#and the worst part is is that I have no one to be mad at really
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In your general appreciation of nature, I am curious about your take on this - do you believe nature has reached "peak complexity"?
There was a time without flying animals. There was a time without land animals. There was a time without vertebrates, without segmented exoskeletons, without fur, without feathers, without complex social structures, without eyes. There was a time without plants, or any kind of photosythesis. There was a time without multicellular life.
But at this point, do you feel nature on planet Earth has evolved all "milestones" there are (and from now on, all additional complexity will have come from civilization, one way or another)?
I mean in terms of potential, assuming for a moment "nature" of some kind still exist during the next billion years or so.
Yes or No would be enough (lol), but of course spec evo ideas would be even cooler!
Nah I think there's absolutely infinite things nature could evolve some day that we can't even imagine. You really never know. Like it's 100% biochemically possible for something to "breathe fire;" there just has to be a sequence of mutations and the right competition to gradually make it happen, possibly starting with something that sprays boiling hot compounds like a bombardier beetle. I could also imagine a whole class of animals evolving like the modular people from All Tomorrows, because we already have Siphonophores. It's just a matter of something evolving to be a colony that can also come apart and keep functioning. I'm also obviously obsessed with the concept of a creature that weaponizes its own little symbiotic bugs, since I've used that a million times. Like maybe millions of years from now, a descendant of sloths will have upgraded from being full of moths to being full of tiny wasps? And then what if that's so effective they actually start diversifying like crazy and there's a whole era dominated by mammaloid wasp nest beasts ranging from grazers merely cleaned and guarded by their insects to predators who hunt with their assistance. Plant/animal physical symbiosis is also another thing that's not really taken off outside a few insects. Why shouldn't a plant some day decide it likes growing on some kind of animal's body? It's not a plant, but lichens grow on a species of weevil. It's so rare there aren't even photos, but I swear I saw video of one on BBC when I was a kid:
What if a moss adapts just to the shell of some big reptile and eventually the reptile starts to derive sustenance from it too?? Over time what if this evolves into basically real life Bulbasaurs, where the animal part can be sustained off sunlight? It'd just have to slow its animal metablism way, waaay down to meet the plant halfway. Maybe it hibernates for years and years at a time or spends decades developing like a cicada and then it emerges in pure mating mode, using up all the food it conserved as its flower finally blooms. I know most of my examples are now elaborations on something that's kind of almost already begun happening somewhere but you get the idea. Furthermore you never know if all life as we know it will die out one day while there's still a couple billion years left of the planet's physical existence. Then a whole new line of life could evolve that we can't conceive of at all, from the ground up. Like crystalline mineral trees that start talking to each other with laser light. Or maybe only bacteria are left but for some reason bacteria develop what they need to start sticking together and building a new kind of multicellular organism. What the heck would an equivalent to "animals" look like if the ancestor was a bacterium????? Holy fuck I'm mad I won't see it. Fuming and seething actually. This is the worst thing ever. Why am I doomed to die on regular animal planet with google bots and disney remakes. I wanna see salmonella animal planet. It's not fair.
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âCASUALâ RAFE CAMERON
genre smut, angst wordcount 1.4k
â i've heard so many rumors. â
content warnings ,, mentions oral (f!receiving), p in v, masterbation in the bathroom, 'no attachment sex', rumors (blegh, drama llama.), rafe and reader break up. s1 era.
it was so tiring being rafe's quick fix because you just wanted a real thing, y'know, not some quickie on his couch. the worst thing? your friends (not so friendly friends) call you a loser because you still hanging out with him, when any girl would have done dumped him and found someone better. but he is, or was your better.
sure, you did everything with rafe (when he called you up, not when you asked. sure one day you were fed up, left him a voicemail because of course he wouldn't pick up for you. "i've heard so many rumors." you said through the crackly phone. "that i'm just some girl you bang on your couch, i can't believe i thought you thought of me better."
an hour later (per usual), he answered you an hour later, telling you to 'hurry your ass out to tanneyhill'
you thought for a long hard while before ultimately deciding to head out to tanneyhill. where death literally layer waiting for you in your grave. you knew quite well what he was mad about and what he wanted, because you've sent multiple voicemails about the rumors going around outerbanks, you've heard about them and youâbe literally heard tourons living in the drama with you and rafe.
and you could never leave your back turned to long before people behind started murmuring up a storm.
you walked closer to your death in your busted up converses, running over impossible scenarios in your head. you stopped at the gate, texting rafe 'im here come to the gate.' you said with all intentions to be sassy. when you saw him, his pushed back curtain bangs, every part of him looked so hot.
he opened the gate, telling you to come on. rafe roughly grabbed your arm, taking you to his fathers study room were he did most of his work. whilst you were extremely liked throughout the cameron household, only you, rafe and maybe even sarah knew the real intent to your relationship. rafe said annoyingly, "we're not together, let me make myself clear.
it was like his mood immediately changed as he continued, "just a quick fix whenever we need it." when what he really meant to say was when he needed it. maybe you really should dump him. if that's how it really works. he kissed your forehead, "'n baby, no attachment." though three weeks ago he excused the both of you so he could be knee deep in the passenger seat while he was eating you out, remembering all those sweet nothings he whispered into you pussy that made you give him what he wanted. not to mention, he always acted so lovey dovey with you. and it was about time you got fed up.
you didn't expect for his step-mom, rose, two weeks later after the major argument with rafe to invite you for dinner at tanneyhill. rafe, put on a mock smile, ready to peel the skims dress off your body. you were greeted by ward, and did he piss you off, with the fake smiling and his eyes trailing across your body whenever he could. perv.
"welcome, you look nice and sophisticated." ward said with the nicest tone he could bear, "no wonder rafe doesn't bring you up, your so lovely i'd hog you to." he laughed, and it sounded so fake. rafe had his hand on the small of your back as he led you into the dining room.
you took a seat in between wheezie and sarah, rafe sat across from you, with a pissed off expression. like, how could your's and his situation be casual now? you've literally done every thing, fingering, eating you out, a little bit of intercourse action, you've jerked and sucked him off, and you've let him jerk off onto your tits, and it was somehow casual.
after dinner, rafe again, excused you and him to go to the bathroom. he led you to the bathroom, shutting the door as he told you demanding to get on his counter, you back pressing against the mirror. "fuck, y'look s'good tonight." he pushed up the skims dress up to your hips, "'n no underwear?"
"all'that arguin' f'nothin', still my sweet, sweet sluty girl, ain't you?" he slowly rubbed your thighs , "you gotta be quiet though, don't want to embarrass yourself, do you?" he smugly grinned when you nodded, he dipped his fingers into your cunt, and your let out a surprised gasp, squeezing around his fingers.
he kissed you, whispering sweet nothings like you and him didn't just have an argument two weeks ago.
he unbuttoned his pants, using his index to hook the loops were a belt would be to shove them down, following his boxers. he wiped the pre-cum off his tips, using his thumb to slide it into your mouth. "my girl takes everything." he whispered as you attentively sucked on his finger.
you sucked off all the pre-cum off his cock, rafe patting your cheek gently. he spread your legs more, giving him a great view of your pretty, coated pearl, pressing his finger against it, you rolled your head back into the mirror.
"rr-rafe!" you stuttered out as you cried out. he pulled away from your pretty pearl, aligning his cock with your tight hole. he thrusted into your hole, making you cry out for him again.
he squeezed your cheek, holding you in between his thumb and index finger. "c'mon baby give me more than that. not to loud though." he whispered harshly against your neck, gripping your thighs as he kept repeatedly bullying his way into you. and without break, he kept thrusting his cock into you, with a sneaky smirk. "your my girl aintchu?" he kissed your neck, taking a rest inside you.
rafe nipped at your neck as he moved his cock against your gummy hole. feeling you squeeze around him when he bite and sucked on your neck, he kept doing it. even if it felt like you wanted to squeeze his cock off inside of you. "s'tight. jus' how i like it." he whispered against your shoulder, bullying his way back in you as your gummy walls tried to push him out. he aggressively grunted in your ear, feeling the warmness off your breath as you let out a whimper and even softer moans. you gasped when he touched your g-spot, immediately convulsing around him but not yet coming on his cock.
he'd pulled out just before you could finish. he pulled his boxers, following his pants. he buttoned them up, leaving you desperate for release. you found yourself rubbing your clit trying any method of running your clit to come, though you weren't quite being able to finish off yourself. maybe the problem was that you never had to do anything yourself. you came on rafe's cock than he would come on your stomach.
you tugged your black skims dress back down, putting your heels back on as well before making your way out of the bathroom. you sat across from rafe as he had the satisfaction of making you better than before and not helping you like usual. it was great to see you a little grumpy, whilst a little nervous because you decided to be a little slut and go no underwear. but doesn't mean you weren't his little slut.
you were obviously out of it, because sarah had to tap you back into reality as everyone started eating. you cut the steak up before taking a bite of it. "this is really good ms. cameron, you'll have to teach me how to make it." you said cheerfully. rose smiled at you and nodded.
she was really proud of the fact you thought it was that good, but than of course, her cooking for the cameron's was something any mother should do, while some might think that she'd hire someone, she did it herself.
a week later, your friends had told you rafe had said it was casual still and that 'you get off when he hit it' when he never hit your clit not once. sure he left you drying for release but that wasn't the point. and that was near the last straw for you. you were tired.
you wanted a real relationship which was obvious that rafe wasn't ready for, so you found yourself calling him. and again, it wasn't something were he'd answer you, you said to him through the voicemail "i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself." you took a breath, "we're done." you said before slipping your phone in your pocket and walking away from the wreck after just having breakfast with your friend.
TAGS .á @archiveofvirtue @sematarygirls @beausling @mattsdolll @pr3ttyf4wn
@wi4hfulth1nking @gibson-g1rl
#ę°ŕš ´` ŕšęą my worksâ đ#rafe cameron#rafe#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron smut#rafe angst#rafe smut#outerbanks#outerbanks angst#outerbanks smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x reader
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Askew
Summary: Terry makes good on a promise.
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: SMUT (18+)
Previous: At Last: Part Two
âIâm gonna fuck the glasses off your face tonight. Okay?âÂ
A simple sentence. No fanfare. No lingering touch or a suggestive look. Not even a repeat of his matter-of-fact declaration despite the words nearly being lost to the pockets of conversation in Coreyâs kitchen during a rowdier than usual Friendsgiving gathering. Terry calmly whispered the plain statement into Patriceâs ear as he passed by on the way out of the door to join the other men in the backyard.Â
Patrice tried to appear unphased while she sipped from her plastic cup of white wine. âNow?â
âIâll let you know.âÂ
Heâd made up his mind to have her babbling incoherent sentences while he bent her over the living room couch before they could make it out of the house, but holding in his little secret had proven difficult. Terry wished he could blame it on the tequila shots or the haze of weed smoke blown out of mouths far too federally employed to still be dabbling with the plant. Either would be an acceptable lie because the truth was too trivial to share. It was the North Carolina A&T crew neck and black cat-eye glasses Patrice had chosen to sport for the night. His mind dreamt up all the times heâd missed her studying for exams in the sweater a hair too large, and glasses that made her look like a professor during office hours while she bounced around the room making small talk with people he hardly recognized. His social butterfly moving her lips a mile a minute when all he wanted to do was feel those lips on every square inch of his body.
Terry needed her in the worst way. The bathroom mightâve sufficed. Maybe even the backseat of his truck. But neither option provided the sound insulation he needed to fulfill his raging desire. Heâd need the privacy of their home and a TV turned all the way up to avoid disturbing the neighbors.Â
The signal to leave came with a quick tap on Patriceâs hip in the middle of a spirited talk with her best friend, Vicky, about something he couldnât care less about.Â
âI guess thatâs my cue, girl,â Patrice laughed, trying to play her role as the chatty wife being called away by her quiet husband. âTalk to you later?âÂ
Their exit featured hurried goodbyes and promises to return for the Christmas game night that they likely wouldnât remember come daylight. Hands fumbled with keyfobs and door handles in their mad dash to somewhere a little more secluded. Blue lights from the dashboard reflected from Patriceâs glasses as they made out in front of their childhood friendâs house like maniacs, too intoxicated with lust to care if someone saw them from the open front door.Â
One hand on the steering and the other middle and ring fingers deep in warm pussy had Terry breaking speed limits and running stop signs to turn a twenty-minute journey into ten if he were lucky.Â
They didnât waste time with light switches or picking up discarded clothing on the clumsy journey to the bedroom. A split second of clarity told Terry to flip on the lamp as Patrice made the descent to his dick one sloppy kiss on his chest and stomach at a time.Â
âWhat you got for me?âÂ
More than heâd bargained for shouldâve been the answer had she taken the time to use her mouth for anything more than making his muscled thighs tense like heâd been tased.Â
With a pillow folded between her legs while she lay on her stomach and eyes looking up at Terry over the rim of her spectacles, Patrice put on an oral demonstration fit for a professional. Her glasses fogged from the cold air and steamy situation unfolding on their marital bed.Â
The corners of her mouth stinging from the stretch of him and the ache building in her core kept her tethered to reality when she wanted to escape into the pleasure of seeing her man so vulnerable from her touch.Â
He hissed and cursed as she ran a flat tongue on the underside of his dick. âFuck, girl. I knew Iâd get all of this up out you one day. DamnâŚâÂ
Gobbsmacked. Astounded. Sucked into oblivion. Terry had transcended time and space once Patrice made a home for him at the back of her throat over and over again. Spit coated her hands, chin, and his lap while she focused on leaving him too stupefied to utter anything that had more than one syllable. She couldâve swiped every dollar from his wallet, bank account, and retirement fund and heâd still thank her for inviting him into her mouth.Â
Low groans and rough requests for more sounded like applause as Patrice went to work on her lover. His approach to the mountaintop matched hers as she desperately searched for friction from the pillow below her.Â
âHell yeah, like that, baby. You know what you doinâ. Shit.â Praise came in heeps. Her silk press had long turned into reigns for Terry to keep her head stable. Tears mixed with saliva for extra lubrication. She looked gorgeous under amber light to her husband.Â
Up and down, up and down. Take it. Gargle it down. Breathe through your nose. Looping mantras played in her head as he took control to finish what sheâd started. Â
His release came in a photo finish. His toes curled from pure ecstasy. Body seized up in beautiful suspension, each bulging muscle in his arms and torso on display. Head thrown back to direct his loud moan to the ceiling. Eyeballs rolled behind fluttering lids. Kids drained down the hatch, never to reach their full potential.Â
She cleaned up the remnants with her tongue, splitting her attention between Terry and the building orgasm as she swiveled her hips against firm cotton. He stared down at her, taking in the way her jaw dropped to form that âoâ he loved so much. Her brow furrowed once her teeth took hold of her bottom lip.Â
âThat feel good to you, baby?âÂ
âMhmm.â Patrice tried to give a more accurate description of her mind state. All she could manage was a slurred hum in the affirmative while he watched her unravel at the seams without his help.Â
âShow me. I wanna watch.âÂ
And watch he did. Dick in hand and back pressed against the headboard, Terry used his refractory period to watch Patrice turn his pillow into her personal fuck toy. Her hips bucked slowly under his attention while she searched for her first eruption.Â
His stroke matched her movements blow for blow while she admired her lone audience member. Siren eyes and a confident smirk, hands kneading bountiful breasts, and his name rolling from her lips kept him engrossed in her one-woman show.Â
The inevitable approached like a crashing wave against a calm shore. âLet me cum for you, Terrence. Can I do that? Tell me.âÂ
Patrice knew the trouble sheâd started. Using his first name, and asking for permission, it was all to elicit the reaction Terry so eagerly provided. He scrambled to his knees for the chance to hover over her with his forehead pressed so tightly against hers that they shared pools of sweat.Â
Intense blue-green eyes peered down at her, wordlessly edging her closer to paradise.Â
âNuh uh, eyes up here,â Patrice instructed when the view of quaking thighs and waxed lower lips became too distracting for Terry. âTell me when, my love. Iâm all yours.âÂ
Her voice climbed, sounding like a symphony to his ears. He waited and watched until she met the brink of too much stimulation. âNow. Right now.âÂ
A rush of emotions forever intertwining two bodies flowed between them through a kiss dominated by silky tongues and Patriceâs swallowed mewls. Terry had perfected the art of kissing. Knowing when to suck at her bottom lip, when to wrap his large hand around Patriceâs throat to keep her head angled upward, and when to pull away for other pursuits.Â
Normally, hickeys were childish evidence of adult activities, but tonight they were trophies for a job well done.Â
âI love you so much.â Even in furious fucking where feelings took a backseat to more carnal desires, Terry refused to miss an opportunity to utter his favorite phrase. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, letting his tongue trace the outline of her areola to his heartâs content before pulling away to show the other the same attention. He listened to her sigh and smiled. âI love the way you sound.âÂ
âWhat else?âÂ
A lick up her sternum before a kiss. âI love the way you say my name.âÂ
âYeah?âÂ
âI love your body. Youâre perfect.â An open-mouthed kiss at the base of her neck as he gripped her waist. âI love the way you take dick. Especially tonight. Think you can take some more for me, pretty?â
Like a magnet, Terryâs fingers found their way to Patriceâs slick inner lips as he gathered wetness to drag skilled digits around her clit. Her breath audibly hitched from the contact, making him chuckle with his lips pressed against her cheek. Slow circles, maddeningly slow and gentle enough to feel like nothing at all had her willing to agree to just about anything to get off.
âWhatever you say, baby.â
Terry didnât say much. It wasnât his nature. Only short, honey-sweet directions for Patrice to press her chest to crumpled sheets and spread her knees wide. He made it so easy to comply. So easy to contort herself into any position he wanted because she knew what awaited her on the other side.Â
He had her at his mercy. Her sat ass high up in the air with her flower on display from a gloriously deep arch. Terry felt an animalistic switch flip to remind him of his promise. Pupils dilated and reinvigorated by the lewd image manifesting at his fingertip, he went to work.Â
A relentless pounding. Punishing strokes that made the bed creak from the stress of it all. The sheer force knocked Patriceâs glasses askew without an opportunity for adjustment. She could only claw at the foot of the bed and push her hips back into his to match the rhythm.Â
The sound of smacking skin and mixed moans created a soundtrack for rabid, desperate fucking. His thumbs left impressions on the delicate skin of her back, turning his knuckles white as he dug deeper.Â
Patrice took every inch like only she could, earning a rough smack as appreciation.Â
âThatâs my girl,â Terry gritted through clenched teeth. âStay with me. I feel you.âÂ
It was all too much. The angle. The vision of Terryâs chest clenching and releasing for exertion as Patrice looked back at him. The way his brows knitted in concentration. The scent of his cologne wafted with every move. His tattoos glistened under dim lights.
âOh my God!âÂ
Early sparks of a white-hot release turned Patrice into putty, forcing Terry to hold her close.Â
One hand between her legs and the other putting soft pressure on the sides of her neck kept Patrice and Terry tethered on their quest for joint waves.
âI love you.âÂ
âI need you.âÂ
âYou feel so good inside me.âÂ
âKiss me. Please.â
âCum for me.â
Terry sank his teeth into Patriceâs shoulder as she clenched around him, no longer able to contain himself as she clenched around him. Shared euphoria. A once in a blue moon experience that neither of them had encountered.Â
Moans became indistinguishable. Eyelids clamped shut as hips sputtered. Glasses tumbled from the bed to the floor, having served their purpose. Bodies wrapped themselves around the other until they were spent, toppled over, and basking in the feel of each other.Â
âGood job, baby.â Terry praised, his voice soothing her mind while his hands rubbed the peaks and valleys of Patriceâs hips and thighs while they lay on their sides. He couldnât bring himself to pull out, too engrossed in the subtle aftershocks deep inside her body. âYou okay? Talk to me.â
Patrice breathed out a delirious laugh as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. âI canât see! I canât believe you fucked me blind. Youâre insane.âÂ
âHow much time you got tonight? I got some shit I been wanting to do to you for a long time.âÂ
âLike what?âÂ
Whispers of new positions and marathon lovemaking made the hairs on her arms stand at attention. A second promise had entered the mix.Â
Theyâd make a baby or spend the rest of the night and into the morning trying.Â
---
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future content.
TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown
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Jungkook fic recs
these are my favorite fics on this app, some make me laugh and kick my feet, some make me wet my panties, there are also some that make my tummy hurts but not much because i'm weak and can't stand angsty fics:(
enjoy<3
i'm going to start with my favorite writers, i actually like all of their works (go take a look at them) but the ones on this list have a special place in my heart</3
@girlygguk <3
-no in that way-| a s f | one-shot
in which you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, min yoongi. meanwhile, your other best friend, jeon jungkook, is hopelessly in love with you.
-needy-| s f a | series
hiding his feelings when you didnât even know his name was hard. hiding his neediness and obsession when you finally did know his name and you were his fucking girlfriend? impossible. well, then it's a good thing you like him needy.
-denial- | f s a | series
you and jungkook both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's mad.
-first class- | f s a | one-shot
in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.
@awrkive <3
-cold nights and blurred lines- | f s | one-shot
jungkook and you have been keeping a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and itâs casual for the most part. but as time passes, you canât help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a clichĂŠ to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.
-the love prognosis- | a f s | series
for as long as you can remember, youâve always been a hopeless romantic.
the girl whoâs always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesnât come grand â itâs simple and itâs quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that youâve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.
@springalwayscomes <3
-closer- | f a s | series
To have each other close is something that you both always wanted, in a way or another. Itâs just that⌠close is not close enough anymore for Jungkook.
@hoseoksluna <3
-wine- | s a f | series
both of you have a party to go to, but jungkook makes you needy again.
@noteguk <3
-bad influence- | s a f | series
in which you know Jungkook is a bad influence on you, but you canât avoid falling for him every time.
@gukslut <3
-cream & sugar- | s f a | series
stepping into this coffee shop was either the best or the worst idea of your life. You know that barista, you know heâs great in bed. You also know heâs the biggest asshole youâve ever met.
-every kinda way- | s f | one-shot
three little vignettes, three completely different experiences, same perfectly wonderful boyfriend JK.
-the jorts- | s f | series
jorts, you, jk, love, lol.
more (very good) fics from different writers:)
-the lucky one- | a s f | series-ongoing by @babystrcandy <3
growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.
-cable management- | s c f | series by @19pancakes <3
your job is more hassle than itâs worth. Horrible layouts, even worse cable management and to top it all off... Thereâs extremely rude (and hot and weirdly cool?) men staring at your ass in the hallway. Youâre also hungry.
english it is not my first language (maybe you noticed, lol) sorry in advance if there are any mistakes:b
I will add more over time, bye. xoxo
#jungkook smut#jungkooksmut#jungkook angst#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fluff
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ok guys I am SO MAD so here's a rant sorry for any mistakes bc i am MAD
so I was scrolling tiktok and I saw this
SO THIS IS ACTUALLY INSANE
yes armand did wrong things I AM NOT DENYING THAT in fact IN THE BOOKS HE DID WORSE BUT he's not the evil guy the tiktok series only fans are making him out to be he's not the wolf in sheep's clothing BUT A VERY TRAUMATIZED AND EVIL SHEEP
he survived KIDNAPPING SEXUAL ABUSE SEXUAL SLAVERY PEDOPHILIA ABUSE RELATIONSHIP KIDNAPPING AGAIN BRAINWASHING AND BEING PART OF A CULT if I was him I WOULD BE WORSE
but the worst part isn't about armand IT IS ABOUT LESTAT
LESTAT THE LIONCOURT IS NOT AN ANGEL
the fact that people are FORGETTING EVERYTHING LESTAT DID TO LOUIS AND CLAUDIA IS INSANE
CRIMES HE DID ON THE SHOW
- kill many people (all of vamps do that so ignoring this one)
- domestic abuser
- toxic father
- throwing louis off the SKY
- beating the shit out of claudia
- cheating on louis MULTIPLE TIMES
- and the biggest crime for me, THE LACK OF EMPATHY FOR LOUIS AND CLAUDIAS FEELINGS
now the things ON THE BOOKS
- rape (yeah this actually happened)
- sexual harrasment
- turning a guy into a vampire against his will
- traumatizing many innocents just because
- being best friends with an pedophile and lover with another
there are more things but I am so angry I can't think
honestly the reason yall actually hate armand that much is because he isn't white. there I said it
so armand does bad things to louis and claudia and he's the villian but lestat does bad things as well and HES THE HERO? HES THE POOR MEOW MEOW????
that has a name and that's RACISM
if you only take a brown man accountable and not a white man? I will raise and eyebrow
also HAVE WE WATCHED THE SAME SHOW?
and you know that person's defense?????? "LESTAT DIDNT KILL CLAUDIA"
BUT IN THE BOOKS HES CONSTANTLY HAUNTED BY HER BECAUSE HE TOLD ARMAND THAT CLAUDIA WAS THE ONLY PERSON GUILTY OF TRYING TO ASSASSINATE HIM
THAT MAN ONLY CARED ABOUT LOUIS. YALL PUT ARMAND ON FIRE ABOUT NOT CARING ABOUT HER WHEN LESTAT DID THE SAME
I will stop because I'm so mad but anyways I think you got my point
#guys people with no understanding of what they watched are the bane of my existence#iwtv#interview with the vampire#the vampire chronicles#armand#lestat de lioncourt#amc iwtv#iwtv amc
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I'm slowly losing it istg.... HAKJSDFH
Anyway, this sem has been the far most insane one I've had yet .___. Trying my damn best to keep my grades up because stuff ain't looking pretty so far ;-;
Hell no have I abandoned this fic >:'>> Tho if worse comes to worst, I might just update during the Christmas break T-T Chapter 17 is halfway written (got chopped off from progress coz school started that time ;-;) And y'all will know it's updated once you see the cover art here, along with some format cleanups both here and on ao3 ;w;
In the meantime, have some concept art, these are very much beta designs but yah XD They'll somewhat appear in the next chapter :3
Won't say who's who just yet, but they were first mentioned in Chapter 9: "Cleaning Up Messes" :>
AGAIN SO SORRY IT'S BEEN MONTHS, EVERY WEEK IS JUST ABSOLUTE MADNESS ;-;;;;;
Stay tuned! ;w;
Also some random content...
First time EVER trying to make an animatic. Not part of the fic, just an AU where King and Papa Titan actually meet!! ;w; Don't really know how to explain it myself, I was just taking a break and seeing if I could rotate characters and whatever lmao (and it's too based on Gigi's animatic coz I didn't storyboard aksjdfhkj). But the big rip on PT's shirt is meant to be caused by Belos' mold or sumthn idk XD
Might change a lot of things when the official song drops, but the fic is still the priority ;w;
SEE Y'ALL! *goes back to suffering*
#the owl house#owl house#toh#king clawthorne#the collector#toh the collector#toh the archivists#toh titans#toh titan oc#oc art#my art#platinum bones#the owl house fanfiction#toh fanfic#toh fanart#toh forbidden friendship#i just wanna pass this sem like pls kjashdfkjh#short animatic#TOH x EPIC crossover#crossover#epic the musical#epic#the archivists#papa titan
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So hereâs the thing. News stations love to sensationalize the orange man for money. If you werenât politically aware during his first term I have a few tips to help your wellbeing till 2028:
Do not engage with news media after 8pm. Nothing you learn then will help you before the next morning. Youâll just go to bed anxious and mad
Youâre gonna see the worst possible people nominated to head diff parts of the govt. Understand thatâs the point, to set everything in favor of corps, internalize that feeling and remember it for the next election, and move on. Dwelling on it only serves to hurt yourself
Learn to sit in uncertainty. Last term the orange man would tweet policy and expect it to manifest. This led to people never knowing if he was talking big game or passing legislation, so people did not know how the government was going to act. Chill. We donât know what will happen.
Curate your social media experience, do not follow algorithms. Algorithms need you hooked and its easier to keep you hooked if youâre miserable. Be purposeful when you engage with political content, donât do it on a whim
You are not responsible for the ailings of the world. Donât put that on yourself. And donât put it on yourself to keep up with every single wrongdoing about to happen. There will be far too many for one person to keep up with, youâll exhaust yourself and make yourself miserable
Chill. Its not gonna be fun, but there are ways you can take care of your own well being to keep from spiraling.
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Restoration AU: Ned I
Previous part, Bran I, here.
NED 1
Ned was embroiled in discussions with Vayon regarding the additional food stores that would need to be procured to feast the kingâs party in accordance with his expectationsâand Robertâs expectations certainly tended toward the lavishâwhen Jory burst into his solar, looking so rattled that Ned rose in alarm, convinced that something had happened to one of the children.
âMy lord,â he said. âThere areâthat is, your son, Branââ
Before Ned could fear the worst, he caught motion beyond the door frame, and his gaze fell upon the auburn hair of his second-youngest as he poked his head in the door. Robb and Jon had also accompanied Jory, trailing just behind, and they looked as perturbed as his captain of the guard. Robbâs mouth was a hard, harsh line that recalled Cat when she was in full fury, and Jon looked as pale as the direwolf pup heâd named Ghost.
His nerves settled on mild apprehension. âWhat is it, Jory?â
Jory cast a hesitant look at Vayon. âIt is a matter that my lord may wish to discuss in private.â
Ned frowned. Jory and Vayon had known one another for several years now. Enough for his captain and steward to know that he held both of them in high esteem. He was unsure what it meant that Jory should be wary of the man now, but it could be nothing good.
âWe can finish attending to the feast preparations later, Vayon,â Ned said. âIt seems my sons have found themselves a spot of mischief.â
Robbâs eyes narrowed, further mystifying Ned. His steward inclined his head, then took his leave, and the children crowded into his solar. But rather than just the three he had expected, two more entered behind Robb and Jon, furs wrapped around either of them, and Joryâs own cloak atop that.
Nedâs mouth, which had opened to demand answers of his captain and his son, snapped shut as his gaze fell upon the two strange children, his wits abandoning him for several blank seconds. One, with hair but a shade or two lighter than his own, returned his stare with a wariness that wavered as it went on, taking on the faint sheen of tears. His face was as familiar as his own, as alike to Jonâs as a brotherâs would be.
It cannot be.
It was the other childâs appearance, however, that lanced through his shock, turning it icy with dread. Rhaegar Targaryen was fourteen years dead, but Ned had known the princeâs face well, for it had haunted more than a few nightmares since, he and Lyanna both. This child could be the princeâs sonâa comparison driven home as Ned glanced from one to the other, finding as many similarities between them as they shared with Jon.
Brothers. They must be, of nearly identical height and build. Twins, perhaps, except that one could be his son, while the otherâ
How? The children looked to be of an age with his daughters, meaning Rhaegar would have been four or five years dead by the time they were born. Ned himself had seen the mangled skull of his infant son, Aegon, and had the boy lived, he would have been Jonâs age.
And yet that is what they look like. Rhaegarâs sons, four years too young. The son whose death Robert celebrated, and the son whose death he would seek, if he only knew.
As he studied the dark-haired child more closely, subtle differences presented themselves between him and Jon. His eyes were a lighter grey that took on a tinge of purple the longer Ned stared into them, recalling the terror of the first few months of Jonâs life, before his own had darkened to a deep grey. His hair was a shade lighter, its dark brown slightly warmer.
And yet none of that mattered. The Valyrian coloring that House Targaryen had been known for was not uncommon in the Free Cities, but anyone who had ever seen the mad king or his wife and son would recognize their blood in these children. The other childâs coloring would all but invite such comparisons, and there was no greater danger. They could easily be siblings, the three of them.
It cannot be Aerys, nor can it be Rhaegar. Could Rhaella have lived after all to follow her children into hiding? Her remains had been cremated in accordance with Targaryen tradition by the time Dragonstone had been taken. Died in childbed, they had been told. Any whispers of the exiled queenâs survival surely would have made it to their shores.
Yet it was the only possible explanation. Any child of Rhaellaâs would look like her slain son. But why would they be here? Why now, as Robert openly travels to Winterfell?
âWe found them on the outskirts of the wolfswood, half frozen,â Jory said, breaking the tense silence. âYoung Bran spotted them.â
The children were both shivering, Ned realized at last. He managed a smile at his youngest. âBran, lad, go see if Gage has any soup onâsomething hot for our guests.â
Disappointment flashed across his sonâs face, his curiosity readily apparent, but he cast the two boys a sympathetic look and swallowed his protest. âYes, Father. I shall bring it myself!â
Once he had gone, Ned turned back to the children. âI am Lord Stark,â he said, keeping his voice low and gentle. âAnd you are in Castle Winterfell. Who might you be?â
âIs it not plain, Father?â Robb snapped, tensed as though for a fight. âThere is no need to make a farce of it, now that youâve sent Bran away.â
Ned sucked in a breath, feeling a fool as comprehension struck. Joryâs obvious discomfort, Robbâs fury, Jonâs quiet shockâ
They think that I�
Ned stared into his sonâs eyes, finding shock and betrayal beneath the anger. A mirthless chuckle rose in his chest and he forced it down. Why should they not, after all? He had soiled his honor once in claiming Jon as his son. The appearance of two children on the outskirts of Winterfell who looked to be his bastard sonâs younger brothers offered one obvious explanation.
Denial followed his stalled laughter, smothered just as quickly in the wake of another realization. Deny their relation, and Jonâs apparent kinship to two children of Targaryen features would invite all the questions Ned had feared in the first few years of his sonâs life. Why would a boy with no relation to House Targaryen look like one of their long-dead scions?
Suspicious minds would turn to his sister and the man who had kidnapped her. The timing of Jonâs appearance, the fact that Ned had been the one to find her in the Tower of Joy, it would all point to a deadly truthâa treason that Robert would never forgive.
Unless there was another explanation. One that Jory and both of his sons had clearly seized upon, one that would all but guarantee Jonâs safety.
If they were my own bastard sons, Jonâs brothersâŚ
Then there was no possible relation between Jon and Rhaegar Targaryen. How could there be? His brothers would have been born years after the princeâs death, their mother some woman from Lys, perhaps, with the silver-blond hair and purple eyes of Valyria that were so prized in that city. No one would look for House Targaryen in them, if House Stark offered an excuse for their shared resemblance.
To protect Jon, his only option might be to stain his honor beyond recognition. To flaunt these children, as though he had nothing to hide.
âLeave us,â Ned said. âI would speak to these children alone.â
Robbâs face reddened, his sonâs outrage whipped to a frenzy. âI will notââ
âThat is your lordâs command,â Ned said, unable to keep the edge from his voice. âGo. I will speak to you later.â
His sonâs fists clenched, the hurt swimming beneath his anger plain, but he gave a stiff nod. âCome, Snow,â he said to his brother.
Stark, Snow. Names that his sons had taken to calling one another in the past year as they neared manhood, the growing understanding of their differing circumstances wedging itself between them. The names were not spoken unkindly, but Ned caught the barest flinch on Jonâs face this time.
Jory was the last to leave, pausing by the door. âWe returned through the Hunterâs Gate, my lord, but we ran across Theon on our way to the keep.â
Ned nodded tersely in understanding. His ward was loud of mouth and held no fondness for Jon. If he too had concluded that the boys were Jonâs bastard brothers, then word would spread quickly through Winterfell. It would reach Cat soon enough, if Robb had not gone to tell her himself, and Nedâs heart clenched. As keen as Robbâs pain and betrayal had been, his wifeâs suffering would be far worse.
But the children in the room with him now were a more immediate concern. Ned approached them slowly, testing their reaction. Jonâs young twin had lost none of his earlier wariness, though he did not appear to be frightened of him. And the other child regarded him with a quiet curiosity that was entirely Jonâs.
They are so like him.Â
âI am Lord Eddard Stark,â he said again. âWhat are your names?â
âI am Jon,â said the dark-haired one, and it was all Ned could do not to react. âAnd this is my twin brother, Raymar.â
Jon and Raymar. Vale names, both, which was no less puzzling than anything else about them. Ned doubted that Rhaella Targaryen had been hiding herself or her sons in the Vale, which had practically served as the heart of the rebellion against her familyâs rule.
âWe thank you for your houseâs kindness, Lord Stark,â Raymar said with a bow of his head.
Neither seemed uncomfortable in the presence of a lord, let alone the Warden of the North. Their composure spoke to an upbringing a highborn child would have.
âAnd to which house do you belong?â Ned asked, curious if they would answer plainly.
Young Jon shifted slightly to put himself between his brother and Ned, and the twins exchanged an uneasy look that as good as answered his question.
âI would know your true names,â Ned said, keeping his voice gentle. âNo harm will come to you.â
Even the way this Jon bit at the inside of his lip was so reminiscent of his own Jon that Ned felt freshly unnerved. âI am Baelon,â he said finally. âAnd he is Aemon.â
It took him a moment to place the names. Sons of Jaehaerys I. Perhaps Rhaella had wanted to cling to a time in her familyâs history when they had been at the height of their power, though these names in particular bore an ill omen. Two heirs to the Iron Throne, both of whom had died before they could claim itânot unlike her firstborn.
Good men, though. That had been their legacy, the princes who should have ruled, rather than the king whose reign had ultimately led to the Targaryens turning on one another, dooming their dragons.
âWhy have you come here?â
That was the question upon which everything hinged. Were they a message to Ned? A threat? Had Rhaella learned of her grandsonâs fate? But he could not imagine what madness could have taken her to send two young children here to deliver such a message, especially when it could so easily be interpreted as a threat.
âWe did not come here by choice, my lord,â Aemon said. âWe were taken from our father.â
Ned had been so focused upon their Targaryen heritage that he had not even considered who their father might be. âWhat is your fatherâs name?â
The children exchanged another glance, and it was Baelon who spoke. âDaemon.â
Ned could not hide his reaction this time. With Maelys the Monstrousâs death, the Blackfyre line had been thought to be ended at last. The male line, at least. Could there have been a descendent willing to tie himself to the exiled House Targaryen? The benefit for Rhaella Targaryen was plain: the Golden Company was said to be ten-thousand strong and of impeccable disciplineâthe closest to an army one could hope to hire, as sellswords went.
Rhaella Targaryen gives them the legitimacy they desire, and they offer her the start of an army. And yetâcould such an alliance have been formed without whispers eventually reaching Robertâs ears?
And if someone had kidnapped her two sons, the joining of House Blackfyre and Targaryen, then that spoke to yet another plot. Someone who opposed their ambitions?
Someone who also knew, or had guessed, the true circumstances of Jonâs birth?
I am as much a pawn in this game as these children are, Ned thought grimly. As Jon now was.
âWhat can you tell me about your captors?â he asked.
âWe were bound and blinded at first,â Aemon said. âAnd later made to drink a concoction that ushered us to sleep.â
Dreamwine, mostly like. Or even milk of the poppy. âYou remember nothing at all?â
The child shook his head, distress creeping into his voice. âWe were with our father and then we were here, alone in the cold and snow.â
âAnd your mother?â Ned asked, because he had to be sure.
Sorrow settled over them, keenest in Aemon, whose brother answered for them. âDead.â
Ned watched them carefully. âRhaella?â
Aemonâs gaze snapped to his, widening in surprise before the child could compose himself. His brother squeezed his hand and gave a silent nod.
Dead. That both simplified and complicated matters, though Ned was not certain precisely how. It made their kidnapping all the more mysterious in its purpose. A power struggle between the queenâs surviving children, perhaps? If her eldest, Viserys, feared that the Golden Company would support their claim over his, due to whatever Blackfyre blood might flow in their veins, then sending them away might have been his answer.
Sending them here could yet be a threat against Jon, or simple coincidence.
A rap at the door startled all three of them, and Ned gestured at them to remain still as he answered it. It was Jory once more, bearing a tray of stew and bread. Apparently Bran had insisted on bringing it himself, but the captain had intercepted the heavy load, judging it best that he take it up instead. Ned nodded his thanks, and brought the tray back into his solar.
âHere,â Ned said, setting it down on the table and beckoning the children over. âYou must be hungry.â
Baelon broke off a piece of the bread, handing it to his brother first, then taking a bite of his own. He seemed to relax then. They have been raised to know our customs, at least, Ned thought. Though it pained him that the child had feared they might have been harmed.
Stolen away from their family and abandoned in the snow-covered fields outside the wolfswood, in the heart of a kingdom loyal to the man who had killed their kin, and would gladly see their house erased, down to the last child. That they had remained this composed in his presence was a sign of either great bravery or misunderstanding of the danger they were in.
And given how wary Baelon had been since their arrival, Ned suspected they both knew precisely how much danger they were inâto the point of fabricating names for themselves.
The stew put some color in their cheeks, and the fire had warmed them enough that they were no longer shivering. Ned, who had taken a seat opposite them, fought the urge to sag back against his chair as the throbbing pressure of a headache formed at his temples.
âYou seem to understand that you cannot be Baelon and Aemon here,â Ned said once theyâd finished their stew and sopped up the remnants with the last of the bread. Both children nodded. âI can protect you until I have found a way to return you home, but until then, I shall require your cooperation.â
They looked to one another once more, but seemed in agreement. âWhat do you require of us?â Aemon asked.
âYou are Raymar,â Ned said. He glanced at Baelon, unnerved yet again at how like his son he looked as he studied Ned back. âYou cannot be Jon, as I already have a son named Jon.â
The children blinked in twin surprise, seeming to immediately grasp his intention. âWillam,â Baelon said. âI can be Willam, my lord.â
Another name favored in the Vale, though not uncommon elsewhere. âThat is acceptable,â Ned said. Then he took a deep breath. âAnd you must call me Father.â
x~x~x
Okay but my favorite thing is that Ned giving two more of his bastards Vale names is so very recognizably him, even though he didn't suggest either name to them!
Which POV to write next? Decisions, decisions...
#resonant 'verse restoration au#ned embracing the chaos because what other choice does he have#sometimes the best defense is a good offense#and what an offense...
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Whispers in the Dark
âAndâI dunno. Theyâre barking mad but I love them. Iâm an only child so I imagine you understand now why Iâm like this.â He makes a rare self-deprecating gesture towards himself, something the James from a year ago would never have done. It makes Lily break into a real laugh. âAnd this,â Lily mirrors his gesture, âmeaningâŚâ James grins, and it does something downright delectable to her heart. âThis meaning an arrogant git who is too thick to notice other peopleâs personal lives.âÂ
When Lily is awarded her prefect badge in fifth year, they warn her that James Potter has a talent for disappearing. But if that's true, why does he keep coming to her night after night, hoping to be caught? Oneshot, Rated T--- AO3 Link Here
Fifth YearÂ
By the time Lily was awarded her badge, James Potter was already bestowed a nickname among the prefects: The Shadow.Â
âDonât you think that's a bit too ominous for a git who just mucks around all night?â Next to her, Remus snorts but keeps his eyes low.Â
âYou wonât understand until you have your first patrolâit's like he justâŚdisappears.â The way the Head Boy says it, it makes James sound like some sort of spectre plaguing the corridors, not some untidy haired knob trying to explode the toilets. Lilyâs eyes sink as Remus covers a cough that suspiciously sounds like a laugh.Â
âCare to elaborate on your mate then, Remus?â She flashes him an innocent smile. Even under the newfound pressure he doesnât straighten, rather pulling a pack of muggle cigarettes out of his cloak and tapping it on his knee.Â
âNothing to say,â Remus replies cooly, shooting Lily an equally saccharine grin, âjust that you better hope he never hears about his little nickname if you donât want him to be even more incorrigible.â
âWhy? I thought you boys dug little nicknames.â She narrows her eyes, accepting the challenge to get him to respond with anything other than collected nonchalance.Â
âTrust me on this oneâhe will be unbearable.â
* * * * *
The worst part of it all is that the senior prefects werenât wrong, he really would just be there.Â
âAlright Evans?âÂ
She whips around, wand already poised. The corridors leading to the dungeons are more shadowed than the rest of the school, but her eyes have already adjusted to the dark and from what she can tell, she is alone.Â
âPotterâIâm not in the mood.âÂ
Thereâs a shuffle and she hears a boy's voice murmur âwhen is she everâ before a round of clipped laughs trickle in the darkness. She turns again, trying to find the source.Â
âYou gitsâI know you are here and I'll give you detention whether I can see you or not.â
She turns again and lets out a small gasp. James stands at the far reaches of her wand light, eyes dancing with mirth behind the reflection of his glasses.Â
âCongratulations on the ahâŚpromotion,â he grins and she feels the bristle of anger pull at the hair on her neck.Â
She wants to prove herself as the only muggleborn prefectâand what better way than to catch this so-called Shadow. She takes a cautious step forward, worried he will skitter away like a wild animal if she moves too quickly. James just continues to grin, a hand grasping something shimmery behind his back.Â
âYouâre not supposed to be out.â She takes another step and he eyes her warily.Â
âOh, is that right?â He makes a show of looking around, brow furrowed in confusion. âWowâsorry about that! Guess I got the time confused.â Another round of muffled laughter comes from behind him.
âCâmon, Iâm escorting you back to the tower.â She moves to grab his arm but he jumps backwards, running into something that she canât see but an oof and hey! ring out from the shadows.Â
âAs much as Iâd love a romantic stroll with you Evans, Iâm actually late to another engagement,â he tuts, his smile turning into a sly grin. The hand that has been behind his back lifts up and a portion of his arm disappears, then the rest of his body until his face hovers completely detached in the dark.Â
âRaincheck though?â His grin hangs in the air for a second longer before the darkness takes him, but his presence still lingers. Nothing remains but the cold feeling of being watched.Â
* * * * *
Sheâs still not used to it. The random appearances, the floating grins, the whispers in the dark which make her feel like she is living in a rabbit hole rather than a castle. Itâs no wonder the prefects leave catching him up to Filch these daysâhe haunts them.Â
âHey Evansââ
She hopes that wherever he is hiding, he doesnât see her jump. Turning towards the sound of his voice, he appears just a couple of steps away, hand already running through his hair.Â
âIâll make you a deal Potter, if you fuck off and donât talk to me, I wonât give you detention.â
She expects him to consider it, but he doesnât. His eyes are missing the glimmer they usually have when she runs into him at night. Instead, he keeps his head bowed, a frown weighing down his features.Â
âI came to talkâŚto apologize for today.â
She doesnât want to hear it. Turning on her heel she stalks off in the other direction but he catches up easily.Â
âI donât want some fake apology. I want you to leave me alone.â
Of course he doesnât listen. He keeps her stride, angling his face to catch her eyes with his.
âItâs not fakeâI really am sorry,â he gasps out, â I was a git and never expected for SniveâSnape to say those things about youâ.â
She stops dead in her tracks, her whole body contracting in anger.Â
âSorry? Are you sorry for all the other times you have bullied him too? Sorry for all the other shite you do to everyone around you? I donât want your apology from you or from himâand I especially donât want to rehash it with you right now.â
James doesnât coil back, eyeing her with a brooding pain that feels out of place on his features.
âI know he was your friend. He shouldnât say those things to youâfriends donât do that.â
It catches her off guard. She certainly isnât looking for friendship advice from Potter, but he also has hit the nerve thatâs been plaguing her all day.Â
âI know Iâm an arseholeâespecially to Snape...but Iâd never say something like that to my matesâŚor to you.â
Her eyes start to sting but the thought of crying in front of him feels like the most incorrigible thing that could possibly happen. She jerks away, stumbling in the direction they had come from.Â
âLeave me aloneâplease.â
He doesnât follow her like last time and she forces herself forward, rubbing the tears from her eyes. At the end of the corridor, she turns around, expecting to see him standing where she left him and some sick part of her hopes for it. But he has listened for once: he is goneâactually gone.Â
* * * * *
She wishes she could disappear as easily as he could right about now.Â
âUhm⌠Evans?â James leans against the trophy case, a wet rag hanging at his side on his pointer finger.Â
She calculates the possibility of turning around and pretending she never entered. Zero to none. On the table, a detention slip sits idly. A scratchy hand reads:
James Potter, Gryffindor, 5th year
Offense: Hexing and physical altercation with Slytherin boys ( 5th and 6th years)
Punishment: Trophy polishingâ2 hours
She sighs, placing the paper down and settling her bag on the floor. âFilch is out dealing with a hinkypunkâIâm surveilling tonight.â She doesnât look at him, crossing her arms tightly against her chest. âSo, go onâIâm told you have some trophies to polish.â
Jamesâ eyes remain wide as he nods, turning back to the case. With his back to her, she steals a moment to take him inâhis shoulders are squared and there is something more wooden about his movements than she remembers. They havenât spoken since she told him to leave her alone and she wonders if thatâs the reason she hasnât been seeing him as often. She hates to admit it, but patrols have become boring without him.Â
Too busy deciphering his body language, she doesnât catch him pulling his wand out of his pocket. With one swish, all the trophies gleam.Â
âHey! Thatâs not the punishment.â
 He turns, an eyebrow cocked upwards. âYes it is, you said to polish the trophies⌠So I did.âÂ
Arrogant little shit. She hates when heâs rightâwhich unfortunately is more often than she wants to admit. She sits on the ground and starts to fish through her bag, pulling out a transfiguration textbook and a parchment.
âFine, fine. Then just be quiet over thereâI have to get this essay finished.â
But sheâs a fool to think that he will follow directions. He makes it about thirty seconds before he is up off the ground, coming to lean down and read over her shoulder with his head tilted downwards.
âItâs pretty good so far but you mis-characterized the difference between illusionment and deflection charms.â
She looks up with an insult already poised on her lips but is stopped short by the proximity of his face. Leaning down, his glasses are slipping off and she can see a small bruise blooming on his cheekbone just under his rims.
âDid a Slytherin give you that?âÂ
He pokes at the bruise curiously, also just noticing it.Â
âAh bugger.â He sits down next to her, splaying his legs in front of him while leaning on his hands. âMulciberâs work I think. Heâs fine at dueling but shite at punchingâsurprised he even got a decent hit.â
âSo what, youâve moved on to physical violence for fun?â
He whips his head around. For once, his eyes are absent of anything other than seriousness.Â
âNo actually. Just sticking up for my friends.â His stare is so intense she has to look away.
âI think Black can stick up for himself fine.â
âYeah, Sirius can, but Remus canâtânot always.â
Now itâs her turn to stare. She had been curious as to why Remus hadnât been on patrols earlier. It was hard to imagine him in a real argument, much less a physical scuffle.Â
âIs he ok? Remus I mean.â The worry in her voice softens his gaze a bit, shoulders relaxing.Â
âYeahâheâsâŚheâs going to be fine.â James teeters off, something hidden behind his words.Â
âWellâIâm glad.â She means it, though it feels understated. Her mind wanders to how often Severus would theorize about Remusâ absences and pushes away the idea that he could be behind the fight.Â
âDo you want something? I mean for the bruise?â She rummages around in her bag again and pulls out a vial of white liquid. Handing it to him, he eyes it warily before opening the bottle and giving it a sniff.Â
âItâs Mountain Arnica. I made it myselfâheals cuts and scrapes pretty well.âÂ
James pulls his glasses up to his forehead and uses the pad of his finger to dab some onto the bruise. She makes a subconscious note that his eyes are much clearer without the glasses covering them.Â
âYou getting into a lot of tussles to warrant a bottle of this?â He flashes her a sly smile, warming back into form.Â
She shrugs. âIn second and third there were some Slytherins that liked to bother me. I guess I got used to carrying it.â
All amusement drops from his face, eyes flooding with concern. âBut I thought you were mates with Snape.â
âYeah well,â she sighs, âweâve both seen Snapeâs track record for sticking up for me.â
She waits for a cutting jab at Severusâ expense but he gives none.Â
âThanks for this,â he says and reaches the vial back out.
âNo, you keep it.â She doesnât know what compels her, but she gives him the first genuine smile in years, âIâm sure you can find better use for it.â
The smile he offers back feels warm, real.Â
âThank Evans,â he says as he slips the vial into his pocket.
âRemus will love it.â
* * * * *
For once, and unfortunately so, she finds him completely visible.
âAh donât be such a puss Evans. James was just escorting me back to my dorms.âÂ
She finds the two walking down past the kitchens, easily detected by the way Oliviaâs voice bounces off the cold stone of the corridors.They werenât touching when she caught sight of them, but as she approaches, Olivia clasps onto Jamesâ limp arm, giggling with a coy smile.
âDonât know if you can read a clock, but whatever you could have possibly been doing to need an escort was already past curfew.â
James shifts his weight, being more silent than she has ever seen him in five years combined. Olivia gives another high pitched giggle, tightening her hold on his arm.Â
âSorry Evans, we were just busy. Lost track of time yâknow?â Lily can feel her dinner resurfacing in the back of her throat.
âWell, I donât care to know about your extracurriculars,â she turns her head, hoping to mask the flush she can feel on her cheeks, âitâs still twenty points each and a round of detention.â
James raises his head and eyes her with a curiosity that she is unwilling to acknowledge. Beside him, Olivia feigns a pout.
âAh, bugger. Well, I guess that means we will be seeing each other again, right James?âÂ
Lilyâs eyes flick over to him. His curiosity has settled into a tense stare, eyes blown out and focused solely on her.Â
âEr, probably not,â he says with a wooden tone. Oliviaâs eyes narrow, her fingers uncurling slightly from his bicep but not letting go.Â
As per protocol, she escorts them the short distance to the Hufflepuff dorm which they do in silence. Olivia keeps herself attached to Jamesâ arm, but he gives no reciprocation, letting it swing loose at his side. At the entrance, Olivia casts another hopeful glance at him, expecting some form of goodnight, but he remains distant, pulling his arm away from hers like removing an annoying arm brace. With a huff, Olivia ducks into the common room without as much as a goodbye.Â
With Olivia gone, itâs business as usual and Lily escorts James back to the tower like sheâs done so many nights already. But instead of the teasing, the idle small talk, the quippy banter, James remains quiet, their steps echoing through the halls.Â
Even in the silence, even with Jamesâ new pensive behavior, Lily feels lighter with Olivia gone. She steals a glance at him and she can see there is red blotching under the rims of his glasses, eyes focused only ahead at the darkness. A sick part of her wants to demand what he was doing with Oliviaâ wants to hear it even if she knows her stomach will fill with bile from the answer.
âI really was just walking her back.â His voice cuts through the silence, clear and firm.Â
So maybe he is a mind reader now.Â
Like him, she doesnât stop walking. âBad luck Potter. Maybe next time choose a snog partner who can be a little quieter.â She means to tease, but her voice is cutting, filled with a malice she didnât realize she was holding.Â
He stops and she feels fingers curl against her elbow. For the first time that night, their eyes lock.Â
âI wasnât going to snog her.â
She ignores the feeling that her heart is about to take flight and searches his face for a glimmer of sarcasm.
âComing from you, a serial liar, it's hard to believe.â She snorts.
âBut Iâve never lied to you.â
She doesnât know what to say. Suddenly, the corridor becomes very hot, the hand still holding her by the elbow now constrictive.
âWhatever, just drop it Potter, Itâs really none of my business.â
And he does drop it, letting go of her elbow and taking a few strides in front of her. She rushes to catch up, wondering who is leading who back to the dorms now.Â
Their newfound silence and the change in power dynamic makes something like anger take form, twisting her guts into a perilous place of recklessness.Â
âYâknow, you could do a lot better than Olivia Gueresso.â She waits for a physical reaction but nothing comes.Â
âWell itâs not like you're interested.â He says. His voice is so low and so quick she almost misses it. Almost.
âPotterââ she warns, but James is already bounding through the portrait, hand passing through his hair. She follows him down the tunnel, footsteps echoing around them.
 She doesnât know what else she wants from him, but if they reach the firelight of the common room it will be too late.Â
âHey, Potter,â she calls louder and the sound bounces. He turns quickly on his heel and Lily runs straight into him, ricocheting back against his chest. Two calloused hands steady her by her shoulders.Â
âYou know Evans, youâre really lovely in the candlelight.â
Itâs that look again. His eyes glazed on her like there is nothing else in existence. Itâs the second time he has touched her that hour but this time it feels familiar, perhaps even welcome.Â
âWhat are youââ
But the light of the fireplace takes him. He lopes away up to his dorm, not even giving a goodnight.Â
* * * * *
Sixth Year
He wants to be caught.Â
Like normal, he steps out of the shadows but it no longer jars her like it did back in fifth. She hadnât gotten a good look at him at the welcome ceremony but now she can see he has grown over summer. His body is somehow more lean and muscular all at once; his hair wilder, curling farther down his neck. Instead of his typical urge to immediately run a hand through it the second he spots her, his arms stay casual by his sides.Â
âTrying to be awarded the first detention of the year, Potter?â She says cooly, but her heart is already betraying herâsomething itâs been doing more and more often as her thoughts drifted to him over the summer.Â
âIf itâs from you, it would be an honor.â His grin grows, his dimple more pronounced.Â
Lily attempts to scoff, but finds it much more bearable to avert her eyes. Maybe he had stumbled into some good candlelight, but the longer he remains in front of her the more itâs clear whatâs so different about him: he is now infuriatingly fit.Â
âOkâso whereâs the gang? Might as well give it up since you are getting detention no matter what.â
His smile doesnât waver. âNo gang-âIâm solo tonight.â
She dares to look him in the eyes, ignoring the whooshing feeling in her chest. Heâs telling the truth.Â
âAlright, so what? You gonna get early revenge on the Slytherins by yourself?â
He makes a humming noise and his cheeks start to take on a bit more color.Â
âNoâ actually I just wanted to see you.â
It stops all of her thoughts dead. Something about how a small blush colors his cheeks makes her heart beat a bit faster.
âAnd you couldnât see me at dinner or in the common room like a normal person?âÂ
âYeah well, itâs not like any of our mates would act normal if I tried to ask about your summer over the welcome feast,â he mumbles, running his hand through his hair, now clearly a move of anxiety more than arrogance.
She takes a small step towards him. âThatâs really what you want, Potter? You broke school rules on night one to ask me about my holidays?â
âI meanâ-yes?â He rubs a hand through his hair again, eyes starting to shift away. A rush of something that resembles pride takes over her. James Potter is feeling sheepish because of me.
She lets him stew for a minute, mostly to take in the rare power she is wielding before giving him a smirk.Â
âSo do it.â
âDo what?â James gives her an incredulous look, face now so red he could have been slapped.Â
âAsk about my summerâor did you already forget thatâs what you are here for?âÂ
It takes a second, but a grin breaks out on his face, returning him back to form. âAlright Evansâhow was your summer?â
Lily hums clasping her hands behind her back. âWell my dad died soââ
âBloody hell,â James runs both hands through his air, all facial features frozen in complete shock. âI mean, Godric, Evans Iâm so sorryâthatâsâŚthatâsâŚâ
Lily waves a hand in dismissal to distract from any emotion that could be peaking on her face.Â
âEh, donât worry about it. He was a raging arsehole anyways.â
He looks at her, eyes wide and fixated. âYeah but stillâis your mum ok?â
She looks down the hall, trying to stay nonchalant. âYeah, I mean sheâs fineâseeing as sheâs been dead since fourth year.â
âGodric Fuck.â He does a quick spin on his heels, taking a step away from her with his head in his hands before turning back.
âIâmâ shit--How did I not know this?â
Lily frowns at him, tilting her head. âWhat do you mean? Itâs not like weâre close or anything.â
Something about saying that feels false but she pushes the thought away.
He shakes his head. âYeah, but weâve been in the same class, same house since we were eleven. I reckon Iâd at least know somethingâsomething like that.â
She finds it quite endearing that he reels from thisâthat they could cohabitate in the same space for so long without knowing the most basic facts about the other. He continues to rub his face in his hands, looking more tortured by the second.Â
âWell, to be fair, I donât know anything about your family either.â She offers.
He straightens up a bit, sensing her attempt to level the playing field. A glimmer of discomfort still sits in his eyes and despite her being the one newly orphaned, she feels a pull to comfort him.Â
âWell go on,â she prods, hoping to shift attention away from her, âTell me about yours. I know they are purebloodsâŚâ
He raises an eyebrow, wary to move away from her loss, but letting her take the lead.Â
âThereâs not much to sayââ
 Lily bats her eyes, urging him forward. He sighs.
 âThey are still together and disgustingly still in love, which I guess I should appreciate.â
It makes her giggle, thinking about some old wizarding couple making kissing faces while James feigns puking in the corner. His shoulders relax further, leaning into her amusement.Â
âAnd?âÂ
âAndâI dunno. Theyâre barking mad but I love them. Iâm an only child so I imagine you understand now why Iâm like this.â He makes a rare self-deprecating gesture towards himself, something the James from a year ago would never have done. It makes Lily break into a real laugh.Â
âAnd this,â Lily mirrors his gesture, âmeaningâŚâ
James grins, and it does something downright delectable to her heart. âThis meaning an arrogant git who is too thick to notice other peopleâs personal lives.âÂ
It is a sentiment she would have agreed with a thousand times in the past, but hearing it from him now makes her reconsider. It might have been true a year ago, but the boy standing in front of her is decidedly changedâfor one she likes standing next to him in the dark corridor.Â
But she canât say that.
âYour words.â She doesnât elaborate but she offers him a real smile, not one with any edge to it and he returns it.Â
âYeah,Evans. My words.â
* * * * *
It starts a sort of friendship between them. Â
He learns her schedule quickly, finding her in various places of the castle on any given day. She questions him about how he does it: disappears and reappears, knows exactly where sheâs going to be despite intentionally changing her route to confuse himâ but he never answers more than a teasing finger wag. âIâll never reveal my secretsâyou know that Evans.â
He no longer hides from her but hides from the others to get to her. Once found, he appears as usual but with conversation already on his lips. He asks about her life, about the muggle world, about music and films and anything that he can think ofâmaking good on all the lost time in the past six years they have been so close but knew nothing of each other. In turn, she does the same: she finds out that Sirius moved in with the Potters, that his dad is celebrated for a hair taming potion that miraculously doesnât work on his own son (âI swear, itâs my genes Evans, it openly rejects the stuffâI canât help it.â), that he likes autumn and quidditch in the rain and the color greenâŚ
And she is surprised how much she starts to look forward to it. Time has treated him well, the looming war knocking more sense into him than previous years. Instead of being arrogant and self serving, he listens intently, hanging on her every word. They talk passionately about the rising conflict with blood purity and their shared disdain for the dark arts, life after school, their fears for the future. They have more light-hearted moments too: he charms the corridors to play music, daring to take her hand and dance down the hall, brings her a bit of warm bread with cinnamon and sugar from the kitchens, and consistently offers her silly anecdotes that make her laugh harder than she thinks she ever has in her life. Even the silence is comfortableâwarm and encompassing like she imagines his physical touch would be if one of them just made the moveâŚ
âGod, I love Halloween.â
 They sit inside a bay window in the charms corridor, pulling out candy from a plastic bucket shaped like a grinning jack-o-lantern.
âAlright Evans, what in Godric's green potion is this bloody candy?â He holds up a package of candy corn and she giggles, snapping it out of his hands.Â
âDonât act like youâre too good for muggle candyâwe both know how disgusting the wizarding stuff can be.â
James feigns aghast, clenching his chest. âDo you mean to tell me you donât like bogey flavored sugar beansâhow could you Evans? An outrage!âÂ
She lets out a real laugh, one that makes her head tilt back. Heâs been making her do that more with each meeting and every time she does the same look crosses his face: one of triumph mixed with something tender.
âHere, just try oneâI swear it canât be worse than anything youâve already tasted.â
His eyes squint in a mischievous way, turning his head back and forth like a baby refusing a spoon.Â
âNope, no way.âÂ
She leans over more, encroaching into his personal space to poke his tightened mouth with the tip of the candy.Â
âCâmon Potter? Whereâs your courage? Your sense of adventure? Yourââ
He opens his mouth, sucking in the piece. Her hand falls to his lips, feeling the warm press of his tongue on the pads of her fingers.Â
She jerks back, her face blazing hot. Something burning and raw takes over her senses, flooding all vision.Â
âSorry,â he sputters, trying to not choke through his flustering, âI didnâtââ
She doesnât wait to talk herself out of it. She leans back in, pressing the soft line of her lips to his. His mouth immediately molds into hers. Eager and warm, he tastes like sugar and something unmistakably him.Â
âIâm sorry,â she says when she pulls up for air, â I just wanted to knowâŚwe donât have toâ,â but a calloused hand cups her cheek, pulling her mouth back to skim over his.Â
âI donât want your apology,â he whispers and the heat of his breath makes the room spin, âbut I would like you to kiss me again.â
Her mouth is already opening, slotting into place with his. He sighs into her and she canât think of a more wonderful sound in the world.Â
âAlright Potter, Iâll allow it.â
* * * * *
âAre you sure they canât see us?â It comes out more as a pant than a sentence. Jamesâ lips are working down her neck, hands taking advantage of her open shirt to explore undiscovered skin.Â
He hardly lifts his mouth and her body reacts to the heat of his breath, arching forwards into him for more.Â
âWe can go somewhere else...â
Her mind is screaming a loud, resounding yes, but the clock is telling her she still has an hour of patrols. She forces her eyes open. Looking past the hazy screen of Jamesâ cloak she can see the portraits sleeping soundly as though they never existed. Between the discovery of an invisibility cloak and the feel of James' body against hers, it's too much for her to take in at once.Â
He lets out a sigh and she feels the words so lovely being mouthed into her skin. Everything is crackling around her, the world disappearing besides him and his hands and his tongue now dragging lowerâŚ
âTomorrow,â she gasps. âFind me tomorrow right when I get off patrolâ-then take me anywhere you want.â
James detaches his mouth and looks up at her, his swollen lips hung open in wonder.Â
âDoes that mean we need to stop today?â
He tries to pull back, but she grips onto him, not ready to lose the hard line of his body against hers just yet. Thereâs still an hour left of patrols, but is it not still patrolling if she can see the corridor?
She pushes up on her toes to capture his mouth again, their lips slanting together in hot melding kisses.Â
âNoânever stop.â
* * * * *
It turns out James Potter can actually follow directions. The next night he shows up with only five minutes left of patrols to spare and they donât waste a second to slot together, making good on the promise to go wherever he pleases.
Over time her speculation of his invisibility cloak lessens, almost preferring the danger of it to the dingy passageways and small alcoves that he pulls her into each night. But she will take whatever she can getâwaiting impatiently through her patrols for that moment when he slides out of the darkness to pull her back in with him.Â
In the safety of the cloak or the darkness of some secret hiding spot, she feels a hunger she has never experienced. Itâs almost pavlovian in natureâthe second the clock nears eleven, her body vibrates at the thought of him, prickling under the anticipation of his touch. When reunited, they wedge together like two pieces of the same stone, hands and mouths frantic and roaming, words coming out in soft sighs and quiet pants that rise into the air like smoke.Â
Patrols are no longer enough and nights feel achingly short for the amount of desire they have for each other. Their meetings start to seep into the daytimeâ ending up in the same passageways and closets but now with the added danger of roaming students and curious friends. During classes, they steal glances and sometimes dare to sit beside each other to let hands travel deliciously out of sight. When no one is looking, they pass notes between classes, trying to convey all the sweeping emotions into tiny phrases like I canât wait to see you, I need you, you are so lovely, you make me so happy.
It stays like this for days, then weeks. Him always coming to find her, her letting him take the world away. Their time together always a sure thing.
Until it isnât.Â
A quarter past eleven and he hasnât shown up. She stands in the hall, one of the many recurring places he has found in her the past couple weeks. Her body still vibrates on cue, hungry to feel the scrape of his hands on her, but mentally she knows that something seems wrong.
Would it be impossible for him to not come?
Hearing a noise echo down the hall she turns on her heel, excitement flooding her cheeks, but instead of James loping out of the shadows, someone else stands there, face twisted like a predator hunting prey.Â
âYou look happy to see me.â Antonin Dolohov purrs out, his eyes scanning down her body with a salacious grin.
âItâs past curfew Dolohov. Thatâs 20 points and two days detention.â She doesn't let his lewd gaze affect her, keeping her chin high while her hand hovers over her wand pocket.Â
âDetention,â he tuts, âI much prefer doing the detaining if you catch my drift, but Iâm interested in how a mudblood like you plans to go about it.â
He takes a step forward and Lily pulls out her wand, pointing it straight between his eyes.Â
âEnough.â
His smile twists again, nonplussed by the threat. â I see why Snape has always had such a hard on for you, Evans. You are a pretty girl for a mudblood. Why donât you be a good little girl and get on your knees for me like you do to keep old Slughornâ
âStupefy.â
She doesnât even blink. The proximity of her wand to his forehead makes him knock back and he lands with a thud on the ground. The anger and fear that has been mounting since he appeared boils over and rushes out of her, her wand hand moving on its own accord. She can hear herself as though through a tunnel, hitting Dolohovâs motionless body with spell after spell, each one landing and sizzling into him like a lightning rod. Tears fall hot and globbing on her cheeks.Â
Lily! Lily!
She feels strong and familiar arms wrap around her, pulling the wand out of her hand and throwing it to the ground. She makes heaving noises, pushing away from James as he wrestles her in his arms, trying to reach her through the fury.Â
âLily, thatâs enough, You have to stop.â
But something inside her doesnât want to stop. Her time with James has been a good distraction, but she is tired. Tired of the blood purity talks, tired of the endless bullying and spiteful words, tired of forever being a freak no matter what she does and no matter how much she tries to prove herself. Her prefect badge, her good grades, her perfect transitions from one world to the next will never be enough, because people like Dolohov wonât let it.Â
 Her legs give out, letting the tears fall in choked sobs. James collapses on the ground with her, pushing her head into his chest, letting his shirt become soaked through.
âYou didnât comeâŚâ She cries out. Itâs the smallest of the things on her mind, but itâs the only one she can accurately put into words.Â
âI know, Iâm sorry, I was just coming to find youâ-Siriusâ mum had sent him a howler andââ
âSo now you're selfish too,â she hisses to herself. Pushing herself into him more, she tries to calm the animal noises that keep spilling from her mouth. From behind them, Dolohov groans, some of the hexes starting to wear off.Â
âLily, I need you to breathe. We need to get out of hereâdid he touch you?â He pulls back to surveille her.
She is still taking ragged, shallow breaths, eyes burning from the salt of her tears. Sounds echo from down the corridor and James quickly scrambles to pull her into his arms, hoisting her into a cradle against his chest.Â
Like always, they disappear together, this time behind a tapestry where there is enough room for them to spread outâthough they donât.
âItâs alrightâIâm right here.â
She clings to him, and he continues to whisper comforting words, caressing her hair, her ears, her neck. Finally, she drifts off to sleep, the smell of him and the rhythm of his breathing the only thing tethering her from some sort of madness.Â
* * * * *
Seventh Year
âLily, pleaseââ
But she keeps walking down the corridor, actively looking in directions that are anywhere but at him.Â
âIâm not going to give up. Why did you stop answering my letters? Everything was soâso perfectâŚâ
It had been. The summer days were spent writing letters back and forth, exchanging photos, filling in for time spent apart. At first they had to come up with creative excuses to see each other without anyone finding out (âOh, well I was just thought a quick run to Diagon Alley would be nice.â) before Dumbledore gifted them with the greatest excuse of all (âSirius, youâll be at your Uncleâs, yeah? Lily is popping in to do some Headsâ planningâdonât worry, it will be more of a choreâŚâ).
The days they spent that summer bouncing between each otherâs houses were some of the best she had ever experienced. Safe from the wandering eyes of classmates, they held hands openly, caressed each other without shame, and spoke admiringly for the first time in normal speaking voices. They snuck into the otherâs house at night, crawling into the otherâs bed unable to wait the days or hours to press together again, unable to bear wasting another second without their breaths intertwining, bodies always unimaginably hungry for the otherâs touch.Â
But then there was silence.Â
âIs it about the sex? Because we can go back to taking things slow I donâtââ
âOf course itâs not about the bloody sex,â she spits out, unable to contain her shock. âThatâthat was incredible butââ
âBut what? Lily, Iâm going mad. Ask SiriusâI've nearly burrowed a path into my sitting room floor from all the pacing I did in the last week.â
She doesnât want to look him in the eye because she knows if she does he will see it all: Snape coming to her door, warning her about the Dark Lordâs rising, his plan to kill anyone who is a traitor to his causeâŚ
If I did something, I will fix it, I swear,â his voice cracks, tears on the brink of falling, âI justâŚreally need you back. I miss you.â
This time itâs her turn to disappear. She continues walking down the hall, snuffing out her wand light so he is left in the dark.Â
* * * *
He isnât looking for her, but he gravitates towards her anyway.
He was lucky he didnât miss her entirely. Way up in the highest rung of the stands, the light of the stars betray her by reflecting auburn hair like a beacon. He knows itâs only self-sabotage at this point to approach, having spent exactly two weeks now with no communication whatsoever, but he does it anyway because he can see her shivering from all the way down on the pitchâand because he has never been able to resist her, even now.Â
âItâs too cold to be out here like that.âÂ
He takes off his quidditch cloak and offers it to her, but she doesnât even look at it, staring off into the distance.Â
Taking her silence as an invitation, he sits, leaving enough distance between them to show his caution. Just like in the candlelit corridors, the light from the stars mingle with the color of her eyes, making them glimmer like jewels on her face. It takes everything in his body not to reach for her, fearing that the sparkle will subside the minute he does.Â
âThereâs a war out there,â she says, her voice hollow and cold like the wind.Â
âYeah, so Iâve heard.â
Thereâs silence again. The wind cuts through the stands and brushes her hair up into the air like fire dancing.Â
âThe potions master I applied to apprentice under owled back todayâhe says he wonât accept my application because Iâm a mudblood.â
His head jerks in her direction. He has never heard her say that word before. Instinctively his hands clench at his sides, anger like waves in his chest.Â
âThen he doesnât deserve you, the tosserâ-People should be lining up to work with you, youâre bloody brilliant.â He means every word, and he can tell she knows he means it too. A small, pitiful smile tugs at her lips.Â
âBloody brilliant doesnât change my birthâmight as well revert back to a muggle at this rateâŚâ
He doesnât want to hear anymore. He stands and forces himself in front of her and she looks up at him with a deep, pained look.
âWhat has gotten into you? The Evans I know wouldnât say shite like this. The Evans I love wouldnâtââ
He stops cold, watching her catch the word before he does. Love. The Evans he loves.Â
âYou donât want to love me,â she whispers, tears falling hot now against her cheeks.Â
âBut I doââ It comes out as a gasp, the suffering of two weeks without her pouring out of him like a broken dam. âIs this what itâs all about? That youâve decided you arenât good enough?â
âIâm not though,â her voice rises, face twisting into a sob. âIâm not good enough for the bloody wizarding or muggle world, not good enough to find work after school, not good enough for you.âÂ
The last word comes biting out and James freezes in place, feeling as though he has been stunned.Â
âLily, what are you talking about? When have I ever, ever said you arenât good enough for me.â
Her eyes dart around, hands thrashing to remove the tears that keep coming.Â
âYou donât have to say it. Youâre a purebloodâIâve heard the talk. The death eaters will come to your family eventually and ask for support. If Iâm with youâŚâ a sob cuts off her words. She stands up, preparing to bolt but he grabs her by the forearm, holding her there with the wind tugging at her hair.Â
âIf youâre with me than fuck them.â
The tears make her eyes glimmer but not in the way he wants to see them. He expects her to try to run again, but she doesnât.Â
âLily, I donât care. I donât care. You could be half troll and I would still want to be with you. Donât you see? This is what they want, for you to be afraidâto give up.â
He takes the chance to slide a hand onto her cheek, wiping away some of the tears she has failed to stop.Â
âIâI love you, Lily. And if you donât want that because you donât feel it back, then I will disappear. But if you donât want it because you are scared thenâŚthen I wonât accept that.â
He searches her eyes, wondering if he is making the biggest mistake of his life by pushing her. She looks back and even with all the pain he canât stop thinking about how absolutely lovely she looks in the moonlight. Her hair, her eyesâeven the tears. He burns the image into his memory, knowing that even if itâs the last night next to her, at least he will have her beauty in this moment forever.Â
âI donât want you to disappear.âÂ
The wind carries her voice and places it right into his beating heart, suddenly as warm as sunlight.Â
âI donât want you to disappear, because I love you too.â
* * * *
Now, they disappear into each other. Instead of dimly lit corridors, he pulls her into a kiss the second she leaves class. Whispers and hidden notes are replaced with laughter and shrieks of joy as he lifts her up and spins her after a quidditch game, not caring to even glimpse at the house cup. In the sunlight by the lake they tangle together, studying, laughing, snoggingâespecially snogging, making up for all the lost time in the weeks they were apart and for all the other years they could have been together. The night becomes a special placeâone of nostalgia and hope. Instead of meeting in grimy alcoves, she follows his lead to his bed where they slot together like two pieces if a whole, trying to meld back as one.Â
He was always a beacon of light in the darkness, but in the sunlight he is breathtaking. Always a presence of comfort and joy and love. So much love that she wonders if she had ever felt it beforeânot even the love of family could compare to what he is capable of showing her. She gives it back tenfold, keeping him impossibly close and hoping she will never have to let go.Â
âJamesâyou canât just hide.â
Itâs odd to see the shimmering movement of the cloak in the daylight. A muffled voice calls out from where he was just next to her, sheepish and frantic.
âDonât mind meâjust completely turned to dust from embarrassment.â
A smile cracks on her lips, her heart makes fluttering beats in her chest.
âYou donât have to answer me todayâ-or at all. We could just pretend it never happened.â
She reaches out towards where his voice is coming from, but hears his feet move back on the grass.Â
âJames,â she sighs, â I was going to say yes.â
It hangs in the air. She can practically feel his heartbeat from whatever distance away he stands hiding.Â
âSo, if you would stop freaking outââ she adds, cheeks filling with pink, âIâd really like to kiss my new fiancĂŠ.â
His head pops out, floating detached in front of her. It would remind her of the first time she ever caught him past curfew, but instead of a mischievous grin, his face is flush and eyes blown wide.Â
âIâm not freaking out,â he murmurs, âButâjust to be sure, did just call me your fiancĂŠ?â
She moves quickly, grabbing hold of the cloak and pulling herself under into his arms. She can feel his body buzzing against hers, fingers moving in shock to wrap around her body.Â
âYes, I did,â she says, pressing her lips into his. âAnd yes, I will marry you.â
If the cloak falls away, they donât notice. He picks her up and she wraps herself around him, the warmth of his skin and the May sunlight working in tandem. His shock has worn off and he kisses her in earnest, and she is more than happy to reciprocate.Â
They could have stayed like that for hours, daysâit didnât matter anymore. With him, everything else disappears.Â
#Jily#james potter#lily evans#marauders era#yallthemwitches#my writing#jily fanfiction#james x lily#jily getting together through the years
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Married!Stonathan with a daughter headcanons to brighten your day â¨
đ¸ Masterlist
đš You can read part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here | part 4 here
A/N: I have unanimously decided that Saturdays are "Married!Stonathan with a Daughter" days, so here's another set of headcanons!
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⨠If you haven't read part 1 of "Married Stonathan! with a Daughter Headcanons," you can read it here, and then come back đ!
⨠Steve's the type of dad who gets distracted watching a kid's show with Elizabeth, so when Jonathan comes to check in on them, he finds Steve sitting on the floor watching Rugrats and Elizabeth nowhere in sight;
â "What are you doing, Steve?"
â "Watching Rugrats with Lizzie, babe."
â "Uh-huh... And where is Lizzie...?"
â "What do you mean where is she? She's right... Ah, shit, not again..."
⨠Steve's also the type of dad who thinks it's funny to scare their baby daughter, but one time, he inadvertently made her cry, which resulted in him sleeping on the couch for a week;
⨠He's also the type of dad who thinks it's funny when their kids curse. Oh, 4-year-old Elizabeth said "fuck"? Steve's laughing his ass off while Jonathan's fighting the urge to strangle him - because Steve's lack of a baby filter is the cause of this;
⨠Steve thinks of himself as "the cool dad" and Jonathan as "the not-so-cool dad," but, in reality, he's way stricter with Elizabeth than Jonathan is because Steve is aware of what stupid teenagers do. After all, he was a stupid teenager himself - and a pretty stupid one at that;
⨠Jonathan is not as strict as Steve because he trusts his daughter and knows she's nowhere as stupid as he or Steve were in their teenage years;
⨠Steve babyproofed the whole house;
⨠Elizabeth is responsible like her dad Jonathan, and protective like her dad Steve - the best of both worlds!
⨠Also inherited the sarcasm and snarkiness of her Byers dad and irritability of her Harrington dad - the worst of both worlds;
⨠Very domestic Steve & Jonathan! Doing house chores together, like cooking (Steve's not allowed to cook by himself, though), doing laundry, washing the cars, and stuff - which leads to Elizabeth calling them "disgustingly sweet," much to their amusement;
⨠Steve is the type of dad who freaks out over the tiniest things. Like, 7-year-old Elizabeth fell off her bike and scraped her knee? Immediately scoops her up in his arms and runs inside the house while asking her if she's alright, then proceeds to interrogate her and ask if Elizabeth was being reckless and threatening to confiscate her bike;
⨠While Jonathan's just there, smiling at Steve freaking out before telling him to calm down;
⨠Elizabeth gets embarrassed by Steve whenever they go out together because he thinks he looks good on anything, and then proceeds to go out looking like this:
⨠Yeah, he has "the dad style";
⨠Jonathan is the one responsible for teaching Elizabeth how to drive because Steve yelled too much during their 15-minute lesson;
⨠Elizabeth threatens people with the fact that her dad's a cop despite Steve constantly telling her not to do it, otherwise he'll get in trouble at work but Elizabeth reassures him it's fine because her grandpa's the Chief of Police - and the thought of getting into trouble with Hopper makes Steve PANIC;
⨠She's fiercely protective of her dads - no one's allowed to send weird looks at them;
⨠They have dozens of pictures of Elizabeth in their wallets - all taken by Jonathan;
⨠Steve's the bad cop, and Jonathan's the good one;
⨠Though Jonathan is not afraid to be strict if he needs to, and no human being in the entire world is foolish enough to not listen to Jonathan Byers when he's being strict;
⨠Jonathan's a master of saying "I'm not mad, just disappointed," and that's so much worse than all the yelling, shouting, and scolding Steve has available in his arsenal;
⨠Constantly asks Elizabeth about boyfriends - or girlfriends;
⨠Feign shock and disappointment when their daughter informs them she's straight;
â "So, any boys, Lizzie?"
â "Or girls."
â "Dads, I'm straight."
â [dramatic gasps accompanied by putting a hand over their hearts.]
⨠Robin mocks Steve when he starts acting like an overprotective dad. Also calls him "dad dingus" now, much to his annoyance;
⨠Jonathan often asks Joyce for advice, and despite her constantly telling him he and Steve are doing everything right, he can't help but feel a bit insecure and also fearful of turning into Lonnie;
⨠Steve, meanwhile, fears being too much like his grade-A asshole dad;
⨠Elizabeth's D&D character is a Sorcerer - courtesy of her Uncle Will and Uncle Mike, who always played with D&D with Elizabeth when babysitting her for Steve and Jonathan;
⨠Proudest dads in the world who have a whole section of their living room dedicated to Elizabeth's achievements;
⨠Jokingly accuse each other of their daughter's bad behavior;
â "She has your temper, Steve!"
â "Oh, yeah? Well, she has your sarcasm, Jon!"
⨠Both agree that Robin, Nancy, and Dustin are bad influences on their daughter and should not leave her alone with them unsupervised;
⨠Elizabeth has the best parents in her group of friends, but will never admit it out loud because teenagers think it's cringe to say their parents are cool;
⨠Regarding where the Harrington-Byers family lives, I know Jonathan's plan is to leave Hawkins behind and go study photography at NYU (and in my headcanons, he is a photojournalist and a damn good one at that), but let's not forget Jonathan's a teenager and teenagers have all sorts of dreams. Just like Jonathan, when I was 17, my plan was to leave my small town behind and go to the big city to attend college, which I did and then returned to my small town one year after graduating from law school because here's where my family lives and I didn't want to be away from them, primarily because of some family issues. And I think Jonathan would do the same. He wouldn't leave Joyce and Will behind - he'd either bring them along if he could or return to stay with them. The fact Jonathan doesn't want to go to college with that girlfriend of his and instead wants to attend community college to be near his mom and brother is proof of that. So, because of that, I headcanon Jonathan, Steve, and their daughter live with Hawkins, near their friends, family, and other loved ones.
#stranger things#stonathan#jonathan byers#steve harrington#Elizabeth Harrington-Byers#Harrington-Byers family#jonathan byers x steve harrington#steve harrington x jonathan byers#stonathan headcanons#byler#robin buckley
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As a Max fan, I do admit that Max isn't perfect and I absolutely adored Lando before especially with his friendship with Max and Carlos. Lando is getting hated mainly because of the things he says and some of his actions. One was the trump thing, second, was when Max was congratulating him and he decided to snitch despite the race being over (not a big issue for me personally cause all drivers snitch). Third is the way he acted when he won the Dutch GP especially when he decided to use Max's catchphrase (I know it wasn't Max's before), most of us found it rude especially since well max's catchphrase and Lando saying that seemed as if he was mocking Max and the worst thing was it was Max's home race. Fourth, the cooldown with Lewis when Lew was merely being nice and he decided to somewhat insult him (I feel insulted despite Lewis saying it was fine). Fifth, When he called Max's win in Brazil luck not talent, I mean luck was a part of it but talent had a much larger contribution. Sixth, when McLaren fucked up and he made his engineer beg for Lando to give the place back to Oscar despite him being only there because McLaren fucked up and Iscar was doing an excellent job defending (Fuck Mclaren strategy tbh). Seventh, podium in Hungary ('twas fucked up) Oscar couldn't even enjoy his win because Lando was the center of attention despite Osc having a phenomenal drive. Eight, when Oscar had to give up a win (it was a sprint but it was still a win) just for him to lose big time from Max. Ninth, when Oscar once again had to back off to give Lando a chance to catch up to Max but he couldn't pass Charles. Tenth, this is mostly due to how the FIA has been acting. They have been acting like a knight and shining armor for Lando, especially during the quali. This is not hate, I do think he is a contender for this season, the way he's been acting is somewhat the problem. (I think I have more but this is enough lmao)
there's a lot to be covered here so i'll answer the ones that caught my eye.
3) now that i've thought about it, i'd understand why max fans in particular would be mad about it. max coined the phrase, his friend essentially used it to take a dig at him. me personally, if this is what you're getting so seriously pressed about then i actually don't know what to say. this is a sport, shithousery will ensue between friends, enemies, acquaintancesâ everybody. it's not like lando completely ridiculed and encouraged any more hate towards max; i don't know if i can say the same for max, though.
4) that one i felt taken aback by it too. don't know why he said that, it's definitely something he could've avoided saying. but if lewis isn't bothered about it, i'm not going to be. if he was, i certainly would be and will hold lando accountable (i still do anyways)
5) this is so palpably hearsay and i cannot believe you still think this. at this point, i feel like a broken radio trying to reason with you guys and tell you that that is not what he meant. i'm sure you've come across people explaining what the actual meaning is, so let's not sit here and still believe this foolishness. if, for some reason, you still don't get it, there's a post here that explains it perfectly.
6 and 7) you are talking all about unrightful lando wins, but didn't lando have to give his place up for oscar? oscar didn't overtake lando by his own will and win, so why won't we use that against oscar? some people do, but we all know it was mclaren's fault for putting them in that position. they could've easily let them stay where they are and fight for p1, but they didn't and that is how it panned out. after them guilt tripping lando into giving the place back, are we still blaming lando for this? i know you shouldn't be because as you said, 'fuck mclaren strategy'.
8) mclaren were seemingly championship contending... up until they claimed they weren't after the brazil gp (honestly, odds were stacking up against them that they weren't because they kept fucking up more than they should've). i can tell you are either quite ignorant or haven't been a fan for long, because it seems you are too used to someone winning the championship by their own merit because of the very pitiful gap in performance between the red bull drivers, but forget that many championships have been won with the help of teammates, one of the most infamous being lewis and valterri. oscar giving up his place was to help lando (who's higher in the standings between the 2) get more points and close the gap. it wasn't a rightful sprint win, we are all aware, but that's how this sport works.
10) i was going to go hell on this take, but @landhoe-norris worded it perfectly in their post:
"Imagine thinking that an organisation that rigged a race so that your favourite drivers would win a championship, an organisation that has allowed him to run other drivers off the track for the past three years without repercussions, is now being biased against him because he âhas the wrong passportâ when in all seriousness your favourite driver is the epitome of âwhite privilegeâ and has been since he stepped into the sport."
there's nothing more for me to say.
all in all, lando is not as bad as you guys make him out to be. if anything, max, in my opinion, is worse. and looks like he'll always be.
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My comments on Arcane s01
-Vi is the sister I wish I had, fr. And as an lesbian older sister myself, it wasn't hard for me to connect with her from the very first episode.And now that I've watched the show, I don't understand how some people blame her for wherever she did to Jinx. Yeah, Jinx was just a kid but guess what, so was Vi. Jinx lost everything? So has Vi.
"but Violet abandoned Powder" No! She was protecting her lil sister. And she just saw her sister murder their entire family, how y'all think she feels? And she was about to save Powder before she was kidnapped.
And the fact that she manages to be so soft and good besides everything she went through... Vi is THE exception.
-Powder/Jinx was just a kid and all but damn. Vi forgives it all she has done, and in the one time Vi needs her forgiveness, she's so quick to hate her for good. Did she really realize what she had done?
Well, now I see why some people compared her to Azula. The difference is that Azula never had anything like Vander or Vi, Jinx had that and still went nuts. And also, Azula never goes for the murder, not really when it was expected (like when she was betrayed by Mai and Ty Lee). While Jinx would give 2 shits about kill people for funzies.
Yes, I feel sympathy for her, just as much as I feel anger towards her. She is a complex character that's for sure. And mentally ill
And my hate for her is mostly for the way she treats Vi honestly
Anyway, there's this joke on Brazilian fandom that Jinx is homophobic and that's why she can't stand Caitlyn and can't stand seeing her with Vi, and I think it's honestly hilarious
-CaitVi is a wonderful ship. Nothing against the explicit and big gestures such as kissing and all but damn, I missed the subtlety. The minor and meaningful touches, the gazes...it reminded me so much of Korrasami
-I loved Jayce and Caitlyn's relationship. When united, gays and lesbians are strong.
And I still don't get why people keep pretending Caitlyn actions on s2(as far as I saw in the trailers) aren't justified. Her mom was murdered by the people she tried to help, if it was me, I would also raise hell upon them. Anyway, let's talk about s1 Caitlyn and she is just so adorable.
She really wanted to make a difference, to help. She got out of her bubble and got a taste of the real world, and I bet it hurt. She just wanted to help and to do what's right but she paid the high price and has all the right to me mad at s2
And from the way she flinched at Jinx during the "dinner" scene, at bet the hours she spent under Jinx mercy weren't nice
-Im sorry, I didn't care much about the hextec plot. I know it's important and it's what makes the character on the road but their inner struggles and their subplots are far better to watch.
The only interesting part of them was Jayce cuz he is such an interesting character. For the way I've seen people talk about them, I thought he was gonna be the worst but no. You can see he struggles with some decisions. He ain't bad, he just does bad decisions
-Ekko is such a G man. If something happens to him in s2, I will riot. I like how he is the exact opposite of Jinx.
Ekko also lost everything and everyone, but instead of Jinx, he turned his pain into something good, into helping others the way Vander and Benzo helped him and the other kids.
I wasn't expecting him to be friends with Heimerdinger but I love that for him
-Lets talk about something serious, Jinx was right in her anger towards the upper class but blowing things up was not the answer. Vander knew and saw things how it was, making deals is better than having innocent blood in the streets.In fact, I saw a lot of simplified comments about the politics and social aspects of Arcane and now that I've watched the show I see how damn immature and naive a lot of them are.
Do not get me wrong, we should rebel every time we need and violence is a part of that. No revolution happened without it. But we should be wise about the battles we pick.
Let's look at Caitlyn for example, she is born rich and a good person. It's naive to expect someone born with everything and disconnected with the lower class problems and needs, to all of sudden be an ally to social causes. Born rich and privileged doesn't necessarily mean you are born a bad person, just as much as born poor doesn't automatically make you a good person.
Now, do you think Caitlyn deserved to lose her mother like that? Do you think she deserves what Jinx did to her just because she was from Piltover? That's when you lose potential allies and gain strong enemiesIt's not that simple. Social problems such as class differences, poverty, violence...it's not something that you can fix that easily. Oh man, I wish it was but it ain't.
With all that said, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Ekko, Vander...none of them are evil and most of their actions (if not all of them) have a solid reason behind it, but this doesn't mean they were the best thing to do.
-Fuck you Silco. He is what happens when you put a "wherever it cost" mentality, cuz sometimes the cost is high. Too high. Also, he doesn't want justice or revenge, he wants power
-The animation and sound design is a masterpiece too. And the fight choreography? Damn shit was fire
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"I can assure you, the price to pay is the fact this act might make you unravel into a million little pieces that can't ever rejoin. Is that not, payment enough? Death or success?" Micuccia lies as easily as she breaths, though she isn't lying entirely.
It is risky, there is no real payment needed, success or death. It is all true, the lie is simply of omission. The lie is that, it's her weave, and Mew will only be borrowing it.
She drags Mew up to her, now lips only a space apart. "I'll see what I can do about the pain. Provide you with a little distraction."
"Try not to shred apart." Micuccia pulled her into a kiss, a rough, dominating, tongue down her throat kiss. Why? Well a distraction, as the moment Mew agreed before this kiss, when the consent was given. Micuccia would start the weaving as their lips touched.
The soft feeling of her mouth, tongue, the passionate kiss that could make your legs jello, was almost utter overshadowed by what could only be described as Mew's entire existence being shredded into this strands, utterly yanked apart and twisted, even if her body didn't move at all.
It was like she was being torn apart on all sides, sliced, diced, her mind twisted and yanked. For most, it's pure hell and it feels like it lasts for hours, maybe even days. Micuccia wasn't wrong, you had to be mad to want this.
Yet she continued to kiss, the extended feeling of time and pain had this kiss trying to worm through and ease the pain. At its worst Mew must of felt like she was stretched as thin as a string across infinite distance, and then slowly.
A weaving motion, a feeling of sewing oneself back together. All the pain slowly ease, bringing Mew back into one piece in her mind, right back into Micuccia's lips, a slight 'pwah' as the kiss broke and Micuccia let Mew drop.
It was quite intense, there would be no shame in feeling both, horrified, pained, and aroused.
"Morning, how do you feel? It's been days for you hasn't it? Though only a few minutes have passed."
The feeling, the instinct to weave one's body back together should be in her, to weave parts stronger if she needed temporarily, to take what you have and extend or repair it. Such is how you use thread.
It's so ingrained, that a black flash crosses Mew's vision. Something is cut, something vital perhaps... but it shouldn't matter.
Mew should be able to pull themselves back together, one weave at a time.
"Condition? Whatever it takes to get a power like that...But are you actually just going to teach me this for free?" She asked suspiciously. This seemed like an awfully incredible power to hand out so easily. Why wasn't she demanding anything in return from Mew? Strange...
Conditioning though...Chances are it may be painful, but it'd be worth it if she could break out of her chains like this. Those cozy humans settled down in the village, hardly a care in the world despite being surrounded by their predators...It made her want to shred them to pieces and roast their meat over a fire. That's the sort of existence youkai were supposed to be.
Yet, oh no, she couldn't. There were so many who'd stop her. That gap youkai, the Hakurei Shrine Maiden, even that fox god and her shrine maiden...But if she had absolute control over her own life and body? Things might be different.
#;;Micuccia#I hope I didn't go too far - I figured she'd give her consent to getting the power#and I left it vageu to what gets cut#like in half - her heart- her head or brain - your choice#let you show off how she weaves her body back together#gensokyohyakkiyako#if too far at any point let me know
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if you're wondering what the big deal is about the louis-philippe sentence in les misĂŠrables, it is, in the original french, 760 words long. the subject of the sentence doesn't appear until 95% of the way through, at word #711; the main verb is word #712. the sentence contains 91 commas and 49 semicolons and is almost entirely a list of laudatory adjectival phrases describing the erstwhile king of france. this is perhaps especially notable because les mis is, shall we say, not known for being particularly gung-ho about the monarchy.
this sentence copied and pasted into Word takes up more than one page single-spaced. in the 1800-page folio classique edition, it is fully two and a half of those 1800 pages. that means that les mis is 0.14% this single sentence. more of les mis is made up of this sentence than earth's atmosphere is made up of carbon dioxide (0.04%). if the page count of les mis stayed the same but every sentence was the length of this one, les mis would consist of only 720 sentences total.
incidentally, guess who named hugo a peer of france 17 years before the publication of les mis?
#he also goes on for another six pages after this but by then he has remembered the existence of the full stop#the endnotes say that hugo 'se devait de faire [ce portrait] aussi favorable que possible à la personnalitÊ de l'homme#qui avait favorisÊ sa carrière' (had to make this portrait as favorable as possible to the character of the man who had favored his career)#in fairness to hugo it's not like louis-philippe was alive to read this. so he wasn't just sucking up to get something out of it#he says at the end of the chapter that this description is 'entirely disinterested'. which like on the one hand i get#bc like i said louis-philippe was not in power and reading this. but otoh victor 'ancien pair de france' hugo u r not exactly unbiased. lol#les mis#lm 4.1.3#i just looked up the english translation and gasp! hapgood turned it into four separate sentences!!!!#so i think y'all who are reading it via les mis letters (which uses hapgood i think?) are gonna miss out on the full experience :/#my posts#linked to#syntax#idk if i got this across but the worst part is that the subject of the sentence - the beginning of the independent clause -#doesn't occur until the very end. so for the first 95% of the sentence you're just waiting for the bass to drop!!!#like reading it out loud you have to raise your pitch at the end of every dependent clause because you haven't gotten to the subject yet#AND THERE ARE SO MANY CLAUSES!! 49 SEMICOLONS PEOPLE!!! FORTY-NINE!!!!#victor hugo would be TERRIBLE as a hype man. he would take so long that the crowd would tear him to pieces with their fingernails#before louis-philippe could come out on stage. and then they'd be so mad at louis-philippe for inspiring him that they'd tear LP apart too#actually i think i'm using hype man wrong. i'm thinking of the guy that gets the crowd hyped up for the main guy before the main guy#makes an appearance. a hype man is the guy who makes interjections during a song. victor hugo would be bad at both of these#like just imagine the announcer at the beginning of a basketball game. and now...your starting lineup...at power forward...#and then he just says the 760-word louis-philippe sentence.#dead. murdered at the hands of the fans. microphone shoved down his trachea.
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Blyke and John: Parallel Characters
Iâve written multiple entries about this,
[x] [x] [x]
But Iâm back to make a comprehensive analysis about the glaring similarities between these two. Iâll try not to repeat myself here.
âźď¸SPOILER WARNING for the whole seriesâźď¸ but this mostly focuses on the story before Johnâs suspension.
Firstly, this scene:
ch. 121
This conversation takes place near the beginning of the Joker arc. Itâs after John targets Zeke, after he targets Juni, and the day before he goes after Seraphinaâs kidnappers. The timing is important.
âIf someone hit your best friend, would you let it slide?â
That question is supposed to remind us what John does to people who hurt Seraphina: hunting them down and sending them to the hospital. Blyke shooting a destructive beam really close to John was an example of a trait they share: they both blow up violently when people mistreat their friends.
Johnâs downward spiral carries strong themes of hypocrisy. Heâs angry at the world, heâs angry at himself, and as a coping mechanism, he chooses to believe that everyone else is as bad as he is. That means that most of the traits he hates others for are the same things he hates about himself. In this scene, Blyke is unintentionally calling out this hypocrisy: âWhat I did is no different from what you doâ.
But Blykeâs just trying to connect with John here, he has no idea what Johnâs been doing. And John, of course, doesnât give a shit about what Blyke has to say. This line was here for the audience to notice.
Theyâre both so similar, but their similarity immediately causes tension between them because, well, John was on the wrong end of Blykeâs protectiveness.
I really love the way this was writtenâ there are so many flashbacks to this scene, but they remember it differently. John remembers the part that hurt himâ heâd describe it as âthe time that jackass shot a beam at meâ. Blyke remembers the part that hurt him, or rather, hurt Remi: âthe time that jackass hit Remi for no reasonâ.
Blyke and John are both hotheaded characters with strong ideals. Theyâre similar enough that Seraphina points it out:
(ch. 80)
As Blyke grows as a character, he becomes more like John: sticking up for low tiers and speaking out against the injustice in the world. But while Blyke is doing that more, John is going in the opposite direction, until they are fully opposed to each other.
Speaking of Blykeâs character arc, it took me a few rereads to actually understand what part of him changed. His kindness, selflessness, braveryâ all of those things were there from the start. Blykeâs character arc was about becoming more aware of his surroundings, and how his carelessness can harm others. Blyke was never malicious, but after X-Rei and integrating more with the school, he becomes aware of people suffering around him and how he unintentionally contributes to it. He becomes less reckless, privy to the flaws in the system he grew up not questioning, and uses his power more responsibly. He even comes up with a more controlled way to wield his ability. The part of Blyke that changes is his maturity.
Part of Johnâs character arc is also about being careful. Itâs not as close of a parallel as other things are, but one of the things that John works on during his redemption arc is holding back. Both of them learn self-control throughout the series, and for John, that means acting early before his emotions spiral out of hand.
Adding onto my first point about the two of them wanting to protect their friendsâ the fact that they canât do that makes them both angry and desperate. For most of the story, the âblockâ that prevents John from protecting Seraphina is in his head. Itâs his own trauma that holds him back. The block that prevents Blyke from protecting his friends is, guess what? Also Johnâs trauma! Parallels abound.
Another thing I noticed in Episode 80 is this:
Notice that when Seraphina says âIâd take that over strength any day,â John is looking at the camera. Heâs avoiding Seraâs gaze. Seraphina is saying she prefers honesty over strength. John is very strong, and very dishonest, but Seraphina thinks the opposite because John is so dishonest. John appears to be reflecting on this disconnect.
In relation to this analysis, Seraphina is actually pointing out a major difference between Blyke and John. Beyond that, sheâs praising Blykeâs traits, (less strong but very open) above Johnâs traits, (strong as fuck but a liar with his pants on fire). Furthermore, John really cares what Seraphina thinks of him. Knowing that she would think less of him is the main reason why he spent so much time and effort preventing her from catching his lies.
This leads into my main point here: Blyke is the âgoody-two-shoesâ version of John. Or, more accurately, the person that John wants to be. Blyke has a clean track record and doesnât really get into trouble. He is respected and left alone by the school without being hated and feared, he de-escalates conflicts without taking things too far, he doesnât lose control, heâs someone Seraphina thinks highly of, hell, even his grades are better! Blyke represents everything that John wants to be, and the person that he could have been if heâd gone down a different path.
But, crucially, John is also what Blyke wants to be. Well, not wholly, but his ability? His strength? Itâs one of the things John hates about himself, but Blyke wants that strength so desperately that he risks his life for it over and over again.
Theyâre both desperate to be like each other, even when they hate each other the most. Neither of them have any idea how alike they already are.
I donât know what Season 3 holds in store for us, but I do hope that John realizes that Blyke embodies who he wants to be, because mutual jealousy would be a very interesting dynamic to explore in my opinion. I also hope that it ends up being something they can bond over, by helping each other accomplish their personal goals. (Blyke being another helper in Johnâs character arc, and John helping Blyke train.)
A side note: John beat up Blyke four separate times. Thatâs more than any other character, which is interesting because Johnâs main rival is supposed to be Arlo. For reference, John has beaten Arlo twice, three times if you count the time when Seraphina intervened, and he only beat him unconscious once. But John beat Blyke to the point of passing out all four times, the worst of which being a shot clean through his chest. (shoulder? Unclear. S1 finale).
Itâs odd, isnât it? Out of everyone, Blyke is the one who John physically hurt the most. Johnâs only grudge against him is an old memory from episode 33, of an event that didnât actually harm him. Johnâs grudge against Arlo is much more serious and againâ thatâs his main rival. So why is it that heâs so much more violent towards Blyke?
The problem here is that Iâve been thinking about these fights as âJohn picking on Blykeâ. And thatâs⌠kind of true? But while Blyke didnât start any of these fights, they were all consensual in a way. He didnât seek to fight John, nor was he ever happy about fighting John, but he was always a willing participant.
(138, 153, 206, & 211)
In three out of these four fights, John didnât even expect to be fighting Blyke going into it. This is significant because while Arlo is Johnâs main rival, John absolutely fills that role for Blyke. Blykeâs own agency is what leads to most of these events. The reason, narratively speaking, why they fight so much is not for Johnâs character, but for Blyke.
For John, his reason for fighting Blyke so much is not narrative but moreso symbolic. John is angry at everyone and everything, but ultimately the person he hates the most is himself. Itâs only fitting that the character most like him would bear the brunt of his wrath.
As John is having his positive character arc (suspension and post-suspension), he is becoming more like Blyke, and the two of them reach a point where theyâre even more similar than they were at the start of the series.
In the Rowden amusement park, John does start to realize how similar they are:
(249)
Additionally, I want to draw your attention to the parallels between this scene:
Blyke and Johnâs argument in chapter 249
(which the image limit wonât let me add, scroll until you see red hair.)
And this scene:
Argument in ch. 121 (itâs at the beginning)
Two sides of the same coin.
Furthermore, in the S2 finale, Blyke is shown being taken to Keon. There is an implication that by Season 3, Blyke and John will share Keon-related trauma as well. Despite my pessimistic predictions, I do hope that this is a similarity that can bring them together rather than tear them apart.
#unordinary#I had another point that i had to cut#because it was about the john slaps remi scene#and how like blyke knew he wasnât gonna miss and hit john by accident but john doesnât necessarily know that#and that john assumes the worst (blyke was aiming for his head) bc heâs mad#and blyke also assumes the worst (that john hit remi for no reason). But when i was looking for screenshots to back it up#and i was looking for the one panel where john referred to blyke as âthat idiotic redhead who tried to blow my brains outâ#as proof of john assuming the worst#But then i found it and it doesnât even say what i thought it said#it says âTHREATENED to blow my brains outâ#Smh john didnât even assume the worst. He knew it was jyst a threatening shot even thogh he was mad#And then my whole thing kinda falls apart because blyke assuming the worst is actually just the logical conclusion since he canât read mind#Like how was he gonna know john was having trauma issues#Yargh okay so i think i cut all the parts that donât really make sense but itâs late so this is a low quality proofread#Gonna be honest this is NOT structured very well#Theres more to be said about john hating other people for the same reasons he hates himself#and I didnât quite hit it#but itâs lateeeeeee#something about how Blyke is so similar to john but lacks most of what John hates about himself so John projects his insecuritiesâ#back onto him anyway#Something about in ch 249 when he says something something âbecause I couldnât cope with the fact that you guys werenât actually bad people#Yeah idk im too tired to get into it#blyke unordinary#john unordinary#oh also has something to do with when john says âi may have deserved those classes but they sure as hell donâtâ about keon#i think thatâs significant#analysis#i have a bad feeling that someone in my notes is gonna purposely misinterpret my âgoody two shoesâ blyke statement ngl#âdid you say that blyke is perfect and john is evilâ#like something like that
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You know when the leak came out that they would redeem Kim and she would get with Chozen I was like "Ha they could never, they don't have the guts"
They have the guts apparently.
#the worst part? they could be a fucking power couple#I'm not even mad this chance exists#i just need it to be done right#which I doubt they will do#but anyway#chozen toguchi#kim da eun#if they have chemistry I might like them#also honestly step up for Kim no one deserves to be forever in love with that one guy your grandad trained#even if young Kreese is fine as hell
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