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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Day of the Animals

While perhaps not my favorite episode this season, Day of the Animals is easily the best written story of season three. Even so, it still has problems due to the third season’s poor approach to characterization.

Summary: Rapunzel, Varian, Angry and Red are returning stolen loot that the two girls had stolen years ago. They are accompanied by Max, Pascal, Ruddiger and Hamuel who all cannot stop quarreling with each other (or in Hamuel's case, just being useless). While messing with a sea shell pendant, it magically transports the humans into it, leaving the animals to fight over it. A minor thug named Dwayne, steals the pendant forcing the animals to work together to retrieve it.

So Why is a Polynesian Inspired Kingdom Within Riding Distance of a Northern European Country?

If you’ll remember my review of Beginnings, Neserdina’s princesses were wearing Polynesian garb and dancing the Hula when prepping for the competition. Now I’ve already went into length as to why that’s not good representation, but in addition to that it’s also just plain dumb. You can’t just transport one ethic group and dump them into another part of the world because it’s convenient for you. You don’t earn any brownie points for doing that. Especially when your fantasy world is still based off of our own historical earth.

To make things even more confusing, we actually saw Neserdina way back in season one in Way of the Willow. It’s where Willow bought the gremlin knock-off.

That is an island. How the heck do you get to a volcanic island riding in a horse and cart? And don't tell me they’re riding to a port, because Corona is a port city already. They could have gotten there by boat. It’s also can’t be too far away from Corona’s borders if Angry and Red were able to get there on foot during their year long travels.

The only explanation is that the entirety of the Tangled crew doesn’t understand geography, and this won’t be the last example in the show to back up that statement.

So Why Is Rapunzel Here?

We get explanations for why everyone is on this road trip, except for the main character herself. Red and Angry are trying to return some stolen loot. Varian is wanting to pick up rare alchemy supplies at the market and was invited along because Raps hopes it’ll be a chance for Ruddiger and Max to get know one another better.

But why on earth does Rapunzel feel the need to come on this trip herself? Doesn’t she have a kingdom to run? While I’m sure Eugene is more than capable of handling things, this doesn’t reflect well upon the writers supposed plan of making Rapunzel appear more responsible.

Literally any other adult could have come along on this trip. This wasn’t something Rapunzel needed to waste time on. Lance especially would have been more appropriate here as he’s the one who’s suppose to eventually adopt Angry and Red. And the sad thing is, all they had to do was give Rapunzel a line about needing to attend some sort of diplomatic business in Neserdina. That’s it.

In a show that’s supposed to be all about Rapunzel; Rapunzel sure doesn’t have a whole lot of reasons to exist in the majority of the episodes.

Lack of Worldbuilding Strikes Again

At this point I’m kind of numb to the whole “magical thing just exists for no adequately explained reason” and so I’m not as upset as some people are about the shell necklace. But it’s still not good writing.

Why does this thing exist? How did come to be cursed? How did it get mixed in with their stuff? What activated the magic and why did it only effect the human’s even though the animals were closer to it?

Just something show. Anything. You bothered to give use rules for how this thing works and even stuck to them this time, but you can’t just make the last leg of the trip and give us some exposition?

Yeah, okay.

So Where Exactly Are We in Relation to Corona?

We can see Pittsford and Ivangarr on the road sign and we have to be in riding distance to Neserdina from Corona, but like are we in Corona still? Are we in Koto, which is Corona’s nearest neighbor to the east according to season three. Are we in some no-man’s-land where none of the kingdoms have control, or are we already in Neserdina itself?

The series gives us no sense of direction nor any firm placement for Corona within it’s world. I only know it is a Northern European country because Corona itself is a peninsula with a north sea, uses French, English, and German fashion/customs, and Rapunzel is a Germanic fairy tale. But like those clues are thrown into a blender and contradicted several times over, on top of never being told where it’s closest kingdoms actually lie.

All of this matters when traveling and exploring the wider world are big themes of your show. You need more solid and consistent world building than this. It also impacts how much authority and control your main character has within the episode itself if she range of political power is limited to one area. So like we need to know where the heroes stand here.

(FYI I personally headcannon Corona as former Prussia which was once part of Germany and it’s alliance of smaller kingdoms. It’s also a peninsula next to the Curonian Spit)

This Is Not Progress

Okay so the idea here, is that the show is implying that Rapunzel is trying to improve Corona’s justice system over Frederic’s previously inhumane crack down on crime. However, this is terribly executed.

For starters the show has never called Frederic nor Rapunzel out for their previous misbehavior. You can not change any system for the better without acknowledging the flaws within said system first. Therefore this comes right out of nowhere and doesn’t stick around long enough to stay within the viewers minds for later.

Secondly, Rapunzel is incredibly fickle about who she does and doesn’t set free. The Saporians were still in the dungeons last time we saw them, Caine was shipped off to the prison island and left to die there as far as we know, and the Stabbingtons are shown shackled together in the wedding short even though they supposedly changed their ways and befriended Eugene again.

Meanwhile Dwayne and Stalyan are free to go their marry way and continue their life of crime, Varian is only released from his overly harsh punishment because he kissed Rapunzel’s ass not because it was wrong to imprison him in the first place, and later Cassandra gets away scot free because she’s Rapunzel’s bestie even though she committed the worst crimes out of everyone in the show and for very little reason.

That’s not justice. That’s not compassion. That’s not progressive reform. It’s just nepotism, and it’s every bit as corrupt as Frederic’s classism and totalitarianism.

Just because Rapunzel is “nice” it doesn’t mean that she is kind. Real reform has to treat everyone with equality and have a set of base standards that are beyond one person’s personal judgment. She is still a dictator and an abuser even if she lets the occasional person go free on a whim.

Finally, Rapunzel’s methods are just downright ineffective. Dwyane may not be a threat to our heroes, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a threat to other people. He’s not actually sorry about trying to rob people at knife point and he fully plans on continuing being a thief after feeding Rapunzel the lines she wants to hear.

Furthermore, we don’t know if this course of action is born out of malice or desperate need. He half heartily comments about finding ‘an honest job” but can he even do that? Is it even a realistic option for him? The series has been weaving this class inequality theme through out it’s past three seasons and directly connecting that to Corona’s crime rate.

Eugene had a hard time finding a job during season one directly due to his past record, remember? A life of crime he was forced to lead in order to survive, and he’s the Prince Consort! What chance does Dwayne have? Did Rapunzel even try to help him find work or did she just wag her finger at him and told him “Now, now, stealing’s not nice.”

The show wants to act like Rapunzel is this progressive reformer but then they turn her into a Republican instead. That’s not me being sarcastic either, this approach to criminal justice is the foundation of conservative belief and has been for centuries. The right are not interested in why people commit crime. They don’t care about addressing the fundamental problems in society that lead people to break the law. Let alone bother to analyze why those laws exist in the first place. Instead they resort to doublethink and survivor bias to either write off those that fall through the cracks or make excuses for why their policies repeatedly fail, often ignoring the fact that things aren’t actually working for whole swathes of people who aren’t themselves.

Tangled the Series is far too simplistic and childish in it’s approach to deeper subjects like this to enforce the messages it supposedly wants to enforce. Rapunzel herself relies on magical thinking, double standards, and personal bias to see her through every and any problem and the show just rewards her for it rather than challenging her to grow and in doing so winds up supporting people like her in their authoritarian ideas, whether that was the writers’ intentions or not.

In short, Rapunzel shows no interest in putting in the real work it would take to implement genuine restorative justice. She doesn't honestly care about Dwyane or his victims. She’s just posturing here for the sake of her self image.

You’re Not In Any Position to Talk Rapunzel

Speaking of Rapunzel being a hypocrite.... The entirety of season three’s main conflict is her having a petty bitch fight with her supposed best friend and needlessly dragging everyone else into it.

In fact that’s the whole show. Rapunzel repeatedly failing to get along with other people because she’s deep down a shitty person despite the veneer of ‘friendliness’ she slaps on to hide it. Having her just say she knows better does nothing to convince me that she’s actually learned anything. You have to show that she’s learned it first, and that requires acknowledging her own wrong doings.

Varian’s face here just tells it all. Rapunzel is full of shit and no one in the show knows it better than him. Why are they even friends again? Why should we trust her with the three kids she neglected more than once? Why should any of these people take what she says seriously?

Well This is Contradictory

Also, since we brought up double standards, here’s Varian undermining that whole “jail is bad” thing Rapunzel is trying to push with Dwayne and later with Cass. Not only is the show under cutting it’s themes for a joke, but it just reinforces the abuse Varian received. He’s now bought into Frederic’s stupid beliefs and winds up reinforcing to the audience that that his ‘reform’ was due to his past imprisonment.

As an adult watching this series, Varian’s supposed redemption continues to increasingly look like a victim complying with their past abuser out of fear of further harm rather than anyone genuinely learning to be better.

Can We Please Stop Infantilizing the 16 Year Old

As if to deflect from Varian’s past mistreatment and continuing parentification, the show then goes on to showcase the opposite extreme whenever possible. I know it’s hard to tell just from these few screen shots alone, but over the course of season three Varian is spoken down too and treated condescendingly by the rest of the cast, and by Rapunzel in particular, even as he enters his later teens/early adulthood.

Some of this is just to due to Rapunzel being her usual holier than thou self, but there’s also times, like here, where Varian is lumped together with the actual children of the show, even though he’s 6 to 8 years their senior.

In fact out of everyone Rapunzel interacts with, Varian’s actually the closest to her in both age and development. Queen for a Day forced the two of them into a power imbalance due to a mixture of classism and society’s ongoing unhealthy (and often artificial) divide between younger and older teens, but as we get further and further away from that point in time and as Varian nears the same age Rapunzel started out as, that imbalance becomes less and less relevant.

Look at how this scene is framed, He’s standing between Angry and Red and is placed lower than them to make it look like he’s one of them. He’s not.

Varian may still look 12 with his big old eyes and short stature, but seeing as how we’re past Hearts Day, he’s actually close to being 17, if he isn’t already. The timeline gets even wonkier after The King and Queen of Hearts, but trust me, we’re close to being two years past Queen for a Day, if not more so.

Varian, for all counts, should be Rapunzel’s equal by now in terms of story. Not only is he closest in age to her, but he’s also the only other person going through a coming of age arc. And of the two, Varian’s the one who has actually learned and grown as a person. He has more real world experience than Rapunzel ever will and knows how to implement that experience. (He’s also the more mature, but that’s more of a failure to write Rapunzel competently than a reflection of his capabilities.)

No matter how you slice it, Varian shouldn’t be taking orders or advice from Rapunzel; no one should be, really; and he most certainly shouldn’t put up with her condescension. Rapunzel is not his nor anybody else’s mother. She’s not even a big sister like figure, and at no point should be treated as the leader of anything or anyone.

Rapunzel is a Poor Man’s Rose Quartz

I typically try not to draw too many comparisons between Tangled and other shows outside of the occasional parallel, as a show should be able to stand on it’s own for good or for bad, but it’s hard not to discuss the series without also discussing Steven Universe in some way.

Steven Universe is this generation’s Batman the Animated Series or Scooby Doo. It’s the game changer that everybody else is trying to copy in some manner. Chris desperately wants Tangled the Series to be the next Steven Universe, right down to how the show is structured, paced, and what themes are presented. But unfortunately Chris has no idea why Steven Universe works the way it does.

For starters SU adjusted it’s pacing as it went along, smoothing out its rougher edges while Tangled doubled down on its filler. SU had a planned arc from the get go and stuck to it, so that by the time the twists came they made sense. SU kept it’s focus on Steven purposefully so that the story unfolded from his view point while making to sure to acknowledge the importance of other characters around him and their conflicts. It didn’t make him infallible nor shove aside everyone else’s arcs.

But most importantly, Steven Universe was written by a bisexual nonbinary person who set out to make a show for people in the queer community like themselves. Meanwhile, as a middle aged white man, Chis hasn’t a damn clue about his primary audience and has shown no interest in connecting with them.

This isn’t to say that Steven Universe is a perfect show. No show is beyond criticism. Nor is this to say that straight white cis men can’t write; many of them do and can portray characters unlike themselves competently enough. But if you’re completely disinterested in other points of view than you can’t be a good writer of fictional stories, that’s just a fact. Because in order to understand proper characterization you need to acknowledge that not every character ever will be like you and that even you’re main heroes will hold beliefs and experiences different from yourself. Otherwise there is no genuine conflict to build off of. Either no one will disagree with each other or the conflict will come across as flat and forced, complete with lopsided bias.

Therefore, in the end, Rapunzel winds up being less of a Steven and more of a Rose Quartz/Pink Dimond. Both are spoiled princesses/co-rulers of a kingdom that mistreats it’s people and anyone outside of it, who rebelled against their guardians, supposedly out of a sense of justice, but really for themselves and their own freedom, only to make things even worse for everyone. On top of that they both accidently harmed their friends, freindzone their best friend while also bossing them around, are condescending to their love interests, is controlling of people who trust them, and throws temper tantrums when they don’t get what they want, oh and neglected someone for an inhumane amount of time.

Even then, Rapunzel winds up being the worst of the two.

The whole point behind Rose was that she is someone whom the main characters place upon a pedestal and as the series went along slowly had the scales fall from their eyes and learned to view her for who she really was flaws and all. By the end, in Future, she is even metaphorically removed from her pedestal when Steven removes her picture from the wall.

Rose also grows as a character, unlike Rapunzel. Her story is deliberately being told to us backwards. The awful person she was in the past was no longer who she was by the time of her death. True she was still flawed, and the consequences of her actions continued on even after her demise, but she actually tried to be a better person. She got called out for her behavior, she wasn’t excused for actions even when the show explained why she did what she did, and she stopped doing harmful actions whenever she realized that they hurt someone.

Greg was allowed to stand up to her and show how she was wrong, and she respected him for it and later fell in love with him because of it. She tried to better control her temper when she wound up hurting her friend. Her failed revolution and her mistreatment of Spinel was actually born from a misguided desire to help, rather than outright selfishness.

Rose Quratz/Pink Dimond is a brilliant fucking character. You may not like her, but you can’t deny that she is one of the most complex figures in children’s media to ever be created. She is real, nuanced, and multifaceted. He role within the story is complicated, messy, and intricate. She is the most well rounded female character I’ve ever seen and she is what I had hoped Rapunzel would be when I first watched season one, only even more so as the actual focus.

I want women in cartoons to be people!

But Rapunzel fails at every turn to follow through with this promise. She is not a deep complex character. She’s not a flawed and complicated heroine. She’s a blank canvas in which the creator can shove his creepy ass views upon. She is never taken off her pedestal, she’s never allowed to be wrong, and she is forced to spout the the creator’s personal bias against other characters.

Rapunzel isn’t a person. She had the chance to be one, but then was reduced to .. to this. As a woman, the treatment of Rapunzel and Cassandra in this show is just flat out insulting.

So What Is the Difference Between Angry and Red Now?

I’m all for character growth, but at this point Angry and Red are just interchangeable. Anything that made them uniquely them has been lost, and they’re now just fulfilling the generic rambunctious little kid trope. Red becoming more assertive shouldn’t mean she stops being an introvert altogether; that’s not how that works. While Angry shouldn’t lose her temper completely just because she’s wiling to open up more.

So Why Dwayne?

I like Dwayne as a character and in truth I don’t mind his existence here, and unlike that werewolf hunter last time he at least was established in a pervious season. But this is still time that could have went to a more important antagonist.

Also notice that Dwyane gets a villain song, but not Lady Caine or Zhan Tiri. Just saying.

Rapunzel Has Not Earned the Role of the Wise Sage and Mentor

Rapunzel has never learned to listen to others. Ever.

On it’s own this might have been a good speech, but when taken in context of the wider story it just makes Rapunzel look like an ass.

A year traveling does not make Rapunzel suddenly all knowing. She is not wiser nor more experienced than anyone else in this scene. She’s also a crappy leader and big fat hypocrite.

Even when she’s technically right, as seen here, she’s still in the wrong because she never follows through and acts upon her own advice; making this whole story pointless in the grand scheme of things.

And that’s the core problem with season three. Rapunzel is shoved into a role she is not designed for and the whole premise of the series runs right off the rails. You’re main heroine in a coming of age story can not inhabit the mentor role. She can not simultaneously learn and grow and be always right while instructing everyone else.

All through out season three Rapunzel is either rendered completely useless in her own damn series, or she utterly fails to fulfill any sort of narrative promise laid out for her while she infuriatingly hijacks the story from more interesting and dynamic characters.

Behold The Only Reason Why Varian was Included in the Episode

Speaking of hijacking things, Rapunzel of course has to get the idea to save everybody, even though what she thinks of isn’t anything special. It’s not derived from her character as an individual nor from all that experience she supposedly has. It’s literally an idea anyone could have come up with and the show just hands it to her in order to justify her exitance.

Meanwhile the character who actually is useful to the plot is sidelined and reduced to just a plot device. And not just here, Varian is rendered practically pointless in all but two episodes in season three, even in episodes that he actually should have more impact in, like the season opener and series finale.

Good writing treats characters as equally contributing to the plot in ways that complements who these characters are.

Ok I’ll Admit That This Line Is Funny

Look, I know this whole review series is about pointing out the negative, and I stand by my opinion that Tangled the Series is one of the worst written shows I’ve ever seen, but I want to make one thing clear.... I do not hate the show. If I hated the show I would not waste my time reviewing it.

Yes the over all writing is shit, but there are a lot of good things to be found in the series beyond just the crap story arc. The humor is usually solid, the animation is gorgeous, the music is a delight, and the majority of the characters are likable even though they don’t develop in the ways that they should. There’s a lot of talent that went into this show and there’s a lot of potential to be had in it’s set up and lore.

Being critical or negative about the aspects of something doesn’t mean you dislike it, or that you’re not a real fan, or that you’re just a ‘hater’, and I actually find TTS to be fascinating because it’s such a mess. I write reviews because they’re fun and because I genuinely think there is something to be learned from Tangled’s mistakes.

So Why Do We Cut Back to Rapunzel Here and Not Varian?

This is such an odd framing choice. Varian is the one who is talking and reacting to what’s happening. It’s his pet that’s in trouble and therefore he carries the emotional weight of the scene, and yet it’s Rapunzel’s shocked face we focus on? Why? What’s the point of that? She has no business being the center focus here. The action does not involve her.

If you wanted to include her for a later set up then why not have both her and Varian present in this shot? Usually I can at least count on the story boarders to frame things better than this, but they really missed the mark here. Unless Chris is just that stupid and petty that he over ruled them and forced Varian out of the scene, but that seems like a pointless fight to pick, even for him.

See This is How you Fulfill a Narrative Promise

The conflict between Ruddiger and Max was set up in season one with What the Hair, then it was reiterated a few episodes ago during The Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne, and then it was reintroduced in this episode along with a stated lesson about working together that they needed to learn. By they end of the episode, guess what, they’ve learned to work together. That is how you properly set up and resolve a conflict.

It’s clear from this that the writers of Tangled the Series know the basic tenants of writing and how to fulfill narrative promises. So the fact that they don’t follow through with this in the majority of the show’s episodes and ongoing story arcs just baffles me.

Is it negligence? Is it hubris? Is it incompetent management and editorial mandates? Is it just one asshole ruining everything or is this a failure in the writers room as a whole?

I just don’t understand what the fuck went wrong here. There’s no reason for why the show got as bad as it did. How does the most acclaimed animation company in the world put out such amateurish tripe?

Just... wow.

Now you know why I’m mesmerized by this show. It is a mystery to be solved, like trying to figure out how the crew on the Titanic fucked up so badly or why Hindenburg blew up. You just can’t look away.

Conclusion

Like I said at the start, structurally speaking this is the strongest episode of the season. I personally enjoy Lost Treasure a little more, just because Rapunzel annoys me less in that, but it’s not a bad story. However when you’re best episode in your final season is filler, then you know you’re in trouble.

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#tangled #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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loyally-unfaithful · 4 years ago

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—; it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas.

word count: 3.6k

pairing: razor/gn!reader; razor/traveler

genre: fluff

summary: « i remember… purple mentor say ‘mistletoe’ a big part of weihnachten. »

you looked at the plant in slight bewilderment, not quite sure what to make of this offering. it was cute.

« oh. »

razor stares expectantly at you as you watch him make no further attempt to move. you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, the banality of everything setting into your mind. or maybe you’re getting sleepy. you wonder: « do you know why, razor? »

a/n: secret santa secret santa secret santa anyway, this is my side of the secret santa gift for @absolutely-rational—i chose to write a thing for razor, but i barely play the game and i haven’t met him or own him* or anything so i apologise if it’s a little ooc ,,,, merry christmas and happy holidays ^^

p.s. as the man who’s good at saying very little in way too many words, the length of this fic just exploded and it’s alot longer than what i wanted it to be dskljfsldkja

heads-up

i write dialogues in what i will call the french/european system? anyway, i see that it's not the dialogue formatting that most english readers are accustomed to so i modified it slightly to be easier to understand basically dialogues will be within guillemets (« »), and words that are within the quotation marks but are italicised are actions and/or dialogue verbs.

hope that clears things out a bit and i hope you give me and my fic a chance :)

« weih… nachten…? »

he tilts his head slightly, not unlike a dog. what’s that? razor repeats your words slowly, tentatively, enunciating the foreign word with care. he wonders if the words sound strained coming from him. words are hard.

« that’s right! it’s a large festival in teyvat, and even more so in the city! you elaborated, sensing his confusion. here in mondstadt it’s called weihnachten and it’s supposed to be about, you know, spending time with friends and family, passing around gifts and presents to those you care about. »

you soon felt at ease as you continued: this world had its differences, but it had its similarities. it had its own equivalent of christmas. something that you know about. sure, maybe the origin is different, maybe it had different customs and traditions, but it was a comforting familiarity in the midst of everything that’s so staggeringly foreign. then again, you suppose that’s what drew you closer to the silver-haired boy: neither of you truly fit in, nor fully understood the strange world you happen to be in.

though at the very least, razor had his lupical. as bittersweet as it was, it warmed your heart to know that at least he had family to be around with during christmas, and well, around… in general.

« weihnachten. he says, this time with more conviction. how to celebrate? – well for starters, (where do you even begin?) we’d decorate our homes with all sorts of festive trinkets and we’d fill the streets with all sorts of sparkly things. garlands, lights, flowers, ribbons; decorations that’ll spruce up the place and make the city light up. it always made people cheer up and get in the holiday mood, especially at night when the fairy lights twinkle about! »

razor’s mouth moved in a silent gasp. then does that mean that those bright stars he liked so much were not stars, but rather lights? is that why they seemed to be brighter near the end of the year? the people from the city decorated, he considered. is that why the stars’ reflection, bouncing around in the lake, were an array of dazzling colours, from glittering red and shimmering green to captivating shade’s who’s name he doesn’t know?

« is why… sometimes stars explode? he wondered. – yup! though we don’t usually light up fireworks until new year’s. you wondered for a moment. do you like fireworks, razor? the silver-haired boy frowned, lost in thought, before shaking his head. – loud. scary. me and my lupical, we go hide. we don’t like… firework. »

you hummed in understanding. dogs have never been fond of fireworks and firecrackers either.

« fire is bad. why light firework? isn’t it big hassle? »

it reminded razor of the red, burny girl. fun person, friend! but the toys she uses are loud and dangerous, they create explosions and fire, just like fireworks.

« hmm, i guess… you pursed your lips in thought. good question. i guess that at this point we all just do it out of tradition. new year’s brings a lot of excitement, and people let it out by lighting them up. it’s also really pretty. »

the more he thought about it, and the more he learned about it, the less he understood the celebration. why? it’s loud and distracting. bright colours hurt eyes, doesn’t it? it’s time spent with your family, but razor is with his lupical everyday. do humans… not spend time with their lupical regularly? why is this specific day so special from the rest of the year? he doesn’t get all the funny dates and celebrations humans have to keep track of. seems like a big hassle. sounds complicated.

« no such thing as weihnachten in wolvendom, huh? »

he shook his head.

you tucked your finger under your chin, pondering, in slight puzzlement. back in your world, you would’ve been able to take pictures—maybe that would’ve helped him visualise it better—but you couldn’t here in teyvat. a sigh. anyway, it’s not like you had your camera on your person anymore, so you do your best to describe your happiest sensations, experiences, memories of christmas: the smell of hot cocoa on a cool winter morning, the crackle of firewood from the hearth, and the feeling of soft wool on your skin, hugging you from the biting cold. the merry and jovial carols sung by the star singers, the gleeful chattering between friends out on the street, and the boisterous cheering and partying coming from the many bars and restaurants in mondstadt. the comforting arias and prayers echoing from within the cathedral, the mouth-watering aroma and fragrance of treats from the christmas market, and the grand christmas tree placed at the heart of the city decorated with even more opulent and lavish garlands and baubles, the vivid glimmering lights reflected from your eyes.

describe the different little things that made christmas different and more special from the rest of the year.

somehow this time that you took to pay the wolf boy a visit was consumed by you rambling about the merry holiday, drivel that he listened to attentively and with a pure and honest kind of curiosity (even if he doesn’t always understand you) that you found endearing and made your heart flutter, until the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars adorning the city shined out, rivalling those peppering the night sky. until the howls from his family called him away from you, and until you motivated yourself to begin your trek back to mondstadt after sitting in the woods alone.

being with him was always a welcome distraction, you thought.

december 25th.

paimon was dozing off after stuffing her face full of the dishes from the christmas banquet (good for her!), the cup of tea you had between your hands had gotten cold, and your breath was fogging the frosted window in front of your desk. you mindlessly traced a smiley face on condensation. you can see the ever changing colourful lights blinking through the glass pane. you take another gulp of the unpleasant liquid, unsatisfying as you feel it slowly go down your throat. the calming and comforting scent it brought (it was chamomile) having long dissipated.

sighing, you pulled your fingers off the cold china, deciding it wasn’t worth finishing, and quietly slipped out of your room (which was graciously granted to you by the knights of favonius), taking care to slot the chair back under the desk and gently close the door behind you. you wondered if taking a walk would help you feel better. you tightened your shawl around you and buried your freezing hands into your pockets. head down, you quickened your pace to… wherever your legs were taking you.

another sigh.

you smiled almost bitterly to how much of a grinch you were being. you liked christmas, or rather, you liked what it stood for, and you liked the idea of spending the winter months with your closed ones.

a few hours ago, the knights of favonius had organised a small christmas party at angel’s share, and though they had thoroughly reassured you that you belonged and were included in this celebration, you couldn’t help but keep to yourself and stick to a corner of the bar. you couldn’t bring yourself to join in on the fun, or talk to others. you didn’t feel like it was your place to force yourself into their conversation, into their lives. you were grateful that they thought about you, and you didn’t want to question their kindness, but… you nursed your glass of virgin cocktail, peeling your eyes away from your wonky reflection on the liquid.

you weren’t exactly at home: you looked at jean and barbara, happily exchanging jokes and teases. a relaxed sort of conversation, banter which flowed, almost as if it were rehearsed, in a way that was only possible between sisters. that night, the deaconess wasn’t smiling as if she was holding back tears. the carefree girl was speaking with jean (rather than the acting grand master) who allowed herself some respite from the demanding position.

you look at the uncharacteristic smile on the bartender’s (who happened to be none other than diluc that evening) face, and you doubted that kaeya, sharp-eyed as ever, missed it either. it was subtle. but it was there. you don’t miss the way the cavalry captain held back on his sarcastic remarks or the way diluc wasn’t being “deliberately uncivil” (as kaeya would put it) either; the way the red-head indulges kaeya’s seemingly insatiable thirst for alcohol while the latter makes an effort to maintain a friendly, if curt, chatter.

a particularly loud giggle drew your gaze back at the two sisters: lisa seemed to have joined them. you sipped your beverage, half-hearted. the three seemed to have started a rather animate discussion. you hear them laugh again. it makes you frown, but you shake your head, pushing those angry thoughts out of your mind. just because you’re miserable (even though you shouldn’t be—your friends are with you) doesn’t mean they have to feel down with you.

setting your glass down on the table, you wondered if you would've felt better if you were with someone closer to your age, but amber had gone home early: she dropped by and hung out for a bit before going home to spend time with her family. your glass is empty now. you feel… envious. you wished you could spend this christmas season with your family. it’s not fair. it’s not fair.

your favonian family, and yet you were out of place.

you excused yourself early from the gathering, the other members politely bidding you farewell and a merry christmas (« frohe weichnachten! »), and quickly went up the path leading to the order’s headquarters, wanting to hide away in your room as soon as possible.

now, you stop before the lavish tree: it’s as grand and brilliant as it’s always been. but now it seems much too bright. the colours an eyesore. singing sounds more like knives being dug into your eardrums.

your head hurts.

a humourless chuckle escaped you. you used to take turns with your sibling on who got to slot in the christmas topper.

this year was their turn.

back then, your sibling made a point to hang gingerbread treats on the tree, and you made a point to eat them behind their back come christmas morning.

normally, you’d be sharing gifts with your sibling during this time of the year.

your entire life they’ve always been there by your side, and you by theirs. for better or for worse, you kept each other company. you’ve always spent christmas with them.

this was your first christmas without.

the rest of your thoughts are jumbled, incoherent. something your long term memory didn’t deem worthy of keeping, so they simply fizzled away. everything was a blur as your feet carried you outside the city, away from… it doesn't matter. just away. carried you away. happiest time of the year. but you’re here alone, with no one you know and to call home in a world you don’t recognise. far away from the land you once knew.

panting, you stopped in your tracks when you realised you’ve started sprinting. what were you doing, you chastised yourself. can’t you act a little more mature? finally lifting your gaze, you took in your surroundings; instinctively your feet must’ve taken you to wolvendom. you kicked a stray pebble under your boot. not like that afterthought was going to help much. it’s not like anyone was waiting for you here either, razor was probably with his lupical. hunting or snoozing away.

with little care, you let out an exasperated sigh as you let yourself plop ungracefully to the ground, listless.

you sit there in silence, nothing to accompany you except for the cacophonous ringing of crickets in the forest. you drew your knees closer to you. what were you doing here? it’s cold. you hear thistle crack, and so you defensively draw your sword as you rose to your feet, only to be met with a familiar mop of fluffy silver hair.

« it’s night. dangerous here. »

was his curt greeting. you lowered your sword, shoulders relaxing.

you opened your mouth, ready to apologise, make up some sort of excuse, let him know you’re leaving, when something else caught your eye: « you kept the scarf? »

he blinked. once, twice: « you gave it to me. he said, very matter-of-factly. you are my lupical. it is… treasure… razor paused, correcting himself. treasured, possession. »

having realised that the intruder was not dangerous, the wolf boy came closer and gently pressed his forehead against yours and nuzzled your face. a small laugh escaped you as you returned the affectionate gesture, something you’ve learned was his customary greeting. it was cold out, but his touch was enough to bring feeling back to your cold self and make you warm and fuzzy inside.

still resting your head on his, you asked, timidly: « is it ok if i stay here for a bit? » it came out as a whisper, unsure if you’re any better staying here rather than back in the city. but as he nodded in agreement, your shoulders loosened as you let go of tension you weren’t aware you were building up again. you slumped into him, burying your face into him and held him in a loose hug. razor, as for him, let himself be snuggled to your heart’s content, happy to receive such fondness.

« today is special day, isn’t it? » his blood-red eyes peered inquisitively back at you, arms wrapping around you as he tries to remain as close to you as physically possible.

« mhm. » you mumbled non-commitally into his shoulder, opting to pull yourself closer to him and nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

« not go celebrate in city? » razor asked, perplexed. he thought that you said this was a big celebration to be had around other people? despite his bemusement, he rested his chin on the top of your head. it makes him all warm and soft inside, the thought of you choosing to spend this special day with him of all people. it makes him happy. he hopes you’re happy too. the wold boy gives you a once-over and his brows creased in slight worry: you’re really quiet today. why?

« uh-uh. » you grunted, shaking your head against his shoulder, your hair brushing against his clothes. the chunky scarf you gave him, the one you were convinced he was going to throw out due to its garish colours, tickled your exposed skin. he kept it. you smiled, touched. he kept it. it still smelled faintly of fabric softener, but marked by the smell of pine trees and something sweet, something you associated with brewing thunderstorms. you’ve always found rain and thunder to be comforting.

being with razor comforts you.

he wasn’t much of a talker. you both knew this. silence is ok though. he’s happy to be with you. but razor wonders why you’re so quiet today. concern flashes through his mind and he turns your gaze upwards, making you face him. you can’t possibly imagine what pathetic expression you were pulling and you quickly try to cover your despondence—but it was a fruitless venture.

« you smell sad. he watched you, a worried look on his face. »

you scrambled for some explanation, reassuring him that it’s nothing. that you’re not being a downer. that you’re happy. but he’s decided: « wait here. »

knowing that there was no restraining him once he’s made up his mind, especially when it’s something to do with the ones he considered close to him, you reluctantly let razor peel you off of him. as you watch him scurry away, you find yourself dearly missing his warmth, the comfort and safety of his arms. was staying here a good idea? you wrapped your arms around yourself. maybe you should leave. you’re ruining the mood. you’re disturbing wolvendom’s peace. before you could finish that line of thought, the wolf boy returned, this time carrying a handful of… something with him.

they threatened to tumble out of his grasp, but ultimately stayed put as he returned to his original position and held them out into your general direction, showcasing whatever he had procured. in his hands were multiple plants which bore small scarlet berries and oval, evergreen leaves. a plant you immediately recognised.

« i remember… purple mentor say ‘mistletoe’ a big part of weihnachten. »

you looked at the plant in slight bewilderment, not quite sure what to make of this offering. it was cute.

« oh. »

he blinked, clueless, before looking at the mistletoes in his hand with confusion, coming to the realisation that no, he didn’t actually know why it’s so important. it’s not edible. maybe because it’s pretty? the city has many red lights and white lights. some mistletoes are red and others are white?

he continues to stare at the berry, as if it would cave in and reveal its secrets to him if he sustained his efforts. taking his prolonged silence as his answer (though you had expected for him to not actually know—knowing lisa, she would’ve just offhandedly mentioned them. and when razor would’ve asked her about what they meant, she’d just smile without answering him), you filled him in, your voice filled with mirth: « people usually kiss underneath mistletoes. »

he turned his gaze back to you before voicing the conclusion he had come to: « this mean, i have to kiss you? »

you chuckled. « only if you want to. »

he looks at the plant, giving it a long hard look, then back at you.

it wasn’t much, it wasn’t spectacular. hell, it was more of a ghost of a kiss than anything. but you still smiled as his lips brushed on yours. a peck, which lasted too long yet not long enough. awkward, but endearing. your textbook first kiss, including the warm fluttery feeling of butterflies that so often preached about, if only a little more clumsy.

it’s cute.

he’s so genuine, earnest, in his endeavours. it makes your heart soar. he’s sweet. you don’t deserve this kindness but he gives them away without a second thought.

you don’t deserve to be happy during christmas, especially not when your sibling was still out there, alone and potentially afraid. maybe, no, it definitely is selfish for you to enjoy this day. pretend like everything is alright just for this one moment. that you’re not some traveler stuck in a strange and unknown world, that you’re not desperately trying to find your sibling and a way out. act carefree, and get to be you. but goddammit does he make you so so happy that your heart clenches and that you can’t help but smile from ear to ear. you deserve to be miserable today; you feel like shit, really. but you’re also really happy, and glad, and relieved, and maybe a little tired.

it’s all too much, and you feel so much at once that you just don’t know how to handle this anymore. overwhelmed. you smiled and laughed giddily as the waterworks started (despite your best efforts), and you’re a mess, and definitely a bit sleepy, but you’re stupidly happy today. stupidly happy because of him.

this alarmed the boy, watching you laugh between hiccups, sobbing despite wearing a large smile. for humans, tears are sad. smiles are happy. were you ok? he’s confused. did he do something wrong?

« why crying? » he fretted, slightly panicked. he jumped to fuss over you, wipe away your tears, gently cradling your face with a gentleness that you would’ve never thought he was capable of when you first met.

you laughed as you wiped your face. « these are happy tears. » you try to explain.

he’s your home. your lupical. someone you’re at rest with, and safe with. you love him.

your words get caught in your throat, unable to express everything you want to tell him. so instead, you engulf him in a hug. something he was caught off guard from, stiffening, but quickly relaxed and embraced you back. still a little unsure, he comforts and reassures you the only way he knows how: patting your head. when he’s down head pats makes him feel better. he hopes you’ll feel better.

« thank you. » you said softly, shakily, sniffling. thank you for being here. thank you for being you.

you’re not as alone as you thought, you never really were. together, in your own small corner of the world. your home: razor.

as you cuddled together, passing the time by naming and pointing at the celestial canvas above you, you realised: maybe this year, as unfortunate as it had been, didn’t have to end on a bad note. at some point, razor had shared his ridiculously large scarf with you, wrapping it around the both of you. and slowly, your words slowed, your breaths evened out. you pressed more of your weight against him as you felt your eyes droop. you’re safe. you’re with razor. you’ll fall asleep, and when you wake up he’ll be there. as drowsiness takes you over, you think to yourself ‘yeah, i’m happy.’

you’re happy here. in this one time, one place, with razor, you’re happy.

and you hope that wherever they are, your sibling is happy too. and that they’ll forgive you for being selfish, for being happy despite everything.

you hoped that your mirror image had someone to spend christmas with.

somewhere—someone they felt at rest with.

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thesameasbe4 · 4 years ago

Text

Tangled Up in Tuscany

Sebastian Stan showing all of us that he’s really just a normal guy with a nice jaw line.

It wasn’t my first time in Tuscany, but the last time had been over ten years ago on a high school trip. I wasn’t expecting it to be quite the same experience this time, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. I stepped into the grand entrance of the hotel, doing my best not to look too out of place amidst the fine room and well dressed people. I had not traveled with the rest of the wedding party out of Atlanta, unlike the rest of them, I had a real job and couldn’t just take off three weeks for a luxurious wedding, so I was the last to arrive by about five days. And in that time I had been bombarded by the photos and messages on the bridal party group text of all the extravagant things they had been doing. Touring old churches, wine tasting, eating at the most elegant restaurants. While I was a tad jealous, I also got the impression that doing these things in the company of the other bridesmaids would perhaps detract from the overall experience. So it was what it was.

The door man walked me to the front desk where I shyly greeted the shrewd desk clerk. “Hi, I should have a reservation under LeBlanc.” I spelled it and his rather illustrious eyebrows lifted. “Tu parle francaise?” The man asked.

I smiled a little and shook my head, “Non, je ne parle pas francais, je parle l’anglais.”

“But it is a French name yes?” He pressed, and I responded in the affirmative. Seeming in better spirits he motioned to a man standing to my left in some kind of negotiation with another clerk. “It seems you two are here for the same event, do you know each other?”

I looked again at the man, he had dark brown hair and a five o’clock shadow covering his strong jaw line. He fit in here, dressed in his well cut European suit and perfectly coiffed hair. Returning my focus to the clerk and straightening my posture, I responded, “Nope, never met him.”

“I think you stole my room,” the gentleman interjected in what I was surprised to hear was an American accent.

I raised an eyebrow in his direction, “Indeed? I have arrived just now, so I don’t know how that can be possible.”

“No look, I think Liz switched the name on the last available room,” he persisted.

“Well I guess you do know the bride then,” I said, noting his casual use of my friend’s name. I replied, “Why would she do that?”

“Look I don’t know, but Joe said there was a room waiting for me here and that was a few days ago.”

I pulled out my phone, planning on giving the bride and groom a call to get this sorted out when the big white numbers on the screen reminded me that it was 3 AM. Sighing, I looked at the clerk, “Are there any more vacant rooms?”

“No madame,” he responded, his voice pinched again like when I first arrived, “that was how we first developed this misunderstanding.”

“I guess that makes sense.” I looked again at the gentleman, “Can you prove you know Liz and Joe?” He reached in to his inside jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He swiped around till he found what he wanted and handed it to me.

“That was two years ago in Prague, we worked a movie together.” My eye swept the screen, finally making out the face of the man that stood before me in a cluster of several other people dressed in period clothing. “Also, Joe is allergic to shellfish, which he learned while in Hawaii only after eating an entire shrimp and pineapple pizza.” I laughed, anyone who knew Joe had heard that story.

“Well, you can bunk in my room tonight if you are desperate, then we can get this all settled at a decent hour tomorrow.” I wiggled my room card at him.

“I don’t wan’t to impose,” he said, suddenly looking concerned.

“Look, you already have. All I want is a hot shower and a few hours of sleep, and this compromise is now the quickest way to getting that.”

Maintaining eye contact with me he worried his lower lip, “okay, I guess.”

So we made our way to the elevator. “And I do really appreciate it,” he said as the elevator started going up, “I hope I wasn’t too rude, I just always have really bad luck in Italy.”

“Well let’s hope this trip breaks the cycle, cause I don’t know that I will get another shot at a Tuscany vacation.” I said stepping out of the elevator and into the hallway, locating our door by the small pile of bags that were waiting for us.

I handed him the key as I gathered my things. “Um, I think we made a very American mistake,” came a voice from inside the room.”

“Huh?” I said confusedly, groaning as I came to stand next to him. The room only had one bed.

…

A string of profanity ambled out of my mouth as I stripped in the bathroom. I had insisted that I didn’t need to be put up in such a nice hotel, especially if Liz was paying for me, but no, she wanted me to be with the rest of the wedding party, she wanted me to get along with her fancy Hollywood friends. So here I was in a swanky ass hotel with a strange man that I had, in my fatigue and delirium, decided to trust.

After several minutes of letting the hot water loosen my back and shoulders I climbed out of the shower and slipped into a pair of leggings and a tank top. “It’s all yours,” I said as I traipsed past the much too small bed on which the stranger was lounging.

“Hey, whats your name?” He asked and I stopped, realizing I hadn’t even thought to ask him his God damned name.

“Michelle,” I said, holding my hand out to him. He grasped it firmly and shook.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Sebastian.”

I fell into a fitful rest quickly after laying down and I didn’t wake up till the sun began to enter the room through the gorgeous doors that let out onto the little balcony. I took a deep breath, finally taking in the fact that I was in Tuscany, for a glamorous wedding, and I didn’t have to pay for any of it. Then I flexed my arms, realizing too late that what I had thought was a pillow last night was actually the hulking form of a man. Shit what did he say his name was? Sebastian. I pulled my arm away from him quickly but the damage was done.

“Morning,” he groaned, sitting up. I replied with a wave of my hand, too embarrassed to speak, hiding my head back in the sheets. I felt the mattress move as he slid off the edge and bustled around the room and then let himself out. Now that the coast was clear I sat up and rubbed my eyes, forcing myself to wake up. I pulled my hair up into a quick bun then looked around me for my phone. I had sent Liz a string of panicked texts last night about the room situation that she hadn’t replied to till this morning.

Sorry about the confusion. No, Sebastian isn’t a serial killer. Welcome to Tuscany! Meet us in the lobby at 10.

I glanced at the time. It was barely seven. I cursed jet lag as I marched into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I heard the door open while I was in the bathroom and stuck my head out.

Sebastian had returned with a porter, who placed a matching pair of brown leather suitcases in the closet (I guess all of Sebastian’s luggage hadn’t made it here last night) and then returned wheeling in a cart full of food. My nose perked at the smell of coffee and I hoped he was planning on sharing.

“So Liz finally confirmed that you aren’t a serial killer,” I said, leaning against a wall.

He smiled at me, “Oh, good. Well I just spoke to Joe, he told me the same about you.” I nodded, smiling now. “I got a little worried last night when you had me in a death grip,” he said, winking at me.

I cleared my throat and looked at the ceiling, “yea I’m a hard sleeper, I cannot account for the actions of my subconscious.” My gaze drifted to the cart with the heavenly smells of coffee wafting from it.

“Compliments of the bride and groom, for the mix up, I think we got in the way of some kind of argument they were having,” Sebastian said, handing me a white mug with cappuccino foam peaking over the brim.

…

It was two days before the wedding and I was beginning to think I should have delayed even longer. Liz had sent me instructions for both Seb and I to “dress casual” for the day which would be mostly wandering town. What I forgot was that casual meant something very different to a common working woman like myself than to the other rich Hollywood people I had to deal with on this trip. After greeting my friend finally and listening to her reassure me that I was not under dressed in my plain dark wash jeans and chunky sweater, I skulked to the back of the group taking in the dozen or so perfectly sculpted bodies adorned with designer heels, leisure jackets and other decidedly not casual ensembles. I had not seen my roommate come down to the lobby but as we headed out I noticed that he was wearing a very modest ensemble of black jeans, polished shoes and a blue denim jacket over a plain green shirt. I tipped my hat to him silently, either he was a normal like me or he was down to earth, either way I was glad to have gotten stuck with him rather than any of the others.

In the town of Sienna I lagged back, finding the group too noisy and attention grabbing. One of the tall skinny women in our party turned and waved at me, beckoning me closer. I took a few long strides to catch up with them.

“Your Liz’s friend that came in last night right?” She asked.

“Yep,” I replied.

“OMG, so your sharing a room with Sebastian then!”

Raising my eyebrows I replied again, “yep.”

“Well, whats he like?”

“Um, I don’t really know, I slept most of the time we were together, I assume he did too,” I offered in a confused tone. Who was this guy?

“But isn’t he so hot?” The woman asked.

“Well I was mostly concerned that he was a murderer when I first met him, I mean, he wasn’t happy and then I wasn’t actually sure he actually was with the wedding party.”

“But you knew who he was, so what did it matter if he was in the wedding party?”

Utterly confused I said, “Wait, who is he? Why should I know him?”

The woman giggled, “Sebastian Stan? He’s an actor in the Avengers franchise? He’s got a huge fan base and is notoriously private.

Okay so I didn’t really know much about those films but I was intrigued now and despite my greatest efforts to pay him no more mind than I had been, I noticed him more the rest of the day. Many of the women in our group would find reasons to stand next to him, they would grab his arm and laugh, or touch his chest. Interestingly, as the afternoon slipped into evening, he seemed to grow visibly agitated with all of the attention. By dinner time he looked like he was barely holding his polite facade together.

We were scheduled to all eat together at a very nice restaurant, however there was some conversation amongst Liz and Joe and our guides and they made a last minute call to eat separately. I was confused by this, the whole trip having felt micro managed up to this point, but I was glad to get away from the group that I felt so apart from and I took off rather than wait around for an explanation. There was a lovely outdoor patio bar down the street from where we were staying, so I leisurely walked that way.

The air was comfortably cool and I tilted my head back to breathe in the smells of the sleepy town as I sipped my wine. This was the kind of night I would have loved to enjoy with Lizzy, but that was before the days when she was famous.

“You must be American,” a voice behind me said. I turned to see two young Italian men standing behind me. As if that was an invitation to join me, they moved to sit in the vacant chairs on either side of me. “So what are you doing in our town?” One of them asked me in a thick accent and placed a hand on my knee, I shivered at how freely he touched me. I crossed my legs, shrugging his hand off of me. They both looked at ease and there were other people around us so it seemed generally safe, but I didn’t feel like doing this tonight. I slid my chair back, stood and walked to the far side of the bar, out of their line of vision. If they followed me I knew I would just have to leave so I steadied myself for that possibility.

It seemed at first like they had lost interest, but about ten minutes later I heard their laughter moving in my direction. But before I decided how to react I felt a warm hand settle on my lower back. “Hey, don’t freak out, It’s just me.” I looked up at the voice speaking into my ear and saw the grey blue eyes of my roommate. “There are two guys that have been staring at you from across the room, I wanted to make sure you knew that.” I nodded at him in thanks. But the men’s voices drew closer still so I turned to face Sebastian.

“Flirt with me,” I said to him.

“What?”

“They have already been bothering me,” I replied trying to keep my eyes on Sebastian and not give the men any reason to come closer. He nodded and moved closer to me so that we were sharing the same space. He kept his hand on my back and the other one combed through my hair. He touched his forehead to mine and laughed. After a second he drew away just enough to look up, scanning the bar for the two men.

I’m gonna kiss you okay?” He said. I gulped and nodded, after I had agreed, he drew my face up to his and very gently touched his lips to mine, leaving them there for a few seconds then breaking away from me. “They’re leaving,” he said and I sighed, though I honestly wasn’t sure if it was in relief or in reaction to the kiss.

…

I sat against the headboard of the bed, my hair drying from the shower and I flipped through the Italian television channels, trying to ignore how strangely domestic it felt to be sharing a hotel room with this person. A man who was apparently a very well known movie star who had recently helped me out of a sticky situation by kissing me. I held a cup of tea in my hands. I was bringing it to my lips when Sebastian emerged from the bathroom a napkin of a towel wrapped around his waist. My hands trembled just enough at the sight of his sculpted torso to spill hot tea all over my lap.

“Fuck,” I said as I stood, pulling the now damp fabric of my leggings away from my skin.

“You okay?” He asked, looking up from rummaging in his bag.

“I’m fine,” I shot back at him, “just put some goddamn pants on,” I muttered. He laughed and I squeezed my eyes shut, “I guess he had heard that,” I thought to myself. He straightened with a wad of clothes triumphantly held aloft then retreated to the bathroom again to change.

“By the way,” I said when he finally came back out, “thanks for the assist there in the bar.”

He winked at me, “Well I’m sure you’d do the same for me,” he said.

“But I haven’t,” I replied, “I have been watching women throw themselves at you all day and I did nothing to save you, “so really, what you did was an unselfish act.”

He walked to his side of the mattress that never felt so small and threw himself down, making the whole frame shake. “Yea, well none of them looked as hostile as those two men.” He shifted so that he was laying on his back distractedly watching the Italian soap opera that I had found. Soon he was breathing steadily with just a very light snore. I smiled and looked down at him. He really was very nice looking. He had well defined features, long eyelashes and full lips. I caught myself biting one of my own lips and rolled my eyes. Deciding that looking at him like this was creepy I switched the tv off and turned the light off, easing down into the sheets.

I was just on the verge of unconsciousness when I felt Sebastian’s arm wrap around my stomach and pull me into him. His body was relaxed but still solid. I hadn’t realized how big he was. I thought for a moment that I should release myself, that it was the right thing to do, but he wouldn’t know I was awake. Maybe I shouldn’t disturb him? He shifted again this time nuzzling his scratchy chin into the back of my neck, and if I wasn’t mistaken, his lips were pressed up against the back of my ear. Now throughly enjoying his contact I relaxed into him, laying my arm on top of his.

…

Sebastian’s alarm went off at seven the next morning, the day before the ceremony being filled with activities. I groaned at the shrill sound and was startled to realize my voice was muffled by something I was laying on. I moved my head around, trying to get my bearings without opening my eyes yet. It couldn’t be a pillow, it smelled too good and was too solid.

“Morning,” the thing under me said. I stiffened. Apparently I had managed to fully lay the length of my body on top of Sebastian in the course of the night. He was still on his back and his hands were resting on my bottom, my head was nestled into the crook of his neck and my hands were splayed over his chest. Instead of being embarrassed, I found that I really was just comfortable.

“Do we really have to get up?” I whined into his chest.

I felt his rumbling laugh, “Well I don’t really wanna face the wrath of Lizzy if we don’t show up on time,” he said.

“I thought you were my protector?” I said. He patted my bottom a few times and tried to shift me off of him but I wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll bring you up a cappuccino if you let me get up,” he said. With one more groan fit for the stage I let him roll out from under me. He stood over me for a second and I looked up at him with a mock hurt look on my face. And then before I had time to think, he leaned over me, one hand on either side of me and gently brought his lips to mine.

It was brief but lovely.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered in my ear before turning and leaving the room.

Now fully awake I wandered about the room, unsure of what to do with myself. I pulled out of my suitcase the outfit I was planning on wearing today. The “rehearsal dinner” was more of a rehearsal excursion to the countryside complete with a quartet to play classical Italian music and a wait staff serving Prosecco all day. Lizzy had said to wear “cocktail casual” but I had no idea what the hell that meant. I had settled on a dark burgundy romper. The neckline was a low v and the straps criss-crossed in the back. I laid it out on the bed and was still assessing it when Sebastian returned, a tray of coffee in his hands. Intoxicated by the smell I lifted one of the steaming cups off of the tray and retreated to the small balcony. The morning was cool and the view overlooked the mediterranean rooftops of the little town. I breathed deeply the crisp air and the fragrant coffee.

Sensing his presence behind me I spoke up, “I never would have imagined that visiting a place this beautiful would be such a headache.”

He came to stand next to me. Leaning forward so that his arms rested on the edge of the balcony, the entire side of his body made contact with mine. The heat radiating from him was soothing.

“It is beautiful here,” he said, looking at me, not the view. “Why is this trip so hard for you?”

I sighed, “I guess it’s not. I’m just being dramatic. I knew Liz way before she was famous. She and I had always talked about coming to Italy, about hiking and living close to nature. And this- this trip just shows how we have changed, thats all,” I said giving up. “And I hate all of her new friends.”

Sebastian laughed, “Well I’m gland that I’m Joe’s friend then.” I turned my head to look at him and he winked. Then he straightened up and pulled me into him, “is this okay?” He asked into my ear. I nodded silently, my stomach churning. “Well I think all her friends are jealous of you,” he continued to whisper in my ear, “know why?” I shook my head smiling a little as his words tickled my ear, “because they all want the natural grace and beauty that you have.”

I moved to face him, his large muscled body trapping me against the balcony rail. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair. He lowered his mouth to my neck as he pulled me closer to him. “Do you promise to come save me today if all those women don’t leave me alone?” He asked into my neck.

I squirmed at the sensation of his breath on me. “Of course Boo,” I said, patting his bottom in a playfully condescending voice.

He raised an eyebrow, “I think I like being your Boo,” he said moving from my neck to my lips, biting my lower lip playfully.

“Yea?” I replied.

“Mmmh,” was all he said.

“Then as my Boo would you please explain to me what the hell ‘cocktail casual’ means?”

…

After a bit of debate, Sebastian had convinced me that my choice of attire was perfect and he just so happened to have a shirt that matched my outfit, so we arrived in the lobby in plenty of time to meet the rest of the group. Unsurprisingly, I did stand out, most of the women wearing very short dresses and tottering on stilettos, however, when I considered that the alternative was having to wear a short skirt and heels all day, I decided I was happy with my ensemble.

We were ushered into a small bus that would drive us out into the countryside. The inside was nice, but Italians have a very different sense of space than Americans, as demonstrated by the very small seats. Because I had dressed for comfort, I was better able to maneuver my way to the back seat, so I found myself wedged into the very back corner of the van seated next to one of the men in the party who was a talent manager or something and wouldn’t shut up about all the famous people he worked with.

On top of that Sebastian was two rows in front of me, surrounded by needy looking women who were sitting too close to him and thrusting their scantily covered chests towards him.

Finally the bus stopped at a sprawling villa on the side of a mountain. I was antsy to get out both because of the view and because I was quite nauseous after all of the switchbacks we took to get up here.

The day was average, there were some speeches, a few games, lunch, and then drinks. During all of this I had noticed several footpaths that led into the surrounding countryside. As the group broke up into social clusters I slipped away, making a b-line towards a path that I was hoping would take me along the crest of the mountain to reveal more lovely views.

“Wait Michelle!” A voice called from behind me. I turned to see Sebastian scampering behind me, his jacket discarded and a few buttons undone on his shirt. Catching up to me he stopped, “may I join you?”

We followed the overgrown trail for several minutes, finally the brush gave way to a beautiful bald overlooking a valley that reflected gold and red in the low afternoon sun. I turned to Sebastian and found him looking at me. “What?” I asked.

“I want to kiss you,” he said simply. So I closed the gap between us and my lips met his hungrily. We pressed against each other desperately like we couldn’t get close enough to each other. Our breathing grew heavy and I got the sense that we were both wearing too many clothes, so with all my strength I pulled away from him. He let out a little whine and showed me his puppy dog eyes.

“I think we need to cool off a bit,” I said shakily. “If I take this thing off now then it’s not going back on,” I said gesturing to my romper. Sebastian nodded in defeat and took my hand as we walked back to the group.

…

As the afternoon turned to evening other guests of the the bride and groom arrived and the sweetness of the afternoon faded as my world went on repeat. I watched one woman after another try her luck with the dashing Sebastian Stan while I kept to myself, drinking alone. I wasn’t upset at Sebastian, I wasn’t really sure what to do with our short dalliance, was it just born out of convenience? Is it just something to pass the time on this miserable trip? No, what bothered me was watching the entitlement in the way these women acted. They knew they were beautiful or young or well connected and so they approached with confidence, but had very little to contribute to the conversation, literally “what you see is what you get.”

“Ah,” came a voice from over my shoulder, “you are the friend from Louisiana right? The one who Lizzy grew up with?” I turned to see a nice looking young man in a dark suit standing behind me.

“Who’s asking?” I said.

“Hi, I’m Dan, I’m a friend of Lizzy from LA.” He held out his hand, I took it, and in stepping closer I also noticed the alcohol on his breath and the slight waver in his voice. It had been a while since he was sober.

“Nice to meet you, Dan,” I said. He leaned into me slightly, as if he couldn’t keep his feet under him.

“Hey, do you wanna dance? Lizzy said you are a good da-dancer?” He said, hiccuping.

“Maybe in a bit, big guy,” I said, motioning to a waiter for a bottle of water.

“No, you look like you are here for- for a good time. Lets take this back to- back to my place.” He was too drunk to be intimidating but he was quite tall and I found it difficult to shift his weight away from me. Indeed he was very close to toppling over and taking me with him when suddenly his weight was no longer draped over me. Getting my bearings I looked behind me to see Sebastian helping, if a little roughly, to get Dan into a chair.

I didn’t think much of it, but I was surprised Sebastian had gotten to me so quickly. When some other guys came over to take care of the very sloppy and probably soon to be puking Dan, I turned my attention to Seb. He had moved to stand next to me and wound his arm around my waist protectively. “Thanks for the assist,” I said lightly. To my surprise, Sebastian didn’t think it was funny.

“Why don’t those kind of guys ever know when to stop?” He growled, his hand still firmly at my waist.

I turned to face him. “Hey, I appreciate the Feminist outrage, but I was okay, I didn’t feel intimidated by him like the guys in the bar yesterday.” I put a hand on his chest, waiting for him to slow his breathing. Finally he looked down at me.

“I think I was just jealous of your attention,” he said sheepishly.

“Well why the hell didn’t you come over here sooner, I’ve had to watch women fawn over you all evening,” I said with a little pout.

“But I thought you were gonna come save me.”

“I don’t compete with other women!” I said in a whispered yell, turning my back to him. I avoided him, embarrassed and feeling a little too tender after such a long day. Gently he twisted me back to face him. I didn’t resist, I did want to be with him here, but I couldn’t look him in the eye. Carefully, and slowly he tilted my head up till I held his gaze, then he brushed his lips against mine, holding them there just long enough for chills to run down my body and my breathing to quicken before pulling away. I moaned in frustration.

“You aren’t competing with anyone.” With that taste of drama that actors tend to have naturally, he pulled me into the light, closer to the music, and we danced. It was sensuous and romantic. We stayed close together, his nose buried in the side of my neck, my head laying on his chest as we moved in a slow circle. His hands would stray low sometimes, but I would pull them back up so they rested on my hips, and he would chuckle each time.

As the event wrapped up, we walked back to the vehicles together. And as if we had passed some invisible test, everyone left us alone, letting us sit together and talking around us.

Back at the hotel I paused to chat with Liz while Sebastian helped Joe out with something for the ceremony the next day. “OMG, I knew you two would be good together!” Liz gushed.

“Wait, did you do the room thing on purpose?” I asked.

She looked up at the ceiling, “I will not reveal my tricks, but just know that if you two are still together in a year I am so claiming that I set you up.” I rolled my eyes.

I made my way back to our room but was stopped by one of the pretty blonde women in the wedding party. “You are Lizzie’s friend from back home right?” She asked in a valley girl accent I thought had to be a joke. Thinking she had some scheme about the wedding tomorrow, I told her that, yes, I was her childhood friend. “Then what the hell do you think you are doing flirting with someone like Sebastian Stan?” She demanded, serious outrage in her face. I was startled, not expecting this little outburst.

I looked her over again, her makeup was looking a little fuzzy and I could smell vodka on her breath as she teetered on stilettos and pulled her dress down each time it slipped a little too high up her thighs. Before I could respond she continued, “I mean, look at you. You are at least a size ten, no make up, you are wearing flats for Christ sakes.” She gasped like it was the end of the world. “You have no idea the women who are interested in him. Models, actresses, I heard one of the Kardashians even made a pass at him. This is the big leagues little girl. You need to stay in your lane.” In parting she gave me a little push that I thought was more likely to have her on the floor than me.

I laughed uncomfortably as I made it back to the room. Sebastian was there, sprawled on the bed, his torso bare, a pair of navy joggers seated low on his waist. He looked like a snack. And all of a sudden I could only hear the words of that woman. I must have stood there too long cause Seb spoke up. “What did Liz do? Did she change something at the last minute? You look really distracted.”

“Oh,” I said, “Nothing, she didn’t change anything.” I turned away from him and reached behind my back to undo the top of my romper. Sebastian’s hands grasped mine and put them to my sides as he undid the ties, his fingers lingering on my skin. “Sebastian is this just for tonight?” I asked, biting my lip after the words left my mouth.

“Uh, I guess it can be, why?” He replied, his tone measured. I continued to stand with my back to him, needing the space to say this.

“I- I just don’t know how this would work with you being so mobile. I don’t want you to feel like this has to go beyond this trip.” I cut myself off, feeling like I was whining.

“Actually, I am kinda interested in making this work for a longer time. Where are you from? Louisiana? The long distance thing might be a challenge but I’d like to give it a go.” I gulped loudly, my arms and legs felt weak.

“Are- are you sure?” I pressed, feeling like I was in a dream.

“Have I overstepped?” He responded with a concerned look on his face. I shook my head fiercely.

“No, but why me? All those women who are prettier than me, they get the world you come from, you have so many options.”

I had moved away from him now, feeling exposed as I spoke, but he closed the gap between us. Pulling me into him, he gripped me tightly, protectively.

“I don’t want anyone else. You are intelligent, confident, beautiful. No one else has those things.”

I sank into him and felt a sob escape from my lips. A hand grasped the back of my head and pulled me in tight to his chest. I shook a bit with a few more sobs but he was there with me. When I had calmed down I reached up and kissed him on the jaw.

Stepping away from me, he pulled a shirt on and I made a disappointed noise. Laughing he said, “Why don’t you change into something more comfortable, and we can go to the bar and make people jealous.” Rolling my eyes, I smiled.

…

As we approached the bar Sebastian grasped my hand and intertwined our fingers. There was a small group from the wedding party that was gathered at one end of the bar. One of the guys called us over so we joined them, greeting everyone in the group. There was one available seat so I took it, Sebastian stood behind me and his hands lingered on my waist and hips. They were meeting to discuss a few last minute requests of the bride and groom, so I listened as attentively as I could with Sebastian’s warm breath tickling the back of my neck. The skinny woman who had trapped me in the hall earlier was staring daggers into us, but I just looked past her to the conversation happening.

After a few more minutes the conversation broke up. I noticed a few men pat Seb on the back as they left, our friend the skinny woman tottered off in a huff. I felt Sebastian shake a little as he chuckled. “That was more fun than I was expecting,” he said.

“Yea whatever, can we pleas go back to the room? It’s time for you to take your shirt off again.”

…

When we got to the room we both stripped to our underwear. We tumbled into the bed together, the playfulness of moments before leaving us quickly as we both let the exhaustion of the day settle in. Instead, we nestled into each other comfortable just to be with one another. I was laying on my back, Seb’s head resting on my chest. He clung to me, arms and legs wrapped tightly around me and thats when I realized we might actually have as shot.

…

It had been a month since the wedding. I sat nervously in the airport gripping my phone and my eyes glued to the arrivals screen above me. Finally I saw the word “arrived” appear in green next to his flight and soon after my phone pinged and it was a text from him saying he was on his way to baggage claim.

And then there he was.

In a tight t-shirt and joggers, his long legs brought him to me in a few quick strides. I brought him in close to me and squeezed him tight. “It’s been too long,” he said.

#sebastian sebastian stan sebastianstan fanfic imagine bucky

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dragontamer-nia-2 · 4 years ago

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Olivier [Beyblade theories on crack]

Welcome to my random rants about random beyblade things. I have a lot of things to say about the Euro Team and how tragically underestimated and undervalued they are, as characters, but also as very smart plot devices, so in these posts I'm gonna pick a fight with the writers and yell at clouds while probably drunk. If you want a trip, and you think you don't like the Euro team, then jump on.

This guy.

I love this guy.

This guy is great and I swear to god they knew what they were doing when they decided when and how to introduce him.

So, from the encounter at the top of the Eiffel Tower in ep 33 we know that this guy is mysterious and that he blades; he randomly starts roasting the Bladebreakers unprovoked, which is always fun, but fucks off before anything interesting can happen. What the writers decided to do in the next episode was split up the team, and have them find out more about Olivier separately: since everywhere they go they meet someone that has at least heard of him, we can't help but feel that this guy is kind of a big deal. From Max we learn that he's bloody rich, from Rei we learn that he's a great cook, from them both (when two guys conveniently share the information right in front of them… anime logic) we learn that he's the best blader in France, and from Takao and Kyouju we learn that he likes art, and… prepare your tinfoil hats, guys, because we're going deep.

The thing is, we know this guy is manipulative, and we know it because he offers Takao lunch in his own super expensive restaurant to distract him from the fact that he just ruined hundreds of people's day. Kyouju even points out that something's wrong when he sees Takao go into the Louvre absolutely furious at Olivier, and then sees them come out like buddies. We also know it because… come on guys, have you seen his face? Have you seen his evil smirk? He's a walking troll face. It's like the animators want us to not trust him. And yet, every background character seemingly adores him, even though we don't really get a specific reason why.

I mean… this is a kids show, I know. And the writing is messy most of the times. But this guy. This guy is shady as fuck. You can take him at face value and assume he's a well-meaning asshole, completely oblivious to normal interpersonal relationships, living in rich people's world where he can just do whatever the fuck he wants. Or. He could be one bad day away from being a chaotic-evil type of supervillain, because it's almost like he's doing everything he possibly can to lure and provoke Takao into battle while holding the façade of smiles and politeness. And the funny thing is that Takao doesn't even notice his intimidation attempts (while Kyouju falls for them at every step)

But, exactly, how manipulative is he? And, more importantly, is he even aware of it? Let's assume the worst about him for a second, that everything he did and said had the purpose to push buttons and provoke a reaction. Then just in episode 34 we have the following:

- He reserves the whole Louvre knowing that the Bladebreakers were going around famous tourists attractions

- He immediately interrupts Takao and makes him waste time on honorifics before letting him speak

- He invites Takao and Kyouju, two guys clearly not dressed for the occasion and who probably don't know proper etiquette, to his high class, really expensive restaurant, serves them delicious food he cooked himself, and even implies that he could kick everyone else out if he wanted to

- He namedrops that one guy from Team Who, in a conversation that really wasn't going in that direction, and then uses the bait to imply that he's much stronger than those guys, knowing fully well that Takao was having a hard time the previous day against them

- He basically corners Takao into battling in the middle of a fucking public park, knowing that there are a lot of people around and everyone wants to see the French champion battle

Now. The thing is, I can't prove he's the Machiavellian mastermind I suspect him to be, and the only way this whole thing works is that, in this episode, Olivier somehow got Takao and Kyouju alone and the rest of the team (Kai in particular) is not there to call Olivier out on his bullshit.

On the Eiffel Tower, at the very end of ep 33, Olivier did mention, among other things, that he has unresolved business with Team Who, and it's Kai that questions him to get more information. And what does Olivier do? He immediately cuts him off with "none of your business" and basically flees. We even get a reaction shot of Kai. Afterwards, Kai goes around trying to find out more information about Olivier on his own, and spies on the battle unseen. What's going on here? Well, Kai is not like his teammates, he's not naive, he knows what manipulation looks like and I think Olivier realizes it. That's why Olivier doesn't even try to play dumb with him like he does with basically everyone else, and that's why Kai circumvents the problem by playing bully with random kids instead of trying to confront him directly.

And I know all of this may be "chemicals are making the frogs gay" level tinfoil, but come on, just look at Olivier's reaction when Takao barges into the Louvre and somehow finds him. What does he looks like he's thinking?

At the end, it doesn't really matter, because Olivier doesn't win like he expects. Granted, at this point he can't lose - because the arc has just begun and Takao needs to work harder, and because Olivier already shit-talked Team Who in two different occasions while the writers want them to be a legit threat for the Bladebreakers. But Olivier can't win either, because we're already at the end of episode 34, we have three teams to juggle, and Takao can't keep losing and having to fight against the same people the whole arc. So they tie… and Olivier is shook. He miscalculated. For some reason this guy, this clueless, impulsive idiot, didn't lose immediately and neatly like he expected. And since Olivier does have honor, and respects people stronger than him, he immediately changes his tone, shuts down the peasants that don't understand these kind of things, and he starts treating Takao like an actual person (kinda).

Option A) Oh, what's this guy doing here while the Louvre should be closed?

Option B) How lucky, I caught him alone

One thing that stands out, though, is that he is the one member of the Euro Team who never loses. They had reasons to make his fight with Takao a tie, but why did they make him tie with Rei? Although I do have my own little theory about this, I noticed that he's the only member of the Euro Team that actually has other things going on in his life other than beyblade. The guy is rich, he is very interested in art, he works as a chef and wins culinary competitions. The fact that he's probably a bored psychopath is balanced by the fact that he seems to have his personal life together, he doesn't put his whole worth into spinning tops clashing against each other, and he has the self-confidence to admit when he was wrong. Which is… more than we say about the other European guys.

So, I'm thinking, because this is called Beyblade theories on crack after all, and there's too much reasonable stuff in this post so far… maybe the writers wanted to use the Euro Team to make a point about not winning, and being ok with it, and they really couldn't make it with the Bladebreakers because they are the protagonists. They can't lose - not permanently. Olivier doesn't win, twice, and… he's shook that he miscalculated, he seems to be honestly confused, his whole drive is not winning, but understand what's going on. That's why he sends the Bladebreakers to Giancarlo, that's why he convinces him to bring them to Ralf, he does want to study Takao, and… is he using the rest of the Euro Team as guinea pigs? Or did he notice something that's missing in them, and subconsciously wants to fix it?

Here's my hot take, and the conclusion to this dumb post. Olivier is not aware of his own machinations. He's a natural manipulator and he has a talent to read people or get info out of them, and he mainly does this by playing dumb and wait until people scream at him who they are and what they want. He reads the Euro Team, he reads the Bladebreakers, and realizes one thing: they could help each other. He baits Takao with the prospect of more beybattles and then follows him to see what happens. If it's chaos, good, if it's some life lesson, better. He manages to get Giancarlo on board and the both of them, combined with Takao, eventually get to Ralf. But what Olivier doesn't realize is that the very thing that he is subconsciously asking Giancarlo, Johnny, and Ralf to fix, is their inability to lean on other people, their skeptical and wary natures, their need to be perfect, without weaknesses, in the eyes of the world; and if Olivier was aware of his own machinations he would have realized sooner that, all this time, all he wanted was to have friends. And if I’m right about anything about this, then the writers will have done a good job with at least one member of the Euro Team, because it’s not only a fucking genius way to introduce the arc, the team, and the theme, but he’s also a damn good character.

I love this guy.

#beyblade #bakuten shoot beyblade #olivier boulanger #euro team #beyblade theories on crack #but wait #there's more #I'm just waltzing into the fandom with posts no one asked for #but I'm rewatching beyblade 2001 and it's a blast #also sorry if I made mistakes #english is not my first language #and i'm drunk and tired

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sleeplessandstubborn · 4 years ago

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Emily in Paris or why I stopped caring about the protagonist and I started rooting for the French. Episode 1.

Let’s be clear. I was planning to root for the French anyway. They are in the neighbouring country, I quite like them and I was prepared to confront and make fun about all the stereotypes in this series. Because this was exactly what I expected. Funny, lighthearted and totally braindead (wink wink) escapism in an instagrammed to the top Paris which has the same resemblance with the real one than Vincent Minelli’s... But without Gene Kelly. So what did I think of the first episode?

Meet Emily Cooper from Chicago. She’s young, she is dynamic, she struggles to be liked by everyone and at the beginning of the series. She is a marketing executive about to be promoted or so she thinks.

... Because her boss Madeline (played by Kate Walsh) is going to Paris in order to take work with Savoir, a luxury firm the company (sorry I forgot its name) has just adquired. Madeline is overjoyed because working for a year in Paris is one of her dreams and because French men like mature women, as probed by the fact that their young and hot (sic, but this blog agrees) president married his high school teacher. We’ll never know which plans Madeline had for Frenchmen, whether they are young or hot or not. The case is after two minutes in the series she vomits, which means she’s pregnant and she can’t go anywhere because it’s an truth universally aknowledged that pregnant women can’t go on with their plans.

It’s in the next scene when we meet Emily’s boyfriend, Doug, and when we learn she’s going to Paris in Madeline’s place, in spite of being unprepared and not knowing the language. At this point one wonders how it’s possible that no one else in the company can replace Madeline. All of them are monolingual? Our plucky heroine is not discouraged by the litle fact of knowing virtually nothing about the country in which she’s going to live during the next twelve months. She and Doug - the moment you see the scene you know it wont’ go well - agree on a long distance relationship.

And after a very well done transition, we have crossed the ocean. Yes, this is well done, and I say it unironically. Episodes are short, your show is called Emily in Paris, so, what’s better than having your main lady already in the French capital in less than five minutes. The series goes to the point in this aspect and it’s a good thing to spare us of unnecesary scenes.

So Emily arrives to her apartment with pretty views, confused about in which floor she’s supposed to live (running gag ahead) and already hit on by a French guy on a suit that looks like the love child of Gabriel Attal and Albert Rivera (check it, seriously). I couldn’t take him seriously not only because of that but also because he said that Emily’s appartment was a chambre de bonne. Not by any means. Look, I’ve never lived in Paris but I know that apartment is huge when compared with a real chambre de bonne.

Off to know her working place, Emily has this HUGE smile pasted on her face. I don’t know if this supposed to make her charming and likeable. For me - it’s true than I have this European perspective - she looks a mix between an anxious puppy and a psychopath. I would be scared and would avoid her at all costs. The cultural clash is about to happen.

Yeah, I would look at her too, Julien a.k.a. token black character. You have probably heard about the lack of diversity in this series, I won’t abound in that, others have worded it better. It also an established fact that French people smokes at their workplace, even if in the European Union we have these things called smoking bans that won’t allow it.

And enter Sylvie, Emily’s Parisian boss and supposed main antagonist, à la Devil wears Prada. What to say about Sylvie other than I adore her? Her clothes, her style, her sarcasm. As any rational being would do, Sylvie is pretty dismayed to learn that Emily does not have the slightest idea of French and its already wanting to impose her American perspective and her alleged knowledge of social media. The problem is I don’t know if her posts on Instagram really deserve that much attention. Clash ensues with the rest of her new coworkers. C’est la cata! they comment. I quite agree.

Our fish-out-of-water takes an evening afterwork stroll (this Paris is like one square kilometer and public transport is something you mention but never appears) and calls her boyfriend to state the entire city looks like Ratatouille, which legitimately made me laugh. I am not sure if this reference means that Emily’s filmic culture is that limited or if it’s her boyfriend the one who only knows a movie which takes place in Paris and that’s one is Ratatouille. We know that Emily at least has seen Moulin Rouge and that makes two so probably is Doug’s fault.

Back at home, and since she has forgotten how to count, Emily attempts to open the wrong door. Immediately a wild Frenchman appears; it’s Gabriel, played by Lucas Bravo probably one of these young hot men Madeline would target. He takes the intrusion reasonably well. Especially when it’s discovered that Emily only knows his region, Normandy, from Saving Private Ryan. That makes three films, so definitely I think Doug is the problem here as far as filmic culture goes.

Next day Emily picks a yellow outfit and goes to work, purchasing a pain au chocolat in her way to work. I confess I was underwhelmed when discovered that there wouldn’t be any joke about the Great Civil War that has been going on in France since its earliest days: the partidaries of pain au chocolat vs. the ones of chocolatine. A ferocious, merciless conflict unknown by most nations. A lost opportunity not making this woman someone from the South who bravely defies Parisian conventions calling it chocolatine. I’m team pain au chocolat btw. Naturally when she discovers the wonderful world of flavours she makes another Instagram post. She’s earning more and more followers, Heavens know why.

However, she has a Big Problem with Doing Research. Example given, she doesn’t know her schedule - a problem which could have been solved with reading numbers - and arrives two hours early to her workplace.

Once there she discovers she can’t sit with the cool kids. No one wants to lunch with her, so she decides to miserably sit by herself at the park, where we met her best new friend. Her name’s Mindy, she’s from Shangai and she’s working as au pair, while teaching Mandarin to the two blond children she’s looking after. We’ll later discover more about her. She instantly detects the American in Emily and offers her help to this awkward but at the same time arrogant newcomer.

Meanwhile at Savoir, Emily has earned a sobriquet. La Plouc, which is adopted by Sylvie and most of her coworkers even if Luc seems more or less reluctant to say it. La Plouc means the hick, as she instantly discovers thanks to an online translator. It’s really not a good day for our heroine, and she cames back home - remember that thing about this Paris being one square kilometer? - walking. Co-worker and someone who for some resason reminds me to the posh-y version of Philippe Poutou - check it - Luc passes by as she sits lonely by herself and apologizes for calling her la Plouc earlier. He also claims she’s arrogant for coming to Paris without speaking or even understanding French - which is true - and tells her people is probably scared as her new, modern ideas. Which makes no sense at all and it’s probably a white lie.

Meanwhile and for some reason her totally inocuous posts in Instagram makes her earn more and more followers. During the night, her oblivious to timezones boyfriend call her and they have - or attempt to have - a totally awkward and unsexy session of cybersex. At the end Emily is so frustrated that she tries to use her electric vibrator which leads to the short-circuit of the entire building. Fortunately before she has the oportunity of getting closer to the device in question. And that’s how Episode 1 ends.

What did I think? It’s fun and pretty to look at. Even prettier to rant about. As long as your brain remains carefully shut off in the meantime and you don’t take it that seriously you are going to enjoy it I guess. At least it’s my case.

Still frustrated for not covering the Great Civil War tho.

#emily in paris

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brideofcthulhu10 · 5 years ago

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Okie doke so I have a lot of asks piled up but I’m gonna need to take my time with them. So in the meantime I’m gonna give you guys a few of my own personal writings while i weed through my writers block. I hope you can understand, I have fourteen prompts to get to but I am a little muddied on getting through each one.

David Headcanons

Italian food used to be his favorite when he was alive. Santa Carla was flooded with immigrants from all over, especially a high concentration of Europeans so he had experienced real Italian cuisine from the few family owned joints that would come and go. When he was turned he tried to defy his vampire roots after learning that garlic didn’t hurt him- only to find out it didn’t hurt him EXTERNALLY. The tragic tango of pasta primavera in his stomach had him sick as a dog for days! Since he’s opted for other cuisines, but secretly he misses when he could freely ingest copious amounts of garlic

Outside of rock, David really loves classical music. Particularly foreign opera. Why? Because it is some of the most intense sounds you will ever hear. The melancholic arias of tortured souls left on the brink of tragedy soothe his untamed internal rage. However, he often doesn’t get to because as soon as he does Paul pitches a fit.

“Aw whaaat? Classical? Who invited the old lady to the party?! “

“Will you shut up and let me listen to my music, asshole?”

“Ooooh excuse me! Yes of course, Lord Snooty von Dickweed. Would you care for your pet poodle and a plate of caviar? Hey! Maybe we can find your balls, dude”

Of course he could just kick him out but it’s far too much of a hassle. He’s genuinely pleased, albeit subtly so, when he managed to snatch up a walkman off a victim so he can listen to his music in peace.

We’ve seen him smoke, but no one really gathers just what a chimney this guy is. David smokes practically every hour, when one burns out he just snags another. Any reason is a good reason to pull out a cigarette. Stressed? Smoke. Hungry? Smoke. Tired? Smoke. Happy? Smoke. But worst of all are his nicotine withdrawals. Seriously, do not approach him when he’s run out of cigarettes. It doesn’t matter who you are. Last time Paul tried to tease him while he was waiting for nightfall, David nearly threw him out into the sun. Withdrawal is far worse as a vampire than it was for him as a human. His restless legs get far more jittery, his back can cramp, it’ll give him an agonizing headache, and his hunger is somehow amplified.

Surprisingly, he can’t stand the 1931 film of Dracula with Bela Lugosi. Not that Lugosi doesn’t do a good job. In fact, it’s far too good. While not appearing visually the same as Vlad Dracul, the bastard who just so happened to be responsible for turning him and his friends back in 1906, his personality is extremely close. Just watching him slink in the shadows, waltzing about in that chilling Hungarian-Romanian accent boils David’s undead blood. If he’s going on the Universal monsters, he prefers Boris Karloff in Frankenstein.

Over the years David has picked up Russian and French. When you’ve been unchanged in an abandoned wreckage of a hotel for over eighty-one years, you learn to pick up a few things. Currently he’s learning German which he finds rather easy so far although he finds himself speaking a tad choppy at times. Sometimes he’ll use the wrong language and end up asking Paul to bring him the wine bottle of blood in Russian. Needless to say he was utterly confused and had to be retold in English.

Despite what one might assume, David does not enjoy having sex with multiple partners. Not polyamory, just sex in general. He finds that hollow humping up against some seasoned tart behind a bar before bidding adieu does nothing for him. If there’s no intense intimacy there’s less really keeping him invested. Now love isn’t exactly what is required, but there has to be some sort of connection to give him the desire to pursue a lover. Quality over quantity. Getting to know his partner is an exciting endeavor that allows him to take control, dominating him or her until they are utterly helpless to his will. A quick fuck is nothing but a way to kill time, which frankly he can find so many more productive things to do when he’s bored that require much more brain power and a lot less sticking himself in something, sorry, someone that he honestly doesn’t know where they’ve been.

Halloween, of course, is his favorite time of year. However he also has a soft spot for Christmas. Frankly the whole peace on Earth and goodwill towards men crap makes him sick simply because no one had ever given a crap about him, but the entire feeling of it all did give him a sense of calm. The lights are a stunning sight for sure, and he'd even have a few less shitty humans mistaking him for one of the teen runaways living on the Santa Carla streets. Well, he wasn't , but he wasn't about to tell that to some sweet old lady handing out rusty tins of fresh brownies. Who the hell could waste brownies? Not him. His favorite memory goes back to 1904 when he and the boys managed to scrape up enough dough between pick pocketing gigs to share a room at a decent hotel. The managers wife even brought them up the leftovers from their own Christmas dinner, half a roast bird, a plate of rolls, a fat bowl of mashed potatoes and some gravy. They of course were grateful, and Paul couldn't help but flirt just to kiss ass. Dwayne got Paul a new knife, Marko got David this pretty swanky looking cigarette case he snatched off some rich dick who mistook him for a shoe shiner, David found some old iron ring they couldn't sell and gave it to Dwayne, and Paul got a few bottles of rum for them to get Yuletide hammered. Sure it didn’t sound like much of a big deal, but sitting on a real bed for once by a fireplace slamming back booze and roast chicken while whooping Marko’s ass in black jack was the first time in a long time he had genuinely laughed. Since then its been particularly blase, but Marko and Paul will often make a tradition out of a few bottles of booze, throwing some cheap decorations around the hotel, and they all spend the night playing card games over some take out roast chicken and a few quick sides.

#lost boys 1987 #lost boys imagine #the lost boys #lost boys fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #lost boys #fanfic #80s movies #lost boys david #lost boys head canon #headcanon #fandom #fanfiction author

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erzherzog-von-edelstein · 4 years ago

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Imperial Ambitions

Characters: Holy Roman Empire, Austria, Northern Italy, France, Prussia

Ships: Holy Roman Empire/Northern Italy

Summary: At the height of the Napoleonic wars, Holy Rome faces the prospect of battle and trying to protect his own position.

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The news of Napoleon’s provocations came on the hooves of a single rain-drenched messenger who had ridden straight from Paris to Vienna, confiscating horses along the way. He frantically explained that England and France were close to blows, and France’s new emperor seemed ready and willing to engage in war. The Holy Roman Empire listed to the news and watched the look of determination pass over his Austrian guardian’s face. He knew the thoughts that were crossing the man’s mind; they were the same ones that were on his. Wars in Europe never remained the business of two countries. Many of the squabbles about relatively little land had turned into wars involving several powers. There was no reason for this one to be any different; Austria already had reason to enter on the side of the British. His ire had been raised by French victories against him when he had intervened in the ill-conceived French revolution.

For his own part, Holy Rome was tied to whatever decision Austria made. The Hapsburg king was also the Holy Roman Emperor, and it was the empire’s duty to abide his will. But, his feelings about it also crossed into the realm of the personal. This commoner who did not even have a drop of blue blood had dared to name himself Emperor, when that title was reserved for his leader. Certainly the Russian monarch also used it, but that was a different faith and a different ambition. For reasons he could not entirely explain, Holy Rome felt like the act of crowning Napoleon emperor was a threat to him directly. He could not allow another Emperor to exist on the continent; it would undermine what little authority he possessed. It was already clear that his brothers and cousins were not likely to obey him, despite the title he had been given by his father. If he ever wanted to truly fill the role his father had left him, then he could not let this usurpation stand.

But, from the way that Austria’s eyes flashed at the news of Napoleon’s coronation, he knew that there was no need to plead his case to his guardian. As soon as he ordered the messenger to be fed and housed, Austria turned to Holy Rome. When their eyes met, it was clear that their thoughts were the same. When the Austrian walked over to him with graceful rage in every step, Holy Rome waited patiently. The first words Austria spoke seemed incredibly obvious, “This cannot continue.” The blonde simply nodded, not certain if the other even cared about his opinion. Austria continued only glancing at Holy Rome, “I have been patient with Francis thus far, but he has gone too far. If he starts a war with England, I will fight him without a second thought.”

It seemed like he was talking to himself, save the fact that he glanced at his young companion every so often. It was not unfamiliar behavior. Spain had acted much the same way when his king was emperor. These great powers with their armies and their prestige cared little for the opinion of a young man who had been thrust into their care. Holy Rome had no power to impose his will on them. If his father was still alive, he would have been deeply ashamed of his youngest son. Had he wished to object to the war, and he did not, he would have been ignored. He asked instead, “And will I go with you to France?” Austria nodded and said, “Naturally. I will need the support your name brings.”

The question of support seemed like an odd one. France had been able to win thus far, but he had just emerged from a revolution. It should not be hard to defeat him and place his new ruler back in the proper place. Holy Rome felt a sudden stabbing uncertainty in his gut. If Austria thought he might need support, what kind of war would this be? It was unusual for Austria to show any kind of hesitation or weakness. He was the true empire and Holy Rome was here to provide the title he wore like an overlarge mantle. The unease settled on him, and he was tempted to shake it off. But, Austria continued talking to him, “You should pack what you need for a campaign. We will be ready to move at a moment’s notice. I doubt Napoleon will hold off on declaring war on England.”

Holy Rome nodded. He understood that this was an order, though it was disguised as a suggestion. He did not mind though. The conversation was just an affirmation of what they both knew. War would come, and Austria would put France back in his place. Holy Rome did not even flatter himself to think that he would be a part of that victory.

Though he had taken up swords play, his skill remained remarkably poor. It made little sense; his father had been the greatest warrior in Europe and his older brother was famed for his prowess in battle. Austria had even made the passing comment after seeing him practice that he looked nothing like Prussia, who had already been a prodigy at his age. It had laid another failure on the mounting evidence that he was a disappointment to his father. He sometimes wondered if he had been forced to learn instead of doing it at his leisure, like Prussia had, he would be better.

Austria turned and walked away, indicating that he was done dictating. Holy Rome was left standing in the hall considering his own position. He would go with Austria to France and very little would change. An Austrian victory would not give him influence or real power. He had been a shadow behind other empires for so long that he had let go of the hope of reestablishing the authority his father had. But, there was a new feeling in his gut that was not abating. He sighed to himself and decided that it came from France encroaching on the titles that rightly belonged to him.

The way back to his own chambers was short. He pushed open the heavy gilded door by himself though a servant hurried to his side to do it. This coddling and pampering was slowly becoming resentful to Holy Rome. He felt like he had become indulgent and weak fed on Viennese luxury. As he walked into his own chambers, he waved away the servants who usually waited on him. Once he was alone, he glanced around at the things around him. It dawned on him that he was not even certain what should be brought on a campaign. Usually he ordered for his things to be made ready. He let out another sigh. He would do it later.

A soft voice sounded behind him, “Holy Rome?” He turned to see a familiar set of hazel eyes looking at him, His heart leaped into his throat at the sight of Italy. He tried to smile through all of his dour thoughts. But, Italy’s usually sunny face was decidedly sullen. The Italian spoke again, now that it was clear that Holy Rome was paying attention, “I overheard Austria talking about war with France. Is it true? Are you going with him?”

There was concern in her voice and it was unusual. Holy Rome felt it compound his own feeling of uncertainty. But, he did not want to worry his sensitive little friend, so he replied, “It is true. But I should not be gone long.” The other took a tentative step into the room, and seemed to hesitate before saying, “I don’t want you to go.” The short statement struck at Holy Rome’s heart. Though the Italian had said relatively little, the tone was enough. Instead of any kind of anger, he responded with confusion, “Why, Feli?”

Holy Rome took a step toward Italy, not certain if he was being too forward. He longed to take the other in his arms, but he didn’t want to scare her away. For some reason, Italy seemed to find him intimidating. Italy looked directly at him and said, “Every time you and Austria leave, I’m alone here. I don’t like it.” There was a pause before Italy continued, not giving Holy Rome the proper time to think and respond, “And when you leave I worry that you won’t come back.”

The words made Holy Rome’s heart race. He felt a slight heat in his cheeks as he blushed at the thought that Italy worried for him. He stepped even closer, so that they were close enough to suggest affection. Italy’s concern, though profoundly touching, was misplaced. If, by some miracle, they lost this war, then it would be no different than the thirty years war; Holy Rome would be diminished yet again, but he would return. It was the pattern of European wars. With each war he lost, Holy Rome’s name commanded even less respect. He said, speaking to Italy in the most soothing tone he could summon, “You don’t need to worry. I will come back.”

Italy came even closer, her hazel eyes even wider. It was so precious how emotive her face was. She was unguarded in a way that was so uncommon. All of the empires around him were guarded, and the change was always refreshing. Italy only spoke once she was close, “Promise me that you will come back. Make a promise that you can’t break.”

The earnestness warmed Holy Rome to the core. He wanted to make the promise so that Italy would not doubt his intention to return. He hoped that when he returned he would have the courage to ask for her hand in marriage. He had intended to for many years, but when he faced Italy with the idea, the words to explain that it was about his feelings and not territorial gain. Italy should not think that his affection was only a way to reconstruct the Roman empire. Holy Rome pondered how to make a promise so that it was completely sincere. Finally, he lighted upon an idea.

He pulled off one of the rings that he wore on his hand and extended it to Italy. The one he chose was very old. It was gold and red jasper with an eagle stamped into the surface of the jasper. As he placed it softly in the palm of Italy’s hand, he said, “This ring was my father’s. Your grandfather gave it to him as a sign of friendship. He gave it to me when he died.”

Holy Rome remembered when this ring had been brought to him and he had known that his father was dead. It had been the sign that he was meant to be the successor of Rome, the next empire of Europe. Italy stared at the the ring in her palm with the purest sense of wonder. Holy Rome, feeling unusually bold, folded Italy’s hand over the ring, “This ring is very special to me. Look after it until I come back. I promise I will.”

Without any warning, Italy threw both of her arms around Holy Rome. The sudden hug made an even more aggressive blush take to his cheeks. Italy said, still holding him tight, “Thank you, Max. I wish I had something to give you so you won’t forget me.” The blonde slowly returned the hug, realizing that this was acceptable; Italy would not shy away from him. He responded with the first thought that came to his mind, “I could never forget you.”

Hesitantly, Italy pulled away and said, “Is Prussia allying with Austria?” The question hit a sore nerve, though it was probably not intended. Why did everyone seem to think that Holy Rome needed his older brother to fight. Even if he felt like it was necessary for Prussia to assist in this war, he dared not ask his brother for help. Prussia thought he had did not deserve his position, and had made that abundantly clear the last time they had spoken. And by Lutheranizing, Prussia had cut off any authority that Holy Rome had over him. It still hurt to think about. Holy Rome had only ever had the most sincere of intentions towards his brother, but they had come to nothing. He had not chosen to be his father’s successor, and often thought that there must have been more happiness in his brother’s monastic life than in all of his trinkets and luxuries. There was a gulf between them that even the best of intentions could not bridge. If he had to face Prussia on campaign, then it would be nothing but discomfort. It was almost comforting to know that his brother’s grudge would keep him from intervening.

He took a deep breath before replying to Italy’s innocent question. The anger had to subside before could respond. He said, “No. We won’t need his help.” Italy nodded and looked Rome bit his lower lip, contemplating whether this was a gesture of disappointment. But, Italy looked back at him and wordlessly pressed their lips together. The blonde was caught completely off-gaurd, so he made an undignified squeak. But the feeling was sweet, and he pulled Italy closer. It was a short kiss, but it was all that Holy Rome wanted in the moment. When Italy pulled away, she said, “Remember me by that and come back.” Holy Rome smiled to himself and nodded. _______________________________________________________________________________________

The war came much as Austria predicted it would: France’s aggression quickly brought both Austria and England into the fray, followed by the Russian emperor, who had pledged his support to the allied effort to dislodge France. Russia had even arrived himself with his emperor. This war was becoming far larger than it should, and Holy Rome thought every night of the promise he had made to Italy. He had said he would be back soon, but that now looked very unlikely. Vienna had been captured, and Austria seemed deeply shaken by the loss. His capital was currently occupied, but he had not dared to strike back until he had Russian reinforcement. It was strange to Holy Rome to see Austria in this state.

Usually the title of Holy Roman Emperor fell to the most powerful monarch in Europe, and Austria’s emperors had been exactly that for many years. But Napoleon’s voracity and skill seemed completely unmatched. Though it was largely hidden from Holy Rome, he knew the desperation that was growing. He had even overheard Russia and Austria talking about the necessity of recruiting another ally, if one could be found. Prussia’s name had been mentioned. Holy Rome took it as a sign of how badly the war was going. But, Austria had assured him that the tide would shift.

They were currently camped at Austerlitz, waiting for an opportunity to strike. This was the moment, Austria had assured him, that they would have victory again Napoleon and drive the French pretender out of Vienna.

Holy Rome was practicing his swordplay again while he waited for the battle to start. He drew his sword and tried to balance his stance with it in hand before lunging like he was attacking an enemy. It still felt unnatural, especially the heavy blade in his hand. As he made his second attack against an invisible opponent, he heard the very familiar sound of Austria clearing his throat. It was a sound of a gentleman’s impatience. Embarrassed, Holy Rome sheathed his sword and turns towards Austria, who was shaking his head.

His irritation resonated in every note of his voice as he said, “What are you doing that for? You aren’t going to be fighting anyone.” Before Holy Rome could respond and explain that he did not want to rely on others, Austria continued, “Anyway, it does not matter. France’s army is running out of provisions, and he has weakened on his right flank. I am going to attack and I’m going to drive him out.” He smiled to himself, as though he was congratulating himself on his patience. Then, he said, “I want you to stay in the center of our troops. You should be safe there. If, for some reason, our ranks break, don’t try to stand your ground. You should retreat with our troops. Do you understand?”

Internally, Holy Rome was fuming. He did not want to be treated like a liability. But, he dared not contradict the empire. He already knew that Austria would hear no dissent. Instead, he said, “I will.”

Austria nodded and walked away. Holy Rome was left alone to find a horse and ride to the center of the line. He knew what would happen from here; the battle would unfold in front of him, with no need for his intervention. From his small horse, Holy Rome could see Austria’s assault on the French flank already starting. Apparently, giving Holy Rome orders had been the last step before the assault started. His heart sank at the idea that he was an afterthought. But, seeing a battle from a distance was better than being shut away in Vienna. This had not been his father’s idea for him, but there would be other battles.

But, he felt the wind that had buffeted his back fell to an ominous quiet lull. The yellow and black banner of the Empire, which had been waiving proudly, fell against its pole. Holy Rome turned his gaze back to the French right flank, and to his horror the weak flank seemed to be growing as reinforcements joined it in anticipation of the incoming Austrian attack. Holy Rome’s breath caught in his throat. This was a trap and he could do nothing to recall Austria.

His heartbeats grew loud in his own ears. If the open flank was meant as a distraction, then what was France’s real goal? The answer came in a growing roar that turned his blood to ice in his veins. Another segment of the French army was bearing down on his own position, even as Holy Rome struggled to comprehend what was happening.

The sound of a bullet flying past his ear finally woke the blonde to the reality of the battle that had descended upon him. The only thought that came to him was that Austria had told him to retreat. Now was not the time for heroics. Holy Rome pulled the reins of his horse tight and nudged the animal to turn away from the flood of soldiers. The horse was slow to react and Holy Rome felt his heartbeat skip as the animal finally jolted forward. Only when the horse reached a gallop did Holy Rome feel a sense of security.

Then, the ground seemed to fall out from under him. Holy Rome did not comprehend the fact that he was falling until his hit the ground and the impact knocked all of the air out of his lungs. He did not push himself back up immediately. He focused for the moment on pulling in a breath. The air tasted foul. Holy Rome’s tongue was accosted by earth, blood, and gunpowder. The pain of the fall was something less tangible that faded to a blur on the edge of his awareness.

Holy Rome found the strength to push himself to his feet. Only then did he look at the carnage that lay behind him. The corpse of his horse lay behind him from where it had thrown him. The hole of the musket ball in the creature’s flank left little doubt in his mind that this had been intentional. A sinister laugh revealed the origin of the shot.

France lowered the musket that had been at his shoulder. Smoke curled from the end of the barrel. With a careless elegance, France pulled his sword and dropped the musket. Holy Rome struggled for words faced with his enemy. Nothing passed his lips but a sputtering. France spoke instead, “Were you trying to run? Gilbert never would have run. He would have faced me like a man.” Holy Rome finally managed to say, “What do you want with me?”

He could guess that this was a kidnapping to forcibly strip the title from Austria and give it legitimately to Napoleon. Holy Rome knew that he was little more than chattel to these empires. And yet, a fear, cold and concrete, was seeping into his consciousness. Though he knew it would do little good, the young man pulled his sword from its scabbard.

France let out a short derisive laugh at the sight. Instead of addressing the sword, which he treated as though it was of no consequence, France answered the question, “My emperor is planning a new European order and there is no place in it for two empires.” The words sounded strange. Surely, the two titles could be added to Napoleon’s titles if he desired them. Holy Rome would have to reside at the French court, but he would endure. France read his confusion in his face and clarified, “You will have to die, and I see no better place than here.”

With that France raised his sword. Struck numb by the words, Holy Rome mirrored the movement. If needed to fight to keep his life, he would. He had promised Italy that he would return, and he had to keep that promise. The Frenchman scoffed and, in two swift strikes, knocked the blade aside and struck Holy Rome’s hand. The blade cut deep into the flesh and he dropped his own sword.

The Frenchman lowered his own blade so that it was pointed at Holy Rome’s chest. The boy felt frozen to the spot by the realization that he could do nothing to save himself. He could run, but that would do nothing. He would not get far without France finding him again. And he would not die like a coward with a sword through his back. The other said, “Just accept this and die with dignity.”

The point of the rapier pressed into Holy Rome’s flesh and he gritted his teeth against the pain of it. It seemed ridiculous to care about this superficial pain when the sword was about the plunge into his chest. But it still hurt and Holy Rome focused on not whimpering. France’s eyes flashed as he pressed the sword the rest of the way through. Curiously, the pain was less once it passed through the skin. Holy Rome could taste blood on his tongue as it welled up from his pierced lung. The feeling in his fingertips was fading, and he could feel his knees weakening as blood poured from the wound and stained his shirt.

France removed the blade. Without the solid piece of metal holding him up, Holy Rome fell to his knees and then fell face first into the mud of the battlefield. The world was blurring as the pain faded to resignation. In his fading sense of consciousness, Holy Rome heard France say, “Goodbye, Holy Rome.”

Holy Rome could only see in one direction and in it he saw the imperial banner, torn by French musket fire, lying forgotten in the mud. So, this was what it felt like to fall. It was numb and blurry, not painful. Though this was his end, the only thought that occurred to him was that somewhere there was a girl with a Roman ring and a broken promise. ____________________________________________________________________

Holy Rome’s eyes had closed and the sounds of the battle had left. He was conscious, but the effort of keeping his eyes open was now too much. It was cold. Much colder than he ever thought he could be. Then, he felt something unexpected. Two arms on either side of him, pulling him up. He was leaning against someone’s chest, and it was warm, comfortable, and familiar. There were words, but he could not make them out. But, the voice was concerned and he felt it resonate through his chest. This was good. He was in the arms of someone safe. He let the warmth of their presence envelope him and hold him firmly to the world. ______________________________________________________________________

The boy awoke like he was rising from the depths of very deep water, leaving everything he had had before behind in the depths. When he opened his eyes, the room was not familiar, but it felt like no room would be. He let out a low groan as he registered the feeling of pain in his chest. The sound caused a figure on the other side of the room to turn towards him.

Red eyes met his own and there was a spark of recognition in the fog of his mind. This man he knew. This one was safe. He recognized the white hair and the red eyes. He spoke the word he associated this person, “Brother.” His voice sounded hoarse and strained, but the sound carried. The other’s eyes widened and a relieved smile appeared on his face.

He walked over to where the boy was lying and kneeled next to him. The younger tried to remember how he had gotten here or where the wounds came from, but the information was gone. All he knew was that the man next to him was his brother and his name was Gilbert. Trying to find some answers, he asked, “Gilbert, what happened to me?” The other’s smile fell and he responded, “Do you not remember?”

The boy shook his head and tears began to well in the corners of his eyes. There was something missing, something beyond events, faces, and names that he had lost. Gilbert responded, “Well, that doesn’t matter.” He took his younger brother’s hand in his own and said, “All you need to know is that I am your older brother and I am going to protect you from here on out.”

Still trying to get some grasp on the situation, the boy asked, “What is my name? I…” His voice failed as he tried to say that he didn’t know. His brother pulled him into a very gentle hug. He spoke, “Your name is Ludwig.” The name seemed to fit, so he accepted that this was correct. Gilbert continued to speak, “And for now, you’re going to stay here and heal. I am going to deal with France. And one day, you’re going to be the German empire, just like our father wanted.”

#hws holy roman empire #hws italy #hws prussia #hws austria

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toomanyfamdom · 5 years ago

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Many Shades of Green

I have to say some thank yous before I post this.

Thank you to @jane-fucking-seymour , @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts , @millie1536 and @bessie-bass-on-the-bass for being inspirations to me. Without them I wouldn’t have thought of starting to write. They never got mad if I sent them random messages and goodness knows what time for them and have kindly corrected me when necessary. So thank you.

But the person I owe the most to is @the-quiet-winds . I’ve talked most closely with them and they are an incredible writer and the first person to encourage me to basically get myself together and write something for goodness sake. They’ve been incredibly kind, never minding the annoying messages I send them and giving me her permission to write my own interpretations of her stories some co-written with @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts . So for this, I thank you.

This is my first publicized work and I’m open to constructive criticism. This is based on the personal head cannon I mentioned about Anne Boleyn so I decided I would just write about it instead. Please be patient with me. This may seem a little unrealistic but bear with please.

Also, does anyone want a tag list?

Tw: none that I can think of

Word count: 1318

***

All was calm in the queens household.

Which was weird, especially because the ladies-in-waiting were over for the evening for their monthly get together.

It wasn’t the only time the ladies were in the house, they only lived two doors down the road but it was the only scheduled, constant gathering.

They were all gathered in the living room, watching a movie, eating - or in some cases throwing - popcorn when one of the phones began to ring. Catherine, being the closest got to it first.

“Hello?” she answered, face brightening as the other person spoke, “Sasha! Give me one second, I’ll put you on speaker.” Sasha was their manager so if she phoned the house, it was something for everyone.

“Hello?” Sasha’s voice came through the speaker.

“Hiya love, you have all of us here,” Jane told the woman.

“Great, makes my life easier,” they all laughed, “I have some very exciting news for you all.”

“Don’t leave us hanging babes, tell us,” Anna laughed.

“You’ve been invited for a European tour.”

Silence. Then all hell broke loose.

“Are we really going on tour?”

“It would be so nice to go back home.”

“That I agree with, Bess.”

“I’d love to back to France.”

“Same but with Spain.”

“I’d love to go where you grew up Catherine.”

“How cool, we get to travel and still perform. Awesome!”

“Agreed, Kat.”

“That’s a lot of new rigs to learn.”

“You’ll be fine Joey.”

“Where are we going, Sasha?” Jane was the only person with something sensible to say.

“You’ll be starting in Portugal and working your way through Spain, France, Italy, Germany, the Netherlands and ending in Sweden.”

“That’s so many places,” Kat was in awe.

“So many different languages,” Cathy noted.

“We’ll have to see about getting interpreters,” Sasha added.

“Well you have Anna, Catherine, Anne, Maggie and I who can speak German, Spanish and French respectively,” Cathy said, “And Bessie-”

“I can speak Italian,” the bassist confirmed.

“Right,” she nodded, “so it’s just Portuguese, Dutch and Swedish we’ll need help with.”

“I’ll look into interpreters but no promises,” Sasha’s voice was uncertain.

“I’ll learn them.”

Every head turned to the queen who had just spoken.

“Are you sure, Anne? That’s a lot of work,” Maria questioned her friend.

“Well I’m already learning other languages and from what I’ve heard Portugese and Spanish are kind of similar and German, Dutch and Swedish come from the same family of languages so I wouldn’t mind. If it gives us some piece of mind,” Anne scratched her neck and giggle slightly, “I’ve been looking for some new languages to learn anyway so this just made my search so much easier.”

Only if you’re sure sister,“ Maggie looked concerned.

"I’m sure,” the woman in question affirmed, pulling her sister into her arms, “I promise if it gets too much, I’ll stop. Is that okay with everyone?”

Various affirmations were made and Sasha said, “Thank you Anne, that’s one less thing to worry about. Just letting you know, your opening date is in six months. Bye.”

“Thank you Sasha, bye,” Catherine hung up the phone, “well then, let’s get back to our movie, shall we?

***

Four months later and the ladies-in-waiting were over again. Maria, Joan, Jane and Catherine were all in the kitchen making the dinner together, Anna, Kat and Bessie were playing an intense game of Mario Kart and Anne, Maggie and Cathy were in Anne’s room.

"This is incredible,” said Cathy from where she was sitting on the floor by Anne’s desk with the queens many notebooks sat surrounding her, all in different colours and languages ranging from English to German to Swedish, “How many languages did you say?”

“Nine,” Anne said, looking up from where she was lying upside down off the edge of her bed reading some Greek poetry, dangerously close to kicking Maggie in the face from where she was drawing in a random sketch book she found, “and I’m working on a tenth, although it’s a little harder, see that dark blue one behind you? I’m not fluent, that would be impossible in four months but I’ll be able to help in most situations.”

“That’s amazing,” Cathy smiled at her, “now, come help me put these away.”

Anne closed her book and set it gently on the floor putting her hands down and kicking herself off the bed and over onto her feet. She took the books from a laughing Cathy and went round the other side of the divider she had put in her room and came back around to the girls, flopping at Cathy and Maggie’s feet, back to her original position.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself one of these days,” Maggie didn’t even look up from her drawing.

“I know,” Anne winked at Cathy to have the pair laugh at her despairingly.

“You’ll have to teach me some of those languages when we get time,” Cathy said, “Its so nice to see this other side of you and I’m so happy you feel comfortable enough to show me this side.”

Anne sat up, “You two are my nearest and dearest, how could I not be comfortable around you?”

The trio smilled at each other and all of their phones buzzed.

“Did you two get this as well?” asked Maggie.

“From Sasha,” Cathy had already read the message and was looking at it with wide eyes.

“Is it bad or?” Anne’s phone was out of reach.

“The tour’s been cancelled,” Maggie told her.

Anne bolted up straight. “What?! What do you mean?” she asked increadiusly.

“Exactly what she said.”

“What on…” Anne trailed off then jumped off the bed and running downstairs, “Familly meeting in the kitchen!”

Anna jumped when she heard Anne’s shout. The German looked over at her two companions.

“If Anne’s calling a family meeting,” started Kat.

“Something is definitely wrong,” Bessie finished.

“Better not keep the hurricane waiting,” the three went to the kitchen, meeting Maggie and Cathy in the hall and were met with a pacing Anne Boleyn.

“Perfect, we’re all here now,” Anne said, “Have a seat.” She gestured towards the table.

“Anne, what’s wrong?” Jane asked as softly as she could.

“Nothing’s wrong per say, just changes, I don’t like sudden changes so yeah,” Anne muttered to her self. She stopped took a deep breath then said, “Check your phones.”

They all did - except for Maggie and Cathy who tried to calm Anne down a bit. “I have a message from Sasha,” said Kit a bit confused, “why is she messaging me?”

“I have one too,” said Maria

“I think we all do,” Jane said in a grim voice, reading the message.

“Is it bad?” Joan looked over to her former mistress, scared to read it.

Anne took a deep breath, “The tour’s been cancelled.”

“What?!” Katherine almost jumped out of her seat, “But why? All the prep was going so well and we were getting venues just fine.”

“Says here that our sponsor backed out,” Anna said, “If that’s true, there’s no way the tour could be funded babes.”

“You did all that learning for nothing,” Catherine realised the root of Anne’s distress.

Anne visibly deflated, leaning against the counter top, head in her hand. “Its not even that. Well, it is that a little but,” she sighed, “You may not know or remember this from our past lives but I thoroughly enjoy learning. Languages especially, they’re challenging. But I also love learning with a reason. I probably would’ve learnt the languages anyways but the tour gave me a reason. It gave me constancy. And that’s been torn from underneath my feet.”

Suddenly there was a Kitty sized person embracing Anne. “I think its really cool how much you’ve managed to learn Annie. Nine foreign languages? That’s incredible!”

“Well, now I have an excuse to keep learning yeah? Look on the bright side!” Anne returned her cousin’s hug, “Thanks sister.”

#im actually so nervous about this #hope you like it #six the musical fanfic #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #anna of cleves #jane seymour #katherine howard #catherine parr #maggie on the guitar #joan on the keys #bessie on the bass #maria on the drums

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prxncechai · 5 years ago

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&&. announcing his royal highness, ( Prajadhipok Chulalongkorn), the ( 28 ) year old ( prince ) of ( Thailand ). he is often confused with ( Tay Tawan ). some say that he is ( proud and judgemental ), but he is actually ( upright and daring ). ( Prajadhipok ) is arranged to marry ( Arielle ).

Here is my new baby !! Please love him.

Basics

Nobody actually calls him Prajadhipok. The Thai have their own culture about names. Basically his birth name is only used in administrative documents and rarely in conversations. My boy goes by his nickname given at birth which is CHAY (meaning victory, so it’s pretty cool). Although it’d be funny to see all foreigners try to pronounce Prajadhipok. Tbh I’m still searching how it is pronounced myself.

I will make a pretty family edit eventually but for now all you have to know is that he is the spare. He is second born son to King Mongkut IX and princess royal consort Koi. He has an older sister, the crown princess Praew and two younger twin siblings Yui and Duan. Princess Praew is 32 years old and a doctor. Chai admires her greatly. The twins are 23 years old and undergoing military training.

The military is an important part of the Thai nation. So of course he served in the Royal Thai Armed Forces. It was not even a choice ( Thailand has a compulsory military service anyway). He served for a period of ten years. He was in the Royal Thai Navy. He was appointed Admiral of the Fleet and is Commander of the Southern Gulf of Thailand Fleet. Although the role is half honorific, a lot of decisions are actually taken by the deputy commander who is a senior admiral with lot of experience.

He enrolled at the Royal Thai Navy Academy. He was fortunate enough to be able to participate in international programs at the prestigious National War College in Washington and the Ecole de guerre in Paris.

Perks of being a prince, he occasionally did classes abroad on international law/affairs and conflicts resolution (without truly qualifying for them but what is a little nepotism). He spent a summer in the Netherlands at The Hague Academy of International Law and a summer in Geneva at the Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies.

Now that his active military service and training is over, his father is seeking to arrange a marriage for him. The King wants to try to slowly open his country to foreign alliances. Monaco is a perfect choice. They do not pose a threat and don’t risk to have too much influence. King Mongkut IX is pleased that Arielle negotiated the betrothal herself and hopes that she will be an asset to his family.

Chai is less thrilled about the whole engagement thing but he will do his duty. He was simply hoping to have some time to enjoy life between the end of active military service and having to wed someone he doesn’t love.

The Chakri dynasty have a sense of superiority and pride because they managed to keep their throne in the middle of the French and British colonisation era (I am not sure how much of that happened in this alternate reality. If it didn’t happen i’ll work something else). They lost some territories but remained independent. They like to constantly remind everyone of that. In that sense Chai is very proud and can even be arrogant sometimes. He is patriotic and that was strengthened while he served.

The Chakri pride was only reinforced by most royals seeking refuge in their country. Chai will not be afraid to remind the foreigners that they are merely guests if they need a reality check.

Speaking of the pack of royals in Phuket, he is not enthusiastic about that turn of events. There are too many people, too much scheming and his patience is growing thin. He kind of wants his country back even if it is good for Thailand to be at the centre of the power scene.

He is a football fanatic. It would have been the path that he would have chosen to follow, had he not been a prince. He plays centre forward (main attacking player). He religiously follows Europeans’ championships (Ligue 1, Bundesliga, Premier League, Primera Liga, Calcio Serie A). He occasionally plays during charity games or event games.

He bets on football games and can also be caught gambling a couple of times a year. It’s something he keeps private but he does enjoy the thrill of gambling.

He is very competitive.

Chai is fluent in Thai, Chinese (Mandarin) and English. He can hold basic conversations in French, Khmer and Malay.

He is a Buddhist. It’s the official religion of Thailand.

Suffice to say my boy can sail. He’s an ocean lover. Beach vibes. He can also be seen chilling on yachts (and even at times partying).

He has a big don’t mess with me attitude. He is a partisan of the “do no harm but take no shit” policy.

His honesty and uprightness can be a disadvantage in politics. He hates scheming and intrigues. In that way he is not a good servant of the Thai Kingdom.

He is opinionated and won’t be afraid to voice his thoughts. Those can sometimes be quite daring or extreme. Consequently, he understands his father reforms and wish to constantly improve Thailand.

In terms of personal life, he has few real friends and even fewer exes. He did not mingle with most of the royals growing up, apart from special occasions. He is not a fan of red carpet events and all the fuss. Military service also left little time to socialise.

He only had a serious girlfriend who was also in the navy and a young first love in the Thai court.

He mainly stays in Bangkok. He has recently moved to Phuket after his engagement to Arielle. Before that he would come once or so a month

Wanted connections

He could have had past meetings with European characters when he was in Paris, Geneva or the Hague. Same with American characters since he spent some time in Washington

Fellow football lovers (soccer lovers for the Americans among us)

Perhaps someone who has caught his eyes in Phuket

TRAGIC ROMANCE

Someone he can not stand

Asian buddies ?

A rare old friend (or two)

A new friend

Perhaps someone who has a crush on him

Someone he admires

Sort of a mentor

#hshqintro #please forgive any typo or mistakes #my brain is fried and it's 11pm #i just wanted to post that before bed so i can start plotting with people tomorrow for the plot weekend

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choicesfansstuff · 6 years ago

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The Promise

Note: Hello, everyone. I got the idea for this Kamilah x MC story some time after the latest BloodBound chapter was released. This takes place immediately after the events of the said chapter. Also regarding the Order of the Dawn,I assumed, for the purpose of this story, that they possess high-tech weapons specifically designed to take down vampires. The assumption is based on the information Adrian shared.

Anyway, this story is rather lengthy. Lol. I hope that you guys will like it! :)

P.S: Also, please forgive the title. I couldn’t think of anything else. Haha.

Amy’s POV

The Knights of the Order of the Dawn march through the entrance of Serafine's nightclub. As they fill the room, streams of flaming arrows fly across the room, immediately setting dozens of vampires on fire.

Screams fill the air as chaos erupts among the crowd. Vampires desperately push against one another in an attempt to escape.

"Amy, get down!" Serafine yells over the screeching as she pulls down to the floor to avoid getting hit by the arrows.

"Serafine, we gotta get to Adrian and Jax!" You tell her.

But your words don't seem to have reached her. Serafine looks wide-eyed at the ground before her.

"Serafine! Wake up!"

Your loud voice seems to have broken her from her stupor. "Oui! Stay close to me!"

Serafine grabs your hand as she expertly weaves her way through the panicking crowd. You barely manage to keep up with her, but eventually, you find yourselves back in the VIP room where you find Jax and Adrian talking to a group of frightened vampires.

"Guys, the Order of the Dawn is here!" You exclaim as an explanation.

With his eyes glowing red, Jax unsheathes his sword. "Yeah. We heard."

Adrian steps forward, his face grim. "We need to get out of here."

Serafine addresses him with a disheartened look on her face. "But there are too many of them."

You see Adrian's face harden. "We have to do what we can! We've come this far, and there's too much at stake for us to give up now!"

"Adrian's right." Jax steps up beside him. "We can't stop. Not right now."

"But the Order..." Serafine mumbles. "... How did they even find my nightclub?"

You look at Serafine whose face is fraught with despair. Her eyes are unseeing - it's as if she's re-living a traumatic event.

Adrian notices her dazed state and grabs her hand to squeeze it firmly. "Serafine. Listen to me."

She turns to him with worried eyes. "You need to calm down." He tells her. "We can get through this. It's not over until it's over."

The French vampire looks at him for a moment before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she opens them, you see red irises.

"You're right. We must fight back."

You grin at her. "That's the spirit."

Adrian cracks his knuckles as his own eyes slowly turn red. "Now then, shall we greet the Order?"

"Oui. We shall."

"Let's do this!" Jax growls.

----

Despite being greatly outnumbered; you and the others were able to put up a fight. Some of the other vampires joined you in the battle - you were all able to hold your own for a while.

But the fact remains that the Order is stronger and larger in number. As the battle progressed, you all started to sustain wounds from their technologically advanced weapons. And eventually, you, Adrian, Jax, Serafine and a few other survivors are crumpled on the ground and are surrounded by the Knights.

Your struggle to keep your eyes open while you cover your bloodied temple with your left hand. You try to hold your head steady with your right one.

"We couldn't beat them." You say with a defeated sigh.

"Damn. Those weapons of theirs are really something else.” Jax grunts as he clutches his badly burned shoulder.

“They’ve certainly… upgraded… their arsenal.” Serafine wheezes as she wraps her arms around her stomach.

“We came all this way... Damn it!" Jax yells in frustration.

"At the very least, we will not die as cowards." You hear Serafine seethe as she glares at faceless masks of the Knights.

"There's not… much that we… can do." Adrian grumbles – the pain from the blast to his back making it difficult for him to speak. "It was an honor to… have fought… alongside you all."

The Knight in front of you raises his arm. "Men, ready your aims!"

Simultaneously, all of the Knights aim their weapons at you, ready to strike.

You look at the Knights, then to your friends, and then to the still-lit ceiling. "Lily... Kamilah..." you say softly, "I hope you guys can finish what we started." You then close your eyes, waiting for it to be all over...

BOOM!

Something suddenly explodes, and you hear the Knights scream. Your nostrils are immediately invaded with the smell of smoke.

When you open your eyes, you see that the room is now filled with smoke and that the Knights have been scattered across the floor. Through the entrance, a group of red-eyed vampires arrives with weapons of their own. They immediately take advantage of the confusion and engage the members of the Order in combat.

And in a flash, a familiar face is kneeling in front of you.

"You called?" Kamilah smirks at you.

You could hardly believe your eyes. "Kamilah?!"

Even though she's smirking, you can see hints of relief and worry in her eyes as she looks at you. She instantly tears off one of her long sleeves and quickly wraps it around your head to stop the bleeding.

From beside you, the others react to her sudden appearance. "Wait... What?!" You hear Jax mumble in shock.

Despite her injured condition, Serafine smiles brightly at her. "Darling! So good to see you again!"

"Kamilah! But how?!" Adrian sputters before wincing in pain.

Kamilah looks over her shoulder to call out to another vampire. "Samuel! I need help with the injured!"

"Yes, Miss Sayeed!" In a matter of seconds, more vampires approach your wounded group.

In the blink of an eye, she's carrying you in her arms. "I'll explain later." She addresses all of you. "Right now, we have to get you all to safety."

"Hey. No arguments from me." You chuckle as you rest your head against her shoulder.

You see her smile at you quickly before addressing the others. "Let's move!"

In a matter of minutes, you're inside a large van.

"Amy!" Lily calls to you from the driver's seat.

"Hey, Lil." You smile at her weakly.

"Whoa. You guys look messed up!"

"Tell me something I don't know." Jax grumbles.

As soon as all the injured have been loaded in the van, Kamilah slams the door shut. "Now's not the time for pleasantries. We have to go now!"

Lily immediately takes the wheel and starts the engine. "Got it!"

Soon, you're zooming down the roads of Paris far away from the Order.

----

Four hours later

About four hours later, you’ve stopped at the front of the side of a mountain somewhere in the woods located miles away from the main city.

“Where are we?” You ask.

Kamilah responds as she places some items in a satchel. “We’re at an old safehouse that was used by European vampires back in the early 19th century as a hiding place.”

“Safehouse?” You ask, looking at the wide expanse of hard rock through the windshield.

“It’s built inside the mountain, Amy. The entrance is hidden. How cool is that?!” Lily explains.

“Oh. I see. But won’t the Order find us here?”

“We’ll only stay here for the night. We’ll move to a more secured area come dawn. Besides, this is one of the very few hideouts that the Order has yet to find.” Kamilah says as she slings the bag over her shoulder.

Serafine leans forward. “Oui. This was one of the safest places to go when on the run.”

“This is about as good a hiding place as any.” Jax says from his seat.

Kamilah addresses her other companions. “Get Adrian, Serafine, and Jax inside and give them blood packets. They need to heal immediately.” She then turns to you. “I’ll take care of Amy myself.” She effortlessly scoops you into her arms and carries you outside.

A short while later, you're sitting on a stool as Kamilah removes the rudimentary bandage around your head. She cleans the wound before placing some anti-bacteria solution on it. She then covers it with a long strip of proper medicinal gauze.

“Thanks.” You say.

"Not a problem. Now let's go meet with the others." She offers you her hand, and you take it – letting her pull you up.

----

You meet at the center of the safehouse and settle around an old and grimy ornate table that has seen better days.

“So, Kamilah…” Adrian begins, now completely healed, “Why are you here? How did you find us?”

Kamilah folds her hands on the table. “When you left to meet Serafine, I called some of my old contacts in Europe. I know as well as anyone that the Order of the Dawn is still active and is more dangerous now than ever. I asked them to watch your movements and also to collect information about the activities of the Order so that I would know if you ever get caught in one of their raids."

Jax couldn’t contain his shock. “So, you’ve been spying on us this whole time!?”

"I wouldn't exactly call it "spying." Kamilah began. "But I suppose I was."

“Well, it’s a good thing that you were!” Serafine places her hand on Kamilah’s forearm. “You saved our lives, darling! Thank you!”

The Egyptian vampire smiles at her French friend. “Of course.”

“When did you guys arrive in Paris?” You ask.

Lily turns to you. “We got here this afternoon! Talk about getting here in the nick of time, right?” She grins.

You feel your eyes widen. “This afternoon?!”

Kamilah clears her throat, prompting everyone to look at her. “Yes, we arrived this afternoon. One of my contacts told me that the Order was planning to raid an underground nightclub owned by a vampire. And when they told me that it belonged to Serafine, I knew that there was a chance that you would all be in grave danger. So, Lily and I left for Paris immediately. We also brought along some of our strongest Clan members since we’re going to need a larger group to be able to mobilize and strategize considering the extent of the Order’s influence.”

“But what about the rest of our Clan members?” Adrian asks, worry etched on his face.

“Don’t worry. I already evacuated our Clan members from New York City and called in a favor from our werewolf friend Cal. They’re now in New Orleans. Cal’s Alpha leader agreed to grant them temporary sanctuary.”

Both Adrian and Jax breathe out sighs of relief. “Good. At least they’re out of immediate danger.” Adrian comments.

Jax nods in agreement. “Yeah. Their situation is about as good as it can get.”

You all let a brief moment pass to allow some of the tension to fade. Kamilah eventually speaks again.

“So, tell me. What exactly have you accomplished so far regarding our search for the Tomb of the First?”

----

Two hours later

You and the others quickly caught Lily and Kamilah up to speed. You told them that you already obtained the Book of Blood, which thankfully, was in Adrian’s satchel the entire time. Serafine then explained that the next step was to find the Eye of Bathory amulet, which was last known to have been possessed by vampires from Prague. Everyone agreed that Lily would help Serafine gather data about the amulet’s current whereabouts and that Serafine would look through your vampiric memories for more information once you regain your strength.

You're now in one of the old bunkers of the safe house. The room's only source of light is a single lit candle placed on the bedside table. You toss and turn in the centuries-old cotton bed, unable to fall asleep because of your racing thoughts.

Now that the adrenaline of fighting has subsided, your mind starts to wander to other things. You think about the visions that you’ve seen. Now that you’re aware of your powers as a BloodKeeper, you're able to recall better the memories that you've already witnessed. You think of the First Vampire Rheya and how she was banished to the caves where she eventually gained her powers. You then think about Gaius as a human soldier and how different he was back then. Then your thoughts go to Kamilah.

You think about how she was forcibly Turned against her will by Gaius. You then think about how, despite that fact, the two of them looked at each other so lovingly centuries after.

You immediately feel a pit of unease form in your stomach. You've always wondered what kind of relationship Kamilah shared with Gaius. You've always wanted to ask her but thought better of it considering the situation you're all in. She mentioned that she was his Queen and that she did love him before. She also said the Gaius’s return has made her feel vulnerable, but that only made you even more curious about what they had before. Apart from that and a few other tidbits of information, you have no idea about the extent of their relationship. You’ve seen a few memories, but you know there are more.

Your train of thought then leads you to examine your own relationship with Kamilah. She’s shown you tenderness and affection, but just how much does she really care? She admits that you’re the first person that she’s ever been with in a century and that fact in itself already means something. But just how much does it mean?

Your reverie is interrupted by the sound of the door creaking.

“I thought that you’d be asleep.” Kamilah says softly.

You raise your head to look at her. “Hey.”

Kamilah steps inside and closes the door gently. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

You sit up. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. What brings you here?”

She makes her way to your bed and sits beside you. “I wanted to check in on you.”

She raises her hand to gently touch your bandaged head. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel better.”

“Hmmm.” Kamilah drops her hand to her lap.

You both stay in silence for a few moments before Kamilah reaches for your hand. “I’m sorry for not arriving sooner.”

You look at her and see worry in her eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for. You did what you were able to do. What matters is that we got out okay.”

She smiles gently before leaning closer. “I’ve missed you, Amy.”

When she leans in to kiss you, you immediately jerk back.

Kamilah looks at you in quiet surprise. "What's wrong?"

You stare at her confused face, wondering how you should express what you’ve been thinking about earlier. “…I--…I—” you start to grasp for the right words.

You eventually sigh in defeat before getting up from the bed.

“Amy? What’s wrong?” Concern starts to lace her voice as she watches you slowly pace around the small area of the bunker.

You finally stop in front of the wall and exhale. “I want to know.”

“Know what?” Kamilah asks from behind you.

You swallow before answering. “About you and Gaius.” You let a few seconds pass before you turn around to face her. You see that her face is frozen in shock – her brown eyes are widened, and her mouth is slightly agape.

It takes her a moment to shake herself out of her stupor. “You… what?!” For once, she seems to be at a loss for words. “…Amy, you already know that I was his Queen. But that’s all in the past now.” She offers as an explanation.

You shake your head. “No, Kamilah. I want to know the full extent of your relationship with him.”

Your response seems to have shocked her even further. “Why? Why do you want to know?”

You press your lips into a hard line. "Because I saw memories of you and Gaius…" you begin, watching Kamilah's reaction. "I know that you tried to kill him before he Turned you without your consent." At this line, Kamilah's eyes widened even further. "I also know that centuries afterward, the two of you seemed so happy together."

You eventually pause as you try to collect your turbulent thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m c-confused.” You feel tears starting to prick the corners of your eyes. “I know that you went through a lot as a vampire. I saw some of your memories, but I still don’t have all the answers. You went through so much together with him. And the fact that I’m confused m-makes me feel a-afraid.” Your voice is now trembling.

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid that you might still feel something for him!” At this point, the tears have started to flow freely. "Don't get me wrong, Kamilah. I know that you won't turn on us. But I can't help but feel scared.

“I don’t exactly know what we have between us, Kamilah. But… you mean a lot to me. I know that we’ve only known each other for barely a year, but after everything that we’ve been through, I feel connected to you. And… the idea of you still having feelings for him… it breaks my heart.”

You let your tears trail down your cheeks as you continue to sob softly. Kamilah could only stare at you in shock. Your confession seems to have shaken her.

She remains immobile for what seems like an eternity. But then she closes her eyes before taking a deep breath.

"Amy." The quiet and firm way Kamilah says your name instantly silences you.

She quietly moves from the bed and steps towards you. When you look into her eyes, you see raw vulnerability. Kamilah tentatively lifts a hand. She hovers it over the side of your face, and when you show no signs of jerking away, she places it on your cheek. She begins to gently stroke your tear-stained skin with her thumb.

"I know that you have a lot of questions to ask." Her voice is soft. "I know that you want clarifications. And you should get the answers. I’m sorry that you feel this way…

“But now is not the time for such a conversation. Too much is at stake, and there is too little time."

You feel an ache in your chest. "But Kamilah ----" you start to protest.

She silences you once again, this time by placing a finger from her free hand against your lips. "Ssshhh." She lets the finger linger for a moment.

"Let me finish." You look at her with wide eyes before giving a small nod. Kamilah drops her finger. "This conversation will not only be quite long. It will also be... unpleasant.

“And honestly, I… don’t feel ready to tell you everything just yet. I want to. And I will eventually. But I can’t. Just not right now.

"But I want you to know this: whatever Gaius and I had in the past doesn't matter anymore. The Kamilah Sayeed who was under his spell is no more. She has been dead for a long time now. She died the moment she saw how truly dark and cruel he is.”

She takes a second to let out a breath.

"Amy." She says your name again, the vulnerability more evident. "You are what matters to me right now. I care about you. So much. You mean a great deal to me.

"I don't know what the outcome of all of this will be, but regardless of what may happen..."

She pauses as she leans in closer. "I want you to know that you make me want to be a better person. You make me feel things that I haven't felt in a long time. You remind me that there's still hope in the world. You make me want to try and strive harder. I am just thankful that you came into my life... And I want you to stay in my life."

Her words make you feel a rush of emotions. As you hold her gaze and take in the vulnerability and sincerity that she allowed to slip through her walls, you know that she's telling you the truth.

Unable to help yourself, you press your lips against hers. Kamilah wraps her free arm around your waist as she continues to stroke the side of your face with her hand. And you tangle your fingers into her hair as your lips and tongues brush together.

You rest your forehead against hers when you pull away.

"Kamilah..." you stare into her eyes intently. "I believe you…” You continue to stare into her deep brown eyes and take in the warmth and sincerity they emanate. "We still have… a lot of things to iron out between us. But I know for sure that being with you will be worth everything that we have to go through.” She smiles at your declaration.

You untangle your fingers from her hair strands and settle them on her shoulders. "I know that we have a long way to go before all of this over. But... whatever happens, let's face it together. And whatever comes after, let's figure out together too. Promise?"

Kamilah looks at you - the earnestness in her eyes is more apparent than ever. "I promise." She whispers the words solemnly against your lips before kissing you again.

#kamilah x mc #choices kamilah #kamilah sayeed #bloodbound #choices: stories you play #bb kamilah #choices

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elisaphoenix13 · 6 years ago

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Far From Home Ch.1

This will contain Spiderman: FFH spoilers! You have been warned! I also recommend reading Conflict before this if you haven't already!

"Extra change of clothes?"

An annoyed sigh. "Yes."

"Toothpaste?"

"YES."

"Your suit?"

"Oh my God! Mom! I'm not taking my suit with me on vacation!"

Peter throws his nanotech bracelet onto his desk and Stephen frowns. The sorcerer had been extremely suffocating the past couple of days because Peter was going on a trip to Europe and his Mama Bear side wasn't happy. It didn't matter that Stephen could open a portal in a matter of seconds. He took his maternal role a little too seriously sometimes.

"You know how Tony is about you not wearing--"

"I'll have my phone!"

Stephen narrows his eyes. "Do you have--"

"Okay! Bye!" Peter pushes the doctor out of his room and closes the door, and when he looks back to his open suitcase, he laughs when he finds Tibbs sitting in the middle of it. "Sorry buddy. You can't come." The kitten mews pathetically when Peter moves him and closes the bag before setting it by his bedroom door. "You have to be good for Mom and Dad okay? Especially Mom. I'm sure he's going to go crazy."

Tibbs meows in response as Peter grabs his plane ticket and passport, gathering the rest of what he needs before grabbing his bag, leaving his room, and dragging it down to the elevator where Tony stands waiting. He thankfully didn't hover like Stephen had been, but he probably figured that the sorcerer was doing it enough for the both of them. In fact, the engineer tried to calm Stephen down and distract him from hovering for the past couple of days.

"Ready kiddo?"

Peter looks around. "Where's Mom?"

"Down in the garage waiting."

Peter raises an eyebrow but says nothing until Tony reaches for his bag with his right hand and the teen holds his hand out to stop him. The billionaire was still adjusting to his scarred side and sometimes forgot that it wasn't as strong as it used to be. Tony drops his arm after staring at it for a few quiet moments and instead guides his son to the elevator so FRIDAY can take them down to the garage. When they arrive, they find Stephen leaning against a car Peter only assumed he and Tony would be taking to the airport, and the engineer pops the trunk open. After the teen stows his luggage inside, Tony closes it back up as Mama Bear gets in some last minute fussing. Namely, a very long hug that even Peter wanted to get out of.

"Mom...its just two weeks."

Stephen smirks. "Two weeks of no cub cuddles." He laughs when Peter turns in his arms and tries to get away (mostly as a joke because if he really wanted to get away, he would have no problem) before finally releasing him. "Don't come crying if you need me later."

Tony snorts as he opens the driver side door. "Stephanie, you and I both know that's an empty threat. You will drop everything for him."

"Well he didn't know that." The sorcerer huffs out.

"Yes I did. It isn't exactly a secret." Peter says with a smug smile on his face and Stephen pushes him into the passenger side of the car.

"Behave. Have fun." Stephen says as he rounds the car to give Tony a kiss. "Be careful." He says quietly and then glances at his husband's arm. The arm that Tony lifts to grab the back of the doctor's neck.

"If it acts up, I'll ask FRIDAY to take over."

"Oh, I was talking about Peter."

Tony barks out a laugh and gives Stephen another kiss. "Of course you did asshole."

He ducks into the car and drives off to the airport, and when he pulls up to Peter's gate, Tony gets out with him and joins him at the trunk. As his son retrieves his bags, Tony pulls a small case out of his pocket and hands it over to the boy who looks at it with confusion.

"What is this?" Peter takes the case and opens it up to find a pair of glasses.

"Just in case." The teen gives him a look. "I know and see that you're not wearing your suit, so just humor me alright?"

"Dad, I have my phone--"

Tony sighs. "Peter...please." Hearing his name from his adoptive father got Peter's attention. Tony only ever used it when he was serious. "I lost you once."

I can't lose you again went unsaid, but Peter heard it anyway and closes the case before stuffing it into his carry on bag. He hugs the elder man and feels the man land a kiss on the top of his head before they part and the teen heads into the building after an exchange of 'I love you's'. Peter goes through security on auto-pilot and eventually snaps out of his daze when he reaches his gate and finds his classmates sitting around in uncomfortable chairs. The teen grins when he notices an open spot next to Ned, and he walks over to drop into the seat, startling the other boy from his phone.

"Took you long enough. Dr. Strange wouldn't let you go?" Ned asks with a knowing smile.

"You know how much I like hugs and stuff right?" Peter starts.

"Uh, yeah."

"I wanted to get away." Ned laughs and Peter slumps in his seat. "Just when I thought he couldn't be any more suffocating." He looks at Ned and holds up his phone. "So what was this plan you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh! Right! Us!" Ned starts excitedly. "Us roaming Europe as bachelors! Europeans love Americans!"

Peter opens and closes his mouth before deciding to pinch the bridge of his nose. A habit he unconsciously picked up from Stephen. "Ned. You're forgetting a small little detail."

Ned gives him a funny look and then realization dawns on the darker male. "Holy crap. I forgot you're dating Ant-man's daughter--"

Peter shushes him and looks around to make sure no one was listening. "Secretly, Ned! Our parents don't know and we kind of want to keep it that way!"

"Dude, you still haven't told them?" Peter slaps the back of his friend's head. "Ow!"

"Have you met my parents and Scott?" Peter hisses. "Scott will try to maim me and Mom will wipe the floor with him for trying and that's just chaos we don't need!"

"Okay okay! Avenger parents are a lot crazier." Ned placates the vigilante and rubs the back of his head.

Peter mumbles under his breath and they talk about their plans as they wait for their flight, board the plane, and MJ climbs over them to take the window seat. The vigilante motions his hands when the girl steps on his legs to get to her seat and then rolls his eyes when she ignores him to grab a book out of her bag. Ever since the attack on Midtown years ago (but what felt like months for them), she had allowed herself closer to Peter and Ned and it got to the point where their friendship was similar to the boys. She had no problem barging into Peter's bedroom whenever she and/or Ned spent the night, and it usually ended up with her throwing something at his head to wake him up. It happened way too often and Tony didn't do anything because he thought it was hilarious. Stephen didn't either, but he at least didn't laugh.

"Hey, Stark Junior. Your girlfriend is texting you." Michelle says and waves Peter's phone around in her hand. The vigilante gapes and shoves his hands into his pockets before blushing and snagging his cell back.

"How did you even get that?"

"Easy. You were zoning out and I took it out of your hand. She's cute...so why is she with you?"

Peter wrinkles his nose. "Dude...ow."

Ned snickers from his other side. "He's asked himself that same question twice already."

"Just for that, I'm not translating for you guys in Venice." Peter snarks.

MJ's eyebrows fly toward her hairline. "You know Italian?"

Peter shrugs. "Yeah. May spoke a little bit, and now Dad drilled it into my head. It was kind of hard not to pick it up when he speaks it a lot."

"Oh yeah...Dr. Strange's kink." Michelle says dryly and Peter gags.

"Don't say kink. I already walked in on them once and I'm traumatized for life."

"Did your parents teach you any other languages?" Ned asks. At least with him he was always genuinely curious so Peter didn't always feel the need to hit his fist against his forehead in hopes that it would knock him out.

"French, Spanish, German...Mom is teaching me to read Sanskrit." Peter counts off with his fingers.

"Wow. I'm actually impressed." Michelle says.

Their conversation stalls as the plane takes off and MJ turns her attention to her book while Peter and Ned entertain themselves with PC games for a couple of hours. Ned actually played them for most of the flight, but Peter had started to nod off halfway through the flight. He had been too excited last night to get much sleep and it also didn't help that Tibbs caught onto his excitement and demanded the teen to play with him whenever Peter actually managed to fall asleep. He tried to shut his eyes for a little while, the commercial plane not nearly as comfortable as Tony's private jet, but he managed until MJ shook him awake. The vigilante gasps out quietly at the disturbance and finds both his friends looking at him with some worry. Well, Ned was. Michelle was doing a really good job of hiding it if she even was worried.

"Wh-what? Are we there?" He asks.

"No. You were flinching in your sleep." MJ whispers. Peter was about to ask why she was whispering but a quick glance around the cabin showed that the lights were dimmed. "We were afraid you would start screaming."

"Were you having a nightmare? Ned asks.

Was he? He honestly didn't remember and he told them as such. He did thank them for waking him up though. The last thing they needed was for him to make all of the plane occupants panic if he screamed in his sleep. The bit of shut eye he did get was enough to get him through the rest of the flight and through customs, and walking around Venice woke him up a little more. Peter was able to enjoy the little bit of sightseeing his class did before they made it to the hotel, and he almost laughed. If Tony had seen their accommodations, he probably would have had an aneurysm.

"Mr. Harrington is giving us time to rest before we head out again." Ned says as he drops his bag on the bed adjacent to Peter's.

"Good. I could use a nap without the fear of freaking other people out because I have nightmares." The arachnid zips open his suitcase and groans loudly when he finds his nanotech bracelet sitting on top of his clothes. "He is such a mom."

Ned joins him to see what he's looking at and laughs. "It's your own fault for giving him that role you know."

"Shut up Ned."

#ironstrange #mama bear stephen strange #supremefamily #tony stark #peter parker #stephen strange #ned leeds #michelle jones

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letscuttothefeeling · 5 years ago

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season three episode one

Okay everyone, Siesta Key just ended and I must say – I’m overall VERY pleased with the premiere of Season 3. Even though I know everything that’s happening in this season because I created a reddit account specifically for access to a thread dedicated to all things SK, and because they posted everything that happens on the Siesta Key Instagram, I was still shocked by one thing: how much I enjoyed the episode. Let’s cut to the feeling.

Fade in. There he is – the mystery man I’ve been dying to meet – SCOTT. That’s right, Fabienne’s husband. You may know him as Juliette’s Father. Chic French queen Fabienne and confused husband Scott congratulate Juliette on her graduation from FSU and suggest she become an attorney. Juliette has plans of her own – retail. They look elated. After making a weird sex joke to her Dad, and having visible difficulty adjusting to her new veneers, Juliette has graduated, the scene is over, and I am feeling great about the season.

If you’ve ever watched SK, you know three things for sure. 1. Juliette is a hideous crier. 2. Canvas’ Mother has a complete lack of understanding when it comes to parenting. 3. Kelsey and Juliette do NOT get along. UNTIL NOW! It’s very exciting to see their first scene as not only friends – but also roomies! Even though Kelsey’s bizarrely shaped eyebrows, over plumped fake lips and orange spray tan make me feel like she must have NO real friends, because certainly, they wouldn’t let her butcher her appearance so thoroughly, she and Juliette seem to get along swimmingly by talking mad shit about Chloe. We love to see women supporting women by talking shit about other women.

Chloe, you minx! Chloe pulls up to Alex’s mansion in a Bentley toting about ten designer bags and a serious attitude. After she explains to his mother that she’s taken it upon herself to pickuppe some “luxury” clothing items for Alex in Sarasota, Florida, even though he’s quite literally in EUROPE, she also *subtly!* drops that he’s left behind his personal credit card for her own use. Weird brag, but more importantly: cha-ching! After talking shit about Juliette to a grown woman, they switch the conversation to Madisson’s new man. Queue Malibu by Miley Cyrus. Ma-jor props to whoever created the playlist for this epi.

After a stunning underwater montage from Florida to Cali, we see aspiring model/actress Maddison walking into a dinner date. Even though Chloe’s just gabbed to Alex’s mother that Braddison is no more, I still half expect BG to pop up and hold the door open for Madi. Just kidding, I don’t, because the producers of this show spilled quite literally every twist before it aired. Wait, speaking of producers – who is Madisson on a date with? Oh, it’s “ISH”, the FORTY-SIX-YEAR-OLD, BALD, AND OVERWEIGHT FORMER PRODUCER OF SIESTA KEY. Unlike Juliette’s father, Scott, I’ve met Madisson’s Dad before, so it’s not immediately apparent to me as to why she has serious Daddy issues. I’m hoping the root of this unfolds during the season. Ish, or “baby” as Madisson calls him, (again, he’s 46, so I’m not sure “baby” is the most fitting nickname, but to each her own) decides it will be totally normal to jet back to the key and surprise the children he used to exploit the cast with the announcement of his new relationship. I can’t wait.

Okay, we’re back at a dinner date – but a much more age-appropriate one between Juliette and her new man, former bachelorette contestant, Robby. I’m not a bachelor franchise fan and unfortunately for Robby, I’m NOT a Robby fan either. He’s not hot and he’s not cool. That’s literally it. Discussing this further would be a waste. Oh, it’s worth noting that new roomies Chloe and Madisson also meetuppe during this time to discuss Madisson and Ish. (Mish, if you will. Some prefer Dadisson.) Thank you, Chloe, for reacting to the news in a very relatable way by chugging alcohol and hiding in your clothing.

Um, who is this hottie emerging from a PJ? It’s the fabulous Cara, with a new nose! Normally I love to hate her - she has that je ne sais quoi – but right now, I just love her. Removing your nose job bandages on film is the kind of 2020 realness I need in my life. Enter G BABY! We’ve missed you and your utter lack of awareness, Garrett! But the love birds aren’t exactly happily reuniting – there’s def some tension in the air. Uh oh! Cara immediately becomes annoyed that Garrett both broke her heart AND kept his lips shut about her new nose. Poll – would you rather your boyfriend intentionally squeeze your fat as fuck thighs, or neglect to comment on your surgically enhanced face? The choice is yours.

While Juliette’s graduation party is great, if Alex doesn’t throw a start-of-the-summer rager, I’m suing MTV. More specifically, I’m suing YOU, Gary. Anyways, as Juliette and de ghurls are getting ready for the party, Juliette’s asked who she likes boning more – Boring Robby or shrek Alex. She hesitates for a moment but then says Robby. I take that pregnant pause as a confirmation of what I’ve known all along – Alex is great in bed and that’s the only reason Juliette was obsessed with him. (Edit – this has been confirmed on her Instagram story.)

Cut to: Cara, G baby, and Cara’s new androgynous and likely lesbian friend, Victoria, getting drinks. I don’t know what’s more confusing – the fact that Cara claims Victoria is her best friend or the fact that Garrett continues to piss Cara off by defending Kelsey while she incessantly brings her up.

Party time! But it wouldn’t be a party without Chloe intervening in something that has nothing to do with her in an attempt to destroy Juliette’s happiness. While wearing a Kentucky derby inspired hat/headband, nonetheless! Chloe and Amanda sit down with Boring Robby the second he arrives to grill him with some genual questions about his “intentions” with Juliette. And I can’t help but immediately think of that scene in Twilight when Police Chief Charlie Swan pulls out his shotgunné to intimidate his daughter’s 108-year-old vampire soul mate. Thank you, Catherine Hardwicke/ Stephanie Meyers, for this image.

At this point, I have to question Chloe’s sexuality because I can’t think of a single other reason as to why she would be so invested in Juliette’s relaysh with Robby. Is he a “phony”, simply using Juliette for fame? Maybe! But aren’t they all kind of doing that anyway? It’s like, they’re on a reality show for God’s sake. After Boring Robby says absolutely nothing of interest, (read: BORING Robby,) something actually exciting happens. Kelsey slithers over to publicly flirt with G baby in an attempt to piss off Cara, and it totally WORKS! Nice!

The second Cara sees Kelsey and G baby talking, her eyes fill with fire and she almost burns her new nose off. It’s funny that she portrays herself as such a sophisticated, cosmopolitan gal, yet she’s so blatantly insecure about trashy Kelsey and Garrett, the braindead body of meat, talking about absolutely nothing. Stop slumming it and start dating Zaddies like Madisson!

After Garrett tells Kelsey that Cara has banned him from talking to her, Kelsey marches up to Cara, grabs her by the hand, and you just KNOW the rumors are true – World War III is HAPPENING! Kelsey and Cara immediately establish that they’re not each other’s “kind of person”, and then Kelsey tells Cara that she can’t wait for Cara’s “life to explode.” Cara fires back with the ULTIMATE diss, claiming that Kelsey doesn’t even have her GED! We find out this is, in fact, not true via Instagram, thanks to Kelsey’s iconic photo of none other than GARRETT holding her on her graduation day. Okay, high school level educated kween! Go off!

Pls note caption

Here’s the thing: I dislike Cara and Kelsey, both for entirely different reasons, but IMO, Kelsey won this round. Cara came off as insecure, psychotic, and just plain mean! Cara, a word of advice? Stop gallivanting around tacky Florida and return home to America’s Kingdom – New Jersey.

Pay close attention everyone - we’re almost done and you’re about to witness reality show television HISTORY. And it is a BAG. OF. WEIRD. After Boring Robby buys Juliette a trip to Greece, Madisson and her new Dad man walk in, and EVERYONE IS SHOOK. Seriously. The cast is genuinely shocked. Please note their faces when Madisson and Ish waltz into Juliette’s grad party hand in hand. Arguably the most thrown off person of all, of course, is BG. He hastily confronts his former producer, and refers to Ish’s relationship with his ex as a “bag of weird.” Honestly, Brandon, I have to agree with you. And so does literally everyone else in the world.

After Brandon huffs, puffs, and exits, everyone gets over the initial shock of Madisson’s upsettingly old “boy”friend and the episode winds down. But there’s one twist. We learn via Chloe’s texts that Alex is on his way back from Europe. Probably wearing all the luxe clothes Chloe shipped him from Siesta Key. Because who trusts European clothes, am I right? Anyways, something tells me that Boring Robby doesn’t stand a chance once Alex touches down on the Key. But we’ll have to wait until next week to find out.

Fin

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flying-elliska · 6 years ago

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You said it feels cool to have a specific identity but isn't that exactly why we are seen as the special snowflake generation? Not to mention wasn't the whole point to be free from stereotypes and dress however we want, love whoever we want etc? And yet there's now so many identities, labels, flags which create an implicit pressure to define yourself so you'll be included. Idk I think your french friends are right,it still feels like we're pushing people into boxes; they're just woke boxes now.

Hey anon ! Thank you for this very interesting question. I hope you’re ok with getting a mini-essay as a response (that’s kind of my brand now lmao)

So first of all, if you don’t feel like you personally need labels, you are totally valid. And so are my friends. I think you have to find out what you’re most comfortable with. It’s true that labels can be used to exclude, esp in the LGBTQ+ communities. I think we focus our activism a little bit too much on words and online stuff and media representation nowadays, as opposed to practical political action, and that’s an issue. And we focus too much on people not having the correct, latest approved terminology and labels as a way to show you’re a good person, as opposed to what people are actually doing and their lived experiences, and who is authorized to use what label and those debates often just exasperate me to the highest point. It’s like, don’t you have anything better to do ? It becomes very clique-ish, school courtyard drama at times. There should always be a place for questioning, fluidity, no labels, a place for discovery and uncertainty, shifting identifications, multiple labels at once, words changing, and questioning what place they take in our lives.

But, on the whole, I still like my labels, and I’m going to try and explain why.

Labels are words right ? They have the benefits and drawbacks of words. A rose under any other name would still smell as sweet, of course. But we are a fundamentally social species, and words are a way to create bridges between people, between our experiences. It signals that you are not alone ; it’s a way to make visible things that are usually invalidated, ostracized or just plain erased by the mainstream and the status quo. The development of a vocabulary for the queer community was what made their political struggle and pride possible ; before it was “the love that dare not speak it name”, all euphemisms and shame. It honors, too, the struggle of those who came before us ; it places us in the continuity of a history ; it says we have been here before, it gives us memory and context. Of course words are going to betray us, because they can never retranscribe the fullness, complexity and confusion of lived experience. But they’re a conversation starter ; they bring people together ; they create spaces of freedom.

I’m going to give you a personal example : a few years ago I fell in love with a girl for the first time ; after that I seriously started thinking of myself as bisexual. There had always been a thing there but because I had been mostly attracted to boys before, I’d swept it under the rug. But finding the ‘bisexual’ label made me realize - no this is a thing, this is valid, and it made me look back at all those instances in the past of having weirdly intense feelings for some of my girl friends, of being obsessed with certain actresses, etc…that back then I didn’t understand, I just thought I was weird…and I always thought that bisexuality was something that something Hollywood starlets did for attention. But finding a community behind that word that was seeking to reclaim it from the stereotypes and being proud about what it meant, it was so healing.

After that I immersed myself more in my local LGBTQ+ community ; and in particular I volunteered for the European Bisexual Convention - that one in particular was incredible because it felt so…liberating. In the general LGBTQ community, people expect you to be gay until you say otherwise. In the student association I was in, it was cool, but it was also…very normative in a way. Lots of stereotypes about how we were expected to be, what we were expected to like, behave like. So for Eurobicon, to have all of that lifted, it was amazing. And it was also so much more inclusive - of disabled, neuroatypical, transgender ppl, different body types and ethnicities, like you could feel that they had made an effort. I also met several nonbinary ppl for the first time of my life and I was like…oh wow there’s something here that feels very important and real. We shared experiences that we did not have a space before, that were specifically bisexual and that tend to go unheard in general queer spaces because they’re not part of the dominant narrative : the daily hesitations, the lack of visibility, the much higher rates of staying closeted, feeling like you are not really part of the community, but also the really cool aspects too - there was this incredible energy of fluidity too of thinking, here is a space where everyone can potentially be into everyone, there aren’t as many barriers as we usually have to think about. And there was this one party and we were all dancing and flirting in a very sweet kind of way, people of different ages and body types, gender presentations and configurations I hadn’t thought about before, a girl in a wheelchair swirling around and being treated like a queen, guys in corsets and cool butches and just some beautiful people - and there was this euphoria in the room, of recognition and kinship, and it felt so…normal, not freakish like I had been led to believe it would be. Nobody was putting on airs or trying hard or whatever, they were just being themselves. And I was like, wow, this is something I need more of in my life. And this freedom was made possible by people coming together under a certain label, recognizing that certain people have specific needs and experiences. Especially after growing up in environments that never tell you that those things are possible, finding the right label can be like coming home.

I have other labels for myself I am less public about because I don’t want to deal with the social aspect of it, or I’m like this is none of anybody’s business, or I want to give myself the time to figure it out on my own. But they’re tools for self-knowledge, they allow me to think about things, to conceptualize, to research (and lol I’m a nerd so…). And to be less hard on myself sometimes, and to stand up for myself in a ‘I know who I am and it’s okay’ kind of way. Because society tends to pathologize, ostracize or demonize the things it doesn’t understand, and labels can protect you against that.

In an ideal society maybe we wouldn’t need labels - to have a right to exist or survive, and that’s definitely a goal, but I think we would still make some, because that’s who we are as a species, we need to classify certain things in order to think about them. The problem is when those boxes become cages instead of like, beautiful pots to grow seeds in, like art or poetry. And of course deconstructing the boxes we don’t want remain important. But I don’t think we can ever be box-less, it just to me doesn’t compute.

I just wanna come back to the ‘special snowflake generation’ thing. If you don’t want labels, like I said, that’s fine. But I hate hate hate that term, and I don’t want to define myself in reaction to it. To me it’s used by a) bigots who just hate the fact that natural human diversity is becoming more recognized and discussed, and want to put us back in the artificial, stifling boxes that dynamics of power, patriarchy and imperialism have made us believe were normal when they really weren’t. And b) older people who are uncomfortable with increased levels of emotional intelligence and lability among younger generations. It’s a thing I’ve noticed over and over again ; people used to talk so much less. When they had feelings in general, or experiences out of the norm, they were taught that stuffing them down and sitting on them and repressing the shit out of them, was the noble/normal/grown up thing to do. So they did and they suffered in silence. And maybe some of them now feel bitter, or at least bewildered, by younger generations refusing to do so and inventing and or reclaiming all those new ways of talking about their experiences out in the open. And so they’re like ‘it’s too much ! you’re spoiled !’ because they want to believe that their sacrifices had a point. They don’t want to realize they could have done things differently all along. It’s very sad. But I don’t think it should be a barrier to us using them like…just as we shouldn’t refrain from using washing machines because our grandmothers suffered to wash everything in a bucket…There’s nothing entitled about wanting a better life than previous generations… And to me, having more words and more space to express myself will never be a bad thing.

#pride #labels #bisexuality #bi pride #lgbt

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gimmeyoon · 6 years ago

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You’ve Become My Favorite Sin [6]

Alternatively Titled: Heavenly Way to Die

Pairing: Jungkook x Male OC | Angel!Jimin x femdemon!reader

Ratings/Warnings: M for Mature. Cursing, drinking, smut (oral), and Homophobic slurs. Main character death. Also, contains religious themes.

Word Count: 5.9 k

A/N: Most of this chapter is backstory for Jungkook’s character, but the end does switch back to the present, so you could read this without the first 5 parts but the end will be very confusing. Also, I wanted to do male reader, but I thought that having two people named _____ might be confusing, so please feel free to get rid of Henry and replace it with your name if you’re a male reader looking for some love thank you thats all

Songs: Mercy / Gatekeeper by Hayley Kiyoko, Sanctify by Years & Years, and What A Heavenly Way to Die by Troye Sivan

Summary: When Jimin started questioning his place in the world as an angel, you took it upon yourself to show him the darker side of life. Suddenly, falling from grace doesn’t seem so bad.

Previous | Next

Paris, France: 1947

Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure how he had ended up at this bar. Earlier in the night his intention had been to get soused and judging by the way he felt, he had reached that goal.

The night had gotten off to a rough start, him almost immediately having to deal with some fat-head American whose mission in life must be to attack any and all Japanese men who he runs into. Jungkook was used to this, he had been dealing with it for years now, so he silently pulled his Korean American identification card out of his wallet and presented it with his right hand to the man. His left hand presented the man his middle finger.

The fat-head apologized for his slur while Jungkook made note of his uniform. Jungkook still maintained his silence as he pulled his dog tags out from underneath his shirt.

“Wow I’m an ass,” the fat-head said. “What branch?”

“Army,” Jungkook replied as he turned back to his drink. “Would have done national guard, but they found out I could speak Japanese, so they didn’t give me a choice.”

“I’m army as well. National guard is for pussies anyways.”

“My older brother was national guard, so I would rethink that.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. Listen man, me and some GIs are having some drinks over here, and you’re welcome to join us.”

Jungkook looked over to where he pointed and weighed his options. On one hand, he was perfectly content drinking alone until he couldn’t see straight. On the other, he had to admit this was becoming a depressing routine. So, he decided to join them.

Jungkook never much liked being in the military. He and his brother had enlisted with the only other Korean American in their neighborhood. He had told them about this thing called the Tiger Brigade, a Los Angeles Korean Reserve, and they figured it was a good enough way to fulfill their draft requirement with the least risk to their life. The plan worked for everyone but Jungkook, who probably should have lied when they asked if he knew Japanese. Nevertheless, he passed the test and they shipped him to the Pacific. Sometimes when he laid in bed hoping for sleep to overtake him, he wished that he hadn’t let his grandmother teach him Japanese. He wished that he had ignored her like his brother.

But he didn’t.

“Did you develop a soul while you were gone, Fitz?” one of the GIs sitting at the table greeted as Jungkook and apparently Fitz approached the table.

“Turns out, he’s Korean,” Fitz shrugged as he slid into the booth. “and a GI like us.”

Jungkook slid into the booth after Fitz, as the other GIs ragged on their friend. He began to nervously stroke the rabbit’s foot that he kept clipped to his belt loop. His mom had given him it before he had left for the Pacific and it calmed his nerves.

From what Jungkook could gather, he and Fitz were the only two of the group that had served in the Pacific leg of the war. As was to be expected in Paris, most of these men had served in the European tour.

“I heard they gave those cards out, but I’ve never seen one,” Fitz said. “Anyways, I’d like to make a toast to our new friend.” Fitz smiled as he turned to Jungkook. “Success to our army, success to our fleet, may our foes be compelled to bow down at our feet. Here’s to – uh,” Fitz chuckled. “What’s your name?”

“You can call me Kook.”

“Kook,” Fitz laughed. “Here’s to Kook, here’s to French women, may these girls be compelled to let him come in ‘em.”

The table broke out into howling laughter as they raised their glasses.

As far as Kook could tell that was hours ago. Now Kook was here with one of the GIs, who he thinks might be called Lazy Eye but there was also a high probability that Jungkook had called him that himself in his head, because he did in fact have a lazy eye. He dare not actually call the guy that just in case it was a horrible insult he had devised on his own time.

There were three things that had struck Jungkook odd about this bar:

They had asked him for his age when he entered, which was odd because there was no drinking age as far as he knew, and if there was one, he was well over it.

Jungkook had not seen a girl enter this establishment the entire time he had been here.

Several men had bought him drinks since he had sat down.

Lazy Eye had not taken kindly to the older men approaching them and buying Jungkook drinks, which had brought the latter back to his earlier confusion. How had he gotten here?

“Where are we?” Jungkook asked as he leaned over to Lazy Eye.

“Saint-Germain-des-Prés.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. Lazy eye was dumb as well it seemed. “The bar not the quarter.”

“The bar doesn’t have a name.”

“Fuck off,” Jungkook sighed. “Did you bring me here to kill me?”

Lazy Eye laughed. “This place doesn’t have a name because you can’t tell the cops where you were last night if it doesn’t have a name.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize we drank our way back to America in the 1920s.” Jungkook said as he finished off his whiskey. He had to fight the urge to see if any of those old guys were coming back to buy him another drink. It was weird, but he couldn’t say he minded how full his wallet felt.

“You want another,” Lazy Eye asked, as if reading his mind.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy. We should at least see if there’s any more pennies from heaven.”

“Oh, so, you’re looking for a papa-gâteau.”

Jungkook furrowed his brow as he tried to piece together the little bit of French he knew. “Dad cake?”

“I believe it translates to sugar daddy.”

“Oh fuck, this is a gay bar.”

Lazy Eye laughed as Jungkook ran his hands over his face. The latter stood up quickly and went to leave, when Lazy Eye reached out to grab his wrist.

“You are gay, right?”

“Why the fuck would you think I’m a fag like you,” Jungkook spat back.

“Not in here, asshole,” Lazy Eye stood up and looked Jungkook square in the eyes. “Just to be clear, you sure as hell didn’t mind taking drinks from 3 different guys in here, so I wouldn’t act like the thought completely disgusts you.” Lazy eye looked him up and down. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Jungkook stood stunned as Lazy Eye sat down. He wasn’t a fighter and as he looked around the bar, it because clear that his explosion had not gone unnoticed. Grabbing his jacket, Jungkook quickly exited the building and walked down the street. Fuck if he knew how to get home.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite souse,” Henry smiled as he opened the door to Jungkook who had forgotten his keys in their apartment for the second time that week.

“Sorry Henry,” Jungkook slurred as he stumbled past his best friend. After the incident at the not named bar, the drinks had hit him much harder than he had anticipated.

“Thought you might be on active duty tonight,” Henry said, ignoring Jungkook’s apology. “Couldn’t bear to be without me.”

Jungkook, who had found refuge on their couch at this point, grabbed one of the pillows and threw it at his friend.

“Don’t take your lack of sex out on Alma’s pillows,” Henry smiled as he walked over to Jungkook and placed the pillow back on the couch.

“Alma can – she can-”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t like Alma.” Henry sat down beside Jungkook on the couch. The two friends say in comfortable silence, as Jungkook took deep breaths to regain his composure.

Jungkook had come to Paris to be with Henry. The two men had grown up together, living on the same street in San Francisco. They had been best friends since the first time Henry choose Jungkook to be on his team in baseball. It had been the right choice, as Jungkook was naturally athletic, but the other kids often didn’t pick him because he was Korean. Henry picked him first.

After the European leg of the war Ended, Henry wrote to Jungkook and told him that he should find his way to Paris after he beat the Japanese. He had said there were three French girls to every man in Paris and they had a penchant for the exotic. Jungkook had informed Henry that he didn’t like being called exotic, but he did like girls, so he might just take him up on that offer. Two years later and here they were sitting on the couch that Henry’s mom had bought them with the pillows Alma had bought when she visited.

Alma lived on their street growing up as well, and Henry had always been in love with her. Alma had always been in love with other men, which was why Jungkook was not fond of her. He had watched Henry be a lovesick puppy about her for 14 years now, and it had only gotten more depressing.

“Speaking of Alma,” Henry said, breaking the silence. “She wrote again.”

Jungkook sighed. “She’s bad news, Hen.”

Henry shook his head. “She broke up with that asshole, Mel.”

“Sure, and next week she’ll be with a new asshole.”

“She broke you with him three months ago,” Henry smiled as he looked down at his hands. “She said she loves me and wants me to come home. That she should have made me come back with her last time she visited.”

“She loves you?” Jungkook scoffed as he stood up from the couch. “You’re going to get on a plane for that floozy and she’s going to be back together with Mel by the time you set foot in California.”

“Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, your best friend? Would you prefer it if I lied to you and let you get on that plane like a fat-head.”

“If you were my best friend, then you would know how badly I have wanted this for my entire life,” Henry said as he stood up.

“Oh, get bent! I’ve watched you pine after Alma since I became your friend and she hasn’t been interested in you once. Now she loves you? Were you doing dope while I was gone?”

“Can’t you just be happy for me?”

“I would be more than happy to watch you marry a nice French girl, maybe settle down in the countryside, have some French speaking brats, but going back to San Francisco will be the biggest mistake of your life.”

“No, the biggest mistake of my life was inviting you to live with me.”

Jungkook recoiled as if he had been hit. Henry sighed before reaching out to him, seeming to instantly regret his words, but Jungkook pulled away from his friend.

“As stated, previously, get bent,” Jungkook said as he pushed past his best friend to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He quickly surveyed the room for something to break and settled on pushing the books off of the top his dresser. They fell to the floor with a thud and Jungkook joined them there. He pulled his knees to his chest, took the rabbit’s foot off his belt loop, and gripped it tightly in his hand. He tried to stop the tears that were forming in the corner of his eyes from falling. If he hadn’t been drinking, maybe he would have known that Henry only said that because he was angry, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt like years of knowing that Henry was too good of a friend to him were finally culminating in the realization that he had never been his friend at all.

There was a light knock at the door, but Jungkook didn’t answer. He knew who it was, and if he knew Henry it wouldn’t matter either way. The door was going to be opened.

“I’m sorry,” said Henry as the door creaked open. “I didn’t mean that. You’re my brother and I love you.”

Jungkook nodded his head but didn’t turn to face Henry. His friend walked into the room and stood in front of Jungkook, causing the latter to bury his face in his knees. He felt like a child, but he also couldn’t face Henry looking so upset.

“I’ll wait a little while, make her write a few more letters before I hop on a plane, okay? Will that make you feel better about this whole thing.”

No, but Jungkook didn’t want this interaction to go on any longer. In fact, if he had it his way he would be able to magically make a bottle of whiskey appear in his hands. That would be his dream ending to this interaction.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know, and I respect you for that. You’re a good friend, always have been,” Henry nudged Jungkook’s foot with his own, causing the latter to look up at him. Jungkook was greeted with a smile.

“Okay,” Jungkook sighed.

Jungkook was absolutely sure how he ended up in the no name bar this time. Henry had gotten another letter from Alma and he had wanted to read it verbatim to him. So Jungkook listened and he counted each word that he was absolutely certain was a lie and decided that he would do a shot for each one. He was four shots in at this point and had been put on hold for a short period of time by the bartender.

The no name bar was probably a mistake, but he figured that he could convince some of the older men to buy some of the shots he had made a personal promise to down tonight and that would make his wallet very happen. He was less happy to note that he had been thinking about the establishment since his fat-headed exit last time. He felt bad about how he treated Lazy Eye.

So, there he sat on the bar stool in a gay bar with no name because such an establishment was not always welcome. It had to be private, like the army Jungkook realized. Otherwise it was a crime.

“Silver over there wanted me to give this to you.”

Jungkook looked up and was surprised to see a woman in front of him. He quickly looked up and down the bar for Hal, the bartended that had been serving him drinks all night. When Hal was not found, he returned to the women in front of him.

“You’re new,” he said, as he took the shot from her. He threw the liquid down his throat before passing the small glass back to her

“So are you.”

“How do you know that?”

She smiled, and there was something in her smile that made Jungkook feel uneasy. There was more to it, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

“Well, because you’re wrong. I’m not new. I love this place.”

Jungkook nodded his head, mostly hoping for this conversation to be over. There was something about this woman that made him both want to look away and also never look at anything else ever again. Whatever it was made him uncomfortable and would be more than enough reason to never come back here again.

“You love him,” she said, causing Jungkook’s brow to furrow.

“Silver? I don’t even know him, and he’s not really my type.”

“That’s true. Your type is your age, from San Francisco, air force pilot, madly in love with a girl you absolutely hate, and named Henry.”

Jungkook’s draw nearly dropped open as he stared at the women. “Seutokeo,” he barely whispered.

The woman smiled as she leaned in closer to Jungkook. “Agma,” she returned in a whisper.

Jungkook recoiled at her words. Demon. This was not happening. Clearly, he had too much to drink and he was hallucinating now.

“_____, nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“How the fuck do you know all of this?”

“I just told you I was a demon, so I can only assume you are asking for a more detailed description. Very well, my dogs stay posted in this lovely establishment, and you caused quite a scene, so they followed you home. It was compelling.”

“You’re a crazy person,” Jungkook said as he stood up from his seat. He quickly turned towards the door but when he looked up at it, she was already there, greeting him with that same terrifying smile. He looked back at the bar in disbelief and when he turned back, she was in front of him. He recoiled and had it not been for her hand on his arm he surely would have fallen to the floor.

“Let’s take a walk, okay?”

Jungkook found himself in the cool Parisian night before he could object, and he began to weigh his choices. If she was a demon, there was one place he knew she couldn’t go, he just needed to keep his eyes out for a church and be ready to run once he got close enough. Easy.

“You’re in love with your best friend, and I want to help you.”

“I am not in love with my best friend,” Jungkook spat.

“But you are. You love him so much but you can’t say anything because the big guy made it so everyone would hate you for it.” She pointed up to the sky as she said this and Jungkook stupidly followed her finger. He quickly looked away once he realized her point.

“I’m not gay. I like girls.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to be straight with me, Jungkook. I’m a huge fan of yours.”

Jungkook snorted in response. “A big fan of me? Hell, I didn’t know I was with a fan, I would have offered to sign something for you.”

“How about you sign away your soul?” She winked. “You promise me your soul and I’ll make Henry fall in love with you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I-”

“Listen,” she interrupted as she stopped walking. “You can lie to me until you’re blue in the face, but you are in love with him.”

Jungkook desperately wanted them to start walking again so he could keep looking for a church. He pulled away from her lightly to try and get the show on the road, but she pulled back harder, making him stay with her. Jungkook was certain of one thing, this was bad, and he was not getting out of it.

“You want him, and I want you to have him. Falling in love with you will save him,” she said. “He won’t go back to California, he’ll stay right here with you and be crazy happy about it.”

Her last point piqued Jungkook’s interest. If he was being honest, there was this part of him that he had shoved down when he was about 15-years-old. He had been playing football with the neighborhood kids and he was just about to make a touchdown when he got knocked aside. He landed on his back and when looked up Henry was smiling down at him.

Gotcha, Kook, was all he said in response, but Jungkook had thought about those words for weeks. He had felt something then that when he was home alone hours later, he felt ashamed for. Something that threatened to bubble up any time he was with Henry after that. Something that made his skin rise when Henry walked around half-naked in their apartment. Something that made him hate Alma, because she was going to get him in the end, when Jungkook knew who really deserved him. Who would do anything for him.

“Let’s say you’re right-”

“I am.”

“what happens to me. I mean, what does selling my soul mean.”

A small smile danced at her lips. “I need a right-hand man, and you’re the guy I want. You spend the rest of your life with Henry and then you spend it with me, running my dominion as my principality. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook wanted to pretend that he needed time to think it over, but the moment she had promised that he would stay in Paris and forget about Alma he had been sold. Finally, Henry would be free of her, they would be free of her.

“Okay.”

“Fantastic,” she reached down and pulled the rabbits foot off of Jungkook’s belt loop. “I’ll be needing this, and you’ll be needing some paper work.”

Jungkook hesitated as he stood outside of his and Henry’s apartment. _____ had left him long ago with the promise that her magic worked immediately. However, Jungkook’s brain wasn’t working as quickly. He was terrified because this meant he was giving into every thought, every feeling he hadn’t let himself have for close to ten years. He knew what he always knew; giving into this meant no going back. Stepping into that apartment would change everything and right now he wanted to be the same Jungkook who only liked girls for just a few moments more. The Jungkook that stood on the other side of that door was confusing and new and scary and he wasn’t ready for that yet.

Then again, he wasn’t sure he would ever be ready for that.

Gripping the door handle with his shaking hand, Jungkook slowly opened the door and entered his new life.

Henry was sleeping on the couch and there was a pang in Jungkook’s heart at the sight. Turns out, his new life wasn’t waiting immediately on the other side because this was normal. His friend stirred as Jungkook shut the door and the latter worried that he had awoken him.

“I tried to stay up,” Henry said, confirming Jungkook’s concerns. “but you’re always out so late.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Henry chuckled, his tone deep with sleep, and opened his eyes slightly. “I’m glad you did. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” Jungkook feigned ignorance as he walked further into the apartment and closer to Henry.

“Alma wrote today,”

Jungkook nodded his head. This was the part he had been most excited about. The moment when Henry said that he no longer cared what she thought.

“She’s coming to visit again.”

“What. The. Fuck.” Jungkook held his head in his hands as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. He had been duped. “I can’t believe I sold my soul to a demon for this shit. I really let myself unearth all of the horrible feelings I have for you, damned myself for eternity, and you have the audacity to still be in love with her, because I got tricked by a demon.”

“Jungkook, are you okay? You’re not making any sense.” Henry stood up from his spot on the couch, any tiredness that may have been present in his eyes now replaced by concern. “Please, take a seat, you’ve probably had too much to drink again.”

“I’m in love with you, you fat-head! I know it’s wrong and I know I shouldn’t, but I am in love with you and the fact that you would be with someone like her, someone so beneath you, makes me want to die,” Jungkook pulled his arm away from Henry as he began pacing around the living room. “So I did just that, I damned myself for eternity so I could finally be happy on this god-forsaken Earth and for once in my pitiful life feel like loving you was the right thing to do, and you tell me Alma is coming here and the next thing I know you’re back in California and I continue to be sad and alone, fucking girls that I’ll never love because I love you.”

“Jungkook,”

“What?”

Henry jumped at Jungkook’s words and the latter realized he was still shouting. He put his hands out to show that he was sorry and calming down.

“You love me?”

Jungkook snorted as he looked down at his feet. It was probably too late to turn back now. “Oh, you heard that? You heard me screaming that I love you?” He looked up at Henry. “Is it too late to say that was all a joke?”

“You’re a fat-head, you know that?” Henry smiled as he walked to Jungkook.

“Or maybe I’m working on some lines for a play? Or what about if I sa-” Jungkook’s words died on the tip of his tongue as Henry reached up and placed his hands on either side of Jungkook’s face. He hesitated for only a moment before pressing his lips against Jungkook’s.

Jungkook was stunned, having been so sure that he had been tricked by the demon, but as Henry’s warm body pressed deeper into his own, he finally realized that this was really happening, and he kissed the man he loved back. Jungkook had always thought that giving into his desire for Henry would make him feel heavy with shame, but he had never felt lighter in his life. It was as if the room was no longer around them and the world no longer existed. It was just him and Henry as he had always wanted it.

Jungkook deepened the kiss, the longing in his chest growing stronger. He had wanted Henry for so long and there was a part of his brain that told him they had plenty of time and that everything could wait. The other part was tired of waiting and that was the part he decided to listen to. He pressed his hardening cock into Henry’s thigh, causing the latter to smile into their kiss. Henry pulled back and smirked at Jungkook before pulling the latter back into his room. The next few moments were a flurry in Jungkook’s mind as he tried to control his rapidly beating heart. He had been wrong earlier when he had said that everything was going to change when he entered the apartment. Everything was going to change now. Henry was the first person to remove his shirt, Jungkook was sure of that, because he had pulled Henry in for another kiss once he realized that he could finally do that whenever Henry was half-naked around the apartment.

“I want you,” Henry said as they broke away from the kiss, and that was when Jungkook’s shirt came off. The rest of their clothes came off quickly and Jungkook did his best to maintain his composure when Henry dropped to his knees in front of him. Wrapping his fingers around Jungkook’s hardened member, Henry smiled before licking languidly at the tip of his cock. Jungkook hissed at the contact and instinctively wound his fingers into Henry’s hair pulling him closer to where he wanted him. Henry wrapped his lips around Jungkook’s cock and began moving slowly up and down his length.

Jungkook was embarrassed by how quickly he felt his high approaching, but he wasn’t done with Henry yet. He had been waiting so long that this couldn’t be the end. He pulled lightly at Henry’s hair, but he did not let up. Instead he swatted at Jungkook’s hand and gripped tightly at his thigh. Jungkook swore under his breath and did his best to hold on.

He looked up at the ceiling, because looking down at Henry while he took Jungkook’s dick into his mouth so well and so happily, was too much for him to handle while his ego refused to let him cum.

“Fuck,” Jungkook looked back down at Henry and the latter’s eyes looked back at him. “You’re amazing, I can’t hold on any longer.”

Henry moaned around Jungkook’s length, causing a slew of obscenities to leave Jungkook’s mouth as he came. Henry continued his pace as he milked Jungkook for all he had and pulled away once Jungkook’s orgasm had finished. Jungkook lazily smiled at Henry as he stood up from his spot.

“I love you,” he whispered, as Henry wrapped his arms around his neck.

“I love you too, Kook. Always have.”

Jungkook rolled over in his bed and reached out for Henry, only to find that he wasn’t there. Jungkook’s eyes quickly shot open as he searched the room for his boyfriend. The had been taking turns sleeping in each other’s room since that night months ago, and he hadn’t woken up without Henry in a long time. Even when Henry had work early in the morning, he made sure to wake Jungkook up with a kiss before leaving.

Utterly confused and slightly worried, Jungkook got out of bed and walked into the living room. He searched the entire apartment for Henry, but he wasn’t there. Looking at the calendar that hung-over Henry’s desk, confirmed that he didn’t work early today. He should be here. Jungkook walked back to his room to put some clothes on his naked body. As he cleaned up the remnants of last night, he tried to remember if Henry had said anything about an errand he needed to run, or a friend he was going to see. Jungkook couldn’t think of anything. As he finished making the bed, the door to the apartment opened and closed, allaying Jungkook’s fears. Whatever Henry needed to do, he was back now, and everything was okay.

“I woke up and you weren’t here,” Jungkook said as he walked into the living room.

Henry looked up at him and offered him a small smile, as he shrugged his jacket off. “Sorry, Kook, I just had something I forgot I needed to do.”

“It’s okay, you just owe me tonight,” Jungkook teased as he wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist and pulled him in for a kiss.

Henry offered him another small smile when he pulled back and he quickly moved out of Jungkook’s embrace. The interaction felt off to Jungkook, but he decided not to bring it up. He didn’t want to seem clingy and it was probably nothing.

“Did you eat before your errand, I can make breakfast?”

“Yeah, that’d be great, Kook. Thanks.”

Jungkook made his way into the kitchen and he began to make breakfast, but something about Henry still felt off to him. In fact, it continued to feel off to him for the rest of the day. Jungkook had tried to talk to him about his errand while the ate breakfast, but Henry said it was nothing for him to worry about. Jungkook went into work and tried not to think about what Henry had been doing, but they had never had secrets between each other besides the fact that Jungkook had feelings for him. It wasn’t right that he was keeping something from him, and Jungkook was intent on making him tell the truth. However, all of that went out the door when Jungkook was greeted after work with a passionate kiss and hours of sex. The only thing that had felt normal all day was when Jungkook was rocking his hips into Henry’s, so he convinced himself that he was blowing everything out of proportion and that nothing was wrong.

Henry cuddled into him as they fell asleep that night, and Jungkook was sure that everything was going to go back to normal tomorrow morning.

That was until he opened his eyes.

“Fuck,” Henry cursed as Jungkook woke up. Henry was straddling Jungkook, and the latter was just about to make a joke about him not getting enough last night, when Henry’s hands flew to Jungkook’s neck.

“Kinky,” Jungkook coughed out before he realized that Henry’s hands were getting tighter on his neck.

Too tight in fact. Jungkook reached up to try and pry Henry’s hands off of him, he was stronger than Henry, but the latter had gotten the element of surprise and Jungkook was losing momentum as his airway was cut off.

Henry looked crazy above him, his eyes angry but somehow also sad. As Jungkook tried to beg him to stop it almost looked like he regretted what he was doing, but his grip only got tighter.

Jungkook batted at his lover’s hands as he tried to understand what was happening. He wanted to ask Henry why he was hurting him, he wanted to know what he had done, but mostly he wanted to know what that fucking errand was because he knew now that it had to have something to do with this. How had Henry gone from lying to this so quickly?

Jungkook’s chest burned as he continued to struggle against Henry, but his attacks were weakening as it became harder and harder to breath. His head felt light like it had when Henry had first kissed him, and he wondered how they had gotten to this point. How could someone he loved so much hold him down and murder him?

Jungkook never got the chance to ask as the world went dark around him.

And then she was there smiling.

“It’s good to see you again, Bunny. Sorry it had to end so soon.”

Jimin gasped for air as he sat on the floor of _____’s office. He had started to panic once he saw the heavenly blade on the principalities desk and he had pressed the moon on his chest in fear as he waited for you to pull him back to your dominion.

“They’re going to kill you,” he finally said as he turned to face you. “They have a heavenly blade. I saw it. You have to send me back, before Jungkook’s meeting is over, but you need to know that you are not safe.”

You looked at him with a neutral face that Jimin couldn’t read. “Anything else?”

Jimin looked at you confused. “No that’s it.”

“Just my impending erasure from existence then?”

Jimin nodded his head a frown on his face.

“Well if it’s just that,” you chuckled. “I guess I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Jimin went to respond but the familiar feeling of dematerializing echoed throughout his body and soon enough he was back outside of Dragas’ office. Beside him stood one of Dragas’ demons who looked at him skeptically.

“Didn’t want to take the stairs,” Jimin said with a humorless chuckle, looking down at his shoes.

Jungkook emerged with Dragas only moments later and he too seemed surprised to see Jimin. He nodded his head at the angel before motioning for him to follow him down the stairs.

“Weren’t you supposed to be looking for something,” Jungkook hissed as they walked to the entrance.

“I found something, and it’s really bad,” Jimin hissed back. “Somehow they got their hands on a Heavenly Blade.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened as he turned to Jimin. He quickly grabbed the Angel’s arm and pulled him out of Dragas’ mansion. “How do you know that?” He asked once they had made it outside. “How do you even know what one looks like?”

This was not good. Jimin quickly tried to think of a reason why he, a new demon, would have any idea what kind of weaponry angels used. “_____ showed me what they looked like just in case I saw anything like that while I was searching.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow at this but pushed no further. “If you’re right, we’re in way over our heads.”

“I hope I’m wrong then. I really do.”

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