not by his question, but because the ruin of Kattegat had come with us to England. “Well, it could be better, but I will not ruin our visit with such an ill subject.” I reply in a tone in which everyone understands that the subject matter at hand should not be one to be discussed. At the moment (y/n) decides to turn the attention upon Ivar and his new wife. It was obvious that she was hurt by it, however knowing my sister she would never admit that to a soul. She was moodier then I could remember her being, but it could just be the fact that people in England are moodier then everyone. “When and how did this come about, and why had we not heard sooner about this union Ivar. Where you hiding your wife from me? Or did you simply want to take us by surprise when you brought your whore to a place where my children reside? Huh!” (Y/n) says while she stands up, rage very much evident in her eyes. 

At that the room became silent and servants who seemed shocked and outright astonished by the fact that (y/n) was behaving this way. Arthur stood up from his throne and pulled her body into his as a way to try to calm her down, but we knew that it would not be so easy. “Control yourself (y/n), please. This is not good for you and you know it. The doctor said you should rest and not become stressed. Please I beg of you, listen to me and stand down.” Arthur whispers into her ear. After what seems like ages (y/n) looks down and Arthur softens his hold on her. A quiet Im sorry leaves her lips and she walks out of the room towards what seems to be her quarters. I would have to check up on her, this was very unsalted behaviour for her and it worried me.

 Arthur clears his throat and asks the servants to shows us to our rooms, but not before asking Ivar to stay behind. “Ivar, please stay. I would like to have a word with you and apologize for my wife’s behaviour towards you both.” As everyone moves Freydis seems to stay in her place by Ivar’s side. Obviously not getting the fact that she was not part of the conversation that was to be had. “Alone.” Arthur says while facing the window and his back to them. Something that I knew bothered Ivar very much...Authority and power which he could do nothing about. 

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

Arthur’s POV

“So, what is it that you wanted to speak to me about, besides your wife’s ridiculous outburst?...Your majesty.” Ivar says through gritted teeth. Turning around I keep my face stoic as ever, however all I wanted was to punch this man in the face for all the pain and suffering he had not only caused my wife, but her people as well. I had heard of Ivar’s actions against his people from my spies in Kattegat and from Bjorn himself. I knew that the once respect that I held for this man had gone out the window the moment he started burning everyone who opposed him. “Come, I wish to show you something out on the balcony.” I say to him as I walk without waiting for his reply. I can feel his eyes burning holes into my skull, but I care not for this as I have more pressing matters at hand. 

Stepping out onto the balcony I look over the lands that had been bestowed upon me by my father. “These lands, were given to me by my father, who which in turn got them from his father, and so on. One day when (y/n) and I are gone these lands shall go to Erik or Marjorie... Our children.” In this moment Ivar scoffs and I could see him roll his eyes at me. “Your children? We both know who damn well! Fathered those children Arthur! It wouldn't take much to see the resemblance between us!” He yells at my direction. “I invited you to my home so that my wife would be able to see her family once again away from the dangers of Kattegat! But I now see that it was a mistake to invite you here. Erik and Marjorie are not and will never be yours! And on top of that you come with a “wife” who's sole purpose of your marriage was to get your mind off of my wife! MY WIFE! Whom shall never be yours!” I yell at him as my patience wears thin. Unable to hold back the anger and resentment I feel towards him anymore, I grab him by the collar and push him towards the railing. Grabbing him so that he may not fall, but just enough to try and scare him. 

However, I underestimated him and feel my footing quickly fall from beneath me. Ivar then lunges himself on top of me and begins to throw punches left and right. I dodge and fight back as much as I can, but he is able to get a couple of punches in. Spotting an opportunity I quickly flip us over and start punching him for everything he has done. At this point I see red and fear that there will be nothing to stop me from killing him. Except my wife. “Arthur! Let him go! What are you doing!” She says as she runs towards us. In that moment I forgot about ivar and stared at my wife, but it only took a second for Ivar to kick me and cause me to crash against the railing itself. “Ugh!” Before I could lunge myself at him (y/n) threw herself in front of him. And I stopped dead in my tracks. How could I have been so foolish to think that she could have ever loved me back. To think that we could have actually had something. NO! She will always choose him, she will always choose Ivar. 

Your POV

I couldn't let them go on. I couldn’t let my husband kill the man that I once loved. No matter how much he deserved it, but Arthur didn't understand that. He didn't understand that I had put Ivar behind me and that now all I wanted and all I needed was him. Arthur looked like as if his world had been flipped upside down and like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, by me. Shaking his head he looks down and heads inside. Not before stopping and turning around to face Ivar one last time. “If you ever utter the words that Erik and Marjorie are yours, I will not hesitate to kill you on the spot. Im done showing mercy and being the fool.” And with that he walks inside bloodied and leaving me astonished. “(y/n), I...” “Shut up! Just shut up! How dare you! Did I not warn you that something like this would happen! You need to stop Ivar, Erik and Marjorie are not yours and will never be! Arthur has been the father that they need and deserve. You on the contrary will never be their father, because all you do is bring me pain!” I yell at him through the tears that fall down my face like a cascade. 

“How could I have proven to you that I could be great father, when you didn't even give me a chance! I gave you a way out of the situation you were in! I told you that we could have run away together and lived together as a family away from it all. But you! You decided that I wasn't good enough for you!” He says standing up from the ground cradling his side, obviously showing that Arthur had got in a good punch or two. “I couldnt have and you know it! Floki he...” I begin to say before I stop myself and think about that night. “What! What did he say to you (y/n)! What lies are you gonna spew out about the only man that has ever cared for me my entire life!” He says getting extremely close to me, his eyes showing hints of a side to him that I had never come across but had heard from the gossip and read from the letters Bjorn sent to Arthur. “Your precious Floki threatened me with your life and that of everyone who is close to me, if I didn't leave Kattegat! So yes! Blame me Ivar for being so selfish that I placed your life and the lives of everyone I cared about before my own!” With that I left Ivar standing there in the balcony by himself, just like I had left him that night 4 years ago.

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

1 month ago...

“What do you need of me, my queen?” Freydis said to Aslaug. “Ivar and his brothers shall be visiting England fairly soon and I will need you to be my eyes and ears into everything that occurs there. I wish to know exactly what (y/n) and her husband have been up to, I hear that their union had been blessed with children. Find out more about them and if you ever get a chance, take this.” Aslaug says as she pull out a vial. “This will ensure your reign as Queen of Kattegat and will finally put an end to that Christian child. I do not care of she's miles away, while she breathes Ivar will never be yours. And he will never grow to be the man that I wish him to be.” Aslaug says with a cold heart and an even colder face. “But, she's of no danger to me. Ivar is mine and he always will be, its been fated by the gods themselves.” Freydis says giving the vile back. In that moment Floki comes out from the shadows. “I have lost all whom I care about, because of (y/n). Ragnar, Bjorn, Ivar and Helga have all turned their back on me because of her. I was forced to kill my own wife because of what she did in order to save this child. And you too will lose, if you do not comply with our demands.” He says whilst placing the vial back into Freydis’ palm. “You must do this if not for us, then for Ivar and all of the gods.” 

“I will...”

[winchest09]

Shatter Me - Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4439

Summary: The Winchesters were your world. After joining their hunter ranks, you quickly became attached to the brothers. After a successful hunt, you insist on going out celebrating with the boys – only for a loose end to catch up with you. You’re trapped in a world without hunger, thirst and the Winchesters. With the brothers beside themselves, they make preparations to say goodbye until Dean starts to connect to you through his dreams. Little do they know that you’re much closer than they think…

Chapter warnings: 18+ angst, lot of angst, a few swears, mentions of death and grief. 

A/N: We’re getting closer and closer to the end! Three chapters left! I cannot wait for you guys to see what’s to come but i’ll just keep my lips sealed for now haha. Thank you to everyone who reads, and reblogs. You guys are the best <3

Also, look out for a teaser for my new Dean x Reader upcoming fiction in the next chapter, i’ll be linking it n the notes :) 

—

If you do read, please, please let me know your thoughts! Reblogs and shares mean the world. Feedback is fuel for writers, it sets a fire under our asses to churn out more for you lovely lot :)

Love all of you guys <3

(Please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :) x)

Shatter Me Masterlist  

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

With a stiff neck, Dean awoke on the couch in the library only to find it empty. The tables laden with books and lore but the chairs were bare of bodies. Groaning slightly, Dean sat up and rubbed at the base of his skull, trying to ease his tension. The images of you in pain flashed through his mind. The way your skin cracked, the way your screams pieced his ears; he never wanted to see you in that much pain ever again.

He jolted from his seat, rushing his way through the library, past the kitchen with the intent of getting to his room. He didn’t even question why the library was empty, his mind wasn’t on the likes of his brother, the witch or the angel. His mind was only on you and the damn snow globe that was your prison. His mind on you and his gaze to the floor, his shoulder collided with a body that made him grunt to a halt. The body of his younger brother.

“Dean! I-it’s Y/N, she’s-”

“-yeah I know Sam, I saw it happen,” Dean somewhat snapped, pushing past Sam to get to his room, “we need to get her out, now!” He barked, forcefully opening his door causing it to bounce of the wall. Sam followed, holding out his hand to keep Dean’s door open.

“But we don’t know where she is,” he said as more of a statement than a question, his brow creasing as he watched his brother march to the other side of his bed.

“Yeah, we do,” Dean corrected as he made his way to the snow globe that was perched on his bed side table. The globe seemed almost luminous in the darkness, a faint blue hue emitting from it, the same blue hue that appeared when you got trapped in there the first time.

Dean hesitantly picked up the globe, in fear of breaking it. He did as you suggested, he scanned the globe and sure enough, there were cracks surrounding the glass at the base. Thick, deep cracks edged into the globe and Dean felt himself vibrate with anger. All this time, you’d been right next to where he’d been sleeping. How did he not know? How did he not see it?

“Son of a bitch, it’s been here, she’s been here, all along.” Dean’s eyes shot over towards his little brothers, Sam’s expression mirroring his own. Shock, relief, worry. Dean held the globe at the base as he gingerly made his way around to his bedroom door. Sam’s eyes were trained on the globe, he himself not believing that you had been under their nose this entire time.

“So how do we get her out?” Sam questioned, shutting Deans bedroom door behind him as he followed him into the corridor.

“That’s what we’ve got to figure out,” he mumbled as he continued to stare into the globe. He didn’t know what he was looking for, he didn’t know if he would be able to see you actually in there or not but somehow, he couldn’t look away.

Both brothers made their way to your room where you were currently being monitored and looked after by both Rowena and Castiel. When the curse took a hold of you, and hastened its progress, they both rushed to your bedside. Castiel did his best to use his grace to try and slow it down whilst Rowena was using all manner of spells to keep you healthy but it was proving to be a hard job. Nothing was touching it. Nothing was stopping it. You were deteriorating minute by minute, from the curse and from malnutrition.

As Dean entered your room, he wasn’t prepared for what he saw. Your body seemed more lifeless than it was before, if that was possible. You were pale, your skin greying, the cracks marking your skin. He placed the globe on the side, quickly and gently, in fear that he might drop it with the emotions that he was feeling. Sam joined Dean’s side and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as Dean turned to look at you once more. He rubbed at his face, before placing his hands on his hips.

“How’s, how’s she looking?” He questioned, swallowing a lump in his throat. Dean noticed how Castiel and Rowena shared a look and he frowned, stepping forward slightly.

“Dean, I-I, it’s not good. She’s probably got 24 hours, if that” Rowena stumbled over her words, not wanting to upset the boys but unfortunately, it was inevitable. Dean’s eyes grew wide as he brought his first to his mouth, turning around and looking away. Sam’s face read panic as he moved around his brother, facing Rowena.

“24 hours?!” Sam exclaimed looking between the angel and the witch, not understanding how they had such little time left. Rowena opened her mouth to speak but she was cut off by Dean as he turned back to face the group.

“It knows we’re on to it,” he scoffed, “it’s like it’s self-aware, how can a curse be self-aware?!” Dean almost growled, his gaze zeroing in on Rowena, looking for an answer which made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

“It depends on the magic.” Was her simple reply, and it was true. It did depend on the magic. However that response only infuriated Dean. He balled his fists at his sides, his jaw ticked as his voice roared.  

“Don’t try and justify it Rowena!” He shouted, “your kind, magic and witchcraft, it’s what got her here in the first place!” He accused as he got dangerously close the witch. Rowena flinched back slightly, her hands behind her back reaching for a surface to ensure she didn’t fall.

“Dean, enough!” Castiel commanded, mirroring Dean’s stance from the other side of the bed. Dean’s expression didn’t change, his blood was boiling as he pointed towards Cas in a manner of authority.

“No! You weren’t there. You didn’t see what it did to her. You didn’t see how it literally tore her body apart when she remembered what happened, when she figured out where the hell she was,” he exclaimed, his voice laced thick with emotion. With Dean’s last admission however, Castiel’s frown weakened as he looked between Dean and Sam.  

“You know where she is?” Castiel urged, walking around to stand next to Dean, strategically trying to get him to move away from Rowena. Dean didn’t move, his stare was firmly planted on you laying still on the bed. He leant forward onto his knuckles as he lowered his head, his heart pounding in his chest. The air was tense around all of them and Sam knew that Dean could blow at any given moment, he was emotionally charged. Trying to be of comfort to his brother, Sam began to explain.

“Y/N went into the store to buy this particular snow globe the day it all went down. Look at the base of the globe, it’s covered in cracks just like…just like-”

“-she is.” Dean’s voice was low, gravelled as he cut in, “she remembered. She remembers the curse, the feeling of her soul being torn from her body, she’s remembers everything and if that witch was still alive, I would make her pay over and over again!” Dean’s voice started to elevate in volume towards the end of his sentence as he pushed himself off the bed with anger, turning his back to Rowena.

“Dean…” Sam cautioned, raising his eyebrows at him slightly, warning him to calm down. Dean nodded slightly, understanding his brother’s silent looks to tone it down and keep his cool. He ran a hand across his forehead before turning back to the redhead.

“Did you find the answer or not?” Dean pushed, his tone still sharp but his delivery low. Rowena nodded, her hands slightly jittery as she turned the pages in her journal.

“Yes, we did and now we know where the wee less is being kept, we can get her home,” she explained, her fingers brushing the ink on the paper, “we’ll just need some time to get the ingredients together.”

“DAMMIT ROWENA, WE DON’T HAVE TIME!” Dean roared, his temper exploding, his emotions flooding out of him. He batted away Rowena’s books before roughly running his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands.

“ENOUGH DEAN!” Sam interjected, grabbing onto Dean roughly and tugging him towards the doorway, “enough, come on, you can help me get some of the stuff.” He pushed Dean out of the room before sending Rowena an apologetic smile, grabbing the list of ingredients from the side table. He looked at Castiel and nodded towards the witch and Cas knew that Sam wanted him to look after her and make sure she was ok.

Sam marched Dean down the hall, heading towards storage. One of his hands on Dean’s shoulder and the other on the top of his arm, ensuring that he kept him walking in the one direction. Two pairs of footsteps echoing down the empty halls, Dean’s huffing the only other sound to be heard. Before they reached the room, Dean snapped and pulled himself forcefully from Sam’s grasp.

“Get off me Sam, you don’t get to frogmarch me out like I’m some damn kid!” He roared, shrugging his shoulders before slamming open the door to their stocked supplies. Sam just huffed himself, frowning at his brothers actions.

“Yeah, then don’t act like one!” he chided, following Dean into the room and placing the list of ingredients onto a shelf, “what the hell was all that about?!” He questioned, annoyance lacing his tone. Dean just rolled his eyes as he flicked from one item to the other, his attention not really on what he was looking for.

“You know damn well,” he grunted. Sam just allowed his frown to deepen, one hand running through his brown locks.

“No I don’t Dean,” Sam retorted, “but wait, let me guess. It’s about how much you hate witches right? Yeah we know but that does not give you the right to blow up on Rowena the way you just did. She’s here, helping us Dean. No strings.” Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his eyebrows in his hairline as he shot Dean a look. Sam knew that he was right, Dean did too as he sighed and ran a hand across his brow.

“I know, dammit, I know,” Dean almost whispered before grabbing the list of ingredients off the shelf. He took a moment to glance over it before looking back up at his brother, “but come on Sammy, Rowena’s just said Y/N has twenty four hours at most and we still have to wait around for ingredients. If I lose her, I-”

“-we won’t Dean,” Sam interrupted, taking a step close to his brother to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Hey, remember the day she came into our lives? What a ball of fire she was? Man the look on your face.” Sam laughed, he remembered the day well, and it was a fond memory for him as well as Dean. The eldest Winchester smiled fondly, a smile tugging at his lips.

“How could I forget,” Den conceded, “werewolf hunt, Idaho, about a year and a half ago”

 The house was run down, beads of water dripping from the ceiling creating an eerie atmosphere as the brothers scoped the place for their target. They were in the middle of some woodland, they had tracked a pack of werewolves to this exact spot only to be greeted with nothing but silence. The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck were standing on end as he surveyed his surroundings. A clash from the kitchen made both brothers point their guns towards that door. Dean made the signal to Sam that he was going in first to which Sam nodded. Slowly, Dean reached for the round door handle and turned it to open, pushing the door away from them.

Taking a step inside, Dean curled his nose at the smell. He almost miss the quiet shuffle to the right of him, he almost missed the 6ft werewolf that was waiting in the shadows, preparing to strike. Unfortunately for the werewolf, Dean’s reflexes were faster than he was. As he pounced, Dean swiftly moved to the left, allowing himself to come up behind the man and knocking him just hard enough with his gun to make him immobile. He also shot a silver bullet in his kneecap for good measure. Grabbing the werewolf by the collar, Dean slid him up onto a chair whilst Sam made work on binding the man’s hands. Dean bent down in front of the wolf, his green eyes scanning his face as a slight smirk sat upon his lips.

“You know what Fido, being puppy chow is not on my to do list for today,” he quipped, waving his gun around slightly as he straightened up. The werewolf just sat there, a smug smile planted on his face as he leant back in his chair.

“That’s what you think,” the wolf retorted, “you can kill me, go ahead, I’m loyal to my pack and they’ll be loyal to me,” He said with an aggressive tone to which Dean just laughed. Sam’s face remained stoic as he looked around the room, he was looking for any kind of sign as to where the rest of this werewolves’ pack could be. They had been tracking them for a couple of days, he was almost certain that this was their home.

“Loyal? They left you high and dry” Dean scoffed, waving his arms around wide to back up the fact that this wolf was alone. But the wolf just grinned, his posture relaxed despite a silver bullet in his kneecap.

“That’s what you think,” he replied as he leant forward slightly on his chair, his eyes boring into Deans. The eldest Winchesters face became void of emotion at that statement, a million variables running through his head, that was, until he heard cars and trucks pull up outside. The headlights beaming through the small cracks in the boarded up windows. Realisation dawned on Sam quicker than it did on Dean.

“He’s bait,” Sam stated, squaring out his shoulders as he looked towards the werewolf tied up on the chair. The werewolves smile got wider.

“…and bingo was his name-o,” the wolf sang, almost mocking Dean’s earlier quip as he stared down the brothers.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed, as he ticked his jaw. Sam moved silently, holding his gun close to his chest as he snuck to the front door, aiming to scope out as many as he possibly could. The wolf chuckled, bring Dean’s full attention back to him.  

“You’re surrounded. So much for the all mighty Winchesters,” the werewolf taunted. It only took a second but the monster’s smugness turned to fear in seconds when he saw how Dean’s face had changed. His eyes were dark, his shoulders were square and his gun was pointed straight at the werewolf’s heart.  

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Dean hissed before pulling the trigger. Crimson painted the already dirty surfaces as the silver bullet entered the wolf.  It took only a second, but the life drained from the monsters eyes as it slumped forward. Dean pulled up his nose in disgust before joining Sam by the front door. Dean didn’t even have to ask his little brother about the situation, his look was merely enough for Sam to respond.

“I counted ten but there could be more,” Sam said in a hushed tone, not wanting to give away their already vulnerable position. Dean just nodded his head slightly, puffing out his lower lip.

“Good job I brought enough bullets,” Dean quipped, motioning for Sam to step back so they could take their defensive positions. Sam nodded, turning what small lock was in the door before retreating next to his brother. Luckily the place had already been barricaded, whether this was a tactic by the werewolves so they knew the Winchester brothers would have only one point of entry was a mystery, but it was certainly working to their advantage now.

It didn’t take long before the door handle starting to jimmy before banging came upon the front door. The lock wasn’t going to hold for long, pieces of wood already falling from the blocked out window thanks to the strength of whoever was outside. Dean and Sam raised their guns, with one point of entry, they knew they had a good stand. They would be able to hit each one as they tried to enter, at least that’s what they thought.

The banging on the door soon stopped only to be replaced with a commotion amongst the pack. Screaming and shouting could be heard echoing outside which had the brothers confused. Taking steady steps towards the door, now being able to use the freed up window to see better, they were greeted with members of the pack being assassinated where they stood. They were all in a panic, none of them knew where the silent kills were coming from. Some were cowering behind others, some were sniffing the air to try and get a scent of an intruder but before it could register, they would be taken down by another bullet.

Noting that there were only a few werewolves remaining, Dean and Sam decided to unlock the door to aid the assassination of the pack. They had no idea who was behind the shots but they were thankful that the assassin was on their side. The few remaining wolves were cowering behind their cars to shield themselves from the silent bullets but they had forgotten about the Winchesters. Taking a few kills themselves, they thought they had done. Bodies surrounded them on the floor but as Sam stood up straight, he didn’t see the young werewolf stalking him. It was over in seconds, just as the young wolf was about to pounce, a bullet pierced its way through its heart before it landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. Both of the Winchesters eyes were wide as they looked around once more, this time ensuring everyone was truly dead.

In that moment, Dean heard footsteps and cocked his gun in the direction of the sound. Only to be greeted with a young woman, sniper attached to her back with a pistol in her hands as she held them up in a surrendering manner, showing she meant no harm.

“You boys ok?!” You asked, your voice full of genuine concern as you approached the brothers. Your gaze flickered over Dean before focusing on Sam. Dean frowned slightly as you stepped closer to them, the lights from the headlights now highlighting your face and features and Dean’s mouth went dry. You wore a khaki coloured v neck top and same coloured jacket paired with dark jeans and combat boots. Gun holster on your thigh, sniper strapped to your back and the concern etched in your features, you were beautiful.

“Yeah, yeah we’re good,” Sam replied, disarming himself by placing his pistol in the back of his jeans. Dean still had his gun burning his palm, his stare not once leaving you. Naturally, he was on guard, you could be a rival wolf from another pack or you could have been someone who they had pissed of recently. However, he still couldn’t help his attraction to you.

“…and you are?” Dean asked, his tone softer than normal as he tried not to sound like a dick. You just turned to him and smiled a warm smile as you holstered your gun.

“Y/N,” you answered, holding out your hand to shake his, “Y/N Y/L/N.” You hand was left lingering in the air as Dean’s eyes bore into yours. He didn’t move, he was dumbstruck by you and it was confusing him. Dean Winchester was never dumbstruck around women. Instead, Sam made the move, not wanting the situation to become any more awkward than it already was.

“I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean,” Sam introduced and noticed how your smile grew into a wide grin as you placed your hands into your front pockets of your jacket.

“Ahh the Winchester brothers! I’ve heard quite a few tales about you guys,” you mused, your smile turning coy as you still felt the eldest Winchesters gaze upon you. He hadn’t stopped staring, even though Sam had nudged him. Noticing his gun was still in his palm, Dean also decided to disarm himself.

“I’m sure,” he quipped as his eyes were trained to the supressed sniper on your back, “hey, where did you learn to shoot...that…thing?” He questioned, he was curious, naturally. He had to admit that he was impressed. You had taken out several of the werewolves with that gun which in turn had helped the brothers immensely.

“Oh you mean my BFG?” You retorted, one hand exiting your pocket to point to your back. Dean just frowned slightly in confusion and looked towards Sam who only shrugged.

“BFG?” Dean asked, looking back towards you in hopes for an answer. He had heard of many guns in his time but nothing of a BFG. The only BFG he knew was the one written by Roald Dahl. You laughed slightly, looking between the brothers.

“Big fucking gun,” you explained, emphasizing it with your hands, “it is much easier to pronounce and remember that than the actual name of the sniper. My dad trained me, he was a hunter too. Spent most of my younger years shooting cans from afar,” you admitted, a sad smile on your face at the memory. Dean noted how your expression changed slightly and although he didn’t know you, he wanted to see you smile a happier smile once more.

“Well you saved our asses, so you know, thanks,” Dean praised, a soft smile resting on his lips, his features gentle. You just nodded, placing your hand back into your pocket before looking over your shoulder into the distance.

“How about you boys thank me by getting a round in at that bar down the road? I sure could use one after all that,” you prompted, turning back towards the brothers only to see them having some sort of silent exchange with one another.

“Sounds good.” Sam nodded, already walking off in the direction of where Dean had parked the impala. Dean nodded also, rubbing his hands together as he walked to your side.

“Sure, I could use a beer”

 Dean smiled fondly at the memory, nursing his glass of whiskey Sam had brought him before going back to search through all the ingredients that they had in storage. In that moment, he was infatuated with you. A woman who could hold her own, a woman who could use a sniper effectively, a woman who had made him look at life in a completely different way.

“You know, in that moment, I swear…I just knew no other woman would do it for me the way that she does,” Dean admitted, his focus never leaving the box in front of him as he continued his search, “I was taken in by everything she was, by everything she is.” Sam just nodded, he knew how deep Dean’s feelings ran for you, and he knew that Dean loved you. Sam knew that from the moment you agreed to help him research the next case over a bottle of Jack, Dean’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Yeah, she’s definitely something special,” Sam agreed, nodding himself as he went over the list, checking off what they had already found, “I’m happy for you man, I am. Letting your guard down, allowing yourself to love someone.” Sam looked over at Dean as his brother had stopped searching, he was now leaning against the shelves, head in his hands as he combed through his hair in frustration.

“Yeah well look where it’s got me. Sorting through year upon year old shit to find the right ingredients to bring Y/N home because I wasn’t fast enough to save her. That’s even if this damn spell will work!” Dean exclaimed, his stress levels rising. His knuckles became white with irritation at the whole situation. It was becoming too much. The image of you in pain was still in the forefront of his mind. The cracks, the burns, your screams. You were his everything and he didn’t want to lose it. He couldn’t lose it. Sam noticed his brothers stress and offered a sincere smile, walking slowly over to his brother.

“Go back to her,” Sam said softly, offering a comforting hand upon Dean’s shoulder. Dean just shook his head slowly, standing straighter to go back to searching for what they needed.

“What? No Sam, we need to find this stuff,” Dean replied in exasperation, his voice tired. Sam just nodded, not one to give up so easily.

“Yeah and I’ll get Cas to help,” he stated, encouraging Dean away from the boxes as he carried on explaining, “look, you need to spending whatever time you have with her. She’s weak and she needs you right now. Go, we will get you out when everything is ready,” Sam clarified, a reassuring look resting in his features. Dean only had to look into his little brothers eyes to know he was telling the truth and deep down, he wanted to spend every one of his minutes with you. He patted his little brother on the chest twice, a gesture of thanks as he turned to the door.

“Thanks Sammy.” With that, Dean made his way back to your room. In hopes that Castiel will help him lose consciousness so he could be with you once more.

Going over that memory, remembering how you came into his life, Dean knew he had to tell you everything. He loved you. He loved everything about you and he needed you to know. In his heart, this spell was going to work and you would come home, everything would work out the way it should. In his head, he had doubts and those doubts were the ones that ate away at him, the ones that tell him that this is it, this is your last chance.

So Dean wanted to take that last chance with both hands. He was coming back to you and he was going to tell you how much he loved you and he was going to tell you the exact moment that he realised his love for you ran deeper than friendship. Just in case it happened to be game over.

A/N: Hope you liked it! 3 more chapters to go...just what could happen?!

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[reylo-musings]

The Hemiola: Two sides of the same coin.

Y’all.

Y’all. I am so sorry. I literally have been non-existent for the better part of 18 months, and I’m truly sorry. I’ve sat down to write this meta like 8 times between December 2017 and now, and life has just been a LOT. But I’m here. It’s happening. Here ya go.

Sooooooo. For my non-music nerds out there, the word Hemiola probably means literally nothing to you so let’s try to all get on the same page first before diving into this music meta. There are a few videos out there that do a good job trying to explain the concept, but tbh, it’s a little difficult to grasp if rhythm and math aren’t your favorite subjects in the world, so don’t stress too much if you’re just giving this post a blank look, I don’t blame you.

In the simplest of terms, hemiola is a switch from an overall 2 beat division to a 3 beat division, or the other way around. This can either occur by actually stopping one beat division and changing to the other, or by using both divisions simultaneously on top of one another.

Imagine you have 6 pieces of candy and want to distribute them between friends, but you want to make sure that everyone gets the exact same amount. Mathematically, your only options would be 1 piece each to 6 people, 2 pieces each to 3 people, or 3 pieces each to 2 people. Or I guess technically you could say “screw you” to your friends, and keep all the candy yourself. You do you.

But for the purposes of talking about hemiola, we are most interested in the scenarios where the candies are divided between either 2 or 3 total people. 

Musically, if you are given 6 notes, you can either choose to group them in sets of 2 or sets of 3. This grouping determines the “meter” of the piece. Meters which group notes in sets of 2 are called “simple” and those that group in sets of 3 are called “compound”.

This is why you may see music written in a 3/4  meter, but also music in a 6/8 meter, even though mathematically they reduce to the same fraction. 3/4 meter is the simple meter, the one where the 6 candies are shared equally between 3 people.

6/8 meter is the compound meter, the one where the 6 candies are shared equally between only 2 people.

Musically, each piece of candy represents 1 eighth note. A 3/4 meter puts the emphasis on every other note and a 6/8 meter places the emphasis on every third note.

Some of the most common instances of hemiola in musical literature will be totally switching from the 3/4 meter to the 6/8 one and continuing back and forth as often as you would like. The most popular of these examples is in “America” from West Side Story. Here’s a video. Visually, the pattern looks like this:

This can also be visualized by looking at the eighth notes more clearly.

The emphasis on the words “I” and “Be” establish the 3 note grouping, but then the punctuation of the syllables in “Me Ri Ca” establish a 2 note grouping. If you watch the video until around 3:35, the choreography has them clapping on all the unstressed beats and they change from sets of 2 short claps to 3 more spread out claps and back and forth. The lighter unlined boxes in each color represent those unstressed beats they are clapping on.

So, this video is super awesome and ties all this stuff together nicely. It gets a little jargon-y but the first 5 minutes or so are what’s really great to listen to. Especially the part around 3:50 where he talks about the implied hemiola that exists in the GoT theme, cause we’re coming back to that.

Ok, so, kinda getting it? Sorry this turned into a bit of a music theory lesson. But here’s the wrap up:

In a hemiola, there is no one side that is “right” or “wrong”. Both sides are mathematically equal to one another. They are perfectly balanced with one another and the power can either shift from one to the next, or they can operate simultaneously within the same duration of time.  

They are two sides of the same coin.

Ah, there it is. Now you see where I’m going with this. =)

Ok, so, Throne Room battle. That’s where we at. The music here is genuinely really hard to analyze aurally. If I had some actual sheet music to look at, that’d be great, but I ain’t got that so we’re just going with our ears.

The normal type of music that we’re used to hearing out in the world is consistent steady-metered music. 99% of your pop songs are written in a simple 4/4 meter and never change. If they’re not in 4/4, they’re probably in 3/4 or 12/8 but still usually stay consistent the whole time. This feels good to our brains as background music.

Battle music? Not super effective if it’s nice and consistent. The constant fluctuation of meters and rhythms and tempos and all that jazz puts us mentally on-edge. If the battle music is too consistent, we as viewers will subconsciously think we already know what’s going to happen. We feel at ease and won’t be so anxious. (Spoiler alert: Composers can also use this for shock value by making you too comfortable when the on-screen action is juxtaposingly overwhelming and then use it to hurt you when there’s a twist. They’re sneaky. They enjoy your pain.)

The throne room battle music? Very inconsistent. Honestly, so much inconsistency that I genuinely cannot determine the meter for good chunks of it. But there are a few key points where Williams does actually bring enough stability back to determine some semblance of structure. We first really start to hear this structure after the room starts burning. When the battle first started, they were back to back fighting the same enemy from two sides, but as they get separated and things start falling apart around them, they are each fighting their own individual battles. This notion becomes most obvious when there is the moment we see Kylo look over as Rey gets hurt. We as viewers recognize that they are fighting for the same goal, but they each have to be strong enough individually in order to reach it. One of them can’t just carry the other on their back to get there together.

In this moment, the music is actually a bit difficult to hear over everything else happening on-screen, so the soundtrack is a bit more telling. The track for this is “A New Alliance”.

The barebones is this: There is an overall very pounding, berating feel; lots of heavy emphasized notes that are in “simple” meter. It’s worth noting that Rey doesn’t get as much battle screen time as Kylo, but seeing as she’s fighting 1 and he’s fighting like 6 at a time, that completely makes sense. The longest on-screen battle action she gets once the room starts burning is after she’s gotten hurt and we see the sequence where she’s kicked to the ground and she gets back up and keeps fighting. During her on-screen action, the music changes. But not just the music, we get a hemiola. It’s more of that implied hemiola in the GoT intro, but definitely still an overall hemiola. Her theme is played in a 2:3 ratio to the stomping simple meter music we’ve been hearing through Kylo’s screen time. After it cuts back to him, his stomp music comes back. It cuts to Rey again after Kylo is in the head lock, and we again hear her theme hemiolaed (Is that a word? It is now.) over the existing “simple” time, but it sorta dissolves back into the agitated music.

Overall, this is not a lot to dig apart musically because it all happens so quickly and not for very long, but the concept is very much there. We are hearing this musical ratio, this balanced relationship, and it is a clear development from what we’ve heard from their previous battle music. There’s a now REALLY old meta that I wrote about 238 eons ago (at least that’s how long it feels it’s been since early 2016) that dealt with the relationship of Rey and Kylo’s music during the Starkiller battle. The boiled down version of that meta was that each of their themes was being affected by the other’s. Rey’s got darker, Kylo’s lost its stability.

This however is a new kind of relationship between their themes. No, we aren’t hearing Kylo’s typical 5-note theme, but let’s be honest, the man fighting in that room back to back with Rey after murdering Snoke wasn’t exactly “Kylo Ren” anymore. I’m not saying that he was exactly “Ben Solo” at this point, but whoever he was, that boy don’t got his own theme yet. He does have a concept though. He’s primal, he’s basic, and he’s a bit emotional. The music we hear for him shows that concept. It’s sporadic, yet simplistic. Rey’s theme has never really changed all that much. We’ve seen other moods leech into it slightly, but she’s stayed pretty consistent within herself and how she handles life. She’s just learned how to hone in on stuff now.

So this new kind of relationship, this coexisting rhythmic beauty, is just lovely to my musical reylo ears. We are really getting this “two sides of the same coin” idea from every side. We’ve gotten it in costumes. We’ve gotten it in dialogue. We’ve gotten it in cinematography. And now we get it in music. Everyone is stepping up to the plate in their own respects to show this fantastic ying-yang concept that exists between the two halves of our protagonist, and John Williams is no exception.

For the many many of you who have been asking about a “reylo” theme, this is the best I can offer you for right now. I’m sorry that it’s music theory jargon heavy, and I’m really sorry if you have just been blank staring at this whole post and not following me at all. It really is honestly the PERFECT musical representation of these two, and my music nerd brain is loving it to death, even if it only lasted for like 6 measures out of the entire score of the film.

[knives-and-lint]

never comes from your enemies

“Why do you always do this?” Josie shouts, hands wringing through her hair, as she turns away.

Lizzie's jaw drops, taken aback for a moment, because her sister almost never raises her voice. She watches as Josie crosses her arms, staring out the window, clearly upset though Lizzie cannot fathom why.

“Do what?” she questions. “Hate on Hope? We always-”

“No!” Josie denies, spinning back around to face her. “You always do.” Then softer. “And I always let you.”

Now Lizzie is really confused, because since when is that taboo? Since when is her seething hatred of Hope freaking Mikaelson, a sore subject? Okay yeah, she knows Hope is nice to Josie sometimes. (Just to dig at her, no doubt.) But it's not like they're suddenly besties. It's not as if... Oh. Oh god.

“Jo,” she starts, trying to keep the bile from rising in her throat. “You aren't... I mean, you're not like, into her. Are you?”

She doesn't answer. Just stands there blinking, and chewing in her bottom lip. Big fat tells that she's got a deep dark secret.

“No,” Lizzie denies out loud, throwing her hands up dramatically. “No, no, no. You can't. You can't be-”

“Why not?” Josie asks.

It abruptly feels as if the paparazzi have just taken a million pictures of her on the red carpet, with toilet paper stuck to her shoe. Like she's being pranked on some lame reality show. Like this is just some crazy alternate universe she's been sucked into.

“Why not?” she echoes incredulous. “Because it's Hope! Tribrid skank and wanna be dad thief.”

It's even more infuriating when Josie just rolls her eyes.

“She doesn't want to steal Dad from us.”

Lizzie scoffs.

“Oh no? Spending so much time together. Running to him for every little problem. Pulling him away whenever we might need him.”

Josie glares at her. Long enough to where Lizzie actually feels a little uncomfortable.

“You never thought to ask why?” she inquires. “Have you?”

Lizzie's mouth snaps shut. A simple question feeling like a reprimand. Ugh, she hates how it feels.

“Like it matters,” she mutters.

“Of course it matters,” Josie insists. “She goes to Dad, because she has no one else.”

So uncomfortable.

“I mean that. Literally. Her whole family is dead. Or gone. And they are never coming back for her.”

Lizze's eyes dart to her shoes, shifting her feet slightly, failing to come up with some catty remark. She's glad for it, though. Not wanting to be cruel, considering.

“Fine,” she says instead. “Go. Just go to the lake with Hope if you love her so much.”

Josie groans in frustration.

“We've only been dating a month, it's too soon to be talking about love.”

All the air feels like it's sucked from Lizzie's lungs. Slapped in the face. Punched in the gut.

“What did you just say?” she asks quietly. “You've been dating a month? Which means you've been lying to me? For. A. Month?”

Josie has the good sense, to at least look like she feels guilty about that. But there's something in her eyes Lizzie has never seen before. Not even when she was running around Penelope 'the devil incarnate' Park. Like this, of all things, is the hill she's choosing to die on.

“Considering how this conversation is going, do you blame me?”

Lizzie's head is spinning. Seriously, she could vomit.

“H-how,” she stutters, actually pressing a hand flush to her stomach. “Could you do this to me?”

Josie's expression quickly sours, an actual sneer on her lips.

“I'm not doing anything to you,” she shoots back. “I'm doing something for me. But of course you can't tell the difference.”

She's still reeling. Really. It's an accomplishment that she hasn't collapsed to the ground in despair.

“You could be dating anyone,” Lizzie puts out. “We rule this school.”

Josie laughs. Actually laughs. In her face.

“In what Bizzaro World does anyone see me?” she asks. “When you always make sure they're only looking at you?”

A knock on the door interrupts the argument, Josie goes to answer it without another word, and of course it's Hope on the other side.

“You've got to be freaking kidding me,” she mumbles to herself.

“Hey,” Hope says in greeting. “We should get down to the dock, blood moon's on the rise.”

Josie looks back to her sister.

“I'll be out in a minute.”

Hope catches Lizzie's eye, a single brow raising in curiosity, but she has enough sense not to ask. Instead she puts a hand on Josie's ever so briefly, and files back into the hall.

“She makes me happy, Liz.” Josie states evenly. “Really, really happy.”

The mere fact that Hope Mikaelson can make her sister feel anything sends Lizzie's blood into a boil.

“Don't you want me to be happy?”

What a dumb, preposterous question.

“How can you ask me that?”

Josie opens the door, Hope thankfully just out of sight beyond it.

“Because,” she starts, stepping out into the hall. “I never ask you for anything.”