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feralbutfluffy · 1 year ago

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33. Muriel

Chapter 33 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

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For thousands and thousands of years, Muriel’s existence had been a very proper, quiet, brightly lit, lonely sort of reality. Every once in a century (if they were lucky) someone stopped by to drop more paperwork on their desk or ask for a report, but the rest of the time it was just Muriel.

Muriel reading.

Muriel writing.

Muriel transcribing.

Muriel recording.

Muriel reading aloud (just to hear a voice, even if it was their own).

Muriel had found it - although they would obviously never be so impolite as to say it aloud - crushingly boring. The most exciting thing that had ever happened to Muriel before being lucky enough to be sent to Earth was finding an empty matchbox.

So the paradigm shift had been rather drastic.

Life on Earth was so changeable and exciting and strange and fun and frightening. Their experience of emotions, which for so long had pinged predictably between lonely and bored had expanded to catalogue dozens of feelings, some of which Muriel couldn’t even name.

Also, it seemed that thousands of years of repetitive tasks had worn smooth Muriel’s capacity for anticipation. In Heaven, Muriel had learned to expect the expected, which was much less disappointing than hoping to see a friendly face and then having to wait decades and decades for a face to materialise (and when it did, it was hardly ever what Muriel would call friendly).

By contrast, life on Earth was so unpredictable! For example, the previous Wednesday Muriel had had a wonderful day. It had flown by! Muriel had enjoyed spending time with the demon Crowley and arrived back at the bookshop feeling happy and relaxed.

By contrast, this day (also a Wednesday) had felt like it had been several weeks long and somehow it still wasn’t over.

Such a rollercoaster!

And far from the experience of being thrilled at the sight of a matchbox, now Muriel was closing out a day full of action and intrigue and violence and a daring rescue! And they held in their hand a notebook filled with experiences - real experiences - and not the experiences she had read about in non-fiction books, but closerwarmertighter experiences because these belonged to Aziraphale and Crowley, who Muriel knew better than she had ever known anybody.

Obviously that wasn’t saying much.

But still!

These same two were now staring at Muriel. Crowley was looking up at their face. Aziraphale’s eyes were fixed on the notebook, and although the day had taken its toll and he had looked quite pale ever since they had found Crowley, he now looked positively ashen.

“Where did you find that?”

“In a desk drawer?”

“And you read it? All of it?”

“No, of course not!”

“Ah. The first few entries?”

“Oh, no, I skipped to the bookmark!”

Aziraphale's eyes darted to Crowley and then back to the notebook.

“Muriel, that is pri -” His eyes flicked to Crowley again and his voice cracked into a higher register, “...precautionary notetaking!” He cleared his throat and his voice returned to almost-normal. “Nothing to concern yourself with, my dear. Just notes for my own records, for documentation’s sake.”

The high points of his cheeks had turned quite, quite pink.

Crowley’s expression - which had previously been one of detached interest - honed into one of sharp curiosity. Muriel fought the urge to smile. The two had seemed so serious before they had been interrupted, but now Aziraphale looked flustered, and Crowley had the ghost of a familiar expression on his wounded face; something sly and amused and considering.

Muriel turned to Aziraphale, wide-eyed and earnest. “Notetaking! Right! Of course! Well, you take really beautiful notes. And I would know, because I’m- well, I was a scrivener?” They smiled sweetly. “Your notes are extremely detailed and very… evocative!”

Aziraphale made a strangled sound.

Crowley stared.

Muriel grinned.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley spoke slowly. “Tell me you don’t keep a diary.”

“Look, I think we are getting rather off-topic. Let’s not get distracted with-”

“Muriel, read me some of these notes, would you?”

Aziraphale snatched the notebook from Muriel’s hand. “Absolutely not. We have more important things to be discussing than irrelevant notes from decades ago!”

“Decades ago,” repeated Crowley. “What year did you say Muriel? 1940?”

The gleam in his eye told Muriel he knew exactly what year, but they answered anyway.

“1941?”

Crowley’s tone was suspiciously casual. “Right, yes of course. The Blitz.”

“The… Blitz? I don’t think that was in it?” Muriel frowned. They were pretty sure they would have remembered such an interesting-sounding word?

An interesting redness was creeping up Aziraphale’s neck to join the pink in his cheeks.

“No mention of the Blitz.” The corner of Crowley’s lips curved upward. Muriel got the impression he was actually quite enjoying this. “That’s quite the omission.”

“I’m sure I mentioned it,” muttered Aziraphale, who suddenly seemed to realise he was nervously twisting the notebook in his hands. He flattened it out and placed it on a high shelf out of Muriel’s reach.

“Of course,” said Crowley soothingly. “Well Muriel, what was it you thought we should have told you about 1941 if not the Blitz?”

Aziraphale’s hands clamped down on Muriel’s shoulders and began to steer them away from Crowley with a muttered, “We absolutely do not have time for this!”

Muriel dug their heels into the floor and tried to crane around Aziraphale to look back at Crowley.

“It was about your- oh ow!”

Aziraphale’s fingertips were digging into their shoulders. “Muriel, I try to avoid violence where I can but today really has been extremely trying and if you say one more word, so help me-” Muriel felt a laugh bubble up-

They both caught sight of Saraqael at exactly the same time and fell instantly silent. Muriel’s laughter died in their throat.

The archangel looked at Aziraphale and pursed their lips.

“I feel I have been more than patient. Do you expect me to wait in the back room all night? You are supposed to be saying goodbye .”

The way they’d said saying goodbye gave Muriel a Very Bad Feeling.

Aziraphale’s fingers relaxed until they were simply resting on their shoulders in a way that felt comforting. He squeezed their right shoulder lightly before letting go.

“Yes. Of course. We should go.”

A startled hiss from Crowley then, who had shifted to turn his body towards Aziraphale. “You’re not going. Don’t even think about it.”

Saraqael approached, their face grave but not entirely unsympathetic. “You're too intelligent to be so wilfully obtuse. You know as well as anyone there is a reckoning still to come.”

“Fucking wait then until I’m able to join you-!”

“Retribution will not wait for you to return to good health, demon. If we wait, they will come for us.”

“So let them come,” he growled. “At least if they come I can do something.”

Saraqael tilted their head. “The same way you were able to do something when angels went around to your flat?”

Crowley jerked as if struck, and Muriel spoke without thinking. “That’s not very nice!”

“I’m only pointing out the obvious; he can’t come, and we can’t wait. You needn’t defend the demon, he can fight his own battles, Muriel.” They turned to contemplate his injuries. “...Or at least, he usually can.”

Crowley let out a harsh hiss of pain.

Sad.

Angry.

Sad.

Muriel frowned and moved in front of Crowley without really being aware of it.

“Obviously he doesn’t need me to defend him in a fair fight, I would probably be useless in a fight! But also nothing about today has been fair? And this whole day has been really, really horrible actually, and I definitely think now is not a good time to stick the boot in?”

There was a silence. Muriel turned to Aziraphale. “Did I say that properly?”

“Oh, ah, yes!” Aziraphale coughed lightly. “Yes, that’s very- that’s exactly right.”

Saraqael stared at Muriel for a long moment. “I suppose you have a point. Nothing about this has been fair. I have also not been fair,” they conceded, addressing Crowley. “Normally I’d consider you a formidable ally, but currently, as you well know, you’re nothing but a liability, and we can’t wait here any longer.” Then, their voice infinitesimally more gentle, “I know you know I'm right, Crowley.”

Some faint motion caught Muriel’s eye; Aziraphale’s fingers were playing with the hem of his jacket in small nervous movements. The way he was staring at Crowley was so full of yearning Muriel thought it must feel like a physical pull.

Crowley turned away from them all as much as he was able.

Aziraphale looked between Crowley and Muriel, uncertainty written all over his face, and they felt for the kindhearted angel. Muriel was very familiar with that quiet worry. They gave him an encouraging smile. “Well. I suppose we should take our leave. Crowley…?” Aziraphale bent on one knee and a hand hovered over Crowley’s shoulder as if afraid to make contact.

Crowley, face turned away, did not respond.

Aziraphale’s hand pressed lightly, tentatively to Crowley’s shoulder, and when he stood and faced Muriel his eyes were shining. “Muriel, I know you will take good care of him. Thank you.” He took Muriel’s right hand in both of his own. “I will make things right.” It sounded like an oath. His voice was bright and brittle as glass.

Then he walked to stand next to Saraqael, and Muriel blinked, and they were gone.

The room felt very empty. The only sound was the ticking of the clock. Muriel sat down at Crowley’s side, and he shifted slightly so that he was on his back again. Neither of them said anything for a very long time.

And if Muriel noticed tears on the demon’s face, they said nothing about it.

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velvethopewrites · 2 years ago

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This week’s fic is a one shot, and mostly (re: epically!) smutty (wink, wink) but no less worthy of your perusal. And just in case you were wondering, yes, I really do talk like I write (giant nerd, me? No! Well, yes).

Being Lead Home by someonetoanyone

Summary:

The table has gone quiet, and Dean’s already got a bad habit of forgetting that anyone else in the world exists when he’s got Cas’ focus like this. To him, the whole universe narrows down to the two of them, sat across from each other at the kitchen table, Oxford to boot, eye-to-eye.

“You’re gonna stay. Sam’s movin’ out, onto bigger and better things, yadda yadda, half-retired family man sorta shit, and you’re gonna stay here with me.”

___

Cas comes back.

This fic is self-indulgent and the author freely admits to it and good God, I absolutely love that. They’re just here putting out into the world the content they want to see and all I can say is, thank you, thank you, thank you! This fic is Dean with his head finally out of his ass - straight to the point - I want Cas and Cas wants me, let’s get with the program! and it is absolutely glorious! Huzzah. 🎉

And while yes, this is a smut-love-fest of biblical (heh) proportions, it is also emotional and so full of love for these two idiots that once you start reading you won’t want to stop. Sometimes a fic like this is exactly what we all need - not just for the lovely smuttiness of it - but because it just cuts to the chase of everything we want to see happen between Dean and Cas.

But, of course, there are real feelings here, have no fear. And the writing is top notch - damn near poetic, even. So evocative and emotional. You really feel it when Dean and Cas finally get to it - heart racing, blood pumping, oh yeah, this fic is IT.

*fans self*

I also really love the characterization of Cas and Dean, here, especially Cas. It feels so in character it almost hurts and I had no problem visualizing any of it. I wish all one-shots were this brilliant. I wish this one shot could be filmed. But, alas. Thank goodness we have fic, am I right? It doesn’t completely scratch that itch, but whooo-boy, does it help. Not to be horny on main or anything, but, lol, this fic is such a treat, seriously. I’ve read it three times now and it never fails to enchant me and draw me in. And my partner appreciates that when I jump on them, afterwards. Ahem. I leave you with my favorite line -

Separation does wonders for perspective; reunited like this, Dean can feel and see how his body gets so gentle as soon as Cas is in his field of vision, especially once they’re alone. His body opens up for Cas, unfolds like a blossom, like it knows something he’s never said out loud.

Sigh. Just beautiful. Give it a read this weekend!! Five out of Five Bees! 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

omg it’s FAN FICTION FRIDAY

Reblog and promote a fic of yours <3

#Fic rec #fan fiction friday #destiel #smutty love fest ftw #fan fic friday

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skepticbeliever-bookclub · 3 years ago

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Weeeeeelcome back!

For the second installment of our Spooky Month, this week we read the incredibly eerie In the Woods Somewhere by sequence_fairy!

Only 3.6K words, this tightly packed fic takes you on a journey that feels like it's so much longer. If you're looking for spookiness, tension, and some good old fashioned ghoul hunting, this fic hits all the right buttons, right up to the very end.

Rating: M

Summary: “I’m Ryan,” Ryan says, into the quiet. “This is Shane. We’d like to make contact with anyone still here and able to speak.”

Across the table, Shane shifts. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sing-songs. Ryan can’t help the way his mouth curves into a grin.

“I’m gonna open the floor,” Ryan says, after another moment of silence. “So, if anyone’s here who has something to say, now’s the time.”

“Yeah,” Shane agrees, “speak now or forever hold your peace.” Ryan kicks him under the table, but Shane chuckles, unrepentant.

Or: The house on Jackdaw Hill has a history, and Shane and Ryan get more than they bargained for.

Book Club Thoughts:

can i say that this fic is a fucking master class in evocative writing?? i could see it, i could feel it, i could very unfortunately get my ass metaphorically kicked by that ending.

[the author] did an incredible job at building the anticipation, lingering on faint details that set the tone and the broad reaches of the minutiae of a haunting story

These kinds of things make my chest hurt in a good way

No because psychological horror is so much more effective, and [the author's] writing absolutely portrayed that.

the great thing with fic is that it's always going to pack an additional emotional punch because you already care about the characters--but [the author] did an A+ job making me feel like...idk, protective?? like full-on "no, don't go in that room!" horror movie heckling

All the small silent ways that Shane shows his support for Ryan, that he's there and Ryan isn't alone, are beautiful.

it's all very very immersive stuff. Love the choices [the author] made for this one though

and the description of the server working one of those ancient credit card thingys. I like how lived-in stuff like that makes the story

reading it for the second time was really nice, because it still contained all of the tension that i had from the first time

YES. love the setting of the scene with some ominous weather

I was not expecting the ending to go the way it did and the way I GASPED

WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN US FOR OUR NEXT DISCUSSION? CHECK OUT THE FAQ, AND SEND US AN ASK! IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR FIC RECS, PLEASE CHECK OUT OUR READS, NOMINEES AND BOOK CLUB REC LISTS!

#read of the week #shyan #skeptic believer #otp: we took an oath #horror

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cappymightwrite · 4 years ago

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Customs, Chieftains & Countergifts

I'm currently writing up a deep dive chapter analysis of Jon XI, A Dance with Dragons, but wanted to post this section separately as a sort of preview, but also something to be enjoyed on its own (with some added visual aids). For all the medieval nerds out there...enjoy!

He slapped Jon’s back. “When all my folk are safe behind your Wall, we’ll share a bit o’ meat and mead. Till then…” The wildling pulled off the band from his left arm and tossed it at Jon, then did the same with its twin upon his right. “Your first payment. Had those from my father and him from his. Now they’re yours, you thieving black bastard.”

The armbands were old gold, solid and heavy, engraved with the ancient runes of the First Men. Tormund Giantsbane had worn them as long as Jon had known him; they had seemed as much a part of him as his beard. “The Braavosi will melt these down for the gold. That seems a shame. Perhaps you ought to keep them.” – ADWD, Jon XI

The exchange of arm-rings, or armbands, in medieval Germanic (notably Scandinavian/Nordic) cultures is hugely significant, and as a aspiring medievalist this interaction between Tormund and Jon really stood out to me. For some historical context:

Every ambitious chieftain faced the same problem: how was he to recruit and keep warriors in his retinue? His retainers, not simple mercenaries that fought for wages, were free men whose sense of honour would not have tolerated that kind of venal relationship. Instead, a chieftain needed to engage his warriors in close personal relationships. If they were not biological kin, they might create kinship through, for example, rituals of brotherhood, marriage alliances, and friendship formalised by drinking together in the chieftain's hall. Whatever their relationship, it was constantly reasserted through the exchange of gifts. It was their relationship with their chieftain that made warriors willing and eager to fight for him. [...] Appropriate gifts in a gift-giving relationship needed to be prestigious, which caused many chieftains to focus some of their energies on acquiring prestigious goods specifically rather than wealth in general. When the warrior recieved a gift of something valuable and prestigious from his chieftain, he was required to give a countergift. His first countergift was loyalty, unto death if necessary. This is how relationships of power were created in a society without states; rather than being obliged to perform military duty for his king (as in a full-fledged state), the warrior was persuaded with gifts to voluntarily perform that duty for his chieftain. The asymmetry of this interchange, with the chieftain giving more valuable gifts than the warrior, was an expression of the structure of political power: the more exclusive the gift, the higher the esteem of the giver, and the more power concentrated in him. – Anders Winroth, The Conversion of Scandinavia

The importance of this type of exchange is notably highlighted in certain passages from the Old English poem Beowulf:

Here is Seamus Heaney's translation of the same lines:

The above is just one example, but it illustrates how it was an honour to be gifted a ring/armband by a chieftain, and Tormund, we shouldn't forget, is a kind of Wildling chieftain. He is introduced to Jon by Mance as "the Mead-king of Ruddy Hall [...] Father of Hosts," (ASOS, Jon I), which connects to the significance of the chieftain's hall and the ritual of drinking in that hall to cement kinship bonds.

With Tormund and Jon, despite the former's earlier provocations, we see his real respect for Jon shine through here, initially by essentially inviting him to drink in his hall, or at least together:

“When all my folk are safe behind your Wall, we’ll share a bit o’ meat and mead. Till then…” – ADWD, Jon XI

This may seem like a small thing, but to the cultures which Tormund and the Free Folk play off of, this is a significant gesture, as noted above by Winroth. Furthermore, he makes clear the importance of his gift-giving by mentioning the armbands' prestigious history: "had those from my father and him from his." They are also materially valuable: "the armbands were old gold, solid and heavy, engraved with the ancient runes of the First Men."

The visual description of the armbands is very evocative of actual Viking era arm-rings that have been excavated, for instance, this gold one which has been recently found in the Isle of Man, which dates back to 950AD:

This plaited technique — probably more achievable in gold due to its relative softness/malleability — is reminiscent of other finds from around the same period (876-950AD), such as this one currently held at the British Museum:

As far as I can tell, however, runic inscriptions on arm-rings/armbands aren't really a thing, though you do see a variety of different kinds of engravings (the below date from the 10thC–11thC):

Of course, GRRM is just trying to evoke this kind of culture through his inclusion of "ancient runes of the First Men," rather than aim for exact accuracy, and we do see runic inscriptions on personal objects and some items of dress from the Viking period — often to denote ownership. However, in the below examples at least (a bone comb case and bossed penannular brooch), they seem more like later additions, rather than part of the original design:

But back to Tormund and Jon's exchange!

The armbands' prestige and value cannot be dismissed, and even though they are meant as "payment", Jon's acknowledgement of this significant gesture is reflected in his returning them. In fact, you could argue that his return of them is his "countergift" to Tormund, as well as the cementing of loyalty and trust between the two of them.

“The Braavosi will melt these down for the gold. That seems a shame. Perhaps you ought to keep them.” – ADWD, Jon XI

So, this little moment really plays on the dynamic between chieftain and retainer in a very interesting way. Indeed, we sort of see Jon take on the role of gift-giver himself, as he returns that same honour and respect to Tormund. Whereas Winroth describes the asymmetry of the interchange between chieftain and retainer, for Tormund and Jon there is symmetry, there is mutual standing; they are equals.

This is just such a beautiful, yet subtle, cultural exchange that is actually so meaningful. It really highlights Jon's strength of character and his respect and understanding of the Free Folk culture:

Tormund Giantsbane had worn them as long as Jon had known him; they had seemed as much a part of him as his beard. – ADWD, Jon XI

He understands how intrinsic this item of dress is to the Free Folk and to Tormund especially, how emotionally weighted they are, which is why he does not want to see them destroyed and diminished by being melted down for their gold. This stands in almost direct contrast to how Dany views the Meereenese tokar:

Dany had wanted to ban the tokar when she took Meereen, but her advisors had convinced her otherwise. "The Mother of Dragons must don the tokar or be forever hated," warned the Green Grace, Galazza Galare. "In the wools of Westeros or a gown of Myrish lace, Your Radiance shall forever remain a stranger amongst us, a grotesque outlander, a barbarian conqueror. Meereen's queen must be a lady of Old Ghis." Brown Ben Plumm, the captain of the Second Sons, had put it more succinctly. "Man wants to be the king o' the rabbits, he best wear a pair o' floppy ears." – ADWD, Daenerys I

Though to give Dany her due, the tokar is a far more restrictive and difficult item of dress to wear than a Free Folk armband, and Jon is also not being given Tormund's to wear precisely. Nevertheless, she fails to truly acknowledge the symbolism and cultural importance of the tokar. It is actually quite an offensive act to want to ban them, simply because you do not appreciate them aesthetically. It is a good thing that she takes on the advice of others and does wear it, but it is a concession on her part, not really anything deeper than that. It also doesn't exactly help things that the tokar continues to be referred to as the "floppy ears" by Dany from then on. It shows a lack of respect.

Jon continues his exchange with Tormund by not just showing respect to his culture, but by also sympathising with the loss of his two sons: Dormund and Torwynd. This moment between them was already bestowed with emotional meaning through the offer and return of the armbands. That could have been the end of it, yet Jon extends his understanding further to comfort a grieving father.

^ There you have it, just some stuff I found especially interesting in that interaction between Jon and Tormund — how it evokes a period of history and culture that I'm quite familiar with, as well as how it contrasts to Dany's own cultural confrontations in Meereen.

#jon snow #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #a dance with dragons #tormund giantsbane #anti daenerys #except it's not #it is daenerys critical #but just in case anyone takes offence #fun fact: i've had some (zoom) seminars with Anders Winroth #cappy's thoughts #cultural exchanges #wildling culture #anti daenerys targaryen #(but I'm not! I'm just reading critically)

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fictionissocialinquiry · 4 years ago

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FISI’s Favourite Zutara Fics

A lil late for ZFAW’s Saturday prompt, sorry about that! Haven’t had any internet over the weekend. But better late than never!

I’m not gonna lie… a lot of these are angsty af. But I promise you they’re not gratuitous angst! They’re well written, beautiful stories that will make you feel like a better person for having read them. These are my favourite all time fics, ones I’ve read more than once and will continue to read (even though I’m taking a week break from fandom and fic).

Multi-Chaptered Fics

The Sparrowkeet Series by audreyii_fic

To be honest, this story’s summary doesn’t do it justice so I ain’t including it. Originally a one shot, Sparrowkeet is headcanon for me now. Move over canon, this is where it’s at. Audreyii_fic’s characterisation, world building, and writing is exquisite. It’s incredible. She manages to channel the same fun and whimsical energy from the show while allowing the characters to grow and develop to places I wish they had actually been taken.

This one is a fandom Must Read and one I return to regularly.

Clothe Me in Seasons, Dress Me in Snow by sadladybug

It is not the memorial she deserves, nor the one she would want. But it can't be helped. He owns no property in the other nations, and he needed to keep her close. Closer than she was in life, anyway.

Zuko's reflections on a life lived and a life that could have been.

This is one of the best written fics I’ve ever read. It’s tragic and deep and will hurt you in all the tender places but you would be doing yourself a favour if you read this. There’s a real bittersweet feeling to it and the love between them is just… urg, visceral.

Lovable by LadyCharity

Zuko knew that he could not save Azula. He could only try to forgive her. Fittingly enough, those two were one in the same.

I love stories that make Zutara their centerpiece but every now but then a story like this comes along. A story where their relationship builds almost incidentally because the plot and character development straight up hijack your emotions. I got so invested in this story. Zuko is amazingly well characterised and his complicated thoughts and feelings around his father and Azula are incredibly well written!

One Shots

Lunar Ephemerality by @formerlygoldilocks (goldilocks23)

After multiple failed attempts on his life and years of self-set expectations, Fire Lord Zuko is a shell of the man he used to be. But Katara won't turn her back on those who need her.

I really didn’t expect this to hit as hard as it did. This straight up snuck up on me, fly-kicked my feelings, and by the end I had written an 800 word comment that was too big for AO3 and I had to contact the author directly to send it to her. Awkward. I couldn’t help myself. The side to Katara we see here is so good, her empathy and love for her friends are one of the things I love seeing most in AtLA fanfic. I’m a sucker for Zuko having complete breakdowns and having to piece himself back together too. So sue me. I like it when they suffer a lil bit. The writing is absurdly good and I will be keeping an eye out for any new stories by goldilocks23!

31 Minutes by @ifyouwereamelodymeg

It's quite astounding, really, how quickly she's learned to translate him. They've spent a grand total of zero time together outside of training, and he's hardly big on chat so she knows next to nothing about his life.

But she knows him, probably better than she knows anyone at the moment – with every tap of his fingers, every crook of his lips, every turn in his voice, he just...

He makes sense to her. It's weird.

I’m a sucker for fic writers playing with style to make the story pop and boyo does this fic deliver. This is one of the rare times that I’ve been dumbstruck at the end of a story— I just couldn’t accept the ending. Because I’m a sucker for pain, (and this story will bring The Pain) I loved it. The ease of Zuko and Katara’s growing relationship in this bowls you over, it’s absolutely beautiful and you find yourself nodding along emphatically when Zuko calls himself an idiot for waiting… “Life’s short, kids, live each moment as though it could be your last,” says this fic as it pulls my heart out and dropkicks it off a cliff.

i count to five (and life passes by) by @markedmage

Five heartbeats.

I still haven’t forgiven Mage for this one. I think it’s the best thing she’s written to date! I mean, tragic and painful and heart-rending but holy shit is it powerful <3

The Lake of the Dismal Swamp by @thewhiitelotus

Spook af. Spook (horror) is real hard to do well but thewhiitelotus is coming for your goosebumps and those shivers down your spine. She has a way of balancing beautiful, evocative imagery with action (in this and other stories of her) that just keeps you reading!

Calloused by @rideboldlyride

Iroh hadn’t been able to watch. The pure horror of a man - a father- burning their child for a slight infraction... He couldn’t do anything to stop it, but he will stop his brother from destroying entirely the kind boy he knew Zuko could be.

This is a painfully underappreciated fic for how great the characterisation is. I know we in the zutara fandom tend to not read stories that aren’t Zuko/Katara centric as often but do yourself the favour of reading this (or listening to it: RideBoldlyRide has done us the gift of recording a podfic for this and it’s stupidly *good*). This story is Iroh confronting Ozai just after he burns Zuko’s face and it kicks.

four days and three nights by @hinaoyamas (lettersfromnowhere)

Zuko discovers firsthand that nothing is more fleeting than happiness, or more enduring than memory.

Do you like reading stories with a distant, omniscient narrator? The kind that read like a myth from the ancient world? Welp, hit the hyperlink, friend, cause this one’s for you. Not only is the writing exquisite but the characterisation and painful inevitability of the plot is grade A.

For the Fire Nation by tullyblue12

He falls in love with her for his country before he falls in love with her for himself. A Zuko/Katara AU that explores how love and duty aren’t always mutually exclusive.

There are about 40,000 exquisite lines in this story but here is just one of my favourites: “He falls in love with her for his country first. That’s what his people never understand.” This fic says a lot with so few words, which is something I really look up to! In 2,800 words, tullyblue12 does what some 100,000k fics cant: They make you feel.

Guide Me Home by Rashaka

To sleep, perchance to dream. Katara and Zuko find a friendship they never expected in a place that seemed impossible.

This is a one shot I will forever wish for a continuation of. The setup is just… so juicy. There’s a real sorrowful innocence to this story that the unique short, dialogue only scenes really punch home. I know some people don’t like dialogue only fics but when done well like in this one, it leaves you with the impression of something deeper than a 1,185 word fic has any right to!

Other Favourites!

Hopeless by tullyblue12 — Kids grow up fast when a cruel world awaits them. In times of hopelessness, Katara and Zuko grow together. In times of separation, they hope to see each other again.

Speechless by goldilocks23 — Zuko has a medical condition. Or: Zuko speaks in haiku at inappropriate times.

Don’t Follow Me Down by eleventy7 — Katara is the dread queen of the underworld, ruler of the dead, destined to reign her cold kingdom alone. Until a sun god catches her eye. A Hades/Persephone retelling with incredible writing.

I Don't Speak Meow Language by @botherkupo (Boogum) — In which Zuko adopts a cat and Katara just wonders what spirits she pissed off to deserve this fate.

I have the privilege of being friends with some of these authors (they know who they are) and am in near daily awe and gratitude for the works of free fiction they provide us, the fandom. And not just any old stories: Guys... Really good ones!! Can I ask that if you go check out these fics, can you just drop a kudos or a comment their way? If you’re feeling shy just copy and paste this into the comments box anonymously: “WOW! Loved this! Thank you so much for writing it!”

I know it would mean the world to this talented bunch <3

#ZFAW #Fic Rec #favourite zutara fanfics of all time #zutara #atla

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ladyartemesia · 5 years ago

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Fic recs for taehyung? I love your stuff btw I’ve read them all uwu

As a beacon of extra-ness in an already extra world, I am entirely incapable of just recommending fics like a normal blog. No. I’ve got to wax on like a bloomin connoisseur. I have compiled some (but not all) of my favorite works in several different categories and sorted them accordingly. This crazy list is so long I had to add a “keep reading”... but I simply couldn’t bear to leave any of these off the list. They are all so good!

Fics have been divided into 8 categories. Some are under the cut.

▨ FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS and FRIENDS TO LOVERS ▨ ▨ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ▨ ▨ FANTASY ▨ ▨ ANGST WITH A HAPPY ENDING ▨ ▨ HYBRID and ABO (alpha/omega) ▨ ▨ MULTIPLE PARTNERS ▨ ▨ NEIGHBORS AND ROOMMATES ▨ ▨ TABOO THEMES and DARK FIC (Sex Work/Power Imbalance/Very Unsafe Sex) ▨ ▨

▨ FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS and FRIENDS TO LOVERS ▨

Insomnia by @hobiwonder

This is one of those fics I read and literally could not stop thinking about. It is wildly hot and honestly hilarious. Poor reader cannot sleep and the beautiful bro she’s tutoring offers a rather unconventional solution.

(Ego) Hoe Chronicles: KTH by @suga-kookiemonster

Listen. If you find a niche fan blog devoted entirely to Ego Tae... I’m not gonna say it’s mine. But it’s probably mine. I once told suga-kookiemonster that I would literally read a story about Ego Tae going grocery shopping on a Wednesday night and I stand by that. In this lurid romp, the reader falls into the clutches of everyone’s favorite bohemian sex lord and he rails her into another dimension.

Falling, Falling, Gone by @johobi

Pining (mutual or otherwise) is not really my thing, but I would straight up read Jo’s laundry list if she posted it. As usual I was blown away by how everything she does seems somehow better than any other version of it. This reader is really unique as well, and her relationship with the wildly popular soccer star Tae comes to a sexy and hilarious head at a sort of bachelor auction. With sharp dialogue, delightful subtext, and fantastic side characters, you really shouldn’t miss it. It’s pretty much perfect.

A Friendly Favor by @baeseoul

This is the classic “teach me some sex for another woman” trope and it is done so well. Sweet best friend Tae is looking to benefit from your experience, but his is not the only world about to be thouroughly rocked.

Officer Kim and the Criminal Crush by @ddaengyoonmin

This is one of the best twists on childhood friends to lovers I have ever seen. Tae grows up to become a cop and reader grows up to be a societal menace. I won’t spoil it, but it’s the perfect blend of nostalgia, tenderness, and smut. This fic technically doesn’t have a name so I had to give it one to link it. It’s part of an AMAZING series Zoe did that I also highly recommend.

Out of the Blue by @jimlingss

This is one of those stories that blooms throughout the narrative until you are left with this gorgeous flower at the end. I loved the journey of these two characters. It was real and it perfectly captures the experience of finding your soulmate in the person you least expect.

Sin Pijama by @brilliantlybasicb

This fic is a switch culture fic. It is wild wicked hot and this Tae is unreal. I love the way he lets the reader think she is in control just long enough. It is a wild romp with an adorable sequel and honestly you should read it.

Girls Like You by @jjiminah

I was in jjiminah’s asks IMMEDIATELY about this fic because I had FEELINGS. The reader begins wordlessly teasing and tempting Tae on their morning bus ride every day until he is literally losing his mind. Everything that follows is fire. Jjiminah has hinted she will wrote more for these two and I NEED IT.

Sighs and Sonnets by @btsaudge

This fic is beautiful. Like it’s basically art. This is a bad boy who is bad for you. But he has the soul of a poet and the stroke game of a renaissance master. Bittersweet and seductive, this fic is a full experience.

The Text by @taetaesbaebaepsae

Tae is your friend with benefits but it looks like feeling may have been caught by one or more parties. When you attempt to soothe your aching heart with another pretty boy, Tae decides to stake his claim. This was very sexy. The whole fic was sexy.

▨ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ▨

Monster by @neonlights92

Monster and all of its companion series about each of the boys is one of those fics that I reread constantly and also just think about constantly. This is one of the best mafia AUs out there and it’s characters are vivid and unforgettable. Tae’s stubborn resistance to his lovely new wife in contrast with her quiet, clever strength really brings this story to life. A word of warning. The masterlist links are a bit messed up. To read part two you must click on part three. And to read part three must click on part four. The link to part four is at the bottom of part three (or you can just search it on her site. It is definitely all there though).

Dichotomy by @kpopfanfictrash

There is a reason the incomparable Shanna is on this list three times. She is truly incomparable. This is childhood friends-to enemies-to spouses and it is wonderful. I adore this Tae. He is sharp and vulnerable and occasionally heavy handed, but truly a gem. This fic also features one of the best angry sex scenes I’ve ever run my eyeballs across.

▨ FANTASY ▨

Chism by @kpopfanfictrash

The world-building in this story is genuinely awe inspiring. You could write series upon series within this vivid universe. The god of Winter is missing and Summer’s heat burns unchecked for many years. The reader is a warrior with a unique ability tasked with guarding a very interesting prisoner. This story is so good. I mean it is really bloomin incredible. It’s hard to say what I liked best about it, because it was stellar across the board.

Obsidian by @kpopfanfictrash

In the pantheon of delicious Tae incarnations, Obsidian Taehyung is essentially unrivaled as a grey witch who moonlights as a sexy rock star. His extremely erotic clash with a white witch detective plays out as the two of them track down a sinister killer (with the help of some truly memorable side characters).

Out of this World by @ddaengyoonmin

This one is really unique. Tae is a merman scientist on the water planet of Neptune and when the reader and her misguided crew crash into his sea, he takes it upon himself to improve inter-species relations. This fic features excellent world building alongside several twists and surprises. Clever scientist Tae is downright irresistible.

▨ ANGST WITH A HAPPY ENDING ▨

Picking Flowers by @jamaisjoons

So this story is a journey - truly a beautiful one and it’s a gorgeous addition to the hanahaki genre. There is real pain and I cried real tears, but gosh it was so sexy and so worth it. I was surprised by how truly immersed I ended up in this piece. I lost track of everything else. The end is insanely satisfying, but the journey is really what makes this fic unmissable.

Until Yesterday by @jimlingss

This fic destroyed me slowly then slowly put me together again piece by piece. When I say I went through it - I WENT THROUGH IT. The story is loosely based on the movie “The Vow” and it is just fantastic. Beautiful and tender till the last word.

The Foolish Muse by @bibbykins

This is the story of someone who is deeply in love, but knows they deserve better. It is a sexy and evocative work with allusions to mythology that fit seamlessly into the narrative. I think my favorite part is Tae discovering how much the reader meant to him and what choices ultimately lead them to a really delicious conclusion.

Back to You by @ladyartemesia

The last time I did a fic rec list, it got like 700 notes. Ya girl is not makin the same mistake again. I spent hours on this list. My work is comin along for the ride. Kim Taehyung is the love of your life, until one day he disappears without a trace.

Vacancy by @ppersonna

This one is the only idol AU on the list and I normally don’t read those, but Lindy’s work is too good to miss in any setting. I am thrilled I took a look because what I found was a glimpse into a beautiful relationship that weathers and eventually overcomes the challenges of loving in the limelight. There is a LOT of emotional depth and symbolism which really elevates everything about this lovely story. The reader’s internal struggles in the face of her lover’s fame are extremely well done.

▨ HYBRID and ABO ▨ (alpha/omega)

Eye of the Tiger by @opaljm

I am beyond hype about this story which is (very) loosely inspired by Zootopia and features a cocky tiger Taehyung and a fiesty prey hybrid he needs to fake date in order to keep panther Jimin from murdering him. (Tiger Tae got a tad too frisky around Jimin’s mate and now things are dangerously awkward.) This story is already so freakin good. I cannot wait for the rest.

Silver and Blue by @taetaewonderland

What happens when you get on the wrong side of the right werewolf? Very sexy - very crazy times. Chronologically this is the first of the Silver and Blue series which follows barely civilized were-Tae through his courtship and eventually his relationship with the spunky reader. Holla to all my impreg kink homies. This is the fic for you.

Heat Run by @ladyartemesia

As I said before, the last time I did a fic rec list, it got like 700 notes. Ya girl is not makin the same mistake twice. I spent hours on this list. My work is comin along for the ride. Alpha lawyer V is a man of many secrets, but his well ordered reality spirals wildly out of control when he crosses paths with a fiery omega set on saving the world from his wicked ways.

Beautiful Stranger by @interludemoonchild

This was a wild ride from start to finish. Taehyung is a tiger hybrid shifter who escapes from the circus to be close to a veterinary student he bonded with. There is a lot of interesting twists and surprises in this one. I was definitely screaming at the end.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell by @jingabitch

A very young wolf hybrid Taehyung adopts you as his pet human when you are just a kid. After Tae leaves to serve in the military he returns to an adult version of his sweet little princess and chaos ensues. Mind the tags for this one folks. It’s excellent, but there are very triggering themes throughout.

▨ MULTIPLE PARTNERS ▨

Level of Restraint by @lemonjoonah

This is not strictly a Tae fic in that he is only one of three major players in this twisted masterpiece. Lemon is the undisputed queen of the surprise twist and this one is truly brilliant. People dropped this fic in the discord calling it the best fan fiction they had ever read and I am not here to argue with them at all. Fair warning, every word - every inch of this fic is sexy and it’s delicious brand of titillation is wrapped around your psyche good and tight by the end.

Four by @luxekook

The quadruplets next door are fueling your very lurid fantasies. It turns out they have some fantasies of their own... You will need water if you read this fic. This is the original patented Kim Taehyung Horny Hive Mind 4D Experience™

▨ NEIGHBORS AND ROOMMATES ▨

The Heat Wave Series by @curly-bangtan

The original story (chapter 1) in this series is definitely famous, but I don’t know how many people have read all 9 chapters and if you haven’t, you are really missing the incredible journey of two very horny idiots stumbling recklessly towards real and amazing love. Everything is set off when the air conditioner breaks and a pair of wild roommates shed their inhibitions along with their clothes.

Flicker by @chimoona

So this fic started out with adorable neighbor dynamics and ended with erotic rope tying. Baby I was ABOUT IT. This was so bloomin hot and also like sweet and tender. Really a sexy and sentimental treasure.

Not Your Typical Flower Shop Story by @jungtaeyoongles

This story goes from “aww” to “WHAT THE-” real quick. Fast paced plot and twist after twist turn the whole flower shop au upside down and then inside out. I can’t say more because spoilers but like - WOW.

▨ TABOO THEMES and DARK FIC ▨ (Sex Work/Power Imbalance/Very Unsafe Sex)

Extracurricular by @ppersonna

One of my favorite professor-student AUs. The reader writes her gorgeous professor a borderline erotic analysis of several major works of art and he feels compelled to discuss it with her privately. Lindy really outdid herself on this one. It is scorchin. Professor Tae is actually really sweet and somehow that just makes the whole thing hotter.

Akrasia by @nitaescence

This is insanely hot. Emphasis on the insane because it’s basically a super erotic romp where you have sex with a man you don’t know (Taehyung) on a crowded public bus. I literally felt my blood pressure going up the longer I read. Whew.

The Client by @jungkookiebus

This one hit me right in the feels. Taehyung is a sweet and lonely man who has a standing Wednesday appointment with an upscale sex worker. As the story progresses, feelings become involved on both sides. When I say I am checking her page thrice daily for part three... This is so engrossing. And this Tae. I just want to hold him.

Daffodil Dreams by @sombreboy

Tread carefully ladies and gents. This story is excellent, but it is easily the darkest fic on the list and, if you choose to read it, please read the trigger warnings carefully. The reader is a psychologist called in to analyze a very dangerous criminal. As their sessions progress, however, several boundaries are crossed.

Obey by @jjkfire

Taehyung is the most feared and ruthless member of the local mafia and you are the world’s most inept escort. You needed a job, but had no real interest in sex work and you’ve managed to fly under the radar as a glorified waitress until Kim Taehyung himself walks into your agency and decides that you’re the only girl he wants. Oh my gosh I loved this story so much. It was downright amazing and there is a surprise at the end that makes everything even sweeter.

#kim taehyung #bts #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehung fanfiction #viola recommends #fic recs #I CANNOT BELIEVE TUMBLR FORMATTED MY POST SO MY BANNER IS HIDDEN I WANT TO LITERALLY CRY #TUMBLR we are FIGHTING oh my gosh

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quickspinner · 4 years ago

Text

Month of Miracles Day 5 - Decoration

Find the prompt list here!

I have meddled with powers I did not fully understand and now the Hallmark AU has gripped me. I think you can expect to see more of this sprinkled throughout the month. Oh, well. Multiparters in prompt months are like a tradition for me now, right?

Hallmark Movie AU

Imagine, Marinette thought as she helped Rose unpack the decorations and ornaments to go on the tree, Luke Stone in a town like this.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t heard of him releasing anything new recently. So he was from this town, then? He must be on vacation, visiting his family and helping out at the farm. Taking a break, maybe writing some new songs. Funny, to think of the glammed up, heavily bedazzled rock star wearing flannel and working on a Christmas tree farm.

Marinette had winced the day before, watching him tear up his palms hauling the tree she’d picked out yesterday and tie it down deftly with fingers that had to be worth millions of dollars. It pained her to think of the hands that had created such beautiful music being abused in such a way. Surely he should have been wearing gloves, at least. He’d been so cold to her, though, that Marinette hadn’t dared suggest it or question him.

She’d been skeptical when Jagged Stone’s son had made his debut on tour alongside his father. She’d been a longtime fan of the older Stone and didn’t think even his own flesh and blood would be able to match him—but the younger Stone hadn’t tried. Luke’s music was clearly influenced by his father, but was also entirely his own, but so evocative, so emotional, she had been pulled in despite her reservations. She owned every one of Luke Stone’s albums, including the special edition greatest hits album, which she had bought even as she complained to Alya that he was too young in his career to be releasing a greatest hits album.

Marinette hadn’t said much to Rose about the encounter, not sure whether it was common knowledge amongst the town that he was here, and not wanting to infringe on his privacy if it wasn’t. Rose had given her a funny (disappointed?) look when she mentioned the grumpy young man that had helped her, but hadn’t said anything about it, just asked Marinette to come back today and give her a hand decorating the tree after the maintenance staff got it set up.

It wasn’t as if Marinette had much else to do, and Gina’s house felt huge and empty with just her in it, so she’d agreed, and here she was unpacking dusty boxes that had been hauled out of storage. She sighed as she surveyed the contents. The boxes looked like they’d been packed up by unsupervised five-year-olds last year.

She was sorting the decorations into piles, still absently pondering the mystery of Luke Stone, when the library doors slid open, and the man himself walked in. He was dressed much the same as he had been yesterday, in layers that hid the muscular shoulders and arms he displayed on stage. Before Marinette could react, Rose flitted past her.

“Luka!” Rose squealed, throwing herself at him. “You’re here!” Luka staggered slightly but wrapped one arm around her waist to catch her, holding her with her feet dangling off the ground as she kissed both his cheeks, her arms wrapped around his neck. Marinette stared, mouth hanging open slightly.

“That was enthusiastic,” Luka laughed, looking down at the petite blond hanging off of his tall frame.

“I’m happy to see you!” Rose smiled brightly.

“You just saw me at dinner last night.” Luka bent his knees and set her on the ground. Rose took the hint and let him go, but bounced on the balls of her feet. “And I told you I’d come, he added.”

“And now you’re here!” Rose threw out her arms. “I’m so glad! I have so much to do to get the childrens’ program ready and the decorations are so much for poor Marinette to manage by herself! Have you met Marinette?” she inquired, turning and holding out her arms to present her friend. Marinette closed her mouth and tried to smile as she gave a little wave. “I think you did,” Rose continued, turning to give him a warning look. “I think she said she ran into you at the farm.”

Luka felt embarrassment creeping up his neck at Rose’s clearly scolding look. He nodded at Marinette. “Briefly, yeah. Nice to see you, Marinette.” He pronounced her name carefully, feeling bad about teasing her yesterday. She smiled a little more, and then looked down, her hands fluttering around the decorations she’d been separating.

“You can get the lights on the tree while Marinette finishes working out that stuff,” Rose suggested, pointing to a pile of lights sitting near Marinette. “You’re nice and tall, so that should make things easy. There’s step stools in the kids’ area if you need them. Come here and I’ll show you what I want.” She hooked his arm and pulled him around to the far side of the tree. “The plug’s over here, so you’ll need to start on this side.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Rose slapped his arm. “Dummy!” she scolded in a whisper. “I didn’t send her to the farm so you could be mean.”

“I wasn’t mean,” Luka protested weakly, and then frowned. “What do you mean, you sent her?” He gave his not-quite-sister a suspicious look, and then leaned slightly to look around the tree and make sure they were out of earshot.

He paused. Marinette had been cute yesterday in her puffy pink coat and earmuffs, but he hadn’t really had time to notice her. Now she looked trendy but comfortable in pigtails and a soft pink sweater over skinny jeans, her profile turned to him. She was an authentic kind of pretty, he reflected, but then Luka had found himself thinking that about a lot of people since he’d left the rock star world, where everybody wore layers of stage makeup, styled and coiffed and dressed so that every detail about them enhanced the image they wanted to project.

Still, her full lips made a pretty bow, especially when she pouted them slightly in concentration, and her hair had a shine that came from health rather than product, and her eyes were—

Rose’s elbow in his ribs jolted him out of what must have been a pretty intense stare, and he flushed, leaning back slightly so he couldn’t see Marinette on the other side of the tree.

“She already thinks you’re mean,” Rose hissed. “Don’t be a creep on top of it.”

Luka winced. He didn’t need Rose’s reminder to feel guilty for behaving so abruptly yesterday. Already prickly from a morning of needling by his mother, he hadn’t been prepared for anyone to recognize him. No one had up until this point, and he’d thought he was safe. It was an unpleasant shock to have a stranger recognize him, especially someone from the city who might carry word of his presence here back to the press. His mother’s call had sounded like his guardian angel’s trumpet in that moment. When Juleka had called him to help tie her chosen tree on top of her car, he’d done the work quickly and silently, and avoided her gaze as much as possible.

He’d felt bad about it later, when he’d had time to relax and reflect, but he hadn’t expected to see her again—certainly hadn’t expected to have Rose practically throwing her at him. He gave her a warning look.

Rose opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Marinette popped around the side of the tree. “Rose, do you have some scissors anywhere?”

“Yes, in the cabinet behind the desk,” Rose said, pointing. “Probably on the top three shelves, there’s a box of craft supplies there. You might as well bring over the whole thing in case you need anything else. Let me know if it’s too high up and I’ll send Luka to grab them instead.”

“Got it,” Marinette smiled, and turned to follow Rose’s directions.

Luka shot Rose a glare. “Quit it,” he warned.

“Quit what?” Rose inquired, with a blink and head tilt that made her look like she didn’t have two brain cells to rub together.

Luka knew better.

“I don’t need any help, Rose,” Luka muttered, folding his arms. “I could find a relationship on my own if I wanted to.”

“Mmhm,” Rose hummed in a disbelieving tone. “Because there’s so many to choose from here in this little town.”

Luka rolled his eyes and didn’t reply.

“I do like Marinette though,” Rose said, and smiled innocently when Luka gave her a look. “She’s really sweet. We only met a couple of days ago and here she is, bending over backward to get me a real tree and spending her time decorating it.”

“You set her up,” Luka accused, peeking around the tree briefly to make sure she wasn’t coming back yet. “You’re trying to set me up.”

“She’s so creative,” Rose sighed. “She showed me some of her portfolio the other day, and it’s fantastic. She’s a fashion designer, you see.”

Luka snorted. “Oh, yeah, she’ll totally fall for me. Without my stylist I’m a fashion disaster and you know it Rose.”

“That just makes you a challenge,” Rose chirped, and then softened a little as she looked at him. “Look, I know you’re not looking right now, but that’s a stupid attitude to have when an amazing person just drops into your lap.” She tossed her head in a move he was sure she’d picked up from Juleka, though it was less effective without Juleka’s mane to accent it. “I should know. Anyway, do what you want, I just think she’s neat and I wanted you to meet her. I’ve got a good feeling about her. If I’d met her two years ago I’d totally steal her from you. If you’re smart, you’ll keep an open mind.”

Luka sighed, but he saw a flicker of pink and when he glanced around the tree again, Marinette was back, the box of supplies at her side. She was lifting a large tinsel garland from the box she’d just opened, only to find it was all a tangled mass. There was a sort of mournful look on her face, a little droop of sadness, maybe even loneliness, to her shoulders. He remembered the tightness in her eyes and around her mouth yesterday, and the way she’d spilled out her reason for being here at the slightest nudge. A fashion designer—that was a cutthroat business, especially in the city. Poor thing was probably as tired and strung out as he’d been when he came home.

He wasn’t even aware he’d sighed until Rose giggled at his elbow. “I think you can figure the lights out on your own,” she said with a little pat to his arm. “I’m going to get back to getting ready for the children’s program. You two just...have fun, okay? Make it festive!” She fluttered her hands at the tree, then waved at Marinette and abandoned him to the awkwardness.

It didn’t take long to get the lights on the tree—Luka had plenty of practice after getting the farm set up for the season. He stood there for a moment, hesitating. He glanced at Marinette. She had finished the sorting and was back to struggling with the tangled garland, and the look of utter defeat on her face...hurt, somehow.

“Can I give you a hand?” Luka found himself offering.

Marinette started slightly, and in an instant her shoulders went back and her smile flashed back into being. Luka was surprised to realize that it didn’t feel fake, despite the fact that he had seen her feelings on her face just a moment before. She was hiding those feelings now, but the smile she offered him was as sincere as the sadness.

“Um, sure, if you want to,” she said, holding up the garland in two hands. “It’s pretty twisted up. We could just leave it, but...might as well give it a shot, right?”

Luka took a handful of garland, and Marinette took another one farther down. They moved apart, spreading it out as far as it could go between them to try and see where it twisted back on itself.

“This looks like the end,” Marinette muttered, plucking at a piece. “Can you just hold it up for a minute?”

Luka did, watching Marinette as she looped the end she’d found back over and under and through the glittering mass. The silence was awkward, and the more Luka tried to think of something to say, the more he felt like there was only one thing he could say.

“Listen, I wanted to apologize—” he began as Marinette said, “Luka, I’m really sorry—”

They both stopped, and laughed, and Luka gestured for her to go ahead.

“I just,” Marinette pushed her hair back and glanced at him, then looked away. “I wanted to apologize for blurting that out about—you know—I should have thought, I should have realized you wouldn’t want to be approached like that, while you’re clearly not working—well, you were working, but not, not like that and I should have—well. I’m really sorry. You’re at home and you probably don’t want people gushing all over you while you’re trying to spend time with your family.”

Luka took a breath, looking at the floor for a moment. “I wanted to apologize too, for being so abrupt with you. I...hadn’t had the best morning, and you did startle me. I’m...well, I guess you could maybe say I’m retired, and I’d rather not be...known, here. I guess I kind of panicked.”

“Retired?” Marinette looked up at him in surprise. “But your music was so good! I mean—” She flushed, and grabbed the garland, moving to start draping it around the tree. “I really liked it, anyway. Sorry, I know it’s not my business...Anyway, I understand, and I won’t tell anyone I met you here.” The garland she was trying to place slipped off, and she sighed in frustration. “I swear Christmas hates me,” she muttered to herself.

Luka picked up the trailing end and held it so that the weight was no longer dragging. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“Of course,” Marinette smiled, and then she said, “How long have you and Rose been together?” This time the garland stayed where she placed it, with Luka feeding her more as she circled around the tree.

“Together?” Luka repeated, startled. “We’re not together. She’s dating my sister, actually. In fact if they’re not engaged by New Years I’ll be shocked.”

Marinette’s head whipped around to look at him. “O-oh. Oh! Oh, I understand now.” She flushed. “Just, before—”

“Yeah, I get it,” Luka grinned. “I can see how that would look if you didn’t know.”

“Wow, how off base was I, though,” Marinette giggled. “So your family’s from around here? I—oh, that sounded nosy didn’t it, I’m sorry, I swear I’m just trying to make small talk.”

“I’m not offended,” Luka chuckled. “Actually my family just moved here a few years ago. When my mom bought the tree farm I thought it was just another one of her crazy whims and she’d move on to something else before long, but she seems really happy here. What about your grandma? Gina doesn’t seem like the small town type, either.”

The conversation flowed comfortably from there, as they finished the garland and moved on to the other decorations. Marinette didn’t ask him any more questions about his music, and he carefully steered clear of asking her any questions about why she’d come—or been sent—down to their little town, and faster than Luka could have expected, they were closing up the empty boxes and stacking them to the side to be returned to storage. Marinette had a good eye, Luka had to admit as he looked at the tree. Not surprising, he supposed, but it did look a lot nicer than the previous year’s tree. Not only that, Marinette had arranged the extra decorations on the library desk in a pretty little display, and with his help, had even trimmed the windows with some icicle lights they found at the bottom of one of the boxes. Luka knelt to plug in the last set of lights, and when they were on, the whole library screamed holiday cheer to an almost obnoxious degree.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, Rose appeared behind him.

“Wow, look at this place, it’s awesome! Everything looks great! You two make a fantastic team!” She grinned at Luka, and he raised his eyebrows at her in warning. “Everything is so festive,” Rose went on, clearly ignoring him, as she laid a thoughtful finger to her lips and examined them, “except for you two. You’re ruining the mood.”

Faster than Luka could track she whipped something out and stuck it to his forehead, then turned and did the same to Marinette. Only when he saw the bright blue gift bow stuck to Marinette’s forehead did he realize what Rose had just done to them, and he rolled his eyes as he reached up to touch the bow on his own forehead. Rose swatted his hand away and then grabbed his arm, hauling at him until he had no choice but to stand up or fall over.

“There, now you’re properly decorated too,” Rose beamed. “All right, you two have spent all morning helping me, so get out of here and go do something fun! It’s such a pretty day!”

“Rose, it’s freezing,” Luka tried to say, but Rose was already pushing them towards the door, and he gave into the inevitability of it all with a sigh.

“Go down to the café, have lunch on my tab, both of you,” she ordered, dumping their coats in Luka’s arms before shoving them out of the door. “Thanks for all your help!” she called, waving at them as the doors slid closed.

“Real subtle,” Luka grumbled, reaching up to peel the bow off his forehead as he turned to face Marinette. That was a mistake, because the way her mouth was pursed in a little moue as she worked to remove her own bow was kind of adorable.

Damnit, Rose.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

#quickspins #monthofmiracles2020 #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #hallmark au #is that even a thing lol #it is now #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #quickfic #promptfic

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pikapeppa · 4 years ago

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Fenris/f!Hawke smut: Mouth

Some plotless feelsy smut, because sometimes a girl just has to write Fenris going down on Hawke. Or is that just me? Okay [goes to sit in the smut corner like a smut goblin]

~1800 words; read here on AO3 instead.

************************

Rynne Hawke spent a lot of time thinking about Fenris’s mouth.

He had the perfect mouth, in her opinion. His lips weren’t so plump as to be the first feature of his face to draw the eye, but her eye was drawn to them all the same. She lovingly studied the delicate bow of his lips, and she admired the way that bow became more exaggerated when he was sneering at a slaver or scowling at something Anders had said. She contemplated the perfect dusky-rose colour of his lips, and when she leaned away from him after a kiss, she silently cursed the smudges of her raspberry-red lip stain that dared to spoil the natural hue of his lips. Sure, there might be other mouths in Thedas that were more lush or more rosy or more attractively shaped, but to Rynne, no one else’s mouth held nearly the same appeal.

It wasn’t just the shape of Fenris’s lips that was so thoroughly preoccupying, though. It was the way they moved. It was the way they twisted in disgust when Fenris smelled fish down at the docks. It was the way they parted on a weary sigh when Rynne stumbled haplessly into the next late-night Lowtown fight. It was the way his lips pressed into a thin line when she said something foolish, and the way they stretched and curled into a smile when she said something foolish that he thought was funny. His lips were expressive, moving and shifting in time with his emotions and pulling at her heart like a puppet on strings. Rynne watched the evocative movements of his lips, and she thought to herself that she could spend a lifetime watching his perfect mouth and never get bored.

And then, of course, there was the way Fenris used that lovely mouth of his.

He used it for all the normal stuff, of course — talking and breathing and eating and all. But even those mundane acts were enough to drive her to distraction. When Fenris talked, Rynne watched the way his lips shifted around the baritone sound of his bone-melting voice, and she admired the way he slowly wet his lips when he was thinking about what to say next. When Fenris breathed, panting heavily after a fight or drawing a gasp of air when she dragged her tongue across his lyrium-lined abs, Rynne thought about the air that passed through those perfect lips, feeding into his lungs only to come back out shaped into a dryly humorous remark or a low-pitched chuckle or a pleasured groan. When Fenris ate, he hid his mouth sometimes behind one hand while he chewed, and Rynne treasured the moments when she glimpsed the tip of his tongue flicking out across his lip to catch a stray crumb or a precious drop of juice.

Fenris talking, Fenris breathing, Fenris eating and sipping elegantly from a glass of wine: Rynne watched with unabashed appreciation as his mouth did all of that fine and necessary work. But all of that was nothing compared to the way he used his gorgeous mouth to kiss.

His lips parted slightly as he drew her close, and Rynne happily gave herself to the perfect slightly-parted pressure of his lips. His kisses always started this way, a firm press as though he was anchoring himself to her before deciding whether to deepen the kiss or to draw away, and she was always delighted to let him be the one to decide which direction their kisses would go. In a life where Rynne Hawke was the one in charge, the one who led their merry little band of misfits from one madcap adventure to the next, she was more than happy to let Fenris lead the way in this slow and tantalizing dance of pleasure: this dance where his perfect mouth slid carefully and smoothly over hers, his lips coaxing hers apart and his sleek tongue stroking her own, his teeth pressing delicately into her lower lip until she gasped, his lips brushing over the corner of her parted lips with the delicacy of a butterfly’s wing…

Fenris leaned away from her, leaving her panting for air, and still she couldn’t look away from his mouth. His lips were plumper than usual from the firm pressure of their kiss and their colour had deepened to a tempting rosy hue, and she just couldn’t stop fucking staring at how beautiful they were.

“Hawke,” he said.

She forced herself to stop staring at his mouth. “Yes?”

His eyebrows rose slightly. “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“You are staring at me,” he said.

“I’m always staring at you,” she replied. “You are gorgeous, in case you’ve forgotten.”

He gave her a chiding little smile. “You’re staring more than usual, then.”

She tilted her head. “Did you know that you have the nicest mouth in all of Thedas?”

He scoffed and rubbed the lovely mouth in question. “Kaffas, Hawke. You will make me blush.”

“I certainly hope so,” she said cheerfully. “Your ears turn such a charming shade of red.”

He huffed a laugh, then lifted her chin with his thumb. “A nice mouth, you say,” he mused. “Is there something you want me to do with my mouth?”

His voice was a low and playful purr, and it triggered a pulse of lust between her legs. She let out a throaty laugh. “Why Fenris, what a naughty suggestion.”

“It isn’t naughty,” he said. “Not unless you make it so.”

She coyly nibbled her lip. “Well, if you’re offering…”

“I could offer,” he said. “But perhaps you should ask if there is something specific that you want.”

He was smiling faintly, and she nearly swooned at the treasured sight. She curled her fingers in the fabric of his tunic. “I’ll tell you what I want,” she said. “I want you to put that gorgeous mouth between my legs and do something useful with it.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I could do that,” he said, and he abruptly picked her up. The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the desk in the study while Fenris slid her silky skirt up her thighs.

She panted eagerly and leaned her weight back on her palms. Fenris sat in the desk chair and traced his thumb over her cleft through the barrier of her smalls, and Rynne jolted and lifted her hips.

He shook his head and smiled — Maker’s balls, that smile, the curl of mirth on that perfectly sculpted mouth! — then brushed his knuckle between her legs. “Your smallclothes are soaked through. How long have you been thinking about this?”

“All day,” she said promptly.

He paused in his petting and looked up at her with wide eyes. “All day? Hawke, it is past midnight.”

“It’s been a long day, believe me,” she said wryly. “Will you lick me now with your lovely tongue?”

He tsked. “You and your endless compliments,” he drawled. He pushed her skirt a little higher and carefully pulled the crotch of her smalls to the side, and when his tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip, Rynne stared at his mouth with rising desperation.

She wiggled her hips on the desk. “Fenris, please…”

He didn’t reply; instead, he lowered his mouth between her legs. His lips sealed over her pussy and the flat of his tongue pressed against her clit, and Rynne dragged in a tremulous gasp of air.

Maker’s balls, fuck, his mouth on her pussy… This was what made her come undone. This was the thing that distracted her the most during the day and kept her mind thrumming at night. The feeling of his lips caressing the slick folds of her flesh, giving her a gentle sort of bliss that complemented the more intense pulse of pleasure that his tongue was fostering in the swollen little bud of her clit: this was something that Fenris’s mouth did exceedingly well.

He pushed her legs further apart and kissed her sex, and Rynne stared shamelessly at his handsome white-haired head as he smoothed his tongue along the length of her cleft up to her clit. He graced her with an open-mouthed kiss and swirled his tongue slowly over her clit, and she clenched her nails on the desk with a gasp.

“Fenris…” she mewled.

He hummed into her flesh, a growly sound of affirmation that thrummed through her body and straight into her blood, and Rynne curled her hips toward him with rising desperation. She was spiralling toward her rapture, spiralling higher and closer in time with the gentle motion of Fenris’s tongue as it teased its way around her swollen little bud, and despite her playful jokes from a moment ago, she truly couldn’t stop staring. Fenris’s elegant fingers were holding her legs apart, and his hair half-obscured his eyes without hiding the tantalizing sight of his mouth moving at the juncture of her thighs, and the sight of him — Maker, the look of him, the sound of his hungry breaths ghosting across her sex, the sheer tangible reality of this incredible man gracing her humble body with the perfection of his mouth: it was almost more than she could bear.

He caressed her thighs with his palms and lapped carefully at her clit and kissed her with his beautiful mouth, and a heart-pounding moment later, Rynne found her bliss. It fanned out through her body and rippled all the way down to her calves and her toes, and she gasped and bucked her hips and cried out his name. He gripped her hips and continued to kiss her, his tongue sliding over her sex in perfect time with the frantic pulsing in her core, and when the ecstatic crescendo of her pleasure began to wane, she slid her fingers through his snowy hair in a gentle caress.

He wiped his mouth on her thigh, then lifted his head to look at her, and another exquisite half-smile pulled at his lips. “Hawke, you’re staring again.”

She let out a breathless little laugh. “You can’t blame me. You just have such a talented mouth.”

He huffed in amusement, then stood up and cradled her neck in his palm. “As it turns out, I am not the only one here with a talented mouth.”

She grinned and reached for his belt. “Is that so?

“It is,” he said. He pressed his forehead gently to hers. “And you are not the only one who has been thinking about this all day.”

His voice was husky and tender, and her heart flipped happily in her chest. “You smooth talker,” she whispered, and she tilted her chin up to lure him into a kiss – yet another perfect kiss from the most gorgeous mouth in Thedas.

Rynne spent a lot of time thinking about Fenris’s mouth. She thought about its shape and the way it moved, the curve of his smile and the way it curled around his Tevene-accented speech. But there was one reason and one reason alone that Fenris’s mouth was so thoroughly preoccupying to Rynne Hawke: it was the mouth of the man she loved.

Fenris was the man she loved, and his mouth was the only one she would ever want to kiss again for the rest of her life.

#fenris #fenris smut #fenris fic #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #f!hawris #fhawris #fenrynne #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #pikapeppa writes

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giorgiastastes · 5 years ago

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버닝 / Burning (2018)

"It's too close, you might not see it"

What to say about this movie...

The film itself is quite simple, even too easy at first sighting I'd dare to say, but the meaning behind, the interpretations and smart details is what makes it unique and pretty much a masterpiece.

I'm sure that most people, or at least those who usually watch unchallenging to elaborate movies, won't like it. If you're looking for something what will be "explained to you", for the director to give you that big plot twist or long monologue, you won't find it here. But if you want to watch a work of art that'll make you think, reflect and crash your minds, you have a good journey in front of you.

I remember that as soon as I've finished watching it I went online to look for theories, to see if someone else had the same idea as me, if I got it right and what I've missed, and then I planned to write here my thoughts on the real explaination, but after rewatching and searching I've figured it out BURNING doesn't really have a "true" explaination in my idea, or better, the director definitely knows what he believes is the so called truth, but the strength of it is how free of interpretations it is. I've read hundreds theories and honestly all of them could fit just right, so for once I've decided to do something different.

In here I will summarize all the theories, under layers and explaination that I've read, figured out or found, and I will leave to you, the reader, to believe your own "truth"

This will be full of spoilers, it's actually a summarization of the after watch, so read at your own risk, and since I'm taking for granted that you've watched the movie and remember it quite well too, I won't always repeat the plot when not necessary.

• Ben sells organs on the black market. That's how he gets his money and Haemi is aware of this, and decided to sell her own organs to pay off her debt. She even says I'D SELL MY ORGANS IF I WERE YOUNGER. She could also be unaware of this and that's why she dissapears.

• Ben is a serial killer. He seduces fragile women who are very easy preys to such an handsome and carismactic young man, and then gets rid of them after he gets tired. This happens about every couple of months, which corresponds to his journey in Africa timeline. They are the greenhouses he burns, because he knows nobody will look for them, and in fact the police does not care about the greenhouses, just like they don't care about missing women nobody knows about.

Ben also owns all the qualities of a maniac sociopath who's keen on control and feels no emotion or empathy. He never cries for example. He also feels pride in his crime and he's almost tempted to confess them to show how good he is. That's why he says to Jongsu that he will burn a greenhouse close to him, but he didn't mean it in a special terminology, but more like in an emotional sense. He will kill the the closest thing the other has, which is Haemi. He also states that she dissapeared like "smoke".

This would also be justified by the creepy call the protagonist receives by Haemi before she dissapears. The biggest evidence placed by the director to prove that this theory is the most correct one is in the last scene, where Ben is putting makeup on a new girl. For a non Korean speaker it's quite hard to get the reference but Makeup and corpses' cremation are spelled in the same way in the hangul language, therefore the movie showing us Ben doing the girl's makeup is the alternative way to say he's killed her and is now cremating the body, hence his obsession with fires.

He's the one who cleaned Haemi's room and took her cat. He also keeps his victims personal objects as a throphy of some sort.

• Ben is a pimp. He's the trainer for these beautiful, young but poor women who are ready to sell themselves when he convinces them to do so. This is shown as Haemi also become less and less shy as the movie goes on, as seen in the undressing scene, while being more bold and provocative too. He changed her drastically, or maybe only let her discover a different, more free, part of herself. He also applies makeup on them how he would do to a doll, playing dress up for a woman who's now becoming just an object of desire that can be bought.

• Ben is a human trafficker. He sends women into slavery while promising them a life of luxury and happiness. That's why he shows off his idyllic lifestyle, and then sells them in Africa (where he goes frequently), where they'll never be found.

• Ben is a life guru. He teaches unsecure and frustrated women to feel liberated and less oppressed, to leave it all behind and start from scratch. They pay him, that's why he's rich. He also keeps a "souvenir" of every woman he has turned. This could explain why he shows up to the meeting with Jongsu in the finale. If he actually killed or sold these women he wouldn't fall into the other man's trick.

• Ben doesn't exist. He's just the symbol of everything Jongsu is not but aspires to be. He's rich, confident, cultured and attractive. Every flaw and layer of insecurity Jongsu seems to have, Ben lacks. And in the end, when the protagonist finally becomes brave enough to mature, to actually chase the woman he loves, he's able to kill the shadow of himself that only reminded him of how miserable he was.

• Ben and Jongsu are the same person. Much Fight Club like, they're the same human being, just different, extreme sides of one. Jongsu could have a personality disorder or maybe we're just shown two sides of him that prove his mental health issues. That's also why Haemi seems to be involved with both of them without choosing a side, because one is the gentle but insecure fraction, the other the bold but arrogant one. And then, in the end, when such division is making him go insane, he decides to kill his alter ego.

• It's just a love triangle. One of my favorite songs of all time had a similar topic. There's the main character, a shy and quiet boy, who falls in love with a girl who feels foreign and unreachable to him. But he's not the only one in her life. She also has another lover who's much more attractive and manly in a way, and all three start to share this peculiar poliamorous love story, mostly platonic. She's very pretty and feels as free as Venus, torn between two men. Then one day she leaves, and she'll never come back. But while the second boy easily moves on with his life, figuring out it was just a näive fling, the singer remains stuck, obsessing over her day and night, trying to find answers and solutions just not to deal with the realization of her not loving him enough to stay.

• Every character represents a social stereotypes and criticism of modern South Korean classes. I think this is very straightforward, especially Jongsu's jealousy of Ben's wealth, and Haemi's attempt to RISE in the social pyramid, surrounding herself with high class people like Ben or his friends, even letting them make joke of her, to mock her, all of it just to feel part of their group and reality.

• It's all in Jongsu's head.

• The disappearance of Haemi, whether it happened or not or HOW it happened are not the main focus on the movie, which instead is the characters dealing with such loss and lack of knowledge on what happened. Much like the Russian movie Loveless (2017), where the event is only used as an artistical device to let the story progress and the characters' grief culminate. Maybe we really don't need to know what happened to her, maybe she's dead, maybe she's alive and better than ever, but to the movie's intent such information is superficial, it's just the human need to fill our curiosity when were too afraid to deal with the pain of remaining unaware of it. Jongsu is sure she's been killed and that brings him to his next move, but the viewer, he doesn't need to know, because he doesn't need to act, to keep the story going.

• Haemi might have killed herself. Ben is the only one who knows about this and that's why she gives him her cat. She also shows multiple signs of advanced depression, for more than half of the movie is almost like she's not there, like she's already just the memory, the ghost of a girl who once was there.

• The movie itself is just a metaphor. The metaphor is many times used by the characters and maybe not only as a word, part of a dialogue, but the overall film might be A BIG, CRIPTIC METAPHOR.

• Everything is hereditary. From family's fortunes and richness to behavior and inner rage. Jongsu was born poor and will die as such just like his father, and even though he seems like the most innocuous being, he's able to take out his rage on other just like this father. I guess it's in the genes.

• Jongsu is the calf. The calf represents Jongsu's pureness and naivety. And when he sells it, he's also selling his soul in a way.

• Haemi represents South Korea, Jongsu North Korea, Ben is the new Korea, the one always more and more Westernized.

• We're just reading the plot of Jongsu's book. When Haemi leaves for Africa he has plenty of time to write the story he's planning to put into words, and that's what he does. Everything we see after she comes back from her journey is just the plot of the book, and the creation of Jongsu's imagination.

• A modern reinterpretation of the Great Gatsby. Yes, obviously a VERY liberate view of the novel, but many details seem to be quite evocative.

• A criticism to how South Korea treats women. Even the movie itself does this, probably on purpose. The one who disappears is a woman, but the ones who are the main centre of attention are men. She's only a story device, never the real protagonist.

• Ben wanted Jongsu to discover his crimes so he could reach fame if the other ever made a book out of it. He's so full of himself he'd rather be punished for his crimes than never showing off how good he was at covering every proof. That's why he dies almost peacefully, and shed a tear, which he claimed to have never done before.

• The well Haemi reference to, symbolizes falling into prostitution. That's why Jongsu's mother knows about it too, since it's quite obvious she's now an escort. But she states the well is dry, as a way of saying that it's not how easy and fun it might seem.

• This is just the tragic story of a boy who's lost every possible source of love. From his father in jail, his mother who abandoned him, to the only girl that ever showed him affection disappearing, and a new friend who he decides to kill.

• Ben is Death or maybe the devil personified. He helps Haemi get the courage to end it one for all, and even pushes Jongsu to kill, cursing his soul.

#burning #burning 2018 #lee chang dong #Steven yeun #steven yeun #yoo ah in #jeon jong seo #beoning #버닝 #버닝먹튀 #south korea #cannes

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iscribble · 4 years ago

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the love we held on to (m)

pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader synopsis: being in love with the man who makes his words sound like a romantic and intricate piece of poetry means cherishing the golden days you get to listen to his voice, until all that’s left of him is a simple yet evocative song you promise to treasure with all your heart. genre(s): vocalist!seokmin, strangers to lovers, romance, angst, smut (warning: unprotected sex, profanties, character death) word count: 6,870 a/n: i wished this was longer, wouldve had much more impact i guess:( anyways almost cried writing this ;-; brace yourselves people!!

Bleak and bitter nights were not your favourite. They were ridiculously cold, as if a dark entity was overlooking the whole town with its raw breath gusting through jouissance from the homes of the people and replacing it with unwanted melancholy. The clubs would not be as crowded, shopping centres would close hours earlier from the lack of customers, and the streets, oh the streets, would always look a little too lonely.

Bleak and bitter nights were not your favourite, but it was during an evening of such that you had fallen in love with the man that had proven again and again that he was your world. Your safe haven. However, fate wasn’t on your side, for now you can only see him through the one song the two of you used to hold so dearly, or so you thought.

“I promise you’ll love it there!” Seungkwan was a man of persuasion and everyone would’ve known that by the way his words swirled as sweet invitations into your head that made your body involuntarily acquiesce. “Please? I’ll even introduce you to the handsome vocalist!”

“The what now?” You almost spat out the earthy savour of white tea that has yet to hit your throat, already questioning Seungkwan’s exaggerated coaxing. “Look I don’t need no handsome vocalist, I’ll go if you pay.”

The obvious shine in his eyes dimmed into a light glare as you reached the end of your sentence. The long-drawn-out roll of his eyes ultimately concluded with him agreeing, although quiet mumbles of how this would be the last time he paid for the both of you were still plainly ricocheting off the walls.

Like the swift gesture of lighting a match, the mean whirl of air outside became devoted to mantling your figure that donned a navy a-line dress, matching Seungkwan’s dress shirt the colour of an emperor butterfly.

Ever since the surfacing of a notice informing that a casual dining restaurant had just opened up for business not too far from your place, he had been unceasingly imploring you to dine with him in the comforts of the serene eatery. The place was accentuated with a blue glow, incandescing across the orderly arrangements of tables. It emanated the pleasant amity within the confines of your apartment, the kind of warmth that granted snugness to the people busy savouring their meals.

Seungkwan's adamant desire grew stronger when he learned that one of his best friends had placed a job as the vocalist of the band responsible for adding to the solace of the restaurant.

“Isn’t this lovely?” His eyes skimmed across the sapphire grandeur of the place, never landing on anything even though his figure was rooted to the sofa. The stage that grandly stood at the front bore a couple of performers who played different instruments with their undivided attention. You let the intoxicating resonance travel to your ears and influence your body, feeling it slowly swaying to the gentle melody.

“Are my eyes playing tricks on me or there really isn’t a handsome vocalist onstage?” You brought up, suddenly remembering that Seungkwan had wanted to introduce you to a friend of his.

“You’re blind,” Seungkwan retorted, subtly pointing at a taller male standing next to the stage, “he’s right there.”

The male was evidently lost in the effortless flow of the violin, seemingly immersed in the gig. As the song neared its end, he bounced on his toes, shaking off the nervous tension inundating his body.

“That’s him, that’s him!” Seungkwan shouted in a whisper as the man made his way to the stage. “Damn, told ya he looked fine.”

Seungkwan wasn’t wrong. The stellar glow that flooded the place now centred on the handsome man, spotlighting details of his stunning features. His hair was brushed up, as if showing off his fetching ebony eyes and the attractive smile that appeared behind the microphone. He stood there practically glowing like an angel. For a fleeting moment you wondered what his voice sounded like. It couldn’t be more perfect than this, could it?

As profound emotions started to well up inside him, a beautiful tune withdrew from his mouth, pervading the place and making you shiver. His voice sounded like an angel singing with euphony, filling a void you didn’t even know existed within you.

“Seokmin really is something else.” Seungkwan dreamily muttered, eyes still glued on the man. The restaurant had become the quietest since you arrived, everyone seemingly drunk with his vocals filling their ears.

His name was Seokmin.

From the look in his eyes, you could tell that the romantic ballad he delivered was imbued with sincerity, stemming from the depths of his heart. The words that gracefully circled about the place were not as clear as you hoped, but the lyrics were merely a cosmetic quality to the voice that touched your heart. A simple hum drawn from his mouth would’ve had you falling for him anyway.

The cold evening elapsed rather quickly as Seokmin serenaded the diners. You leaned against the chair, still trying to make sense of how someone could so immaculately be the shining example of perfection.

You finished your dinner just in time to catch Seokmin blending in with the rest of the performers after he finished his repertoire. Seungkwan looked at you and nodded toward the handsome man, extending his hand and zooming past the array of tables once you held on.

“Hyung!” He waved vigorously at the male, plucking his attention. The dark glint of ebony in his eyes came to life as he spotted Seungkwan inching closer with a huge grin. You watched in an awkward stance as they shared a brotherly hug, quite unsure of your place. You endured the sticky silence as your best friend threw out compliments with dramatic gestures of his hands, before Seokmin finally noticed you.

“Oh, are you his girlfriend?” Seokmin turned to you. Perhaps your perception was distorted, or your eyes were fooling you, when you caught his lingering stare on you just a few seconds before he finally spoke. Seungkwan did not notice this, though. Maybe you were mistaken. You tightened your interlocking fingers as a rosy tinge coloured his cheekbones.

Seungkwan snorted at his silly guess. You hit his arm lightly, although admitting that the idea was too obnoxious. “No, I’m a friend of his.” Your fingers were now free. Your right hand came up to hold the strap of your purse.

“Oh!” Seokmin's lips that were already broad enough extended even further, as if discreetly telling you he was delighted at the revelation. “Nice to meet you, I’m Seokmin!”

You knew your mind wasn’t making things up before before when you also felt the prolonged touch of his hand on yours. It was only supposed to be a handshake. Your body jolted with electricity when his thumb ran over your dorsal side.

You introduced yourself, throwing Seungkwan a mocking look knowing that he was the one who promised to do it.

But this way you’d only have yourself to blame when the unspeakable pang of heartache comes tumbling down to you in the course of your love story.

The second time you saw Seokmin was due to your own will power. Your last encounter with him left you with nothing but the growing wish to meet again, not even his phone number. You had nothing that could possibly connect yourself to Seokmin other than your hell of a friend Boo Seungkwan, who would chaff you with all his might if he knew about the problem.

You weren’t sure of when he’d perform at the restaurant, so you had absolutely no pointers of the right time to go there. It would, however, be a sensible plan to go there the same day Seungkwan had asked you to last week. So you did that, but this time, you were going alone.

You arrived a little behind time. The man you wanted to meet was already halfway through his first song. You took a seat at the back and watched as he sang a couple more songs, all the while ingesting your food. You had doubts on going alone at first, picturing all the judgmental stares that would be thrown in your way. You forgot that as soon as a word leaves his lips, everyone else would be immersed in his performance.

Before the final song ended you called for the waiter and paid your bill. You wanted to talk to Seokmin.

He slipped off the stage and ordered a drink at the bar. You came up to him, gently tapping his shoulder.

“Seokmin,” you sounded more enthusiastic than you had wanted to, it was almost demeaning. A soft hue wormed its way to your cheeks. You were wordless after that. When you went with a simple “hello,” you hoped Seokmin remembered you.

When his back slowly faced the other side and he confirmed that it was really you, you swore your heart banged against the cage that harboured it harder than it already did before. Not only because he remembered your name, but the way it sounded coming from him was like nothing you’ve ever heard.

And you knew you had to get used to that when he told you he would treat you to dinner.

“I just had dinner!” You announced rather quickly, although not wanting to skip an opportunity with Seokmin.

“Are you just going to let me eat alone then?” He asked you rhetorically, not expecting an answer from you anyway. “Come, there's an empty seat.”

Seokmin pulled out a chair for you. You shyly smiled at him, taking your seat. Of all the farcical scenarios you had rewound in your head, none of those involved Seokmin treating you to dinner.

“Why did you come here alone?” He asked after placing his order.

You were too shy to admit that the principal reason was sitting in front of you. You weren’t going to say that. So you had to make up a reason.

“Oh, Seungkwan was busy.” You awkwardly grinned. “I was too hungry to wait for him so I came here alone.”

“If I was in your place I would’ve ordered takeout or something,” he laughed, those teeth, that handsome smile. “Not come all this way and let it rob my wallet.”

He had a point. The things you do for Seokmin.

He had his ways of making the night go on as nice as it did for two people who barely knew each other. The little cloud of awkwardness floating above you seemed to have effaced as you conversed over dinner.

You zoned out staring at him once in a while, as if his face was this huge canvas of the dimly lit sky, and you were trying to count how many stars adorned it. Unlike the previous week, his hair was now let loose, the almond strands stopping just before his eyebrows. He still looked handsome.

Now that you get to reap the benefits of sitting this close to him and revel in his angelic presence a little longer, you successfully discerned the vanilla scent he had on him. You admired the wrinkle that would show every time he smiled, the cute little mole on his cheek, and the corner of his lips that would reach for the skies every time he laughed. He was breathtaking from afar and ethereal up close.

“Did you curl your hair?” Were the words that pulled you back to your senses. You thought you heard wrongly.

“I’m sorry?” You leaned in closer.

The hairs on your skin stood up at Seokmin’s breath tickling your ear. “Did you curl your hair?”

If Seokmin was aware that you did, that could only mean he remembered how you styled your hair or took in enough of your appearance to remember that you didn't do the same the first time you met. The thought made you a little dizzy, in a good way.

“I did actually!” You broke into a toothy smile. “How'd you notice?”

Now that it was his turn to confess, his ears painted themselves a lighter red. “I thought you were beautiful last week, you're even cuter like this.”

You tried to assure yourself that it was the great deal of food you consumed that made you slightly tipsy. It couldn't be his words, could it? No one could ever have such an effect on you.

After Seokmin had paid for the both of you, you reached for your purse and slung it over your shoulder. Seokmin had offered to walk you home, which you, almost too fast, accepted. Your place was not too far from the restaurant and you wanted more of this novel but exhilarating feeling. With one quick wave at his bandmates, Seokmin guided you outside with his hand on your back.

“Hey, you wanna step inside for a bit?” You find yourself asking Seokmin as both of you arrived at your door.

“Sure!” he answered with the same smile that hung on his lips a while ago, “I'm sure this is where Seungkwan’s been hanging out a lot right?”

“That's right,” you let a giggle slip past the narrow opening of your lips. You opened the door for him and fumbled for the light switch.

Having Seokmin in your apartment made you ten times more conscious of how its form would strike someone that wasn't a close friend. You realised that you never turned off the kitchen lights that were visibly broken (you could see it blinking). The cabinet over your sink was still open, and your bevy of footwear wasn't even in your shoe rack from all those days you didn't bother to put them back.

You were forced to jettison those thoughts after Seokmin assured you it was okay. You told him to make himself at home as you barrelled across the kitchen.

You were unconsciously singing a line from an indie track you had just added to your playlist of diverse genres as you prepared a glass of water for Seokmin. You were used to being alone, belting out quivery high notes when the place was too lonely to your taste. It had become a habit which you never intended on sloughing off.

The fragile tune that rippled from the kitchen only made him smile even more.

“You have a nice voice.” Your eyes enlarged at the sound of his voice. The jewel of a professional vocalist was sitting on your sofa and you just went all around the place hitting notes you weren't even sure you got right.

“Oh my gosh did I just sing out loud?” You shouted from the kitchen. A soft chuckle tiptoed to your ears.

“Let’s sing together!”

“I’d rather not, really.” You handed him the red mug with the scatty-looking pattern of uneven pink hearts.

Seokmin wasn't even giving you a choice. Your answer to his question really didn't matter because as soon as he brought up the idea, he started singing anyway. He looked at you, eyes adjuring you to join him while his voice coaxed yours to leave your lips, his smile that glows like the sun never fading. You didn't have a choice when his hand lifted to squeeze yours, another victorious way of persuading you.

Your voice was a cipher compared to his, like a tiny crumb beside a scrumptious blueberry pie. You struggled to even maintain the right tune as he harmonised with you. But Seokmin’s outstretched smile taped to his face like old gum that sticks to the underside of a chair. He looked at you as if you had the most beautiful voice, or as if your voice was even beautiful to start with. You wanted to be reserved but he didn’t comply. He made you feel easy. He kept on nodding at the words coming out of your mouth, smiling even wider when your voices blended just the way he wanted to.

“You have such a sweet voice.” He complimented you as your spontaneous singing came to an end. Your throat felt dry.

“You think so?” You asked, not even bothering to hear his reply. No matter how many times he waxed lyrical about you, you knew your voice was never that good. Seokmin just made it seem so believable.

He tightened his grip on your hand that had already begun to sweat. “How come Seungkwan never tells me he has a friend like you?”

“What do you mean?” You said in a fit of giggles. “I’m nothing special! Seungkwan only told me about you last week and I wished I had known you since forever!”

Light-hearted laughters fused within the walls of your living room as you talked about each other. It was almost ten when you realised Seokmin had been staying in your apartment longer than you had planned. He seemed to have realised that too when he suddenly stood up and searched the sofa for his things, preparing to leave.

You opened the door for him, stepping aside to give him space. Seokmin’s oscillating stare between your eyes and the curve of your lips imploded when he finally placed a light kiss on your cheek. You blushed at the contact.

The night could not go on forever and Seokmin finally disappeared from the borders of your vision.

You could not wait to see him again.

Seokmin was like a dream. Oh he was one. A dream that afflicts your mind with the best kind of inebriation and thick fog that unceasingly dances inside your head. A dream that leaves you in the lurch almost frustratingly, urging you to beg for more. An unrivalled dream that portrays all the emotions you've kept under wraps from Seokmin, unleashing all at once.

He was a dream you could never get enough of.

The moment his tongue slipped past your folds and pushed inside you, you felt as if the world began to erase everyone but the both of you, keeping you still in his built arms, rooting you in place as his tongue danced on your core.

Your fingers treated his hair like a pillar, finding support in the soft strands and pulling them every time he hit the right spot, making him hungrier.

This was only meant to be a game. A stupid 7 minutes in heaven that your friends had asked you to play, in an attempt to add colour to the scene at Seungkwan’s party that had started to degrade into boring leisure.

You had agreed to play only because Seokmin was in it. It would be a perfect disguise to be more intimate with him. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest when the bottle pointed at Seokmin when it was your turn.

He had started with a simple “I’ll kiss you for the sake of the game, alright?” without knowing that none of you would be able to resist the other as soon as his lips landed on yours. Neither of you wanted to pull away, and neither of you thought seven minutes would be enough. You had granted access for his tongue to traverse your mouth, his hands promptly raising to hold your neck when he felt the addictive tingle. He started planting kisses on your jaw, adding a little suck for every time he went farther down.

“S-seok,” you groaned as he sucked on your nipple. Seokmin paused and asked you if you wanted him to continue. You nodded eagerly, not wanting to be free from his touch. He continued placing kisses down your torso while his right hand massaged your breast. You leaned against the sink, letting out quiet whimpers here and there as he neared the place you wanted him the most.

He was quick to discard your shorts along with your underwear. You could no longer see Seokmin’s sugary smile and hear the ringing of his melodic voice. All you could see was the hunger growing in his eyes as he asked for permission to devour you. But beneath all that you could also see the faint twinkle of love.

Seokmin’s nimble tongue made you cum in no time, your legs wobbling like you had just run a marathon. Your fingers tugged harder at his hair, earning a groan from him. You were having a hard time holding yourself steady so you gripped his shoulders and leaned forward, gasping for air.

He tasted the sweet trail of juice that glossed your thighs, enjoying each part that relayed a distinctive tang but still bore its honeyed consistency. He was careful as he grabbed both of your hands that rested on his shoulder, stood up and kissed them lovingly.

You were breathless, but you were far from satisfied.

“F-fuck me, Seokmin.” You shakily whispered in his ear with the last of your voice.

“If you say so love,” Seokmin gave in to you by turning you around so that you would be facing the mirror while he fucked you. He placed a kiss on your shoulder before aligning his cock with your entrance, slowly pushing into you when your breathing has stabilised. You started your series of unrestrained moans as he stretched your walls, smirking behind you.

“I am so in love with your voice.” He cooed, starting at a steady pace. He pulled out and pushed inside you gently for a couple of times, with you latching onto the sink for support.

Your moans did not go unheard, and you knew that when your friends on the other side of the door started whistling and throwing a "you go Seokmin!" every once in a while, but also reminding that you had less than a minute left.

This had only fuelled the fire in Seokmin. He began fucking you faster and rougher, like he was desperate to release. You screamed at the amalgam of pain and pleasure. His hand ran to your clit, rubbing circles over it to make you cum for the second time. "Moan for me love, let me hear you again."

Alas, seven minutes was over before the both of you even managed to come undone.

“I’m opening the door!” Seungkwan shouted over the thick layers of your groans. Even then Seokmin wasn't pulling out of you yet. You could see the door slowly open from the corner of your eyes, your bottom half still naked and Seokmin was still inside you, fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

The both of you came as Seungkwan turned the lights on, the profuse mixture of cum instantly leaking out of you and staining the tiles.

“What the hell?” Seungkwan said in shock as he shut the door. You could hear the rest of the boys bewailing and gagging at the sight. They may be scarred for life.

Despite all the ruckus outside, Seokmin's sweet smile addressed you through the mirror as you looked at him with the obvious hint of drowsiness hanging off your eyes. He kissed your cheek and cleaned you up.

“I think we traumatised them.” There it was, his ravishing voice overflowing the place once more. He leaned down to kiss the crimson allure that is your lips. “How about we continue this at your place?”

You smiled, still intoxicated at the mere sight of him.

Ever since your heated session with Seokmin, the two of you started seeing each other a lot more. He had asked you out on dates, which would almost always end up with your body being absolutely sore the next day, mulberry streaks scattered all over the expanse of your shoulders.

The third time you went to that restaurant with Seungkwan and more of your friends, you were practically avoiding Seokmin.

Hell, every time you set foot in that redolent setting, you’d often have to conceal the scarlet patch that graced your cheeks and act like nothing was going on between you and Seokmin, all the while withstanding the teasing that came from the guys. Every time they decided to approach him after dinner and shower him with accolades, you’d stay quiet. When they finally started to leave the place you’d always look back and find Seokmin smiling at you, sometimes even risking to smirk. But that was it, that would be the only interaction you had with him.

However, when you came alone, Seokmin's public facade would dissipate into a sea of trifling dust. He would always make sure you’d leave the place limping and breathing for air.

You would advance toward him with a little verve to your step, always intrigued for what’s to come. He would guide you toward the bathroom when everyone else was engrossed in the enticing ballad that flowed throughout the place. The second you were alone he would spare you no time to ease up, immediately pushing you against the wall, lifting both of your legs and locking them around him. He would clutch your hands above your head and let his tongue wander inside your mouth. It would still have the taste of whatever you were eating that night. You’d stay like that for a few minutes and then Seokmin would bring you down, casting aside his trousers and setting aside your underwear before pushing himself inside you with no warning. This would always end up with you incoherently moaning his name. He’d fuck you against the wall with your legs fixed around his hips. He needed to be quick so sex in the restaurant was always quicker and messier than the slow nights in your bedroom.

This routine would drag out for quite some time until the night of a bleak and bitter Friday in your bedroom when the evening wind was especially foul.

You were hypnotised by Seokmin’s lustful gaze, his cock still buried deep inside you even as he finished his messy release. When he didn’t move you lifted your hand and grazed the golden expanse below his eye. “What are you doing Seok?”

Seokmin didn’t answer. Words didn’t come out of his mouth. Rather a poem. A melody. A song. He started a lullaby that coursed along with the evening wind that had seeped through the open window. It was a love song.

His voice was supposed to soothe you, to calm the nimble surge of blood flowing through your veins, to hold you like a mother’s warm embrace. And although it did, it forged the jitters more than alleviate them.

“Seokmin,” you whispered, still looking into his eyes. He hummed in response.

“Why is it a love song you’re singing when you’re not even in love with me?”

He paused.

“I never got to confess, love.” He stroked your swollen lips. “I love you. I know I do.”

Before you could speak again your lips were connected with his, this time moving slow and sensually in genuine intimacy, a contrast to the previously hungry and rushed kisses. You continued just like that, a heart-to-heart link between your lips shedding sheer exhaustion from sex.

Until you had to break the kiss to answer him.

“I love you too Seokmin.”

He smiled, the love song that halted beginning to pour out from his heart again. Your eyes were getting heavier and heavier and before you knew it, you were asleep. The last thing you saw was his eyes, setting forth a colossal amount of warmth.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

No matter how much you told him you hated your voice, Seokmin just couldn’t get enough of it. He loved the sweetness to it. He said it gave him strength. He said it was always the first thing that came to his mind every morning and the last sound he'd imagine before closing his eyes. He was in love with the lamblike tune that came from your lips even when they came out breathy, croaky, or slightly going wide of the right notes.

So you weren’t surprised when he brought you to Jihoon’s studio, claiming that he wanted to hear your voice every second of his day. Of course, you did everything you could to resist.

“Love, please?” He begged you again and again. “We’ll sing together, it’s gonna be alright.”

The only reason you eventually agreed was because you couldn't risk living without his voice holding you together.

Jihoon’s studio was Jihoon’s home. You could tell by the recording tools tending to his need every time he pressed a button, the outcome seeming to be just what he wanted. The oyster pail and a pair of chopsticks sloppily abandoned on his coffee table. The tall stack of wrinkled pillows sitting on the edge of the couch. The subtle beat coming from his headphones. Just the way he seemed to blend in with everything there.

Seokmin gave your hand a reassuring squeeze when it was your turn to sing. He tapped on your hand, tallying with the rhythm so you would stay in beat. His smile stayed apparent for as long as you sang. When it came to the harmonising part, he manoeuvred in the poky room to sing behind you while still keeping your fingers locked together. Jihoon, the man with no tolerance for physical affection whatsoever, blushed at the sight.

The thing about Seokmin was that although he had a voice that sounded like it came from the heavens, he would make you forget that you were singing with someone as good as him. He would obliterate the invisible weight on your shoulders and make you feel that you had the voice of an angel too.

“That’s a wrap!” Jihoon said from the other side of the glass. He had a bottle of coke in his hand.

“Thanks hyung!” Seokmin shouted. He kissed your brow. “Told you it wasn’t that bad.”

That evening you had a thought:

Every relationship has its own clear-cut tribulations. So when yours didn’t have one, you were starting to wonder if something should’ve happened by now.

And then it did.

Amidst the unbroken stridulating of crickets in the howling wind, there was a subtle knock on your door. It was Seokmin. A huge box of pizza wasn’t the only thing he brought. There was news. News that would eventually augment his world but demolish yours to rack and ruin. You felt nauseous, mostly.

“I’m leaving the country in a month.” He spoke while holding your hand. “An overseas agency saw a video someone uploaded of me and they wanted to cast me. It apparently went viral.”

“Seokmin..” you said in a hushed tone, restraining your tears. “I mean that’s great news! But that only means-”

“That we won’t see each other again for quite some time love.” He squeezed your hand, not wanting to look at you for his eyes were already brimming with crystal tears.

“How long?” You said quietly.

Seokmin paused for too long, you thought. “I don't know love, but we’ll work it out right?”

The tears that adorned your eyes finally went coursing down your cheeks. Seokmin witnessed this and everything in him broke.

He rubbed your back, calming you as he kissed your neck. He started to hum an all too familiar melody. Starting it slow and gentle while placing soft kisses on your cheek. He pulled away and continued singing even as the colour in his eyes grew feeble.

You couldn’t find it in you to join him. You were too weak. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. But you wanted to listen to him, to the voice that used to battle waves in the ocean and void the air of gloom over the clouds. Especially because the song was yours and his. An all too familiar song with all too familiar memories, and with him leaving in a month, the song would be the only piece of him you’d have near.

So you let him sing to you. You let him sing for you. You let the lyrics imprint in your head. Let them stick to you like glue. Seokmin kissed the wet tail of tears that ran down your cheeks. You cherished the kiss.

He started kissing your jaw while his fingers played with the hem of your shirt, slowly making its way underneath it. You held him, still sobbing. His fingers started moving toward your chest, as if he was searching for something.

“S-seokmin, what are you doing?” You stuttered from the remnants of teardrops that still threatened to fall.

“Shh,” he hushed you, still buried in your neck. “Just let me make love to you darling.”

You didn’t resist him. You weren’t in your right frame of mind, but even then you wanted him. Your thoughts were everywhere, but every time, he proved to be bigger than them. He had proven again and again that he was your world and you couldn’t escape a world as beautiful as him.

So you laid in bed that night with your hands holding onto his shoulder for support as he thrusted himself inside you. It wasn’t rough, wasn’t messy. He wasn’t selfish, chasing his own high, rather, he let you feel the stream of love gushing through every inch of your body. With every thrust he produced beautiful sounds, with every thrust he conveyed the immense ache in his chest from the thought of living without you by his side. That night, and like every other night he would say, Seokmin made love to you.

And that night, like every other night, he sang for you.

Departure is a bitter subject. It is wounding, even when someone or something of worth waits at the end of the road. It is painful, even when it’s for the best. Though you prepared yourself for this day, you knew you would never be ready enough.

“Listen to our song when you miss me.” Seokmin said while holding your cheek in his hand. “I’ll be there. I’m just one song away.”

“I’m gonna call you when I miss you Seok,” you laughed weakly, voice still hoarse from the long hours you’ve been crying. “but of course, I’ll listen to our song.”

“I will too love, I love you.” Were his final words before bidding farewell to the boys that had also joined in on the heartbreaking little moment. You watched as his figure gradually dissolved into the crowd. He turned to you for the last time and waved, the smile that caught your attention from day one still ever so present on his face. With one last gesture of farewell, he was gone.

Had you known he’d be gone for good, you’d use up more days to admire the surfacing colours of twilight as you leaned on his shoulder. You’d use up more days to share a fervid kiss in the graceful moonlight gleam that danced with your shadows. You wouldn’t have complained when he asked you to sing for him, wouldn’t have resisted when he asked you to sing with him. You’d make love to him every night, every time of the day he wanted to. You’d give him everything he wanted. You’d give him the world. Had you known he’d be gone for good, you never would’ve let him go.

Never.

You decided to treat the boys to dinner. You knew for a fact that they’ve known Seokmin longer than you have, they must’ve felt the same pang of sentiment. Although they didn’t love him the way you did, they were his brothers.

Three hours have passed since Seokmin’s plane departed.

You brought the boys to the restaurant he used to sing at. Their riotous nature and unrestrained laughs that’d appear in between conversations were enough to entirely pretermit the ongoing thoughts you had of Seokmin. Once the group fell silent though, you too fell into a deep yearning for his presence. Seungkwan seemed to notice the subdued change in your expression. He kneaded your back.

“It’s gonna be alright, it’s gonna be alright.” He repeated. You needed those words. You smiled at him, grateful that he knew when to exchange his perky nature for a comforting one.

You turned your phone on. You smiled at the screen. It was a picture of you and Seokmin taken by Jihoon at his studio. It was after you had completed recording your song.

You remembered it was Seokmin that had come up with the outline of the lyrics. You had proposed a few romantic lines, which he instantly integrated to the song. You also thought he would be singing it alone. You laughed at how naive you’d been.

You already missed him. You took your earphones out of your purse and plugged it into your phone. You leaned against the chair, admiring the view you had of the boys, Seokmin’s honey voice immediately filling your ears.

But something wasn’t right. Not all of them were conversing in their jovial manner. Jeonghan’s gaze was hooked to his phone, his forehead seemingly wrinkled a little too much. Just as you were about to call his name, he silenced the group first.

“Hey, I don’t mean to freak you guys out or anything, but,” he continued, bringing his phone to face you and the boys. It was a trending news, something about a plane. “Isn’t that Seokmin’s flight number?”

“It is..” you struggled to breathe. “Why is it on the news?”

Jeonghan avoided eye contact as soon as he realised the horror.

“There was an accident. A plane crash. I think Seokmin’s in it.”

You had found yourself more often praying that all of this had been a dream, or wishing that you had been able to foretell the future that waited, more than you were trying to accept the work of fate.

You had found yourself begging countless times for the heavens to bring him back, and you were sick of it. You were sick of yourself acting like this, knowing that it wouldn’t happen no matter how many times you cried and begged. Knowing that you couldn’t escape it. You just had to accept it.

And it sure was hard.

But with all the things Seokmin had taught you while he lived, he had also taught you to be strong. He had taught you to erase whatever tears were beseeching to leave an ugly colour on your golden features, and get back up. He had promised you that no matter what happened, he’d always be there for you. And he wanted you to be strong, for him.

So there you were, standing tall at the podium before everyone else on the day of the wake. You dressed as Seokmin would’ve loved it. You swallowed all the humdrum tears before they could shape in your eyes and started your speech, which was really, just a proclamation of love.

“Lee Seokmin was like the sole streak of light that seeped through a hole in the clouds on a gloomy day. He was always there to lighten up the mood, to put a smile on everyone’s face.”

“and his voice. His voice was heavenly. There aren’t even enough words to describe it, and you would know if you’ve heard him sing.”

You looked up at the boys smiling at you, some nodding their head in agreement and some attempting to hide the tears forming in their eyes. You continued.

“He was like a dream. He was too perfect, I sometimes wonder if he’s even real.” The audience followed you as you smiled.

“But he is,” you nodded, “he is real, and to receive such an immense amount of love from him, every single day of my life, the feeling is just surreal.”

At this point most of the boys weren’t even trying to deny their tears.

You knew Seokmin was watching. Somewhere up there. You knew that although you couldn’t feel his love the same way anymore, it’s still there. And as long as you lived, it would still be there.

“Seokmin gifted me a song before he left,” you glanced at Jihoon, sweetly smiling back at you, “it’s our love story that I will treasure with all my heart. At first, I thought this song would be the only piece of memory I’d have of him,”

“but he has also gifted me this love that’s growing inside me.”

You looked down toward your stomach, to the little bump that was quietly sticking out. You gave it a delicate and gentle caress, the kind that Seokmin would give you after he made love to you. You beamed at the breathtaking sight, your hand still resting on the loving curve as you faced the audience for the last time and finished off your speech.

Seokmin was an angel. He didn’t deserve the evil within this world. But he was finally free, and although you could never deny the prick of grief that dwelled inside you ever since his passing, you were now relieved more than anything else. He was home. He was where angels should be.

You looked up into the sky with a flicker of hope in the eyes he used to adore so dearly.

“Until we meet again my love.”

107 notes · View notes

hearts-hunger · 4 years ago

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happy appreciate queen creators day, my lovelies!! thanks to the wonderful @two-lovers-together, the queen fandom’s cup runneth over with love and appreciation for content creators today ♡ i wanted to join in on the celebrations by showcasing some of my favorite queen creators and thanking them for their hard work in keeping the fandom full of beauty and fun and everything wonderful. we wouldn’t be here without you, and we love you so much!!

so, in no particular order, here are my favorite queen creators and some of my favorite works of theirs! ♡

fic authors:

@sohoneyspreadyourwings - first off, sabrina is a darling and i smile every time she pops up on my dash. second off, her writing is so cute! i love all of her stuff, but her pat murray oneshots and headcanons are the fics i go back to when i’m having a hard day, because i they’re adorable and funny and wonderful. check out her masterlist!

@jessahmewren - ok, as far as really delicious steamy smut goes, the queen fandom absolutely does NOT deserve this author. each fic (which can be found on ao3 here) drive me absolutely crazy with how well they’re written, and in the case of smut, with how hot they are. every fic is the perfect blend of sexy sexy smut and tender fluff!

@word-babble - what can i say about babbs that hasn’t been said by me to her in the strictest confidence of our tender love letters to each other? besides being a perfect darling and dear friend, her writing is tender, tender, tender. her masterlist holds some of my very favorite fics in the queen fandom, particularly her maylor works. she writes angst so well and it always ends up in such sweet (and sometimes ~sexy~) resolutions that leave you soft and wanting more.

@brian-maybe-not - the queen fandom is utterly undeserving of the cute, funny, really sexy fics by this beauty. winter’s roger and ben fics are my favorite, because i’m a sucker for the way they’re written with such sassy, teasing, incredibly hot personalities. fics that get you right into the story and create a believable setting while also delivering in the fluff and smut departments? we stan this whole masterlist!

@supersonicfreddie - the range of cat’s fics in her masterlist leave me dizzy with how much good smut and soft tender fluff they include. her professor!gwil fics were the first thing that made me realize that maybe i have a thing for the professor au, and her series “a new place to begin” is absolutely perfect.

@punkgeekchic - sammy’s fics all have one thing in common: they’re sweeter than apple pie and twice as nice! she writes angst with the sweetest fluffy resolutions, and it’s like the boys themselves are giving you bear hugs. her dad!joe fics are so cute and fluffy, and her penchant for including puppies in her fics for the boys to cuddle is an absolute delight. go read through her masterlist!

artists:

@cherries-n-rocknroll - the absolute queen of that unique aesthetic quality of summer, cherries, red lipstick, and sundresses with straps falling off of tan shoulders. her eye for color blows me away, and all of her art is so sexy. send tweet.

@moustachefreddie - lacey is a sweetheart who makes gorgeous purple (and not purple) gifs, and her devotion to freddie’s mustache is an inspiration to us all. her single cover artwork dazzles me, and freddie would be proud to know how beautifully he’s depicted by her art.

@stoneqoldcrazy - i have NEVER EVER in my life EVER been so jealous of someone’s moodboard making ability. oh my god. from the temes to the color to the vibes in every one of her moodboards, gabby is the goddess of moodboards.

@ogrebattles - perfection. just sheer perfection. the creativity and artistry that goes into every edit and graphic floors me every time i see a new one.

@eileen-crys - rachel’s art is the most precious in the whole fandom. her deaky and johnica art makes me emotional with how darling it is, and her au’s are always so fantastic and creative and wonderful!

@john-deacon-fucks - the chibi queen art!!! need i say more!!! her john and veronica art is so tender and sweet and makes me all warm and fuzzy.

@drbriangay - simply put, i have never seen more ethereal, spacey, angelic, mysterious, evocative artwork in my whole life. she makes each member of queen look like an eldritch god in the best kind of way.

there are so many more queen artists and authors that i haven’t mentioned, and they do such beautiful work for us! show your love for them by reblogging, writing in the tags, commenting, and sending sweet messages to their inboxes. fandom isn’t anything without content creators, so treat them like the treasures they are! ♡

#much love to every content creator!!#you deserve all our love and thanks!!#appreciation day #appreciatethequeencreators #appreciate the queen creators #fandom creators appreciation day #♡#fic recs #art recs

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noahmanskar · 4 years ago

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The Best Albums of 2020 (and from the Before Times)

I read a lot of year-end music roundups, and several this year have come with a resonant caveat: It’s been harder to discover new music this year, both because of physical limitations (no shows, no record-store browsing, no chats with friends about your latest finds), and because the way we used music fundamentally changed. It certainly did for me. Rather than serving as the backdrop for a commute or a night out, it created moments of solace from cabin fever while doing dishes, or showering, or running semi-weekly errands. So I often turned to what was comfortable and familiar, songs that conjured memories and feelings to get me through the day. Even on the rare occasions of social listening, the groups I was with drifted into nostalgia — middle school dance tracks, mid-2000s emo, inherited dad rock, even songs from just a year or two ago, when everything was simpler, relatively speaking.

That’s not to say nothing new moved me. There was a handful of albums and songs that were crucial to getting through the doldrums. They soundtracked bike rides, long walks, longer drives and lots of small moments mentioned above. But I don’t think I can think about my favorite music of this year without thinking about the albums of the past that got me through it. Besides, one of the many lessons 2020 taught is that time is a bizarre illusion anyway. (This exercise also lets me write about some recent albums that I didn’t get to write about when they were actually released.

So here are the albums, past and present, that made 2020 bearable. I hope you found yours, too.

Tame Impala, “The Slow Rush”

Tame Impala’s fourth LP came out on Valentine’s Day. That afternoon, Claire and I had a lunch date to mark the occasion before we got on a plane to visit my parents. The night before, we had gone out to dinner with friends visiting from San Francisco and then to a bar, where we huddled next to strangers on a water bed. Roughly a month later, all of this would be unimaginable, and Kevin Parker’s lyrics to “One More Year” would be eerily prescient as we settled into this new normal:

But now I worry our horizon's been nothing new 'Cause I get this feeling and maybe you get it too We're on a rollercoaster stuck on its loop-de-loop 'Cause what we did one day on a whim Has slowly become all we do

The song is really about surrendering to time, and not worrying about it passing in spite of your ambivalence. The opening chants of Parker’s “Gregorian Robot Choir” make it easy to surrender. They carry you into a world where, as the cover art suggests, all that time you were worrying about has already passed, so you might as well dance. At the same time, the songs that follow, like “Borderline,” “Breathe Deeper” and “Lost In Yesterday” make it easy to remember what it was like to dance in a sweaty room with people you love, and to look forward to doing it again, after a little more time passes.

Fleet Foxes, “Shore”

There’s something comforting about the fact that Fleet Foxes released this record on the exact moment of the autumnal equinox. It’s a reminder that nature has its own rhythms that carry on regardless of what occurs in our human lives. They give us a measure of certainty in uncertain times. One of these rhythms — death — looms large in “Sunblind,” an ode to Robin Pecknold’s departed musical forebears: David Berman, Bill Withers, John Prine and others. This song exuding calm acceptance shifts into “Can I Believe You,” which wrestles frankly with doubt and fear.

These tracks contain profound contradictions, but sonically, they're both bright, hopeful and sure. That’s what made this album such a balm in the sixth month of this pandemic, a time of both growing darkness and hope for what might be on the other side. It reminds us that there’s power and beauty in feeling all these things at once.

Lil Uzi Vert, “Eternal Atake”

This one spent two years in label purgatory, but it finally arrived in March to prove Lil Uzi Vert can do it all. He’s at his most versatile here, spitting and crooning, boasting and balladeering. “You Better Move” is an early standout packed with playful nostalgia, including a beat that samples that classic PC pinball game and delightful jabs like these:

Yeah, step on competition, changin' my shoes Green shirt, bitch, I'm Steve, where is Blue? Every chain on, I pity a fool I'm an iPod, man, you more like a Zune Made her eat on my dick with a spoon, ew Versace drawers, bitch, you Fruit of the Loom

Then there are the melodic tracks like “Urgency,” which compel you to hum along even on the first listen. The excellent diversity made it worth the wait for this hourlong journey to another planet.

Sturgill Simpson, “Cuttin’ Grass Vol. 1: The Butcher Shoppe Sessions”

I haven’t spent much time with Sturgill Simpson outside of 2014′s “Metamodern Sounds in Country Music,” and I can’t say I’ve ever listened to another bluegrass album all the way through. But these new cuts of songs picked from Simpson’s catalog are wonderfully enticing. Simpson puts the talents of his backing band front and center, and their harmonies and rhythms illuminate his vivd songwriting in new ways. It was a great introduction to the genre for me.

Fiona Apple, “Fetch The Bolt Cutters”

I got here after the hype, after the perfect 10, after all the year-end number-ones. Fiona Apple lives up to all of it. Her compositions are complex and evocative, the lyrics tender and biting at once. Her artistry is unsparing. The chorus to the title track is already getting stuck in my head, and I can’t wait to spend more time with this one.

Bea Troxel, “The Way That It Feels” (2017)

Almost a decade has passed since I first saw Bea Troxel play. She was in an incredibly talented trio with two of my high school classmates: Maeve Thorne (who has an entrancing solo EP of her own), and Rita Pfeiffer (the violinist on this record). They ended up winning my school’s battle of the bands, and I got to interview them for the student newspaper. Shortly after our senior year, they recorded an album that still outshines most of today’s indie folk. So I jumped at the chance to all three of them again in Brooklyn.

Troxel’s performance in particular was a revelation. I won’t ever forget how I fell into a trance as she picked away at “Talc,” which exemplifies her gift for natural metaphor. I haven’t stopped playing her record since, and it’s been a constant comfort throughout this year. Her voice is one of a kind, her songwriting is rich, and the compositions flow together beautifully. I can’t wait for more; in the meantime, “The Way That It Feels” will be on repeat.

Travis Scott, “Birds In The Trap Sing McKnight” (2016)

There’s been much ado about the brilliance of “Astroworld,” Travis Scott’s magnum opus, but I have a soft spot for his sophomore LP, where he reached the peak of the spare and heavy sound that started to take shape on “Owl Pharaoh.” There are plenty of sonic layers here, and the ordering of the tracks is a craft in itself — a series of peaks and valleys that glides from the haze of “beibs in the trap” to the climax of “goosebumps” and then into the cool waters of “pick up the phone.” It feels like Scott is guiding you to and from these destinations. The journey is, as The Weeknd might put it, “wonderful.”

Harmonium, “Harmonium” (1974)

One of my pandemic binges was “Letterkenny,” the sharp Ontario-set sitcom with top-notch banter and a great soundtrack full of indie hits and Canadian deep cuts. The fight scenes are elegantly choreographed, but so are the handful of sequences at the end of key episodes that reveal the show’s emotional bedrock. One such scene is set to Harmonium’s “Un musicien parmi tant d'autres” — the main characters are reveling in a bar with their Québécois pals, whom they’ve just helped beat up a rival group. As the song builds to its climactic chorus, leading man Wayne, surrounded by couples, realizes his longing for companionship. Another fight breaks out, but instead of joining in, Wayne makes his way through the slow-motion fray toward the woman he’ll propose to in the next season. (Their relationship later falls apart, but that doesn’t undercut this scene’s beauty.)

This is probably the first foreign-language album I’ve listened to in full, but all of it evokes that feeling for me — the joy of walking through the chaos to reach what’s really important. Not a bad sentiment for these times.

Bon Iver, “22, A Million”

To talk about this weird, dark and brilliant album, I need to talk about “715 - CR∑∑KS.” Everyone I’ve talked to about the third track on “22, A Million” either loves it or can’t stand it. I’m devoted to it to the extent that it was my most-played song on Spotify this year. It oscillates between tenderness and fear, between silence and explosions of sound. The lyrics are an epitome of Justin Vernon’s cryptic poetry. It’s isolated and spare and enthralling and beautiful in its own bizarre way — just like the rest of the album, which is rich with themes of persevering through the darkness in spite of the uncertainty about when the light will appear. Vernon is alone on “CR∑∑KS,” but he’s accompanied by a cacophony of his own voice. As alone as we might feel right now, there’s always someone else shouting through the darkness with us, even if we can’t see them.

#music #2020 #bon iver #harmonium #bea troxel #travis scott #lil uzi vert #sturgill simpson #fiona apple #fleet foxes #tame impala

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