#god i drew them so much i was a mad lad

[reinmeka]

(standing emoji)

[wordsmithings]

Reza furrowed his brows, head tilted slightly to the side, wondering what that one thing was. He didn’t have the time to contemplate as a punch landed on his face, causing him to stumble backwards from the impact. The punch itself didn’t hurt as much: it was obvious to him that Chae had never been into a scuff. But it took him by surprised nonetheless, and he reacted as such.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?!” Reza turned to glare at the other, only to be hit at other places one after another. His arms raised to shield from the onslaught of punches and shoves, steadying himself so he wouldn’t fall flat on his arse. That would be more embarrassing than getting hit in the park, he wagered. “Hey! Okay, I get it!” He tried to stop Chae without hurting him, trying not to throw his weight around and accidentally swing his fist at the lad. It was more difficult than actually swinging his fists, he found, and Reza had to commend himself that he didn’t simply give in.

Eventually, Reza managed to grab both of Chae’s arms and locked them on his side, breathing heavily from the effort. “Okay, I get it. You’re mad at me for leavin’.” He drew a heavy breath and sigh. Gods, he wondered if this was all worth it. How many times had he apologised since he returned? Probably not as many as he should, but it was plenty enough in his opinion. He glanced at Chae’s reddened face, and his brows furrowed as another heavy sigh escaped his lips.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft, his grip around Chae’s arms loosened but not letting them go just yet. He didn’t want to get punched while apologising, after all. “For real this time. I’m sorry. For leavin. For bein’ selfish. For –” Reza took a deep breath, “– for everythin’.”

Are we good now? Chae gave a contemplative look, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he considered this while looking closely at the too handsome features of Reza, doing his best not to react to the gentle stroking of his thumb across the wet spots around his eyes. "Almost," muttered Chae softly, "There's just... one more thing," and without much warning, Chae planted his back foot behind him while swinging with right fist to land a surprise punch against the side of Reza's face.

Chae didn't even know if it landed at the place he had aimed because he was a bit too distracted now by the pain in his hand and he shouted out, "Aish! Ah! Why does that hurt me too? What's the point in punching someone if you get hurt too?" The poor young witch clutched his fist shakily with his left hand and gave Reza -- poor Reza -- another hit, this time it was more of a shove with his elbow, "And you!" His frustration now redirected at the man with full force, "Leaving and then coming back without saying anything! I was worried! After everything we've been through I thought -- I thought we were friends! With everything horrible that happened," his being kidnapped and Reza almost dying in the fray, "I thought something happened to you and no one knew anything. No one! Because you didn't say anything about where you were going! How can you be so selfish! I cried for you!"

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 2 ~It’s Her Cue~

Previously in Sparks Will Fly ...

A slap on his back tore his gaze away from Claire. "Easy now lad," Willie said in a low, amused voice. "Ye look like ye could use the same drink as her."

Jamie glanced back at the subject of their conversation. "Aye, but make mine a double," he whispered.

"On it," Willie replied, laughing as he walked off.

What the bloody hell?  He should be withdrawing himself away from this attraction because this mad instant bond between them was like an overloaded electrical fuse, capable of incinerating him alive. He'd already learnt his lesson from his last relationship. He'd been there and done that, but yet he didn't have the will to stop himself from finding out how their connection would play out.

Oh, Christ, this is bad. So, so bad, I'm in so much big trouble.  Taking a huge sigh, he found himself a stool nearest to the pool table and watched Claire steal the show from the best snooker player in Broch Mordha.

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"Just polishing my balls for the lovely lass, here." 

The people around her howled with good-natured laughter.

Claire kept her head down as she sat on the edge of the stool, chalking her stick, waiting for Hugh to stop showing off and blathering with his mates, and to finally break. She felt eyes on her, and when she looked up, she met Jamie's gaze where he sat with his brother at the high table. 

Annalise leaned in from behind her and whispered, "Ginger can't stop looking at you."

Claire drew in substantial deep breaths. She'd watched Jamie play shinty earlier, and she thought he looked impressive then. Tall, strong, lithe, covered in mud and the epitome of a Highland warrior. Not that she had any idea what a Highland warrior would have looked like. After all, she only had the movie, Braveheart to go by. But who would have thought he'd show any interest in her. Perhaps, because she'd probably looked like she was about to climb him. Who could blame her, though? The moment he'd looked into her eyes, he stirred something inside her, which no man had ever done before him. And by some feat of willpower, she wondered how she'd succeeded not breaking into song right then and there. Up close earlier and now, sat only a few feet away, Jamie looked even better. Wavy auburn hair touched the collar of his plaid flannel shirt and the way his jeans hung low on hips, it shouldn't be even allowed. 

"He probably thinks I'm easy. You know how some rural folks think city people like us have loose morals."

Annalise gasped. "Why do you think he would think that?"

"I think I came on too strong and flirty," she confided in a low voice. "He's a man, so of course, he'd respond, and it probably works a treat for him too since I'm only here for a holiday. But my God, he's one fine specimen of a man, isn't he? I'm even getting butterflies, and the last time I had them ...goodness, I can't even remember." 

"Don't be daft ...you don't even know what he's thinking. Besides, you're single, and you're allowed to show interest if you fancy someone." The ice in Annalise's vodka and tonic clinked behind her. "This is the twenty-first century, and you're welcome to it. Flirt away and get butterflies. Let yourself go a little. I don't know if it applies here, but I'll say it anyway ...what goes on in the Highlands, stay in the Highlands." 

Aww, bless her.

Claire was grateful for her friend's presence in her life. If Annalise hadn't been there to constantly coax her out of her self-consciousness and to confide in to, she'd probably still be living a secluded life, and London would have eventually eaten her whole. Now here she was, openly flirting with a handsome stranger and she'd agreed to let him take her out.

Claire smiled. "How about you? What's happening with you and Willie?"

Annalise made an exaggerated sighing sound behind her, making her laugh. What a tart! 

"Hey, by the way, Jamie asked me out. So I guess, after this game and a round of drink, we're going to split. He wants to take me on a Christmas night tour. Will you be alright with Willie?" Claire asked. She had to make sure as this was their holiday together and she didn't want Annalise feeling abandoned.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. The boys seem like decent blokes, but as a precaution, I took photos of their driving licences and sent them to Geillis. She'll have them thoroughly checked out. Really handy to know someone whose boyfriend works with the police."

Claire's eyes widened, and she turned around to face her friend. "You didn't! I told Jamie I trust him." Geillis Duncan was their mutual friend they'd met in London at a party. After hitting it off, they'd forged a tight friendship, and the three of them became close until Geillis had to move back to her home city of Glasgow when she met the love of her life. Claire and Annalise were going to visit her before flying back to London.

"Of course, I did, silly. We're both on our own. Just because we're on our holidays and having fun doesn't mean we have to be lax when it comes to precaution. Don't worry, it'll be fine." Annalise reassuringly squeezed her arm. "Speaking of protection ...do you have condoms?"

What!?!  Sex was the furthest thing from her mind. But she didn't have time to reply as she saw at the corner of her eye, Hugh finally, leaned across the pool table and broke. As Claire stood up to take her turn, their audience cheered and whooped. 

Ignoring the hoots and whistles, she watched in concentration as the colourful balls rolled, not one of them dropping into a pocket. She began to walk around the pool table, taking in each position of the balls as she tapped her chin. Alrighty Beauchamp, let's have a look, shall we? This should be easy-peasy, lemon squeezy. We'll go for stripes. 

"Ye ken how to play, hen?" Hugh teased, extracting laughter from his friends. "If not, I promise to go easy with my shaft." Another round of loud laughter ensued.

Claire ignored the innuendo, and the sally going on and focused.

First, I'll down that nine-ball hanging over the pocket and use the rail to tap out the eleven, crammed against the twelve. That'll leave open the six, thirteen, and fifteen. Once I drop the fifteen, using a little side spin, that should bring me to the other end of the table. Then I'll sink the eleven and the fourteen into the same corner pocket, gently hitting the ten off the rail in the process, so I don't get stuck later having to bank shot it. Knock in the eight, then I'm clear to finish it off. Good God, Beauchamp, you're so good.

Satisfied with her strategy, Claire leaned over the green felt and positioned herself. Although Hugh's loud wisecrack didn't rattle her, the intensity of Jamie's stare was another matter. Taking a deep breath, she redirected her concentration on her game plan and took her first shot and then another, working clinically and accurately. Unfortunately, their encounter earlier kept creeping back into her consciousness and playing in loops in her head. It didn't help that his scent stuck on to her when he'd caught her after the fall. He smelled of forest and fresh laundry. None of that heavy musky expensive perfumes London yuppies liked to bathe in. It made her want to lean in, bury her face in the crook of his neck and take a deep breath.

Bent at the waist, Claire stretched over the edge of the table and focused on the fifteen-ball and tried not to wince at the memory of openly flirting with Jamie. In her defence, it wasn't every day she was rescued by a very manly bloke who stared at her like he didn't want to let her out of his sight. She wondered if she'd appeared too eager and was totally misunderstanding the look he was giving her. There had been a hint of wariness lurking behind those beautiful translucent blue eyes when she'd agreed to go out with him. Had she said something to cause him to throw up his guard?  

Having gone to a Catholic, all-girls, boarding school, her experience with the opposite sex was limited to the ones she read in romance novels. Orphaned at a young age, her guardian uncle Lamb didn't believe, dragging her across the globe with him was an ideal way to raise a girl, especially when he worked mostly with men in archaeological sites. So he'd decided the best place for her upbringing was with the nuns, right through college.

So when it finally came for her to start adulting and dating in a big, bad city like London, she'd been like a deer caught in the headlights. But she quickly found her feet with the help of her friend and flatmate, Annalise, a Parisienne by birth and a Londoner at heart. The French girl had been a mentor to her, initiating her to the trappings of singlehood and city life. Though the dating and getting-to-know-a-guy part was also an exciting discovery, she quickly realised every date she'd been to, after having gone through a handful of them, was a recycled version of the last. Same lines, same latest fashion, exaggerated backstories and trying too hard to impress instead of being themselves. So at the ripe age of twenty-five, she still had to experience what it was like to have a boyfriend. Annalise accused her of being too picky, but Claire always reasoned she just hadn't met the right one. She'd envisioned her first boyfriend to be someone endearingly awkward, not too loud and maybe a little shy. But Jamie was the least awkward man she'd ever met. He was easy on the eyes, and he lived inside his skin like a well-worn pair of jeans. He was far from a starter boyfriend she'd envision - definitely, not a boy anything.

"Go, Claire! You can do it!" Annalise shouted at the sidelines.

As she marked her shot on the eight-ball, she glanced up at Jamie and felt her focus wobble a bit. When one of the lads emitted a low whistle as she moved her hips to settle herself at a conducive angle, he didn't have a smidgen of amusement on his face. More than anything, he looked liked he was about to knock the front teeth off of the offender.

She didn't want a pub brawl to start in her honour, even if it sounded romantic in movies or books.

Straightening up from her position, she gave Jamie what she thought was a sexy smile. "Hey, Jamie," she called to him. "You got that single malt ready for me? This shouldn't take long." She tried not to blanch for sounding overconfident and cocky. It seemed cheeky for presuming she'd finished this game in a jiffy, but the pleasure of seeing his piercing blue eyes creased at the corners was definitely worth the minor discomfort her behaviour had caused her. Oh, Lordy! There were hushed oohs, followed by a round of testosterone-laced jests, making Jamie shake his head in amusement. At least, to her relief, he stopped looking like he's about to wallop anyone. Trouble averted in the knick of time!

As Jamie turned to get the attention of the bartender, she quickly lowered herself back over the table in the same position and sunk in the remaining balls. When she finished, her opponent, Hugh looked, well …not the least bit pleased about it. It probably didn't help she'd earlier acted cocksure about winning the game and might have dented his macho ego in front of his mates. 

Claire watched Hugh purposely marched towards her as their audience clapped, cheered and teased him for losing to a lassie.

"Ye got me at a disadvantage. I must admit I went easy on you since ye're new around here," he said loud enough for everyone near the pool table to hear. 

Claire gave him a charming smile, even though she felt like throttling him for not being man enough to congratulate her. "I know. Too bad, you assumed I couldn't play because I have a pair of boobs."

Hugh's eyes dropped down to her breast, and his cheek twitched, as he openly leered at her. "I must admit, ye have a lovely pair, and it might have distracted me from playing a good game, now that I come to think about it. Ye ken what ye need? Ye need a good ..."

"Stiff drink?" Jamie interrupted as he handed Claire a glass of single malt. "That's what ye were about to say, aye?"

Jamie's words were mildly pleasant, but she detected the underlying warning in his tone. Hugh didn't look like one to back-off, but when Jamie took a small step forward, he eyed the height and breadth before him and thought better of it. Splitting a forced smile between her and Jamie, Hugh raised both his hands as a sign of truce and slowly walked back to his mates.

With a sigh, she placed her cue stick on the pool table and faced Jamie. "This is fast becoming a habit of yours, isn't it?"

"What?" he asked, taking a step inside her personal space. It was another one of his moves to add to that growing habit list of his. Her old fashion side, the side influenced by her upbringing in the boarding school, wanted her to take a step back. But the side, that suspiciously sounded like Annalise, was shouting at her to hold her ground.

So she held her ground and arched an eyebrow at him. "You coming to my rescue. Again!"

When his mouth expanded into a smile, she couldn't help noticing his full, beautiful lips. With a cleanly shaven angular jaw, they made him looked like an angel who'd spent time in hell. Her breath caught in her throat, and she quickly looked back up, hoping he hadn't noticed her wandering eyes.

His amused expression told her he had. "Ye could say, rescuing ye is one past time that's beginning to grow on me." 

She laughed out loud. It was something she did whenever she was nervous or when shyness overtook, and the most annoying part of it, it was almost always accompanied by a snort. She quickly sobered up. Acting like a loon was definitely beginning to be her nervous signature move.

As if sensing her unease, Jamie quickly changed the subject. "By the way, that was some show ye put on. Ye'll be the topic of everyone's conversation for the next few days. And Hugh the butt of jokes."

"I didn't realise I was playing with a sore loser," she said, taking a sip of her whisky. When the heat slid down her throat, she tried not to flinch. Acting cool wasn't her forte, but she was determined to work on it. "If I'd known, I would have given up my slot."

"Dinnae fash. Hugh's all mouth and no trousers, but he's harmless. So where did ye learn to play like that?" His eyes scanned her face, and he cocked his head a little like he was committing each of her features to memory.

"My uncle taught me. We'd play for hours whenever we get time to spend together."

"Ye're close to yer uncle. That's nice. I hope I'd be that type of uncle one day."

She beamed. Jamie looked like the type of uncle who would have boundless of energy playing with children. "My uncle's for the most part, both a father and mother to me when I wasn't in the boarding school. My parents died when I was young."

His face turned serious. "Sorry to hear that. My parents have always been part of my life, so I can't begin to imagine what it was like for you growing up without them."

Claire gave him a grateful smile as she pulled a vibrating phone from her pocket. "Oh, bummer," she whispered, glancing down at the screen. "I have about fifteen missed text messages. I didn't feel it going off. I must have been caught up with all the excitement of the game." 

He ran a hand along his jaw. "Some lad missing ye back home?"

She hesitated, glancing up at him. "No." She shook her head, vigorously. "It's my friend, Geillis." She skimmed through the messages wondering why there were so many of them. Annalise had sent the photos of the brothers' driving licences to Geillis, and probably something had come up.

"Is everything alright?" he asked as she continued to read the messages.

"It's fine," she squeaked, looking for any incriminating data Geillis might have found. She found none. Instead, what she was reading was making her face heat up.

"Are ye sure? Ye have a troubling frown forming on yer face. Maybe I can help."

She sighed and rolled her head. "Annalise sent the photos of your driving licences to my friend Geillis. And a selfie she took with you and your brother earlier. You know ...to have you check out and see if you're legit. Geillis' boyfriend works with the police you see."

He arched an eyebrow. "And?"

Is he upset? "Don't look at me like that. I told you I trust you."

He laughed. "Like what? Ye're the one who's giving me an odd look. I told ye I was alright with it. So what did she say? Do I get her seal of approval?"

She winced. "Yeah, Geillis says it's all good."

He picked up his whisky from the nearby table. "Geillis sounds like a verra nice friend. I think I like her already. What else did she say?"

She felt the colour drain from her face. "I swear you wouldn't want to hear the rest of it. Geillis is raving mad."

"Try me."

"I think we should leave it ..."

"Come on, Sassenach. It cannae be that bad."

"I'd rather not."

"Go on, humour me." His blue eyes danced, and she marvelled for the umpteenth time at how handsome he was.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you." She shut her eyes for a few heartbeats and puffed out a breath. "Well, she said if you're the same bloke who competed against her boyfriend at caber toss last spring and won ..." Oh dear, God. "...I ...um ...I should let you ground my corn."

He practically choked on his whisky.

She grimaced and wondered if she should thump him on the back. "I'm sorry. Geillis has an odd sense of humour. I'm afraid it's just her way of saying that her boyfriend thinks you're ace ...well, that's if you're really the bloke who he thinks you are."

He recovered quickly and grinned. "How about ye? What do ye think of me?"

She ignored the question. "You haven't confirmed anything to me yet," she said, speaking into her whisky glass. "Did you really win the caber toss competition?"

He looked smugly amused, and the smile that spread across his face already answered her question.

"So you're a tree surgeon who plays shinty and tosses poles in your spare time ...whatever next."

He nodded at her phone when it lit up again. "What else is your friend saying?"

She put her drink down and glanced at the screen. "'She said, the men who participated in this year's caber toss, including you, posed with nothing on but their kilt for a charity calendar."

He smiled. "Aye, that's right."

"And she asked me to ask you if you're wearing anything underneath the kilt because I'm getting the calendar as a stocking filler."

His booming laughter made a few heads turn their way.

"See I told you, she's raving mad." She took another sip from her glass and realised it was empty. Ah, fiddlesticks! "I thought her boyfriend would have mellowed her down a bit, but I have a feeling, she's worse than ever."

He eyed her glass and grinned. "I definitely have to meet this friend of yours."

She felt a twinge of ache in her heart, which took her by surprise. "Annalise and I are stopping at her place in Glasgow before we fly back to London on Three Kings. So you won't be seeing her."

He leaned in closer. "I ken we've only just met. Ye think ye're going to miss me when you go back?" His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Even though she was a right bumbling mess around him, she had to admit she was having too much fun in his company. So much so, she didn't really want to think about leaving yet. Her mind was already racing and wondering if Annalise would agree to celebrate Hogmanay here instead of in Edinburgh. "Well, that depends ..."

"Depends on what?"

Her curiosity to explore the dynamic between them made it difficult to keep her guard up. It was useless trying to fight whatever this was when she was so drawn to Jamie. Surely he must be feeling this too. She swallowed hard and decided to be brave. "If I'll have a reason to miss you," she blurted out before she could change her mind. 

A tiny fraction of the playfulness displayed on his face was replaced by uncertainty ...and Claire's stomach coiled at the proof he wasn't prepared to act on the attraction between them. Whatever his reason was, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know as her guard began to scramble back into place. Oh, God, how could I be so dim? Maybe he's got a girlfriend or a wife ...

"Arbroath Smokies."

Stunned, she looked at him. "Wot?"

"Have ye eaten?"

"Uh, um ...not since midday."

"Weel, hard to fall in love with ..." He took a huge deep breath. "...Broch Mordha on an empty stomach."

"Huh?"

That playful smile was back on his face. "Have ye tried Arbroath Smokies?"

"No. I don't even know what that is."

"Ye have to try it. I know just the place." Jamie glanced over his shoulder. "Come on, let's have a quick drink with Willie and Annalise so we can get out of here." 

And then just like that, he wove his fingers through hers and tugged her towards the bar.

[bigsteeb]

this is gonna be a long post so bear with me, growing pains got a b i g emotional reaction out of me & I need to share my thoughts & feelings about it because jesus fucking christ.

ok first things first, someone hug this boy immediately. he’s sat in his room, still in his pajamas, in day time watching dog copter. this whole scene is just steven going “lol I’m sad, I’m gonna comfort eat & stay in my pajamas & watch a kids show I watched when I wasn’t as sad haha” & it’s not only upsetting, but relatable too fuck. his room is a mess along with him eating ice cream at what I assume is morning… making it his breakfast? geez steven. also idk if it’s just me here but in this shot he looks… bigger? like ignoring his body size shifting later on in the episode he looks a lot wider than he usually does when paul & drew board episodes to me, he’s rivalling etienne & maya’s steven’s wideness. did he… get chubbier from comfort eating? how much time has passed since together forever for him to put on weight if he has? this could literally just be steven slouching or his pajamas making him look bigger but as someone who is an advocate for the body positivity shown in su & suf it has me curious. I want to hug this soft, sad boy. It could also be due to how steven’s design fluctuates through the animation process, it’s never really on model all the time. 

the grunting noise he makes in this scene is very distressing, as are other moments from the episode too. a glimpse at the glow-bracelet he proposed to connie with is enough to physically pain him? fuck me man. is he leaving his room where there’s already ice cream… to get more ice cream? sobs. also the puns in this shot. I cant? slow burn?! you’re evil crewniverse. not to mention his body size changing throughout this scene, god this poor lad.

screams, this was when I started worrying. the boy is now in an environment he has never been in before & is feeling extremely uncomfortable & vulnerable. look at the lines under his eyes, his sad eyebrows & pout I hate it. also don’t even get me started on this part. the slight raise of a voice being enough to send him into panic?! fuck I hate how much I relate to that. 

here’s where I immediately broke, no god damn pun intended. seeing steven’s skeleton, steven’s fucking skull, like this pained me. that crack on his skull is from fucking jasper in jail break. I can’t express all of the visceral emotions that were going through my body at this. there was intense sadness for steven, extreme anger at jasper & the gems for allowing shit like this to happen to him. turns out he’s not as resilient as we thought he was. each hit he takes physically breaks him & then his gem instantly heals his wounds, my heart fucking broke at this. think back to everything that happened to him, everything that physically hurt him. it broke him I can’t deal with it! then there’s what priyanka says to steven next;

“you seem to of made a series of miraculous recoveries, but that doesn't change the fact that you experienced trauma. you’ve recovered physically but, have you recovered mentally?”

this part here along with her reassuring him that there’s nothing wrong with his brain, how childhood trauma can have an impact on how your body responds to stress & how you act in your social life, the usage of the word “cortisol” too. this stuff being in a children's tv show is incredible. the writing for priyanka describes trauma simply enough for kids to understand, but for adults to fully realise too. folks, steven has ptsd. there wasn't one bit of sugarcoating about it or nothing, this is canon fact & it hurts me. for so long have I wanted steven’s emotional issues to be alked about, to not only be brought to steven’s attention but to the audience’s too.

everything that has happened to him has built up to this moment. this moment where his behaviour & coping methods are finally making sense to a large majority of the fandom, & to steven himself. he’s hurting; physically, mentally & emotionally, & he isn’t coping well what so ever about it. his emotional support system is complete garbage, no one regularly checks in on him & folks just take steven at face value like “oh yea glowing pink? he’s fine it’s just steven” but he’s the bad person?! I hope a lot of you out there who genuinely believe steven is a bad person re-think yourselves after this. dealing with trauma is tough as shit. some days you even wonder if that one thing that fucked you up is really worth being labelled as trauma. I still can’t believe this is the route they’re taking, if he doesn’t get some form of therapy by the end of future I’ll be furious.

then things begin to spiral as he remembers what happened with connie. he clutches his chest in pain & begins changing size over intense amounts of stress & it was extremely distressing to watch. steven immediately reassures connie that this isn’t because of her, but because of everything else that happened to him. however. I believe that that’s a slight lie, he wouldn’t of spiralled if he hadn’t of remembered the proposal, steven you fucking himbo. he continues to reassure them both that he’s fine, just that he needs them to leave so he can calm himself enough to control himself.

then this happens.

“I. CAN’T. BE AROUND YOU RIGHT NOW!”

this was fucking intense. he means this literally in 2 ways btw. his body size shifting over the stress he’s feeling is a danger to both connie & priyanka in this moment, but it’s also because of how it started. being around connie hurts him. he’s not mad at her though let me make that very clear, just that thinking about what happened when he tired to propose to her is sending his head in a fritz. he did what he did full of confidence in together forever, for connie to then make him realise how silly he was being. these two are destined for each other, but that advice from ruby & sapphire has really fucked with him. he looks up to those 2, looks up to garnet, their relationship is so strong & stable. for them to give him that advice & to then scream “DO IT!” in his face is incredibly tasteless imo.

then greg gets here. I knew connie was calling for either greg or the gems when she was on her phone as she left the room, fuck yea connie I love you. the breathless, strained “thank you” from steven towards connie for calling his dad? g o d. connie telling him she’ll be there for him when he’s ready?! g o d. these next boards were done by rebecca, I knew immediately when I saw steven’s face. it makes sense that rebecca boarded these, because fuck. 

how do I move on from all of the stuff I’ve been through? how do I live life if it always feels like I’m about to die!?

I’m tearing up as I type this. when I first heard the leak of this audio I so badly wanted to believe it, but to also believe it was fake too. I was an emotional mess off & on for about 3 days over it because I couldn't stop thinking about how fucking distressing it was. like… shit steven. he seriously feels this. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain he felt just saying this in front of his fucking dad. he is hurting badly. this boy, this sweet sweet boy we’ve watched grow & develop into the person he is today is distraught about his future & life. it is… soul crushing to watch this. a group of friends of mine have found joking about the episode as a form of coping with the intensity of it & as much as that’s valid as fuck, any joke coming from this episode feels morally wrong to me. I can’t bring myself to join in it feels terrible even thinking about laughing at it to cope. I love them all, but I can’t bare myself to join them. this moment ending with greg comforting steven, telling him he’s here for him & all of his struggles, got me weeping. greg is possible the best father figure I’ve seen on tv, let alone a kids tv show. he’s amazing.

the final scene right here is lovely. greg making steven a hot chocolate & listening to him vent, reassuring him over his worry for his future. this right here is exactly what steven needs. someone to talk to, someone he could trust to talk about his feelings to. this the start of his support system, tag on peri from in dreams, bis in bismuth casual as well as connie from the past few episodes & it’s already looking great! even when greg eased him about being there for him steven still feels guilty about him leaving his tour, leaving his tour because he got a phone call from connie about his son being in need & steven feels guilty about it. fucking hell man. I did enjoy how the episode ended though, with that little moment between the both of them;

“just get some rest kiddo. you don’t have to solve all of your problems in one night.”

“yea. thanks dad.”

it’s a great message too, all of your struggles can’t be dealt with all at once. I’ve used a similar analogy before but it’s like removing a dead tree. you have to deal with all of the little things surround this issue first before you get to the deep, harder stuff. along side the message about trauma they’re both very important messages, I’m glad they exist in the show.

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one more thing before I end my thoughts & feelings over growing pains.

this ending shot;

as soon as I saw the frog mug my mind raced back to the promo for this scene, & this whole moment to come entirely. if you remember this moment has the first set of leaked audio within it, the audio of the gems basically cornering steven about him not opening up to them. christ pearl even gets mad at him for his gem building a wall behind him, protecting him from them. it’s common knowledge, I hope, that steven’s gem reacts to his emotional state. pearl herself has said this;

“I think your gem is reacting to your state of mind.”

his gem building this wall? it felt like steven was being threatened by them. this scene now has awful connotations with it. because since we now know what the pink mode is doing to steven, how actually painful it is, think back to these;

yea. fuck the gems. I’ll let it slide if steven, greg or priyanka haven’t told them about what happened at the hospital. but if they do know, if they know how much it hurts steven being in his pink mode & still press into him about it I’ll see red. with steven’s trauma & now ptsd being cemented into the show I fucking hope garnet, amethyst & pearl get held accountable for what they put on him as a kid. that shit will not slide with me if they don’t. do not condone what the gems put him through. do not condone the gems for making steven feel like he had to be his mum for them. just… don’t. please.

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All that Was Fair

Chapter 5: You Can Never Go Home Again

Chapter Summary: Jamie and Claire deal with the fallout of her revelation. 

Read on AO3

Read chp 5 below the cut:

Previous, Next

Chapter 5

*

“What do ye mean, ye canna go home?” Jamie asked as his own concern began to ramp up in earnest. 

Claire was trembling again, her hand anxiously squeezing his and her free arm still wrapped tightly around herself. Drawn to comfort her, Jamie gathered her into a one-armed hug and pressed her against him. He could feel her distress pulsing through her like an electric current. 

She rested her temple on his collarbone— deflated by the enormity of what she was saying and desperate for safe harbor— and then she finally expanded.

“I don’t know anything, Jamie, really. But if I’m right, the only way I could return to my plane of existence— to my realm and the seelie court— is to go back through the stones. But I can’t do that, Jamie, I can’t. I think it might kill me.” 

During her revelation, a flurry of emotions was swirling inside Jamie so vehemently that he lost hold on the present for a second. His heart was breaking for her. The thought of being forever stranded in an unfamiliar place— away from her home and people— the terror and loss must have been debilitating. At the same time, some secret part of Jamie was rejoicing. Losing her so soon after she’d dropped into his life and changed him forever would have crushed him. But if she really couldn’t go home, that meant that she would stay with him…. 

Jamie could only dare to hope about the possibilities. 

But as soon as that thought surfaced, he began to feel guilt twisting in his middle. She was quite obviously suffering. Her body was shaking against him, overcome by the gravity of the realization, and here he was delighting in her news. 

Hooking a finger under her chin, he raised her face to look up at him and saw her eyes were glittering with tears. 

“Listen to me, mo nighean donn, ye’re no’ alone. I’m right here wi’ ye, and I willna let anythin’ happen to ye. If this is true, ye can stay wi’ me for however long ye choose, and I will care for ye and see ye safe.” 

Tears dripped from her face and onto his hand where it remained rested gently under her face. She nodded a little against him, lips wobbling as she tried to hold back the tide of her emotions. His heart broke for her all over again. 

“Come here,” was all he could say, and then he was wrapping her fully in his arms. 

She went willingly, all but collapsing onto his chest. Both of her hands clutched one of his arms and she buried her face into his shoulder. The moment their bodies made contact, she began to cry. Hitched sobs escaped her as she tried to contain the onslaught. 

“It’s alright, mo Sorcha, let it out,” he murmured into her hair. 

She did, and simply cried against him as the reality and weight of what was going on truly hit. And all he could do was hold her. 

He didn’t like seeing her like this. Ever since she’d woken up in his arms while he was carrying her down from the stones, Claire had been so incredibly brave. She’d been taking everything miraculously in stride. Curious and inquisitive, she was bold in her explorations and delighted in the human world. Now though, she seemed thoroughly broken. More than wary, she was fearful of the unknown she’d been thrust into without any possibility of return to what she knew. It was one thing to explore, he supposed, but quite another to be condemned to a life of the unfamiliar. 

In that moment, Jamie promised himself that he’d make this world safe for her so that she’d never have to feel this kind of fear again. 

And if she’d let him, he’d walk beside her through it. 

“We’ll sort it out,” he whispered, “no matter what. Together.” 

She nodded against him, tear-soaked face pressing against his shirt. It would surely be stained and damp, but it was of no import. 

He brought a hand up to her neck, cupping the tiny curve of the base of her skull, and began to knead his thumb in gentle circles there. At the same time, Gaelic started to flow instinctively from his lips, and he made shushing sounds in between the mindless reassurances. It’ll be alright. I’m here, mo nighean donn. Dinna weep. All of this and more he whispered into her hair, his lips barely brushing it as he breathed the words. 

A whimper escaped her as she cried, and if his heart wasn’t already shattered into a million pieces at seeing her like this, that tiny sound would have obliterated it. 

He had no idea how long he stood there— holding her as she cried for the life she had lost— but it felt like hours to him. Finally, she began to calm. Her crying subsided and breathing slowed until she went quiet against him. 

Carefully, he drew back to look down at her. The bonny face was streaked with tear stains and her lips looked somehow a deeper color than usual. Her golden-eyes held grief, ringed with red, and moisture beaded on the long, dark lashes. But behind it all was an incredible strength. A determination held in those whiskey depths. 

He cupped her face with both hands and began to gently smooth his thumbs over her cheeks to clear away the tear tracks. 

“Ye’re sae strong. I ken ye’ll be okay no matter what happens,” he told her with complete conviction. 

That brought another single tear rolling silently down her cheek. She held his gaze as it made its slow trail downward, as if pleading for him to make it all better. He wished to God that he had that power. But there was nothing he could do, save perhaps distraction. 

“Here, I have another thing to show ye that I think ye might like,” he said as a thought struck him. 

Letting go of her face to instead take her hand, he led her across the room to the counter where a box of tissues lay. With his free hand, he withdrew one, and then gently used it to clean her face as he explained, “we use them to dry tears and such.” As he wiped away the moisture on her cheeks, one of her hands raised to take the edge between her fingers and rub cautiously. 

“It’s soft,” she commented with a tremulous laugh and a watery smile. 

The way she said it— a hint of her usual delight and awe creeping into her voice despite her sorrow— made Jamie indescribably happy. 

“That’s what I thought ye’d say,” he chuckled fondly. 

It seemed to have been just the thing to help her, because once he’d finished drying her face, she straightened up and mustered another smile for Jamie. 

“Will ye show me more things?” she asked. Her voice was still thick with emotion but she seemed eager to gather herself. 

“Of course,” he said, his tone still laced with soft understanding. 

Jamie’s thoughts raced as he tried to come up with the best thing to show her that would take her mind off things. The TV came first to mind, but he quickly dismissed that as being just a bit too overwhelming for this moment. They’d have to work up to that. Jamie thought about everything he knew Claire liked, and suddenly the perfect idea came into his head. 

“There’s somethin’ I think ye’ll like verra much in the basement. That’s eh— the level below this.” 

His house’s basement was small— just a carpeted room with a couple odd couches, his old tv, and Adso’s litter box haphazardly arranged. Jamie didn’t spend much time down there, and as a result, didn’t bother cranking up the heat enough to warm it much. Being low as it was, it was always cold. 

He led Claire by the hand down the steps. She seemed a bit wary of descending but simply clutched his hand and followed. When they emerged downstairs and he flicked on the lights, her gaze swept over the room. She looked at him inquisitively, obviously wondering what exactly he was going to show her here (it was admittedly quite unimpressive, apparently even to a faerie). 

Giving her a smile, half to reassure her and half in excitement for the kick she was likely to get out of what he had to show her, he strode over to the little machine that lay in between the couches, pointed it toward Claire, and pressed the “on” button. 

“This is called a space heater,” he announced proudly. 

It was a small, portable one, about a foot tall and with one opening so the heat all went in one direction, but it created a remarkable warmth. 

The moment Claire felt the heat emanating from the machine and blowing onto her legs, her face spread into a wide smile. She eagerly leaned down, hands outstretched toward the machine in fascination. A laugh bubbled from her as she delighted in the feel of the hot air. 

But Jamie noticed that she was reaching even closer, and quickly caught her wrist before her fingers could make contact with the heated grate.

“Dinna touch it, it’s too hot,” he warned, “but ye can be jes’ by it.” 

She gave him a single nod, looked back at the machine, and then suddenly plopped down to the floor. Crossing her legs, she scooted as close to the heater as she could and hovered her hands in front of it, just like one would warm their hands in front of a campfire. 

“It’s so warm!” she squealed, and wiggled her fingers, luxuriating in the flow of hot air. 

Jamie was patting himself on the back for how well he was beginning to know her. As much delight as she was getting from the wee contraption, he was getting just as much— if not more— from seeing the carefree happiness return to her bonny face. The smile that lit up his life was turned up toward him as Claire looked for his response. 

“Aye, I believe I have ye all figured out, Sassenach,” he teased, “the way to yer heart is all things soft and warm.” 

She playfully narrowed her eyes, a glimmer of humor there that reassured Jamie immensely. 

“I think I may still surprise you yet, my lad.” 

Jamie laughed. “Och, I dinna doubt it.” 

As Claire turned her attention back to enjoying the space heater, twisting and turning her body so that the warmth touched every part of it, Jamie thought about what to do next. His mind just barely started to leap to long term implications— Christ, his job! He had to work tomorrow. And she’d need clothes. And—

He had to stop himself before he went mad. What he needed to do was to focus on taking things one step at a time. At some point when Claire was well and truly occupied, maybe when she went to sleep for the night, he’d sit down and try to think through everything. But for the time being, he just wanted to continue to distract her so she didn’t fall back into that horrible despair. 

When his eyes refocused on the scene in front of him, Claire looked like she would have been hugging the machine to herself if she was allowed. She was huddled as close to it as she possibly could be, absorbing every bit of warmth. 

“Do ye want tae see more? I could show ye the rest of the house so ye feel a wee bit more comfortable. Ye could ask me all yer questions…” 

Just as Jamie was finishing making his offer, Claire’s hand shot up, grabbed Jamie's, and tugged him down. Startled as he was, he went with her pull, and plopped down on the floor next to her. 

“Just another minute...” she purred, and he could only laugh in response. 

Since Claire was cuddled so close to the space heater, her body blocked any heat from actually reaching Jamie. He didn’t mind, but settled himself slightly further back so that he was behind Claire and comfortably resting back against the bottom of the couch as he waited for her to finish basking. 

To his surprise, Claire scooted backward, shoving her way in between his splayed legs so she could recline against his chest. Jamie was so taken aback— as he always was when she touched him so brazenly, making his mind spin— that he simply complied when she took both of his arms and wrapped them around her. He found himself hugging her from behind as she let out a contented sigh and rested her temple against his jaw. 

There wasn’t a single thought in his head about what he was doing as he instinctively turned his face just a bit to press his lips to the soft skin of her temple. 

She didn’t seem to mind at all. She didn’t even react. But the second after he did it, a wave of guilt surged over him. It wasn’t his right to kiss her like that; Claire wasn’t his to kiss. Sure, she’d initiated all this contact that made his heart flutter, and sure he was absolutely falling for her, but he’d known her for only two days. Her entire world has just crumbled out from underneath her feet, and he was her only anchor. He couldn’t possibly take advantage of her with his romantic inclinations. Not to mention, she wasn’t even human. Although for some reason that argument didn’t dissuade him as much as the thought that Claire might feel obligated to return his affections in exchange for his help. He couldn’t do that to her. It wasn’t fair. 

He wanted to run away from her, to withdraw himself and put some distance between them so he could finally think clearly. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be able to control himself when she nestled up so close to him like this. But the thought of withholding physical comfort which she so clearly desired, even needed… it was intolerable. So he stayed put. 

Claire was completely unaware of the turmoil going on in Jamie’s mind, and she sighed contentedly against him. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest as it nudged his with each inhale and exhale. That feeling of closeness did nothing to help the clenching of affection in his heart. 

Damn it, Fraser, pull yourself together. You can be her friend— her guide— her protector— but leave foolish notions of anything more out of it. 

She tilted her head to peer up at him. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, apparently seeing the expression on his face that must have been something close to heartbreak as he agonized over her. 

“Jes’ fine,” he mustered a smile, “have ye had enough warmth now tae get ye through a wee walk about the house?” 

She chuckled at that, and it sent vibrations through her that Jamie could feel reverberate through his own body. 

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of this, but I’m ready for what else you have to show me.”

***

Next

[words-for-holland]

Quarantine Series: Breaking Friendships

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Exactly how much does Tom truly love Y/N to let her win at Uno?

A/N: Let me know if you want to be in the Taglist for TSOL or Quarantine Series!

Check the Rest: Burnt Out | A New Look | Secret Cuts & Kisses |

It was Day Who-The-Bloody-Hell-Knows in Quarantine at Holland Home, and this time our favorite household members decided to focus on their own activities except for one.

Tom and Harry were busy working on their script, while Y/N was catching up on the shows her friends were begging her to watch. As for his best friend Harrison, he was completely bored out of his mind that no amount of filming crazy instagram videos could suffice the boredom. That is until he suggested a simple yet deadly game that everyone could ply. A game that could break all friendships and relationship. A game that goes by the name UNO. 

“Come on lads, and lady lad. One game, just one game.” Harrison pleaded.

Tom, Harry, and Y/N, looked at him with concern. Sure the three of them understood how bored he was, but Uno always seemed like a game only younger kids would get into. Then again, they did spend the first few months in Quarantine playing jigsaw wars. With time the group reluctantly gave in and sat around the table. Tom was on the left, Harry was on the right, while Harrison sat directly across from Y/N. Harrison shuffled and split the cards, explaining the rules. “Okay, so the rules are simple but I wanted to make it more interesting. Every time you place a 0, everyone has to give their set of cards to the person on their left. If you place a 7, you can switch your deck with anyone. One more thing, if you have cards that say draw 2 or 4, you can pile them to avoid drawing cards. Got it?”

The group nodded in agreement, and soon the game has just begun. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time a game of UNO got this intense. Each time Tom was about to call Uno, Harry would beat him to it, making him reset his hand. “Damn it Harry! Really? You always do this to me!” Tom yelled out in frustration. 

Harry had his fair shares of frustration every time Y/N drew, she made him skip his turn. “Sorry Harry, but it was the only card I had.” She chuckled, placing down a yellow skip. 

“What did I ever do to you?!” Harry squealed. 

Harrison was crying in agony as he realized that his last two cards weren’t any yellow cards.”Heart of the cards. Heart of the cards.” He muttered as he pulled a card from the deck. Harrison sighed in relief as he placed down a Draw 2 for Tom, which Tom was able to avoid as he placed down a Draw 2 for Y/N. Y/N continued the Draw 2 streak, passing it on to Harry. Yet, Harry managed to pull out a Draw 2 from his hand. All four were screaming at how intense the game was getting, praying that none of them were going to be that person, who would have to draw 8 cards. Y/N more than anyone else, knowing her hand no longer contained a Draw 2. 

She looked at Tom as he looked into her eyes. "If you love me you won't pull out a Draw 2.” Y/N thought in her head. She tried her best to show off that adorkable smile that he loved so much, and couldn’t possibly say no to. Unfortunately when it came to games, Tom gets very competitive, but that didn’t mean he loved her any less. 

He flashed back his adorkable smile in return and spoke, “Y/N. You know how much I love and how much you mean to me right?” he said trying to hold in his laughter.

“Dont--” she warned him, knowing what he was gonna do.

“I love you so much!” he sang. 

“You’re gonna make me draw 10 aren’t you?!” Y/N squeaked. 

Tom rubbed her back and tried to comfort her. “No, darling. No...I’m gonna make you draw 12.” As he pulled out a Draw 4, Y/N’s mouth dropped to the floor. After being together all this time, this is how he treats her?! By making her Draw 12 cards?!

Y/N slowly got up and walked away from the table as she headed into their shared room to scream out the frustration. Harrison and Harry looked at Tom, surprised at what he had just did. “Um, I don't know about you, but if you wanna save yourself a fight and sleep on a bed. I think you should go out get her some Oreos and flowers or something.” Harry said, stifling a laugh. 

Tom nodded as he walked out calmly and ran for the kitchen and garden, while Harrison calmly put down his last card softly calling out “UNO?”. 

Tom grabbed the an unopened box of Oreos and picked up a single rose from the garden outside as suggested by his younger brother. He really hoped Y/N wasnt that mad at him. She had to know it was a joke right?

Of course it was all silly. Y/N was never the type to become a sore loser, even if Uno was the menacing demon that sought out to break all friendships and relationships.

“Darling.” He knocked on the door as he cautiously entered the room. “Are you okay?”

Y/N jumped up from the bed as she made her way to open the door. There, Tom was greeted with a much delighted version of his girlfriend, smiled and all. “Was wondering what took you so long.” She rolled her eyes playfully, pulling him into the room. “I missed you.” Y/N says as she leans into her boyfriend intaking his scent.

Tom wrapped his arms around Y/N as best he could, given with all the stuff he grabbed for her. “We were just together half an hour ago.” He chuckled into her hair, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah but that was a half hour too long. Plus I missed having this alone time together.” Y/N explained as she reluctantly pulled away from his embrace. “Oh my god, Im an ass I didnt even realize you brought stuff up here.” She took the Oreos and the flower from his hands setting them on the side of the bed.

“It’s okay. Actually I brought them up because I wasn’t sure if you were upset from the game or not because I didnt let you win.” He laughed grabbing her hands.

“Of course I wasnt. It sucked to lose but to be honest I was kinda releived because I was able to come up here and just watch my show in peace.” Y/N looked back at the Oreos and flowers, then looked right into to Tom eyes. “But...if losing and being upset means getting all this and you...then yeah Im mad as hell.” She laughed.

“Oh yeah...how mad?” He said, smirking as he got closer.

“Extremely...Im furious.” She whispered, continuing to close the gap between them.

As Tom continued to lean in closer he paused for a moment. “You know if it really meant that much to you I would always lets you win.” He whispered back.

“I know. I’d do the same for you.”

“No you wouldnt.” He giggled at her.

“You’re right I probably wouldnt.” She spoke out before closing the gap between them. Feeling his lips against her own, melting away into their own bliss.

Taglist:

@stan-ish230403

[pyrrhesia]

FF14Write - ‘Fluster’

In which Cwenthryth Sadler feels a pull.

Aislona’s still @catpella’s.

It had been an empty few months for Cwenthryth Sadler. She'd spent much of them drinking. Drink pushed the memoriesto the back of her head. Yeah... she'd had a good thing going, once. Had herself a job. Had herself a woman. Screwed it all up, though, hadn't she. Taking Monetarist coin, looking the other way. Coming clean about it all. Not that she'd had much choice. "Just tell me," Aislona had said. "Just tell me you didn't know. Tell me you didn't stand by and let this happen." She knew what to say. She just couldn't say it. The lie stuck in her chest, like they always did. "They would have killed us both. Like what happened to Wilred--" "Gods, you knew?" "I tried to keep him quiet. He wouldn't listen. Now he's dead. We're alive, and can--" "Stop, just... just stop, Cwen." Aislona pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just can't believe you think like this. Did you think? Or did you just let it wash over you? Did you care for even a second--" "I cared. But it didn't matter, or mean anything." Cwenthryth tried to reach for Aislona's arm, but she snatched it away. "We're alive. And we can still make a difference." "'We'?" Aislona laughed, grimly. "'We' are over, Cwen. I need to be with people I can trust to watch my back, not slip a knife into it." Cwenthryth gasped. Words formed and collapsed in her mouth, nothing seemed able to dam the flood of... of whatever this was. All she could say in the end, was, "You can trust me." Aislona looked into the middle distance, biting her lip as the night masked the wetness of her eyes. "I wish I could," she said, before turning to leave. Cwenthryth, unconscious, grabbed her arm, but the roegadyn yanked it away, leaving her fingers trailing one last time on her smooth skin. Some time later, Cwenthryth said, for the first time in her life, "I love you." But the empty alley had no answers for her. Yeah. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Memories and nothing more. It had been a good thing, nothing more. She'd slept with plenty of people since. Some of them had even talked to her first. Whatever. She'd find her way back on her feet. Still... there was a frustration. A restlessness. She kept her head down, these days. It was all she could do. Lurked in shadows on the fringes of civilisation, grew out her hair to try and differentiate herself from her wanted poster - a poor likeness, in truth, and it had misspelt her name, anyway - figured if the Braves hadn't forgiven her she must be doing something right. But she still had to watch, and wait, careful to nurse her pint anonymously at the corner of the room as two bluecoats bankrupted themselves on ale. Cwenthryth kept track in the back of her head. C'mon, lads, she knew they didn't pay you enough for this much... Oh well. All to her advantage. In time, they left. She followed. Better a wolf than a sheep.

Ultimately she'd left them alive, out of pity. Besides, one had told her something very interesting, which was why she was now camped on the outskirts of Halatali, watching and waiting. It was a mad thought of redemption that had brought her here, and she cursed herself for it regularly. She had no chance of an assault head-on, but perhaps if she could cause enough chaos... and guards dropping dead to arrows from an unseen vantage point tended to cause chaos. She'd seen Raubahn take half an opening before. If she could just give him that much again... The thought of getting help never occured to her. Besides, who would listen to her? Neither fish nor fowl, Scion nor Brave... Her ears pricked up. She heard the wagon trundling down the road. Would that she had a better ambush planned, but... she tensed and strung her bow, slipped her quiver over her back, heard the faint movement behind her back and turned with a single, fluid motion, driving her dirk forward-- -- it deflected off a raised spear and clattered out of her hand. The image clarified. Cwenthryth drew in a sharp breath. "Aislona?" The towering roegadyn smiled, mirthless. "You'd really have all the fun without me, Cwen?" Confusion won out over confusion. "Fun? I wasn't here for fun." "I meant--" "I'm not playing games. This is an ambush. It's more killing. It isn't fun," said Cwenthryth, increasingly agitated. "But I have to. They can't just--" "You're here for Raubahn?" "Yes. I heard off one of the blue-coats. Can't just let them take him." There was something knowing in Aislona's look. "Then, perhaps... no, look, you'd best come with me and see the others." They walked in silence for a time. Cwenthryth's heart raced. So much to say, so little felt right. Eventually, she heard: "It's good to have you back, Cwen."

It was not an opening they won, in the end. Aislona had brought the strength to simply assault the prison complex head-on. Cwenthryth fought well, cold-blooded and fearless, as she always had. It was not remarkable, in her mind. This was the one thing she'd ever been good at. And the focus of her task let her tune out the looks her comrades were giving her. The day was theirs. They secured their quarry, repulsed the enemy and emerged to the setting Thanalan sun. Cwenthryth sighed, shouldered her bow and started to walk away. Her work was done. Surely they wouldn't want her to linger. After all, as Aislona had told her... "Where are you going?" Not that. Cwenthryth looked back, saw Aislona coming her way. She shrugged. "Away. Somewhere." Aislona cocked her head. "Why?" "Because it's over." "No. It's not over, not even close." "Yeah, well." Cwenthryth shrugged again, and tried to swallow the pain. "Doubt you'll want anyone around you can't trust. Doubt you've got much reason to take me in." Aislona's expression softened. "Cwen... where do you even have to go to?" Cwenthryth glared back. "Don't take pity on me. Don't you ever dare take pity on me. I made my choices, and this is where it's got me. I looked the other way as... as everything turned to shit, and it's too late now to say you didn't mean what you said back then, lost too much time thinking on them over and bloody over, about how I'll never be..." She drew out a hissing little breath, and turned back towards the road. "I was never going to be what you deserved. Stupid of either of us to think any different." She made it a few steps before hearing Aislona say, "You're right, I meant everything I said... then. But I'm still sorry. You did a good thing today, Cwen. Nobody made you do it, nobody paid you to do it. I know you're capable of more." Stubbornly, she kept walking. Until she heard the footsteps behind her, and arms wrap around her, and her body sank back into the embrace. "Please stay." It was all, really, she needed to hear.

[delcat177]

The "Sunday School Stories are always good" tag reminds me that despite having NO religious upbringing I've always been enamored with Noah's Ark because it's just like, this one man went through all that trouble to save all the animals!! It's so sweet! The idea that he probably even saved ones he didn't like or was scared of because God made them and he recognized their value!

I'm surprised that it's not brought up in like, conservation-related outreach to religious groups more, like Noah didn't save all those animals so you could let them go extinct because they don't benefit you!

I kinda went on a tangent there but point is that I love Noah's Ark so much I wanna get like a little handmade wooden ark playset or something because it just makes me happy!

WORDDD

Let me tell you(s), as someone who was in church for his entire childhood, Sunday School meant a story and a craft, and I was ALWAYS crossing my fingers for the same ones: Jonah and the Whale, Noah and the Ark, and Easter was especially fun because that was the annual to-do about Moses, and that meant ANIMALS and PLAGUES. Granted the animals WERE the plagues but I got to keep the flannelboard frogs one year, that shit was MAD RAD.

(We also made a lot of cottonball sheep, Lord is my Shepherd and cottonballs are 97 cents for 200 so it was economically feasible)

One of my early childhood toys was a fabric ark that came with pockets on the side, so when you put the fabric animals (two of each, assorted zoo) and Noah and his family in, it looked like they were smiling out the windows. I’d forgotten until now and I don’t know how I did, I’m suddenly sense-memory’ing it SO hard--the stitch on the giraffes, the little goofy 8) smiles on the family. I loved just taking them out and putting them back in again and sailing them around.

I also enjoyed playing out the grisly fates of those not in the Ark in the bathtub (SEE: LAST POST: “Onward came the meteors!”). I was always a dark creator, it was too much fun to resist.

I wasn’t the one who drew dots on the foreheads of the people in one of our coloring pages in green marker and went “They have the Mark of the Beast now!”, that was a church friend. When the Sunday school teacher asked “why would you do that?! they’re going to go to Hell now!!” she responded “because they’re BAD and I WANT them to go to Hell”, giggling wildly, and the teacher couldn’t really put down a six-year-old, so it became a weirdly warm moment.

Exvangelical is some wild shit, I assumed all these things were the average household experience and now they’re my water cooler “so hey wanna hear a fucked one” among my writing group/friends/mutuals. I might get a book out of it yet 8V

TL;DR omg yes, ark playsets are the best <333 There’s one in Thief of Always (Clive Barker) that is like a plot point and the way he describes it, hand-carved by his father and with one elephant with mismatched eyes because he ran out of blue paint..there’s just something there, y’know?

(I would like to wish all of my Jewish followers a happy sorry we colonized your religion, I hope it’s okay to agree that Moses and Noah were mad lads and there is Respecc)

[nah-she-didnt]

Toujours Aimé

Read on AO3!

Four fifteen year olds, a bottle of fire whiskey, quill ink, and a sewing needle do not mix well together. 

**Disclaimer:** sitck and poke tattoos scare the shit out of me and I only vaguely know how they work, so kids, don’t try this at home! And definitely don’t let a fifteen year old dumbass (affectionate) sitck and poke you in the woods with only fire to sanitize... 

--

“OUCH!” James yelped dramatically. 

“Hold still!”

“I can’t! You lied, you said this wouldn’t hurt a bit!” 

“I said it wouldn’t hurt that bad, you big baby. I’m repeatedly stabbing you with a needle, of course it hurts!”

“I am not a baby! I just wasn’t properly prepared for the pain and suffering that I would have to endure for this.” 

Bemused, Remus shook his head. He was trying very hard not to laugh at his friend’s surprisingly low pain tolerance, for at this moment Remus was trying to keep his hand as still as a statue has he held the needle next to James’ skin. 

“It’s a stick and poke tattoo, James,” said Remus patiently, “the stick and poke part should have been a dead giveaway. Now, will you sit still so that I can finish this?”

James sighed, slumping back against the tree stump behind him. “Alright then, just hurry up. Muggles are mad, mad! I don’t know why I ever agreed to this in the first place!” 

“Because it looks badass,” smirked Sirius, “Admit it, you’re hoping Evans will swoon when she sees that snitch across your shoulder blade when you inevitably take your shirt off in the common room gain.”

James blushed furiously. “Shut it.”

“I don’t think Evans seems like a tattoo-girl,” said Peter thoughtfully, “she’s rather uptight, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Principled,” protested James, “she’s principled, not uptight.” 

“Yeah, and her first principle is that you are an absolute git.” 

“Shut it again.” 

Remus loved nights like this. There were only two weeks left in the summer holidays, and then they would start their fifth year at Hogwarts. The lads had gathered at The Potters’ house earlier that day to set off on a muggle camping trip. They’d hiked to the top of a wooded hill for about two hours before they found the perfect spot, set up camp, and ate overcooked sausages and lukewarm beans from tin cans as the sun set. They were currently sitting around the fire passing around a bottle of Ogden’s under the vast sea of stars above. 

Sirius had brought up a tattoo a lion that he’d seen on the forearm of a man in the muggle village they passed on their hike. Remus casually mentioned the process of how muggle tattoos were performed, and before he knew it the marauders were insisting that Remus tattoo them all there and now. Once he reluctantly revealed that he did indeed have a sewing needle in his camping pack the boys were decided. 

Remus paused his poking to observe his work. He was currently working on the outline of a snitch across James’ right shoulder blade. He was pleased to note that the tattoo looked rather realistic. Remus couldn’t help but be impressed with himself, he always had a knack for drawing. 

“Peter, distract me,” panted James, still shutting his eyes tight against the prick of Remus’ needle. “Have you decided on yours yet?” 

“How about a wheel of cheese?” Sirius said seriously, putting a finger to his chin as if deep in thought, “Or, perhaps Mickey Mouse, right across your left bum cheek. That will surely impress the ladies,” 

“Shove it,” barked Peter, looking annoyed. He was a bit sensitive about his animagi form and all cheese-related humor. “I thought about maybe the Hogwarts crest? Or a ‘G’ for ‘Gryffindor.” 

Remus shook his head. “It needs to be something personal to you, something with hidden significance. It should be something only you fully understand, but that those who are close to you can recognize and appreciate.” 

“Damn, Moony,” grinned Sirius, “that was deep.” 

“I have my moments,” Remus said, blushing slightly.

“Right, I’ve picked mine then!” cried Sirius, clapping his hands together for emphasis. 

“Go on, then,” James prompted.

Sirius paused for dramatic effect, then threw his arms into the air for emphasis. “It’s going to be a wolf howling at the moon!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Remus’ needle lay limp in his hand as he let Sirius’ pronouncement sink in.

“A wolf... You mean like a....” James began cautiously, as if he wanted to be incorrect.

“Yeah, like Moony, get it?” Sirius beamed. “You know, because if we hadn’t met Moony and -- you know -- werewolf Moony, then we wouldn’t be the marauders that we are today!” His face was starting to falter now, as if he realized that this idea was not popular among the group at large. He frowned defensively. “The secret that really drew us together, the reason we did all that damn work to become animagi last year. Don’t you guys think that’s the perfect thing to commemorate?” 

Remus’ heart had sunk into his stomach. The idea of his secret, the horror that lived so close to his surface every day of his life, would be displayed so publicly was almost to much to bear. So too was the idea that he himself was asked to etch his greatest shame onto his best friend’s skin. 

“Mate, I don’t think that’s the best idea...” said James, a warning tone starting to grow in his voice, “maybe you should pick something else.” 

“No, listen,” Sirius implored, “It’s going to be so cool. It could be like, I dunno, howling at the moon, or running through the woods, or--” 

“Tearing itself apart, alone, in the shrieking shack?” Said Remus, his expression cool. 

No one spoke. For a few moments all that could be heard was the crackling of the campfire and the rustling of the trees in the night breeze. Remus did not take his eyes off of James’ skin as he finished the last of the snitch. 

“Look, Moony--” Sirius started, then seemed to catch himself, “Remus, that isn’t what I meant. But you’re right,” he looked panicked then, “you’re absolutely right, I shouldn’t have said that. Of course you wouldn’t want that, I was just being stupid. I only meant--” 

“I know,” said Remus quickly, “I know what you meant. Let’s just drop it, alright?”

Sirius gazed intently at Remus for a beat, then nodded, “Alright, we’ll drop it.”

The four boys sat in awkward silence, watching Remus finish James’ tattoo. Once he was done, he put down the needle and stretched. “Alright, mate, you’re all set. Sorry that I don’t have a lollipop to give you for being such a good boy.” 

“A what?” Asked James, flexing his right arm after over half an hour of sitting still. 

“Never mind. Alright, who’s next?” 

Peter and Sirius looked at each other. “I still haven’t thought of anything good,” shrugged Peter. 

Sirius looked into his lap. “Yeah, well, neither have I, obviously.” 

Remus sighed. This was certainly not how he’d hoped the night would go. He started to clean the dirty needle in the campfire flames. There is absolutely no way this is sanitary, he thought to himself, these better not get infected because if James has to go to St. Mungo’s for ink poisoning his mum will murder me.

“What about Sirius?” asked James.

“What about me?” 

“No, git, what about ‘Sirius’ the star? What if you got the constellation, what’s it called again? Anus Major?”

“Canis Major,” corrected Sirius quickly, “I dunno, I suppose that could be good. But it’ll just remind me of my dear old mum and dad, and my family’s insane obsession with stars as family names.” 

“How about a beater’s bat?” suggested Peter hopefully.

“Seems a bit obvious,” shrugged Sirius. “I need something obscure, something that has meaning.” 

“Toujours aimé“ whispered Remus. 

The boys looked up. “What?” asked James. 

Remus lifted his head and looked Sirius straight in the eye. “Toujours aimé, french for ‘always loved.’ You know, a spin on that ‘toujours pur’ ‘always pure’ nonsense.” 

Sirius looked dumbfounded. He sat staring at Remus with glassy eyes as something in his head seemed to click. He then smiled wider than he had all evening.

“My god, Moony, that’s it! It’s wicked cool, a big ol’ ‘fuck you’ to mum and dad, and it’ll look great on.” Sirius hurried quickly over to take James’ place next to Remus. He rolled up his sleeve and pointed to his forearm. “I want it right along here, along my left forearm. So they’ll know there’s no room for the dark mark they surely want to put there.” 

Remus smiled at his friend’s conviction. Sirius was ever the Gryffindor. 

---

Several hours later Remus lay wide awake staring at the roof of the tent. He’d tattooed ‘Toujours Aimé’ down Sirius’ left arm as requested. He’d chosen a simple yet elegant cursive for the font, and shaded the letters so that they seemed to pop against his soft skin. Remus shook his head vigorously. He had to stop thinking about how soft his best mate’s skin was. Or how his forearm muscles clenched as Remus stuck the needle into his skin over and over again. How Sirius would wince at the pain, sucking in a sharp breath so close to Remus’ ear--

“Remus?”

Remus started out of his memory. Sirius was sitting up on his elbows, looking at him from across the snoring forms of James and Peter. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you awake?”

“Nope, just a perceptive sleep talker.” 

“Ha. Well, I can’t sleep with these trolls. Fancy a walk?”

Remus nodded, taking care not to kick Peter in the head as he pulled on his long pants before stepping through the tent flap into the cool night air. He and Sirius fell into an easy step next to one another as they made their way back to the campfire. A few small embers still glowed in the hearth. 

Sirius looked intently at Remus. “Remus, mate, I have to say again how sorry I am. That must have been awful for you, the idea that I would put you on display like that. That I could risk your secret. I shouldn’t have said it, I just got caught up in the excitement. You know, everything we’ve achieved and everything we’ve done together. I never knew that friends like you lot were possible growing up. I still can’t believe sometimes how lucky I got when I met you... you know, uh, all of you,” Sirius corrected himself. 

Remus nodded as Sirius talked and waited until he was sure that Sirius had finished his apology. He was trying very hard not to make eye contact with Sirius for he was sure that his eyes would display the emotion he felt at Sirius’ words. He, too, had never known that friendship like this was possible. Remus had spent so much of his childhood completely without the company of anyone who could be considered a true friend. The day he’d met the marauders had changed his life. He understood completely Sirius’ hunger to brand himself with the connection they’d all forged. Finally, he smiled, looking back into Sirius’ face.

“I know all of that, mate. I know exactly how it feels. My life completely changed the day I met you -- and James and Pete, of course. I know you don’t see me as the wolf. It just throws me off, you know, every time I remember that you all know that part of me. I hate that you have to know that part,” he spat bitterly. 

Sirius put his hand on Remus’ knee. “I love that part of you. I love every part of you, Moony. You’re my best mate.” 

Remus smiled, suddenly embarrassed. “Come on, mate, be serious,” 

“I am Sirius.”

“I really walked into that one, didn’t I?” 

“Prat,” Sirius grinned.

Remus took a deep breath. “You know, that’s why I suggested ‘always loved.’ Because your parents and their mania aren’t what matter most to you. You know you would die for your friends, and that they would die for you, because the love you. Because we do, you know, love you.” 

Sirius looked into the fire now, nodding slightly at Remus’ words. Remus was sure that he could see tears forming in his friend’s eyes. Sirius sniffed loudly and slapped Remus’ knee with the hand that still lay there. 

“Come on, enough of this sappy nonsense. What say we finish off the rest of the Ogden’s and go to bed? We’ll surely have a long day of listening to James whine about his tattoo hurting all the way home tomorrow.” 

--

An hour later, when he was back in his sleeping bag, staring up at the ceiling again, Remus couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to have his friends. They could have so easily denied him when they found out who he was, but instead they changed their whole lives for him. He felt his chest swell with emotion at the thought of all they’d done for him, the thought that they’d achieved the impossible for him... the thought that less than an hour ago Sirius had his hand on his knee.

Remus groaned quietly, rolling over to stuff his face into his pillow. He clearly had much bigger problems on the horizon than whether or not James got ink poisoning. f

[renee-writer]

The Diary of Life Chapter 8 Stress and Trouble

He takes out his phone to call her and it is ringing. She is calling him. He grins broadly as he answers it.

 

“Well, speak of the devil.”

 

“The devil, eh?”

 

“I was just about to call you.”

 

“Ah, I heard that Frank just showed up at your house. I am so sorry.”

 

“Dinna fash lass. I didn’t mind. The lad has a lot of good information.”

 

“I am glad truly. Just didn’t want him to cause trouble. Theo is mad, I hear.”

 

“Why because he came over without calling?”

 

“Yes. Thought he was being pretentious.”

 

“You can tell your brother that he needn’t fight with his husband. That truly all is okay.”

 

“Thank you, I shall.”

 

“Grand. I was calling to ask you out to dinner. The White House has grand food and even a band.”

 

“Sounds lovely. What time?”

 

“Meet me here at seven.”

 

“I shall. See you then.”

 

As he has some time before seven, he turns to Elizabeth’s diary.

 

‘’My poor husband. That Redcoat bastard took him away because he hit me! Treated me like a whore even though I told him I was Lady Broch Taruan. That my husband is Laird. Not that he listened. Jenny didn’t help much. She treats me like the Redcoat does. We’ll, I won’t be sitting around waiting on them to bring him back. I am going to Castle Leoch for help.

 

We have rescued him, Thank God! He is badly beaten but nothing else. They are rumors that that particular Redcoat tortures his victims. He had no time to do thus to Jamie. Nor will he to any other. He is dead. Attacked by a herd of cows. But I made sure. Drew my husband’s sword and ran him through. I will seek forgiveness but can’t be sorry. He hurt my husband. For that he deserved death.

 

Paris is nice. Jamie has adjusting well to working for Jarrod. He hasn’t been as blessed with the relationship with Jenny. We have sent seed and coin to help. As I cradle our first son, Jamie reads a letter he got back from one of the tenants. It is the only way he has to communicate with Lallybroch. He says that the seed and coin are put to good use. That Ian must hide where it comes from. Jenny is a stubborn woman!

 

We are staying in France but teaching the lads Gaelic. Jamie and I wish for them to have their heritage. Jamie says that I must learn it too so my boys won’t know more then me.

 

The letters are being returned. I don’t know if something has happened to Ian. I pray not.”

 

He looks up, realizing it is time to get ready. He changes clothes and brushes his hair out right before the doorbell rings. Once again he is struck by her beauty and her resemblance to Elizabeth. Questions fill his mind but he will see her feed first.

[hermionegranger56]

ok lads its time for my breakdown of folklore, something absolutely no one is asking for but here we are!! this album. thIs ALBUMMMM. dear GOD. the intersection of my two favorite things, taylor swift and indie folk???? i feel like i’m dreaming. when she announced the surprise drop i literally burst into tears and evidently for good reason lol.

anywho here’s the thing. Red has been my all time favorite album for 8 years now. it holds such an important place in my life and i never thought anything she did could come close (though Lover almost did). but this. THIS IS BETTER THAN RED

the lyrical genius is unmatched here. taylor isn’t just writing songs here, this is POETRY. every song is nuanced, intricate, devastatingly beautiful, with words that’ll haunt me for a long time. and the fact that it’s stories, literal folklore, no longer just about her own life is incredibly creative and is executed so well for someone who has interwoven her life into her entire body of music thus far. folklore blends facts with fiction so seamlessly and is a true exhibition of taylor’s power as a songwriter.

and the vibessss!! from haunting heartbreak songs, to ethereal lost-in-the-woods vibes, to a comforting return to her old self, this album has everything. taylor is without a doubt one of the most versatile artists of our generation, having success and skill in multiple genres and folklore only solidifies this fact.

ALL RIGHT KIDS LETS JUMP IN

the 1: hell yeah explicit tswift give it to me lol you ARE on some new shit!! ok when i first listened to this i hadn’t read her statement about the other perspectives and i was about to RIOT about her and joe breaking up (like they could ever lol). this is such a catchy beat, such a casual?? look at such a painful feeling? a really good start to this album. the part where she goes another day waking up aLONE killlllllls me wow

fave lines: “in my defense i have none/for never leaving well enough alone”

cardigan: (don’t get me started on the mv it’s gorgeous) YES THE TEENAGE LOVE TRIANGLE suchhh a good concept!! the melody of this song is unreal, the chorus makes me want to scream it’s so beautiful, the i-i-i is SOMETHING ELSE. it’s crazy how just the melody makes betty’s pain so palpable, but so enchanting at the same time. it’s bittersweet and cinematic and i’m in love. PETER LOSING WENDY GOD. easily top 5 song here

fave lines: “when you are young they assume you know nothing”, “cause i knew you/ heartbeat on the high line/ once in 20 lifetimes i” “you drew stars around my scars/but now i’m bleeding”

the last great american dynasty: watch hill!!! her watch hill house!! i live near there!! oh i think this song is so clever and i love how it ties into mad woman as well as harkens back to starlight. i LOVE the way she ties her self in, “and then it was bought by me” like ughhh her mind? and its catchy AF

fave lines: “i had a marvelous time ruining everything”

exile: YOU KNOW HOW TO DO AN INDIE ALBUM??? BRING BON IVER INTO THIS SHIT!! wowww this song is haunting and is definitely the “i’m you but stronger” version of The Last Time. the overlap of both of them singing and their parallel lines are flawless. i could play this on repeat for hours and contemplate my whole existence

fave lines: “you never gave a warning sign/i gave so many signs”

my tears ricochet: ok somehow a track 5 with tears in the title is not the saddest song here but DAMN is it good. I love the visual of someone watching over their funeral and reacting. the music is stunningggg here. ALSO i am pretty convinced this is about the whole scott/scooter drama, like the lyrics fit so well? and she said it was the first song she wrote so the timeline kinda fits?? geniusss

fave lines: “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace”, “and if i’m dead to you/why are you at the wake?”

mirrorball: ohhhh this one is so pretty!! it just makes me want to dance around the kitchen with the person i love??? its comforting, ethereal, happyyy ugh i love it. I also think it could be about her relationship with her fans? like her music shows us different sides of ourselves idk? or just absorbing into a relationship?

fave lines: “on my tallest tiptoes/shining just for you”

seven: i’m gonna call this now: this is going to be the most underrated song on this album. it is STUNNING. POETIC. HEARTBREAKING. the music is so hauntingly nostalgic. and the lyrics, holy absolute shit. they’re a delicate testament to childhood, memory, and innocent love. it’s gut wrenching and i love it so so much

fave lines: “i’ve been meaning to tell you/i think your house is haunted/your dad is always mad/and that must be why”, “and just like folk song/our love will be passed on”, “before i learned civility/ i used to scream ferociously” ALL OF IT

august: and now we get the girl james cheated with’s perspective, which i think is great. its sunny, wistful and sad underneath all that beautiful production. when she slides from the chorus to the “back when we we’re changing for the better” and hits that “mineeee to lose” GOD, it just fills your chest. i feel like even if you never have, this makes anyone feel like they know exactly what a summer fling feels like. one of my faves

fave lines: “august slipped away/like a bottle of wine”, “cancel my plans just in case you call/ and say meet me behind the mall”

this is me trying: the slow pacing of this melody serves to show these EXQUISITE lyrics here. this is so intimate and personal and i feel like everyone can relate to this feeling of just trying to hold on and put on a brave face?

fave lines: “they told me all of my cages were mental/ so i got wasted like all my potential”

illicit affairs: ok all you need to know about this one is a) I’m obsessed b) this is the closest she has come to creating a bridge that makes me feel like the All Too Well bridge has, like scream sobbing in the car type vibe??? its unreal. and this song makes me feel that shitty feeling of: “this was supposed to be casual but oops its very much not” hmmm maybe that’s where the scream sobbing comes from hahah

fave lines: “don’t call me kid/don’t call me baby/look at this godforsaken mess that you made me/you showed me colors you know i can’t see with anyone else”

invisible string: this. THIS is probably her most stunning love song. like. i thought it was Lover. i was wrong. this one is confidently from Taylor’s perspective, about Joe and dear lord i want a love like theirs. and shit does this song put the folk in folklore, the music is so simple and gorgeous and harkens back to her country roots without losing this new sound she has. and the first few notes remind me of Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens so instantly im sold. this and betty are tied for my number 1, it’s just too beautiful

fave lines: “time curious time/give me no compasses/give me no signs” “isn’t it just so pretty to think/all along there was some invisible string/tying you to me”, “cold was steel of the axe that i had to grind/for the boys who broke my heart/now i buy their babies presents”, “hell was the journey/but it brought me heaven”

mad woman: FUCK YOU FOREVERRRRRR!!! yes taylor said fuckkkk ugh i LOVE this vibe, the revenge of the mad woman that the town cast out is so eerie and powerful, i’m obsessed. it ties back into the maddest woman of TLGAD and it feels like a spiritual sequel to The Man, the same feminist thread weaving through it. the lyrics are razor sharp and biting, i love it

fave lines: “and you poke that bear/till the claws come out/ and you find something/ to wrap your noose around”, “it’s obvious wanting me dead has really brought you two together”

epiphany: so uhhh THIS is the saddest song on folklore. fight me. the seamless comparison between wartime and the pandemic and waiting for some epiphany that could make sense of all the horrors surrounding the both. idk man, as someone who’s been a covid nurse since March, i just….this one HURTS. similar to Soon You’ll Get Better tbh

fave lines: “hold your hand through plastic now/doc i think she’s crashing out/and somethings you just can’t speak about”

betty: OH I LOVE IT WITH MY WHOLE HEART! this is such a TRIUMPHANT return to old taylor, it is so joyful but sad at the same time?? the harmonica?? the last part of the love triangle?? it sounds like Taylor Swift and Fearless all grown up and it makes me ache for back then, but love where we are right now. tbh the first time i heard this i sobbed through the whole thing just out of pure nostalgia. she’s back but at the same time she never left. this feels like a love song to original fans and it. is. incredible. my favoriteeee goddd

fave lines: THE WHOLE CHORUS BABYYYYY

peace: it’s gorgeous, especially the guitarrr ugh. this feels like delicate’s quiet older sister. i think it’s definitely about joe and how taylor, despite loving him, still has these insecurities and fears about what a relationship with someone in her position could be like? like there will be struggles, but he’s her family and she “would die for you in secret”. stunning

fave lines: “i’m a fire and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm”, “the devils in the detail/but you’ve got a friend in me”, “give you my wild/give you a child”

hoax: i’m surprised she ended it on a sad one (but we still have the lakes!!) but this song is hauntingly beautiful WOW. every line of this absolutely floors me. i think this one will also be largely underrated, but it is pure poetry and deserves so so much hype

fave lines: “stood on the cliffside/screaming give me a reason/your faithless love’s the only hoax i believe in”, “it still hurts underneath my scars/from when they pulled me apart/but what you did was just as dark” “my kingdom come undone/ my broken drum/ you have beaten my heart”

ANYWHO TAYLOR HAS PRODUCED HER BEST WORK TO DATE AND IM READY FOR SAD GIRL AUTUMN

[tsarisfanfiction]

Flood

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: Teen Genre: Adventure/Angst Characters: Scout, Medic, Engineer

A storm has left the canyon at Double Cross a raging torrent, but the Announcer decides to proceed with the mission nonetheless. Character study turned story.

Scout glared out at the sun as it dared to peak out from behind the storm clouds. He liked the storm, thank you very much, and the ceasefire that it had brought on. Now, however, he realised that they're have to go out onto the battle field, to be killed multiple times in varying ways – from a quick headshot to a slow and painful burning – all for the sake of money, and a rivalry that never showed any signs of ending. Not that he was complaining about the money, mind you. All except the very basics that he required to live on was sent to his Ma back in Boston, to keep her and his numerous brothers afloat. When he was younger, he'd never imagined that he'd become the main breadwinner in the household. Most of his brothers had failed to find themselves jobs, mainly due to their criminal records. Scout himself would be in the same boat, if he had not been approached, after a particularly nasty gang fight that had left most of the opposing gang dead or incapacitated, by Miss Pauling – such a hottie – and given an offer that he just couldn't refuse. Regardless of what his teammates thought, he was not stupid. He knew that with his childhood the best future he could hope for was life imprisonment so when he was offered the chance to become immortal (only during battles) and fight for a living he knew that it was more than he deserved. Especially when he signed the contract and saw how much he was to be paid. He thought it excessive, although he was careful not to mention this to his employers in case they decided that he could do with a pay cut, until he started. After the first day, he realised that 'immortal' had not meant what he'd expected, after several trips through respawn. After experiencing death so many times, and in so many ways, he understood why they were being paid so much. His Ma didn't agree with his job, but she realised, like him, that it was more than he or any of his brothers could ever have hoped to earn, and so long as he came home in one piece at Christmas she had no reason to pull him out. Not that she could, what with the contract he had signed, but she didn't know what the exact contents of that was. And he had no intention of telling her that it was for the rest of his life. Which would be until his speed – which was what had prompted Miss Pauling to approach him in the first place – lessened until it was no longer his advantage. At that point, he knew, he would no longer be useful to them and more likely than not would be terminated. He'd never been expressively told that, but the implications were there and, as already stated, he wasn't as stupid as most people thought.

He surfaced from his reverie when the rain stopped, water droplets no longer falling on him. Not that it mattered – he'd been out there so long he was soaked to the bone. He turned his back on the sun and re-entered the building, avoiding the other mercs as he headed straight for his room to dry off. Medic was good, but none of his equipment was suitable for curing colds, or even hypothermia. All that would happen would be that he was confined to the medbay and having to sleep with one eye open in case the insane doctor decided to use him as a test subject for one of his weird experiments. It had happened before, and Scout was not willing to go through it again. So with this motivation he threw off his dripping clothes and had a quick, hot, shower in his private en-suite (thank God for that – he hated showering with other people around) before pulling on his uniform and grabbing his faithful bat before leaving the room to locate his teammates. As he entered the communal area to find it empty he heard the Announcer.

"Battle begins in 60 seconds."

That explained where everyone had gone, but why was he the only one to have not known in advance, he wondered as he put his greatest asset to use as he sprinted to the respawn room. For his teammates' sakes, he hoped they were already there. He'd make it in time, because of his speed, but none of the others would, and tardiness was not accepted in this line of work. It got you killed. Permanently. He skidded into the room as the Announcer proclaimed that they had 30 seconds remaining, and noted that he was, indeed, the last to arrive. Soldier drew breath to shout at him but Demo got there first.

"Where ye been, lad? Didny'a hear her earlier?" Scout shook his head and grabbed his headset from its place in his locker, jamming it on over his hat.

"10…" Scout tuned out the countdown as he crouched by the balcony, ready to jump to the floor below. They were at Double Cross, and as such was guaranteed to be a 'Capture the intel before they get ours' mission. The countdown ended and he propelled himself off the balcony, ready to sprint for the intel. He faltered slightly when he realised that he had landed in about an inches' worth of water. That made things harder, although at least the enemy Pyro was not such a threat. Out the doors he ran and out onto the narrow bridge. Immediately he had to dodge as an arrow came whistling towards him, courtesy of the opposing Sniper. Adrenaline took over, as it always did and he wove his way to the opposing base. He made it to the room that housed the intel with little problem – and knew that his counterpart would have done the same (it was easy for someone of their speed to reach the opposing base with no injury at Double Cross) – before slowing and assessing the surroundings. The Engineer was bound to have set up sentries to protect the intel – he knew Engie had done so – and he took a quick stock of their positions before darting in and grabbing the briefcase. Escaping also went without a hitch – he ran rings around the lone sentry, noting a lack of the Engineer, before darting back out, now slightly slower due to the case on his back. And that was when it all started to go wrong. First he was met by the Pyro, but as he'd already surmised they were useless in the flood and so easily went down from one blast of his scattergun without causing any damage to him. Next was an Über-charged Heavy and his accompanying Medic. Scout cursed, then jumped to the other side of the sand piles to dodge the roaring minigun as he continued his mad dash back to base. Just as he was about to reach relative safety an arrow struck his leg. The Sniper had got a lucky strike. His leg buckled and he fell off the bridge and down onto the railtracks beneath it. Ordinarily, this would not have been a problem, but with all the rain there was a healthy flood down there. The water behind him gained a red tinge as he bled and he knew that he had to get out of there. Especially when he heard an ominous rumble of thunder. Surrounded by water as he was, one lightning strike in the vicinity and he was toast. The heavens re-opened and Scout was hit by a sudden deluge of water. In a panic, he realised that with his injured leg and the heavy briefcase, he had no hope of swimming against the current that was slowly but surely pushing him away from Double Cross. The ice-cold water, helped by his wound, sapped at his strength just as efficiently as a Spy could sap a sentry. He entertained the thought of suicide, just to get back to respawn – the intel could wait; it would reappear in the base soon enough for him to reclaim – when he realised that he was likely outside the respawn barrier. If he died, he'd die. With this realisation he did the only thing he could think of. Reaching for his mic, he brought it as close to his face as he could and called for help. Predictably, Medic was the one that replied, asking where he was and how bad his injuries were – assessing if respawn was the better option, no doubt.

"Fell off the bridge," Scout gasped. "Sniper got me in the leg. Water's pushing me away. Think I'm outside respawn. Got the intel." Panic and the cold forced him to speak in short sentences as he gasped for air, watching the water tumbling down the sides of the canyon towards him, reinforcing the water and making it hard for him to fight the current. He heard Medic reporting his predicament to someone as he struggled to keep his head above water, undercurrents making themselves known as they tried to drown him. He'd given up fighting the direction of travel, instead keeping an eye out for something to cling to – an outcrop of rock, even plants would do at this point. Just as he was about to give up and accept his fate – Medic muttering in his ear about how he couldn't do anything to help him made his situation all the more real – he saw an outcrop, just as he was hoping. The water lead him straight to it, smashing his body against it mercilessly – Scout felt several ribs break – and he grabbed for it, somehow finding the strength to climb up. It was a tall plateau, exactly what he needed, and away from the edges so the cascading water didn't hit him and he flopped onto it in relief, grateful for the respite. His entire body hurt – muscles seizing up from the cold and smashed ribs abusing his insides – so he stayed as still as he could. Looking back the way he had come, he could just about make out Double Cross in the distance, flashes of blue and red indicating that the battle was still in full swing. Realising the only way that his team had a hope of winning, he pushed the briefcase away from him, letting it drop back into the raging torrent.

"I dropped it," he panted into his mike. "Someone – go get it. We have to win." He heard someone – Engie, he thought - acknowledge him and relaxed, completely exhausted. "A-and... T-tell Ma… Tell her that I'm sorry," he sighed, knowing that he was dead. Safe as he was on the rock, no-one could reach him and his injuries were sapping what little strength he'd managed to maintain as he bled out. By the time the water calmed enough to allow access to him, either his injuries or hypothermia would have finished him off.

"Don't talk like that!" Soldier barked in his ear. "You will live, you hear me. True men don't let a little water best them." Despite the harsh words, Scout could hear the worry in his voice.

"Pyro's got the intel," Sniper said suddenly. A moment later there was a cheer as the firebug returned to the base, winning them the mission.

"At least we won," Scout sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

"Herr Scout!" Medic's voice cut through him. "Stay avake! Ve are coming for you."

"D-don't bother," Scout whispered. "I'll be dead before you get here." His teeth began to chatter as the anticipated hypothermia set it. "B-bye, g-guys." With that he let his eyes close and waited for death.

"-out?" cut through his consciousness, not loud enough to have come from his headset. "Scout!" Scout? Who was Scout? Why couldn't they leave him alone? He moaned at them in protest but the insistent voice continued. A sudden pain in his leg made him cry out in protest and his eyes cracked open just enough to see a fuzzy person looking down at him. Funny, they had a yellow head. "Come on, son. Wake up." He squinted at them in annoyance and watched them come into view properly. His head wasn't yellow, he realised. He was wearing a yellow hat. A gloved hand gently patted his cheek in an attempt to wake him and he moved his head away. "Scout. You need to wake up." Slowly his consciousness returned to him enough to put a name to the irritating voice, and the face of the man bending over him. Engie. Why did that seem important? Engie…

It all came flooding back to him – getting shot, falling into the raging torrent, throwing away the intel. Saying goodbye…

"Engie?" he murmured as the face finally came into sharp focus. The Texan grinned at him.

"Good to have you back, son."

"Herr Engineer," another familiar voice began – Medic. "Ve cannot move him far. Can you set up a teleporter?"

"Sure thing, Doc," Engie said. He stood and retrieved the necessary blueprints. Soon the familiar sound of a teleporter whirred into existence. Engie returned to Scout's side and picked him up, presumably at a signal from Medic. Short as he was, the Engineer was hardly weak and he carried the semi-conscious Scout through the teleporter with ease. As they materialised, Scout became aware of the other mercs beginning to crowd round as Engie placed him on a bed – the teleporter appeared to have led straight into the medbay.

"Give ze boy some room!" Medic snapped as he emerged, shooing them all away as he brought his giant medigun to face Scout's battered body. The machine whirred to life and Scout felt his ribs realigning. As usual when under the effects of the gun, there was no pain, just the strange sensation of feeling his body put itself back together. Soon it was over and Medic cut through bandages that Scout hadn't even noticed had been wrapped round his chest.

"Zhere is no need for zhese any more, ja?" he said as he removed them. Scout managed a lopsided grin.

"Thanks, Doc."

Unfortunately, the gun did nothing for the hypothermia and so Scout was bundled up under several layers of blankets and told to sleep. Despite his misgivings about sleeping in the medbay he soon went under, welcoming the darkness.

When he next woke, the following morning, he saw Medic approaching with a wicked grin and a needle in one hand. Scout didn't even pause to think – he threw off his covers and fled the room, accompanied by the laughter of the doctor. Scout vowed to never again fall ill near the man. Medic hounded him into the communal area, where the other mercs were waiting.

"Good ta have ya back, mate," Sniper said. Scout froze as Heavy grabbed him in a massive bearhug.

"Leetle Scout is safe," he cheered. Scout watched Medic arrive in the corner of his eye and tried to get away, until he realised that the doctor was no longer holding his instruments.

"You seem to be cured," he chuckled. Scout glowered at him when he realised that Medic had frightened him on purpose.

"That was not funny!"

[themagicalmysticalboy]

request: hello :) what about some hurt!John based on this photo but around 1965-66? It may be because of drugs overdosing, not eating enough after that Fat beatle comment, some illness, or anything else you want :) it can be mclennon but it doesnt have to be :) with worried and protective boys, Brian and crew. 

a/n: the 1965-66 bit made me think of the “bigger than Jesus” scandal. So here we are.

pairing: no actually, just good friends

summary: The Beatles are on lockdown after John’s Jesus comment. In his intoxicated state, John thinks it's a great idea to sneak out of the hotel for a walk and a smoke.

warnings: hurt!John, violence

time period: 1966

word count: 2,000+

The whole thing had been overblown, in John’s opinion. Americans were too sensitive about their religion and the American media was ready to twist his words- anything to stir up drama. This left the whole touring situation at a standstill until he apologized.

Apologizing had been awful but nothing was as awful as the talk with Tony and Brian. That made him see straight, alright. Traumatized him in the process.

Even after apologizing and seeing things settle down, the group was still on lockdown as they toured. It was much worse than the usual “now, stay shut up in the hotel or you’ll draw a crowd.” Brian was frightened of the American peoples' reaction. So, the band was cooped up in hotels with only each other for company. Not the worst situation, John had to admit, but he craved to have the option to leave for once.

John had let the fuss over them slide for quite some time but it was getting to be a drag. He wanted to stretch his legs.

Maybe if he wore a disguise he’d get by. He giggled at the thought through a haze of smoke as Ringo passed him the blunt. He pressed the tip to his lips and made to roll the dice. He moved his little metal game piece before handing the blunt and dice to Paul.

The four of them sat around on the floor of George’s hotel room, a game of Monopoly before them. Most of the money had stacked at Ringo’s feet, as John was too busy pondering escape to actual play. Paul had the least money left and the least clothes on. He had discarded his socks and shoes after the first blunt was finished. Beginning the second, he had lost his shirt as well.

“This ain’t strip poker,” George said, falling back onto the plush rug. 

“If it were, he’d be naked already,” Ringo mused as John took more money from Paul’s pile. 

“Could play that instead. Be more fun.” Paul yawned, passing blunt and dice to a still floor-bound George.

George threw the dice onto his stomach and tried to read the number without moving them. “Five spaces, daft git,” John said as he rose to his feet. The others looked up, asking with their eyes rather than words. “Getting me ciggies from my room. Then I’ll destroy you all in the last half of this.” He gestured to the board before dramatically turning for the door.

The high really hit him when he was upright and walking. The world was magnified in his eyes, pushing closer and further like the ocean's waves as he left the room. He traversed into the empty hallway and crossed to his room in a fit of giggles. It was in his mind to go back and finish the game but the craving for the late-night city air in his lungs was stronger. 

His cigarettes sat on the small table by the door but he passed them by and rummaged through his clothes. He pulled out a baseball cap and one of Paul’s long jackets he’d stolen ages ago. Good enough.

He popped the collar of his jacket and threw on his glasses for good measure, pocketing his cigarettes before slipping out into the hall. He knew a guard was stationed in the lift but maybe not the stairwell. He crept to the end of the hall and slid open the emergency exit door. The stairwell seemed very empty. With a shrug and triumphant grin, he descended the steps.

As he reached the lower levels of the building, something nagged at the back of his head about not going out through the lobby. He couldn’t remember why but decided to trust his instinct. Once at the bottom, he turned to the alley door without a second thought.

Some kind of pressure released from his chest as the wind whipped around him and the loud clatter from city life filled his ears. He could breathe properly for once. 

He pulled his ball cap low over his face and lit up a cigarette, walking to the mouth of the alley. As he neared the city streets, a battle of shouts and cheers raged more clearly. He peeked around the corner to see two groups outside the lobby. It was easy to tell them apart by the signs they held. The side closest to John had signs reading “Jesus Will Forgive But I Won’t” and “Jesus IS Bigger Than The Beatles”. The group a bit further down had much more normal signs that read things like “I Love You JOHN” “I Love The Beatles” and ones with all the boys' names surrounded by hearts. A showdown between the angry Christians and the Beatle People. Brian telling him of this scene raging outside the lobby doors suddenly reappeared in his memories.

John couldn’t stop from laughing aloud before turning back down the alley. That was more trouble than it was worth. He went back to the emergency exit door and pulled drags from his cig, watching as the crowd slowly dispersed. People walked by the alleyway without a glance in his direction.

He leaned his head against the rough brick wall, searching the sky for any stars. It seemed the lights of the city were hiding them all away. That was disappointing.

“Got a light, buddy?”

John jumped at the unfamiliar voice. His head snapped back down to earth and his hat fumbled to the ground. In front of him stood two men a bit older than him. The taller of the two had a cigarette between his fingers. Collecting himself, he tossed his cigarette to the side and gave a smile. They didn’t seem to recognize who he was.

“Sure.” He grabbed a small white lighter from his pocket. 

He pulled himself off the wall and a street lights glow crept over his face. The shorter man grabbed his friend's shoulder. Something like a mix of recognition and anger twisted both men’s features. John stood his ground, still smiling. 

“You still want a light, mate?”

“Your accent- You’re John Lennon, right? Or one of those other Bug Brits.” The man spat the words, looking him over in disgust and tossing the unlit cigarette to the side.

“The lights out of the question, I see.” He looked between the two men. “Guess I’ll be going in, then. Quite late and all.” John took a step backward.

The taller bloke grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. “You think you’re better than God?”

John laughed without a hint of the fear he felt peaking through, “I mean-“

The shorter man came to his side. “Probably think he is God.”

John raised his hands in surrender, shrugging the tall bloke's hand off in the process. “Look, lads, I apologized for all that misunderstanding.” Neither man looked convinced. “Not bright enough to read the papers?”

The blow struck him in the stomach before he could register it coming. He was knocked back into the wall, his focus on the taller lad as he drew his own fist back. John lurched forward, getting in a blow to the bloke's jaw before the shorter one got a hold of him. The bloke wrapped his arms under John’s, clasping his hands together behind John’s head.

John’s arms were forced out to the side. He strained against the hold as the taller man rubbed his jaw, ready to hit again.

The facade of smiles dropped as he struggled to escape. “Wait-wait-hold- !“

With a twisted smirk, the bloke pulled his arm back, giving a full swing into John’s stomach. He let out a loud groan, straining to buckle over against the human restraint. 

Another blow to the stomach and another. 

John finally cried out as the man's fist drove into his side. It was a hit that required the man to bend down just enough for John to quickly bring up his feet for a kick to the face. The pain from the awkward restraint erupted through his back but his shoes had found their mark. 

The bloke stumbled back, falling flat on his ass. The man holding John suddenly released him and he fell too. The pain in his stomach was crippling. He coughed as stomach acid stung the back of his throat, one palm flat on the damp concrete, the other wrapped around his stomach.

A kick landed square to the side of his face, the metal of his glasses digging into his skin, stinging at his nose. He toppled to the side, the world falling into a daze. Another kick struck his chest and another into his stomach. He curled as tightly into a ball as he could, his eyes squeezed shut. His head was reeling and he couldn’t get in a second to recover. The kicks only stopped coming as he heard a door slam open.

“Wha- Stop it! Stop!” A familiar voice rung out. “John!”

“Get the fuck off him!” And another. “I’ll cripple ya!” There was a general shuffling of feet around his head.

“Get Brian out here!” And another.

“Johnny! John, come on…” A hand moved the hair from his eyes and rolled him on his back. But he couldn’t manage to force his eyes open.

“Wake up, son.”

Someone was tugging at him until his head was no longer resting on concrete. He stirred, his eyes opening to see Paul and Ringo knelt over him. Paul’s eyes were darting up and down John’s body, his thumb rubbing at John’s cheek. John realized Paul had brought him up into his lap. 

Ringo’s full attention was on John's face, smiling down at him with relief glittering in his eyes. “Not looking too well, mate.”

John lifted his hand up to Paul. He grabbed the lads open jacket, hardly noticing there was no shirt underneath it. “I think I was winning, wasn’t I?” He tried to smile but winced at a sudden spark of pain in his face and ribs. A metallic taste coated his mouth and he coughed.

Paul smiled with sad eyes, “Yeah. Could’ve destroyed them in the last half.”

George ran up behind the lot of them, panting like mad as he knelt over John. “You’re mad, you know? Absolutely.” He took in a deep breath. “That one bloke was huge.”

“Seems they weren’t that opposing if you could chase ‘em off.” John groaned, trying to sit up. Paul supported his back to help him as the door beside them came crashing open. 

“John. Good, God!” Brian rushed out, his trench coat trailing behind. He knelt down, patting over John as if to make sure he was all there. “What happened? Can you stand? Do I need to call for an ambulance?” His eyes were wet with tears, his hair and clothes disheveled.

John wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, coming away with a bloodstained sleeve and hand. He groaned, pulling himself to his feet with much of Ringo’s assistance. “Later, yes, no.” His face twisted in pain, clutching at his stomach. “In that order.” He gave a curt nod, throwing his arm over Ringo’s shoulder.

It was an ordeal to walk back to the room but at least he could take the lift up. Paul had volunteered to help John get changed and settled into bed. It was a slow affair. With many stops for Paul to curse him for his stupidity before grabbing at him to hug or fuss over.

“They could’ve killed you, y’know? Then what?” Paul was shaking his head and biting his lip as John slowly got into bed, propped up against the headboard.

John rolled his eyes. “Then I’d be dead, Macca. But I’m no-.”

Paul crossed his arms. “Then you’d be dead and we’d be here!  Without you...” He looked almost angry. “You do realize that- Nevermind.” Paul huffed and pulled the covers up over John, swallowing back a lump in his throat.

John was too frightened of what he lacked realization of to question Paul further.

After a while, the others trickled into the room one by one until they were all around John’s bed. Brian stood at the foot of the bed, looking sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry, boys- John. I should have looked out for you better.” Brian looked at each boy as he said this, eye glistening.

All four of the boys looked absolutely shocked by this, with a choir of what’s and no’s all around. But John took the lead. “Brian, I’m the one who snuck out. You did grand. Security was grand. It’s on me.”

“Anything that happens to you, any of you, is on me as well.” He straightened his back, taking in a deep breath. “I should have accounted for your disobedient tendencies.”

“No, John’s just daft,” George remarked. John gave an incredulous look but let it slide. “Don’t go putting this on yourself. You can’t see the future.”

Brian shook his head, “This isn’t about me, though, is it?” He pulled up a smile but it quickly fell to a frown. “What happened to get you in that fight?”

The attention turned back on John. He could see the pain still lingering in Brian’s face as he recounted the events of the night. He felt so stupid for going out like he did. Not even telling anyone. He put everyone through the wringer just for a smoke in a dirty alley.

With his explanation through, he was met with flustered criticism. It was all cut off by a knock at the door.

“Ah,” all eyes went to Brian. “That would be the police. Here for your statement.”

John straightened too quickly, grabbing at his sore stomach. “I’m not talking to no fucking cops.” He moved out of the bed, suddenly feeling like he was being far too babied.

“Say it loud enough for ‘em to hear, why don’t you,” George chided.

Brian’s brow furrowed, seeming confused by the aversion. “You have to talk to them so they can catch the men who attacked you.” 

“Was a stupid fight in an alley. Nothing life or death.” He looked to the boys for support but no one was talking. “Paul, we were in worse fights in Liverpool. Tell Bri it’s nothing to get the cops for.”

Paul’s eyes danced around the room. “He ain’t wrong. He’s been worse off after a fight.”

“Can’t say that that makes it all gear and fab, can we?”

“That’s not even-“

There was an outbreak of arguing over semantics that John wasn’t having. In the chaos, Brian went to get the door, unnoticed by the others. He ushered in a police officer and everyone quieted. John leaned against the side of the bed, his face set in a stone of frustration. He just wanted them all to leave him be. 

He eyed the police officer. “No autographs today, sorry.”

“John, just tell the man what happened.” Brian’s voice was desperate and exhausted.

The look in Brian’s teary eyes in the alley flashed in John’s mind. The look on all their faces, really. The amount they all cared made John unreasonably frustrated. He didn’t feel he deserved it. They shouldn’t care about him as much as they do. But they do and that's that. They care and he cares about them. 

He ran a hand down his face. Being considerate was tiring. “Get out then.” He looked around at his friends. “You all’ve already heard it. Wouldn’t want to bore you with a second round.”

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Some Day One Day (Gwilym Lee x Reader)

Part 13 of The Queen Repertoire

WARNINGS: Insinuations of suicide and depression, moderate violence (bullying and abuse)

Notes: I may or may not have realized there was a lack of BORHAP boys in my works thus far and have vowed to make more with them. Starting with this piece of angst and fluff sprinkled with smut. Enjoy! 

Some day one day I will marry a prince.

That's what I used to tell myself, back when it was okay to dream of fairy tales. As I got older though that silly fantasy faded and in its place was something only I knew to be real.

Some day one day I hope to be alive.

I wasn't the happiest girl at my secondary school. No, that would be my older sister, Y/OS/ N. She was popular, and easily loved. She had a massive group of friends and lads wanting her to be theirs. One of said friends, whom she had fancied, was a lad named Gwilym.

Gwilym was different. Always the one in the crowd that looked like he didn't wish to be there. His eyes would wander as though lost in a daydream. He was also strikingly beautiful. Inside and out.

I only knew him from afar, and only managed an occasional hello before Y/OS/N would take over the conversation.

One day, my emotionally lowest day, Gwil and some of the other kids from school came over to hang with Y/OS/N. I was sixteen while they were seventeen. Earlier that day at school during lunch hour the group had caught Gwil zoning out. I know because I could hear them from table by the window. Apparently this time his eyes were set on me. Y/OS/N noticed this and became irate.

Later that day she cornered me in the girls lavatory and took scissors to my Y/H/L, Y/H/C hair; cutting it all off. “Gwil can't love you if you look like a boy now can he?”

“And you really think he'll love you for looking like a hag?” I blurted out through my tears. To this she drew her hand and slapped me across the face.

I went home early and mum took care of the rest of my hair to make it even, and I wound up with a pixie cut. I went into my room soon after, dug out a beanie, and  placed it on my head covering the damage. I suddenly heard the crowd of people come in.

Now I sat on my bed, chin on my knees, as mum yelled at Y/OS/N grounding her for what she did. She then told everyone to go home but unbeknownst to her Gwil had slipped passed them.

I didn't even know he'd come until he knocked at my door. “Y/N?”

“Gwil?”

“Yeah, um, may I come in?” I wiped the tears from my eyes and muttered okay. He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello,” I muttered. He came over and sat down across from me on my bed.

“I heard what happened...it's disgusting of her,” he said sounding irate at my sister. “Why would she even think to...and to you of all people... what could you have possibly done to her to deserve such cruelty?”

I looked down. “I didn't do anything...I think it's mostly what you did that set her off.”

“What is it exactly did I do?”

I looked back up at him. “You looked at me.”

He sighed as the memory came back to him.

“She completely fancies you,” I said. “So much so I became a threat to her. I don't know why though...it's not like you―.”

He cut me off with his mouth. It sent a shock down my spine, but I couldn't deny how magical it felt.

After a while he pulled back and gasped at something over my shoulder. I look over and realized I'd left my bottle of antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds, and Naproxin (for my headache) out on my bedside table along side a letter addressed to my mum.

“Does it really surprise you?” I asked in a whisper. “That I would want to use them all at once? I'm exhausted Gwilym. Exhausted and I just want it all to stop. I want the pain to stop.”

“And it will, but not like this,” he said. He reached up and gently lifted the beanie off my head. He placed it aside and wiped away my tears with his fingers, taking my face in his hands. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much my whole being has been aching to be with you. I fell in love with you a long time ago.”

“But why me?” I asked.

“Because of the Blue Moon Night,” he said. Blue Moon Night was the title I gave to an old painting I made. It was a night time setting. Two figures sat beneath a giant tree, silhouetted by the light of the full moon. It was framed and hung up on the wall by my bedroom door. It was the only painting I couldn't give away or sell since it was my proudest accomplishment and I never wanted to lose it. I was thirteen when I made it and I remember finding Gwil had been watching me while I worked on the finishing touches. “Because when I saw it, and saw you, a part of me wanted to be in it. I saw us staring at the moon, and spending an endless amount of time together far easier than I could see my own future. It was then I knew I wanted you, and that I wouldn't ever feel like that with anyone else.”

I started crying again, and melted into him as he wrapped his arms around me After a while I sniffed back tears and pecked him on the cheek, trailing down until I reached his lips. We kissed as though we had forever. My hands explored him and his explored me, until, eventually mine started working on the buttons of his top.

After taking care of the last one I pushed the fabric off his shoulders. Gwil pulled back and tossed the fabric aside. I then leaned in and pressed my lips to the skin above his heart. I knew then it was something that would always be mine. The idea made my heart beat like mad. I pulled back and shrugged out of my top.

I had never been like this with anyone, so I was pretty nervous throughout...That is until Gwil was finally on top of me, bare naked, with his tip ghosting my entrance. My body trembled at the feeling, which worried Gwil.

“Are you okay?” I nodded, took a deep breath, and brought my mouth to his. A couple of kisses later he pushed himself in. I gasped and clung to him. He didn't hurt me though. Instead he gave us a moment to get used to the feeling of one another. Once we realized how brilliant we felt to each other he began to move.

I swear it's as if God had made us to be perfect for one another. Our bodies moved together in a perfect harmony I never knew was possible. Gwil kissed me, and placed his hand in mine giving it a squeeze as a wave of passion came over us.

It hit me first. I bit back a moan as my body tensed up tightening around him. Gwil followed his body trembling, a slightly loud moan escaping his lips, as he filled me with his warmth.

“I love you,” he whispered breathless.

“I love you too,” I whispered back.

We laid there for the rest of the afternoon, just holding each other.

“How come you've never said anything before?” I asked. “I mean, for me it was obvious why...but you?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I guess I was just scared. I mean...how was I supposed to go on if...if it turned out differently?” I sighed and pecked him on the neck. I couldn't help but think how silly that fear sounded but... I figured every one must have that fear then. And in that moment the words to one of my favorite songs came into mind.

You never heard my song before the music was too loud But now i think you hear me well for now we both know how No star can light our way in this cloud of dark and fear But some day, one day...

“What's that?” Gwil asked. It was then I realized I'd been singing the words aloud.

“It's one of my favorite songs,” I said. “It's actually one of the things that's kept me going these last few years.”

“It's beautiful but rather sad don't you think?” he asked.

“That's because those were just the starting words,” I said looking up at him. “But it gets better.”

He leaned in and kissed me on my forehead just as Y/OS/N barged into my room. “Hey dumb-fuck mum says dinner's―WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Christ can't you bloody knock?!” I shrieked at her bringing the blanket up to cover us both. Gwil was already moving to get his boxers on though.

“Honestly you two I have just about had enough of―OH MY GOD!” Mum said as she gawked at us from behind Y/OS/N.

“MUM PLEASE!” I damned near shouted.

She then pulled Y/OS/N out and closed the door.

Gwil and I both got dressed, and laughing made our way downstairs.  

“I'm sorry you had to see that Mrs. Y/L/N,” he said to my mum before pecking me on the mouth and leaving for the night.

I turned to my mum and sighed. “How long am I grounded for?”

“We're you safe?” she asked. My face felt almost burning with embarrassment, but I nodded still. “In that case what is there to be grounded for?”

“WHAT?!” Y/OS/N shrieked. Mum then told her it was her night to do dishes after dinner.

The next day at school energy in the lunch hour shifted at her table. When Gwil stepped into the canteen her whole table went silent. Y/OS/N glared at me, and looked at him with whatever hope she had left. That hope was dashed, however, when Gwil came and sat with me, greeting me with a kiss.

Years later we had completely different lives. We married two years after leaving secondary school, and got our own flat. Y/OS/N hadn't been to the wedding and had actually cut ties with my family and I. Claimed she was tired of being treated so 'cruelly'.

Soon after we married Gwil got into acting, while I continued to paint and sell my work (with the occasional piece I simply can't give up). Life was brilliant.

Gwil wound up getting a big part on one of my favorite series, a detective series known as Midsomer Murders. I was happy for him but he seemed nervous about it. Mostly because it required him to travel quite a bit of distance across the country.

“What am supposed to do without you?” he asked. “Or you without me?”

“Gwil,” I sighed. “I promise you I'm going to be alright.” It was night time and we were sat by our fireplace. “You don't have to be like this.”

He sighed. “I'm sorry, love. It's just I remember how fragile you used to be, and I see and love how strong you've been these passed few years.”

“You make me sound like a damsel,” I frowned.

“That didn't quite come out right,” Gwil cringed. “What I'm trying to say is I was fragile too. Almost to the point of breaking but then we came together, and I have been a stronger and better man because of it. How am I supposed to keep that up if your not there?”

“It's easy Gwil,” I said. “You just have to remember what you're coming home to. This house, this life, me...” I grabbed his hand and placed it on my stomach. “And them.”

He looked at me wide eyed. “Oh my God...” he cried. “Oh my God, Y/N,” he smothered me in kisses, even placing one on my belly. “Hello little one. I love you so much already, and am so so excited to be your daddy.”

We then cuddled by the fire for another few minutes, and once again my favorite song came to mind.

Funny how the pages turn and hold us in between A misty castle waits for you and you shall be a queen Today the cloud it hangs over us and all is grey But some day, one day...

“What's that? Another favorite song?” Gwil asked.

“Actually it's the same one,” I said. “I told, Gwil, it only get's better.”

A few months later I gave birth to a baby girl. The first few months were hard but we persevered, and pushed on knowing it was worth it.

Our careers continued and our child continued to grow. I fell pregnant again and again, eventually adding a boy and another girl.  Our family became our everything and life was beautiful.

Eventually Gwil got another big role in an equally big film. Bohemian Rhapsody not only changed his life but changed mine as well. One day the kids and I decided to surprise him on set.

“Alright go to daddy,” I said letting my littlest go as soon as we spotted Gwil on the stage.

“Oh my god you are the cutest little thing,” Joe said as she stepped up to her daddy who turned around at the remark.

“Princess what..?” he said scooping her up before he looked up and saw us all. I approached him and greeted him with a kiss. “What are you all doing here?”

“We missed you,” I said. “Besides I wanted the kids to meet their new uncles and Granddad.”

“Oh well,” he turned to the other three lads. “Darling, this is Joe, Ben, and Rami. Everyone, this is my wife Y/N and our babies.”

It's amazing how three little kids could turn three grown men into butter. Joe, Ben, and Rami were practically melting at the sight.

“It's lovely to meet you all,” I said. “Gwil has told me so much about you.”

“You're not talking sh-stuff are you?” Joe said.

“Of course not,” Gwil said rolling his eyes.

“Now isn't this a lovely sight,” said a gentle voice coming up from behind the three young men. It belonged to a tall gray haired man who had me almost losing my mind.

“Brian, this my wife, Y/N and our kids,” Gwil introduced us.

“It is so amazing to meet you sir,” I said holding my hand out for him to shake. He took it and brought it to his lips.

“The pleasure's all mine, dear,” he said.

“BRIAN!” Gwil gawked at him.

“What? It's only fair since you've been flirting with Anita when she's here,” he said.

“Yeah but that was a sort of flirting by proxy,” he argued. “I was dressed head-to-toe in an original Brian May outfit and was donning the signature curls after all.”

“Fair point, son.”

“Anyway I've been a fan of yours for years,” I said. “I even sing your music to Gwil every now and then.”

“You do?” Gwil asked.

“Which song if you don't mind my asking?” Brian asked.

“Some Day One Day,” I said. Gwil smiled in realization.

“The song that brought us together,” he said.

“It's one of my favorites,” I told Brian. “It helped me through a lot, and honestly...these three wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you and your music.”

“I am beyond pleased to hear that,” Brian said. “And I know Freddie would be too.”

Later that night the three lads, and Lucy came around our house for a drink and a laugh. We'd invited Brian, Roger, and Adam too but they had other business needing tending to.

Our party went out into the backyard where Joe taught our oldest how to have fun with sparklers. As my two oldest kids ran around with their uncles and auntie Gwil and I stood under the tree and watched them as they smiled and played.

I looked up for a moment and realized the moon was full that night. Like my heart.

“Gwil,” I said.

“Hm?” He looked down at me.

“It's a blue moon night,” I said motioning up at the sky. Gwil looked up and laughed. “Looks like you got what you wanted.”

“Well not entirely,” Gwil said looking down at me. I looked up at him confused. “You've never finished that song.”

I laughed and cuddled into him.

When i was you and you were me and we were very young Together took us nearly there the rest may not be sung So still the cloud it hangs over us and we're alone But some day, one day... We'll come home

Taglist: @okaykathryn​ @fairestkillerqueenofall​ @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @boherahpsody​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @ihatethespacebars​ @madsthegroupie​ @freddie-bulsara-queen​ @rose-de-jaune​ @xxkellsvixen19xx​ @valeriecarolinaw​ @5sos-wdw​ @hearttshapeddboxx​ @spicyarreagaa​ @fluffffffffffff​ @pleasingiswhatweaimfor​ @hatemylifesofuckingmuch​ @jollyavacado​ @painandpleasure86​ @haileynicoleseavey17​ @queenlover1997​ @rrogerrz​ @peachyywine​ @mrsmazzello​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @zwiezraczek​ @night-writer-writer​ @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever​ @tinywildeace​

[namjoonchronicles]

are you done yet? | nj

↳ GENRE fluff, domestic, slight crack attempts of me being funny

↳ WORDS 3.1k

After hours and hours and hours of working and running errands with only your left hand, Namjoon was pestering you to show your right and refused to open jars unless you did as told.

“Fine!” You roared, “Don’t freak out or anything...”

You pulled your right hand out from behind, hesitantly, inch by inch and then all out at once. He tips his eyes towards it, and slowly drags them back to your face that had turned away from him, avoiding all contact.

“H—“ “I was feeling a little upset and I wanted to get one because it looks pretty so I got one,” you explained, ready to cry because you thought he’d be mad. You know he won’t but, it was not like you to be spontaneous. However, ever since you've known Namjoon you have done questionable spontaneous shit like midnight drives to the next district or walking into a stranger’s wedding and pretending like you know them just to get food. Being in love with Namjoon has thrown your sanity out the window.

“You got henna?” He almost mumbles the words out. Seated on the floor, leaning against the wall facing the kitchen where you were. “Do you hate it?” You purse your lips, breaking out into a pout, big doe eyes looking back at him. Inhaling, he chest rises and falls, lips shaped into an O, and he contemplates, “The last time you got those was for our engagement and then on our wedding and first night together...”

“Yes,” you squeaked sadly and retracting your hand back, hiding it again, “It’s been awhile since I had it done. I just don’t feel pretty these past few months and I thought, I want it on me because then maybe I’ll feel better...”

Namjoon kept silent. He didn’t know what went through your mind half of the time but he would kill to get a look inside. Seeing how you moved away from his sight, in small unassured strides, the back of your head and the ballerina bun you made of your hair, makes him feel twice smaller than he really is.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to put the wet laundry in the dryer and start folding clothes...” you muttered to your chest, one hand over the other, scratching your elbows and walking away with your head down as if you’ve disappointed someone. It was a 5 second decision. You fret to yourself, knees digging on the floor by the machine as you load the wet laundry in the dryer as you told him. Pouting even harder because he could have at least said they look pretty.

I thought it was pretty, you mumbled to yourself.

Namjoon peeks at you from the door frame, hiding like he’s got a crush to hide. The view of your bum by the machine stirring explicit images in his head. Heat whirling in his groin and remembering how those hands travelled down the valley of his chest certainly didn’t help. It got him scratching his nails on the door paint and softly calling out your name.

He blinks repeatedly, batting his eyelashes while you hummed back, uninterestedly.

He bites his lips now, “After laundry, are you busy?”

“I have to vacuum your studio, there’s crumbs everywhere from Taehyung’s visit the other day...” you load everything and pick up the basket to place them by the bathroom door in your bedroom.

“And probably change the bedsheet, why?” You asked glancing over your shoulder at your sheepish husband. He’s acting very strange. Following you around like a lost puppy. Even when you had a phone call, and the vacuum buzzing on, he’s literally an arm’s length away.

The satisfaction of hearing all those crumbs being sucked into the vacuum is honestly everything. Namjoon helps you out by lifting the sofas and removing the chair while the nozzle dives into places you can’t reach. At the same time, your mother is on the phone asking if it’s possible to book a hall two months in advance. That was an easy question.

“For wedding halls, Namjoon booked them a year before,” you looked at him for confirmation and he stands up straight, pressing his lips together, dimples on display, eyes fidgeting out of nerves as if he was caught red handed doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He nods at your words.

The call ends after a quick gossip on your cousin who almost cut off a wedding because she’s fallen in love with someone else. More on that later. Namjoon, on the other hand had been pestering you with one question on repeat,

“Are you done yet?” After you wiped the windows. “Are you done yet?” After you knock a nail to hang the painting he bought. “Are you done yet?” After you dust the TV cabinet with a duster. “Are you done yet?” After you dry your hands washing the plates.

And now, as you try to write your monthly schedule, he peeks from the duvet of the unmade bed,

“Are you—“ “—I swear to God if you ask me one more time if I’m done yet, I’m going to fucking scream.”

He pouts and retracts back into the blanket.

“I want woohoo...” he yelps from under the covers. “Excuse me?” you shot, spinning away in your chair from the calendar that’s on your desk to your husband that hiding under the duvet asking what you thought you heard. “Woohoo!” He cries and curled into a bowl while yelping, “The last time you got henna on your hand was on our first night and I have a corrupted mind now I have a stiffie because of your pretty hands so please woohoo before I lose my fucking mind!”

You didn’t know he was going to get worked up by that. He didn’t show any signs of vulnerability. Or fixation to it. Or were you disregarding his lingering stares that you felt throughout the afternoon because you just didn’t feel attractive enough. You were silent for too long that it drew Namjoon peeking one eye through the duvet. He is so shy, the shell of his ear is turning red.

“You’re so pretty... And everytime you hold my hand, I feel like I’m gonna cry. Because we both know that you don’t let just anybody hold your hands. And we both know that it was not like that at all in the beginning when you flinch at every physical touch I initiated. I still don’t know how we got married...”

He was right. He was so right.

Marriage didn’t come easy. It almost didn’t happen. When the day comes, both of you were so busy catering to guests. Making sure everyone feels cozy and getting the food delivered on time. Maybe you should have hired an event manager but truth be told, you wanted complete control. Namjoon’s only area of control was the bookings, financials and desserts. You thought it was fitting because he was more of a sweet tooth than you. Setting the namecards, and translating back and forth in your native language and his, to make sure everybody knows where they’re supposed to be had made both of you tired beyond belief. The constant questions and curious eyes were bouncing back and forth with language barriers. Namjoon sat plopped on the dining platform, by the stairs, with lunch for both of you and your families later. You joining him and passing him a bottled water.

“It’s like BBMAs all over again...” he lulled. You covered his hand with your own and gave it a firm squeeze. Because what else can you say in that situation? Your assurance comes in physical touches. And it took Namjoon by a subtle surprise. He moves his hand and thumbed your knuckle with a faint smile on his face.

“Remember back then, no matter what, you wouldn’t let me hold these?” He chuckles softly through his nose. “And I let you settle with a pinky hold because that was as much as physical affection I was comfortable with? Yes, like how can I forget the most awkward hand holding of all time?” You leaned closer to him, resting your head on his broad shoulders. “We’ve evolved...” you heard him say.

And how true was that. Falling in love with Namjoon felt like coming home. Like all the puzzle pieces has come to life and found themselves. And the stars are transfixed, conspiring this to happen. Namjoon felt like coming home. A home, away from home.

“I can’t help thinking that we’re forgetting something really important...” you swim in the touches that are his and the warmth that envelopes you from within when Taehyung suddenly knocks on the wooden frame, to say,

“Uhh guys?? The actual wedding?”

“Fuck.” You cursed and immediately after, Namjoon comments, “I knew this was going to happen.”

With an exasperated sigh from the end of the hall, was best man, Yoongi, beginning with, “Let’s get these two idiots so we could be home, earning a glare from his wife, “I could be home.”

It was Jungkook running to rescue.

Jimin trips over air to pass Joon the wedding ring. Bloodshot eyes and twitching eyebrows.

With utmost concern and brotherly love, Namjoon asks, “You okay?”

The younger lad didn’t nod or blink and possibly wasn’t breathing when he muttered out, “Yes. I’ve had 23 cups of coffee and no sleep since you told me to pick this up.” Drilling stares into the wedding ring as he held them out for Namjoon to take.

“That was a week ago,” Namjoon furrowed his brows. Jimin’s lips were drying, lids twitching and caffeine wasping around the air he’s in.

Jungkook barges in through the groom’s dressing room with colors drained out his face and limbs to grumble out loud, “...if I have to hear one more dad joke from Seokjin hyung, I'm shoving the microphone down my throat.”

Everyone is urging Namjoon to hurry up. There are four boys surrounding him, making sure his belts and vests are in place, hair neat and blazers ready by the racks for the wedding. But quick is quick enough, it seems, from all the fatigue expressions and impatient sighs escaping his close friend’s lips. What else could go wrong, right?

Taehyung fits his head through the door gap and blinked rapidly while everyone fussed all over Namjoon, the groom. If you need another confirmation because everyone's in their suit and ready to be wed off, he stammers the words out, “so uhhh, you know how it feels to grab air in a cookie jar that it just traumatizes you so you don't look at any cookie jar the same way?”

Jungkook frowns at him and paying no more than 2 seconds of a glance over him, “What are you going on about...”

“Which brand.” Hoseok sprung his head up from tying Namjoon’s laces. Taehyung mentions the brand and momentarily coos over his favourite biscuit by the brand and totally forgetting why he was here in the first place.

Yoongi fixing Namjoon’s belt, gets increasingly impatient with all the chit chat so he goes, “What cookie jar. I asked you to find the bride.”

“Oh yeah! I’m getting there. So uhh i went to fetch her and I opened the door and she wasn’t there,” Taehyung tattles, gave his brothers a lopsided smile, rocking his body back and forth like a toddler.  

Everyone thunders, “WHAT?!”

Namjoon shakes his head, tucking his shirt in, “oH HELL NAW NOT TODAY...”

Taehyung resumes, “That’s an hour ago actually. I’m too scared to look again.”

Jungkook mutters curses under his breath like a disappointed father of the bride. As they all scurried out in their best suits, vests and whatnot, they passed by Seokjin who is entertaining the guests, standing on the altar as the appointed emcee. Well, last minute appointed emcee.

Seokjin covering the microphone and hissing Jungkook’s name. Urgency blares through his face as his ears turning red at the silence and awkward cough from the audience. He growls through his gritted teeth, and grinding jaws,

“What the fuck is going on.”

“We’re looking for the bride.” Jungkook begins to chew his lips and the insides of his cheeks till it made dimples out on display. He is anxious and he couldn’t hide it.

“Where the FUCK is she!” Seokjin thundered in hushes.

“We don’t know. Try to tell more jokes and keep them entertained while we look,” Hoseok spoke in haste.

“I’m running out of dad jokes!” Seokjin groaned.

“You. Can. Do. It. Fighting!” Jimin brings two balled fists and puffed his cheeks with cutesy while he could feel Seokjin would rather dig a hole underneath him right now to be buried in. Maybe recite his own eulogy while he’s at it.

Everyone spreads out. Jungkook’s long legs lunges out the wide field. Wearing a frown on his handsome and delectable face. Hoseok looking through every door in the hall and calling your name before each room, even stumbled upon a couple playing hooky in one. Namjoon and Yoongi searched the cafeterias and dining hall, both wearing anxiety on their sculptured faces. Taehyung is supposed to be following Jungkook but he got distracted by a pretty flower and took a picture of it. Okay, let’s be real, several pictures of it. Heck a damn gallery. And Jimin being the only one who claps and laughs at Seokjin’s jokes, falling back in his chair with tears in his eyes. While Seokjin... well, he’s managing.

By then, Yoongi’s wife begins tapping wildly on her phone into the chatroom they share, because she might have an idea on where you could and might be.

Mrs. Min: Guys I think she’s tending to Hammsi, I’ll lead her away once I found her and she’s reassured him... Yoongi: Hammsi? Her cactus? Her echeveria succulents? Mrs. Min: He’s very important to her... Namjoon: Isksjskdjdkkdksjs Namjoon: Am I not important to her???

Namjoon is (furiously) typing... Taehyung is typing...

Namjoon: really? Tending her first boyfriend on our wedding day Taehyung: I chime in bc i saw joon’s chin out from across the fountain view Taehyung: whats happening people Taehyung: oh

Mrs. Min was right. You were watering the little cactus, affectionately named Harmssi.

“I’ve neglected you haven’t I...” you were pouring water on Harmssi, “No I don’t love you less than I love him, don’t say such things. He has his bonsais.”

It was then Namjoon’s rib got nudged by his friends. Then he got pushed into the little nursery by the hall, forced to coax his wife out her affairs with her cactus.

“I can’t believe she’s late for our wedding because she’s talking to Hammssi,” Namjoon straightens his vest and neatens his hair. As if he needed to. “Take it out on the honeymoon,” Yoongi hissed from behind him and went to hiding when you turned around. Namjoon slapped a smile as if he was there alone all along. He waves the boys away and they scurried. Except Taehyung. Who had to be dragged away.

“Hey booboo,” Namjoon starts with a pet name, hoping you haven't changed your mind about marrying him. “I’m sorry, I’m stalling the wedding am I?” You placed Hammssi on his little stone, avoiding eye contact with Namjoon. “Wha—No! We’re totally fine, they can wait a few more minutes,” Namjoon adds a nervous cackle at the end hoping he hasn’t fucked it up yet. “It’s just,” you paused, thumbing your echeveria leaves and that one tiny sprout still growing, “Hammssi had been with me for so long and he’s heard many stories about you and all the things we did... like he’s my best friend whom I check on and greet every morning and the one I say goodnight to before I sleep, and it just dawned on me that how things are going to change now.”

Namjoon’s palpitating heart begins to soften when he’s heard your reasons on being here instead of the altar. You were always stuck with one sided love for so long that you begin to be afraid of falling. You poured your heart and soul to little potted green friends because they never disappoint. Like humans do.

And it made sense to him because that’s what he felt too. To his bonsais. Nurturing is love too, you know.

“Apart from giving kisses to actual lips, and someone who can verbally speak back to you, nothing much is going to change. It doesn’t have to...” Namjoon trudges forward in small lunges, hands behind his back, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“I’m all in, and I’m afraid,” you watched your hand being held in his and he presses kisses on each of your knuckles while screwing his eyes shut. “What if one day you decide that I’m not good enough? What if one day you wake up and realised you don’t love me anymore? What do I do then? Where do I go with all this love?” “You come home...” he said, in murmurs, eyes glancing down at you, as he towers over your entire height, “And you remind me that we’re each other’s home. You yank me by the arms and you show me that I belong to you.”

The henna on your hand that he traces sensually, and stamped a lingering kiss on, that simple gesture signifies his ultimate devotion to you. With this kiss, he surrendered.

“Can we please get married now? If I had to deal with another year of complete abstinence I’m going to lose my mind.”

Present day, six years of marriage and nothing changes. He runs his fingers through his luscious locks of hair, sweaty forehead and slick chest, leaning against the headboard while you drew random shapes round and round his perky nipples.

“I told you we didn’t have to change the sheets yet,” he sighs, head fell thud on the wood behind him and a kiss on your hair. Your henna fits well on his clawed, naked chest with some bruises blossoming as the time ticks by.

“You think they’re pretty?” You held your hand out so you both could see the designs. “They’re pretty because you wore them, remember that...” he takes them and zooms his face to your nails next, “Have they always been that long?” “Yeah, if I shortened them more, it’ll bleed... why?”

“RIP my skin then, I guess...” he mewls.

The first thing he said on the night you spent together after the wedding, that still lingers in your head when you took more than 2 minutes to take out a block. You are probably the only girl in the world that at your horniest hours, chose to play Jenga on your first night with your fully wedded husband. Namjoon was resting on his stomach while you played your turn, getting bored out of waiting,

“Are you done yet?” “Nope... okay now I am.”

Namjoon knocks those Jenga tower down to the floor cold, and

“Whoops.” “You did that on purpose!” “Guess I gotta make out with you now. What a tragedy.” He crawls on all four, in your lap, sneering above you.

We’re definitely done, now.

.

.

.

copyright (c) 2019 namjoonchronicles, do not repost -- I know I haven’t been writing a lot, and thank you for being this patience... this story was birthed by a conversation I had with @ayixha a while ago. I had lots of bad days now, and this conversation made me smile and thought of sharing them with you lovely friends

[patricianandclerk]

If you still have asks open, I would love to see some TMA where some *other* Power's ritual succeeds, and Peter and Elias (and everyone else, if there is space) are forced to navigate *that* world.

Also I’m like obviously a massive Elias/Peter fan, so if you can work that in that would be great but obviously isn’t required.

My Ask | My Ko-Fi | My Ao3 | Requests always welcome!

Pretty canon-typical body horror, gore, and suicide talk.

The Tundraran aground on the yellow beach outside Shoeburyness, and she keeled hard toone side with a judder that hit from the base of Peter’s spine all the way upto the back of his teeth. He heard the rusted creak of a few of the shippingcontainers above breaking free of their moorings with the force of the slam,crunching against one another, and he managed to save himself from hitting hardagainst the metal wall.

He heard afew cries and moans of pain, shouts for help up and down some of the decks, butnone of them sounded incredibly urgent – injured limbs, perhaps, but none arethe wheezing shouts of anyone crushed beneath machinery. In any case, thecensus of those still alive was Tadeus’ responsibility – Peter had moreinteresting things to do.

He couldfeel the change in the world as he came onto the strangely balmy air of thedeck, and he was forced to move slowly and ungracefully to the edge of it, theship at a forty-five degree angle… The air itself was thick as molasses,slightly sweet on the tongue, and he softly sighed.

Staring outover the dunes that make up the Shoeburyness beach, spanning out into the far,far distance, he saw strange, spiralling shapes that made his eyes water. Evenbefore his eyes, the heavy dunes moved and shifted toward and away from thehorizon, the fat chunks of grass hopping from one dune to the next, scurryingthrough fractal patterns as though they were dancing steps, this time eight beats,this time three, then six, then three, then four—

“Tadeus!”Peter called out, turning back, and Tadeus took a few moments before he raisedhis head from the hatch, meeting Peter’s gaze where he came to crouch over it.

“Only halfa dozen injured, Captain, and no dead,” Tadeus said lowly.

“It doesn’tmatter, lad,” Peter replied, giving a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s the end of theline.” Peter put out his hand, expectant, and Tadeus stared at Peter’s palm, atthe rough-hewn surface of his skin, and when he lookeed up to Peter’s eyes, Petersaw the lovely, lovely fear there.

Such ashame it wasn’t the time to enjoy it.

Tadeus,hands shaking just slightly, bowed his head and drew the whistle on its chainfrom about it, setting it into Peter’s palm.

“You canrun, if you like,” Peter said mildly. “I won’t mind.”

“Is— Is itbetter to be Forsaken, than whatever that is?” Tadeus asked, and his gaze flittedfrom Peter’s face to the shifting, spiralling dunes. His lips were parted, andhe looked not terrified, nor desperate, nor even angry, but resigned. He knewthis would com, one day, Peter supposed. This, or something like it.

“I thinkso,” Peter said. “But I could kill you, if you’d rather. I think you’d preferthat, Tadeus.”

“You wouldn’trather condemn me with the rest?”

“I would,”Peter allowed, shrugging two great shoulders, and he smiled, very kindly, verywarmly. Tadeus shivered. “But we’re friends, you and I. I’m willing to make asacrifice for you before I attend to my… Ha. My other responsibilities.”

For a moment,Tadeus was quiet and taciturn, and then he reached out, his hand touching Peter’schest underneath the thick fabric of his woollen coat, touching only more cordedwool, but he relaxed as though he found a heartbeat there, his eyes closingshut. He nodded his head, slowly, and Peter smiled, reaching out to cup hischeeks.

He wasmerciful twice over – a quick snap, and that was all, Tadeus falling forwardand into his arms.

Peter slungthe body over his shoulder, clambering down one of the ladders to the shifting sands,and he walked with Tadeus going slowly cool against his chest. It would figure,he supposed, that the Distortion would complete their ritual, and rain theirstrange terror down on the world… And what terror it was.

It would bedifficult to say how far he walked from the Tundra, but he kept the oldboat in sight, and when he blew on the whistle, the fog rolled in thick and heavyfrom the sea, coiling about the ship in fat, heavy twists that were still toothick and too normal to be of the Spiral. They shared… It could hardlybe called an alliance.

It issimply that they were too similar to easily destroy one another, case in point –Peter walked, never lost, over the beach, looking out over the plains that nowmade up Essex. It would be a long, long walk, were it not for the souls in theLonely to nourish him, as he made his way west.

He couldfollow the Thames.

Evenspiralling, twisting, he knew her well enough to follow her home.

–

He laid Tadeusdown outside London. He didn’t even need to bury him: the brick of the cobblesshifted and twisted about his body until it was swallowed down beneath thebrick and brick and earth and earth, and Peter walked on, into the city. Thecorridors made by too-tall buildings twisted unnaturally, but Peter kept on astraight path, forcing them to spiral around him.

He heardthe screams, of course.

They weredistant, tangled up amidst their own insanities, so caught up as to forget to evenbe lonely. It was tragic, in a way.

So close tothat beautiful perfection, and yet so, so far away—

The MagnusInstitute was dark, but Peter didn’t need much light to traverse the strange,unnatural corridors. The scant oil light allowed him enough to see his way, andhe moved down the corridors in search of Jonah’s— of James’—

—of Elias’office.

The door creakedloudly when Peter pushed it open, although he knew that Elias was near obsessiveabout keeping the hinges oiled, to avoid such pedestrian displays oftheatricality. In the dark, he saw the still new, still not-quite-familiar shapeof Elias’ body on the floor, and he actually felt a twinge of panic before heconfirmed that Elias was sitting up and supporting his own weight, even thoughhe was on the ground.

He wasleaned forward, his knees drawn halfway up toward his chest, his arms looselywrapped around his knees, his hand curled into his usually perfectly-coiffed hair.Peter stared down at him, scarcely silhouetted by the oil light from the corridor.

“Sulking,are you?” Peter asked, and in the half-light he saw Elias’ mouth fall open, sawhis head rise. So much emotion could be gleaned from that slackening jaw, thatgasp of eager relief.

“Peter?”Elias asked, and Peter chuckled lowly, taking a slow step forward in the dark,his hands sliding into his coat pockets. Elias was facing away from him, halfof his face still in shadow, and Peter reached out, sliding his hand into Elias’hair. Elias did not go so far as to sigh, but he did lean his head minutely backinto Peter’s hand, which was the biggest sign of distress Peter could hope for.

“Hi, honey,”he purred. “I’m home. Guess Gertie took her attention off the pot, hm?”

“She madeto intervene,” Elias said lowly. “Evidently, the intervention in question wasinsufficient. Welcome unto the Great Twisting, Peter. Do enjoy your stay.”

“You and Iare better suited than most,” Peter said mildly. “Better the Spiral than theDesolation – or, God forbid, Hunt. I hate running. It’s undignified.”

Elias’ headturned slightly wrong toward him. He did not turn to face Peter, but turned hisear to listen to him, and yet the angle at which he listened was… Hm.Peter gently scratched over Elias’ scalp, and then stepped around Elias to lookat his face.

The gapingsockets that were once his eyes were scraped clean, blood stained rusty-red onhis cheeks and his forehead. Peter suppressed the twin urges to gasp and toclutch Elias close to him; equally, he felt a surge of distant triumph.

“Oh, Elias,”Peter murmured, feeling the grin come to his mouth and hoping that Elias wouldbe able to hear it in his voice. “I see. Obviously, you aren’t using youreyes sufficiently, so why should you get to keep them?”

“You assumeit was my patron that took my eyes?” Elias asked, but his lips quivered. Helooked deliciously pale, and his skin was chalky – the terror rolled off of himin waves, the fear of blindness, of not knowing, and of course, of course, of beingalone. It was such a lovely thing, to see Elias vulnerable, withoutthe Eye to protect him. “I might have removed them myself.”

“No,” Petersaid.

“… No,”Elias agreed, and Peter’s hand cupped Elias’ cheek.

“I alwaystold you, darling, that my work came with more benefits than yours.”

“Because youlooked only for the benefits,” Elias said, disapproval dripping from his voice,and Peter tipped his chin up to look better at the bloody, empty sockets, toadmire the smoothness Elias’ patron had punished him with. “Your worship wasnever selfless.”

“And yethere I am, rewarded,” Peter purred, “whilst you are shivering in your sanctum,blinded, and afraid.”

Elias shuddered,and Peter cupped his cheeks, sliding his thumbs over the stubble on Elias’cheeks – he couldn’t shave, of course, without a razor, and he had no doubtbeen alone in the spiral for days on end. He leaned in, closer, brushed hislips against Elias’, felt how cool they were, felt how he shivered, and thensurged in for more, wanting for the heat of Peter’s tongue and his mouth, theassurance that Peter was here, and real.

It was forthat reason that Peter broke them apart, and the broken noise Elias releasedfrom the very back of his throat was an ecstasy of sublime proportions, adelicious morsel that settled on Peter’s tongue, and he savoured it. Theworld had gone mad, gone mad and abandoned the monster that was Elias Bouchard,and now he was there for the taking.

“I can killyou, if you like,” Peter said softly.

“Just soyou can be alone?” Elias asked, raising his head just slightly. “Is that whatyou offered Tadeus?”

“You knowme so well,” Peter murmured. “I’d offer to keep you safe, sweetheart, butblind, powerless? You’d be such a liability.”

“Very well,”Elias said, smooth as butter. “Leave me, then.”

He alwaysdid have an infuriating habit of calling Peter’s bluffs.

“You’re noteven going to tell me, with the world ended and everyone going mad, that you’reglad to see me alive?”

“I’m afraidI don’t see you alive, Peter,” Elias murmured, and Peter laughed,shoving Elias in the centre of the chest. Elias went down hard and fast – hemust have been, Peter mused, starving. He couldn’t take in his usual sustenance,watching all that went on, and food in a world like this, real food, realnourishment, was near impossible to trust. Peter hadn’t looked yet, of course,but he knew it – you’d think it was food until you touched it, tastedit, swallowed it, and then you’d find it was razorblades, or worms, or—

It was a lotof effort, keeping a pet like Elias.

Uppity, andirritable, and powerless in the way a human never could be – blindness wasn’tjust a loss of sight for him, but a loss of centre, of knowledge, ofunderstanding, of all he was. All he was now, all he was left over,was Peter’s.

Elias’ headtouched against the carpet on the floor, and Peter loomed over him, his forearmsbraced either side of his head, and Peter could see Elias’ face, the solemnityin it, the quiet, distant pain. It had nothing to do with Peter, nor with beinglonely. Peter supposed it must be dreadfully hard going, to give up as much asElias had to one’s god, and be rejected for it.

What theBeholding didn’t want, Peter was glad to take up instead.

“You werewaiting in the dark,” Peter said, “to die.”

“I thoughtyou were already dead,” Elias said softly. His eyes used to be so beautifullycold: Peter used to fantasize about drowning in them.

“You know,”Peter murmured, “if we put the world back together, your dear patron might giveyou your eyes back.”

“Hope?”Elias asked, and then laughed, low and dark and hoarse. “I changed my mind,Peter. Kill me.”

Peterkissed him instead, as the floor beneath them twisted into fractal afterfractal, shattering into infinity like mad, mad glass.