#I think I have the opposite problem w portraits | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

well-its-not-human-anymore · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Could I get HC from the guys? 👀 How they would always react to catching the reader seeing them "badly", in addition to the fact that he usually avoids them, but with his brothers it is incredible and they feel bad because they think they do not like him. But she actually likes them and she looks at them like that because she "studies" them to draw them and she is too clumsy and shy to talk to them, that's why she ends up avoiding them. Until finally he catches her drawing them with lots of hearts or maybe they'll find her notebook with lots of portraits of them.

It's kind of funny because when I study people to draw them, they think that I look at them with hatred xd maybe I should increase my glasses prescription

God, glasses are such a pain in the ass but I have to wear them. If I don't anyone within my near vicinity doesn't have a face. But why they gotta get dirty so easily???? Makes me wanna explode or something

TMNT Headcanons

The boys w/ a quiet reader who is fine with his brothers but acts cold around him and stares a lot

Michaelangelo

mikey couldn't describe his disappointment upon realizing that you didn't want to be friends with him

well, you never actually said that to him

but he was pretty sure it was the case

you'd never made an effort to be friends with him

stared at him an awful lot though, but there was always something off about your gaze when you looked at him

like you were sizing him up, scrutinizing him, like he was an opponent

it kinda worried him

to add to that, you didn't even attempt to look embarrassed when he caught you staring

you'd just stare harder

on your end it was quite the opposite

you always found the brothers fascinating and you LOVED studying their anatomy, you'd confessed this to Donnie early on and he happily indulged in your questions

and you loved how easily you got along with the boys

well, except for Mikey

but it wasn't for a lack of trying

whenever the orange sporting turtle came around your normally flamboyant personality crept back into its little corner and hid

any words of excitement that had previously been with you died in your throat

for the longest time you didn't understand it

and you hated not understanding things, so you turned to your only outlet

that's how you ended up with an entire sketchbook full of the youngest brother in vastly different styles and poses

you had a separate book for the others, none of them as detailed as this

and when you stared to analyze you'd fallen into a habit of not looking away when caught

by your logic, if you stared back hard enough he'd look away first or just assume you'd zoned out

he didn't

and on one hectic day you'd left your sketchbook open on the kitchen table in your rush to get to work

you hadn't even noticed the slip up until Leo texted you to let you know during your shift

instant panic

in truth, Mikey was the one who discovered the book upon waking up from his nap and he'd spent the next three hours analyzing every drawing

when you finally dropped in after work to grab your book the turtle was waiting for you with it in hand

he'd asked you if you hated him

you told him no and accepted your sketchbook from him

he was relieved and screaming excitedly, just in his head

"Do you maybe wanna hang out sometime?"

You sighed in relief and nodded

"If you're cool with it- you don't think I'm weird do you?"

"I mean- you are talking to a turtle..."

you lightly shoved his chest and smiled, although it faded within a second

"Oh hush, 10 o'clock tomorrow? I'll bring snacks."

he was so stunned he could only shoot you finger guns in approval

Donatello

Donnie genuinely couldn't understand your unease around him

he'd followed all the proper expectations of holding a conversation

he was polite and engaging

so why wouldn't you talk to him?

this boy has read so many social blogs to try and figure out what he was doing wrong and he just couldn't put his finger on it

you were fine with the rest of his brothers, you'd stay up for hours laughing and gaming with them

you'd even sat still long enough to listen to Leo explain some old Japanese myth that he'd read about in a book

but with him it was always a quick, cordial greetings and farewells with bland small talk in between

Donnie had picked up pretty quickly that you weren't interested in any sort of interaction with him

and he convinced himself that that was okay

but that didn't explain the staring

he'd caught you in the act several times, eyes narrowed and locked on him

especially when you were alone with him in a room or just in the lair

the poor turtle just couldn't put his finger on it

then he caught you drawing, he noticed early on that you always carried a small sketchbook on your person but he didn't think much of it

and it wasn't so much that he caught you drawing, in fact, he wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't snapped at him while he was trying to do a sudoku puzzle

"Damn it Donnie! Stop moving! If I fuck this arm up one more time I'm gonna decompose!"

he'd quickly moved back into the position he was in prior

"sorry?"

but you'd gone silent again, occasionally glancing up from your work and running your eyes along his frame before looking down again

nearly twenty minutes later Donnie had finished the puzzle and it seemed as though you had finished your drawing

"Uh- can I ask what are you-"

"I'm drawing you but you kept moving your arm and making me mess up. You always do that when I draw you so every damn picture I have of you stays a sketch because you always come out looking like a fucking octopus."

He just stared

"Sorry, I uh- I didn't mean to explode on you like that. I'm just- I'm really bad at talking to you okay? It's so easy with everyone else but you've just gotta be so damn smart all the time and I worry that you'll think I'm boring so I just... don't talk to you?"

Donnie is stunned™

You refuse to show him the drawing until you can complete the line art and color it

But at least he knows that you don't hate him

Leonardo

To be completely honest Leo didn't mind that you were distant from him

You created an aura of calm when you were around and you always managed to distract his brothers while you were present

And he enjoyed the alone time

But after a few months that calm acceptance turned into jealousy

Not that he would ever admit it

He would just push it off and ignore it, that usually seemed to work

So why wasn't it?

And your obvious staring problem didn't help at all

Leo didn't spend much time considering his appearance but something about your gaze made him self conscious

And he hated that with a passion

Why was it that you could hold entire debates with his siblings? Even his dad for gods sake. You'd have hour long conversations on almost everything but whenever he tried to say hello you'd make up some lame ass excuse and scamper away

He just wanted an explanation

It appeared that the answer resided in your sketchbook

You'd left it open on the couch when Raph had called you away to spar with him

Leo very delicately flipped through the pages, careful not to disturb some of the polaroid pictures of his brothers

He was admittedly surprised to find pictures of himself among the pages

One of him in a handstand, another of him meditating, there was even one of him mid sneeze that you'd recreated with pencil and paper

The image of his eyes was the most startling, but the book held no polaroid of his eyes

You drew them from memory

And he was shocked when you returned to the room and didn't immediately panic

But that might have been because he didn't try to withhold your book from you

"It took me three months to color them, your eyes. I could never get the shade of blue just right."

"I'm gonna be honest with you y/n, I really thought you didn't like me."

You had the nerve to roll your eyes and follow it with a laugh

"I don't. I mean- I do but no, you just remind me a lot of myself and I haven't exactly figured out why yet. I thought that maybe if I drew you it'd be easier to figure you out..."

"Well did it help?"

You grinned

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

Raphael

If there was one thing Raph hated it was not understanding something that was right in front of him

which is ironic, as a much younger version of himself probably couldn't care less

and a part of him wishes he didn't care about it so much

he wishes that your blatant avoidance of him didn't upset him

but shit, it got under his skin better than any needle ever could

was it too much to ask for you to just tell him what he said or did wrong?

was he asking too much of you?

but on the same scale you'd never shown obvious dislike towards him, you were never rude and you sure as hell didn't talk shit about him to his brothers

you got along great with them

in fact it was getting more difficult to remember a time before you became a part of his family

he'd become so used to your presence that it no longer put him off when he found you hanging around the lair

but in another sense he was certain that you hadn't spoken more than three sentences to him in your time knowing him or his family

so what was the reason

several months in he finally caught onto the staring, your narrow, glassy gaze locked onto his body and refusing to look away

he stared right back at you

this annoyed you for several reasons

because within five seconds your very peaceful drawing session had turned into a staring contest and your eyes were getting VERY dry

then you exhaled in a half-sigh and looked back down at your paper

"Huh, I guess your head is more of an oblong shape..."

he took offense to this

"What tha' hell is that supposed t'mean?"

now your eyes held more of an amused silent judgement, you begrudgingly held up your sketchbook

"I'm drawing you, you fucking walnut."

"Oh..."

now you rolled you eyes and tossed the book to him, he nearly dropped it and fumbled with the pages

your annoyance was quickly growing

"Careful with that."

He flipped through the pages at a snails pace, assumingly because he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing

you had some real talent

when he looked back up at you he was wearing that crooked smile

"and here I was thinkin' that my eyes were just green."

Hope I was able to get this down pretty well! I really enjoyed writing this one! Thanks for the patience!

-Mars 🌠

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt headcanons #tmnt x reader #writing blog #writing requests #askbox #ask response #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo

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gyusbambi · 4 years ago

Text

trapped; chenle

genre: angsty fluff, dark academia, arranged marriage, pianist chenle, literature student y/n

note: hello, everyone. i just wanted to let you know that this is my first writing on tumblr and english is not my first language. therefore i am sorry if there are mistakes. also this might not be that good. still, i hope you will enjoy this and it’d mean a lot to me if you could like or give feedback? my chats are always open if you want to say anything. have fun!

words: 7,6k

“it’s time for you to get married.”

complete silence dominates in your father‘s old-fashioned work room, where you stand in front of his wooden desk with a confused expression. lines form between your eyebrows as you slightly tilt your head to the side, expecting your dad to continue talking. however, the old man seems rather unbothered as he simply flicks through his folder with documents. anxious about his frightening statement, your glance darts around the dark room. you take a quick look at the portraits of long forgotten people hanging on the walls, as if you could get an answer from them. dark brown wallpapers, a wooden rocking chair in the corner, antique curtains, a huge bookshelf and a beige vintage sofa decorate your father’s work room.

taking a deep breath and letting it out again slowly, you finally are brave enough to look up at him. still, you nervously tap your fist against your right thigh, opening and closing your mouth several times before forming words: “w-what do you mean it’s time for you to get married?”

you scold yourself internally for lightly stuttering. however, the man in front of you pauses before looking up with a look of puzzlement: “what part of it don’t you understand?”

“i’m only 18!”

an exaggerated sigh leaves his mouth while he crosses his arms and leans against his chair, “i thought we’ve already talked about this, y/n.”

“you’re right. we’ve talked about this once.” slowly getting irritated with every second passing by, you can’t help but raise your voice.

rubbing the brow as if to ward off a headache your father replies with a sharpening tone:

“look, young lady. i’m pretty sure you are aware of the importance of business relationships. if we want to grow successfully, we need to take this wonderful opportunity and get closer to the na’s.”

with disappointment you look down, chin almost dipping to your chest. after that you close your eyes for a moment. once again you feel trapped. sadly, you’ve felt so miserably hopeless over the years, as if you were locked in a cage. never have you experienced the feeling of freedom. you almost envy the several birds flying past your window every night. they seemed so carefree, enjoying every bit of freedom. on the contrary, you always have to follow your father‘s orders - from the way you act to the man you have to marry.

“you’ll get married to na jaemin, the son of mister na. he’s a kind gentlemen. it’s the best for you, my daughter.”

finally breaking the silence, your father speaks up while trying to make eye contact with you. whereas you try to avoid his eyes as much as possible in order to hide your teary ones. as much as you want to conceal your discouraged emotions, your hopeless eyes eventually meet the cold ones of the old man and you say one last thing with your shaky voice before finally leaving his room: “when will you ask me what i want?”

the library is the place where you find joy and peace. several bookshelves filled with various literature, beautiful framed windows, beige tones as well as the slight darkness creeping in your academies library cause you to ease up on your terrible thoughts. besides the calming atmosphere, you couldn’t miss out on the smell of books or the sound of raindrops falling outside.

books help you get lost in your own dreams, in your own fantasy. they distract you from your awful reality you so desperately want to avoid. therefore, you once again find yourself sitting at the back of the academy library with a novel placed on the desk. while flipping through the pages, you remember why you‘re there in the first place. obviously you have to confess you‘re a coward. a person shamelessly running away from their problems, while their whole life is falling apart.

after a while you finish the novel are way too excited to start the next book on your literature list. satisfied with the atmosphere in the library you leave your seat to make your way to your favorite section. in fact, that section wasn’t exactly located in the library but in the room right next to it. it was separated from the other sections and even had a piano placed in the middle of it. most of the time that area seemed empty, leaving only you searching for your favorite books.

when you eventually enter the room, you don’t see what you expected. instead of an empty place filled with complete quietness, you find a young man sitting in front of the piano. he plays beautiful tones, his look absolutely focused on the keys. for a moment, you are taken aback. instead of moving forward, you stand there like frozen. curiously, you take a closer look at the person running his fingers lightly over the keys. the young man seems so concentrated, so passionate and calm, he doesn’t even notice you standing right next to the door. he has dark hair, his bangs slightly covering his forehead. his skin seems soft and light. somehow it reminds you of snow, so clear and pure. he wears a black blazer with a white button up underneath.

certainly, you have never seen this man in the academy before. moreover you know that nobody really plays the piano in this neglected part of the library. therefore you are surprised, amazed as well, not only from his piano skills but also from his appearance.

it is only a few seconds later, when the pianist’s dark eyes leave the keys only to meet yours. a beat skips. at first he keeps on playing but soon it comes to an end. therefore a strained silence settles, while you two just stare into each other’s eyes. the eyes you were longing to look up were round and dark like the night. no single sound can be heard. only your heartbeat in your chest which speeds up. everything else stops existing. it’s only the two of you. yet, soon enough you start to worry. why can’t you focus on anything else? why can’t words leave your mouth? with the strained silence still taking over the room you blink a few times and get aware of the strange situation. before the pianist takes the chance to speak, your feet quickly move towards the specific bookshelf which is placed a little further from the piano. with your heart still beating like a drum, your fingers run over the old books on the shelf. at the same time you hide from the young man, who strangely makes you feel nervous.

you expect the pianist to continue playing. however, the room is still filled with quietness. shortly after you hear footsteps. maybe he left?

before you can distract yourself even more, your eyes scan through the books in front of you. when you finally spot the one you were looking for, you instantly reach for it. as you grab the book from the shelf, you spot someone through the gap between the books. there he is, on the other side of the same bookshelf, his fingers running over several novels. instantly your eyes meet and the familiar feeling starts growing in you again. surprised, you pull your book tight against your chest. neither of you say a word, which starts to make you nervous. however, a small smile appears on the pianist’s face as he grabs a certain book from the shelf, his eyes never leaving yours while doing so. as a result, you attempt to avert your gaze in order to hide the sudden shyness, but the rosiness of your cheeks give it away. in the end it’s just you standing there, watching him leave the room with the book in his right hand.

it’s the next day and you can’t deny that you’ve been thinking about the mysterious pianist from the library. the memory of him playing the piano or gazing at you through the bookshelf is enough for you forget about the uncomfortable situation you currently find yourself in.

“...right, y/n?”

your father’s sudden voice brings you back to reality. renjun, your best friend, nudges you from your right side in attempt to draw your attention. unfortunately, you didn’t pay attention to the conversation your father was having with the people sitting in the same room as you. instead you preferred to doze off by replaying the same scenes from yesterday in your head over and over again. several seconds pass, yet you still can’t seem to reply while you push the food around on your plate.

“y/n?” your dad calls your names once again.

with huge embarrassment you finally look up to find him slightly glaring at you with disapproval in his narrowed eyes.

“hm?” first you pretend to have unheard him, yet soon his glaring basically forces you to continue after clearing your throat nervously,

“i-i’m so sorry, i wasn’t paying attention.”

“of course you weren’t.” jaemin scoffs playfully yet so quietly that apparently you are the only one who hears him. completely annoyed with his actions, you can’t help but give him a hateful glare. after that you feel renjun’s hand on yours under the table, trying to calm you down.

renjun, you, both of your fathers and the na’s are currently sitting on the same table for dinner. obviously, they so desperately wanted you and jaemin to get along. however, his annoying behavior and your lack of interest cause the complete opposite.

“that’s understandable, y/n. you must be stressed out from all the exams. our jaemin is going through the same thing.” mister na says with a caring tone and offers you a smile.

“actually, i’m not-”

“i heard you study literature! that sounds quite interesting. in fact, jaemin is into books too. he spends the whole day in the library, you know.” jaemin can’t finish his sentence when his father doesn’t hesitate to interrupt him.

“would you look at that! y/n is exactly the same.” your dad laughs while patting your shoulder which leads you to smile awkwardly. all you want in that moment is to escape.

clearly nobody in this room is actually interested in what you do. only attempting to bring you two closer. involving jaemin in every single matter made it obvious enough. you like reading? jaemin does too! perfect, just marry each other already!

it is true that you see jaemin in the library almost every single day. besides that, you are pretty sure that he helps around there as well. usually you two would simply pass by each other without greeting. sometimes jaemin would sit near your table, eyes shifting towards you once in a while. at the dinner table you eventually glance at him with curiosity, only to find him already looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“i heard family zhong has returned? his youngest is already attending the academy...”

now everyone is engrossed in their own conversations again, enabling renjun to talk to you. your friend leans in, sliding a chair closer. head tilting to the side, eyebrows slightly furrowed, he speaks up with a soft voice:

“what’s wrong with you?”

“nothing. why?” you shrug, attempting to hide your lack of concentration.

“nothing?” renjun repeats your words with a questioning voice,

“tell me one thing you picked up on this conversation.”

with arms crossed in front of his chest he patiently waits for you to answer. resigned, you sigh before facing him eventually,

“yesterday i was in the piano room and there was someone who played the piano.”

“so?” renjun chuckles after the short silence.

“the thing is i have never seen him before. in the academy i mean.”

“he must be a new student then.”

“probably. he-” you trail off suddenly, the scene of his eyes meeting yours for the first time appearing in your mind.

“what? was he attractive?” renjun jokes with amusement while bumping shoulders with you.

however, when you don’t seem to reply, he almost chokes on his food with widen eyes,

“don’t tell me you fell for a stranger.”

shaking your head you look away from renjun with red cheeks.

“no, renjun,” your groan,

“it just felt different when we saw each other.” you remember that moment precisely which causes a fluttering in your stomach.

suddenly, renjun throws his head back in a bray of laughter while grabbing at his ribs like he has a stitch in his side at the same time. everyone turns their head to the laughing boy sitting next to you. soon, he covers his mouth with a hand to hide his amusement before apologizing politely.

“what the hell, renjun, are you out of your mind?” you whisper angrily.

“i couldn’t help it. how can i not when you literally sound like a fourteen-year-old girl crushing on someone for the first time.”

“the only thing i tried to explain you was that he looked- he looked alright but that’s not what i was trying to tell you- stop it!” you stutter while moving your hands in attempt to express yourself but punch your friend’s chest when he can’t keep a straight face.

“what’s so funny, huang?” jaemin asks with a raised eyebrow.

“oh, i just remembered how you call mark lee your oppa.” renjun smirked. you press your lips together to hold your laugh.

finally the family dinner comes to an end which enables you to breathe again. renjun waves at you with a worried smile when you leave with your father. just as much as you, your friend is completely unhappy with you forcefully getting engaged to na jaemin.

at the dinner table he told you about the new student from one of the richest families returning to the academy. apparently that certain person studies music and is known for his incredible voice. jaemin, on the other hand, chose not to talk much, besides leaving a few teasing comments now and then.

like always the neglected area of the library is completely empty. the utter silence is nothing new to you. everything remains the same in that specific room, yet one certain matter seems remarkable. truly speaking, you are a little upset when you don’t spot the particular pianist in front of the old piano. instantly you try to avoid the unfulfilled expectations in your head. they make you feel foolish, silly, delusive. how could you let yourself fall into your peculiar fantasy once again? perhaps your father is right when he claims that the books you read influence your expectations on the real world.

letting out a sigh, your hands brush over your dark green dress while your eyes scan through the rest of the library. instead of leaving that room, you spontaneously decide to try and play the piano yourself. after you take a seat, your fingers run over the cold keys. there happens to be a little dust, which you quickly brush away. at that moment, the memory of you playing the instrument for the first time appears in your head. you remember precisely how your beautiful mother wrapped her arm around your shoulder, the other hand over your small one. she placed your fingers on the right keys and gave you a loving smile before finally pressing them. although she had shown you multiple times, you still preferred to watch her play it herself. unfortunately, you never actually learned how to play it, since after your mother’s death, you haven’t dared to play it ever again. yet here you are, sitting in front of that specific instrument with absolute cluelessness.

a few minutes pass and you still sit in the same spot, pressing random keys on the piano. while doing so, images of your mother appear in your head. right when you are about to give up and leave the abandoned room, suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat catches your attention. startled you snap your head to the sound of a stranger only to find the young man, you were admittedly longing to meet, standing at the entrance. the sight of him causes you to let out a small gasp. when you don’t speak, the pianist becomes uneasy.

“am i interrupting you?” he asks with his finger pointing to the piano, his eyebrows slightly raised while waiting for your answer.

"no! no, i was just playing around.” you nervously chuckle before looking down at the instrument in front of you, unable to meet the eyes of the stranger.

“ah,” he nods understandingly, “do you usually practice here?”

you shake your head, eyes not leaving the piano, “i can’t play. normally i’m here for the books.”

“true.” he mumbles, keeping his head down. you fail to notice the small smile creeping across his face.

chenle remembers perfectly how he spotted you on the other side of the same bookshelf. the small space between the books enabled him to glance at you. the sight of you holding your book tightly against your chest with red cheeks was enough for him to smile with amusement.

“i mean i kinda caught you playing random tones.” he rubs the back of his neck without making eye contact.

you can’t help but let out a quiet laugh, “you can admit that i’m miserable.”

“practice is the key. mind if i join you?”

“sure!” you respond a little to fast.

eventually the young pianist takes a seat next to you and places his hand on the keys. it doesn’t take him long to start playing a beautiful melody, making it look so effortless and easy. you are more than impressed when he finishes the short play and turn his head to face you.

“you’re really good!” you compliment when your eyes leave the piano keys to meet the ones of the stranger. his smile widens when suddenly an idea pops up in his head,

“thank you. do you want me to teach you a little?”

“that would be great.” you nod as you give him a thankful glance.

in a matter of fact, there has always been this desire to play piano deep inside you. with the hope that maybe, just maybe, a connection between you and your beloved mother could develop. when you think about it, it’s almost like the young pianist knows what you have been thinking about. even the simplest melody would make you satisfied. perhaps, the complete stranger could help you build a connection between your mother and you. somehow, he looks into your eyes a little longer, as if he’s trying to read you, before eventually focusing on the piano again.

“alright, so let’s start off with the notes.”

suddenly he slides closer to you in order to wrap his right arm around your shoulder and places his warm hand on your cold, small one. your skin tingles from the sudden contact of his skin with yours.

“now you need to...”

nervously you just stare at your hands on the piano, unable to meet the eyes of the young pianist, who sits way too close to you. you can feel the soft fabric of his blazer on your right arm. his knee touches yours under the piano. you can also feel his breath on your neck when he explains how to play the instrument. however, you can’t focus on what he’s saying. you imagine what would happen if you look up at him.

“... you still here?” the young man chuckles and you feel embarrassment when you realize that he must have noticed your lack of concentration.

when you look up to give him an answer, the closeness of his face makes you forget what you wanted say. again, you feel your face reddening.

the young man himself, is flustered as well when he notices rosiness on your cheeks. he is totally taken back by your long lashes, your beautiful eyes and your cherry tinted lips. besides that he really likes your sweet scent.

“i’m sorry! i zoned out a little.” you admit while you look into his eyes.

“that’s okay. we can try again!”

you take the nice offer and he teaches you one more time.

almost an hour passes, when you find yourself sitting in the library with the mysterious pianist, talking about several topics. for you, it’s great to have someone who communicates about books, music, art or theories, instead of business, money or work.

you both talk about your majors in the academy and you find out that the pianist, surprisingly, studies music. after you mention that you’re a literature student, he gets quite excited. with interest he wants to know more about it and expects you to talk more about it.

it’s when you two laugh about the ridiculous history professor, when suddenly your closest, and only friend, renjun enters the room with a worried expression on his face. however, his face changes to shocked, when he spots you and the stranger sitting on a table near the window.

“y/n, are you here? na jaemin wants to-”, he trails off before raising his eyebrows,

“zhong chenle?! what are you doing here?”

“renjun-ssi! aren’t you excited to see me?” the boy next to me tilts his head slightly with confusion and you notice the playful frown on his face.

“dude, i didn’t know you already arrived.” renjun doesn’t talk much but pulls the other boy in for a hug.

this is zhong chenle? the boy from a rich family who returns to the academy?

“i missed you, man.” chenle pats renjun’s back.

yet, renjun pulls back only to hit his shoulder playfully,

“why didn’t you let me know? since when are you here, huh?”

“i’m sorry, hyung. these days are very stressful for everyone, you know?”

renjun nods understandingly and finally pays attention to you, trying to hide the fact that he forgot that you are here too.

“you are zhong chenle?” you question with a confused voice as you furrow your eyebrows while pointing to him.

chenle sighs before nodding, “yes. that’s me.”

“y/n probably expected you to act like a rich snob.” renjun chuckles before you cough and send him a glare.

“hold on, don’t tell me the mysterious pianist you’ve been tal-”, before your friend can finish his sentence, you abruptly stand up in order to slap your hand on his mouth,

“shut up, renjeon.” you mumble, knowing renjun despises this specific nickname, originally created by na jaemin.

“are you two friends?”

“yes, we happen to be friends.” you answer while renjun gives you an annoyed look, still offended by the way you decided to call him,

“in fact, i’m your only friend.”

you are used to his odd behavior and decide to ask him something that has been in your mind since he came into the library,

“were you looking for me?”

“oh, right.”, renjun remembers and shakes his head to focus, “apparently na jaemin has something to talk about.”

the uncomfortable feeling appears again. soon you decide to leave the two boys and say goodbye before making your way to your fiance, na jaemin.

soon it turns out that na jaemin wants to talk to you about your upcoming marriage. of course, this matter makes you annoyed. for a certain reason jaemin seems to be serious about the whole situation. the young boy never fails to impress everyone by his charm, looks and intelligence. more important than that, he never disappoints his family. always coming up with the best ideas for their company, developing relationships with important people and giving his best in the academy. yet, you are quite confused when you find out that na jaemin wants to marry you. even in a situation like this, he can’t risk disappointing his family?

however, you certainly don’t care about his image and for sure won’t accept to be a part of his family.

“look, y/n, i know you don’t want this. trust me, i don’t want this either but it’s the best for us-”

“i don’t care about what’s best for us, this is my life and i should at least be allowed to decide if i want to marry.”

“would you stop being so selfish for once?” jaemin hissed.

“selfish?” you scoff, “i pity you, na jaemin. all you care about is how others think of you. i will never marry you.”

you once again you find yourself in one of your favorite places. this time it isn’t the peaceful library, but the flower garden. indeed, you adore the lovely smell of several flowers and the view of the scenery while you sit on the fresh grass, enjoying every bit of nature. just like the library, this place radiates peace. with a smile on your face you look around, checking if anyway was watching. when you don’t see anyone, you happily pick up some daisies - they’re your favorite.

from the building in front of the flower garden, chenle spots you through the window. the young pianist pushes the curtains further to the side as he watches you pick up a few flowers. you’re wearing a long sleeved white dress which reaches just above your knees. whenever he observed you, he saw a confused, worried and slightly shy girl. however, now that he looks at you, you seem like the happiest.

chenle doesn’t even notice a smile creeping across face, as he continues staring at you. he even considers walking downstairs just to meet you. as a matter of fact, the previous day keeps popping up in his mind. he enjoyed the moment he shared with you in the library: how his hand was placed on your soft one, how the redness appeared on your cheeks, how you talked about music and literature. desperately wanting the feeling of his rapid heartbeat to appear again, he doesn’t think twice before running towards the flower garden.

instead of greeting you he decides to walk up to you until there was only a few inches left between you. unawarely, you look at the flowers in your hand with keeping your head down. while doing so, you fail to notice chenle lowering his head slowly, almost touching your right shoulder. however, when the young man eventually whispers a hello in your ear, you let out a yelp and jump before turning around.

suddenly you are met with chenle standing right in front of you, your bodies almost touching. shocked by his sudden appearance, your eyes widen and your feet stumble over his. for a moment you close your eyes as you lose your balance and feel yourself fall. yet, before your back hits the ground, chenle is able to wrap his arm around your waist, holding you there, safe from falling. your fists are pressed against his chest, the daisies completely squeezed in your sweaty hand.

once your eyes meet his, a heavy feeling in your stomach appears. at the sudden contact of his body with yours, you feel your skin tingle. soon your pale face turns as red as the roses in the flower garden.

“woah there, did i scare you that much?” chenle chuckles as he looks into your eyes with amusement. you can feel his chest rising slightly while he does so.

for a moment you can’t find the right words as you try to avoid making eye contact as much as possible. after glancing around as if you‘re looking for an exit or escape, you finally look back to the pianist before speaking,

“why did you do that?”

“for fun.” he shrugs with a small smirk,

“what are you doing here anyway?” chenle asks although he already knows the answer.

“i wanted to walk around a little and... i also picked up some daises, i guess.” you mumble the last part, as your eyes leave his to look at the squished flowers in your hand, still in the same position,

“and you?” you ask, eyes moving back to his face,

“what are you doing in the flower garden?”

now it’s chenle’s turn to look for the right words. somehow, he does not want to admit that the only reason he came here was you.

now that he also notices that your bodies are still attached to each other, his arm around your waist while your hands lay on his chest, the situation seems to get difficult for him. with his heartbeat fastening, he clears his throat to answer the question. however, before he can even open his mouth, you take a step back slowly, your hands now swinging by your sides.

it is stupid how you both fail to notice the redness on each other’s cheeks.

“s-sorry.” you stutter as your eyes focus on his chest.

chenle raises his eyebrows, “no! it’s not your fault, i-”

“i mean the flowers,” you interrupt him as you point to the daises sticking to his sweater.

the pianist immediately looks down and can’t help but laugh at the sight of daisies pressed against his chest.

soon you both sit on the grass and talk about this and that. you have no idea how you ended up in this position, but your head rests on chenle’s thigh, his hand playing with your soft hair, while you look up to the sky.

“what do you want to do after academy?” chenle asks and starts playing with the daisies you had pressed against his chest before.

nobody has asked you this question before, not even your own father.

what do you want?

no, it is always you following your dad’s rules. not even once you have had the chance to decide for yourself. in fact, your whole life is entirely planned by other people.

what are you supposed to answer? that you will forcefully get married to a successful man you don’t want, and follow him around everywhere?

“i want to become a journalist.” you reply instead. with chenle, you want to talk about your dreams.

he looks at you with surprised eyes, “that sounds awesome! i can tell you’ll be successful.”

“you think so?” with a small, delighted smile you lean in a little.

“of course! your writing is excellent, you show so much passion and you’re quite ambitious. not to mention you pay attention to detail.” he braids the daisies in your hair but you don’t even realize, completely taken back by his words.

chenle smiles, unable to meet your eyes. he remembers how you couldn’t stop talking about writing and reading with so much excitement in your eyes. how you envy the lives of main characters because they seem to exciting, whereas yours is boring and somber.

“thank you, chenle. this means a lot to me.”

his eyes land on you and he finds you smiling with joy. this makes him happy and he can’t deny the butterfly in his stomach caused by that smile of yours.

little did he know, this was only the beginning.

somehow chenle and you start meeting each other more and more. the both of you keep seeing each other in the library and end up studying together. sometimes you write names of several flowers on his wrist, while he writes song lyrics on yours. you introduce chenle to many novels and he likes to play the piano for you. sadly, you fail to notice him peeking through the book he’s reading only to watch rays of the sun shine on your face.

in the flower garden, you usually lay next to each other, watching the clouds on the bright sky. every so often, you rest your head on his leg while he runs his hand through your hair. both of you pick up different flowers everyday and take them home. chenle even makes flower-crowns and you put daisies in his shirt pocket. yet, once again, you don’t notice him staring at you while you are busy observing the birds flying in the sky.

nevertheless, you catch sight of a rosiness on his cheeks every time you happen to look in his eyes a little longer than usual.

or how he casually holds your hand while you study in the library, his thumb running over yours.

or how he glances at your lips once in a while, thinking you’re too focused on fixing the collar of his jacket.

you are sure of your feelings for the pianist. however, you are unsure about his feelings. perhaps, he only sees you as a friend? what if you embarrass yourself in front of him? because of this, you decide not to say anything and continue hopelessly spending time with the music student, who you adore more than anything. in a matter of fact, it just makes sense falling for him.

unfortunately, it just seems so impossible to be with him, especially because you are engaged to someone else. chenle doesn’t know about your upcoming marriage with na jaemin and you have no clue when you should tell him.

however, that day comes sooner than you thought it would.

it’s when you both walk home from another study session at the library. before you turn around to leave chenle, you wave at him with a bright smile on your face. yet, it doesn’t take him long to call your name which causes you to turn around. with a questioning face you turn to face him and wait for him to continue.

“i need to tell you something.”

the nervousness on his face is impossible for you to not notice. the way his hands slightly tremble, his ears turning into a red color and him gulping make you worry.

and that’s when you choose to tell him. the moment just seems perfect and if not now, then when?

“me too,” you say,

“i have to tell you something really important.”

“well, then you go first.” chenle rubs his neck while avoiding your eyes.

you draw your mouth into a tin line and press your lips together before taking a deep breath and finally answer,

“i’m engaged to na jaemin.”

of course, you are so overwhelmed and nervous that you fail to notice chenle’s face fall. his stomach drops as he stares into your eyes so deeply.

why would you say that right when he was about to confess?

but perhaps it was better this way. things between you would be very weird, if he confessed his feelings. still, he feels terrible. the girl he has been loving the whole time is engaged to somebody else.

“it was my father’s decision, not mine.” you try to meet chenle’s eyes but he looks away,

“oh, i see. that’s... great? congratulations.”

“what did you want to tell me?” you try to change the topic since you suddenly feel uncomfortable.

“me? ugh-,” the boy in front of you is slightly panicked, attempting to find a possible response,

“nothing important haha.” chenle tries to laugh it off.

you frown, “are you sure?”

he just nods, not able to form the right words.

“alright but i need to tell you something else. i’m aware that this might not be the right time or place, after what i just said, but i just need to tell you-”

right when you want to reveal your feelings for the young pianist, you hear a voice calling his name. his father is calling him, and he has to leave.

“sorry, y/n. see you at the ball.”

the next day you get ready for the dance, which takes place near your academy. in fact, it’s the most important dance out of all of them. pretty much all families are invited, including yours of course. unfortunately, you are aware that parents tend to play cupid in order to bring their children together. in this case, your father puts effort into his appearance and also gives you an expensive dress.

when you finally arrive at the ball your eyes immediately find the man you so hardly fell for. simply he stands there, a drink in his right hand, eyes shining while talking to your friend huang renjun. chenle is wearing a velvet burgundy suit which makes you feel dizzy.

however, during that night, you notice how chenle avoids you. whenever you try to approach him, he finds someone else to talk. whenever you walk towards his direction, he turns around immediately and walks away. now and then you glance at him from distance and when he finally turns his head to your direction and meets your eyes, he looks away in milliseconds.

even so, renjun eventually meets you and it’s his turn to play cupid. right after he greets you with a huge smile, he grabs your arm and leads you to where chenle is currently standing, thankfully alone.

after you both awkwardly greet each other, renjun decides to check on his other friend lee donghyuck. right when you are ready to talk to chenle, suddenly na jaemin shows up in the same room. apart from that people around you start to dance with their partner. it doesn’t take you long to realize that jaemin, your fiancé, is walking towards you.

he wants to dance with me.

your gaze flits around the room, never settling on a person or object for long as you plan an escape in your head. finally chenle decides to speak to you when the young boy notices your nervous behavior,

“what’s wrong?”

immediately you grab onto him, refusing to let go:

“i have to leave. now.”

“what? why?”, chenle watches you with curious eyes until you eventually make eye contact with him.

there is a tightness in your chest when you play with your fingers nervously,

“na jaemin is coming our way because he wants to dance with me. don’t look.”

although you clearly warned chenle so that he could avoid your narcissistic fiance, he still looks behind you curiously.

“i said don’t look!” you speak through your teeth with forced restraint.

“why don’t you dance with him? he’s your fiancé after all.” the pianist only ignores your words, more interested in your feelings for the young man called na jaemin.

“i don’t want to dance with him because i don’t like him. it’s my dad’s decision, not mine. remember?”, you sigh while looking for a way to escape.

“then dance with me.”

all of the sudden chenle’s right hand grabs your waist, pulling you really close to him. after that his other hand takes yours which makes you let out a small gasp. with confusion your eyes widen, not believing the situation you find yourself in. nervously, you gulp when he looks down to you with a small smirk on his face. instantly your cheeks turn a darker shade of red, eyes not leaving his beautiful dark ones. chenle’s hands on your body make the butterflies appear in your stomach once again, your heart races and you aren’t exactly bothered by the familiar feeling until you notice your surroundings.

all the guests in the room are focused on you both, whispering to each other with surprised faces. even the couples dancing are shocked by zhong chenle dancing with y/n, who’s already engaged to na jaemin, that they end up stepping on each other’s feet. your fiancé himself is just standing there with an angry expression, eyes not leaving zhong chenle, who dares to dance with you.

“chenle, w-what are you doing?” your tongue gets tangled when you attempt to whisper.

he shrugs, “i want to dance with you.”

your right hand holds into his shoulder while the other one squeezes his hand,

“everyone is watching us. are you sure this is a good idea?”

“they’re just jealous you’re dancing with the most handsome man in the room.”

chenle’s sudden change in behavior makes you frown and step on his foot intentionally. however, he only tightens his grip on your waist and pulls you even closer as you continue to dance with each other,

“oh. is this better?”

the feeling of his soft hands on the fabric of your dress makes your skin tingle. how could he pull you close to him so easily?

the music plays in the background when you are too focused on his face, now only a few inches apart from yours. you have difficulty focusing on your steps due to the sudden lightheadedness which leads you to stumble and step on chenle’s foot once again.

he smirks, playfully shaking his head: “you want me even closer?”

your eyes widen when he bends down to whispers in your ear,

“we’re in public, y/n.”

you think it’s the end for you when you feel his warm breath on your neck which makes your heart nearly explode in your chest but he just looks into your eyes deeply, his lips forming a smile when he notices the rosiness on your cheeks,

“do i make your heart flutter?”,

he only chuckles at your cuteness, completely unaware of your feelings for him.

“you wish.” you manage to say after clearing your throat, your eyes now on the people dancing around you.

after that he spins you around just to catch you in his arms again: “i wish.”

at that exact moment, when you both stare into each other’s eyes deeply with love and attraction, everything and everyone around you seems to disappear. all at once the music in the background, the sound of people laughing and the people themselves stop existing. chenle holds you in his arms, his grip on your waist tightening even more, his face really close to you. there’s a fluttering in his stomach when his gaze falls on your soft, rosy lips. you do the same when you notice his eyes on your lips and none of you dare to say anything. yet, you blink a few times before deciding to express your feelings for the pianist,

“chenle, i-”

out of the blue na jaemin dares to interrupt you and the popular zhong. swiftly he pulls you out of chenle’s grip by grabbing your arm. surprised by his sudden actions, you watch jaemin glare angrily at the boy in front of him, hand not letting go of your arm.

“what do you think you’re doing, zhong?”, jaemin speaks carefully in a controlled tone, trying to remain calm. however, you don’t fail to notice his fist pounding against his thigh lightly.

“who are you to tell me what to do?” chenle laughs annoyed.

“i’m her fiancé, you asshole.”

“then maybe you should ask your fiancée what she thinks of you. i bet you already know, right? things can’t always go your way, jaemin-ssi.”

after snapping at him, chenle pulls you ouf of jaemin’s grip and leads you out of there.

it is your wedding day. although you could never believe that in the end of the day you’ll have to get married to a complete stranger, you now observe yourself in front of the mirror, hair falling down your shoulders perfectly, make-up done, pearls around your neck and the heavy dress on your body. you absolutely hate your reflection, your eyes still puffy from crying the previous night. the soreness in your throat makes you feel even more uncomfortable. nonetheless you have to marry na jaemin in a few minutes.

after chenle left the ball with you, he confessed his feelings for you. therefore, you told him about your feelings as well. that moment was incredibly magical to you, yet also quite stressful. needless to say, you talked about your engagement with the other male and chenle told you to not worry about it. he told you that he would certainly find a way. however, unfortunately, nothing happened till your wedding day. you both met each other secretly now and then, sharing kisses in the neglected library when chenle played the piano but got distracted by you.

by all means you enjoyed spending time with your lover but had to admit that you got more worried every day. zhong chenle promised you he’d never leave you but now you enter the big room, where people watch you walk towards the other side of the room. you want to cry, run away, scream. how could chenle just leave you like this?

right when you are about to take jaemin’s hand and give in, the gates suddenly open which catches everyone’s attention. there he is, completely out of breath from the running, eyes looking for yours. soaked from the heavy rain, he runs his hand through his wet hair. your eyes widen when he runs towards you. the guests gasp as he reaches for your hand and stares into your eyes deeply,

“come with me, y/n.”

not knowing what do, you raise your eyebrows and continue looking at the young man in front of you. before your father can burst out in anger, chenle swiftly grabs your arm and starts running. you hear everyone in the room gasp and panic, na jaemin calling your name several times. nevertheless, you run away with your lover, nearing the huge gates which lead to an exit. while rushing towards his horse, your long dress gets dirty from all the rain.

“you came!”, you manage to say with excitement, while running.

“of course i came! i told you i’d never leave you!”

“what are we doing now?”

“we’re running away from here, love. i know i-” chenle trails off for a moment, still breathless from running the whole time,

“i haven’t talked to you about this but you have to trust me. i planned everything. is that okay with you?”

chenle jumped on his horse and offers a hand to you. eventually you nod without thinking twice and get on the horse.

before you both leave, he turns around to you slightly, his eyes staring into yours with so much love before his hands caress your face. your hurt flutters when his lips touch yours, your eyes closing immediately. breaking the kiss, he tucks your hair behind your ear,

“i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too, chenle.”

and you both head towards north, where you live happily ever after.

163 notes · View notes

ybangtannies · 4 years ago

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Hi, good luck with your blog! I've just discovered it and I can't wait for your content. As for request... I would like to read about artist Tae where MC is dared to pose nude and Tae fall in love with her, or MC having a bf so she pose nude as a present for him but Tae (obssesed) blackmail her whereas he will show her picture to the public if she don't leave her bf...

Hello! Thank you so much for your request and sorry for taking long to answer, I had a lot of ideas of what to write so it took me a little to actually get to write it but here it is! I changed it a little, I hope that’s okay and you like it.

Masterlist

Word count: 3.3k

Taehyung has been an artist for several years, he started up by taking photos of landscapes he thought were pretty and painting simple things until he got where he is now: one of the most claimed painters of the country; he still likes photography and keeps painting nature sceneries but the reason why he is so famous and well-known is because of his portraits, his nude portraits. He doesn’t just paint whoever is willing to pay him, though, he just accepts if he finds the person to be worth it of both his time and his eyes, at the end of the day, who would like to look at an ugly naked body, having to memorize it and then paint it as if it was something beautiful? People call him arrogant, a snob, frivolous…and well, maybe he is but look at where that got him so he’s not complaining nor he’s about to change it. He’s an artist so who can be better than him to judge what is art and what is not?

It’s been a rough week, not even one out of all the people that has been going to his studio was worth his time and he’s worried that maybe somehow, he has already painted all the beautiful people in the whole country. That worrisome dispels one evening when he is about to leave his studio and call it a day and you appear at his door; you with a shy smile and so much light in your eyes, you dressed in a casual outfit but still showing that you put effort into looking good (not that you really needed to put much effort though), you that speaks in such an angelic voice and calls his name in the sweetest tone he has ever heard before.

“Hello, is this Vante’s studio?”

“Yeah, it’s- that’s me, yes”. He finds himself at a loss of words, something that never ever happened to him, normally it would be the opposite and he would be the one making people not be able to speak even a simple phrase when in his presence. He swallows and thinks about how his hyungs would mock him if they saw him like this.

“Uhm, can I come in? I would like to talk to you about a possible job?” You are looking at him expectantly and he gets lost momentarily in your eyes once again until he is finally able to get a hold of himself and move to the side you could come in.

You smile brightly and move inside his studio while he closes the door and takes a deep breath in hopes of clearing his mind enough to be able to attend your request how you deserve.

“So, what is it that I can do for you, beautiful?”

You stop looking at the numerous paintings and sculptures that occupy his studio and turn to look at him with a light blush adorning your cheeks.

“I would like for you to paint a portrait of me…naked”, you say the last word in a whisper, so low he wouldn’t have been able to hear it if it wasn’t for the place being totally silent.

Taehyung looks at you from head to toe, out of reflex, with curiosity and maybe already imagining you naked, totally exposed for his eyes only. When he finally moves his eyes to your face, he takes pride in seeing the blush in your cheeks is now more noticeable than before.

“Of course, love, it would be pleasure. For when do you want it?”

“Oh, really? That’s a relief, I heard you were quite…refined when choosing your clients… so I was a little hesitant if you would accept my offer, I’ve been a fan of your work for some years now, I really love the way you portray the beauty of the people you paint and don’t even get me started with you sculptures, sometimes it feels like they’re actual people looking at you with how rough their emotions are- oh God! I’m sorry I’m rambling, I’m just pretty nervous and excited about finally meeting you and- I’m doing it again, am I not? I’m so…”

“No, please, stop apologizing. It’s okay, it’s really cute, you can keep praising me”. Taehyung smirks at you, he looks amused at your spur of compliments and your opinion on his art. He really wasn’t one for hearing people praise his works or him for they more than not did it with the purpose of getting in his pants but there’s something about the way you talked…it drives him crazy, he wants to keep listening to you talk for hours on end. “And yes, you’re right about the part of me being refined when I decide who I want to paint and that’s exactly why I accepted your offer, you’re exquisite yourself, I would be a fool to reject you, love.” He can’t stop himself, it’s like he doesn’t have any filter and just says everything that comes to his mind, or almost everything.

“Thank you then, Vante.”

“Taehyung, please, that’s my actual name.”

“Okay, Taehyung,” you smile once again and he feels his heart skip a beat, “and answering your question: I’d need to portrait for the end of the month? That’s when my boyfriend’s birthday is, and I want it to be a gift for him.”

Boyfriend.

A fucking boyfriend.

Taehyung’s posture becomes stiff and the smile on his face falls a little, not enough for you to notice, though, but he can feel rage starting to form on his body. So, you’re not for his only it seems, but a lot of things can change in three weeks, right?

“That’s completely okay, we’ll have to meet quite a lot, though, for me to be able to have it on time. I hope that’s not a problem?”

“Not at all. But I thought I would only need to come for a couple of sessions and then you would finish the portrait on your own?”

“I like having the model in front of me from the beginning until the end of the process, so I can fully portray their emotions when posing and their bodies just the way they are.”

Lies.

All lies.

He’s actually very quick with his works, needing only two weeks on top to have them done and obviously he doesn’t need the model to be there the whole time. It’s all bullshit but you don’t need to know that.

“Ah, I understand. I like that, you’re so dedicated with your work. So when can we start, then?”

“That I am, love. Tomorrow works for you? The sooner, the better. I’ll probably need you to come thrice a week.”

“Sure, that works for me, sounds perfect. So tomorrow in the morning, at eleven o’clock?” You look so cute, so beautiful, so eager to start working on it and Taehyung finds himself with a bittersweet taste in his mouth at the thought, of course he is dying to see you naked but he doesn’t want to paint you for your boyfriend. “Oh, and what about the prize?”

“Sounds good. And don’t worry about the prize now, we’ll get to that when I have your portrait completely done.”

You nod your head, smiling kindly at him and start walking towards the door. Taehyung follows you, once again checking you out and damning your boyfriend in his mind for being able to call you his when the fucker is sure not worth even of your time. He’d like to make any excuse to keep you for a longer time there with him, just talking about your lives and getting to know each other but he has three weeks to do that and right now he needs to make an urgent call.

Right before you’re about to leave, he asks for your phone number in case something comes up and any of you have troubles making it to one of the appointments. Bullshit once again but now he has a way to contact you.

Taehyung closes the door and presses his forehead against it, breathing deeply and already tracing a plan in his mind to make you his, as you should be. You’re ethereal, a goddess and you truthfully belong by his side. With that thought in mind, he takes his phone and dials a number. The person at the other end of the call answers almost instantly.

“Yeah, Tae? What is it?”

Taehyung smiles hearing the voice of his friend.

“Hey, Jimin. I need you.”

The next days are a complete blur for both of you and Taehyung and before you notice it’s already been three weeks and the birthday of your boyfriend is upon you.

As Taehyung said, he asked you to visit him thrice a week and made you stay with him from morning until almost night; the first times it was a little awkward for you: getting there, disposing all your clothes and just posing for hours on end naked in front of Taehyung with barely any words shared in between you both. Taehyung made a huge effort in being as slow as he could when painting you, paying an excruciating attention to every curve of your body, touching you here and there (maybe more than he really needed to, but who can blame him? You’re precious) and obsessing over you to limits he didn’t think was possible. Taehyung finally got you to open to him, to start talking about your life, your job, your stupid boyfriend, your passions. Everything, he made you talk about every single aspect of your life and by now he probably knew you better than your own mother. You eventually started eating with him at his studio and surprised yourself spending more time than you should with clothes than without them.

Finally, the last day arrived, Taehyung had finished your portrait and needless to say, it was absolutely perfect. You could recognize yourself, of course, but were still astonished at how pretty he made you look, all your curves were so soft, you never knew someone would look at you and see that. But Taehyung did, he was more than proud of his work for it was by far the best of his large collection; he doesn’t think he was able to truly make you justice, you were way too stunning to actually portray that in a simple painting but it was pretty close to the real thing.

And so, your paths separated. You gave your boyfriend the portrait and he loved it, everything was fine in your life and you were happy, sometimes you got messages from Taehyung asking about your day and the opinion of your boyfriend on the painting but that’s it.

On the other hand, Taehyung was miserable. He misses you terribly. As he suspected, he hasn’t been able to accept any requests for more portraits, too captivated with the memories of you and your body still fresh in his head. But he had a plan to make you come back to him again, he just needed to be patient, just a little more.

And it’s been almost two weeks when, in the middle of the night, he receives a phone call with your name and the first thing he hears when answering is your sobbing and incoherent words. Taehyung smirks, fully awake now, sitting in his bed. He tries to calm you, acting worried and asking what is that has you in such distress. He’s able to make out the words ‘boyfriend’, ‘fight’, ‘photos’ and you asking if you can go to his house. Taehyung accepts almost immediately, getting out of bed so he can get dressed and go pick you up. You reject his offer, explaining that you need time to clear your head and the walk will help you; he doesn’t have any option that agrees even if the idea of you walking alone at three in the morning doesn’t appeal to him at all.

Twenty minutes later, Taehyung is in his kitchen making some tea when he hears a soft knock on his door and smiling cheerfully goes to open you. His smile, though, disappears the moment he sees you: you’re no longer crying but your eyes are red and puffy, and your hair is a complete mess. He is quick to hug you and puts you as close to his body as he can, trying to comfort you at the best of his abilities.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, everything will be fine.” You just stand there in his arms, letting him hug you, with your eyes closed and hearing the softness in his voice, helping you calm your nerves just a little. “Do you want some tea while you tell me what happened?”

You just nod your head and follow him through his apartment, not really paying much attention to your surroundings. Your mind is racing and your hands clutching an envelope against your chest with such strength that your knuckles have turned white.

“Here you go, love”, says Taehyung while offering you a cup of tea. You whisper a simple ‘thank you’ before taking a sip, still grabbing the envelope with one hand. “Do you want to talk now?”

Taehyung sees you struggling, he can almost hear the gears in your head moving and how you are trying to find the words to speak so he stays quiet, giving you all the time of the world until you’re ready to start talking. After what seems like hours for you, you are able to raise your eyes from the table and search for his eyes though you can maintain the look for more than three seconds before your eyes are fixed again on the table.

“I… I’m sorry I’m breaking into your house at this hour, but I didn’t know where else to go or who to call but you...”You look at Taehyung again and see him already looking at you intently, making you swallow and taking another sip of your tea. “My boyfriend received this envelope this morning, he confronted me when I got home from work in the evening and started calling me names and saying not so nice things to me. He- he broke up with me, didn’t even let me explain anything and just started throwing things and he broke the portrait and kept screaming at me, not giving me any chance to talk and then he… he kicked me out of our apartment.”

At this point you were already crying again, and Taehyung can feel his heart shattering into million pieces by seeing you so sad and broken. He cursed your boyfriend, now ex, in his mind and with a worried frown got next to you in order to be able to hold you in his arms again. He was already addicted to the feeling of your body pressed to his, feeling the warmth radiate from you and realizing just how perfect you fit against his figure. He can’t let you go. Never.

“Sh, deep breaths, baby, okay? Breath slowly for me, calm down.” He rubbed your back, feeling you grabbing his t-shirt like your life depended on it and Taehyung absolutely loved that idea.

Some minutes pass by, you trying to calm your sobbing, and Taehyung whispering sweet nothings against your head.

“Can you tell me what the argument was about? What is in that envelope that made your boyfriend so mad?” Taehyung finally asks after you managed to stop crying, he puts some distance between your bodies, enough to see your face and still keeps his arms around your waist.

“It’s… there are photos inside…of us. Of me, naked in front of you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Taehyung, I don’t know how this happened. I can’t comprehend how someone managed to take those disgusting pictures and made it seem as if I was going to sleep with you. And now my boyfriend thinks I’m a whore that cheated on him and he blocked my number and won’t open the door to the apartment, and I don’t know what to do.”

Taehyung keeps silent, thinking about what you just said and turning his gaze to the envelope that now remains on the table. He looks back at you as if asking if he can take a look himself and you just nod softly, not being able to look at him while Taehyung takes it and proceeds to see the photos.

Indeed, they led you to think that something was about to happen in between them, there are plenty of photos of you taking your clothes, smiling at him while naked, moving around his studio in just a shirt, and so on. All of them were taken from the street, from outside and all of them have a clear purpose: destroy both his and your lives.

“Has anyone seen them apart from you and your boyfriend? Are there more copies?”

“No, not that I know at least.”

“I really hope you’re right. We can’t let anyone see these, okay? We have to destroy them.”

Taehyung is serious when talking, looking a little distressed himself and you feel even worse about dragging him with you in this mess.

“I know… I’m really sorry this is happening, Taehyung. I never thought someone would follow me and take those photos, and I’m sorry this is involving you too.”

Taehyung frowned a little at your words, you thought someone could have followed you? For him, it would make more sense to be the other way around: a person he rejected or one of the multiple girls he fucked and never called again trying to mess with him now, trying to ruin his career by making it seems as if he wasn’t professional enough and couldn’t help but getting in the pants of his clients. It could potentially ruin him, no one would ever trust him enough to paint another portrait if those photos see the light of the day.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart, please stop apologizing. I’m sorry if I was a little harsh, I wasn’t expecting this to happen at all, I’m sorry. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Thank you so much, Tae. I truly cannot go to anyone else; all my friends are my boyfriend’s friends as well and I don’t think they’ll take my side on this.” The look on your face, so lost and troubled make him feel almost guilty about the whole situation.

“I understand, love. You can count on me, okay? You can stay with me here in my apartment if you want to, I have enough space.”

“Really? Could I?” Your facial expression changed to be one of relief that makes Taehyung heart jump in his chest and smile at you lovingly while caressing your cheek.

“Of course, love. You can stay here for as long as you want, nothing would make me happier than that. Come, you’ll have to sleep in my bed tonight, though, tomorrow I’ll tidy the room that would be yours.”

You nod in his direction, letting a yawn escape your mouth that almost makes Taehyung coo at you. He guides you to his bedroom, and searches for some clothes he can give you for you to change into. The thought of you dressed in his clothes, in his bed causes him to have problems keeping his breathing stable. While you are in the bathroom, Taehyung takes his phone to write a quick message.

Thank you so much, Jimin. It worked perfectly.

Right when he presses the send button, you enter his room again looking shyly in his direction with a sleepy expression. Taehyung locks his phone and smiles at you, guiding you both to his bed.

You reach out to him, asking for permission to hug him since you’re used to cuddle with something when sleeping and he doesn’t need to think twice until having his arms around you, your head pressed to his chest. He looks at the ceiling, feeling totally content with how things developed, sighing slightly when looking down and seeing you fast asleep already. The screen of his phone lights up but he pays it no mind, closing his eyes and falling asleep with you.

Anytime, Tae. Enjoy your prize ;).

#yandere taehyung #yandere bts #yandere hoseok #yandere jimin #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere #bts #yandere au #taehyung au

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yelenasdog · 4 years ago

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my girlfriend is a witch (spencer reid x witchy! fem reader)

INSPIRED BY THE SONG “My Girlfriend Is a Witch” BY October Country

genre: fluff w like maybe two seconds of angst

summary: he could feel she was hiding something, but she didn’t mean for him to find out like this.

words: 2.6k

warnings: i cannot think of any for the life of me other than crying. also, disclaimer at the end of fic.

a/n: pls listen to “my girlfriend is a witch” by october country and “john barleycorn (must die)” by traffic, while u read. i’ve been meaning to get this fic out for ages, so i hope this is good! enjoy lovies!

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

It was hot, humid, and sticky under the Malibu sun.

Rubber soles from both boots and sandals alike, most likely the cheap ones you can buy at any tourist-targeted shops surrounding the vacationer heavy area, stuck to the asphalt streets, leaving a sticky tar in its wake.

SSA Y/n Y/l/n was not a fan, to put it lightly.

Her arm hung limp against her forehead as she leaned back against the black leather seats of the car she resided in, the material burning her bare arms. Literally.

And even if she were to be exaggerating, she still strongly felt that welts would be left where she had placed her limb for far too long.

She long ago had abandoned her blazer in the backseat of her vehicle due to the excruciating heat, the cotton material feeling heavy on her arms, so she turned up the AC with one hand, while slicking back the baby hairs that had managed to fall onto her forehead with the other. It was graced with beads of sickly sweat, not unlike the rest of her body.

Some repetitive song played on the stereo that she couldn’t quite figure out how to operate in the outdated FBI issued vehicle she was using, adding to her annoyance of what seemed to be to no end.

The unfortunate ride was the result of her normal vehicle being in the shop, and rather than pay for a rental, she took whatever was left in the garage, however horrible it may be.

After sitting in hours of tiresome traffic, enduring the aforementioned reptititive song, and the entire John Barleycorn Must Die album later, (hey, it was in the glovebox, and it beat whatever had been on the radio) she finally had arrived at her destination.

She stepped out of the car, huffing at the sight in front of her. She took her black RayBans off, sliding them into her pocket of her slacks before slamming the silver door. Y/n then winced at the cracking sound that rang out. She walked forward, not wanting to look at the damage she had caused.

“That’s coming out of my paycheck.” She muttered, chewing on her chapped bottom lip, feeling the sting shoot through her nerves.

The door to the PD office she had been approaching swung open by a very frustrated officer. He breezed past her and she leaned back, placing a hand onto the warm concrete of the establishment behind her. She barely was missed by him in all his rage.

Y/l/n squinted her eyes, the rays of light clouding her vision. She began to regret taking her glasses off earlier, but disregarded the thought and continued into brick building.

The first person that she saw when she entered was the local sheriff. He was medium build, bald, and there was a bright grin that covered his face, far too bright for the current atmosphere, in her humble opinion.

“Ah, Agent, It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She reached forward offering a self-manicured hand, still slightly sweaty from the car ride.

“Pleasure’s all mine. So,” she began, walking over to where the rest of the team was examining what seemed to be a yellowed piece of parchment.

“What are we looking at?” She questioned, doing her best to get a look at whatever it was at the center of attention.

Almost like clockwork, or perhaps like a dog who was able to sense their favorite person arriving home, Spencer appeared from the back of the precinct, coffees in hand.

He passed the one is his right hand to his girlfriend, leaning forward for a kiss on the cheek that Y/n had almost ignored. She rolled her eyes at the needy man, muttering “thank you, Spencer” In a sarcastic tone, placing a quick peck on his cheek. He pouted, and she rolled her eyes once more.

As she walked forward and took a sip of the hot drink, the rest of the BAU parted, allowing her to observe the sheet. After looking at it for a few moments, she spoke up, her words overlapping with Hotch’s.

“We have no idea what it is, Penelope did a search and couldn’t find anything of use, it doesn’t translate to anything-“

“These are runes and glyphs. Horribly written, not by someone who’s an expert in the craft. The corner of the page looks like there’s-“ she paused, leaning forward. Her eyes slimmed, scanning over the page, the necklace around her neck dangled, catching Spencer’s eye.

“Yeah, this looks like a sigil. If you give me some time I could try to work out what it was for.”

She looked up, meeting the confused glancing of everyone, including her boyfriend. Prentiss was the next to speak, albeit very cautiously.

“Alright, well, do you have any ideas about what the other symbols mean?”

“Off of the top of my head?” She turned towards the paper once more, “To reiterate, this person mixed multiple different kinds of glyphs, so it might be difficult to collectively translate them, but so far I’m getting life, death-“

“Very original of them.” Morgan joked, resulting in a smile and the signature eye roll of Y/n.

“Power, fear, balance. That’s the first line.”

“Reid, are you writing that down?” Aaron questioned. Spencer nodded, not even looking up from his clipboard where he was writing the info. “Y/n, continue.”

She bobbed her head once, bringing her attention back to the 2nd line. She was silent for a bit, at one point grabbing around for a sticky note and pen. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she was carefully handed one by a reluctant Spence.

Everyone watched in amazement, amusement, and a little bit of confusion, as she wrote on the paper, scribbling what looked like nonsense next to some dates. After what seemed like hours (but was really just minutes) she pulled away, looking towards her significant other.

“When were all the victims killed?”

“September 29th, November 6th, November 9th, and that’s it.”

“And how did each of the victims thus far die?”

Hotch cut in, his arms crossed and his glance careful. “How are you certain there will be more killings?”

She ignored him, turning to Reid.

“Reid, how did they die?”

“First victim, stab wound, 2nd victim drowned, 3rd victim-“

“Burned alive?”

As this was the first time she had been made aware of the case (she had been attending to other business back in Quantico and had to fly commercial with no wifi, meaning no access to Penny to catch her up), her knowledge bewildered them greatly.

Seeing their concern spread on their faces, she picked up the photocopy, bringing it to where they were huddled. She stood in the center, pinky pointing and following along with what she was speaking of.

“This symbol here,” she pointed, making sure she held everyone’s attention”, is a rune for “New Moon”. She then went on to describe how each of the days correspond with the Moon phases, as well as the matching rune and glyphs left on the page.

“I still don’t understand how that explains more killings?” Spencer spoke, his usual high IQ seemingly not working, a problem he had whenever he was around his beloved.

She walked over to him and smiled, shaking her head. She then explained the rest of the runes in detail, how they each had a meaning that applied to the way they were killed, and how there was still one more moon phase left and one more element as well.

The pair was separated once more as Spencer nodded in understanding, his mouth left agape. She admired him for a brief moment, the way his eyes were like large stones of sparkling tiger eye, his lips the color of a rose.

Interrupting her, Hotch pulled her into a meeting room where Morgan was already waiting. Spencer stared, following her movements.

“Spence? Let’s go work on the geographical profile?” Emily asked, already on her way. He nodded, slanting his eyes briefly through the blinds of the glass. He blinked a few times, feeling like grains of sand had sunk to his waterline. He shook his head like a wet dog, ridding blooming thoughts from his mind, then continuing on from where he stood, doing his best to turn his focus elsewhere completely.

Meanwhile, Hotch was questioning her, Y/n’s knowledge about how the runes and glyphs themselves were written coming in handy for what that meant about the unsub, as well as building a profile. She was surprisingly educated on the subject, which the unit chief had decided to ignore all together, staying focused on the case.

By the end of the work day, the profile was ready to be delivered, she had figured out the presumably intended use of the sigil, and the geographic profile was nearly finished.

Satisfied with the day's work, she happily bid her goodbyes and exited the horribly boring meeting room, finding Spencer waiting by the door, coffee still in hand. He looked around the area, his eyes wandering over the portraits that hung on the walls of former officers.

“Spence, you ready?” She quipped, taking the coffee out of his hand and taking a sip. Spencer huffed, taking it back from her and throwing it away, no longer craving the warm beverage once it had touched her lips.

Spencer nodded, wrapping a hand around her waist and starting the long walk to the SUV from the building. They were quiet for most of the miniature journey, listening to the chirps of the cicadas, and the hot summer wind blowing in the branches of the palm trees. Y/n hummed quietly, finding herself in a peaceful state as she walked along with Spencer.

Spencer, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. His mind was running, trying to process the day’s happenings.

As maybe it was the obsidian that hung around her neck on a sterling silver chain, or perhaps the selenite she kept on her desk and the amethyst she made Penny keep in her batcave, claiming they were “just very pretty!”

It could have been the way she was seemingly always busy on full moons, or even the peculiar deck of “playing cards” that she keeps in her 2nd drawer of her desk, pushed far to the left.

Not to mention the jars of seemingly normal water that he wasn’t allowed to drink from or empty, and the odd combinations of what seemed to be shapes and letters that she had stitched on the inside of Spencer’s satchel (it took quite the convincing, but to her it was seemingly important, so he allowed it reluctantly).

Possibly most convincing of all was the events of the day, her enlightenment on the subjects at hand leaving an uneasiness in the genius’ stomach.

Spencer wasn’t sure how he couldn’t have figured it out sooner.

His girlfriend was a witch.

The realization made him stop suddenly in his tracks, causing her to briefly trip over her own feet. She gave him a conflicted look, concern also present within the glance.

“Spencer? What’s wrong, are you alright?”

He opened his mouth and then shut it again, whatever he had to say not completely ready to be put out in the world. He simply made a line with his lips before continuing on, leaving her where she stood. She cocked her head, confused noises leaving her throat.

She jogged to catch up with the man, his long legs making him walk awfully fast. Usually, Spencer would slow down so she could walk beside him in harmony, occasionally holding hands. But as of now, she was struggling to stay in pace with him, and she was beginning to feel fairly annoyed.

“Spencer Walter Reid! What is going on!?”

He looked behind his shoulder, only slowing his pace rather than coming to a complete stop. She managed to fall back into step with him, her gaze never leaving his form.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She bit her tongue, then ran it over her front teeth unaware of what he was referring to. “Tell you what, Reid?”

He shook his head, once more allowing his lips to turn into a straight line, slightly puffing up at his cupid's bow. “You know, about being a witch, or whatever.” He was much quieter when saying the second part of the sentence, his voice quite low.

The statement had shocked Y/n to some degree, but she kept walking, still trying to stay in step with the doctor. She wasn’t quite sure how to go about this, if she should lie and tell him he was being silly, if she should come clean about her “hobbies”. She simply didn’t know.

She decided to just not speak until much later.

It was after the car ride with the rest of the team (which was quite awkward, considering they could tell something was off between the two lovers), and after they both had eaten and showered before getting ready for bed. Y/n was sitting on one twin sized bed, while Spencer was sitting on the other, reading something from his laptop, which was very unlike him.

Y/n on the other hand couldn’t keep her mind off of the question he had asked earlier. I mean, she had an answer, that much was true. But if she wanted to give it to him, she could not bear to decide. She was staring at the cheesy hotel art on the beige wall, heat still radiating in from the open window that was cracked in the first place to combat the lack of AC.

Her gaze never faltered from the painting of the vase of flowers, the colors seemingly muted. She began to speak, slowly, cautiously.

“I didn’t tell you, because I honestly didn’t think you would care. I mean, maybe you would, but I thought that your whole science thing would make you think I was nuts…” She shook her head, looking to the ceiling. She could feel her boyfriend burning holes into the side of her head, staring.

“Although there’s plenty of science to back it up, and even if there wasn’t, science accepts or rejects ideas based on the evidence; it doesn’t-”

“-Prove or disprove them.”

She looked over and met Spencer’s sad hazel eyes, suddenly feeling very, very guilty.

His voice was quiet as a mouse, he was unable to keep eye contact for long, feeling the need to turn away.

“Metaphysics is an interesting form of philosophy that i’ve done a fair amount of research on, and the CIA has done extensive research on astral projection among other things widely considered to be nonsense phenomena, discarded by most otherwise.”

Her heart sunk and sang all at once, an inexplicable emotion rising like the tide, all the way up to her eyes, a tear slipping out and rolling down her cheek.

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. I would have listened, Y/n. I still will, if you care to tell me about it.”

She looked up from the beige comforters of the motel room bed, feeling an almost magnetic pull tugging her towards Spencer. So she stood and he opened his arms, allowing her to find comfort in his embrace.

“I’m sorry Spence.”

“It’s alright, I just want you to know how much you mean to me, Y/n/n. I will respect and handle anything and everything you throw my way, okay? Nothing could change how much I love you.”

She nodded, a muffled “okay” leaving her lips. He chuckled, pulling her closer. They stayed in that position for some time, savouring each other’s warmth. After she collected herself, feeling rejuvenated, she pulled away, a bright grin creeping its way onto her features.

“So,” she smirked, Spencer raised an unruly brow.

“Where do you wanna start?”

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

kinda hate it ngl. but i hope someone out there enjoyed it. for sure not my best writing and it’s a bit confusing but whatever.

DISCLAIMER: my mother and i both regularly participate in metaphysical practices, such as tarot, oracle, the usage of incense and crystals, sigils, spirit guide communication, etc. as well as several practices drawn from hinduism but regularly (and wrongly) culturally appropriated by the west, (chakras, manifestation) while also identifying with and following the methodist faith. i understand and appreciate the origins of it within hinduism, and this is in no way meant to offend anyone whatsoever and is simply for entertainment purposes. no closed practices should be participated in unless invited or born into said practice, and none have been, nor will be. (:

(also ty to roo for educating me on hinduism and how it’s been morphed and appropriated by the west, mwah ur the best)

love u, xx hj

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atinyrabbit · 4 years ago

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love/hate songs

Since 8tracks is messed up and playmoss is gonna disappear and Spotify doesn't have many songs, I’m posting some of my playlists here. This is a list of songs about love/hate relationships for pairings. Enemies to lovers, tsundere personalities, hero/villain couplings, opposites attract, loving someone you know you shouldn't. This list is several years old so the songs are older and kinda ‘scene.’

Major trigger warnings for the lyrics of these songs. Some songs have violent lyrics. This playlist romanticizes conflict.

Song list under read more:

Love to Hate You - Erasure Nicotine - Panic! at the Disco Don't Let It Go To Your Head - Fefe Dobson Your Love Will Kill Me - Daniel Lavoie Bruises and Bitemarks (Remix) - Good With Grenades October & April - The Rasmus feat. Anette Olzon Violator - Son of Rust Sick Amore - El Creepo Disgusting - Ke$ha Dangerous - Depeche Mode Oleander - Mother Mother Fear & Delight - The Correspondents Love is a Suicide - Natalia Kills Sex as a Weapon - Pat Benatar I'd Love To Kill You - Katie Melua Before I Ever Met You - Banks Rent - Pet Shop Boys Helpless When She Smiles - Backstreet Boys Holy - Zolita Strangelove - Depeche Mode I Won't Say (I'm In Love) - Susan Egan Can't Feel My Face - The Weeknd Only You - Ellie Goulding Devil Devil - Milck Livin' In A World Without You - The Rasmus

Hate Love - Adelitas Way Suddenly - Peter Heppner Sick and Twisted Affair - My Darkest Days Radioactive Mirrors - Amazinglyjon Dangerous - Cascada Violence (Club Mix) - Grimes & i_o This Is Love - Air Traffic Controller Make Hate To Me - Citizen Soldier Gently Break It - Beck Pete Portrait of a Female - Cruel Youth This Could Be Love - Alkaline Trio Lie, Lie, Lie - Myra You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi I Only Wanna Be With You - Volbeat Maybe You're Not the Worst Thing Ever - Cast of Galavant I've Got You Under My Skin - Seether Human - Oh Land Le Bien Qui Fait Mal - Mozart, L'Opera Rock Can't Help Falling In Love [Light x Dark Remix] - feat. Brooke Tommee Profitt Fell For You - Green Day Stupid Grin - Dragonette Broken - Lauren Hoffman Take Me to Church - Hozier Super Psycho Love - Simon Curtis Whip - Mr.Kitty Get You Off - Fefe Dobson Crazy Girl - Ke$ha Vice - POP ETC Cannibal - Silversun Pickups Rest in Peace - Original Cast of Buffy The Vampire Slayer Hem of Your Garment - Cake Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge Truth Or Dare - Marianas Trench We Sink - CHVRCHES Gingerbread Man - Melanie Martinez You Stupid Girl - Framing Hanley Die For You - Red F*cking Boyfriend - The Bird & The Bee Mean - Nicole Dollanganger Must Be Crazy for Me - Melissa Etheridge That Girl - Alexz Johnson FMLYHM - Seether Bad Romance - Halestorm Aquarius - Within Temptation Flirt (With Me) - Zeromancer I'm With Stupid - Pet Shop Boys Stop This Song (Love Sick Melody) - Paramore Trying Not To Love You - Nickelback Kill for You - Zolita A Love Like War - All Time Low You Need Me - SWANS Hatef--k - The Bravery Bottled Affection - Cold War Kids True Love - ThouShaltNot Terrible Thing - Ag I Can't Decide - Scissor Sisters Exit Wounds - The Romanovs Gun - Chvrches Every Breath You Take - Chase Holfelder Whole Lotta Love - Smash Mouth Bloodsport - Sneaker Pimps XXX - Imran-C Bitter Rivals - Sleigh Bells Destruction Of Us - Mr.Kitty Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer Love Me Dead - Ludo Paralyzed - The Used River - Bishop Briggs Neon - VERSA Sucker For Pain - Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa & Imagine Dragons I'm Your Villain - Franz Ferdinand Beautiful Monster - Ne-Yo I Own You - Birgit Let Me Be Your Armor - ASSEMBLAGE 23 Perfect Enemy - t.A.T.u. Straight for the Knife - Sia One More Night - Maroon 5 I Hate You (Don't Leave Me) - Ke$ha The Moth - Aimee Mann Mad Love - The Veronicas Toxic (Acoustic Britney Spears Cover) - Johnny Goth Bad Intentions - Digital Daggers Shut Up - Nick Lachey Soldier - Bitter Ruin First Bad Habit - Vanessa Hudgens In The Darkness - Dead By Sunrise Tearin' Up My Heart - *NSYNC You'll Be Back - Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton & Jonathan Groff Crazy In A Good Way - VERIDIA Combat Baby - Metric In Bluebeard's Castle - Unwoman When Doves Cry - Prince State of Seduction - Digital Daggers Whataya Want From Me - Adam Lambert Broken Inside - Broken Iris Murder (feat. Minx, Chilled) - Boyinaband Why Do You Love Me - Charlotte Lawrence Follow You Home - Nickelback Love To See You Cry - Enrique Iglesias Impressed - Natalie Imbruglia Die For You - Megan McCauley Your Kind (Speak to Me) - Danger Radio Tyrant - The Bravery Violent Games - Polica Toxicated Love - NEO Nemeses (feat. John Roderick) - Jonathan Coulton Miserable - Lit Running From My Shadow - The Velvet Teaparty Barricade - Stars Trouble (Stripped) - Halsey Brutal Hearts - Bedouin Soundclash Desire - Meg Myers Sticks And Stones - The Pierces Just the Girl - The Click Five Himerus and Eros - The Spill Canvas Blood - In This Moment I'm Insane - Myah Marie Fiction (Dreams In Digital) - Orgy Whore - In This Moment Monster - Ryan Adames Foundations - Kate Nash Only When I Lose Myself - Depeche Mode Hatchet - Archive The Beginning of the Twist - The Futureheads Change - Deftones Trust Me - Marc Senter Love Me Hate Kiss Me Kill Me (Scndl Remix) - Fukkk Offf Big Bad Handsome Man - Imelda May The Mighty Fall - Fall Out Boy My Obsession - Cinema Bizarre Stitches - Orgy Miss Kiss Kiss Bang - Alex Swings Oscar Sings! Sweet Dreams - Beyonce Fuel To The Fire - The Maine Closer (Nine Inch Nails Cover) - Niki Barr Band Clueless - Orla Gartland Devil Woman - Cliff Richard Hatefuck - Motionless In White I Love You But I Don’t Like You - Molly Moore Overpower Thee - AUF dER MAUR Get Down On Your Knees And Tell Me You Love Me - All Time Low Post Blue - Placebo Genghis Khan - Miike Snow Poison - Alice Cooper I Know I'm A Wolf - Young Heretics Little Toy Gun - honeyhoney I Miss the Misery - Halestorm Dirty Sticky Floors (radio mix) - Dave Gahan Clarity - Zedd I Get A Kick Out Of You - Frank Sinatra I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett and the Blackhearts Die for You - Otherwise Labyrinth - Oomph! Black Black Heart - David Usher I Want to Destroy Something Beautiful - Josh Woodward I'm a Priest - Daniel Lavoie You Need Me - SWANS Afraid of the Dark - Phildel Virus - Ryan Adames I Wanna Be Your Dog (remix) - Emilie Simon Hello Goodbye - The Beatles Sarcasm (Album Version) - Get Scared Use Me - Hinder Poison & Wine - The Civil Wars Pretty When You Cry - VAST Tainted Love - Soft Cell Scream - Avenged Sevenfold Think About It - Danger Radio Gallery Piece - Of Montreal Bang Bang Bang Bang - Sohodolls Little Girls - Say Anything I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace Love Runs Out - OneRepublic Disarm - Smashing Pumpkins Hit Me Like a Man - The Pretty Reckless Bang Bang (feat. Adam Levine) - K'naan Hurts So Good - John Mellencamp Addicted - Kelly Clarkson Whiplash - FEMM Paralyzer - Finger Eleven Crime - Temposhark Misery Loves Company - Emilie Autumn It Was Good for You Too - Marian Call Price Of Company - The White Tie Affair Burn! - Kobra And The Lotus I Love My Lawyer - Ofelia K I Want Blood - empires (I Always Kill) The Things I Love (ft. The Real Tuesday Weld) - Claudia Brucken Misery (Cutmore Radio) - Maroon 5 Fire and Ice - Pat Benatar I Lust You - Neon Neon Pistol Whipped - Marilyn Manson Bitches Brew - Crosses A Formidable Marinade - Mikelangelo And The Black Sea Gentlemen Control - Puddle of Mudd Scary Love - Skye Sweetnam Loveyouhateyou - Sad Robot Untangle Me - Snow Ghosts A Little Taste - Skyler Stonestreet E.V.O.L - Marina and the Diamonds (You're the) Devil in Disguise - Elvis Presley Shut Up & Kiss - Me Orianthi Cool for Chaos - Nostalghia Oyeme - Enrique Iglesias I Hate You - Sick Puppies GirlShapedLoveDrug - Gomez You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk - Pet Shop Boys Need You Like A Drug - Zeromancer Werewolf - Cat Power Bathwater - No Doubt Bad Dog - Neon Hitch Guns And Horses - Ellie Goulding Rev 22-20 - Puscifer Won't You Please Be Nice - Nellie McKay The Perfect Drug - Nine Inch Nails Until The Day I Die - Story of the Year Womanizer - Britney Spears Build Me Up Buttercup - The Foundations I Think I Love You David Cassidy Stalkers - Mindless Self Indulgence Kill Me Every Time - Blue Stahli Preface - FKA twigs Every You Every Me - Placebo Want - Disturbed Spit It Out - IAMX Destroy Me - Mr Kitty My Sweet Prince - Placebo Psycho - Imelda May Monster - Meg Myers Figured You Out - Nickelback Suffocated Love - Tricky Satisfy Me One More Time - Frank Sinatra This Love - Maroon 5 Miss Jackson (feat. Lolo) - Panic! At The Disco Fire and Ice - Pat Benatar Every Other Time Lyte - Funky Ones How Do You Love Someone - Ashley Tisdale Poison - Gin Wigmore Bitter and Sick - One Two The Outsider - Marina & the Diamonds True Love (feat Lily Rose Cooper) - Pink Bad Boy - Cascada Irresistible - Temposhark Painkiller - The Queenstons Born to Die / Russian Roulette - Amazinglyjon Like Sugar - Matchbox Twenty Mad About You - Hooverphonic Stupify - Disturbed Problems - Mother Mother What Is Love - Haddaway Animal - The Cab Marionette - Antonia I Hate You But I Love You - Russian Red Carve A Name - Mother Mother Criminal - Britney Spears Danger - Hilary Duff Fell in Love w/an Android - Simon Curtis Demon Lover - Róisín Murphy Always - Saliva Too Close - Alex Clare Little of Your Time - Maroon 5 Sex and Violence - Scissor Sisters Electric Storm - Delta Goodrem Black widow - Susanne Sundfør Dangerous Kind - Rasmus You've Really Got a Hold on Me - The Miracles Over and Over - Three Days Grace Devour - Marilyn Manson Nature of Inviting - IAMX The Odd Couple - Weezer Hurt Me Harder - Zolita Terrible Love - The National Mad Love - Jojo Boomerang - Reliant K Bad News - Sleeper Agent I Was An Island (EP Version) - Allison Weiss Rock Bottom - Hailee Steinfeld You’re the One That I Want - Lo Fang Poison - Rita Ora Kill For You - Skylar Grey ft Eminem Wouldn't Be Love - Ritual Hate Me - Nico Collins Irresistible - Fall Out Boy I Love You... I'll Kill You - Enigma

#enemies to lovers #fanmix #three days grace #simon curtis #love hate #Playlist

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afy2018 · 4 years ago

Text

My First Love Ch. 1

“I mean, they say that after a while you just forget stuff,” Laura shrugged pulling on her flannel pyjamas, “Do you remember everything, or how does it work with being a vampire?”

Carmilla glanced at Laura and slid under the covers. “I guess whatever I’ve forgotten I just can’t think of.”

Laura nodded and climbed in next to her, cuddling into her wife after turning off her bedside lamp.

Time passed by slowly, but Carmilla just couldn’t sleep. Looking at Laura, she decided to think back on her life, wondering how she even got here, alive no longer under her mother’s thumb. She wondered how true Laura’s theory was. Carmilla didn’t know, nor understand why memories had to fade away. She truly didn’t want to forget anything, but maybe somethings were gone. Carmilla slowly sat up and slipped out of bed, walking to Laura’s basket of old tattered journals and took the least used one, a light brown faux leather book with a metal clasp.

She walked to the kitchen, turning on a light and grabbed a cheap pen from a cup and began to write:

“I don’t want to forget anything, so I think I should start to recount my life before it’s too late. Maybe you’re right, Laura, maybe I’ll forget important things and dates, but I’ll find out while pleasing you adorable curiosity.” She began before explaining her memory.

(1697 Versailles, France)

My first memory was of a Christmas party I went to at the Château de Versailles. It was so large. There were people everywhere and food up and down the tables. Servants were dressed in pure white garments like angels. My parents were already talking with other royals. We were representing Austro-Holy Roman Empire. I felt lost in the hall of mirrors. The crystal chandeliers, that hanged low in the room, glittered and sparkled across the ground as the sun set in the windows and reflected in the tall mirrors painting orange, pink, and red as their temporary wallpaper. I walked around the room, taking time to look at all of the golden statues and mural on the ceiling.

Distracted, I ran into someone.

“I am sorry.” I fervently apologized.

I came face to face with this beautiful woman with grey-blue eyes. She had a strong and fierce look in her eyes. Her hair was pulled tight and had velvet yellow and purple flowers tucked in the back to match the golden and royal purple dress she was wearing. Though even with her impenetrable aura, she looked like she was holding something back.

“There is no reason to look so afraid, madam.” She smiled. “I take no offence.” She took a sip from her glass and glanced around the room. “This must be your first party.”

“It is. Well, my first one outside of Austria.”

“Oh, so you are a representative from the Holy Roman Empire?”

“One of them, my parents are somewhere else.”

“So you are a lost puppy?”

I blushed a deep scarlet and shrugged. “I guess so.”

“My name is Anne Princess of Denmark.”

“Mircalla Gräfin Karnstein of Styria.”

“Now you have met your first friend.”

“I guess I do.”

“I can introduce you to others, play a bit of politics while we are here right?”

“I do not think I should. My parents should be in control of that.”

“Being royal is all about politics.”

“I know, but I still need to learn more.”

“Alright, then I shall help you.” She smiled, walking to a wall. I followed her to and rested against one of the mirror's frames. She pointed to a group of people near the table. “See the royal with brown hair in the red? He is a Duke of Beja from Portugal talking with a Lord of Biscay from Spain. Over by the drinks is almost all of the French Court cornering a Boyar from Russia. Oh my, watch, a Prince from Latvia is making his way to them.”

“How do you think this will...?” I began forgetting the English word.

“Work out? I do not know. We will have to watch.”

“What is their history?”

“Well being on opposite sides of Europe, the biggest problem they have with one another is trading rights, but Latvia and Russia, well, that is something else.”

“Do you think they will make an argument?”

“No, but what happens after tonight is something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, why create gossip in front of everyone and seem… juvenile, when one could simply have a professional fight behind closed doors?”

“You are very wise in royal conduct.”

“Thank you. I have had to be savvy in what I do and say for years now.”

“You speak perfect English, yet you are the Princess of Denmark?”

“I am from England, but married to Prince George of Denmark.” She explained, turning to me with a polite smile, “Your English, it is good but more practice and it will be perfect.”

“Conversational is difficult for me.”

She finished her drink and gave me a quick wink. “If you want some lessons, I could give you a few quick lessons.”

My words were caught in my throat, and I found my head nodding even though I didn’t tell it to do so. She just smiled and took my arm, walking briskly out of the room, taking the wall and slipping past the maids. Down the hall, we walked until we made our way to her chambers. She closed the door behind me and pointed to the chair.

“I will actually help you despite your eyes being the size of the moon and your cheeks red flush as the Duke of Biscay’s clothes.”

“I… I”

“It is okay Mircalla. I am told I have an effect of the Sappho kind.”

“Sappho?”

“She was a Greek poet, popular among the ladies.”

“I have never heard of her.”

“Lost to time and to men.” Anne sighed walking closer, reaching out for me.“But history is for another day. Today is English lessons.”

“What can I practice?”

“You said you have trouble with conversations, we shall practice.”

“Oké.”

“How has your day been?”

“I am good, und you?”

“And.”

“And, the words… they are very close.”

“I am well.” She answered. “How is your land?”

“Great. My people are well… we ehh… our farmers are successful.” I tried.

“Your crops are doing great. Great. Your ‘W’s need the most work.” She shrugged. “Let’s try it.”

“Okay.” I nodded, trying it.

“Don’t bite your lip.”

“Okay.” I tried again.

“Closer.” She sighed. “Here, this might help.” Anne placed her hand on my jaw and pulled my lip down as I made the sound again. “Better, try again.”

“I feel stupid.”

“I know you do. Now try again.”

I nodded and made the same sound earning a nod. Glancing at her distance, I stepped closer and tried a word starting with ‘W’.

“Wonderful.”

“Good.”

“Worry,” I said stepping closer.

“Understandable.”

“Whimsical.” I tried standing centimetres away.

“Better.”

“Well?” I whispered.

“Bolder.” She commanded.

I quickly stood on my toes and kissed her, getting pulled in tight. Anne placed her hand on the back of my neck and turned her head to the side. I moaned into her mouth, never having felt this way with any of my betrothed men, but with the future Queen of Britain.

~~~~~~~~~~

(1698 Vienna, Holy Roman Empire)

I remember a lot from that night. The first moment that comes to mind was getting tied into a satin blue dress with dark indigo velvet accents. There were pearls sewn into the collar by a French seamstress. My father couldn’t come, so my mother and I left for Vienna. It was a long and silent ride. I can’t remember why, but my mother chose not to say a word through the four-hour ride.

There is an ingrained memory I have of getting out of the coach and going to the foyer where I found my old friend, Anne. I remember her name being announced by the herald at the top of a staircase.

“Her Royal Highness The Princess Anne of Denmark.” He proclaimed.

I turned around, leaving my mother in the dust to watch her descend from the staircase. I seemed like no one when compared to her. She was a vision in red and magenta silks imported from all over the world. She was married and we’d known each other for years, though that never stopped us. As soon as she escaped the crowd, I pulled her aside.

“Mircalla!” She quietly exclaimed, “I did not know you would attend! If I had I would have worn something else.”

I shook my head with a grin and pulled her into a kiss. She grabbed my hands and pulled them around the back of her neck. I sighed, pulling away and tucked my head into her shoulder.

“I missed you so much.” She chuckled, holding me close. “I have been practicing my German. George thinks I am doing so for talks I may have with William.”

“How is it?” I asked with my strained English accent.

“I do not know, it is a bit embarrassing.”

“I will try not to laugh.”

“Okay. Du bist so hübsch. Sobald wir uns versteckt haben, werde ich deine kleidung abreißen.”

“Just meine dress?”

Anne smirked and placed her lips next to my ear, whispering, “Then you will have a kiss avec la petite mort.”

I felt a searing chill shudder through my body as she finished her sentence, making me chuckle, “Does not really translate, but I still understand.”

Anne pushed me against the wall and began to bunch up my dress, pressing brazen kisses against my pale skin. She wrapped one hand around the back of my neck and held me close. Anne pulled at my collar, pressing warm kisses against my flush flesh, unbuttoning the front and letting it drop to the ground.

“Was ist, wenn uns jemand erwischt?” I gasped out.

“What if someone what?” She asked between kisses.

“Finds us?”

Anne shook her head, biting lightly on my breast. I let out a low groan, the pain cutting through my voice.

She swirled her rough wet tongue around my soft and sensitive-

“Princess Anne? Princess Anne of Denmark?”

“For God’s sake!” She hissed.

“Scheisse!” I seethed having Anne help me tighten everything again.

“Coming!” She called back, kissing my cheek.

“Good day, Anne.”

“Auf wiedersehen, Mircalla.” She whispered leaving with a final kiss.

I watched her escape to the party as I righted myself, tightening the front of my gown before heading back to the party. It was dark already, so I just stuck close to the wall, looking across the hall to the portraits of past occupants. The silence was broken only by the clicks of my shoes and the slight drag of my dress. I found my way to the room with my family name on it. Opening the door, I spotted a figure on the bed.

“Mircalla?” The thin voice asked.

“Ja?”

“I thought you would come by during the party.” They explained. I kept my distance, waiting for them to turn around. “Nothing to say?”

“I know not much English,” I responded. “Who are you?”

They stood up and turned around, a stalking tall woman somehow completely hidden in the dark.

“A shadowy gift.” She purred.

I turned around, but I then felt a rough hand wrap around my arm and tug my close. I was shocked as everything flew by fast. In moments, I was forced up against the bed, looking into the veiled face. She purred into my ear, her mouth a breath away from my neck. She smelled of iron or rust with a strong musk of the forest. I struggled against her grasp, getting slammed back on the bed. She grazed her teeth against my neck, her tongue searching, drawing up and down over one point. I felt my pulse quicken as the assault continued.

Suddenly and violently, she sank her teeth into my neck. My scream quickly dampened as I tasted blood flood into my mouth. Everything spun and faded to black in mere seconds.

~~~~~~~~~~

I opened my eyes to a low lit room. I noticed a dark figure in the corner. I was mistaken in thinking they were the same being that took my life. She neared me, her beautiful dark skin reflecting rays of the sun from the small room. She walked closer, staring down at me.

“Welcome Countess Mircalla.” She greeted. I jutted up, getting held back by her. “My name is Matska.”

“Was stimmt mit mir nicht? My head spins.” I muttered.

“It will be like that for a while.”

“Warum?”

“First, you need to learn English, Mircalla. It’s the language of the future.”

“I only speak some.”

“I will help you.”

“What happened?”

“It is complicated, you were attacked and now you are in hiding.”

“Does my mother know?”

“She believes you are dead, it is for the better.”

“How long was I sleeping?”

“7 months, longer than usual.”

“Was zum teufel?”

Matska sat down next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “I am sorry, they succeed in your assassination.”

“My what?”

“You are no longer human.”

“What?”

“You are a vampire, like me.”

“Ich bin tot?” I asked in disbelief.

“I am sorry. I…”

I pulled away and hid my head in the pillow.

“I will be back.” She whispered.

Once the door closed, I got up and looked at the room. There was a closet and a mirror, nothing else. I walked to the mirror, glaring at the reflection. I was even paler, gaunt, my hair was sleek though, my eyes were a brilliant red. I looked terrifying. The door opened.

“I thought vampires had no...ähm…”

“Reflection, couldn’t be seen in mirrors?”

“Ja.”

“Just myth. I brought some food, here.” Matska gave me a goblet of blood, my first feeding. “You’ll feel better.”

Once I took a sip, a primal hunger took over me and I just engorged on my bloody feast. I licked the cup clean, wiping the blood from my mouth. I glanced at her and handed back the cup.

“When will my eyes turn… back?”

“After your first kill.”

“I… I do not want to kill.”

She nodded and kissed my forehead, leaving the room. “You are not locked in here.”

“Thank you, madam Matska.”

“Mati.” She corrected

~~~~~~~~~~

I had no control at first. She taught me how to change. She taught me my true form and I got to see her in her form as well. She just ran by my side, her dark coat only a shadow of mine. I caught the scent of someone, in it I followed until I saw my first victim. He was short and full of blood. Ripe and unknowing. I pounced on him, sinking my teeth into his back. Mati watched me feast, partaking after I backed away.

She shifted back to her human form and began laughing.

“Now you have had a taste of fun. We should go out more.” She chuckled.

“Is there a catch to you?”

“Not me, but Mother does, yes. Every twenty years we have to sacrifice someone to appease the gods and survive.”

“Is it… worth it?”

“Yes, immortality for a life.”

I don’t know why, but I nodded and went back to feast on my prey. Though if I knew then what I know now, I would have wanted to escape from their grasp and run as far away as I could. Mother turned out to be a depraved woman I should have avoided from the beginning. The century turned and to the world, Countess Mircalla Karnstein had long since passed and now a new ever-changing vampire was rising through society. Her light brown hair was stained and dyed black, her eyes were no longer a joyous brown but a desolate black. I honestly don’t know if I would now recognize my original self. I thought life was easy, hunting and partying, feasting and playing every night. A new gala with new girls, but I was disheartened when 1714 can to be. Mati Mother and I went to Silas where we stayed in a palace surrounded by other creatures. We brought along a young girl, a virgin to sacrifice.

I remember going to the building’s foyer, it was crowded in the basement and outside. I didn’t know where anyone was. I was alone, despite being surrounded by other mythical creatures. Everyone was barely dressed, some people were dancing and drinking, doing hedonistic things to each other and themselves.

“What is such a cute creampuff as yourself doing here, alone, on such a glorious night?” A soothing voice asked in the noise.

I looked up to see this beautiful woman with her stomach bare and very little covering her legs. She had these brilliant green eyes and thin gaunt features almost like death. Her hair was bright blonde and her skin was almost pearlescent. She had such a sinister, but inviting, smile I couldn’t resist.

“I have never been here before… I guess… I guess I just don’t know what to do?”

She held her hand out and smiled down at me. “Then let me show you.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Nanaya.”

“I’m-”

“Mircalla, I know. I know everyone, sweetie.”

I took her hand and she lead me outside where a large bonfire was. Drums and instruments played strong simple beats which created an air of ecstasy that took over my emotions as soon as I joined the pit of dancers. Nanaya placed her hands on my hips and danced. I put my hands on her shoulders. She pulled my hips against her leg, slipping between my thighs.

I felt beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead. The bonfire’s heat and our intimate contact made the world close in on me in a hot blanket that collapsed against my skin.

Nanaya ground my hips down against her leg, bringing her face closer to mine. She looked into my eyes, a grin appearing on her thin lips like a snake about to attack her prey, but I couldn’t pull away. I was completely entranced by her eyes, the music, and the feeling of her hands' firm grip on my hips.

Her grin turned into a malicious smirk and took hold of my skirt, tearing it off and tossing it into the fire, leaving me in my pair of short tight pants.

I don’t remember much of the night, only her eyes. They were just so green. They almost seemed to melt into blue as the night progressed then to a vibrant magenta when the day ended. The moment memories come back is when Mati tore me away from her.

“It was fun while it lasted, buttercup.” She smiled, kissing my hand and let me walked away with Mati.

“Don’t trust the creatures who come here. I usually just hunt. You get this new found energy.”

“What is she?”

“One of the main runners of this, like mother, only worse.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667245/chapters/36394935

#carmilla #Carmilla Karnstein #carmilla fanfic #carmilla fanfiction #laura hollis #Hollistein #matska #LGBT #femslash #wlw #sfw fanfic

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roominthecastle · 4 years ago

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Thank you for taking the time and typing up your reply, @alma37.

Now I get where you were coming from. You are def much more attached to Zoe than I am. You don’t need to produce any other arguments and “I like it better this way” is a perfectly acceptable answer. And while I don’t believe Agatha’s return is completely at Zoe’s expense -- given that she would have died anyway --, I understand the pain of watching a favorite character used as fodder for another one’s story.

You’ve also raised some interesting points and the exact questions I’ve been pondering myself, so I’m gonna take this opportunity to just unload my thoughts here. Please don’t take this as me trying to talk you out of your opinion or preferences bc I don’t wanna do that.

This is mostly just me trying to explain my preferences to myself.

"after Blood Vessel, as much as Dracula liked her, I could not see him and Agatha together”

oh yes, theirs is an infinitely fucked up dynamic, there is no debating that. they are enemies, so murder attempts come w/ the territory, which is not every shipper’s cup of tea and that’s understandable. However, every relationship involving Dracula is fucked up this way by default since he automatically brings his "inclinations” into it. I guess one could write him already “tamed” and w/ less issues but then it wouldn’t really be him. This is a major thing I love about this show, how they are not afraid to portray him as a full-fledged monster who just keeps coming at you w/ a razor smile -- partly bc he literally can’t help himself. He is a predator who -- to once again quote the commentary -- operates w/ a “torturous sense of fairness” that, to me, echoes the amorality you can observe in the animal kingdom: there is no reasoning with a hungry lion once it’s spotted a zebra; it’s in its nature to hunt prey in order to survive. Empathy or morals don’t factor into this basic conduct.

Dracula has this hard-wired primal drive, too. And Agatha points it out early on when she calls him a beast who doesn’t understand the rules governing its behavior but simply follows them. Of course, he has a point, as well, when he claims he’s more than that. He is. Otherwise, he would just be absolved of all the killing he does, which would feel cheap and unjust and would rob his character of all the fun complexities. Underneath the veneer of a sophisticated nobleman there is a beast, and underneath that grotesque (protective) display are human remains and loads of festering mental health issues. But the only person who bothers to look at these layers and how they inform each other is Agatha. Her equally unyielding drive for knowledge & understanding is the power that allows her to counter him, exert control over him, and tap into his deformed human core in a way nobody else has ever been able to. She does this to save others from him but also to satisfy her own dark fascination, and in the process I think she also comes to feel for him. They reach a level of intimacy that makes this outcome inevitable, imo.

This, in my eyes, makes her pretty much the only person who has any chance at having a more meaningful relationship w/ him that lasts longer than his feeding time. This is also what comes across in Dracula’s indirect advice to Zoe: if she hopes to match him, she will need to conjure Agatha from his blood. He essentially gives her the key to his own destruction (which is also his way out), then retreats and waits. This has the same self-regulating vibe as him convincing himself that his immense supernatural power has ordinary loopholes like needing an invitation to enter or the sunlight. Shame is a control tactic and self-shaming is a form of self-control, albeit a very problematic one. He puts in checks and balances which you wouldn’t do unless deep down you knew you needed to be “checked and balanced” by someone who’s willing to take on the thankless task. He cannot do it, he can’t face himself (he literally smashes mirrors and turns from every reflective surface), but Agatha is willing and able to drag him back into the light.

This is why the parallel to Petruvio & his wife works so well. The design to Dracula’s mind (and therefore the way out) is scattered across time and many myths. Agatha collects these and uses them to lead him out of the prison he’s made for himself, which has its visual parallel in the maps being hidden inside the wife’s portrait.

In other words, I cannot see Dracula with anyone else long term since he sees everyone else as a toy and/or a prey -- a means to an end. That’s how he sees Agatha at first, too, and it takes some time for him to realize that he made a mistake. This delayed realization can also be attributed to his bestial drive that has subdued the rest of him for so long, he really cannot cut through its wiring on his own; he came to exist to continue his existence, and the pointless circularity of this is the biggest trap: despite leaving loopholes, he’s still a prisoner of his own hunger & shame. Feeling for others would make it infinitely more painful but shedding empathy only provides a temporary release. Still, life lived solely for oneself is never fulfilling no matter how long it stretches forward, and the insatiable hunger Dracula feels gels nicely w/ this.

It’s Agatha who breaks the circle when she makes him confront the human origin of all this mess. Once she gets through to him, once she makes him remember, we can witness what Mofftiss call the “beginning of morality” and empathy seeping back into Dracula, and his existence takes on meaning when he chooses to sacrifice his immortality to take away her mortal pain. To me this feels like a direct call-back to the scene where he asks her if she is willing to die to save that terrified child and she tells him she would die to save any terrified child bc “there is a nobler purpose to my life than simply prolonging it.” But Dracula only comes to feel this nobler purpose where Agatha is concerned (baby steps :). He still doesn’t care about anyone else but that could be a juicy problem to tackle next season if there is one. *crosses fingers*

“they needed Agatha to stay human until the end of TDC - but, in that case, why bring her so late in the episode?”

I’m afraid only the writers can answer this one. But my best guess is that there are other characters from the novel -- Lucy especially -- they wanted to play with a little. Since I like them, too, and like how they planted them into this modern setting, I have no problem w/ Agatha taking her sweet time resurrecting. This was also a nice way to show just how bored & lost Dracula is in her absence (side note: him using Tinder as a takeout menu + complaining that he has to exercise now that everything is delivered and doesn’t have to be hunted down will never not be hilarious AF). I have seen a few fans complain about the pacing of ep 3 but I think it provides a nice, strategic contrast to the more dynamic previous episode, again highlighting why Agatha’s presence in his life was so invigorating and how her absence is the opposite -- he is a 500-year old warlord yet his life is now somehow... banal bc he has no worthy match.

“If he really want Agatha so badly, and since Zoe doesn’t come after him (she has other things in mind, understandably), why does he not? To see if his little ply worked? If his dear Agatha is back? The only time Renfield talks about Zoe, Dracula doesn’t seem remotely interested.”

I think he is interested (his suggestion to use bats as surveillance cracks me up every time) and he is waiting. He keeps tabs on the Harker Foundation from a safe distance and, to me, looks rather crestfallen when Renfield tells him that his lady friend (aka Van Helsing aka his “Agatha incubator”) left and seems to have lost all interest in Dracula. I think he expected a different outcome. It’s speculation but I think he expected Zoe to drink his blood (bc it doesn’t come as a surprise later when he notices the changes in her) and expected it to have an effect sooner and time is running out since Zoe is dying. Zoe was supposed to act similarly to the bed of his own native soil (she is a “bed” of Agatha’s DNA) and regenerate Agatha even if it’s temporary. So he is both staying away (survival is still key) and wants her to come after him again -- a delicious contradiction he can’t untangle by himself.

Lack of (threatening) interest, however, is a clear sign that Agatha is not back. If she were, he def wouldn’t have to go and check. She would waste no time seeking him (and indeed she wants to go after him the second she manifests and, as Zoe remarks, Dracula isn’t surprised to find her at his doorstep -- another parallel to ep 1 where it’s Agatha who anticipated him coming for his bride). I think he was waiting for her return just like Agatha was waiting for his in ep 2 (another parallel). It’s Renfield‘s remarks that drive this point home for me as he has a front row seat to what Dracula is like during these 3 months: “I wonder what it is you actually want,” and “What are you doing with your time?” I think it’s no coincidence that both of these questions get answered only w/ Agatha’s return. Dracula basically idles in the meantime. And the fact that it takes Agatha 3 months to properly manifest, when Zoe is the weakest, is def a testament to Zoe’s strength of character. She is a Van Helsing, after all. And they vanquish the monster in the smartest, most elegant way: by making him feel something other than blinding hunger for the first time in centuries.

#alma37 #bbc dracula #dracula x agatha #musings

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szopenhauer · 4 years ago

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What are you wearing right now? bluzę Lucy, tunikę z napisem Can’t touch this na tyłku, dresy...

Who was the last person you hugged? dad

Do you write down your dreams when you wake up? often

When was the last time you cried? Why? not sure

Do you still have most of your childhood toys? a lot of them

Do you get leg cramps often? recently I started to get them as I never did before :o

What is your religion? Christianity

Do you make wishes on your eyelashes? I blow at them to check who’s thinking about me

Have you ever met someone online then met them in person? If so, which website did you meet on?: yes, Dorota, tumblr

What was the last thing you threw in the trash?: strzykawkę

How many orange clothing items do you own?: just a few

Are you procrastinating at the moment?: kinda

Is there someone you really wish would talk to you?: maybe

Is Halloween simply the greatest holiday ever?: nah (Lisa is offended)

When were you last frustrated?: now

When was the last time you wanted to tell someone something, but couldn’t?: today

How many true friends do you know you’ll always have?: I worry that I will end up without my gf and dad :(

What color car would you definitely not want to own?: pink

Do you look more for “cuteness” or “hotness” in the opposite sex?: cuteness

How old is the nearest framed photograph to you?: it’s my dad’s black and white portrait so older than me probably

Are you picky when it comes to music?: dunno

What is something new you realized today? sigh...

Do you pick out your outfits at night or in the morning?: morning

What is the longest period of time you’ve chewed a single piece of gum?: not long

Have you ever seen the movie “Chicken Little”?: nope

What is the closest green object to you?: scissors

When was the last time you got your hair cut?: this month

Do you ever wear long socks?: not anymore

Polka dots or stripes?: stripes

Do you like the smell of hand sanitizer?: noooo

If your friend just died, what would be the first thing you would do?: omg...

Do you like the colors of your room?: they’re fine

Would you rather it be snowing or bright and sunny?: bright and sunny

When was the last time you went to the dentist?: almost week ago

Do you believe in reincarnation?: hmm...

What do you think of when I say PURPLE?: asexuality and Prince :D

What was the last thing you watched on YouTube? I’m watching Mean girls reunion now How long do you think you could go without listening to music? dunno How long could you go without chocolate? years

How about without your Cell phone? depends Which do you prefer: computer or television? computer, I don’t watch TV Who do you get along with best in your family? my father obviously How often do you go to the movie theater? I don’t How late did you stay up last night? 1 am at least When did you wake up? late Are you ready for children? hell no Do you prefer to text your friends or call them on the phone? text Do you have a nice yard? meh When you’re bored in class, do you write on the back of your hand? used to at times Do you think that you see the world differently from others? kinda Do you watch the late night news? no news, I avoid them all as much as possible Do you have any odd obsessive habits? not obsessive? Do you prefer sour or sweet? sweet Are you currently in your house? I am indeed Do people ever compliment your eyes? M. complimented my eyes Do they compliment your hair? wonder why Do you laugh at extremely corny jokes? oh well... Do you prefer ketchup or mustard? preffered ketchup Garlic fries or curly fries? garlic fries? eww! Are you one of the top 5 smartest in your class? been in elementary and partially middle school too Do you own any crazy socks? wouldn’t say so

Tell me about the first five photos you have on your phone or camera.: Nat took pics of cats

Have you got any half or step siblings?: I have not

When was the last time you were disappointed?: constantly?...

What cars do your siblings drive, if they do drive?: she doesn’t

What about your parents?: neither

Do you like kid’s movies?: plenty

When was the last time you had to take someone home? Who was it, and where did you take them home from?: odprowadzaliśmy Gosie jakiś czas temu ze wspólnie spędzonego dnia w parku

Who did you last speak aloud to and what did you say?: parent, forgot

How many siblings do your parents have?: mom has a brother, dad has a sister and two brothers

What colour is your wallet?: I own several coin purses instead

Are you wearing any jewellery right now?: am not

What can you smell right now?: luckily nothing

Who last held your hand?: family member

Have you seen all the Lord of the Rings movies?: not Hobbit

What is something you can’t seem to stop doing (or start)? uh oh

When was the last time you comforted someone who was upset? hours ago When was the last time you yelled at someone? same What types of things typically cause you to cry? everything?... What is one thing that would make your life a lot better? better health - too late for that How would you describe your overall aesthetic? complicated What is one of your most positive characteristics? What about one of your most negative? matter of perspective

Do you blow dry your hair or do you let it air out? first option Are you always late or always on time? early

Do you face your problems head on or do you run away from them? run What do you think of dreadlocks? cool Who do you know without a doubt cares about you? I doubt everyone, sorry Have you ever caught yourself talking in your sleep? mom caught me once or twice when I was a child Do you catch lizards? I photograph them

What is your favorite lyric in the song you are listening to? I like it whole - Tame Impala - Feels like we only go backwards Has anything seriously made you mad today? whoops

What brand of chapstick do you use? none, gross Is it cold in your house? not now Where you live, has it snowed yet? thx God it didn’t :o Are you the type of person who says you like something just to be cool? been there, done that, regret it What is the title of the last story you wrote? personal Paper clips or staples? staples Is swearing really necessary? helps :x Have you ever stuck your tongue to a frozen pole? I’m not stupid Do you take screen shots often? shitload Is there an album that you can listen to without skipping over any songs? when in the mood Do you use Mozilla Firefox? only to listen to the mass on Sunday Cinnamon: Yes or no? rarely What would your initials be if you married the person you are crushing on? who said I’m gonna change my surname? What year was your dad born in? not your business Do you have any beauty marks? moles? mhm Lyrics to end this survey, aye? :] Baby, I'm dying for another taste

hows your life at the moment? “rollerclaster” or worse do watch funny tvshows like family guy and south park? prefer Simpsons

have you let someone down recently? nothing new quick lyrics from the last song you heard.. Hi my little kitten who have you talked to on the phone today? - make a wish. right now. anything. miracles won’t happen to me... if you had to live at one of your bestfriend’s houses, where would u live? I already live with one lmfao how are you on this fine day? not the worst yet? are there any stressful situations in your life? ha ha ha... can you love and hate someone? I felt that do your parents annoy you? my mother is a pro at this what’s your favorite Lady Gaga song? 911 lately any last words? better stay quiet...

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bountyofbeads · 5 years ago

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The Trump Impeachment Inquiry: Latest Updates https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/22/us/politics/trump-impeachment.html

Dear Pres. @realDonaldTrump this is a #Lynching you have NOT been lynched.

THREAD: "They treated it as a social event. They even made postcards out of murders like this. Look at the smiles and the pointing..." /1

CREDIT: Tiffany Cross @TiffanyDCross

https://t.co/5oQXGwn3OY

"Yes. They lynched women too. And children." /2

https://t.co/vUohSihuOb

"I have living relatives who recall clearly the era of violent white rule." /3 https://t.co/VmvuiF8yjp

"I have living relatives who recall clearly the era of violent white rule." /4 https://t.co/VmvuiF8yjp

"So pardon our rage. Our tears. Our fears. Our angst. When it comes to a white supremacist in the White House (AGAIN) who wants this country to be great “again.” I can’t extend politeness & dignity to those who ride w/ #MAGA. I can’t extend love to those who ride with oppressors." /5 https://t.co/kinUb1BBr9

"The President of the United States comparing an impeachment inquiry to a #lynching is not a “distraction.” It is a reflection of the very real trajectory of our nation and the very repugnant evil of racism, which still permeates both legislation and language in the United States."CREDIT:Be A King @BerniceKing

"A lynching! A lynching? I’m thinking about the lies, the kidnapping, the rope, the torture, the cheering crowd, the death portrait, the people walking away with body parts of my ancestor."

"THAT IS WITNESSING A #LYNCHING."

" The audacity of this White male supremacist." CREDIT: Ibram X. Kendi @DrIbram

Trump Calls Impeachment Inquiry a ‘Lynching’

President Trump described the Democrats’ impeachment inquiry into him a “lynching” and said it was “without due process or fairness or any legal rights.”

By Eileen Sullivan | Published October 22, 2019 Updated 11:01 AM ET | New York Times | Posted October 22, 2019 |

President Trump on Tuesday called the impeachment inquiry into him a “lynching,” using a term associated with the murders of black people to describe a process enshrined in the Constitution.

In an early morning tweet, he added that the impeachment inquiry is “without due process or fairness or any legal rights,” and he encouraged Republicans to remember this in the future.

Donald J. Trump

✔@realDonaldTrump

So some day, if a Democrat becomes President and the Republicans win the House, even by a tiny margin, they can impeach the President, without due process or fairness or any legal rights. All Republicans must remember what they are witnessing here - a lynching. But we will WIN!

63.8K

7:52 AM - Oct 22, 2019

The term lynching invokes the decades-long racist history of white mob murders of black people beginning in the late 1800s through 1968, according to the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People.

It was a remarkable term for the president to use to describe a legal process laid out in the Constitution.

Mr. Trump’s Twitter outburst comes as pressure builds with the stream of testimony from current and former administration officials about his efforts to use the power of the White House for personal gain.

The president regularly uses his Twitter feed to make hyperbolic declarations, but he has not used the term “lynching” in a tweet since 2015, during the Republican primary campaign. The president’s use of the word Tuesday drew immediate criticism.

“You think this impeachment is a LYNCHING? What the hell is wrong with you,” Representative Bobby L. Rush, Democrat of Illinois and a former Black Panther leader, said in a Twitter post.

“I know the history of that word,” Representative James E. Clyburn, Democrat of South Carolina and the House majority whip, said on CNN Tuesday. “That is a word that we ought to be very, very careful about.”

Senator Lindsey Graham, Republican of South Carolina and an ally of Mr. Trump on most topics, defended the word choice. “This is a lynching in every sense,” Mr. Graham told reporters on Tuesday.

While Mr. Trump’s use of the word was striking, it was not the first time the word had been used to describe impeachment proceedings.

In 1973, during the Watergate scandal, one of President Richard M. Nixon’s most ardent defenders, Rabbi Baruch Korff, argued that the Senate Watergate committee had a “lynch-mob mentality.” Mr. Korff led a committee of Nixon supporters and invited them in 1974 to a rally “to challenge the lynching psychosis that is permeating the United States Congress.”

“Some conservatives insist on calling the impeachment campaign against Nixon a ‘lynching’ even to this day,” Kevin M. Kruse, a history professor at Princeton University, said Tuesday on Twitter. He pointed to a recent piece published in August on the conservative website, American Spectator, about “new evidence on the lynching of Richard Nixon.”

Michael D. Shear contributed reporting.

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When James Baldwin Squared Off Against William F. Buckley Jr.

By Thomas Meaney | Published October 18, 2019 | New York Times | Posted October 22, 2019 |

THE FIRE IS UPON US

James Baldwin, William F. Buckley Jr., and the Debate Over Race in America

By Nicholas Buccola

In 1965, the year of the Selma-to-Montgomery marches and the Watts riots, an ancillary skirmish played out across the Atlantic. James Baldwin, then at the height of his international reputation, faced off against William F. Buckley Jr., the “keeper of the tablets” of American conservatism, in the genteel confines of the Cambridge Union. The proposition before the house was: “The American dream is at the expense of the American Negro.” For Baldwin, who would roll his eyes more than once during the debate, the question indicated glaring ignorance. The American dream was a nightmare from which he was trying to wake. For Buckley, the American dream was a giant bootstrap that American blacks refused to employ. “We will fight … on the beaches and on the hills, and on mountains and on landing grounds,” he told the audience of students that evening, channeling Winston Churchill. Only Buckley invoked the imagery of plucky guerrilla resistance not against a Nazi invasion of the British Isles, but against Northern radicals bent on uprooting the Southern way of life.

Nicholas Buccola’s “The Fire Is Upon Us” is both a dual biography of Buckley and Baldwin and an acute commentary on a great intellectual prizefight. Baldwin and Buckley were, to put it mildly, from opposite sides of the tracks. Buckley was the son of an oil speculator who grew up in a Connecticut mansion stocked with tutors and servants. He honed his debating skills at the family dinner table and at Yale, where he was triggered by the presence of secular, left-leaning faculty members on campus, and later, in “God and Man at Yale,” called for a ban on hiring them.

Lack of godliness was less of a problem in Harlem. James Baldwin learned how to lock and load the English language as a child prodigy storefront preacher. Buckley’s postcollege trajectory included a stint in the C.I.A., while Baldwin’s extra-literary activities earned him a thick F.B.I. file. By the early 1960s, Buckley had gathered disparate right-wing tribes together in his magazine, National Review. Baldwin, despite his growing renown, would remain more of a loner. By the time he reached the Cambridge Union, he was already at odds with both the separatist agenda of the Nation of Islam and the arid progressivism of the Johnson White House.

Enshrined on YouTube and in countless documentaries, the Baldwin-Buckley debate remains an uncanny exchange. The grainy black-and-white BBC footage shows an overpacked Cambridge Union, with a sea of mostly young white men in jackets. The way Baldwin swings his body and thrusts his hands in his pockets and barely refers to his prepared notes makes him seem much closer to our moment than to the one that surrounds him. When he finally stands up after the two brittle speeches on either side of the motion by Cambridge undergraduates, he twists his eyes to the upper gallery where his sister Gloria was seated. Slowly, then quickly, he makes the alien hall his own.

Buccola, a professor of political science at Linfield College, deftly guides the reader through the rhetorical and philosophical moves of Baldwin’s speech. Baldwin adopted the tone of a preacher — “a kind of Jeremiah,” as he put it — who wants to readjust his audience’s “system of reality.” He tries to get them to imagine the black American experience from the inside. “It comes as a great shock to discover that Gary Cooper killing off the Indians — when you were rooting for Gary Cooper — that the Indians were you.” Did the American dream come at the expense of the American Negro? For Baldwin, the obtuseness of the question demanded a pronoun switch: “I am stating this very seriously, and this is not an overstatement, I picked the cotton, and I carried it to market, and I built the railroads, under someone else’s whip, for nothing. For nothing.”

“The Fire Is Upon Us” becomes revelatory in its interpretation of Buckley’s performance. We learn, for instance, that the Cambridge students had first tried to get Strom Thurmond or Barry Goldwater to debate Baldwin, only later settling on Buckley, who seems to have been eager for the publicity. We also learn that Buckley’s speech that evening was based on an article he had commissioned for National Review by Garry Wills. Wills, a young Catholic ultra, who would later break with Buckley over racial questions and become an indispensable interpreter of the American scene, drafted a fierce response to Baldwin’s famous New Yorker essay, “Letter From a Region in My Mind.” Part of the trouble with Baldwin for Wills was that he was treated as a savior by his white liberal readership and not afforded the dignity of scrutiny that he would have received if he were white. Wills believed that Baldwin went too far in his condemnation of the West. “When a Dachau happens,” Wills wrote, “are we — as Baldwin suggests — to tear up all the Bibles, disband the police forces, take crowbars to the court buildings and the libraries?” This was a selective reading of Baldwin, who, as his Cambridge speech makes clear, was if anything more committed to upholding the legacy of the Enlightenment than National Review’s editorial board was. But what would come to gall Wills even more than Baldwin was that his boss Buckley not only lifted from his piece (before it was published) for one of his own columns but also distorted Wills’s honest reckoning with Baldwin in the interest of his own, more facile and racialist prong of attack.

Buccola shows how Buckley in his Cambridge speech was developing a new kind of conservative maneuver. In his war on the New Left, Buckley’s method — both on his television show “Firing Line” and in other public appearances — was less to engage than to expose. (The method backfired on occasion, as when Huey Newton, a founder of the Black Panther Party, began a segment of “Firing Line” by out-Buckley-ing Buckley with a loyalty oath question: “During the Revolution of 1776 … which side would you have been on?”) Charm, wit, eye-twinkling and rapid deployment of stray factoids were among Buckley’s chief rhetorical assets. His main form of reasoning consisted of forced analogies. The Freedom Riders were compared to National Socialists in the pages of National Review.

In the Cambridge speech, Buckley dialed the comparison down, comparing the Irish in England to American blacks. Had the Irish gotten the vote because of, or in spite of, English civilization? Buckley asked. “The engines of concern are working in the United States,” he assured his audience. “The presence of Mr. Baldwin here tonight is in part a reflection of that concern.” The full force of Buckley’s argument was that blacks should aspire to the condition of whiteness, however unattainable that might turn out to be. The suffering and humiliations of blacks were real, he conceded, but this was more a testament to the fallen state of man than something that could be corrected swiftly. “I am asking you not to make politics as the crow flies,” Buckley told his audience, quoting the philosopher Michael Oakeshott. Buckley’s stress on the gradualness of any accommodation told Baldwin all he needed to know: Why, after 400 years of being in America, did blacks not have access to the same bounty as their fellow Americans, including those who, like the Kennedys, “only got here yesterday?”

Baldwin’s views of race relations seesawed considerably in the ’60s, from a kind of cosmic resignation that, in the words of Ta-Nehisi Coates, “perhaps struggle is all we have.” But on that February night in Cambridge, Baldwin envisioned a different endgame. “We are trying to forge a new identity for which we need each other,” he told his audience. He suggested it might be possible to create a new political synthesis if white Americans were prepared to recognize what they had done, both to blacks but also, crucially, to themselves. Alongside his more apocalyptic visions, Baldwin harbored a wary utopian presentiment that Buckley believed ignored man’s true nature and endangered America’s delicate hierarchies.

It is tempting to view the Baldwin-Buckley debate as a small victory for the idea of racial equality: Baldwin carried the floor vote 544 to 164. But part of the wisdom of “The Fire Is Upon Us” is that it leaves the import of the evening open to question. The debate, and his subsequent encounters with Buckley, left Baldwin with a bitter taste: “He’s the intellectuals’ James Bond,” he once said.

Buckley believed he had gained much more from their night in Cambridge: “the most satisfying debate I ever had.” He would lose again, badly, later that year when he ran for mayor of New York. Curiously, his main support came not from the WASP establishment of Manhattan but from white voters in the outer boroughs. Buckley’s knack for historical analogies continues to flourish. The money manager Stephen Schwarzman compared an Obama administration proposal to raise taxes on hedge funds to the Nazi invasion of Poland. After the last presidential election, Buckley’s son, Christopher, took to Vanity Fair to argue that his father’s politics had nothing to do with those of the outer-borough vulgarian who had landed in the White House. It would have been more becoming had he simply tipped his hat to one of the shrewder authors of our predicament.

Thomas Meaney is a fellow at the Max Planck Society in Göttingen, Germany.

THE FIRE IS UPON US

James Baldwin, William F. Buckley Jr., and the Debate Over Race in America

By Nicholas Buccola

Illustrated. 482 pp. Princeton University Press. $29.95.

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$27 Million for Reparations Over Slave Ties Pledged by Seminary

The Princeton Theological Seminary said it was committed to “telling the truth” about its ties to slavery. Black students don’t think it goes far enough.

By Ed Shanahan | Published October 21, 2019 Updated October 22, 2019, 10:28 AM ET | New York Times | Posted October 22, 2019 |

A New Jersey seminary has pledged to spend $27 million on scholarships and other initiatives to address its historical ties to slavery, in what appears to be the biggest effort of its kind.

The announcement, by the Princeton Theological Seminary on Friday, came about a year after an internal report detailed the findings of a two-year investigation that showed slavery’s deep roots in the school’s past.

The move put the seminary at the heart of a national discussion about what those who reaped the benefits of slavery — and the United States as a whole — owe to the descendants of slaves.

In a sign of that discussion’s complicated nature, Nicholas Young, the leader of a black student group at the seminary, said that the steps outlined by officials amounted to “a good start” but that they fell short of what the group had sought. About 10 percent of the seminary’s 360 students are black.

Mr. Young, the president of the Association of Black Seminarians, criticized the $27 million figure as being well below what the seminary’s own accounting indicated should be set aside from its $1 billion endowment to cover reparations-related costs.

Beyond that, Mr. Young said, the seminary needed to do more to address how faculty and other leaders had “used theology to justify the institution of slavery.”

Founded in 1812, the seminary, which is independent of Princeton University, benefited from the slave economy through investments in Southern banks and by having donors who profited from slavery, the 2018 report said. Founding members of the faculty and other seminary leaders used slave labor and promoted the idea of sending freed slaves to Africa, the report said.

Money given by slaveholders and the interest it generated accounted for 15 percent of the seminary’s revenue before the Civil War, the report said. If donors whose wealth was at least partly derived from slavery were factored in, as much as 30 to 40 percent of the seminary’s pre-Civil War revenue could be linked to slavery, the report said.

“The seminary’s ties to slavery are a part of our story,” M. Craig Barnes, the seminary’s president, said in a statement. “It is important to acknowledge that our founders were entangled with slavery and could not envision a fully integrated society. We are committed to telling the truth.”

Last month, the Virginia Theological Seminary, which was built with slave labor and whose founders included slave owners, became among the first American institutions to earmark money specifically for the descendants of the slaves, pledging $1.7 million for a reparations fund.

Last year, the Catholic sisters of the Society of the Sacred Heart created a reparations fund to finance scholarships for African-Americans in Grand Coteau, La., where the nuns once owned about 150 black people.

In April, students at Georgetown University, a Jesuit institution, voted to create a fund, financed by student fees, to benefit the descendants of 272 people sold in 1838 to help keep the college afloat. (Georgetown’s board of trustees has not approved the plan.)

The issue of slave reparations has also gained political traction among Democrats this year, with Congress holding a hearing on the subject and considering a commission. Several presidential candidates have also expressed support for the idea.

The reckoning over slavery’s role at theological institutions and universities with religious ties, like Georgetown, is particularly significant, said the Rev. Dr. Yolanda Pierce, the dean of the Howard University School of Divinity.

Dr. Pierce, who taught at the Princeton seminary for 10 years before leaving in 2017, commended the seminary, but said it and similar institutions had an obligation to address the kind of existential questions that money could not.

“What is the debt owed by the places that created and developed the theology that justified enslavement?” she said. Seminaries and institutions with religious ties, she said, needed to consider “how do we change the classes, how do we change the curriculum, how do change the attitudes?”

She added: “You’re not going to do it overnight. And you’re not going to do it with a check.”

Anne Stewart, the seminary’s vice president for external affairs, said that officials did not expect the initiatives to be embraced unconditionally.

“We know that some students will challenge us to do more,” she said. As to tackling the deeper questions of the seminary’s past role in supporting slavery more broadly, she noted that, among other things, the findings of the two-year investigation would be incorporated into the curriculum for all students pursuing a master’s degree starting in fall 2021.

The other measures announced by the seminary included 30 full-tuition scholarships for students descended from slaves and for members of underrepresented groups; five doctoral fellowships for students from those same backgrounds; the hiring of a full-time director for the Center for Black Church Studies; and the naming of the center for Betsey Stockton.

Ms. Stockton, a prominent African-American teacher in Princeton and Philadelphia, in some ways embodies the seminary’s complicated, and at times contradictory, connections to slavery, as detailed in the 2018 report.

She was given as a slave to the first wife of Ashbel Green, the first president of the seminary’s board of directors. Mr. Green, who owned several slaves, also led a Presbyterian Church General Assembly committee that produced an 1818 statement condemning slavery as “a gross violation of the most precious and sacred rights of human nature,” the report said.

After Ms. Stockton was emancipated, the report said, Mr. Green encouraged her religious education and missionary work in what is now known as Hawaii.

A big chunk of the report examines the deep involvement of faculty, board members and alumni in the American Colonization Society — a group that existed until 1964 and pushed for sending freed slaves to Africa, ostensibly to head off the social upheaval they believed that emancipation would cause, the report said.

Among those active in the society, according to the report, were Charles Hodge, Archibald Alexander and Samuel Miller. All three, Mr. Young of the Association of Black Seminarians noted, have campus buildings bearing their names.

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1 note · View note

lgbtqiahistoricalromance · 6 years ago

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LGBTQIA Historical Romances with Artists, Poets, Thespians, Musicians, Dancers, and Bohemians - July 2018

Jalendu by Mark Andrew

- Set in the turbulent twilight of the reign of the Mughal Emperor of India, Jalaluddin Akbar, Jalendu tell the story of the socially awkward, but politically important young Prince Adinath and Jali, a handsome, spiritually inclined farm boy who becomes his bodyguard. Their unlikely friendship and love changes the fate of the empire. The small kingdom of Vindhyagarh sits in the Vindhya foothills between Prince Salim, the rebellious son of the emperor and self-declared Sultan of Ilahabad (present day Allahabad) and his powerful Bundela Rajput ally, Maharaja Vir Singh Deo of Orchha. But Salim in truth is no rebel. He is loyal to the power behind the throne, the women of the imperial household. The court nobility, led by the emperor's vizier Abul Fazl, see their power evaporating as the emperor seems powerless to oppose the wishes of the empresses or to act against his disobedient eldest son. They fear that when Salim become emperor, they will be reduced to mere servants. Abul Fazl vows that Salim will never sit on the imperial throne. Rana Jayaram of Vindhyagarh wants peace, but his efforts to ensure it draw his kingdom into a very dangerous political game. His youngest son has rarely left the palace because of illness and spends his time reading ancient Sanskrit texts, drawing and composing poetry. His only friends are his brother's widow and his old tutor. Jayaram sees a chance to extract his kingdom from danger by an alliance with the influential Kachwahas. An alliance by the marriage of Prince Adinath to a Kachwaha princess would not only tie Vindhyagarh to a Rajput house more loyal to the empire but into the imperial family itself.

On Wings of Song by Anne Barwell

- Six years after meeting British soldier Aiden Foster during the Christmas Truce of 1914, Jochen Weber still finds himself thinking about Aiden, their shared conversation about literature, and Aiden’s beautiful singing voice. A visit to London gives Jochen the opportunity to search for Aiden, but he’s shocked at what he finds.The uniform button Jochen gave him is the only thing Aiden has left of the past he’s lost. The war and its aftermath ripped everything away from him, including his family and his music. When Jochen reappears in his life, Aiden enjoys their growing friendship but knows he has nothing to offer. Not anymore.

The Reluctant Berserker by Alex Beecroft Review (Gorgeous writing, and an unusual case of a dominant musician and a submissive warrior.)

- Dark Ages England. Among the Saxons, a warrior is the highest form of human life. He dominates all, he yields to none, and if ever this mastery is taken away, his honour is taken with it. Reluctant berserker, Wulfstan, a noble and fearsome warrior, has spent most of his life trying to hide the fact that he would love to be cherished and taken care of by someone stronger than himself. Slight and beautiful harper, Leofgar, has the opposite problem – how can he keep the trained killers off him long enough to get them to acknowledge he’s as much of a man as any of them? When, in a panic, Wulfstan accidentally kills a friend who is about to blurt out his secret, and Leofgar flees rather than submit to his lord’s lust, they meet on the road to the pilgrims’ shrine at Ely. Pursued by a mother’s curse and Leofgar’s vengeful lord, they must battle guilt, outlaws, and the powers of the underworld with the aid of only music and a female saint. And if they fall in love on the way, there’s still that murderous shame to overcome.

Treading the Boards series by Tess Bowery (author’s Tumblr)

Rite of Summer: Gay men in a disaster!triad. Sex solves a lot of things, but actually talking about problems solves more. Not a poly ending.

She Whom I Love: Bisexual best friends share a very confused (yet grateful) straight man. Disaster is narrowly averted. A very poly ending.*

*Shortlisted twice for the Bisexual Book Awards, 2015 - Best Romance, Best Erotic Fiction.

That Potent Alchemy: Genderqueer ballet dancer hates gender, ballet, and emotional connection. Macbeth helps. No poly in this one at all.

Artemis by Jessica Cale (trans male hero/bisexual heroine)

- Actress Charlotte Halfpenny is in trouble. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, and out of a job, Charlotte faces eviction two weeks before Christmas. When the reclusive Earl of Somerton makes her an outrageous offer, she has no choice but to accept. Could he be the man of her dreams, or is the nightmare just beginning?

Apollo Somerton has been in love with Charlotte for a decade, seeing each of her plays multiple times, despite being a man that otherwise keeps to himself. After Charlotte finds herself pregnant, she almost resorts to drastic measures, but Somerton rescuers her and makes her an offer she can’t refuse. But, despite his adoration and beauty, Charlotte knows being an actress didn’t prepare her for the role of wife to an Earl, and others will stop at nothing to keep the pair from getting married.

This is a sweet novella, with a frankly adorable leading man. Handsome and devoted, he has a secret, but love with persevere. Some aspects of the novella are a little far-fetched, but the love story makes it totally worthwhile. (Contains mentions of period-typical homophobia and transphobia. Trans male leading man, and bisexual heroine.)

25% proceeds donated to Equality NC, and 25% to the Malala fund

Think of England by KJ Charles Mini Review

- Lie back and think of England... England, 1904. Two years ago, Captain Archie Curtis lost his friends, fingers, and future to a terrible military accident. Alone, purposeless and angry, Curtis is determined to discover if he and his comrades were the victims of fate, or of sabotage. Curtis's search takes him to an isolated, ultra-modern country house, where he meets and instantly clashes with fellow guest Daniel da Silva. Effete, decadent, foreign, and all-too-obviously queer, the sophisticated poet is everything the straightforward British officer fears and distrusts. As events unfold, Curtis realizes that Daniel has his own secret intentions. And there's something else they share-a mounting sexual tension that leaves Curtis reeling. As the house party's elegant facade cracks to reveal treachery, blackmail and murder, Curtis finds himself needing clever, dark-eyed Daniel as he has never needed a man before... Warning: Contains explicit male/male encounters, ghastly historical attitudes, and some extremely stiff upper lips.

The Actor and the Earl by Rebecca Cohen (Three book series, w/Sebastian playing his own twin sister in all three.)

- Elizabethan actor Sebastian Hewel takes his bow at the proscenium only to embark on the role of a lifetime. When his twin sister, Bronwyn, reneges on the arrangement to marry Anthony Redbourn, Earl of Crofton, Sebastian reluctantly takes her place. At nineteen, Sebastian knows his days as a leading lady are numbered, but with this last performance, he hopes to restore his family’s name and pay off his late father’s debts. Never mind the danger of losing his head should he be discovered.He didn’t expect Anthony to be so charming and alluring—not to mention shrewd. While he applauds Sebastian’s plan, Anthony offers a mutually beneficial arrangement instead. Sebastian will need every drop of talent he has to survive with both his head and his heart intact, because this is the best part he’s ever had.

You Must Remember This: A Gay Retelling of Casablanca by John Michael Curlovich

- You Must Remember This is an homage to the classic film Casablanca on the 75th anniversary of the film’s release in America. It is the height of World War II. Frank Chandler is an American GI who has been separated from the army on a “blue discharge.” Along with his musician friend and sometime lover Dan Jackson, he finds himself in Marrakesh (only a short distance away from Casablanca), an international city where every kind of pleasure is easily available. But Marrakesh is also a city of danger. The Nazis are establishing themselves there, and their ominous presence means life is fraught with peril. Then Lilli, a beautiful, mysterious woman from Frank’s past, shows up unexpectedly, and he finds himself confronted with the hardest choice of his life. Lilli’s presence stirs emotions he thought he had buried. Yet there is still the city—and its men—and the thousand pleasures it offers… Should Frank go with Lilli and try to make a “normal” life with her? Or should he follow what he increasingly believes to be his true nature? That is the dramatic conflict at the heart of You Must Remember This.

My Lord, Lady, and Gentleman - Book Three of the Surrey SFS series by Nicola Davidson (m/m/f)

- Welcome to the Surrey Sexual Freedom Society - where unconventional and uninhibited ladies and gentlemen discuss all matters erotic... Estranged from his aristocratic family for choosing art over a third son’s proper path, Mr. Clayton Irving lives in wretched circumstances. His only joys are his friends and an extraordinary talent for sensual portraits, until the perfect opportunity arises: paint ton empress Lady Susanna Fenton. All his financial woes gone…if he can hide his fierce craving for her—and even more forbidden—her husband Lord Joseph Fenton.

In the eyes of the world the Fentons have it all: staggering wealth, position, and a caring union. Yet their smiles hide a marriage broken by secrets and pretense. The wicked portrait is a last effort to save it, and Susanna and Joseph soon discover that sinfully handsome Clayton is key to a passionate and happy new start for them all. But secrets always reveal themselves, and those who break the rules are punished. Can an unconventional ménage truly defy all for love?

The Bohemian and the Banker by Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon

- A night lost in Paris finds two hearts changed forever. Sent to Paris on business, Nigel Warren doesn’t quite understand why his colleagues’ eyes twinkle as they tell him to meet them at a local night spot. When he discovers it’s a drag cabaret and his acquaintances aren’t there, he realizes he’s the butt of a joke. Yet he finds himself quite undone by a singer dressed in an elegant gown, crooning a spellbinding ballad. It’s not unusual for Jay, a former Londoner, to bring a new “friend” home from the cabaret, but he’s never had a guest quite like Nigel, whose straitlaced manner hides an unexpected passionate streak. One romantic night on a rooftop under starry skies, followed by an afternoon enjoying the excitement of the 1901 Paris Exposition, bonds these opposites in a way neither can forget—even after they part. Their spark reignites when Jay comes to London, but he’s not sure he can go back to hiding his true self, not even for the sake of love…unless Nigel is willing to shed his cloak of staid respectability and take a leap of faith.

Robby Riverton: Mail Order Bride by Eli Easton

- Being a fugitive in the old west shouldn’t be this much fun. The year is 1860. Robby Riverton is a rising star on the New York stage. But he witnesses a murder by a famous crime boss and is forced to go on the run--all the way to Santa Fe. When he still hasn't ditched his pursuers, he disguises himself as a mail order bride he meets on the wagon train. Caught between gangsters that want to kill him, and the crazy, uncouth family of his "intended", Robby's only ally is a lazy sheriff who sees exactly who Robby is -- and can't resist him. Trace Crabtree took the job as sheriff of Flat Bottom because there was never a thing going on. And then Robby Riverton showed up. Disguised as a woman. And betrothed to Trace’s brother. If that wasn’t complication enough, Trace had to find the man as appealing as blueberry pie. He urges Robby to stay undercover until the danger has passed. But a few weeks of having Robby-Rowena at the ranch, and the Crabtree family will never be the same again. Damn, what a kerfuffle. If only Trace can get rid of the fugitive while hanging on to his own stupid heart.

A Brush with Darkness by Erastes

- Florence, 1875 After making a grisly discovery one night, I needed proof that there was still goodness in the world. I never dreamt it would come to me during my next commission—with a subject whose very name means light... Yuri was glorious in his otherworldly beauty, surrounded by a bright halo of iridescence, but I detected a fierce darkness lurking underneath the surface. Sketching all night, I could hardly wait to capture his likeness in a painting. For Yuri has stimulated not only my creative urges, but my sexual ones as well. His very presence infuses me with joy and passion, but what will happen if my patron should discover our trysts? Dependent on his good graces, I can't afford to lose his support. But I fear the time will soon come when I must choose between restoring my family's fortunes and obeying the temptation of the muse before me... Previously published as Chiaroscuro, newly revised by author.

The Matinee Idol by Owen Keehnen

- LOVE IN THE SILENT FILM ERA... At the height of the roaring 1920s, Raymond Richmond leaves Iowa and heads for Hollywood with dreams of silent film stardom in his head. In Los Angeles, he meets Brick, the ruggedly handsome cowboy of his dreams. Soon the two are a couple. When Raymond film career takes off, he is pressured to choose between stardom and Brick. Afraid of passing up his dream, Raymond chooses his career. As Raymond’s star ascends, he attempts to fill the void Brick has left in a number of ways. Eventually, his career begins to suffer and shortly after the advent of talkies, Raymond hits rock bottom. Desperate and alone, he is prostituting himself to feed his addiction to alcohol. But fate intervenes and reunites Raymond with Brick. However, Brick carries deep wounds from their past as well. Can the former lovers overcome the demons and betrayal of the past and find happiness once again? Spanning over a decade, Owen Keehnen’s The Matinee Idol is a timeless tale about second chances and the redemptive power of love.

Convincing the Secretary - Book Two of the London Legal series by Ava March (Included due to Edward’s true calling.)

- Business and pleasure is a mix no gentleman should consider. Lord Grayson Holloway goes after what he wants—be it in the law office on his clients’ behalf or in the bedchamber. His new position as partner puts him closer to achieving his goal of becoming the most successful solicitor in London. There’s just one problem—his new secretary. Broad of shoulder yet mild of manner, Edward tempts Gray like no other. Yet the young man barely notices him. Edward Fenton tries to be a good secretary, but being in Lord Grayson’s hard, commanding presence rouses Edward’s most forbidden desires. Wicked, naughty desires no gentleman should consider giving in to, let alone with his new employer. Gray is more than willing to mix business with pleasure. But convincing Edward to take a chance on a future with him? That might be the most challenging case Gray has ever taken on. Warning: Includes buttoned-up gentlemen who become undone, improper use of a desk, spankings, and a big bad lord who has a soft spot for his virgin secretary.

A Wager of Love by Katherine Marlowe (Review pending, but this is included, because Gilbert and Laurence have long conversations about poetry and philosophy, and they do a little acting in pursuit of their goal. This was a delightful book, using the thoughts and concepts of the time period to great effect.

- Laurence Aberforth has never been in love. The first time he meets the impulsive and charming Gilbert Heckwith, he accepts a wager as to whether or not true love exists in the world. Amidst the playful flirtation of their new friendship, they explore the concept of love through philosophy and poetry, and the two of them ultimately find the proof of their wager in each other. Clean romance, no cheating, no cliffhangers, standalone novella.

Such a Dance by Kate McMurray

- New York City, 1927. Eddie Cotton is a talented song-and-dance man with a sassy sidekick, a crowd-pleasing act, and a promising future on Broadway. What he doesn’t have is someone to love. Being gay in an era of prohibition and police raids, Eddie doesn’t have many opportunities to meet men like himself—until he discovers a hot new jazz club for gentlemen of a certain bent...and sets eyes on the most seductive, and dangerous, man he’s ever seen. Lane Carillo is a handsome young Sicilian who looks like Valentino—and works for the Mob. He’s never hidden his sexuality from his boss, which is why he was chosen to run a private night club for men. When Lane spots Eddie at the bar, it’s lust at first sight. Soon, the unlikely pair are falling hard and fast—in love. But when their whirlwind romance starts raising eyebrows all across town, Lane and Eddie have to decide if their relationship is doomed…or something special worth fighting for.

The First Act by Vanessa Mulberry

- April 1594. William Moodie thinks he’s in love with celebrated actor Richard Brasyer. When Brasyer’s playing company, Goldfox’s Men, comes to town, William is only too willing to leave his country life for the opportunities of the theater and a life in London. Determined to become Richard’s apprentice, William seeks to impress his mentor with his acting—and please him in bed.Meanwhile, Richard struggles to escape his past as a spy and disentangle himself from the manipulations of his former master and ex-lover, Bennett Goldfox. Swearing off a relationship with his new apprentice proves difficult for Richard, as William uses all his youthful charms to seduce him. When Bennett’s life is threatened, Richard is lured back into the game for one final mission, and he and William travel to Cambridge to hunt down a list of traitors to the Crown.In the midst of danger and deception, Richard and William come to truly see each other, faults and all, and realize their feelings run deeper than either expected.

Palace Dog by RE Nelson

- In April 1975, as the government in Saigon is falling, Michael Andrews prepares to make his way back to Vietnam to find the love he was forced to leave. But Michael’s journey begins four years earlier. He joins the Air Force to keep out of the Army and out of Vietnam, but his first assignment is teaching English in Saigon to members of the Vietnamese military in an Army program called Palace Dog. As an artist, and a man, before his time in Vietnam, Michael found life lonely and unsatisfying. In the midst of war, Michael searches for direction and meaning. He ultimately finds love and hope with Thao, a young Vietnamese art student, only to have their already uncertain future wrenched from them when he is pulled out of the country. For Michael, his return in 1975 is inevitable and without question, though the outcome he hopes for is anything but assured.

The Viscount and the Artist by Alyson Pearce (The Eccentrics Book 1) (Review pending, but this was a lovely surprise. I expected a slap-dash May/December romance, but these characters were actually worked out, and Jeremy stays true to his convictions in spite of everything working against him. Andrew has a crisis, but they work through it together.)

- Andrew Cardwell is a man driven by duty to his country and to his family. After the death of his uncle, he’s determined to provide security and stability for his family as the new Viscount Cardwell—even if that means marrying and producing an heir. Surprising himself, Andrew decides to sponsor a young artist named Jeremy for the season, to help him find a patron. What he doesn’t anticipate is how well Jeremy fits in his bed…and his life. Jeremy Leighton knows what it’s like to be a disappointment. The only son of a vicar, he’s refused to follow the path his father set for him, choosing his passion for art, instead. He accepts Andrew’s proposal, hoping to prove to his father—and himself—that he can succeed as an artist. After spending time with Andrew in and out of bed, Jeremy struggles not to fall for the damaged viscount, knowing the season will likely end in Andrew’s engagement. Between a meddling cousin, a widow on the hunt for a new husband, and their own doubts about the relationship, how can Andrew and Jeremy shed the expectations of others to find true happiness?

Juliana by Vanda (f/f)

- New York City, 1941. Alice “Al” Huffman and her childhood friends are fresh off the potato farms of Long Island and bound for Broadway. Al’s plans for stage success are abruptly put on hold when she’s told she has no talent. As she gets a job to pay for acting classes, Al settles into a normal life with her friends and a boyfriend. It all changes when she meets Juliana.A singer on the brink of stardom, Juliana is everything Al isn’t: glamorous, talented, and queer. The farm girl is quickly enthralled, experiencing thoughts and feelings she never realized were possible. Al finds herself slipping between two worlds: the gay underground and the “normal” world of her childhood friends. It’s a balancing act she can handle until the two worlds begin to collideIn a city bursting with change, can Alice find what she was looking for all along?Juliana: Volume 1: 1941-1944 is a captivating work of LGBT historical romance. If you like extensively researched settings, spell-binding storytelling, and characters you can’t help but fall for, then you’ll love the first book in award-winning playwright Vanda’s new Juliana series.

Nightingale by Aleksandr Voinov

- In Nazi-occupied Paris, most Frenchmen tread warily, but gay nightclub singer Yves Lacroix puts himself in the spotlight with every performance. As a veteran of France’s doomed defense, a survivor of a prison camp, and a “degenerate,” he knows he’s a target. His comic stage persona disguises a shamed, angry heart and gut-wrenching fear for a sister embedded in the Resistance. Yet Yves ascends the hierarchy of Parisian nightlife to become a star, attracting the attention—and the protection—of the Nazi Oberst Heinrich von Starck. To complicate matters further, young foot soldier Falk Harfner’s naïve adoration of Yves threatens everything he’s worked for. So does Aryan ideologue von Grimmstein, rival to von Starck, who sees something “a bit like a Jew” in Yves. When an ill-chosen quip can mean torture at the hands of the Gestapo, being the acclaimed Nightingale of Paris might cost Yves his music and his life.

Ardent by Heloise West

- In the village of Torrenta, master painter Morello has created a color that mimics the most expensive pigment of all, the crimson red. Master Zeno, from strife-ridden Medici Florence, tells him the color gives him a competitive advantage – but Morello must be careful. Fraud is ever-present in the dye and pigment markets. As they work together in Torrenta, Morello falls hard for Zeno’s assistant, Benedetto Tagliaferro, a young man of uncommon beauty and intelligence. Benedetto is still fixed on his old lover, the master painter Leo Guisculo, and cannot return Morello’s affections. But when Leo dies in a terrible accident, it’s to Morello that Zeno and Benedetto turn for help. And Morello soon finds that in Florence, every surface hides layers of intrigue.

#lgbtqia romance #historical romance

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veryniceaus · 7 years ago

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mmmm high school au!woozi ??

omg i am so sorry how late this is but i hope you forgive me

How do I say this: you and Jihoon did not get along - at all. He was quick to anger and so were you, plus you two were always arguing over who was right and wrong almost all the time. Unfortunately, you two shared almost every class together, which made it that much harder to avoid him. At least you two sat on opposite sides of the room.

Which is why you’re suprised one day when the art teacher announces that she’ll be assigning partners instead of letting the students choose, and to you and Jihoon’s luck, you two have been paired together.

Begrudgingly, you went to sit by Jihoon, dragging your feet the entire time. He just looked at you as you sat in front of him. “Why did we have to be paired together?” You muttered.

“I’m not happy about this either, and you better not slack on purpose. I don’t want my grade to go down because of your idiocy.”

You glared at him. “I’m not going to! You better not either.” Then you blinked. “What’s the assignment anyway? I wasn’t listening.”

He sighed heavily. “Of course you weren’t. We have to draw a portrait of each other.”

You watched as he opened his sketch pad, putting his pencil to paper. “You’d better not make me ugly on purpose.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll be sure to capture your average looks in this drawing,” he said, to which you rolled your eyes at.

After class, you and Jihoon decided to meet in the art room on the days when the art club wasn’t meeting to work on the project after school. Today happened to be one of those days, so once the school day was over, you headed to the art room.

Jihoon was already there, sitting in the same spot as earlier. You walked over to him and sat in the stool across from him. “You go ahead and draw me first,” he told you.

“Sure.” Taking out your sketch pad and pencil, you looked up to find him staring at you. “Um, what?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? I’m supposed to stay still for you to draw me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that! I just want to know why you’re just weirdly staring at me.”

“Well what else am I supposed to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know, like do your homework or something. Do you want your portrait to be just you staring straight ahead with those soulless eyes of yours?”

He glared at you, but pulled out a notebook from his backpack anyway. “Fine, suit yourself. Just don’t mess up.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

Now, the room fell silent, the only sounds being your pencil sliding across the paper and Jihoon’s pen scribbling over his. You studied Jihoon; he wasn’t bad-looking. In fact, he was pretty handsome, and you felt that he would be popular if he wasn’t so prickly all the time. You took in how the warm sunlight fell on his face, making his skin glow and how smooth his hands looked as he wrote, but they were also attractive with how defined his knuckles were.

You didn’t realize how obsorbed you were with staring at him that when his eyes suddenly flickered up to meet yours, your heart skipped. “W-What?” you stuttered.

“Your hand stopped moving.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Is something the matter? Your face is red.”

“I’m fine!” You exclaimed before looking back down at your sketch pad. His portrait was turning out nicely, the only thing left was to make it more detailed and defined.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, it is getting kind of late. Let’s end it here.”

You watched as he packed up his bag and walked out the door, giving a small goodbye wave to you on the way out.

Ever since that day, you noticed every thing you never did before about Jihoon. How handsome he is, how nice his voice sounded, how nice he smelled whenever he would lean in a bit while you two talked.

And most of all, how everything about him made your heart race.

As you sat in the art room, waiting for Jihoon, who was having a meeting with the history teacher, you thought about your feelings. How did this happen? Why are you feeling all nervous around him when just a couple weeks before, you couldn’t stand him? The worst thing of all is that you don’t know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t seem to feel any differently, since he always treats you the same as before, although his snarky remarks towards you have decreased. Maybe you were just over-thinking things, maybe these feelings will go away once this project ends!

“Spacing out again?” Jihoon’s voice asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Um, yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said as he opened his sktech book. “Go ahead and do your thing while I finish up my drawing.”

You two had decided not to show each other the portraits until both were finished. Your portrait of Jihoon was done, and you were worried about what he might think about it. In your drawing, it was him writing in his notebook. You ended up asking him what he was writing one day, finding out that he wrote lyrics.

“Could I read it?” you had asked him.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why? So you could make fun of it?”

“Of course not! I’m just curious. Please, can I read it?”

He sighed as he handed it over to you. The first thing you noticed was his neat handwriting, but what stood out to you was how well-written the lyrics were. They were lyrics that made you feel a little sad, but as you kept reading, you got the message of the song: things may be hard now, but if you keep pushing foward, you’ll eventually get to a place where everything is alright.

“You’ve been quiet for a while,” he said, breaking the silence in the room. “What do you think?”

You looked up at him and smiled. “I really like it. You’re really good! I never knew. Can I read more another day?”

His eyes widened a bit before he looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Sure, I’ll bring some of my other works with me next time.” You could have sworn you saw a bit of pink dust his cheeks, but you brushed it off. There’s no way Jihoon would be blushing, right?

Now, Jihoon announced that he’s finished with his drawing. “So, let me see how you did with the drawing of me,” he said.

You pulled out your sketch pad and opened it up to the drawing. “Listen, before I show you, I want you to promise you won’t laugh or get angry.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you really did mess around with this assignment?”

“No!” you exclaimed. “Gah, never mind! Here!”

You thrust the sketch pad at him and he took it, handing you his own with his other hand. Nervously, you grabbed his sketch pad before slowly looking down at the portrait he had drawn of you.

It was beautiful.

You didn’t even recognize yourself at first; you thought he had handed you a drawing of a competely different person. But, sure enough, it was you. You were staring out the window, your chin resting in the palm of your hand. Jihoon was able to capture even the smallest details of your face. Your eyes sparkled from the sunlight, your expression peaceful.

Looking up, you were about to say something to him, only to stop when you saw the look on his face. He stared down your drawing of him, his expression unreadable. Scared, you hesitantly called his name. “J-Jihoon?” you said.

He seemed to snap out of his thoughts. “What?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just… what do you think?”

Instead of answering you, he abruptly stood up from his seat, the stool’s legs scratching against the floor. Pushing your sketch pad back to you, he grabbed his off the table and shoved it into his bag. “I have to go now. See you.”

“Wait!” you called after him. However, he didn’t turn around and disappeared out the door.

Without thinking, you quickly stood up and chased after him. He hadn’t gotten far, so you quickly caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “I said, wait!” you shouted. “What’s your problem? Why did you just leave?” He kept his head turned away from you, only angering you further. “Listen, if you didn’t like my drawing, you could of at least said it instead of just walking out of the room like that.”

“I didn’t not like it,” he finally said. He turned to face you, and your were surprised to see the soft expression on his face. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know how to react, so I left.”

“What do you mean, ‘surprised’?” you asked. “At how bad it was? I mean, I know I’m not the best artist but-”

“It wasn’t bad,” he cut you off. “It was far from bad. You did a really good job. I was shocked at how good it was.”

“So then why did you just randomly walk off after seeing it?”

“Because… I didn’t want you to see my reaction,” he mumbled. Confused at first, you peered closely at his face. That’s when you noticed the slight blush on his cheeks and how shy his expression is.

In response, your own face turned red. “Oh.”

“Oh?” His eyes narrowed. “I said all that embarrassing stuff and that’s all you have to say?”

“Well, honestly, I don’t know what to say.” You laughed. “I’m just glad you liked it. I was so scared you wouldn’t.”

“Why?” he asked. “I would have liked anything you came up with.”

You heart sped up. “What do you mean?”

He stared at you. “Seriously? Is it not obvious by now?” He sighed when you shook your head. “I like you.”

Now, your heart was beating hard that you were sure he could hear it, and just like that first moment that day, you noticed how beautiful he is. The sun shone through the window again on him, making him seem like some otherworldly creature.

Stepping closer to you, he asked, “Did you like the drawing I made of you?”

“Y-Yes,” you said.

“To be honest, I wasn’t planning on giving it to you. I was going to give you another one that wasn’t as good as that one.”

“Why?”

His cheeks turned red. “It’s embarrassing! My feelings for you became so obvious with how good it came out. I was nervous that you’d figure it out.” He sighed before looking into your eyes. “Well, I suppose it’s too late now.”

You stared at him. “Do you really like me?”

Instead of answering with words, he leaned into you, softly pressing his lips to yours. “From the moment I saw you,” he said seriously. “I just didn’t know how to act around you, but I guess you took that as me not liking you.”

“Sorry,” you said. “But I really thought you hated me!”

He laughed. “Well, you know now.” He stepped away from you, holding out his hand. “Let’s go.”

Smiling, you put your hand in his, and he squeezed your hand slightly as you two made your way home.

#seventeen #seventeen scenarios #woozi #jihoon #seventeen imagines #fanfic #au #seventeen au #high school au #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines

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la-sorciere-fleur · 7 years ago

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19 "You broke my heart." From the prompt list for Arno Dorian. Reader has been in love with him all while they thought he only had eyes for Elise.

Thanks for the request, Anon! I hope you like it :)PROMPT: “You broke my heart.”

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 2508

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You sighed as you sat in the Café Théâtre, your head resting in your hand. Your gaze was following Arno’s every move as he talked with another Assassin. It seemed that no matter how hard you tried, your feelings for him only grew stronger and stronger. You knew it was hopeless - he didn’t love you, he loved another woman who he’d grown up with. Elise de la Serre. She was incredibly beautiful… but she was also a Templar. You didn’t understand it - and perhaps you never would - but it was her that he loved and you couldn’t do anything to change it.

Still, it was painful to see the man you loved be completely enamoured with another.

His gaze suddenly met yours and you felt your cheeks grow hot with the shame of being caught staring at him. He smiled warmly, crossing the room and approaching you. He sat down across from you, his eyes shining with interest as he regarded you. Your heart fluttered in your chest, as you wondered why he’d come over to you.

“Y/N,” he greeted with a smile. “The council has given us a mission together. Can you be ready by tonight?”

In a single moment, your heart sank again. He’d only come over to talk business. Of course.

“Oui,” you agreed, looking away from him. “I’ll make sure I’m prepared. Anything else I should know?”

“Non,” he replied. “We won’t be undercover.”

You nodded, still not looking at him and he frowned. Leaning forward slightly, he took one of your hands in his. Instantly, your eyes shot up, meeting his gaze.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned.

“Fine,” you nodded. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He didn’t look convinced, but didn’t push it either. Instead, he released your hand and stood up.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he told you. “Meet me in the courtyard.”

“Oui,” you replied, showing that you understood.

***

The night air had a slight chill to it as you stepped out into the courtyard. Arno was ready and waiting for you, looking as handsome as ever. His brown eyes regarded you warmly as he saw you approaching. You fell into step beside each other, as Arno led the way. He smelt incredible - his aftershave strong, but you could only place a few of the scents. Clove, bay… and want seemed to be rum, mixed with a bit of cinnamon.

“We have two targets,” he explained to you. “We’ll split up and take out one of them each. Sound good?”

You nodded, showing that you agreed. You both arrived at a large, extravagant building that was heavily guarded and Arno turned to face you properly. You startled slightly when he reached out and placed his hands gently upon your shoulders.

“We should split up now,” he told you.

“Oui,” you agreed. “Who is my target?”

“Adalie Moreau,” he replied, handing you a small portrait of the woman, so that you would recognise her. “She’ll most likely be in the west wing.”

“Understood,” you nodded. “I’ll rendezvous with you back here.”

You moved to walk away and begin your mission, but Arno stopped you.

“Y/N?” He called out, causing you to turn back and face him. “Be careful.”

You frowned, but didn’t think too much over his words.

“You too,” you replied, turning and leaving to fulfill your mission.

As you walked away, you were unaware of Arno’s conflicted gaze following your figure.

***

You scaled the walls of the building in a spot where there were fewer guards. Once you’d reached the top, you pulled yourself up onto the roof and quickly assassinated the guard who was patrolling that area. You moved swiftly over the rooftop, assessing whether there were any more guards who might prove to be a nuisance, but saw none close enough to pose a problem. You climbed down the other side of the building, seeking an entry point.

You came across an open window on the upper floor and quickly leapt inside. You surveyed the new area, checking for any potential threats as you moved quietly through the hall. Turning a corner, a guard spotted you and immediately opened his mouth to alert his allies. You sprinted forward, quickly taking him out with a quick slice of your blade to his neck. A nearby alarm bell alerted you that another guard had escaped your notice and was now alerting more of them to your presence.

“Merde!” You cursed to yourself.

You continued onwards, prepared to face your challengers, but the sheer amount of guards who poured into the room left you surprised and off-guard. You were a lesser-ranking Assassin than Arno, which was why you’d gone on this mission with him and not alone. You were severely outnumbered and you didn’t like your chances. A young woman with golden-blonde hair and intelligent blue eyes entered the room and you recognised her as your target - Adalie Moreau.

“An Assassin?” She scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “Kill her.”

All at once, the guards advanced towards you and you put yourself into a defensive stance. You refused to go down without a fight and began attempting to counter their attacks, wondering how long you would be able to continue doing so.

***

Arno quickly moved out of the room he was in, leaving several dead bodies behind him - that of his target and the guards surrounding him. He moved through the hallway quietly and was about to jump out of an open window when he heard an alarm going off at the other side of the building. Arno felt panic flood him, knowing the sound had come from the west wing. He quickly sprung out of the window and climbed up onto the rooftop. He ran quickly above the building, making his way to the opposite side.

As he grew closer, he heard the unmistakable sound of combat. His heart was pounding, because he knew you were alone and there must have been a small army of guards against you. Arno moved as quickly as he could and felt a fleeting surge of relief when he finally reached you. He saw that you were countering several guards, but were tiring at an alarmingly fast rate. Not wasting any time, Arno immediately took action and moved forward to aid you.

Arno was incredibly skilled with blades and it truly showed in that moment. He helped you overcome the guards and before long there were only three left standing to protect Adalie. The blonde woman grew frustrated with her men’s lack of ability and began to retreat.

“Take care of them!” She spat, before leaving the room.

“Y/N!” Arno shouted, nodding to where Adalie had disappeared.

You nodded, moving past the remaining guards and leaving them for Arno to handle. You sprinted through the hall after Adalie, wanting to be sure that she wouldn’t rally up any more guards to get in your way. You managed to close the distance between you both fairly quickly and tackled her to the floor. She resisted, thrashing her body around wildly in an attempt to make you release her. You pinned her arms down onto the ground, forcing her to stay still.

“Go on, then,” she hissed. “Get it over with. Are you an Assassin or not?”

Irked by her words, you raised your arm before sinking your hidden blade into her throat. Her calculating blue eyes peered up at you until the light in them died out. You remained there, straddling her and looking into her dead eyes for several moments.

“Y/N!” Arno called out, running down the hall until he reached your side.

You stood up, moving away from your targets dead body and Arno immediately turned you to face him. His eyes scanned over you worriedly, spotting the different cuts that marred your body. However, he was satisfied to see that you hadn’t been seriously injured.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I shouldn’t have suggested we split up.”

“It’s fine, Arno,” you sighed. “I’m not a novice anymore. I need to learn -“

He cut you off by pulling you into a tight hug. Your eyes widened at his action, feeling overwhelmingly shocked at his display of affection. He kept you in his arms for several moments, seemingly not wanting to let go. Eventually, when he pulled away, it was only slightly and he gazed deeply into your eyes. You went to say something further - planning to question him on his actions - but he stopped you by leaning forward and capturing your lips in a kiss.

You couldn’t help it; you acted instinctually, melting into him and kissing him back passionately. He moved his arms downwards, to wrap around your waist and you felt the hard expanse of his chest pressing against your softer breasts. You cupped his cheek, feeling his stubble scratch against your skin and his soft, smooth lips enticed yours, coaxing them on and on into a sensual rhythm. You could have easily gotten lost in the moment, but your mind was going wild. You thought about all the times you’d wished for this moment and how you’d never thought it possible because of his love for Elise -

Elise!

You stiffened against him and pulled away completely, causing his arms to fall limply to his sides. Arno looked at you in a mixture of shock and confusion.

“Y/N - “

“Arno, what are you doing?” You cut him off.

“What do you mean?” He asked. “I thought -“

“What about Elise?” You pressed.

“What about her?” He countered, still looking confused.

“You’re in love with her,” you exclaimed, feeling exasperated. “Why would you kiss me?”

“I…” Words failed him, as he continued to look lost and confused.

Letting out a sigh of disappointment, you turned to walk away, needing to be on your own for a while so you could clear your head.

“Y/N!” He protested.

He attempted to stop you, but you were too far ahead of him and continued on your way.

***

A sense of melancholy overcame you as you walked through the streets of Paris, heading back to the Café Théâtre. You became alert when you heard loud, quick footsteps approaching you from behind.

“Y/N!” Arno called out, quickly catching up with you.

He took hold of your hand, spinning you around to face him.

“Would you just stop for a minute?” He breathed out, confused and frustrated.

You looked him right in the eye and in that moment you weren’t able to hold back. All of the feelings you’d kept pent up inside of you began to spill forth.

“You have no right, Arno!” You told him angrily. “No right! All this time, I loved you in silence, while watching you love another. I accepted it because your happiness was more important to me than my own. But it’s… it’s unfair for you to play with my emotions when you don’t even feel a fraction of the feelings I feel for you!”

Arno was startled and took a slight step back, his grip on your hand loosening.

“Y/N, I…” He faltered. “I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what, Arno? Didn’t think it would bother me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” He argued. “Just be quiet for a moment and let me speak!”

You obeyed, biting your tongue and looking at him through tear-filled eyes.

“I never knew you had feelings for me,” he told you. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“You didn’t just hurt me, Arno. Every time you were with her… you broke my heart.”

His face crumbled at your words, but he pressed on.

“That was never my intention,” he insisted. “I never, ever wanted you to feel that way. I… I’ve loved you for a long time and knowing you could have been hurt tonight… I couldn’t control myself.”

It was your turn to be startled, as you registered what he was saying. You hadn’t expected that - not in a million years.

“W-what?” You stammered.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he vowed. “I only ever wanted to see you safe and happy… not this.”

You softened at his words, considering the possibility of them being true.

“I… I don’t understand,” you told him. “You love Elise…”

“I just told you I love you,” he pressed. “What is it about that statement you find so hard to believe?”

“I just… I never thought it possible.”

He moved towards you, pulling you into his arms in a secure, loving embrace. You looked up at him and he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. He bent down to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, before moving his lips to your ear.

“Believe it, Y/N,” he whispered. “You’re the one I want.”

He left a trail of kisses along your jawline and your breath hitched. It was hard for you to accept that such an incredibly amazing thing could happen, but you willed your body to relax in his hold. His lips reached yours and he pulled you into a gentle, affectionate kiss. His mouth moved slowly against yours, the kiss deep as he drew it out and let the intense passion build between the two of you. One of his hands cradled your cheek, while the other held onto your hip securely. You placed your hands on his hard chest, tracing soft patterns there as you delighted in how it felt to kiss him.

His stubble tickled your cheeks, but his lips were soft and sensuous against yours. His tongue pressed against yours, teasing it with that curious mix of soft yet firm texture. You moaned into his mouth and he pulled away from the kiss slowly, before nipping at your swollen bottom lip. He trailed his kisses down your neck, his tongue teasing your skin and his teeth leaving marks as he bit you possessively. He moved his hand down from your cheek until both of them rested on your hips, squeezing lightly. Your breath became laboured at his ministrations, feeling overwhelmed with desire as he continued to torture your senses.

“A-Arno,” you breathed out. “We’re in the middle of the street…”

He pulled away reluctantly, letting out an amused chuckle.

“So we are,” he acknowledged. “I’ll take you inside then. You haven’t been in my room yet, have you?”

Your eyes widened at the suggestiveness of his words and his expression softened from a teasing one to an affectionate one.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said tenderly. “We won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I’m just… I’m overwhelmed. I never thought this would happen.”

“We’ll take it slow,” he promised. “Until you're ready to accept that I am very much yours.”

You nodded, taking his hand and moving to head back to the Café Théâtre, but he stopped you once again. You turned to face him and he regarded you seriously.

“And you’re mine, Y/N,” he continued. “Don’t forget it.”

You smiled shyly up at him and nodded in agreement. He smirked, satisfied with your words and allowed you to lead the way back.

#arno dorian x reader #arno dorian fanfic #arno dorian fanfiction #arno dorian imagine #arno dorian #assassin's creed unity

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

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Why Am I Not One with the Earth and Other Questions to Ask When Finding Yourself (Sashea) -Panic

AN: Hello! A little white ago I wrote a fic called “Is This what if Feels Like to Be Alive and Other Questions to Ask When Falling In Love” and I finally got around to writing it from Sasha’s perspective! I’m not sure which one I like more tbh. Unrelated note: I am working super hard on finishing up the next Chapter of Just Strangers, but I’m really stuck on a transition section, and it’s pretty long for me, so it’ll be a little while longer, but I did post a teaser of it on my Ao3, itwilleatyourbabies and I’m guessing it will be up around the last week of August, maybe a little sooner. Enjoy! -Panic

When Sasha was a child, she hated painting landscapes, she had never been able to paint the beauty that surrounded her, but she wanted too, she wanted to be one with the earth. Eventually, she realized that would never happen. She was fire, and she didn’t want anybody else to get burned.

She stood at the front of the soon to full gallery, glancing around at her body of work. The walls are filled with her abstract portraits, bright colors are ((assaulting)) her bright eyes. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t absolutely terrified.

This wasn’t Sasha Velour’s first gallery, but this one was different, she hadn’t pulled her inspirations from the outside world this time, she pulled her inspirations from herself, from her mind, from her struggles. A knock shocked her out of her thoughts. She turned on one heel toward the door, where Tiffany stood. Sasha felt her face break out into a bright smile, it’d been a few days since she’d last seen her long term girlfriend. Pushing open the door, Sasha grabbed Tiffany’s hand and pulled her into the gallery, pressing a firm kiss to her lips once she was safely inside.

She didn’t feel Tiffany smile into the kiss. Pulling away, she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. “It’s been so long!” Sasha exclaimed, excitement tangling with her earlier feelings of fear, creating a weird sensation inside of her body in the pit of her stomach, not like butterflies, more like a freight train ramming itself around inside of her.

“It’s only been a couple of days, babe.” Tiffany replied, voice cool and calm, the annoyance in her voice *faintly* hidden. Sasha sighed and looked down at the ground, lightly kicking one food against the smooth wood of the gallery. The silence was suffocating.

“I know, I just miss you.” She and Tiffany had always been total opposites. Tiffany was water, cold, but still inviting in the heat of the moment. She kept her emotions under control, under a veil of eyerolls and sarcastic comments. Tiffany was an ocean in the way that she seemed so inviting, so calming and cool, but like the ocean, it wasn’t always true. She could turn controlling, suffocating, in a single instant.

Sasha was fire. She was bright and passionate, filled with heat and determination but unable to understand when she had gotten too hot, when her heat began to drive people away, because even though she didn’t have great emotional control, she always meant well, but something about her always seemed to be too big, too bright for everybody else.

“What have you been up to the last couple of days.” Tiffany asked as she pulled farther away from Sasha’s embrace, turning her head to glance around at the portraits decorating the walls.

“Mostly working on this, getting final touches, planning what I’m going to say,” Sasha said, also taking a minute to admire her work, “I went to lunch with Shea yesterday.” She mumbled the last part, knowing Tiffany’s disdain for her friend. Tiffany sighed.

“You know I think you should stay a w a y from her.” Tiffany said, meeting Sasha’s eyes for the first time. She nodded, “She isn’t good for you,she has bad intentions Sasha, I can tell.” Now it was time for Sasha to turn away, she hated having this discussion so, fucking much.

Sasha glanced up to the clock and realizing the time, she exclaimed “It starts in ten minutes oh god oh god oh god.” Tiffany rolled her eyes as Sasha leapt to prop the door open.

It wasn’t much later when the area began to fill with people. Sasha greeted as many as she could, friends and family came, but also buyers, and journalists, Sasha was delirious with nerves as she greeted her guests, Tiffany never far behind her. As Sasha stood up to speak, her eyes caught a girl standing to her left, Shea.

If Sasha was fire, Shea was earth. Grounding, safe, a lovely final resting place. Shea was familiarity and comfort and feelings of hot chocolate on cold winter days, Sasha would never admit it to herself but Shea felt like home. Their eyes met and Sasha felt warm, flustered but she shook it off, smiling and Shea and walking towards her, but before she could, Tiffany wrapped her arm around Sasha’s waist, suffocating her. She can feel fingernails digging into her waist, her eyes drop the floor, but soon enough she’s engulfed in her work again, monologuing about the next piece on the walls. She pretends to ignore the way Tiffany glares at her.

Shea made Sasha want to paint landscapes.

…

If Sasha’s honest, she never thought they’d break up. Sure, there were problems; plenty of them, but she never thought it would end in a breakup. It was a day after the gallery, as Sasha trudged up the stairs to Tiffany’s apartment she could tell something was off.

She knocked on the door, it was silent for a few suffocating moments before the door opened. Tiffany said nothing, just pushed the door wide enough for Sasha to duck in. Once the door shut behind her, She stood facing Tiffany. For a minute, nobody said anything they just stared at each other. Brown meeting blue. Water meeting fire.

“There’s not an easy way to say this…” Tiffany started out, not meeting Sasha’s eyes. Sasha nodded, biting down on her lip.

“I’m…. god, I’m so sorry, Sasha, but I’m seeing somebody else.” Sasha looked up meeting Tiffany’s eyes for the first time. She willed herself not to cry, but she could feel the tears welling up her eyes. She jerked away from Tiffany, but she didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry.” Tiffany said again. Taking a deep breath Sasha turned back to Tiffany and finally spoke.

“You were worried about my relationship with Shea, all while you were seeing somebody else?” Sasha was in total disbelief, Tiffany said nothing.

“You were so controlling and overprotective of who I talked too, all while you were cheating on me with somebody else?” Tiffany finally spoke.

“I felt unwanted, what else did you want me to do?” Sasha let out an exasperated sigh.

“Maybe talked to me? There were plenty of times where I felt unwanted but I talked to you every.single.time. It happened.”

“Well, you were always with Shea, what did you want me to do?”

“This isn’t about Shea. This is about us, or rather, this is about you.” She muttered through gritted teeth; but, Sasha couldn’t help but feel a stir in the back of her mind, had she been spending too much time with Shea?

“You’re always spending time with her, ‘hey Tiff, I’m going to lunch with Shea.’ ‘Oh, Shea has a dance recital tomorrow, she’s going to do great.’’

“Listen Tiff, I’m sorry, too.” Sasha started out, but Tiffany stopped her before she could go too far.

“I don’t think you are though.”

“You cheated on me, and I’m the one apologizing so honestly I should probably just go.”

“Go, then.” Sasha didn’t responded, but as she left, she heard Tiffany whisper.

“I never loved you.”

Sasha pretended not to hear anything.

To Shea: Are you free?

To Shea: Please? I need to see you.

To Shea: Shea?

To Sasha: What’s wrong?

To Sasha: Sasha?

To Shea: Meet me at my studio.

To Sasha: See you in ten.

Sasha tried to paint. She really did, she had paint splattered across the canvas but it wasn’t speaking to her, not like it used to. Sasha was used to painting people, abstract entities and goddesses but her mind was only filled with pictures of the earth,

bright buildings and bridges flashed across her mind in

radiant hues,

turned around

flipped upside down,

the pops of color where just too //blinding//

but she couldn’t tell why.

She heard Shea’s footsteps, quietly, she set down her paint brush and walked into Shea’s arms, she felt grounding, sturdy.

The walk to the cafe is quiet, Sasha doesn’t know what to say. Something seems to be off, but she can’t tell what it is. The cafe they’re in is loud, almost deafeningly to the point where she cannot form the words in her mouth, they sit there, like sand, dry and impossible to swallow. Sasha takes a deep breath and sighs into her coffee, looking at Shea and finally saying it.

“Tiffany and I… we broke up, I guess? And I don’t know, I’m…. She… she said some really hurtful shit, so, yeah.’ Shea nodded, taking Sasha’s hand, sending sparks up her arm.

“You did the right thing, Sasha, I know it probably hurts like hell now but I’m sure it’ll all turn out for the best.” Shea’s eyes betrayed her, showed just a little bit of sadness, like a puddle next to a flowing river. The world is too loud of Sasha, she can feel the blood pumping in her ears as she tries maintains eye contact with Shea. She feels like she is on fire, her body is burning with something she does not quite recognize and it hurts.

But, like always, Shea is there to ground her, to shelter her and keep her safe from herself, from the fire that threatens to swallow her up when things aren’t going to great.

Shea breaks the eye contact first, unusual. Sasha does moments after her before whispering.

“What’s

Wrong?”

Shea pulls her hand away from Sasha as she trains her eyes on the busy Brooklyn street through the window.

“I think,” Her voice is quieter than Sasha has ever heard a gentle rumble that shook Sasha’s very core, the warning of thunder before the storm, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Everything is happening too fast, She attempts to process the words that left her friend’s mouth but she just can’t. The words fall on Sasha’s shoulders like raindrops, quick, and all at once. Shea leaves the table, she doesn’t look at Sasha nor does she listen as Sasha calls her name down the street words echoing back to her.

…

Ironically enough, it is raining. Sasha pulls her jacket around her even closer as she walks down the street to the subway station, she can feel the rain twirling inside of her hair, her skin is wet but as she boards the dry subway station she can still feel the raindrops falling on her skin. She isn’t thinking, at least, not as well as she should be and that hurts, a reminder that even the strongest fires can be put out by enough water.

When she was a kid, her parents used to take her camping, and she remembers clearly the feeling of calm that came with lying against the cool earth, the sun beating down on her neck reminding her that she is alive. She loved sleeping in tents, pressing her body against the world below her and now she’s wondering if she’ll ever feel calm like that again. The earth feels like it is moving beneath her feet and it feels like she is floating in space as she walks up to Shea’s apartment building, she is searching for something that will ground her for the first time in years and she knows that she will find it here.

Shea’s drunk, but she let Sasha in without question. Sasha’s heart is pounding in her chest again as she takes Shea’s hands, she wants answers.

Shea tells her that she is every hope that she has ever had, but in human form, the words bury themselves into Sasha’s skin and make their home there; and, even though she cannot find the words, it feels as though Shea understands as they smash their lips together in what feels like the most beautiful storm Sasha’s ever seen.

Being wrapped in Shea’s arms feels like camping as a kid, it feels like Sasha is pressed into the earth again and she just wants them to be one. When she paints the earth she knows it is Shea she is painting but she can’t find the strokes to get Shea’s beauty just right so she paints the world around her, it is bright and stunning and a little backwards, but it feels like home.

#sashea #sasha velour #shea coulee #elements inspired #panic #rpdr fanfiction #lesbian au

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