#I wish Helen had more content no one loves her like me

[witchlingcirce]

I have a very particular head canon that all the blackthorns are tall, they all just give tall energy. I should also quickly note this is mostly based on like, how tall they’ll be once they stop growing 😭😭

Helen: Idk how her height is described in the books but she has always seemed tall to me, like around 5’10 AT LEAST.

Julian: IK Cassie has some bias against making any of the guys in her book above 5:11 (shout out James, Shout out Thomas u made it out of the trenches) But I imagine Julian being 6’2 6’3… something about him….

Mark: Falling back onto Cassie’s curse I can see him being a reasonable 5’10-6’. He’s meant to be around the same height as Julian IK that but idk… he gives 5’10 energy, him and Simon need to unite as 5’10 bros

Livvy: okay I don’t really imagine as THAT tall, I can see 5’7, I feel like that’s tall but not tooooo tall. She gives off 5’7 vibes.

Ty: he has to be freakishly tall like Jules, he gives off tall and lanky vibes. He’s defffff 6’ and above!!!

Dru: She has to be somewhere between 5’7-5’9. She’s always described as tall, so personally I can imagine her being tall.

Emma: I saw someone do some weird maths calculations about the respective heights of the TDA characters, and they said Emma would have been 5’6 which honestly is what I see. I can also see 5’7, I feel like she wouldn’t be short but I don’t imagine her being very tall!!!

BTW this is fun and probably doesn’t correlate with canon, but I just imagine there all tall freaks and they tower over everyone !!!

[munsonluhvr]

THE CANDY GRAM CONSPIRACY (DAY #1: LOVE LETTER EVENT)

contents: SFW (light cussing). Steve, your secret admirer, sends you a candy gram with a compelling message. word count - 2k

notes: happy first day of the love letter event. I'm soo excited to share this, and all the other fics written for this event, with you. happy love week! - Helen

love letter event masterlist

“You’re an idiot, Steve.” Dustin Henderson says, shaking his head as he stands with Steve at the candy gram table. “She’s going to be totally freaked out if she gets a message from someone anonymous and you think she’s going to want to show up to the restaurant? Dumbest way to waste ten dollars.” Steve fumbles with his pockets, searching for the paper bills he made sure he brought to school for this exact occasion. Finally, Steve grasps the money in his pocket, pulling it out swiftly and handing it to the girl behind the table. “But she’ll find out it’s just me, I mean I think she already knows I like her.” 

“Steve, you’re completely missing the point.” Dustin says. 

The girl running the candy gram table puts Steve’s money in the metal lockbox, taking a pen and a note card to give to Steve. As she listens the two boys converse, she can’t help but roll her eyes. “Write a little message if you would like. It’ll go with the candy gram.” 

“It’s going to work, Dustin, you just watch.” Steve says, glancing at Dustin. Steve bends down, strands of his hair falling across his forehead. He sticks out his tongue between his lip, captured by concentration. 

From afar, I watch you shine,  In every step, a dance divine.  Though hidden deep, my feelings soar,  In this secret, I adore you more. 

Your presence, a joy that lights up my day, Secretly admiring in every single way.  So, here’s a small poem, a whisper, a sign, Of a love that’s deep, and ever so fine. 

Love, Your Secret Admirer (Meet me at Enzo’s, tonight, at 9)

Steve leans back, positively satisfied by his poetry skills. He hands the small notecard to Dustin who takes it in his hand, his eyes pinched in analyzation. After a minute, Dustin drops his hand, his face expressing how impressed he was; he hands the card back to Steve. “I didn’t know you could write poetry.”  

You slump in your desk chair, your elbow resting on the tabletop, your chin resting in your hand. You watch as the candy gram girls pass by your desk, showcasing that you’re one class closer to realizing you were an idiot for thinking Steve Harrington would buy you a candy gram. 

It was your fourth class, only two periods left in the day, and you had only received three candy grams: one from your parents, the other two from your best friends. Of course, you were grateful for the ones you got, you loved the thoughtful gifts from your parents and friends, but was it so terrible to wish Steve would demonstrate that he feels the same way as you do? 

You and Steve were friends, of some sort, existing in an ambivalent grey area. Steve and you had experienced many ‘close calls:’ your lips brushing his once or twice, a couple kisses here and there, and many, just so many, instances of touches on each other’s arms and hands that lingered for a little too long. However, Steve never told you he liked you, never made the effort to ask you out. 

You’re zoning out in class, whispers going on behind you as girls receive candy grams from their boyfriends or friends distracting you from your geometry class. Just as your mind is going around the bend to being mad at Steve, about to promise to never talk to him again, a presence next to you jolts you out of your mind. A girl with long blond hair, tied back in a ponytail, a chubby cheek smile on her face, places a tiny, plush teddy bear holding a small bag of conversation heart candies on your desk. “It came with this,” the girl says, placing an envelope onto your desk as well. She saunters off quickly, squeaking ‘bye’ to your math teacher, closing the door behind her.

You sit still, your eyes trained on the teddy bear that stares back at you. It’s white, pink hearts scattered across it’s body. It’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

For a moment, you’re excited again, the potential of the bear being sent by Steve sending your hopes soaring up to the sky. You tear the flap away from the body of the envelope, sliding out the small note card. Your eyes scan the page, flying down to the bottom to find Steve’s signature – except it’s not there; ‘Love, your Secret Admirer. Meet me at Enzo’s, tonight, at 9’ is in its place. You frown. You look above the signature line, your eyes reading a poem scribbled across the page. Your heart swells, pulsing with toothachingly sweet emotions. Who wrote this? 

As you put your textbooks into your locker, exchanging them out for the textbooks for your next class, your best friends Rena and Steph are bent over the secret admirer note. “Listen, if you don’t want whoever wrote this poem because you’re stuck on Steve, I’ll take him.” Rena says, shaking her head as she begins to read the poem for the third time. 

“And he’s taking you to Enzo’s. My dad told my mom he’d take her there for their wedding anniversary, my mom got super dressed up and everything, and he made them leave and go to Benny’s Burgers instead because it was too expensive.” Steph says, glancing up at you. “Aren’t you curious to find out who sent you the candy gram?” 

You shrug, closing the door of your locker. “I guess but I just don’t understand Steve. We have all this tension between us, but he won’t ask me out. Do you think he’s seeing someone else?” You ask, frowning. 

“Who cares? You have someone writing you poetry and you’re giving a fuck about Steve?” Rena says with a scoff. “That head of hair lost his chance, now you have someone confessing their love for you through poetry. Say ‘Sayonara Steve’ already.”

You pout, crossing your arms over your chest. Steph wraps an arm around your shoulder, bringing you close to her, while shooting a look at Rena for her abrasiveness. “How about this. Rena and I will come over later and help you get ready for your date – it’ll be fun, I promise.” 

You nod, leaning into your friend. “Come over early, I’ll need a total makeover.” 

“I wonder who it could be?” Rena says, a fistful of your hair in her hand, a brush in her other hand. You sit at your vanity table, your hands resting on your lap as Rena strokes the brush through your hair, dividing sections of your hair to begin styling it. “Maybe it’s that Gareth guy, he’s always staring at you from across the cafeteria.” 

Steph laughs from across the room, her body stretched out across your bed, one of your magazines in her hands. “Gareth wouldn’t have the balls to write poetry and send it to a girl.” 

You sigh listening to your friends create conspiracies about who wrote the note, making fictitious reasons for the secret admirer to go such lengths to ask you out. You were curious too, your stomach twisting with anticipation. What if you didn’t like who the secret admirer was once his identity is revealed. “Are we sure this isn’t a prank?” You ask, beginning to worry. 

“That would be one expensive prank; I had to empty my piggy bank to send you both candy grams.” Rena mutters, beginning to put pins in your hair. 

Steph hums. “It’s not a prank, y/n, just someone who’s trying to be unique with asking you out to dinner.” 

You sigh again, staring at your reflection. You notice your pout that’s settled on your mouth, the disappointment of no candy gram from Steve bumming you out. Maybe this was a sign to let Steve go, allow others into your life. You take a deep breath, deciding to change your attitude. 

“What do you guys think I should wear?” 

At the same time, Rena and Steph begin to ramble, Steph getting up from her seat on your bed to flip through the hangers in your closet. Rena steps away from you, looking at her work on your hair: your hair is half up, half down, framing your face perfectly. She hums, satisfied, and picks up some of your makeup on your vanity. “I think you should wear that pink dress; you know the one that goes to your mid-thigh, the little bows on the shoulder.”

 “This one?” Steph says, pulling the exact dress out of the closet. “It’s perfect, you have to wear it, y/n.” 

You look over your shoulder, smiling as you nod. “You’re right it’s perfect.” 

Nine o’clock comes around faster than you were prepared for, your friends climbing into Steph’s station wagon to drive you to Enzo’s. The ride over was short, bringing you passed downtown Hawkins, the dark streets illuminated by the lit-up streetlights. Your stomach twisted with anticipation and nervousness, the emotions rising up in your throat. In several minutes, Steph pulls up to the front of Enzo’s, the grand sign hanging above the restaurants entrance.

“Be brave!” Rena says, turning in the passenger seat to look at you in the backseat. “You look stunning, whoever it is will be blown away.” 

Steph turns to look at you too, an encouraging smile on her face. “Give whoever it is a chance, the poem was amazing, they might surprise you.” 

You nod, unlatching the car door. “Thank you guys for everything, I would never look this good if it weren’t for you both.” 

They laugh waving goodbye to you. You shut the car door behind you once you’re out, propelling yourself towards the restaurant door.  “Don’t forget to call us and tell us everything when you get home,” Rena exclaims, hanging out the passenger window. Steph begins to pull away from the building, Rena waving until she pulls herself back into the car. And you’re left alone. 

Your friend’s advice echo’s in your mind; ‘give whoever it is a chance.’ No matter who it is, you’re going to have a good time tonight, appreciating the kind gesture of a sweet poem and an amazing dinner at Enzo’s. Your friends had put a lot of effort to make you feel good about yourself, preparing you for such a unique situation. With one last deep breath, you pull the restaurant door open, immediately greeted by the mouthwatering smell of Italian food. 

The restaurant is dark, and busy, Valentine’s day proving to be one of their busiest days of the year. The tables are all crowded, the low hum of conversation passing through the building. There is a glow that illuminates the inside, candles lit at every table adding a soft, romantic essence. Your eyes scan the tables, in search of spotting a familiar face. Your fingers grasp each other, your digits squeezing together with nervousness. How will you ever find your secret admirer?

Just then, the room goes dark, your sight blinded by a pair of hands that cover your eyes. You didn’t know if you should scream or jaw your elbow backwards into the person that stands behind you. Your shoulders ease when a familiar voices murmurs into your ear. “Guess who?”  

You smile wide, spinning yourself around. Steve stands before you, wearing a crisp tux, his hair slicked back, a flower bouquet in his hand. “Steve?” you say, throwing your arms around him. “You sent me the candy gram?” 

Steve nods, his arms wrapping around your torso. “Were you hoping it was someone else?” 

You shake your head, leaning your body against him. “No, I was wishing it was you.” 

Steve leans back from your embrace, brushing the back of your hand across your cheekbone. “You look absolutely beautiful, y/n.” Steve says, his eyes taking in every inch of your face. “I should have asked you to be my girlfriend sooner, but I wanted it to be special. Asking on Valentine’s day seems cliché, but I liked the idea.” 

Your eyebrows raise, your mouth opening slightly. “T-To be your girlfriend?” 

Steve nods, flipping his hand over for the pad of his thumb to brush across your bottom lip. “Will you?” 

Leaning on the tip of your toes, you push your lips into Steve’s, doing away with all the ‘almost’ kisses you’ve had with him. “Of course, I will,” you murmur against his mouth. 

[skythighs]

Calista's Dream

Hi there, this is my first ever attempt at writing and posting anything on Tumblr. I won't lie it's a bit intimidating. However, I decided to give it a try. I love Feyd so much that I was compelled to go for it. This will be a series. I'm not sure how long yet. I wont be following the Dune storyline fyi. This part is in 3rd person but the rest will not be done this way, it just happened and I couldn't stop it lol.All of pictures from my collage are from pintrest and I don't claim them as my own I just put them together for a little vibe.

word count:1.9k

Introduction

10175 AG

“A girl! Your Grace, a healthy baby girl.” called Dr Yueh.

The rolling thunder was all the louder in the silent room. The Red Duke found himself confused, disappointed and yet joyous. He had begged Jessica for a son and yet here he stood father to a daughter. Jessica watched him closely from the birthing bed. She was covered in sweat and utterly relieved her duty was done. 

“Come name your daughter Your Grace.” Said Lady Jessica calmly.

Duke Leto walked across the room slowly and gracefully as if he didn't feel the floor falling out from under his feet. Jessica held the girl snuggly against her chest. The babe was resting peacefully; she hadn't even cried as she made her way into the world. 

“Is she well?” Inquired Duke Leto hesitantly. 

“She is quite healthy. Small but strong.” Answered the doctor. 

Jessica passed the child into his arms. Only once wrapped securely in his arms did she open her big gray eyes. His heart skipped a beat and he was overwhelmed with unconditional love for his daughter. Although she isn’t the son he asked for, she was perfect. His perfect daughter and he would cherish her until his dying day.

“Calista. Calista Atreides.”

“A lovely name.” Said Lady Jessica, smiling to herself.

“It means most beautiful, because she surely is the most beautiful thing i've ever seen. Thank you Jessica, for giving me more than I could have imagined.”

Calista Atreides came with one of the biggest storms in Caladan’s history and much like a storm she was the calm that inevitably followed. 

Leto happily announced her birth and named her his heir leaving many shocked at his decision. He could still have sons even if Lady Jessica wasn’t willing to give them to him, but he was content. Now that he had Calista he didn’t want anything. She was enough, she was a part of him and he was proud. His love for Jessica grew tenfold knowing that she had given him such a gift. 

Thufir Hawat was adamant the Duke reconsider naming his daughter as heir to House Atreides. He came up with endless possibilities of such a thing ending catastrophically whenever he tried to calculate a better outcome none came forward. 

“My Duke, she could be taken away and trained by the Bene Gesserit. She would not be a true Atreides then. She would be one of them.”

Leto considered this and simply informed Thufir his beloved daughter would never be taken from Caladan while there was breath in his body.

By 10185 The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam arrived on Caladan unannounced no less stating urgent business for Lady Jessica in the middle of the night. The Reverend mother wanted to lay eyes on the girl herself. For she could barely accept that Jessica defied her most beloved Duke.

After formalities and respects were paid. Gaius demanded to be brought to Calista Atreides.

Lady Jessica led her through the corridors silently. Neither of them spoke for they both knew the true meaning of this visit. This mere girl would bring forth the Kwisatz Haderach, and she must undergo proper training despite the Duke's wishes to keep her home.They reached the girls chambers and Jessica opened the door as quietly as possible. However when they looked upon her the child was not asleep. She was looking right at them from the comfort of her many blankets and pillows.

“Cali, there is someone you must meet.” Lady Jessica coaxed her from under the mountain of blankets.

Calista sat up and looked at the Reverend mother in the doorway. She felt a strong dislike for the old croon right away. Feeling such a strong aversion to the woman she tensed once she saw her step over the threshold into her bedroom. 

“You look like a viper ready to strike, child. Why?” Asked the old woman her crows feet deepening.

Cali looked at her mother with a question in her innocent brown eyes. Eyes that were once gray like Letos.

“Speak freely Calista. Lies will do you no justice here.”

“I saw you once before, in a dream..in a nightmare.”

Mohiam lifted her head, not surprised by the revelation.

“And what happened in this nightmare?”

“I only remember the start and the finish of the nightmare. You take me away from my home, from my father.”

Jessica stroked her daughter's thick wavy hair. Hair as black as Leto's own.

“What else?” prompted Jessica.

“I die. I die before my time.”

A deafening silence fell upon the three of them.

“How do you die?”

“Bloody and split open, before my child can take his first breath, before he can live.”

Jessica gasps. Calista never mentioned any such dream to her. She saw the boy, the Kwisatz Haderach, the one she was made to bring forth into the world. The poor girl was only ten years old, and yet she knew she would die in childbirth if taken by the sisterhood. 

“And this all stemmed from you being given formal training by the sisterhood? How do I know this isn’t some ploy for you to stay on Caladan.”

“Lies would do no justice here Reverend mother. If what I said was untrue you would know.”

The finality in the statement of a mere child felt too confounding, too absolute. At only ten years old, a babe to this infinite existence of time and space this child carried an air of understanding. 

The truth of the matter was Gaius Helen Mohiam intended on taking Calista this very night to begin training as a Bene Gesserit sister. At ten years old, she had already spent too much time with her parents on caladan when normally she would have been taken during infancy to assure the best outcome of her purpose. However, this was different. She was the Duke's heir, and she was the mother of the Messiah, and somehow, leaving Caladan this night would assure her doom and that of their long-awaited plans. Not only would she die in childbirth, but so would her son. 

“You may stay here child, your mother will train you herself, but you must know you will leave Caladan one day never to return.”

“My mother told me you can’t see the future.”

Ah, there it was the Atreides defiance. Mohiam thought and with that she returned to her no ship leaving Calista tucked away safely in her bed. Her training wasn’t worth the life of all that they had waited for. Jessica was skilled enough to train her here from the comfort of Caladan, it would do.

Calista Atreides was her father's daughter. She was much more Leto than Jessica in every way that counted. She was born an Atreides, and perhaps she would die that way too, but one thing was certain she would never be a part of the sisterhood.

That very same week Leto informed Gurney to begin training Cali in combat. Ten years old was plenty old enough to learn self defense.

“Okay little duchess I want you to mimic my movements as best you can. Like this. “ he demonstrated some simple stances and movements for her to follow. She did so with ease.

“Excellent form Cali, you're a natural. Now I want you to use the movements I've shown you and strike me here.”  he pointed to his padded chest. Small but mighty indeed she fought with everything she had. He didn't even have to coax it out of her. 

“Your father will be very proud to hear of your progress Cali.”

“When will we use swords Gurney?” He smiled at that and the large scar on his face rippled.

“One thing at a time little lady. One thing at a time.”

As the years went on Calista mastered hand to hand combat as well as sword fighting which was led by Duncan Idaho. The discipline needed for sword fighting didn't come as naturally as hand to hand but with time and practice she got there. Her small stature allowed her to move quickly and efficiently. Striking fast and moving away from danger was her usual tactic. 

Over the years she did train with her mother Lady Jessica in the arts of the sisterhood however her heart was not in it as it was with her combat training. Along with combat and Bene Gesserit skills she was taught history, linguistics, and politics at an extensive level. 

When she was just thirteen her father received an order from Emperor Shaddam IV stating she was to be betrothed to Feyd Fautha Harkonnen, the Na Baron of Giedi Prime. He was just one year her senior and already quite the capable Harkonnen if the rumors were to be believed. He was vicious for one so young and Leto feared what would become of his precious Calista. A knock on his study door broke him from his deep thoughts.

“Father, can I come in?”

“Come in Cali, there's something I want to discuss with you.”

His dark haired dark eyed daughter walked to him still in her training clothes. She was still small for her age but her eyes held a wisdom he could never understand. 

“I’ve just received word on your betrothal from the Emperor himself. You are to wed Feyd Rautha Harkonnen on your twentieth birthday. In just six short years I will have to part with you- only for a time.”

“Feyd Rautha. I’ve heard of him, he is my age ,and the Barons chosen heir over his elder brother Glossu Rabban.”

“Yes my darling girl. You are very well informed on these matters it seems.” He pulled her to his armrest so she could sit with him.

She put her small hand on his cheek.

“You look very troubled by this news father. Why?”

“The Emperor forcing my hand in this makes it feel as though you’re a sacrificial lamb being led to slaughter.”

He squints his eyes as he looks at her. He wasn’t sure why he said such a thing to his own daughter but he couldn’t help being truthful at this moment, he would never lie to himself so he would grant her the same courtesy.

“I am no lamb, father. I am you. Feyd Rautha Harkonnen will have no choice but to treat me according to my station. I am a Duke's heir in my own right. I am your heir, your beloved Calista. Do not fear, fear is the mind killer.”

He smiled hearing her mirror her mothers words.

“You are me. I would like to increase your combat training. You’ve made incredible progress these last few years, but when you leave the comfort of your home I want to be certain no matter what the Harkonnen intend, you can hold your own.”

“Size doesn’t matter, skill matters, heart matters. Any man that mistakes me for a lamb will pay with his life.”

“Now you sound like Gurney.”

He kissed his daughter's forehead and sent her on her way. He had to send his reply to the Emperor. He would accept the betrothal with conditions of course. Feyd Rautha would court her properly and he would meet her family face to face on her home planet a month before the wedding. It was not much, but at least it was something.

[shaperaverse-brainrot]

@steampunk-raven thank you so much, I'm going to do Han first and then maybe Sarah in a reblog at some point.

First Impression

Gotta admit I kinda panicked at first when Helen introduced her with "dark oriental magic she brings to us from the east" but literally the next line it turned out Paul Shapera was critiquing the trope rather than making her play right into it so...

Impression now

Where do I even begin. I love her. She's awesome. I wish I could draw or write her more but I really struggle making her look/sound as awesome as she does in my head. She might not be my absolute all time favourite Shaperaverse character but she's at least top six. Maybe top five.

Favourite moment

I really like the storytelling in Han Mi's storytime theatre. It's probably just her actor's voice (Psyche I think? My mind is blank right now) but the narration style in it is amazing. Oh and Han saying Mary "wouldn't send someone on a dangerous journey she wouldn't do herself" THE SIDE EYE IN THE VOICE I'M SORRY

My favourite oddly specific moment has to be when Han Mi shaking with tears and having just gone through one of the most awful moments of her life is begging Henry to get it up

Idea for a story

Well I asked for these characters to be sent just to procrastinate on writing a fic with Han in so...

Apart from that I would be really interested in exploring her flowering in comparison to Lloyd's. Maybe Lloyd can find her after a nightmare or she could admit that she's really been struggling dealing with everything and Lloyd draws comparisons between her and him hiding away after Matt's death.

Unpopular Opinion

I don't think I really have one? I think the closest I would have is that I wish we got more of her and Raven growing closer, especially given how important she is to Raven's while redemption arch thing. Like we have little snippets from twitter tales, Raven in Lost Fairy, and of course the postie cabaret, and it may just be me wishing for more happy postie content but yeah. And I wish we got Raven's reaction to finding out he not only had a daughter, but that daughter got to grow up, and start a family of her own

Favourite relationship

I have already ranted about her and Raven in the Raven ask I got, so I'll choose to speak about Han and Henry in this one. They're the only surviving members of the cabaret, and the fact that if Han could go on an adventure anywhere with anyone she'd go on a pirate adventure with Henry???? (If I recall correctly). I love them so much. And it is of my opinion that a big reason she couldn't skip Henry's wedding was because she was his best man (best woman?)

Favourite headcanon

She looks almost nothing like Raven or Isabela. Sure, maybe there's something in her smile, or in a curious expression she wears that looks so much like David getting used to the August Sky Playhouse, or when you see her from a certain angle and she holds herself in a similar way Isabela did, but you wouldn't know they were related unless you were told.

Even so, Raven likes to joke that she truly is their grandkid. She may not look like them, but she has a similar sense of humour to Raven, she can hold her own and plan shenanigans in a similar way Isabela did. She likes to give shiny gifts to people and experiment with her appearance and expression like her great-grandpa does.

And Raven is prouder of her than anything else. He doesn't know if Isabela would be, but he tells Han she would have been, anyway.

[newsatsix1986]

With the words that have been shared by some members of The Newsreader's community in the recent month or two, it's been a complex minefield for me to navigate. Outwardly I have appeared happy and business as usual, but internally it's been a bit different.

The Newsreader to me and many others is a mixture of a lot of things; beautiful stories of connection between complex characters, strong, lovable characters we can see ourselves in and can be inspired by, and stories from history that are compelling, joyous and also harrowing and gutwrenching. I try to focus on everything here at News At Six 1986, and to further tell all the stories that the writers have started, with as many characters as I can utilise for this.

For a good while this month I have been finding myself second guessing a lot of things I've done in relation to my content. It's been like I've felt alienated from the community just because I wasn't further fuelling the fire of a certain headcanon ship, and offering a holistic experience and a perspective that was different to that. Was I really seeing the show the wrong way because I personally don't follow that narrative eagerly? Was I the weird one to see it as being more than just the Dale and Tim show and wanting to create fan content focused on more than that? Was there even a place for my content at all? Some things said in relation to Dale and his sexuality - both explicitly and in a round about way - have also hit very personally for me as a bi girl too, making me question myself in that regard too; something that I shouldn't be made to feel or do.

With the reassurance of some wonderful people behind the scenes, I have reconciled that there IS a place for what I create, and there are definitely some people that will appreciate it. So continuing along this path is something that I shall do!

I want this post to serve as a gentle reminder. It is okay and lovely to fiercely love a ship in a show, but it is not kind at all to go on the posts of people who offer the different perspective to try to derail it or dissuade them from it, nor is it okay to say that the writers have made a "mistake" by not following through on your personal wishes for the show. I am personally Helen × Dale, but I will never go on someone's Dale × Tim post to dissuade them. There was one user here on Tumblr I had to block due to harrassment on my posts and also showing similar disrespect to friends and the writer's vision for his own show.

It's also vital that you ensure the way you do discuss Dale and his sexuality does not intentionally or unintentionally perpetuate messages of biphobia. He wouldn't be automatically happier if he had an intimate relationship with Tim - his self-acceptance journey is more complex than that - and his queer identity is just as valid when he's in a relationship with Helen. I wasn't any less queer when I was with my ex-boyfriend; for example, nor was I just gay in denial. My complex feelings about my self-acceptance wouldn't be automatically resolved if I had a girlfriend; there's more to it than that. Both sets of feelings co-existed genuinely. The world is more than just gay and straight - the in between exists, and as this show stands right now, that's what it represents.

Also please ensure that how you speak about Helen doesn't further spread mental health stigma or underlying misogyny - holding her to a higher standard than the male characters for the times she might make rash decisions, voices her opinions, or struggles. She should be afforded the same empathy as Dale in her moments of crisis. The show is a dual lead and her story matters too.

Michael Lucas - the show's creator - has made it very clear that Dale's love and attraction and need for intimacy with Helen is real, whilst obviously acknowledging his attraction to men, and that both characters don't neatly fit into labels in relation to their sexuality (Dale) and mental health struggles (Helen); that there is a purposeful sense of ambiguity and an unconventional nature to their relationship, but the love and care between them is undeniable. They sit authentically in the mess of life, and many have identified with them, including myself. I see myself in both of them. How lucky we are to have them, and they both should be celebrated, supported and accepted as such. As should everyone in general.

~ Erin 💖

[lil228]

Red White and Royal Blue Wrap Up

Wrap Up

Rating: 9.5/10 

Prediction Points: 7

Who I would recommend this book to: Any young people who are queer, or queer allies, those who like happy endings, people who like romance and don’t mind a little bit of cheese. 

Quick Thoughts

It’s books like these that remind me why I read. I read to feel less alone, I read for enjoyment, I read to feel emotions. I read to connect with other people, and I read to become a better writer. This books did all of those things for me. I giggled and held back tears. It is books such as Red White and Royal Blue that make me feel like there is a place for queer romance in mainstream and literature and pop culture.  The characters are well rounded, the plot is original, the romance believable and compelling. In short I love this book.

Characters 

Favorite Character: Prince Henry and Amy.

The characters in this book were each unique and felt like real people. They spoke and acted like real people. The young 20 somethings behaved like real 20 somethings. They never used outdated slang, or acted like 45 year olds. All of the character who were supposed to likable were, and they were easy to root for. The book did a really nice job with Helen who could have easily been written as another workaholic parent who no time for her children, but she isn’t. It’s clear that she cares about her children, and views herself as a mother first and then the President. She is a realistic depiction of a mother who both loves her children, and can be frustrated by them at times. Each character felt unique, and everything they said (or typed/texted) and did felt real. Each character had a unique voice. I do wish we had either gotten more Pez, or that the author had cut him entirely, apart from the youth shelters he seemed to have little to no impact on the plot or other characters much- especially compared to June, Nora and Bea. I also wish that we had gotten mention of  Amy having a wife or being trans a little earlier as I think it would have made the representation a bit more impactful.  

Plot

I knew I wanted to read this book as soon as I heard the premise. I don’t normally read romance because I don’t enjoy reading about conflicts within a relationship, and I usually end up thinking one of the parties at least a little bit on an ass. However I adore forbidden/secret romance stories. I like these stories because the source of conflict comes from outside the relationship, rather than from within the relationship. This book also handles the enemies to lovers aspect really well. The characters have a genuine, honest conversation about what has caused the atomicity, and are able to work through it, and genuine apologies are given. I also like that the reason Alex doesn't like Henry isn’t something Henry did with malicious intent, but Henry still apologizes. I also really like that both Henry and Alex’s immediate families (minus Philip) were supportive. The spicy senses were implied in a tasteful way, but I was still a little uncomfortable reading them, but I really think that this comes down to the fact that I was reading the book at work, and that I am still new to reading books with that type of content.

Final Thoughts

This book was amazing. I know that it can be cheesy at times, but I think that’s part of why I like it. Not every queer love story has to end in disownment or disaster, sometimes the romance works out, and the characters are happy by the end. This book made me fall in love with reading all over again. The humor is great, and the serious moments do a great job at invoking emotions. This book was chalk full of distinct and likable characters. Both Alex and Henry are likable and charming in their own ways, both they and their romance was easy to root for. This book also dose a nice job at exploring some difficult topics such as homophobia, invasions of privacy, coming out, politics discovering ones sexuality, being outed, and public vs private images of public figures. It manages to handle of these topics while still managing to be a lovely romance. I love this book and have a feeling it will be one that I re-read at least a few times. 

[cartograffiti]

July '23 reading diary

I'm reading so many books these days that I've decided monthly posts would be a fun way to think about what books are grabbing me and shove them in front of other people.

In July I finished 12 books, many of them really lovely.

This summer I've been reading all of Cat Sebastian's 20th century romances, because I'd already read all her 18th and 19th century ones. I like her work a lot, because it's full of really powerful romantic gestures and she writes domestic slice of life as well as crimes. In July I read the last three I needed to have read her whole body of work, and found a new favorite.

Peter Cabot Gets Lost and Daniel Cabot Puts Down Roots are the second and third in a romance series that can easily be read out of order, all about estranged queer members of a Kennedys-ish political family. Peter's is a 1960s coast-to-coast road trip about fresh college grads with outstanding grumpy for sunshine chemistry, and it's the one that became my new favorite (my previous favorite was A Duke in Disguise). It has a wonderful ease and warmth to it, and I would have cheerfully read a version twice as long.

His cousin Daniel's book has some odd pacing--the last several chapters all feel like bonus codas to the main arc--but I enjoyed it all so much I don't care. This one's a cozy plot of friends who everyone knows are couple except themselves, starring a music critic and a doctor in New York's East Village in the 1970s. This is a great pick for anyone who feels like romances tend to move too fast, since their relationship is well established when they decide to change it. Their attraction to each other has a lot of emphasis on each other's quirks and their opposing personal styles, which is deeply cute.

The third Cat Sebastian I read was We Could Be So Good, which is her new release. It's a touching story about New York newspapermen in the 1950s, with an astonishing amount of pining. Like, Pacific Northwest pine content. I remarked in my liveblog that I felt like I was watching pandas in a zoo: "Please fuck the whole world would love for you to fuck, top scientists are trying to set the mood for you." This was fun! I prefer her faster-moving and more explicit books, which is most of them, but it's nice to read about a personable couple helping each other over hurdles so they can kiss.

The English Eccentrics by Edith Sitwell is a book I read very slowly and finished this month. It's a very odd work of nonfiction from the 1930s, and I wish I could remember how I first got interested in it. It's an overview of a large number of historical people whose "eccentricity" ranged, for me, from delightful to pitiable to repellent. Sitwell's style is a bit dense and full of opinion in a way that made me question her research when she touched on figures I had some familiarity with, like the con artist Princess Caraboo. More intriguing than informative.

The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street by Helene Hanff is a more satisfying nonfiction pick, a memoir follow up to the hugely charming 84, Charing Cross Road. This book recounts American writer Hanff's visit to some of the long-distance friends she corresponded with in the first book. I find the first much more moving, as a person with many similar friendships, and I missed the additional voices of her friends, but it's a slim book and Hanff's humor and observations kept me entertained throughout.

And my favorite nonfiction in July was Girls Can Kiss Now, a book of essays on pop culture and queer identity by Jill Gutowitz. Gutowitz is older than I am, but we're close enough in age for events to feel very relevant to me as an individual, and she writes with a lot of approachability and lightness without sacrificing insight. If you're interested in how rapidly media handling of queerness changed in the last 20 years, this is great.

Threshold and Stormhaven by Jordan L. Hawk. I read Widdershins, the first in this series about Victorian boyfriends solving mysteries about eldritch horrors, in 2015. I never quite wanted to invest in buying the whole series, so I was delighted to find one of my libraries has an omnibus of the series in their e-collection. Hawk is very good at writing horror and sex, solid at writing mysteries, and maybe just okay at interpersonal arcs. These first books have some problems common to inexperienced writers and some pet peeves of mine (notably very irritating romantic jealousy), but they're loads of fun and a good amount of disturbing. Is it silly to nervously roll over in bed to cope with an alien shrimp's dialogue? Yes, but that's a selling point.

A Curious Beginning by Deanna Raybourn is the first Veronica Speedwell novel, and it took me a few months to read because I kept finding it a bit thin and putting it aside. I liked the resolution very much because it made the stakes I'd been missing real, and since Veronica and her love interest(?) have great chemistry, I look forward to reading the next. Pleasingly similar in tone and setting to Gail Carriger, though not Steampunk.

Frederica by Georgette Heyer. One of Heyer's best, I think. Heyer wrote a fairly narrow set of types for her main characters, and both of the romantic leads here are ones I like, who are natural and immediate collaborators and challengers for each other, plus great siblings and a chase after an out-of-control hot air balloon.

Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie, who only wrote books I've thought were great so far. This is a 1969 Hercule Poirot and Ariadne Oliver about the suburban murder of a 13 year old, preoccupied with generation gaps and 60s panics about the still fairly new concept of teenagers, ranging from marijuana and early computer technology to sex abuse and suicide. Great insights on the things people blame violent crime on because they don't want to consider malice, and lovely imagery about a famous garden designer's work. It's been adapted by Branagh as Death in Venice, and I'm very puzzled how they got from A to B. Don't pick this up expecting the vibe of that trailer. Do pick it up.

Thinking about young teens and murder brought me back to the Wells and Wong mysteries, an excellent recent middle grade series I started in the fall to surprise a friend with a treat for the Yuletide fic exchange. The second book is Poison is Not Polite in the US, originally Arsenic for Tea--you might want to look for author Robin Stevens instead of futzing around with varying titles to see whether you can borrow this series yourself. Anyway, both books so far are really strong, with cases that have enough subtlety and meat for me as an adult reader, and excellent writing on mystery tropes, race and class, and the particular frustrations of being about 13 years old. I'm deeply invested in Hazel and Daisy, and I loved this take on a classic house party case.

[zot3-flopped]

I watched AOTV on a leaked link and damn it was one boring documentary. Literally. The only part that made me emotional was the part about his mom.

He talked about 1d tooooo much. The first 10 to 15 minutes of the movie was about 1d and his time there and a whole pity story of how he didn't get those parts to sing etc. And then he bragged about having the most writing credits in the band. And when I thought he stopped talking about 1d and move on with the rest of the story, he starts to talk about 1d all over again to show how he had a tough time. If I put a $ each time I heard him mention the band or the members I would have gone bankrupt.

From 1d he moved to Jay and Fizzy's death which was fine bcz it was a tragedy that happened in his life. It was the only part in the documentary that felt like it needed to told to let everyone know how he felt. He was a bit condescending though during that part thinking he deserve a career in music bcz that was his mom's wish and she didn't want her death to stop him from going forward in his music career. The Tomlinson sisters makes an appearance multiple times during that part. And so does Olli and the homophobe Nizam.

From there he shifted to Freddie and talked about him fondly and lovingly with a lot of content about him. Freddie appeared in 2 stages in the documentary. 1. Louis becoming a father story with the beach scenes and etc. And 2. Freddie being at his solo shows part.

And then it was the same boring story we've heard him speak for the last 7 years. He had the same footage from the Away from home documentary released in 2021 in there as well. Then a few footage from his latam shows bcz why not? Those are the biggest venues he played and probably ever be able to sell out. So he was showing off the crowds in those footage to make others think he was doing a full arena tour saying he never thought he could sell these big venues. Liam and Niall made another appearance there when he talked about that Coca cola festival he did where Liam also played and the Mexico festival he did where Niall also played.

HE WAS SMOKING IN EVERY SCENE I kid you not!! Smoking in the recording booth, chainsmoking in his hotel rooms, venues, inside cars, private jets, even there was a clip of Liam vaping while he smokes during the coca cola festival. It was just endless amount of glorifying his smoking kink. It was disgusting. He was talking about his mom and sister's death and saying how much it affected him but had no problem glorifying drinking and smoking throughout the film. Even the instances where he wasn't physically holding a cigarette, you can still see smoke leaving his mouth meaning he was smoking then too. All the other times he had a glass or a cup full of whatever he loves drinking.

Then on he talked about Walls and FITF process. But emphasized more on FITF for obvious reasons. And how he found success and thinking he deserves it. That's when he showed those latam crowds as if to prove a point. There was only 1 clip of him in the recording studio and even there he was singing out of tune. There was a couple of clips of him doing vocal training with Helene like the one we saw in the AFHF documentary. He was complaining how he thinks he nailed the vocals during the training sessions with Helene but once he does the performance and watch the performance video he can hear him singing out of tune. Then he brushed it off by saying it was probably his head messing with him and Helene then boosted his ego by saying he did a good job and he should be proud of himself. She encouraged him by saying he sang Walls the song so well live acoustically somewhere which according to her is a tough song to sing.🤣

And then.... that's it!!! The movie started with him holding the UK #1 trophy and the movie ended with him holding it in the video we saw him share with the Official Charts as if to show he made it. But in reality it was his only achievement he could show off.

There was no substance or depth to the documentary and I wasn't impressed by Charlie's directing there. It looked so cheaply made. Even the filters used were meh. It seems like he had nothing interesting show or say about his life throughout the documentary so it dragged on boringly for 2 hours with the audience ending up knowing nothing new about him.

Thank you for this thoughtful, detailed review. 💜

Shame Louis couldn't restrain himself from smoking in every scene - it's such an abominable example to set to his young fans. I bet he spends a fortune on private jets just so he can suck on those cancer sticks. He's disgusting.

He really does need to find some new talking points, doesn't he? He's not the only person to lose his mother in his mid 20s, and he still has five siblings who all seem to adore him. He has enormous wealth privilege and this victim narrative he's spinning out isn't convincing.

[rhianna]

The Tower

I

What shall I do with this absurdity— O heart, O troubled heart—this caricature, Decrepit age that has been tied to me As to a dog’s tail? Never had I more Excited, passionate, fantastical Imagination, nor an ear and eye That more expected the impossible— No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly, Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulben’s back And had the livelong summer day to spend. It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack, Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend Until imagination, ear and eye, Can be content with argument and deal In abstract things; or be derided by A sort of battered kettle at the heel.

II

I pace upon the battlements and stare On the foundations of a house, or where Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from the earth; And send imagination forth Under the day’s declining beam, and call Images and memories From ruin or from ancient trees, For I would ask a question of them all.

Beyond that ridge lived Mrs. French, and once When every silver candlestick or sconce Lit up the dark mahogany and the wine, A serving man that could divine That most respected lady’s every wish, Ran and with the garden shears Clipped an insolent farmer’s ears And brought them in a little covered dish.

Some few remembered still when I was young A peasant girl commended by a song, Who’d lived somewhere upon that rocky place, And praised the colour of her face, And had the greater joy in praising her, Remembering that, if walked she there, Farmers jostled at the fair So great a glory did the song confer.

And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes, Or else by toasting her a score of times, Rose from the table and declared it right To test their fancy by their sight; But they mistook the brightness of the moon For the prosaic light of day— Music had driven their wits astray— And one was drowned in the great bog of Cloone.

Strange, but the man who made the song was blind, Yet, now I have considered it, I find That nothing strange; the tragedy began With Homer that was a blind man, And Helen has all living hearts betrayed. O may the moon and sunlight seem One inextricable beam, For if I triumph I must make men mad.

And I myself created Hanrahan And drove him drunk or sober through the dawn From somewhere in the neighbouring cottages. Caught by an old man’s juggleries He stumbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro And had but broken knees for hire And horrible splendour of desire; I thought it all out twenty years ago:

Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn; And when that ancient ruffian’s turn was on He so bewitched the cards under his thumb That all, but the one card, became A pack of hounds and not a pack of cards, And that he changed into a hare. Hanrahan rose in frenzy there And followed up those baying creatures towards—

O towards I have forgotten what—enough! I must recall a man that neither love Nor music nor an enemy’s clipped ear Could, he was so harried, cheer; A figure that has grown so fabulous There’s not a neighbour left to say When he finished his dog’s day: An ancient bankrupt master of this house.

Before that ruin came, for centuries, Rough men-at-arms, cross-gartered to the knees Or shod in iron, climbed the narrow stairs, And certain men-at-arms there were Whose images, in the Great Memory stored, Come with loud cry and panting breast To break upon a sleeper’s rest While their great wooden dice beat on the board.

As I would question all, come all who can; Come old, necessitous, half-mounted man; And bring beauty’s blind rambling celebrant; The red man the juggler sent Through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French, Gifted with so fine an ear; The man drowned in a bog’s mire, When mocking muses chose the country wench.

Did all old men and women, rich and poor, Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door, Whether in public or in secret rage As I do now against old age? But I have found an answer in those eyes That are impatient to be gone; Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan For I need all his mighty memories.

Old lecher with a love on every wind Bring up out of that deep considering mind All that you have discovered in the grave, For it is certain that you have Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing Plunge, lured by a softening eye, Or by a touch or a sigh, Into the labyrinth of another’s being;

Does the imagination dwell the most Upon a woman won or woman lost? If on the lost, admit you turned aside From a great labyrinth out of pride, Cowardice, some silly over-subtle thought Or anything called conscience once; And that if memory recur, the sun’s Under eclipse and the day blotted out.

III

It is time that I wrote my will; I choose upstanding men, That climb the streams until The fountain leap, and at dawn Drop their cast at the side Of dripping stone; I declare They shall inherit my pride, The pride of people that were Bound neither to Cause nor to State, Neither to slaves that were spat on, Nor to the tyrants that spat, The people of Burke and of Grattan That gave, though free to refuse— Pride, like that of the morn, When the headlong light is loose, Or that of the fabulous horn, Or that of the sudden shower When all streams are dry, Or that of the hour When the swan must fix his eye Upon a fading gleam, Float out upon a long Last reach of glittering stream And there sing his last song. And I declare my faith; I mock Plotinus’ thought And cry in Plato’s teeth, Death and life were not Till man made up the whole, Made lock, stock and barrel Out of his bitter soul, Aye, sun and moon and star, all, And further add to that That, being dead, we rise, Dream and so create Translunar Paradise. I have prepared my peace With learned Italian things And the proud stones of Greece, Poet’s imaginings And memories of love, Memories of the words of women, All those things whereof Man makes a superhuman, Mirror-resembling dream.

As at the loophole there, The daws chatter and scream, And drop twigs layer upon layer. When they have mounted up, The mother bird will rest On their hollow top, And so warm her wild nest.

I leave both faith and pride To young upstanding men Climbing the mountain side, That under bursting dawn They may drop a fly; Being of that metal made Till it was broken by This sedentary trade.

Now shall I make my soul Compelling it to study In a learned school Till the wreck of body Slow decay of blood, Testy delirium Or dull decrepitude, Or what worse evil come— The death of friends, or death Of every brilliant eye That made a catch in the breath— Seem but the clouds of the sky When the horizon fades; Or a bird’s sleepy cry Among the deepening shades.

1926

[sevlgi]

hit and run

requested: no

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: a  shit ton of angst, some fluff

contents: idol!rosé, actress!y/n, closeted!rosé, costar!au, slight enemies-to-lovers, unhappy endings because i’m a bitch, a lot of attempted cinematic parallels, italicized dialogue is when they’re speaking as their characters

warnings: slight homophobia

synopsis: There’s absolutely no reason for you to get involved with a costar who you should hate by all accounts. But of course, you manage to forget that love is usually more like a hit-and-run than a cruise ship. 

a/n: while i was writing this, i  imagined this as what happened before rosie sang “gone”, so maybe you can think of it like that too? i’m honestly so terrified of this flopping lmao... 

for a little background on the film: Y/N plays Luna, a pirate captain who unknowingly sacrificed her family in order to have the power to fight the regime that Rosé’s character Helen is a part of. Helen approaches Luna, determined to help her bring justice, but Helen is unable to choose between the benefits of staying with the regime, and following what she knows is right and destroying her life as a result.

word count: 6.8k

The last thing you want to hear on the morning of your first script reading is that the actress playing your love interest in the film has changed.

“What?” you say loudly, straightening in the backseat. Your manager frowns, and you sit obediently, but the scowl doesn’t leave your face. “What do you mean the actress changed?”

“Yeah. She had to leave the movie at the last minute,” he sighs.

Sooyoung was chosen alongside you, after lengthy interviews testing whether the two of you would be able to handle your characters’ dynamic. It took weeks for the director to decide that you were the pair that she wanted, so the news that you’ll be meeting your costar for the first time in front of paparazzi is quite the shock to your system. “Shit. Then who’s the replacement?”

Your manager presses his lips together firmly before answering, “Park Chaeyoung. She’s an idol.”

You groan and slump down again. “Great. Another idol actress? Please don’t tell me that this is her first role too. Oh god, is she straight?”

“Yes to all of the above,” Chan says tensely.

Maybe you’re being dramatic, but it’s honestly a big deal. It’s the first leading role you’ve bagged, especially in a mainstream LGBTQ+ movie, and Sooyoung was the best costar you could’ve picked. You’ve never met Park Chaeyoung before, and you already know that all your plans are going to be messed up.

Chan pulls the car into the parking lot, and you scowl when you realize that most of the paparazzi have arrived. “We’re going around the back. Y/N, promise me one thing: don’t make a scene, okay?” your manager pleads. “I’m not happy about it either, but Chaeyoung has a good reputation. You’ll just ruin yours if you blow up at her.”

“I promise,” you answer through gritted teeth. You slip through the open side door as soon as you get out of the car, ignoring Chan’s call after you to have a good time like you would’ve.

To make matters worse, you don’t even get a chance to talk to the director or Chaeyoung before you’re swarmed by a crowd of reporters, even if that ‘talk’ would’ve consisted of more yelling than anything. “Y/N, Y/N!”

“Okay, let her up!” Seulgi shouts, pushing her way through. She grips your arm to lead you towards the cast table, whispering under her breath, “I’ll explain later. But just run with it, okay?”

You have plenty of problems with idol actresses, but you’ve never been inclined to say all those problems to their faces. Until now, that is.  Now, you’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with a girl you know has absolutely no credentials to be playing the other role in your upcoming movie, resisting the urge to ball your script up and throw it in her face.

There’s nothing wrong with Park Chaeyoung as a person-- she’s admittedly gorgeous, probably sweet, and you’re sure she isn’t a bad actress in any sense. The only thing wrong with the situation is that she’s painfully straight and auditioning to be your love interest in what might be Korea’s first mainstream lesbian film, and that you have never spoken to her before.

Chaeyoung avoids your stare with a clenched jaw, and in normal circumstances, you would already be apologizing profusely for making her uncomfortable. In this circumstance, though, your obvious grudge against her only contributes to the dynamic her character is supposed to have with yours.

“Miss Kang, is it true that the actors were only picked today?” 

The director grimaces, and the both of you turn to look at the cameras flashing by the sides of the room. It was never the plan to allow paparazzi to sit in on the first reading that you and Chaeyoung would be doing together, especially since it’s true that Chaeyoung was only chosen hours ago, after the original actress bailed. Even though your grudge should be against the girl who left, it’s easier to glare at the one sitting next to you. “Not exactly. Y/N has been confirmed for the role of Luna for months, but we recently added Chaeyoung as Helen. But we can assure that their chemistry will be wonderful,” Seulgi reassures the audience. What a lie.

Yet another reporter calls out, “How much of the script will we be seeing today, and when will the trailer be released?”

“Since the casting was changed today, the trailer has been delayed,” Seulgi says. You can hear the panic in her voice, and clear your throat. “As for the script… we’re only doing part of one scene that will show up in the trailer today, so we’ll just let them begin. Y/N?”

As you take a sip of water to prepare yourself, you almost hope that Chaeyoung messes up her part. It would be bad press, sure, and it would only contribute to Seulgi’s stress, but it would be satisfying for her to realize that she doesn’t deserve her part. She’s just an idol, after all, and she’s taking away representation from the people who need it.

“Are you saying you’re better than me?” you begin, your voice ice-cold.

You watch Chaeyoung’s throat bob, but her voice is steady and clear when she says her line. “No! I’m not saying that I’m better than you… but by all accounts, there’s no way you should have this power.”

“Would you be less scared then?” You pause, watch as Chaeyoung’s expression changes to the panic that her character’s would. “I’m kidding, Helen. I did things to get these powers, things that I’m not proud of.”

“Why would you do that? You’re strong… you don’t need them.”

“I’ve never been-- shit.” The tips of your ears start to burn, and suddenly, your lines are swimming before your eyes. Maybe all your hoping and wishing that Chaeyoung messes up has reflected onto you instead.

She attempts to remind you, “I haven’t always--”

“I know,” you hiss, but your voice is too loud in the silent room. Chaeyoung turns bright pink, too, but you still can’t seem to say your lines out loud. Shit, shit, shit--

“I’m just trying to help,” she sighs.

You whip your head to glare at her, and she winces at the daggers you send in her direction. “Shut the hell up--”

“Okay, the script reading will end here,” Seulgi announces loudly, and you bite down hard on your tongue. You don’t dare to look at the other cast members, don’t dare to think about how they must be guilting you for cutting their PR short. “Thank you everyone, please leave with security.”

You stay in your seat, staring at your script with burning eyes until you feel a hand on your shoulder and jolt. “Hey,” Chaeyoung reminds you, “we can leave.”

“Don’t touch me” is your only answer, and you storm out of the room. Alone.

The next time you see Chaeyoung is the next day, at a script-reading that the paparazzi knows nothing about. (You do see a friend request from a Park Chaeyoung the night before, but you ignore it.)

Seulgi attempts a smile, but it doesn’t hide the bags under her eyes. She claps and raises her voice to get the cast’s attention. “Okay, everyone. We didn’t get what we wanted yesterday, but that’s fine. Um… let’s try yesterday’s scene from Chaeyoung’s part, okay? From ‘you don’t need them’.”

Chaeyoung nods. “You’re strong… you don’t need them,” she starts, worry tinging into her voice.

“I haven’t always been strong,” you reply, your voice harsher than it should be just to stop yourself from messing up again.

“Still. Powers aren’t everything, Luna, it’s too hard to have them.”

You sigh. “Newsflash, princess. It’s harder not to.”

“But--” Chaeyoung interjects.

“Did you ever think,” you cut her off, “that I didn’t care that it’d be hard? Did you ever think that the rest of us are tired of you abusing the thing that you’re given, but we have to fight for?”

You look right to Seulgi once you finish, ignoring the part underneath that says you should look to Chaeyoung at the end of the scene. The director smiles anyway. “That was great, you two. I think you capture the tension perfectly, which is a relief.”

You fight the urge to laugh. “I know that changing our main cast so close to the actual production is really difficult,” Seulgi sighs. “And I’m really sorry to inconvenience you all. The schedule is really squished now, and we just have to work through it. Chaeyoung, Y/N, all I ask is that you try to work together, okay? I know you’ll be amazing together.”

Chaeyoung speaks, possibly for the first time besides her lines. “Of course, Ms. Bae. I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure. We have to cut this short, again, but we’re scheduled for costume fitting right now,” Seulgi groans. “We have to at least get the outfits for the trailer to fit. Sorry, everyone. Down the hall, okay?”

Of course, you and Chaeyoung have to get fit together. The only sound in the hallway is that of her heels clicking on the wood, and you resist the urge to shout at her to stop. Luckily, you arrive in the fitting room before you can.

Your eyes widen at the dress hanging there. It’s incredible, even without the layers that would support the skirt-- you can’t even imagine how the beading and pink silk would look on Chaeyoung. Ethereal, probably. “Y/N, yours is here,” the costume director laughs, beckoning you over.

Even though your own outfit isn’t nearly as opulent, you can’t help but admire the gold detailing on the cuffs and the tailoring. “Thank god yours doesn’t take so much sewing,” the director grunts, pinning the side. “You know, the two of you are going to look fantastic in these, even if we have to spill all that blood on them to shoot the trailer.”

“Sooyoung would’ve looked better.” It’s mean, and it’s a low blow, but the director doesn’t take your bait.

She pokes her head out to where Chaeyoung’s being fitted. “Now? Okay, Y/N, go out there. We need to take a look at the two of you together.”

You can’t stop your jaw from dropping when you see Chaeyoung. She’s all candyfloss hair and gold adorning her tiny waist, and in all her glory, you can’t stop yourself from thinking that maybe she was made for the role. “You look really good,” she compliments softly.

Nodding stiffly, you turn for the seamstresses. Chaeyoung moves to fiddle with her gloves when she realizes that you have absolutely no interest in continuing the conversation.

Well, if there’s one thing you can nitpick about her, it isn’t how she looks; she looks absolutely perfect for the role of Princess Helen, maybe even more perfect than Sooyoung. 

One of the costume directors steps in. “Okay, you can get changed out, but you have to come back in a few hours,” she tells you. “We have to make a lot of changes, then fit you again.”

You step down from the podium, going towards your dressing room without a second thought until Chaeyoung calls for you. “Y/N? Do you want to have lunch later? In your trailer or something?”

“Sure,” you answer, barely glancing back. When you do, all you see is her with shiny puppy eyes, and in her giant gown, it’s eerily similar to the role she’s supposed to be playing.

“It’s nice. You’ve decorated it?”

You nod absentmindedly, clearing the narrow couch off for yourself to sit on, since Chaeyoung has taken the only chair that could fit in the trailer. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve had it for a few months, so.”

She winces. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you frown. Chaeyoung apologizes too much, but at least she’s upfront about whatever she has to say.

Your costar sighs, “For usurping the role? You must’ve gotten attached to Sooyoung, and it’s got to be horrible for me to just… arrive like this.”

“You know… that’s part of it.” You can’t lie; a big part of the resentment you hold against Chaeyoung is the fact that she took a role meant for someone else, someone you were friends with. “The other thing… I don’t like idol actresses,” you tell her.

Chaeyoung’s brows furrow, and she leans forward. “Why? I mean, why don’t you?”

You pause to think about it. “Well… I mean, think about it like this. Sooyoung and my auditions went for weeks before we were chosen, as a pair. Didn’t you get this role because you were an idol? You had to audition, sure, but I bet you just flashed a few smiles and read the script and got chosen. How is that fair?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but you hold your hand up and continue, “And the other thing. You’re straight.”

Chaeyoung chokes on air at that, spluttering, “What? You hate me because I’m straight?”

“No,” you say incredulously, “Well, I don’t hate you. But you being straight, and landing the lead role in a film like this… you’re taking away representation. And that’s kind of shitty of you.”

The air inside the trailer becomes suffocating, and Chaeyoung’s fiddling with the jacket in her lap finally stops when she throws it aside and stands up. She sounds like she’s about to cry when she says quietly, “Have you ever considered that I’m not straight? It’s not… it’s not that easy to be out about it--”

“Oh, cry me a river,” you groan. “Look, I apologize for assuming, but if you want to act in lesbian roles, you can’t pretend to be straight. It’s all for your fans, isn’t it? Another part of being an idol--”

She stands up, then storms right out of the trailer without another word, the door banging closed. The only thing you can do in response is sigh and utter a quiet, “Shit”.

Perhaps it’s just your luck that the first proper scene you have to film with Chaeyoung is your culminating kiss scene.

It shouldn’t be in the trailer at all-- according to the scene schedule, the two of you would’ve filmed your scenes together in chronological order, and the kiss would’ve been at the end, hopefully after a reconciliation between the two of you. However, for some inexplicable reason, it’s going to be the first one you do, without a single second of rehearsal.

You’re a one-take wonder, and you always have been, but you can’t help but think about how impossible it’s going to be to pull off such an intense scene with someone you just fought with. Sighing, you lean over to fiddle with your hair; it’s slightly tangled now, and there’s a fake scrape on the side of your cheek. 

At a side, Chaeyoung is similarly beat up, fake blood smeared on the left side of her face. Her long hair has been put in an updo and then taken down, and parts of her dress are ripped; to you, she looks more like Helen than herself now.

“Okay, everyone, are we ready? Positions, please!”

You arrange yourself on the ground where you should be, holding a handkerchief to your cheek like instructed as Chaeyoung stands by the camera to run to you. Exhaling sharply, your eyes meet hers for the first time in days. “Action!”

Chaeyoung sprints to you as soon as she’s cued, falling in front of you in a heap. “Luna,” she gasps, reaching a gloved hand out to the ‘injured’ half of your face.

“I’m fine,” you smile weakly. The camera hovers by Chaeyoung’s shoulder, and you soften your gaze as much as possible as your hand comes up to hers.

The other girl only moves closer, her eyes scanning yours and her dress surrounding the both of you like a sea of gauze. Her nose is almost brushing up against yours, and you mutter softly, “Be careful. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want.”

“Well, what do you want?” Chaeyoung implores, almost inaudible. Her breath quivers, and you feel it when you reach forward to cup her jaw. “Luna, what do you want right now?”

“I’m not making a move until you tell me to,” you shake your head. 

The blonde’s hands slip off your face, and she braces herself on your thighs instead. She laughs breathily, “Coward.”

“Your coward, huh?”

Chaeyoung pauses, scraping her teeth across her bottom lip. It’s so quiet that you think you could hear a pin drop, and the torches held up by the crew flicker across her face so naturally. “If you want to be.”

There’s probably another line that comes after, but with Chaeyoung so close to you, it swims blurrily in your mind. So instead, you just lean up, pull her down, and connect your lips.

She plays along, thankfully, stumbling slightly in her character’s eagerness to get a little closer. The only thing you can hear is Chaeyoung’s slight gasp when you let your hands wander down to her waist, and it’s almost scary how absorbed you are in the scene.

“Okay, cut!” Seulgi’s shout breaks you from your trance, and you hold your hands up as if in surrounder. Chaeyoung’s cheeks are red yet again when she sits up, staring anywhere other than you.

Your director hops off her chair to run towards you, a huge grin on her face. “That was perfect,” she shouts. “Y/N, I think you forgot a line? But it worked out amazingly. The one-take wonder, right?”

You grin when she pats you on the shoulder, a little harder than necessary. Apparently, all your worries were for nothing, as you and Chaeyoung stand to monitor your own shot in the screen next to Joohyun.

You can’t even hear all the praise she showers on the two of you, and you pay no attention to all the details she points out that apparently showcase your perfect chemistry with your costar. All you feel is a slight squeeze on your hand, hidden in the mess of fabric by your side.

You jolt awake at the sound of your phone ringing loudly by your side, finding an unknown number as the caller ID. Accepting hesitantly, you greet, “Hello?”

“Y/N? Did Chan give me the right number?”

Oh. It’s Chaeyoung. “Yeah.” You clear your throat in an attempt to sound a little less drowsy, then repeat, “Right number. Why’d you ask Chan?”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to find you when you never accepted my request,” she laughs quietly. “Um, I have to record the OST today, and I was wondering whether you’d want to come watch? Chan said you didn’t really have any scenes later today.”

“Um. Okay. I’ll ask Chan to bring me,” you answer, then hang up. Your head swims slightly, partially due to the fact that you woke up to the piercing sound of your ringtone and partially because you just don’t understand why Chaeyoung’s reaching out again. You should be the one apologizing, after the tangent you went off on, and you highly doubt that your kiss scene doubled as an apology. Of course, you’ll take it.

Your manager is more than pleased to pick you up this time, but thankfully, he doesn’t question you. If he did, he’d probably be the one you shouted at.

The studio is honestly too small for two people, probably hastily set up, but you recognize the recording equipment from a video of Chaeyoung recording one of her group’s songs. And you recognize the girl already standing in the recording booth, waving you over. “Hi,” she smiles, and for all you try, you don’t see a hint of malice.

“Hey,” you mumble, taking a seat. “Uh… I’m sorry.”

“Wow, straightforward,” she tries to joke. “What for?”

You scratch the back of your neck, sighing, “For assuming, for blowing up on you, for… I don’t know, kind of everything. I’m an asshole, even if what I said wasn’t wrong.”

Chaeyoung chuckles, fiddling with the mic. “I mean, I appreciate the apology, but I wasn’t great either. You definitely had some truth behind what you said, even if it was kind of too to the point.”

“I know. You were just trying to apologize and help us become civil, and I kind of ruined it,” you hum. The other girl adjusts the lyric stand as you continue, “But I’m hoping you understand why I had to say what I did?”

“I do,” she agrees. “You’re definitely right that it’s not good representation at all, I just wish you had heard me out.”

You nod uncomfortably, changing the way you sit on the couch just to distract yourself. “So… you’re gay? I’m just asking because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about it, and I’ve seen plenty of your interviews.”

“So you watch my interviews?” Chaeyoung teases. When you scowl, she just smiles, “I can’t say specifically, but I am confused. You said last time that it’s just another part of being an idol, and you’re… you’re right. It’s taboo for idols to be gay, even though Korea’s opening up to it a bit more now. So even though I want to, I don’t think I can ever be out about it.”

“I understand. And I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

She swallows, throat bobbing. “Thank you. Hey, Y/N… would you mind singing with me?”

“What?” You stare up at her incredulously; it’s not like your singing would make the other girl faint on the spot, but you definitely don’t possess an angelic voice like hers, either.

But maybe it’s an olive branch. “Just… can you match this note?” She hums, and you attempt to create the same pitch. “Okay. Can you do the chorus part in that key, while I do it in the main one? We’ll sound better like that,” Chaeyoung offers.

Against your better judgement, you stand, and shuffle into the recording booth next to her. “If this sounds bad, you’re taking the blame,”  you warn, and she giggles while twisting the stand so you can see.

You do sound good together, maybe to a level that you would’ve never anticipated.

You know that something’s off when Chan doesn’t wake you up bright and early on your birthday, even if Seulgi already promised that you wouldn’t have to go to work on the day of. After spending many a birthday with him, you’ve already gotten used to him tugging you up just to take you outside and celebrate somehow.

You know something’s especially off when you hear a female voice cursing from your kitchen, and smell something burning.

“Who the shit-- Chaeyoung?”

The girl turns in surprise, caught red-handed with a piece of burnt toast pinched between her fingers. “Um. Hi?” she offers weakly.

Suddenly self-conscious, you cross your arms over the faded sweatshirt you wear. In your own apartment, Chaeyoung is leagues more put-together in the summery dress she wears, her dyed hair tossed in a braid and glitter shining at the corners of her eyes. “Hello?”

“Chan said you wouldn’t be awake for a few hours,” she sighs, shaking her head as she tosses the toast in the trash. “And I wasn’t supposed to burn the toast.”

“What were you supposed to do?” you question, stepping closer. There’s a cake box on the counter, as well as a couple suspicious tubes of icing right by it, and you think you know what’s going on.

Chaeyoung huffs out an exasperated breath. “I was supposed to surprise you. Chan has something going on at home, so he sent me to supervise your birthday instead. Obviously, I messed that up.”

“It’s fine,” you shrug, taking a seat at the counter and reaching for the icing. “I’ve always wanted to decorate a cake anyway.”

She looks surprised at that, but a smile breaks out across her face. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirm. It’s partially a lie, but you’re decently sure that Chaeyoung will refuse to let you do most of the work anyways. “Uh. I’ll just change first, and then we can get that going?”

“Yeah,” she grins, and you take it as your cue to scurry off to the bedroom.

By the time you come back, there’s a plate of not-burnt toast on your counter, and Chaeyoung’s pouring out two glasses of the juice that you can never bring yourself to buy because of the price tag. “I hope you like it, this is one of my favorites.”

“Like it? I love this,” you gasp, surging forward to pick up one of the glasses. “It’s expensive as hell, though.”

“Well, I couldn’t get you a gift, so I thought a nice morning would suffice,” Chaeyoung laughs. She unties the bow on the cake box to reveal a completely bare vanilla cake, a few packets of sprinkles that you hadn’t noticed now lying next to it. “Do you want to start?”

“Oh, sure.” You choose the blue icing after a bit of debating, and pick up the spatula that your costar offers you. “You didn’t have to, though, I would’ve been okay on my own today.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, “I mean, I didn’t have anything else to do, and I wouldn’t like to be alone on my birthday.”

“How do you usually celebrate?” you question, glancing up at her.

She pauses to think, then answers, “Well, I do live with my members, so we’ll get something to eat. Sometimes, we’re on vacation, so we just do what we can, but I like staying in the dorm to receive the things that their families send me.”

“It sounds sweet.”

“It is,” she grins. “I honestly don’t know what I would do on my own, it seems lonely-- Oh. I’m sorry.”

“What for? It is kind of lonely,” you admit, squeezing a glob of icing out. It’s definitely not as graceful as you would’ve appreciated, and you catch Chaeyoung stifling a laugh. “Chan lived with me at the beginning, but he eventually moved out when I got a girlfriend. Obviously, that didn’t laugh.”

“Sorry,” the other girl repeats again, and you wave a hand out. “When was that?”

“She moved out two years ago,” you answer. “And I’ve been alone since. Or, lonely, not always alone.”

Chaeyoung nods just so that you know she heard you. She accepts the icing tube when you hand it to her, making a spiral that’s infuriatingly better than yours. “How about you? I know you said you aren’t out, but have you dated yet?” you question.

She shakes her head, admitting, “Not yet. I don’t really know how to, you know? You assumed I was straight when you first saw me, so I think everyone else does too.”

“Sorry,” you say, an echo of her.

Your costar doesn’t respond, only setting the spatula down once the basic blue icing is smooth. “I think we’re supposed to refrigerate this before decorating, right?”

You grimace. “Well, I don’t know. I stopped watching cake videos years ago, so I’ll just listen to you.”

Chaeyoung hums and ties the box back up. “Okay, then I’ll just do it. Um, do you mind ordering chicken or something while we wait?”

“Sure.” Reaching for your phone, you ask, “Would you be opposed to romcoms?”

“I’m never opposed to romcoms,” the other girl answers.

You have to remind yourself to order two servings of chicken, something that you haven’t done in a while. But it’s comforting, in a way, to not be alone again.

“Can you believe we’ve only got a week left of filming? I feel like I haven’t seen you at all.”

You wince guiltily, even though you know that Yerim doesn’t mean it. Acting with your friend was originally a huge incentive for you to accept the film’s role, but the two of you quickly discovered that you had almost no scenes together, and with your push-and-pull with Chaeyoung, you forgot all about it. “Sorry, Yerim.”

She makes an incredulous expression, swatting your arm. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I’m happy you’re pursuing love and all that, and besides, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to act together.”

Blinking, you set your cup down on the counter. “Pursuing love?”

Yerim raises her eyebrow and says, “Yeah. Aren’t you and Chaeyoung together yet? We’ve been filming for two months, I’ll be shocked if you still haven't kissed and made up.”

“Uh. Well, we’ve kissed, but I don’t think it counted,” you frown. 

Your friend sighs and rolls her eyes. She’s all too used to how dense you are, and apparently, she’s finally gotten tired of it. “You’re an idiot. You literally met the morning of your first script reading, and you knew each other for… what, a week before you had your kiss scene? There’s got to be something there.”

“No.”

Right on cue, a few of the other cast members arrive, Chaeyoung sandwiched between them. “Have you seen the articles?” Nayeon grins, waving her phone around in the air. She’s drunk, obviously, but you have to indulge her.

“Which articles?”

She shoves the screen in your face as an answer, and you cringe when you find a screencap of you and Chaeyoung. “You won’t believe the chemistry-- nope, I’m not reading that.” You hand the phone back to Nayeon, then press it in her hand when she doesn’t take it. Yerim sends you a knowing expression, one that you definitely don’t like.

“Aw, come on! It’s good press,” Nayeon whines. “And a great kiss scene.”

“Don’t be weird,” Chaeyoung warns. She doesn’t seem to be drunk at all, though she does look fantastic in the silver dress that she wears. Your eyes linger on her for an embarrassing amount of time.

Nayeon pouts. She’s bubbly-- you’ve learned that much through acting alongside her in a total of three productions so far. You note that your costar doesn’t seem to be so accustomed to her temperament yet. “You’re no fun, Chaeng. We all know you enjoyed it.”

She goes bright pink at that amidst Yerim’s joking coos. “The token straight, converted?” your friend gasps, and you elbow her to stop her from going too far.

Apparently, it already has. “I didn’t!” Chaeyoung defends herself.

“Prove it,” Nayeon demands, slipping when she attempts to lean on the counter next to you.

Chaeyoung goes silent at that, apparently unable to find a way to ‘prove it’. You finally sigh, “Okay, I think that’s enough teas--”

If it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve long since memorized your entire script book, you would almost think that Chaeyoung reaching forward to tug on the front of your shirt is a scene between your two characters. After all, it’s perfectly in character for your eyes to widen comically as the other girl kisses you right on the lips. 

It’s also in character for Nayeon to start whooping next to you when your hands wrap around Chaeyoung’s waist to pull her in closer. You part at the noise. “You certainly look like you liked it,” Nayeon grins. 

“Yeah, get a room,” Yerim follows, and you shove her.

“You know what? Maybe we will.” Ignoring your friends’ jeering, you grab Chaeyoung’s wrist and lead her down the hallway, though not to a bedroom like you joked you would. “Hey. You okay? I didn’t know if that teasing crossed a line,” you whisper worriedly.

She bites down on her lip, but instead of answering you, Chaeyoung tilts your face up and leans closer, only stopped by your hand on her wrist. “Chae…”

“I’m sorry, this… this isn’t what you want, is it?” She steps back, mouth already opening to apologize, but you stop her from leaving you alone in the hallway.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” With the flashing neon lights echoing in her eyes, you can’t tell what Chaeyoung’s feeling, and you can’t tell if she’s willing to answer you properly at all. “I’m not making a move until you tell me to.”

Still, you don’t hear her say a word, until your grip starts to loosen on her wrist. “Did you drive here yourself?” she finally asks, barely audible. You nod hesitantly, and Chaeyoung’s voice grows firmer when she says, “I’m telling you to make a move.”

“I thought you were questioning?”

She swallows hard and takes your hand. “Not anymore.”

You don’t taste any alcohol when you lick your lower lip, and so, you nod. It’s stupid, especially considering how quickly your time together is about to end.

But for once, you know what you want.

“Good luck out there, Chae,” you smile, arms wrapped around the girl’s waist. 

“Thanks,” she hums, adjusting her hair yet again in the mirror. “We’re almost done filming, I have to promote us well so that we have enough money to at least put the damn film out.”

“Mm.” Your thumb smooths over the sliver of skin exposed by her top, and you place your chin on her shoulder to look at the two of you together.

She glances down at you. “What? Are you thinking about something?”

“Sort of,” you shrug. “I just can’t believe we’re almost done, but we… we just started this. You know, this thing between us.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a thing. But it doesn’t have to stop with filming,” Chaeyoung says offhandedly.

Raising an eyebrow, you question, “Doesn’t it? It’s going to be suspicious for us to constantly be seen together after filming together, I’ve seen the way your fans behave. Especially while you’re not out.”

“I think I can negotiate that with my company,” the other girl shakes her head.

You joke, “What, you release another two albums if you get to come out about having a girlfriend?”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Chaeyoung responds immediately. Her ears pink endearingly, and you wait for her to clarify, “In secret for now, obviously. But… one day, I’ll be out about it. I promise.”

“Don’t make empty promises, okay?” You press a kiss to her bare shoulder and let her go when you hear a knock at the dressing room door. “Do good!”

“Alright, Chaeyoung, it’s about time that we ask you some questions about your upcoming film, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” your costar smiles, and you raise your head from your phone to watch the screen. She’s sitting cross-legged across from some of the most famous idol interviewers in Korea, absolutely poised and natural even in front of the crowd that cheers over the interview.

The woman behind the podium clears her throat. “A huge talking point in Korea right now is your chemistry with your costar, Y/N. How exactly do you pull that off, since you’ve never experienced a relation like that?”

Chaeyoung laughs nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Oh. Well, um, I don’t have much experience with relationships at all, so--”

“Really? A pretty girl like you must have had a boyfriend or two before.” You despise the way that the interviewer leans in conspiratorially, as if the prying questions weren’t completely scripted. “But you seem a little to pretty to have experienced that, am I right?”

The crowd laughs with her, but Chaeyoung glances behind the scenes, probably to where her own staff sits. “You know, you can tell me if you ever felt… uncomfortable during filming,” the interviewer continues on. “Y/N has been out for years, hasn’t she?”

“Oh, she has…” You’re practically fuming, but you also can’t seem to pry your eyes away from the screen. All of Chaeyoung’s practiced idol-charm has seemed to dissipate into thin air, and she’s practically blending into the wall as she sits there.

The Chaeyoung you know-- no, the Chaeyoung that you’ve come to know, wouldn’t stand to hear something like that. You’ve watched her argue with a scriptwriter, and you’ve watched him get fired because he said something incredibly offensive, even though it wasn’t about you. But here, she sits still and just listens to the interviewer discuss you behind your back, and she says nothing about all the disgustingly backhanded comments.

The thing is, you don’t care about Chaeyoung not being out. You were closeted for enough time yourself, and you know how hard it is, so you’d never wish it on her; but watching her completely let go of all her personal principles just for a stupid interview is just another reminder that you’re letting go of your own. Chaeyoung won’t ever speak up, you realize, because her career comes before anything else. And you can’t stand for that.

“I’m leaving,” you tell the guard standing outside of your door. Only increasing your anger, tears start to burn in your eyes, and you scrape your sleeve across your face as roughly as you can. Chan picks up on one dial, and you say furiously, “Pick me up. It’s over.” In more ways than one.

Chaeyoung shivers at the top of the hill, where she’s supposed to be filming her closing scene with you. She hasn’t seen you for the past week, and after how disastrous her interview was, she’s pretty sure she knows why.

“Where’s Y/N?” she finally asks her makeup artist, giving in to her own curiosity.

Felix shrugs, reaching to mess with the blood on her hairline. “I have no idea, honestly, I haven’t seen her yet. She’s never late, though, you don’t have to worry. You’ll get your scene done.”

“That’s…” Chaeyoung sighs. That’s why she should be worried. “Right.”

“Okay, can we start?” Seulgi shouts. It’s started to rain, but with the excited look on the director’s face, Chaeyoung figures that it suits the scene even better than the gray clouds that had been planned. “Great. Chaeyoung, Y/N!”

Your hair is plastered to your forehead with the rain, and water makes your blouse cling to your curves; with the grim expression on your face, Chaeyoung could easily just mistake you for your character. “Hi,” you mutter, taking a seat on the grass right next to your costar. You say nothing else.

When cued, Chaeyoung takes a deep breath before her line. “Luna. I love you.”

For a second, Chaeyoung thinks you won’t respond, but the rasp to your voice proves her wrong. “No. No, you don’t.”

“I think I’m the one who should be deciding that, don’t you?” The blonde raises her eyebrows, reaching forward hesitantly for your shoulder.

Of course, you dodge it. Blinking the rain out of your eyes, you’re resigned when you ask, “You have your birthday gala tonight, don’t you?”

“Yes, but--” Chaeyoung swallows, lets her hand make contact, then continues, “I’m spending as much time as I can with you, aren’t I with you right now?”

“But you’re going.” It feels like you’re staring right into Chaeyoung’s soul when you speak, as despondent as your voice is. She nods, and you stand, her hand slipping off of your shoulder and into her lap. “Then go. You’re still a princess at the end of the day, aren’t you?”

“At the end of the day, yes…”

“You can’t do that. You sneak out onto my ships, get my people to love you and protect you, and then turn right back to your family to stay safe while we die for you. You can’t say you support our cause and then go back on it when it’s inconvenient for you, it doesn’t work like that!” Chaeyoung flinches at how intense you sound; at this point, she barely knows if it’s still acting. She can only hear her own heart in her ears, can only see your chest heaving from how quickly you spoke, and it all feels too real.

“What, do you want me to get found out?” Chaeyoung demands, getting to her feet as well. The rain becomes harsher, angled so that it perfectly blurs her vision of you. “I’ve saved your ass just as many times too, don’t pretend like I’m not a valuable part of your ship!”

“You’re still pretending.” Realizing that it’s not the right line, Chaeyoung opens her mouth to stop you, but your voice chills her into silence when you speak again. “You’ll always pretend, as long as it benefits you, won’t you? You can’t do that, Helen, not if you ‘love me’. Putting a crown on your head doesn’t mean that you’re a princess. Until you realize that, and until you’re willing to embrace it, you don’t love me. and I don’t love you.”

None of it is the script. None of it is the scene that you rehearsed a thousand times together in your trailer, but somehow, it makes Chaeyoung’s heart quaver in her throat so much more than the original lines ever did.

And when you drop your gaze to the ground, turning to walk off into the rain alone, she knows that to you, your entire relationship is already done.

[anonymousgeekhere]

What’s your opinion on the iliad cast? Gods and mortals

Mortals/Demigods:

Hector: I think my thoughts on him are obvious lol. My true love (after Apollo) he’s just so good! Hehe not gonna go in detail it will be long

Paris: Originally wasnt a very big fan of him but after learning more about him (and his effeminate aspect), I have mixed feelings. Like I like him but some stuff he does is like

Aeneas: We didn’t see him for much, I was intrigued by his fate thing, then I read the Aeneid and now I’m sick of him

Sarpedon: I’m more interested in the impact than him cuz like. Zeus contemplating saving him which would go against Fate? Very interesting…

Achilles: So I like him as a character not a person. I think his story and arc is very intriguing but like. he killed and mutilated a child. In the kid’s dad’s temple. like. Much as I find his arc about shifting between divine and beast and ultimately realizing he’s human and cannot reject society interesting af I just cannot like him

Patroclus: Wish there was more about him! He seemed very interesting and strong, not the uwu kawaii boy I thought he was

Odysseus: Yoooo I fucking love this guy he’s so funny and clever let’s fucking gooo

Diomedes: On his own I dont care for him much, tho I feel bad about how Athena manipulated him he’s pretty great when he teams up with Odysseus, book 10 was wicked awesome

Aias: Stronk man goes brrrr

Menelaus: Really cool guy, wanna see more content about him cuz he seems so conflicted and betrayed aww

Agamemnon: Someone shoot him. Please

Helen: FUCKING QUEEN I already loved her and then I found out more about her and aaaaah she’s so good

Andromache: Aaaahhh I love her she deserved so much better

Cassandra: Would’ve loved to see more of her, her story is interesting

Penelope (I know she‘s from the odyssey but shhhh): YO SHES A QUEEN TOO she really outsmarted Odysseus she and him are OTP how she so big brain

Hecuba: She won me over when she begged Hector not to go fight Achilles

Priam: Interesting guy, wanna know more about him and why he seems to only care for Hector (trauma response after losing so many kids?)

Gods:

Apollo: I won’t dump here cuz you all know about that already. I really enjoyed seeing a darker, more divine aspect of Apollo. Really changed my perspective on him (which is an essay in of itself) and appreciate him a lot more and see him as more nuanced and complex

Artemis: We didn’t see much of her! But I can’t believe she got bitch slapped by Hera

Leto: So badass omfg

Hermes: Really pleasantly surprised by how kind he was to Priam. Loved seeing him as the “kind god”

Zeus: I’ve softened to him and really like to see how his position as a king makes him have to take harsh decisions. Fate makes me wonder how much control he really has

Hera: Badassssss. I really loved seeing her so manipulative and clever, it was really fun

Ares: I hate how Homer wrote him! Made him seem so pathetic and had everyone bully him

Athena: Ngl especially after writing my essay I don’t really like Athena? She’s manipulative but not in the fun Hera way

Aphrodite: My opinion on her dropped a little because of that one scene in book 3 where she forces Helen to sleep with Paris

Poseidon: He’s much more serious and scary than I thought, really awed by his sheer power

Hephaestus: Hate how everyone bullies him but damn does he make some cool stuff

Thetis: She’s such a good mom??? I wanna know more about her, like how she ended up married to Peleus

[faerienextdoor]

pastas and your insecurities

tw: i think depictions/descriptions of stretch marks may trigger some people! and mentions of scars, but no specification

Brian, cellulite and stretchmarks:

- he is a gentle himbo soul. He calls your stretch marks your lovemarks and lightning bolts.

- he loves the bumps and grooves on the back of your comfy thighs. thighs he's constantly found himself resting his head in when his head rumbled and ached from a migraine.

- you're a gift to him and the world.

- and he wants you to feel like you're perfect. because you are, to him.

- during cuddle time, he rests his head on your tummy, snuggled between your thighs.

- he'll lift your shirt and kiss the marks that travel up your tummy, and smile at you as his kisses tickle your soft skin

- "have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

- he asks that so innocently and with so much sincerity. it can melt the hardest of asses.

- he is your personal hype man! If you wear something you usually wouldn't, he'd stop to stare for a while at first

- then breaks out in a giant happy grin, and pulls you into him.

- grabs your hand, and spins you around.

- all that shit. so he can get a good look at you

- kisses the crown of your head gently

- "how did I ever get so lucky?"

jeff, and scars:

- his initial reaction is to laugh off your insecurities

- he's used to joking around what he hated about himself and knows he doesn't want anyone delving in, and finds it more comforting for them to laugh it off with him

- but the laughter dies down and the smiling bastard is frowning at you now

- he knows what it's like to hate your scars. He's picked and tried to scrape off his own burnt flesh, and made them worse in the bed.

- "what the fuck are you on about? c'mere"

- he aggressively loves you. He doesn't want you to feel like how he feels about himself.

- he'll kiss any patch of scarred skin he has permission to and can get to. even if it's an awkward place, his thin lips are pressing his love to them.

- "beautiful. gorgeous. handsome. I could never get enough of you"

- he mutters compliments to you and holds you, pressing his face into the curve of your neck. he breathes in your smell and let's it out in a soft sigh

- "never talk bullshit about yourself again, you got it?"

- he won't take any of your negativity from then on out

- in his eyes: he's the only one who can tease you

Tim, stretch marks and thighs:

- he's a big dude himself. and in the best, most pleasant way.

- he has muscle + fat. a good mix that has made him the best cuddle buddy

- you've told him yourself. So why do you put yourself down for what you love about him?

- he loves how cats can curl so happily on your sun soaked lap in middle of summer

- he loves your beautiful marks, and finds them to be so unique and beautiful on you

- the deep grooves he can't keep his hands away from when you're cuddled (skin to skin, or with very little clothes)

- he looks you in the eyes and gently tells you how you make him feel

- "you make me the happiest I've been in... a long time."

- Masky loves your form too. He loves how it looks in tims shirts or a tight fitting outfit.

- masky rests his heavy head in your lap in the most annoying way.

- I'm talking about forcing himself in your personal space, just for some sugar

- and he's content laying there for /hours/

- and you bet your ass you're not moving an INCH unless you threaten to piss on the couch/bed

- "gorgeous"

- he compliments you in a blunt way

- and when you feel especially down, you'll find extra shiny rocks in your pockets

jane, voice:

- she could listen to your voice for hours

- or the rest of eternity

- and she damn well should

- when she's stressed and unable to nap, she'll beg you to tell her how your day has been. and in the most detailed way imaginable. tell her which direction the blender spun when it churned up your fruity smoothie

- and pretty soon her eyes are fluttering shut and sleep is welcoming her like an old friend

- "oh dearie, want to talk about it?"

- she sets everything aside for you. she wants you to spill your feeling guts out so she can make sense of it all. it doesn't make sense. your voice soothes her and makes her feel so happy. it's tender and gentle on her canals.

- she holds your hands and makes you look her in the eyes. she tells you how she sometimes can't sleep without you talking to her. she's fallen asleep countless times by your side because of your voice alone

- and she swears you are an angel from above with an voice as soothing and musical as yours.

- when she misses any of your calls, she'll pray that you left her a voicemail

- and instead of texting, she'll call to hear your voice. even if it's a simple topic that can be solved better through messages

Helen, hip dips/tummy:

- you're like the most perfectly sculpted statue to him. or a portrait made with the best paints and spent the most amount of time on

- he's breathless by your beauty constantly

- and he's a flustered blubbering mess. unable to find his words or compose himself when you so much as smile at him

- god knows how he managed to land a date with you. or a committed relationship.

- he begs to paint you and that's when the topic comes up

- he sits there and listens patiently, frowning more and more as you spill your squishy heart out to him

- he's silent for a moment

- "but I think you're beautiful."

- he isn't sure how to say it. but to him, god spent the most time on you

- you stun him anytime you enter a room

- and he takes extra care of you. he makes sure to compliment you more and more, hoping his words and the love he manages to shower you in is enough to mend you

- it probably isn't, because that might not be how it works for everyone, but he's trying and will do anything it takes for his lovely

- he's extra touchy, hugging you closer. you can feel his heart beating against your back as he holds you to him, back to his chest.

- "you always look so beautiful without even trying... how?"

- and he kisses you

- you'll get some good ol' helen lovin'

Ben, acne/eczema:

- let's get something straight first: he's a tit. a whole one. he's teased you before but never jabbed at insecurities

- and he did it to show his love at first

- but here you are, mumbling about how you hate your acne and the deep scars it's left on your back and face.

- "that just means your skin is oily"

"I wish it wasn't. it makes me look /ugly/"

- he stops right then and there, turning to stare at you like you insulted his entire family tree

- and you may as well have

- he tells you to never say that again and doesn't listen to excuses

- takes your face in his hands and makes you swear on it

- he kisses all over your face

- "I'll do face masks and shit with you if it'll make you happy"

- and he follows through with that!

- when he's at the store he buys new products to try, and he reassures you that your skin will get better eventually when you're upset over his glow

- he had a hell of a lot of acne when he was alive and a thriving teen

- and he can't find words to explain how beautiful you are to him

- you just are and he assumes it's common knowledge

- to you and everyone else

- he won't let you talk shit about yourself, and won't let anyone else do that either

LJ, face shape/proportions:

- he just frowns insecurities at first

- isn't there more to worry about?

- he sees it genuinely dishearten you and softens. he gently takes his claws through your hair, mumbling about how he didn't know it bothered you so much

- "...but it's.. your face?"

- he winces at his own stupidity and inability to comfort someone else

- he lets you ramble it all out and tells you the hard truth: there isn't a lot you can do. plastic surgery is expensive and often gets botched, and there's people out there who'd kill for a face like your own

- he's a hard ass but a very very loveable one

- he kisses you and holds you to him, telling you that he loves you over and over

- the next day he's arranged a day to yourself so you aren't stressing your weak squish brain.

- he's taken care of your household responsibilities for you and brings in your favorite snacks

- puts on your favorite show or movie and cuddles you the rest of the day

- he holds you so securely and protectively, even when it's just the two of you

- no one will get their hands on you or make you feel bad about yourself

- not whole, he still has a good ass kicking in him left.

Toby, and scars:

- he knows what it's like. he has scars up and down his arms and over his back from the car wreck and faint ones on the side of his fingers from how he tore his skin down to the bone with his his teeth

- he doesn't take the same approach as jeff, and instead wants you to talk it all out and cry until you're exhausted

- he tells you every scar has a story and he loves yours

- because it brought you right to him

- and he couldn't have made it through most of the shit he has without you.

- "I l-luh-love you"

- you make him feel better about himself and he wants you to feel the same way with him

- he'll gently brush his fingers across your scars, tough so light and airy you can barely feel it

- he's always ready to listen to how you got them

- no matter how stupid or not badass the story may be, he's invested because you're his storybook

- and he can't wait to dig in and read it again and again

Ej, big nose:

- he's always found himself gazing at your profile from his spot. anytime he can see it, he traces it silently with just his eyes

- and he looks away flustered

- he thinks it's fits your face. he doesn't take listening to you talk about a nose job or anyone else's straight bridged nose

- yours is perfect and he can't picture you with another one

- he lifts his mask and presses a kiss to the bridge or the tip of it often

- and he loves watching your face flush red in reaction

- "I think it looks lovely on you"

- and he'll tell you that every single day if he has to

- with him being an immortal demon means he has plenty of time

- as long as you're glued to his side he's telling you how much he adores the features that are plastered to your face

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Welcome to Faerieland - Fan Fic (last chapters)

Here we go! Last chapters of Welcome to Faerieland.

Link to full story on AO3 here.

*****

Dru and Ash landed a mile or so away from their destination, in order to avoid drawing attention to the location. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the two rocs turned around and disappeared above the treetops.

“I can walk,” Dru said and Ash offered his arm to steady her while she limped toward the general direction of the cottage. She knew it pretty well, it had sort of become a Blackthorns’ country home.

“So how do you know this place?”

“My eldest brother is dating the King of the Unseelie Court, and that’s where they meet sometimes.”

Ash whistled.

“One of your brothers is King Kieran’s lover? I think I heard about him.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious, although they won’t ever be able to be official about it. I guess you know what the rules are about faerie royalty’s consorts?”

“I do,” he averted his gaze and brushed a hand through his hair, in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. Dru realized it was the first time Ash had looked uncomfortable about a subject.

“A lot of rules need to be changed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t you agree?” His green eyes bore into her as he said it, as if he was desperate for her approval.

“Well, King Kieran has already been carrying out a lot of changes since he came to power. It’s just that… sometimes, it takes time. You can’t change the world overnight.”

Ash kicked a pebble. “You could, if you didn’t insist on everything being consensual. Maybe King Kieran cares too much about what people think of him... or, you know, in general.” He shrugged but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and it almost made her cringe.

“You know, Ash, if what you are looking for in a sovereign is arbitrary decisions and a bitchy attitude, we have the Seelie Queen for that.”

She had expected Ash to laugh, his free, careless laugh - God, she loved it when he did that - but he seemed lost in thought.

She had to admit she had been a bit harsh. She knew the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were in much better terms now that King Arawn was dead. The Queen had appointed the Unseelie Prince Adaon as her most trusted advisor and the two of them and King Kieran met regularly to reinforce the bonds and cooperation between both realms.

Dru started humming a song and Ash paused, his green eyes widening. “Are you singing… Royals ?”

“Yeah, I love that song. Do you know it?”

“I do,” he answered, suppressing a smile.

As they walked, she sang louder - she knew the lyrics by heart - and he watched her with glittering eyes, clearly entertained.

“And we'll never be royals It don't run in our blood That kind of luxe just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler You can call me queen bee”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered in her ear as he tickled her, and she elbowed him playfully.

He sang along with her then - he had a beautiful tenor voice - both of them throwing their heads back at the same time to howl at the sky “And baby, I'll rule - I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule” , like a pair of wolves. They roared with laughter, Dru holding her ribs and leaning against Ash for support. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she marvelled at the fact that she had found a new friend in such a short time.

At the Academy, people either feared her because she was a Blackthorn or wanted to be friends with her simply for that same reason. Or both. She was almost a celebrity, despite herself. Only because of her last name and her eldest brothers’ hand in ending the Cold Peace in the most spectacular way. And of course, there were always the loud-mouthed bigots and moralists who were baffled by the Blackthorns’ ties with the Fair Folk and their so-called “sexual and moral depravity”. The Rosales, of course, suffered the same criticism, and Jaime had always been a comforting shoulder and reliable friend to Dru in those moments where she felt she had had too much to deal with.

She didn’t want to worry Julian, Emma, Mark or even Helen with her troubles making friends at the Academy.

She couldn’t confide in Ty, because he didn’t care at all what people thought, and was content with sticking to his close friends, Livvy and Anush. His teachers, especially Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were absolute fans - even if Fell would never admit it - and everyone at the Scholomance was too impressed by his obvious academic superiority - and maybe, the Carpathian lynx tailing him - to dare bother him anyway.

Ash seemed to be far away from all of this, as if he had been living as a hermit in a remote tower, which was probably close to the truth.

He was the only one outside her siblings, with the exception of Jaime of course, to treat her like an ordinary girl.

And maybe, maybe someday Ash could become more than a friend. He was nice, definitely fun, absolutely gorgeous and he had kissed her after all, even though she knew it could be meaningless where faeries were concerned. She had been waiting for Jaime to figure things out for so long, and Ash had appeared out of nowhere and had shown interest without a moment’s hesitation.

She was interrupted in her thoughts as a broad-shouldered silhouette falling from the sky dropped on the ground before them. Dru released Ash’s arm to clap both her hands on her mouth, relief washing over her. Kit, looking as angelic as ever with his bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair, fluttered his white wings tipped with gold as he advanced gleefully to greet Dru.

The reunion was cut short as he was suddenly thrown back by a figure shooting straight into him like a cannonball and from one moment to the next, Kit disappeared into a ball of black and white feathers, rolling on the grass.

It took Dru a moment to realize that Ash had disappeared from her side and that he was actually the one who had attacked Kit. She ran to separate them but soon they were shooting up, caught in a wrestling match a few feet above ground, moving so swiftly they were a blur.

Dru let out a heavy sigh before she put two fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. The two figures froze - they were still grappling each other - and looked down.

“ASH! KIT! Both of you. Get down here! NOW.”

They both looked at each other.

“ASH! What the hell is wrong with you, this is my brother’s boyfriend !” Dru continued, gesturing frantically toward Kit.

Ash released Kit first, grudgingly, and they both landed softly on the floor. There was a long gash across Ash’s cheek but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering in excitement. He winked at Dru as he wiped blood from his mouth. Kit was rearranging his hair, looking pissed, and Dru realized that his knuckles were bloody and that there was a small cut on his eyebrow. Both of them seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Batman ?” Kit said, glaring at Ash.

“Sorry,” Ash replied, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I took you for a psychopathic jerk who nearly killed me a few years ago. He literally kicked me and my uncle out of the place we used to live in. You look exactly like him.”

“Well, it can’t have been me since last night was the first time I ever saw you,” Kit replied sharply, wiping his bloody knuckles over his shirt.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that out pretty fast. You fight like a pussy compared to him.”

“Want to say that again?” Kit lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Boys, could you please stop comparing the sizes of your dicks, so we can move on?”

Ash and Kit complied, arguing over which Batman movie was best the entire way, until the cottage came into view, a few feet away. The door opened and Jaime came out of it, running toward them.

“Dru,” he cried out. He caught up to her, and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She lost herself in his familiar and comforting scent and pressed her cheek against his torso. “Mi corazón,” he whispered softly. "We were worried sick. Cómo estás?”

Jaime brushed his hands through Dru’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She swiftly pulled back, her eyes darting to where Ash was leaning against a tree, talking to Kit, his arms crossed. He was smiling indulgently at her, as if he didn’t mind.

“I am fine, thanks to Ash,” she said, and pulled Jaime over to where Ash and Kit were standing. “Jaime, this is Ash. Ash, this is Jaime,” she introduced, waving her hand awkwardly between the two of them.

“Thank you for taking care of our precious Dru,” Jaime said, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”

“No hay de qué!” Ash replied, shaking his hand.

“Hablas español?” Jaime asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Solo a hombres con un excelente gusto en mujeres.” He gave Jaime a wicked grin and looked pointedly at Dru. Jaime’s face fell.

A high-pitched shriek had them whip their heads up in time to see a majestic roc land on the ground, a few feet away. Ty hopped gracefully from the giant bird and walked immediately to Dru. He was pale - even more so than usual - with deep dark circles under his gray eyes, and Dru marvelled at how gorgeous her brother was anyway, whatever state he was in. She sometimes wished she had inherited the same stunningly sharp features. Without a word, Ty knelt in front of Dru and started inspecting her wound.

“Ash, this is my brother Ty,” Dru announced proudly.

Ash started to extend his hand but Dru shook her head at him. He let it fall by his side.

“Ty, this is Ash.”

Tiberius nodded without lifting his gaze.

“Who tended to the wound?”

“I did,” Ash answered.

Ty finally stood - and Dru realized Ash was almost as tall as Ty, which was saying something, since Ty was very tall - and glanced at Ash for the first time, his gray eyes looking down under his long eyelashes and not lifting up from a spot on Ash’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said curtly.

Hesitantly, Ty put his arms around Dru in one of the rare hugs he had ever granted her. It was awkward and short, but Dru knew it meant Ty had been truly terrified of losing her.

After they released each other, Ty whirled and started walking toward the cottage. He paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. The four of them had just been standing there, staring at him. “Are you coming?”

They all hurried after Ty, Dru having one arm around Ash’s, and the other around Jaime’s.

“So, tell me. Are all your brothers this handsome?” Ash asked her, as he looked Ty up and down appreciatively.

“EXCUSE ME? “ Kit interjected. His whole face had gone bright red in an instant and he started cracking his bloody knuckles. He looked poised for a second round.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Ash did not seem in the least bit concerned by Kit’s reaction.

“It’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”

“And I just said I found him attractive. Is that in any way offensive?”

Dru laughed. “No,” she said. “I am sure you were simply stating your opinion and not trying to steal Kit’s boyfriend.”

“I am not trying to steal anyone’s lover,” Ash concurred, gazing wistfully at Dru. ”I just admire beauty when I see it”.

“But he would definitely be up for sex if Ty wanted to,” Jaime muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Ash shot him a puzzled look. “Of course, I would. Why not? Kit would be welcome as well, the more the merrier.”

Kit opened his mouth but seemed too much in a shock for a witty comeback. That was a first.

Oddly enough, Dru realized she didn’t feel jealous or baffled by Ash’s statement. He was like an untamed bird breaking out of a cage, unwilling to bend to any rules of propriety. She guessed part of it was due to his fey heritage.

“Mark is the Unseelie King’s lover, the Seelie Queen keeps trying to get into Julian’s pants and now you two,” Jaime said eventually, looking over at Ty and Dru. “What is it with the Blackthorns and the Fair Folk anyway?”

“Probably the exact same thing there is with Blackthorns and any other species,” Ash said evenly.

Everyone turned a questioning look at him.

“They are hot,” he said simply, and shrugged.

Everyone laughed at that.

*****

They were all starving so they decided to have breakfast in the cottage before heading back home.

Kit, wearing an apron that had "Doughnut sandwiches are a proper meal” printed on it (and that probably belonged to Mark Blackthorn), was in the kitchen, scrambling a huge portion of eggs in a large pan with a wooden spoon. He somehow managed to make it look totally hot.

“Eggs?” Ty asked Kit as he came to stand next to him and put a hand on the small of Kit’s back.

“Yeah, I would have cooked pancakes, but we are missing a few ingredients to do that. So it will be eggs. Eggs and fruits. God knows there are plenty of fruits here.”

“You know how to cook pancakes?” Ty asked, his gray eyes widening in surprise.

Kit shot him a shy glance.

“Yeah, I… I asked Julian for his recipe. You know, in case one day I needed to cook for you…r family.”

Kit and Ty both exchanged a look that was so intimate, Jaime had to glance away. He found Ash leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, and gazing at him with a smirk on his face. He looked like he owned the place and hadn’t just popped uninvited into the home of strangers. When Jaime raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Ash unfolded his arms to draw the shape of a heart in the air in front of him. Jaime rolled his eyes. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

They set the table, while Dru was in the bedroom looking for clothes.

Kit and Ty sat next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table and their backs to the kitchen counter, which left Ash to sit across from Ty and Jaime to sit across from Kit. They had left a spot at the head of the table for Drusilla, who would have Ash on her left and Ty on her right when she came back.

Ty only had fruits on his plate, and he was eyeing Kit gulping his eggs down, as if he was reconsidering having some himself.

“Want to try?” Ash brought his fork to Ty, who flinched as if he had been stabbed.

Kit grabbed Ash’s wrist and pushed the fork away from Ty.

“Ty can use my fork if he wants to try it. He is my boyfriend, after all.”

Ash shrugged. “Yeah, no worries, I think I got that. You can tattoo it on your forehead, it will spare you from having to repeat it to every living soul you encounter on Earth.”

Ash glanced at Jaime, and said in a lower voice, directed only at him. “And it will keep other people from pining for someone they can’t have.”

“Excuse me?” Jaime turned to whisper in Ash’s ear. “What does it have to do with Dru and me?”

“I was not talking about Dru,” Ash whispered back.

They both jerked their heads up, as Dru swooped in from the bedroom then, wearing a beautiful red dress that Jaime remembered having seen on Cristina. It was much tighter on Dru, clinging to her curves and emphasizing her cleavage. Jaime swallowed. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on in his head.

Ash immediately stood to draw Dru’s chair and she nodded by way of thanking him. She sat on it as if it was a throne, her chin up.

Jaime glanced over at Ash, who seemed so free about his sexuality, and felt a pang of envy.

“So, what’s your deal, Ash?” Jaime blurted. Ash raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you…” Jaime cleared his throat. “Bixesual?”

A slow grin spread across Ash’s face. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to fill your fact sheet about me and tick one of your little boxes?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jaime said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I know you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am not offended by your question,” Ash continued in a gentler voice. “It’s just that… not everyone can fit into little boxes.” He swiftly glanced at Ty when he said it. It was a flicker movement, but lynx-eyed Ty caught it immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tiberius said. “I am definitely gay.” He slipped half a banana inside his mouth then, totally oblivious of the gesture. Kit and Ash weren’t though. Kit made a noise between a snort and a chuckle and spilled the water he was drinking through his nose and all over his shirt, while Ash almost fell off his chair roaring with laughter. Dru looked at the boys with motherly affection.

Jaime stood and hurried to the kitchen to get a towel to clean the mess. When he turned, Kit was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, extending his hand and looking at Jaime with a genuine smile that lit up his gorgeous face.

“Thanks, Jaime,” he said, as he grabbed the towel and started padding his shirt with it. The planes of his muscles stood out and could be seen right through the wet fabric.

“No problem,” Jaime mumbled, feeling his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.

He averted his gaze, past Kit, to the table, where Ty and Dru had their heads bent together, caught in a deep conversation.

Ash was peering around Ty, watching Jaime with amusement. When he caught Jaime gazing back, he stuck his tongue inside his cheek, and started moving his fist back and forth in front of his mouth, miming a blowjob.

Jaime resisted the urge to flip him the finger.

****

When breakfast was over, Dru lay sprawled on a sofa, her leg propped on Jaime’s lap, and Ash was examining the sound system, so he could put music on.

Kit and Ty had disappeared. God only knew where.

“So, what was that demon attack in the middle of Faerie about?” Jaime asked.

“Ty has a theory. And you won’t like it,” Dru replied. “He believes the Unseelie prince who held us hostage has made an alliance with a Greater Demon… probably a Prince of Hell.”

Jaime tensed. If Ty believed this, it was very bad news indeed. “So why send an army of demons to attack an ally?”

Dru twirled a lock of her dark brown hair as she replied. “Two options. Either the Prince of Hell discovered that his ally had been exposed and wanted to silence him. Or… or we will soon be caught in the middle of an internal war between the Princes of Hell.”

“You mean… there might be more than one involved?”

“To quote Ty, evidence makes it more likely than not,” Dru replied, imitating her brother’s voice. Jaime felt dread wash over him.

He gently put Dru’s leg on an armrest and excused himself.

Sometimes, he felt so anxious it was all he could do not to curl up in a corner and wait for his chest pain and dizziness to fade. The mission he had carried out a few years back, where he had to stay hidden all the time, never staying in one place, had made him jumpy, poised for any threat. He didn’t want Dru to see that side of him. For her, he could only be the calm and reliable friend she was used to.

He decided to scout the rest of the cottage for an empty room. There was a corridor - leading to a bathroom? more bedrooms maybe? - on the left side of the main suite’s door.

He went through and just as he turned around a corner... stopped short.

Halfway down the corridor, Ty was leaning with his back against the wall and Kit had his hands propped on either side of him, trapping Ty in a cage of his arms… and they were kissing.

Jaime had never seen two men kissing before and he was surprised to see how tender and sweet it looked. Ty was running his long pale fingers in Kit’s blond hair while the other hand rested on the small of Kit’s back, half of it concealed under Kit’s waistband.

Kit was naked from the waist up and Jaime could see all the tanned muscles in his back contract as he deepened the kiss, eliciting soft moans from the Blackthorn boy.

They were beautiful together, two opposites inevitably drawn to each other, their bodies fitting perfectly like yin and yang.

Jaime felt his whole body react, with a familiar flutter around his stomach and heat rushing up his cheeks. He knew he should not be watching, but he couldn’t get himself to tear his gaze away.

Kit broke the kiss to trace the dark Marks swirling up Ty’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Ty’s gray eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jaime. His intense gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem surprised or angry. He simply raised an eyebrow at Jaime as if to say Can I help you with something ?

Jaime hastily retreated to the living room.

He found Ash’s lean figure perched on the wide low table at the center of the room, dancing to the blasting sound of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and singing along. “If you like it, you should have put a ring on it,” actually sounded very good in his velvety voice. He was twisting, hands on his hips, and throwing his legs up like a professional, while making dramatic faces at Dru, who was sprawled on the sofa, howling with laughter. As he brushed his lips with his finger, licking it and started caressing his torso while throwing his head back, shaking his beautiful silvery hair, he managed to make it look erotic and not ridiculous at all. Jaime had to admit… His moves were perfect, fluid, coordinated and he totally… pulled it off. Annoying jerk.

“Having fun without me?” Kit burst into the room - he was, fortunately, wearing a shirt this time - and immediately hopped on the table to join Ash and one could not imagine they had been wrestling less than an hour before.

When Dru caught Jaime watching them, she patted the spot on the sofa next to her and he moved to drop beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

The music had changed to Rihanna’s S&M and Ash and Kit were dancing together as if they had rehearsed for hours, their dance steps coordinated and smooth. They looked like two lifelong best buddies who could guess each other’s moves. They were pulsing with energy, although obviously neither of them had slept the previous night. Ash made a show of licking Kit’s cheek, and Kit pushed him away, grimacing. When Ash arched his back to rub his buttocks against Kit’s crotch and Kit spanked him, Dru wiped tears from her eyes. Jaime imagined what it would be like to go to a nightclub with the both of them. They would most likely steal the show.

As if on cue, the next song was… Stole the show, by Kygo. As they danced close together in perfect synchrony, Jaime noticed for the first time the similarities between Ash and Kit. Though Ash was all pale, white blond hair and alabaster skin, and Kit was all golden hair and tanned muscles, there was something about their facial features, the planes of their cheeks, the lines of their jaws… They did not look like brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.

Jaime grabbed a Hot Shadowhunters calendar that had been left on the side table and started flipping through the pages. Looking at the January page featuring Jace Herondale, he wondered why everyone said Kit was like a mini Jace when Jaime could clearly see there was a difference, now that Kit had grown into more adult features. At least to Jaime, Kit’s fey heritage was plain.

When the music changed to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, Jaime turned his head to find Ty leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the two dancers with a bemused expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

He eventually caught Kit’s eye, lifted a questioning eyebrow, and jerked his head toward the bedroom door. Kit stumbled from the table in his hurry to join Ty and followed him out of the living room and through the main bedroom door, which shut behind them.

*****

Kit jumped on the huge threesome bed as soon as they were inside the bedroom. He felt exhilarated, full of adrenaline and restless energy, and he wanted Ty so much that he was certain he would spontaneously combust if they didn’t share their bodies within the next minute.

He shot Ty a smoldering look as he lounged on the thick mattress, twisting his shoulders seductively while singing along to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, which was blasting through the thin walls.

“We got this king-size to ourselves Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's Kama Sutra show and tell, yeah”

Ty had folded his arms against his chest and was shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this misbehaving boy.

“Kit, you interrupted me earlier when I was trying to have a serious conversation. Will you please let me finish this time?”

"I'm in trouble." Kit continued, clapping a hand over his mouth in a dramatic oops gesture. "But I'd love to be in trouble with you."

Ty rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem ready to play along with Kit, so Kit finally stood and grabbed Ty's upper arms, forcing him to back up until he had him pinned against the wall. He started wiggling his hips, rubbing against Ty, his body swaying to the music.

“You've got to give it up to me I'm screaming, "Mercy, mercy, please!" Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

Kit slipped a hand under Ty’s waistband, straight into his boxer shorts, and whispered “Hello there” as he brushed his lips against Ty’s ear.

“Kit…” Ty said sharply, as a warning, though Kit could hear his breathing was uneven.

“Ty,” Kit replied with all the seriousness he could muster. “When I saw you riding that Shinigami demon carrying a crossbow, I was so turned on it was all I could do not to jump your bones there and then.”

Ty laughed softly. “It appears you have a kink involving me wielding dangerous weapons. Maybe I should bring a claymore to bed next time and threaten you with it.”

“Honey, you know that, as far as I am concerned, you carry the deadliest weapon around with you at all times,” Kit started stroking Ty’s length as if to illustrate his point. It hardened under his touch. Good, we’re heading somewhere. "I was talking about your brain of course," Kit added.

“Kit, listen to me.” Ty grabbed Kit’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants. Kit groaned. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange about Ash?”

That caught Kit’s attention. He had not expected Ash to be the subject of their conversation. He had actually hoped to avoid any kind of conversation altogether. For a little while at least.

“Well, I noticed he is an amazing fighter and dancer. I am totally up for challenging him again, either in a training room or on a dancefloor.” There was something about Ash and him fighting and dancing together, a raw yet steady energy, not like the restlessness and all consuming love he felt around Ty, but something grounding him, making him even more focused. As if he had found a kindred warrior spirit.

“He probably has no effect on you, but… I think spells have been worked on him to render him… likeable. People are inevitably drawn to him, want to protect and follow him.”

Kit swallowed, suddenly deadly serious. “Does this… work on you?”

“No. And I have several theories about that. First… Well, I am a bit different. My brain doesn’t work the same way others’ do. Second, the Blackthorns have a bit of Greater Demon blood, even if it is quite diluted. I do believe Dru genuinely likes him.”

“You mean from your ancestor Lucie Herondale?”

Ty nodded. “And the third and most important explanation is… you. You have my full loyalty.” He rested his forehead against Kit’s. “There is no way in hell I am following him, when I could follow you. ”

Kit brushed his lips over Ty’s.

“What about Jaime? He seems to dislike Ash.”

“I am still trying to figure this out. But it may be one of the reasons I am immune to it, myself.”

“What? You think the Rosales have Greater Demon blood as well?”

“Maybe. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

They were both interrupted when they heard voices raising in the living room. Jaime’s voice was the loudest. And he sounded totally pissed.

Ty hurried toward the door, and Kit followed.

****

As soon as Kit and Ty had disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ash jumped over Dru and Jaime’s heads to land behind the sofa and stole the Hot Shadowhunters calendar from Jaime’s hands. “Hey!” Jaime cried out.

Ash circled back and dropped himself next to Dru, which left her crammed between him and Jaime. As he flipped to the first page, the January page, Ash froze. He was gaping at the picture of Jace Herondale, as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

Falling for Jace Herondale, already? What a surprise.

But oddly, Ash didn’t smile or make a sarcastic comment, as Jaime would have expected. He had a sorrowful expression and a faraway look.

“This is Jace Herondale,” Dru said softly. “Surely, even you have heard of him ?”

Ash swallowed. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Yeah, I have. He looks… happy.”

“Well, of course, he is happy. He has it all, hasn’t he?” Jaime said. “War hero. Married to the love of his life. The Consul as faithful parabatai.” Ash flinched, as if each word was a needle to his skin.

“Ash, is everything okay?”

Ash shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about… the butterfly effect. How a single human being’s existence… or absence, can change the course of things… can change the whole world.”

Where the hell did that come from? Jaime wondered.

Ash lifted his gaze to stare at the door where Kit and Ty had disappeared. “Take Kit for instance. Who knew it would only take a hot boyfriend to turn a ruthless, bloodthirsty ruler into a harmless kitten.”

“Er- Ash, I am not sure I am following you,” Dru said gently. “What do you mean?”

Ash let out a heavy sigh and slumped back, crossing his long arms behind his head, the Hot Shadowhunters calendar left at the January page on his lap.

“Nothing, I am rambling.” It looked like he was lost in his thoughts again.

Jaime seized the opportunity to whisper in Dru’s ear. “Dru, can we find some place private to… talk?”

Dru gazed at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to answer as the entrance door rattled at that moment and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise.

The door opened and Mark Blackthorn, all tousled blond hair, pointy ears and flushed cheeks, erupted inside the cottage, wearing ragged jeans and a white shirt with a message that stated, “All good things come in threes”. He paused, as if he didn’t really expect to see so many people in his living room.

Jaime immediately withdrew his arm from Dru’s shoulders and stood, but soon registered that Mark was not looking at him… He was staring at Ash who had, from one moment to the next, leapt on the table in front of them and was crouched on top of it, ready to pounce, a dangerous glint in his ice green eyes. He had moved to protect Dru from a potential threat, Jaime realized. And there was no trace of the Ash that had been goofing around with Kit a moment before. The feeling that he had been played like a fool until then hit Jaime like a freight train. They had all fallen for Ash’s laid-back, good guy act. In one instant, Ash had revealed his true, predatory nature…

“Mark!” Dru waved from the sofa, unfazed. “You already know Jaime of course and this is Ash,” she introduced. “Ash… this is my brother Mark.”

Ash relaxed from his stance and leapt off the table, flashing a bright smile and wearing his cool guy mask back on. As if he hadn’t been ready to rip Mark’s throat a second before. The abrupt change in Ash's behaviour almost gave Jaime a whiplash.

“Have we… met before?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with his brows furrowed as he closed the door.

“In any event, I wish to be properly introduced,” Ash said, evading the question. “I am Dru’s boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Dru interjected at the same time Jaime exclaimed “WHAT?”

Ash shrugged. “I thought our make out session had settled it.”

Jaime felt heat rush up his face. He whirled on Dru. “We’ve known each other for three years and you’ve known this guy for what? Less than twelve hours? And you’ve already kissed him?”

“To be fair, I am the one who kissed her ,” Ash said in a calm voice. “She didn’t tell me to stop, though.” He paused, his long fingers stroking his delicate chin as he pondered. “Then again, how could she have, what with my tongue being down her throat and all?”

“Ash, don’t intervene,” Dru said, her already white complexion growing paler by the second. “This is not between us.”

“Really?” Ash answered in a fake shocked expression. “I could have sworn it was my tongue down your throat.”

“What’s going on here?” Ty asked as he came out of the bedroom, followed by Kit.

“GREAT!” Jaime said. “That’s just my luck! We’re just missing Julian and…”

“And?” Julian asked, his tall broad-shouldered figure appearing in the entrance. He froze in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his face a mask of shock as his blue-green eyes swept across the room.

“... And all my worst nightmares are reunited in the same room. OK, let’s be done with it.”

Jaime took a deep breath and caught each of the Blackthorn brothers’ gaze, one after the other.

“I. FANCY. DRU. OKAY? I like her. I know she’s sixteen, but we are good together and I want her to be my girlfriend.”

*Cough* “ Too late.” *Cough* That was Ash. Dru turned to glare at him.

“Well, that’s not even relevant anymore, is it? Since apparently… She prefers Legolas, here.” Jaime continued, waving his hand toward Ash.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t even look like him.”

“Lego-who?” Ty asked, puzzled.

“He’s talking about Ash. Don’t worry honey, I’ll explain,” Kit said, speaking for the first time.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Julian asked, turning toward Kit, a flicker of panic crossing his features.

“He just came out of the bedroom with Ty,” Mark said.

Kit lifted both his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t having sex with him,” he blurted. “I mean… not this time.” His face went red. “I mean- I am out of here. If anyone’s looking for me, I’m in the bedroom.” He whirled and paused in front of the bedroom door, his hand on the knob. “Not having sex with anyone...” he specified before he disappeared behind it.

Julian heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Ash.

Ash gulped. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, his green eyes wide.

“This is not the end of it. But first things first. Can anyone tell me what the hell Ash Morgenstern is doing here?”

They had barely registered the question, when a sharp cry from behind Julian had them all jump. A slender figure peered around him, red hair like flames flowing over a green velvet dress embroidered with gold. Jaime had seen enough drawings and pictures of her to recognize her instantly. The Seelie Queen.

She pushed Julian aside and ran to Ash, throwing her thin pale arms around him and burying her face in his chest, the golden circlet around her head tipping to the side as she did. “Where were you last night? I came to the house, and it was empty . I have been looking for you everywhere since!”

Dru was staring at Ash open-mouthed. He shot her an apologetic look.

“Mom, let me introduce you to Dru. Dru…” Ash cleared his throat. “Meet my mom.”

*****

Tagging @gabtapia ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy it and, of course, don't hesitate to correct my spanish ;)

[ukdamo]

The Tower

William Butler Yeats

                       I

What shall I do with this absurdity — O heart, O troubled heart — this caricature, Decrepit age that has been tied to me As to a dog's tail?                                 Never had I more Excited, passionate, fantastical Imagination, nor an ear and eye That more expected the impossible — No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly, Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulben's back And had the livelong summer day to spend. It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack, Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend Until imagination, ear and eye, Can be content with argument and deal In abstract things; or be derided by A sort of battered kettle at the heel.

                                     II

I pace upon the battlements and stare On the foundations of a house, or where Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from the earth; And send imagination forth Under the day's declining beam, and call Images and memories From ruin or from ancient trees, For I would ask a question of them all.

Beyond that ridge lived Mrs. French, and once When every silver candlestick or sconce Lit up the dark mahogany and the wine, A serving-man, that could divine That most respected lady's every wish, Ran and with the garden shears Clipped an insolent farmer's ears And brought them in a little covered dish.

Some few remembered still when I was young A peasant girl commended by a song, Who'd lived somewhere upon that rocky place, And praised the colour of her face, And had the greater joy in praising her, Remembering that, if walked she there, Farmers jostled at the fair So great a glory did the song confer.

And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes, Or else by toasting her a score of times, Rose from the table and declared it right To test their fancy by their sight; But they mistook the brightness of the moon For the prosaic light of day – Music had driven their wits astray – And one was drowned in the great bog of Cloone.

Strange, but the man who made the song was blind; Yet, now I have considered it, I find That nothing strange; the tragedy began With Homer that was a blind man, And Helen has all living hearts betrayed. O may the moon and sunlight seem One inextricable beam, For if I triumph I must make men mad.

And I myself created Hanrahan And drove him drunk or sober through the dawn From somewhere in the neighbouring cottages. Caught by an old man's juggleries He stumbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro And had but broken knees for hire And horrible splendour of desire; I thought it all out twenty years ago:

Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn; And when that ancient ruffian's turn was on He so bewitched the cards under his thumb That all but the one card became A pack of hounds and not a pack of cards, And that he changed into a hare. Hanrahan rose in frenzy there And followed up those baying creatures towards —

O towards I have forgotten what — enough! I must recall a man that neither love Nor music nor an enemy's clipped ear Could, he was so harried, cheer; A figure that has grown so fabulous There's not a neighbour left to say When he finished his dog's day: An ancient bankrupt master of this house.

Before that ruin came, for centuries, Rough men-at-arms, cross-gartered to the knees Or shod in iron, climbed the narrow stairs, And certain men-at-arms there were Whose images, in the Great Memory stored, Come with loud cry and panting breast To break upon a sleeper's rest While their great wooden dice beat on the board.

As I would question all, come all who can; Come old, necessitous, half-mounted man; And bring beauty's blind rambling celebrant; The red man the juggler sent Through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French, Gifted with so fine an ear; The man drowned in a bog's mire, When mocking muses chose the country wench.

Did all old men and women, rich and poor, Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door, Whether in public or in secret rage As I do now against old age? But I have found an answer in those eyes That are impatient to be gone; Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan, For I need all his mighty memories.

Old lecher with a love on every wind, Bring up out of that deep considering mind All that you have discovered in the grave, For it is certain that you have Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing Plunge, lured by a softening eye, Or by a touch or a sigh, Into the labyrinth of another's being;

Does the imagination dwell the most Upon a woman won or woman lost? If on the lost, admit you turned aside From a great labyrinth out of pride, Cowardice, some silly over-subtle thought Or anything called conscience once; And that if memory recur, the sun's Under eclipse and the day blotted out.

                         III

It is time that I wrote my will; I choose upstanding men That climb the streams until The fountain leap, and at dawn Drop their cast at the side Of dripping stone; I declare They shall inherit my pride, The pride of people that were Bound neither to Cause nor to State, Neither to slaves that were spat on, Nor to the tyrants that spat, The people of Burke and of Grattan That gave, though free to refuse – Pride, like that of the morn, When the headlong light is loose, Or that of the fabulous horn, Or that of the sudden shower When all streams are dry, Or that of the hour When the swan must fix his eye Upon a fading gleam, Float out upon a long Last reach of glittering stream And there sing his last song. And I declare my faith: I mock Plotinus' thought And cry in Plato's teeth, Death and life were not Till man made up the whole, Made lock, stock and barrel Out of his bitter soul, Aye, sun and moon and star, all, And further add to that That, being dead, we rise, Dream and so create Translunar Paradise. I have prepared my peace With learned Italian things And the proud stones of Greece, Poet's imaginings And memories of love, Memories of the words of women, All those things whereof Man makes a superhuman Mirror-resembling dream.

As at the loophole there The daws chatter and scream, And drop twigs layer upon layer. When they have mounted up, The mother bird will rest On their hollow top, And so warm her wild nest.

I leave both faith and pride To young upstanding men Climbing the mountain side, That under bursting dawn They may drop a fly; Being of that metal made Till it was broken by This sedentary trade.

Now shall I make my soul, Compelling it to study In a learned school Till the wreck of body, Slow decay of blood, Testy delirium Or dull decrepitude, Or what worse evil come – The death of friends, or death Of every brilliant eye That made a catch in the breath – Seem but the clouds of the sky When the horizon fades; Or a bird's sleepy cry Among the deepening shades.

[theinvisibledreamergirl]

She’s thunderstorms

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Helena Craig) x M!OC (Clay Banner)

Words count: 2.5 k

Warning: 🔞 content/Language

Category: Angst/AU

A.N: Part two of A Triangle of Love Series. Events after the Sweet dreams, TN fic. Helen is the alter ego of Klaw Craig. Feel free to judge me because now that I’m re-reading it… it’s bullshit and I don’t know what to call this. Especially the song it’s not fitting duhhh. Going to log off after posting it. *sighs*

Song: “She’s thunderstorms” - Arctic Monkeys

MASTERLIST

———————————————————————

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

Bryce Lahela was right.

She’s like a goddess that entered to this building and blessed my life when I made eye contact with her.

Indeed a blessing.

She was the most incredible woman and everyone would take a bow just for her hand and fulfill all the wishes she wanted.

He couldn’t feel his breath in that short moment when they exchanged looks. Did someone pause his heart and his body? Because surely he had multiple questions as his mind drifted into thoughts.

When did she come here? How did she find him? Where did she work before coming here? Is she alone? But if not, who was with her? The hair colour and style had changed too. From the straight dark brown with bangs had gone into long, wavy light ash blonde hair that seemed to make her a different person.

But her face was still like he left it. Her arched brows that made her confident; captivating eyes with determination; full and inviting lips that always gave him chills when she crooked them into a playful smirk; her strong and beautiful jaw that tilted whenever he teased her or touched with such delicacy that made her gasp into pleasure; her long neck… without his necklace. He almost scoffed. Of course she had taken it off. What was he expecting?

Their bodies pining in the wall in ecstasy and hearing her sounds...

I’ve been feeling foolish, you should try it

She came and substituted the peace and quiet for

Acrobatic blood, flow concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire

Everything.

He wanted to do everything.

Anytime and anywhere.

With her and only her.

When he saw her hand shaking with another one... he felt a pit into his stomach and a familiar feeling came into his brain.

Mine.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

Here is your host, sounds as if she’s pretty close

When the heat starts growing horns

She’s thunderstorms

That greatly but destructive feeling called jealousy was in his veins. He wanted to reach out and twirl her around and to whisper to her:

I’m sorry and I really missed you.

Instead he came with slow and confident steps as if his imagination vanished quickly without so noticing and a small professional smile appeared in his face and she seemed to understand it. One more reason why he loves her.

“Ah Clay here you are,” Simon spoke breaking his trip of memory lane. “I want to present you Dr. Helena Craig the surgeon who’s going to replace Edgar for a while. Helen this is Dr. Clay Banner our future cardiothoracic surgeon.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Banner… I have heard a lot about you.” It seemed like a lifetime since he had heard her angelic voice that was a symphony in his ears. He held his tears from falling and coughed to fight the strangle voice that was about to let out.

“A pleasure to meet you too Dr. Craig and I can say the same thing about you.”

Something inside of Helen was igniting.

Her flame.

That old flame which burnt her into many pieces and toyed with her body all of those times sharing with him. She couldn’t say that she didn’t miss him. The real him. The one she fell in love with. His adoring face, his soft hands, his broad shoulders where she leaned on and his assuring voice when she felt insecure.

She had mastered perfectly the art of acting and pretending to be satisfied with everything in her life. Little did those people in the room know how her heart was aching miserably and was shattering from disappointment and hurt from the very same man that was just two feet away.

But a baritone and irritating voice seemed to cut off all of that momentary darkness which in fact she thanked him in silence. “Done with the introductions? Great. We’ve got work to do.” Ethan turned his back and started to write in the whiteboard. “The patient is from Manhattan Presbyterian…”

While Ethan was explaining the symptoms, Helen held a transfixed face to all of the theories of her attending and unexpectedly to other colleagues, she started to ask questions which resulted helpful despite being a surgeon. Sometimes she shared thoughts with Clay and even agreeing with them. It was part of the job after all and Clay couldn’t help but feel proud for his woman.

Correction: his ex.

A past tense that he had to learn from now on. But deep inside of him there was a spark of hope that maybe… maybe things would get back to normal. And maybe she would forgive him.

The team was finally dismissed but only two people stayed. Ethan called Helen before she would leave and that made Clay’s blood boiled because all he wanted was to talk to her right after this meeting. He had to try one last card even though it was useless.

“Dr. Ramsey can we talk for a moment?”

“Is there anything wrong Dr. Banner?”

“No j-just,” he stuttered. “Q-questions about the team in general.”

“We will but after I finish a discussion with Dr. Craig if you don’t mind.”

Fuck you.

“Not at all Sir.” He closed the door reluctantly and sighed in defeat.

“What’s the matter Dr. Ramsey?” She asked although she knew damn well why he had called her.

“What are you doing here?” Ethan clasped his fingers as if to stop whatever his mind was blowing now. His ears were still echoing with her words whispering softly.

Thank you for the distraction. I really needed it.

“Starting my job,” she said innocently and shrugged. “Is it irrelevant?”

“Yes, it is,” he nodded and his feet was carrying him over her; something inevitable that no matter what, he couldn’t stop. “I don’t think all of this is a coincidence.”

“Well lucky for you now you’ll have the most trustworthy person in your team that won’t let you down.”

He scoffed while shaking his head. “I highly doubt your confidence.”

“Just wait and see.”

I’ve already seen you.

After their encounter last night Ethan couldn’t sleep. Many times of trying to change and find the perfect position led to nothing but drinking in the balcony that even his dog Jenner didn’t like it and cooed sadly to his owner. What was this woman doing to him? Why he felt so weak in front of her that immediately wanted to bend her over to his desk and scream his name?

“So,” she crossed her arms behind her waist. “How was I?”

He frowned in confusion and god she thought to herself why he had to be such handsome even in that moment. “Hm?”

“In making you feel surprised.”

“Ah that. Well you’ve clearly exceeded my expectations.”

“Wow. So I rendered you speechless then.”

Giggles were ringing in the walls and for the first time in a while Ethan Ramsey smiled at that. It was something so natural that came from her as other people didn’t get his dry humour but she... she was different. It was like a magnet that more and more you get closer, the more attached you become to her.

She’s been loop-the-looping around my mind

Her motorcycle boots give me this kind of

Acrobatic blood, concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire

He cleared his throat in purpose of changing the subject. “The reason why I called you,” he put his hand in his front pocket to reveal a tiny and shining object that seemed familiar to her. “Does this belong to you?

“Oh my god yes! This is my earring!” Helen exclaimed shockingly while grazing it with her thumb. Apparently had slipped when she whispered in his ear. “I was looking it all over my room but I couldn’t find it anywhere.” Her gaze now was turned back to him in gratefulness. “Thank you.”

Without thinking she closed their distance by enveloping him into a hug. This caught Ethan off guard but now he returned the hug back and closed his eyes while inhaling her perfume. She did the same too and in that moment both of them felt safe on each other’s arms as if they knew where they belonged. The world around them didn’t exist for a few seconds and both of them despite not saying out loud, they wanted to continue it.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

“It’s nothing.” He smiled politely when they separated.

“No this is not nothing. I owe you because this earring was really special to me.” She inhaled slowly while considering an option. Taking some risk wouldn’t hurt her? Right? “What do you say uhm- a drink? In this case I can apologise for yesterday’s… thing.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Sure I have, because to be completely honest Dr. Ramsey… I knew who you were.”

And here he thought that she was just another stranger that thankfully didn’t know him. Now he was feeling raged and betrayed because that meant she wanted to impress him only by her appearance and make a spot here on his team. His authoritative voice came back as if to maintain the last straw of himself.

“You did know who were you talking to?”

“Yeah I did. Now I’m speaking to my attending,” she moved tantalising and confidently just like yesterday. “To my colleague. And,” then tilted her chin while saying. “To a possible friend.”

“For the latter dream on.” He warned her.

She laughed heartedly. “We’ll meet at Donahue’s at 9 PM sharply and don’t be late because I can’t wait more than two minutes.”

His eyebrows narrowed incredulously and crossed his arms to his chest. “I don’t remember accepting your offer. And besides… how do you know my agenda? What if I’m busy?”

“Well I don’t remember taking a no answer from you and I’ve got my sources about your special agenda.” She shrugged innocently. “See you tonight doctor.”

The door was closed but not before throwing a playful wink to him. He let out a laugh while shaking his head in disbelief. This woman was really crazy but it was one of a kind and Ethan Ramsey couldn’t wait to know more about her.

——————————————

Helen wasn’t surprised to see him waiting impatiently in the corner while she was talking with Dr. Ramsey.

What was so important that took them this long? He thought.

Actually that was only five minutes but to him it seemed like five hours already. When she got out he couldn’t help but stare at her not knowing where to start first.

“Helen.”

“Dr. Banner,” the plastered smile didn’t leave her face despite being furious and ready to wipe his ass in front of everyone. “You can go now to Dr. Ramsey. He’s free.”

“Actually, can we talk?” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t make you wait too much. I promise.”

Helen whispered only for the two of them to hear. “You and your promises,” a tackle of her tongue was heard twice. “Aren’t in coherence. I don’t know why should I listen to you. Let me guess- I’m sorry my Helen but I had to step in you to gain my spot here in Edenbrook thanks to my parents who are very powerful and influential people in Boston.”

“I-”

“I’m not finished,” her hardened gaze was evident and he knew he had to stop. “Or how you accepted without so much caring not one but two strange women in your bed while you were fucking drunk. That must’ve been a fruitful threesome huh? Why didn’t you try with a boy too? That would’ve been the cherry on top.” Her words were poisonous and she thought he deserved much worse than these. “Or how your mother has always tried to make me feel miserable in front of everyone when you did absolutely nothing to stop it. Not even moving your finger.”

In an unusual place, when you’re feeling far away

She does what the night does to the day

She was right about everything. He couldn’t disagree with any of the words she said. Helen Craig was rarely found to be wrong.

“I think that our conversation ends here Dr. Banner.”

He grabbed her elbow without thinking twice for his recklessness and made her narrow her eyes in annoyance. “Tonight at Donahue’s bar 9 o’clock and I will explain you everything.”

“Get off me or I’ll scream.” She warned dangerously.

“We both know you can’t.” Clay had no idea where this was leading but he could see the fire into her eyes. “You wouldn’t want people to find out that you had a boyfriend working here huh?”

Look at this prick starting to talk.

“Well well do you need a reminder that my father and my brother can make you beg for your life again?”

The last encounter with the Craig males was one year ago when they found out that this jerk had dumped the most precious thing of their family. Patrick Craig was the first to reach for the drawer to load his gun just in case whereas Brian her brother made sure to find Clay’s location with his advanced knowledge of technology. The end resulted in a bloody and a harsh fight between them and warning the latter to not come any centimeter closer to Helen. And the scar on his neck was still visible after that time.

“That happened once. It can’t happen again,” he grasped her out of his hand. “I’ll be waiting.”

With that he left the ultimatum settled in her hands and keeping it until 9 PM. Helen stayed still like someone had glued her in a position that she couldn’t escape.

She wouldn’t go.

No.

She wouldn’t hear him again and believe his words. But there was such a confidence in his voice that made her scared. Thanks to that she felt the anxiety rising up and panic for what was about to come.

She could easily cancel the plans with Dr. Ramsey and not go to that bar. But when she met him yesterday it felt something different with that share of eye contact.

Despite being half-drunk and exhausted from her flight he had made her forgetting all of her plans and the reason why she came in Boston. It was entirely a new world, a new dimension that she hadn’t explored yet and was eager to find more about this man.

It was unethical but did she care? Not in the slightest. Helen was ambitious and she definitely would possess it. She had to think of a plan how to sabotage this whole thing but how?

The choice she had to make was like a ticking bomb that in one way or another, was going to blast.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms, thunderstorms, thunderstorms

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TAGS WILL APPEAR IN A REBLOG!

[abacus-and-paper-money]

Bad Things Happen Bingo, Part I: Common Cold

Requested by: @crystalclocktower

Character: Anatole Kuragin

Pairing: (platonic) Anatole Kuragin & Helene Bezukhova

Rating: G

Summary: Anatole gets sick and is a dramatic bitch about it

--

Anatole had only one thought when he woke up.

Which was fuck.

He could tell he was sick before he even opened his eyes. His body was about a million pounds heavier than it was yesterday, his nose blocked, and his brow damp with sweat.

"This is not what I meant by 'Anatole is hot.'" He mumbled to himself, wiping the moisture from his forehead as he forced his aching body to sit up.

Might as well see what he was dealing with. With a tremendous amount of heroic effort, Anatole dragged himself out of bed, then immediately wished he hadn't when the floor started getting closer.

Thunk.

Contrary to what Anatole had hoped, the softness of his carpet did not prevent it from hurting like a bitch when he smacked his face straight into the floor. He groaned.

Swallowing his pride, and probably also some goopy sinus shit, Anatole surrendered to the helplessness of his current situation. He could not go on alone.

"Helene!" He called as loud as he could with a clogged nose and a dying throat. Which-- surprise, surprise-- was not very fucking loud. He clung to the hope that she was close.

"What do you wa-- jesus fucking christ," Helene's voice came from somewhere near his doorway. It was hard to know exactly where, as he couldn't see shit but carpet right now. "What's wrong with you?"

Anatole rolled over onto his back with more struggle than he thought was reasonable for the universe to demand of him. He could see his sister in this new, slightly less terrible position, standing over him and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I think I'm sick."

"No shit, Ani. you're a real genius."

"Just help me--" Anatole said. "Please, 'Lena? Help your sick little brother?" He tried to look as sad and weak as possible, which wasn't hard, because he was laying on the fucking floor with enough heat radiating off of him to keep a small house warm.

She sighed. "Fine. Relax your body so I can pick your stupid ass up."

Anatole probably couldn't have his muscles do anything other than relax right now, but he tried to get more floppy anyway. He closed his eyes, and released any tension still left in him. This way, he could ascend to being Relaxed².

Soon, Anatole had the familiar sensation of Helene scooping him up and into her arms, just like she'd done when they were children. Her labored breathing told him that it wasn't easy for her anymore, but his primary concern was just getting back to his bed. She could handle carrying him two steps.

Apparently she could also handle chucking his weakened, sick body like it was an empty can of pepsi and her name was Tara, because Anatole was suddenly midair.

Then he hit the mattress, and the impact broke all of his bones. His whole entire skeleton. Completely nerfed.

"Ow."

"Stop whining, you little bitch. Go back to sleep," Helene said, covering him with his blanket. "Let me know if you want anything when you wake up."

Anatole smiled. "You're an angel, 'Lena."

"You're delirious. Go to sleep."

"Okay. I love you."

"Shut up," Helene rolled her eyes, turning to go. Then she stopped, looked back to him, and sighed. "Fine. I love you too."

Contented, Anatole closed his eyes, and allowed himself to sink back into sleep as Helene's footsteps left the room.