#these are supposed to be in charles’ pov and how he felt in the moment for some of them

[bisexualmultifandommess]

I’ve been updating my Charles Xavier Spotify Playlist and I’ve found songs for my three favourite Charles relationship dynamics that makes me sad 😭 these are going to include headcanons probably but most are close to what Charles really goes through

My Only Friend by Amy Shark (Ft. Tom DeLonge) - I feel like this song really fits Hank and Charles’ relationship before and during Days of Future Past. They’re my favourite friendship and I love seeing their dynamic explored in fics because it’s such a complicated relationship but for the longest time they were definitely each other’s person.

Dorothea by Taylor Swift - This song really made me imagine it as Charles talking to Raven or thinking about Raven when he misses her. He wishes he still had his sister and reminisces about their youth and the way things used to be. It really fits the sad feeling over her leaving as well as the hope of reconciliation one day.

Now with Erik I have so many that could fit different aspects of his relationship with Charles and how Charles feels about him so I’m going to list songs that I think fit the different emotions Charles may feel in regards to their relationship and especially the events in FC and DoFP.

The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo and First Burn from Hamilton - These two songs definitely fits the anger Charles feels in regard to his relationship with Erik. He obviously loves Erik a lot but I believe that at least in the early years he felt so much anger and sadness over the miscommunication and his sister leaving that he must’ve occasionally had angry thoughts that he usually wouldn’t have. It’s an anger that he would later move on but I think it’s definitely shown in DoFP and I headcanon anyway that he felt so angry at times at Erik. The Grudge definitely feels more like Charles getting upset at Erik but saying these things to himself about what happened to him and trying to come to terms with what happened and First Burn feels more like he’s actually talking to Erik.

I miss you, I’m sorry by Gracie Abrams and The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives - These are definitely the sad aspect which I always love looking into because I love angst. I miss you, I’m sorry is more of a mourning the relationship song where Charles thinks back on before everything went wrong and how happy he was with him and how upset he is over the separation. The lyrics “I don’t wanna go, think I make it worse. Everything I know brings me back to us” to me show how dependent they are on each other and that they’re always going to be a part of each other no matter how many years go by. He’s always going to be connected to Erik and miss him even if things originally ended badly. The Moon Will Sing feels like it’s fits the trope of a character helping another find their spark but losing their own in the process. Charles loves Erik and Erik loves Charles but their relationship has made things difficult and Charles kind of lost himself for a bit after everything but he did eventually find his way back.

[gguk-n]

Growth & Realisation (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Summary- In a world where you are destined to be with someone forever, a hopeless romantic lives her life in hope of finally finding her soulmate.

Part 1 Alt ending

ENDING Oscar's POV

I left that day, leaving my soulmate for good or so I thought. That's the funny thing about fate you see, you can't avoid it. If it was meant to be then it was meant to be. Things between me and my girlfriend soured after that. It was like we fought about the smallest of things and couldn't see eye to eye. All I could think about was my soulmate in the moments we fought, would she also get angry at me the same way my girlfriend did. Her name sounded so pretty, that interaction embedded in my heart. But every time I tried to remember her voice I would also remember the heart break I caused. It served me right. The relationship I held onto to let her go was falling apart right in front of my eyes and I didn't know how to fix it.

After 6 months of back and forth me and my girlfriend finally broke up. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. I spent most of my time wallowing in my own pity. I didn't know where she lived or what she did. How was I going to find her? All of this had started to affect my racing. Charles had really taken on the role of a big brother after the adoption that happened as a joke. He had noticed my turmoil.

Charles sat me down one day, "Hey Oscar, is everything alright? You've been so out of it lately." he said. I didn't know what to tell him or where to start but I knew one thing he was/ had been in a similar predicament. "What did you do when you found your soulmate while you were dating your ex?" Charles seemed to understand where this was going, "I broke up with her and started seeing my soulmate." he said. "Was it that easy to leave the person you loved for your soulmate?" I asked. "It was a no brainer, she was the love of my life. We were fated to be together for the rest of our lives." He answered. I let out an exasperated sigh.

I ran a hand through my already messy hair, I muttered, "Fuck" and kept rubbing my eyes which were now raw from all the rubbing. Charles sat there quietly waiting for me to talk to him. He didn't push me. I slowly began speaking, "6 months ago, I met my soulmate." I breathed out while he waited for me to continue. "I was in a relationship at that time and I didn't want to give up that comfort for something new. So I rejected my soulmate. But every day since then I've been in turmoil. My relationship ended. I can't drive properly, I can't think straight. Every waking moment is occupied with the thought of my soulmate. Even sleep wouldn't grace me to end my misery." I spoke. Charles patted my back, "Mate, you fucked up. I don't know what to say but you should try to find her. That's the only way. She is supposed to be the one. That's why your heart is like this. You shouldn't have rejected her. I am not sure if she will take you back but you can try. Meeting your soulmate is a once in a life time thing and you just blew it. Let's hope for your sake, you get another chance." I felt like crying, this can't be happening I thought.

10 years later

It has been so long since that incident, but I hadn't stopped looking. I went back to the city we first met every once in a while in search of Y/N. I knew the city like the back of my hand at this point. I travelled the world more than necessary in hopes of meeting her. My racing career was slowly winding down, having won a lot of races and finding success that I always dreamt of. The one thing missing was the person I could share this with. I dreamt of our kids and them becoming racers too.

On an uneventful day in autumn, I was back home for the weekend. The morning swim was quite refreshing but a good coffee would really wake me up. I went to the new cafe that had popped up near my parent's house. As I neared the cafe, I saw something peculiar. My red string of fate had become visible again, after 10 years. Maybe fate was really giving me another chance and I wasn't going to fuck it up again. I followed the thread to finally see her. She looked beautiful as ever, I started to walk towards her when she saw me and bolted. I ran after her, calling out her name. She was fast but after a few minutes I was able to finally catch her. "Y/N, Hi! I'm Oscar Piastri, your soulmate." I said, the dichotomy of the statement. She blinked at me thrice before freeing herself from my grasp. "What do you want?" she spat. I could feel the hurt. "I-I-I, uhm, we're soulmates. I've been searching for you for so long. I'm just happy we met." I said scratching my neck. She looked at me confused, "I thought you had a girlfriend and we couldn't be together" she said. "That was a long time ago, and I broke up with her soon after we met. I just, I'm sorry for being an ass. I just wanted us to give it another go. I searched every country for you. It's funny how you are here, the last place I would look." I laughed. "You don't have to forgive me immediately. But I really want to be with you. If you'll let me?" I rushed to complete my sentence in one breath.

Tears started to well up in her eyes, I quickly reached to wipe them off. My hands cupping her cheeks. "You know I've been watching you everyday since then, making sure you were ok, celebrating your wins and crying at your loses. I watched all of your content and held onto all the merch and memorabilia but I couldn't get myself to go to another race. This feels like a dream. You've broken my trust for sure and I can't let you in immediately, but you are my soulmate at the end of the day." She said. I was crying at this point. She wiped away my tears. "I'm so sorry Y/N. I'll make it up to you for the rest of my life. I promise." She smiled for the first time since we met. "Can I kiss you?" I whispered. "I thought you'd never ask." She said as she pushed herself up to meet my lips. The moment was perfect and I was going to cherish this and her for the rest of my life.

I hope you like it. There is an alternate ending if you like angst.

[bloomingpresent]

FERRO ROSSO Chapter IX

Pairing: Charles Leclerc/Female reader digital artist older woman

Summary: in your mid 30’s you never imagined you’d be divorced. To help with the healing process you decide to return to your first love: digital illustration. Posting videos of your art online leads you to work for Ferrari. But you never thought it’d lead you to find somebody who’s going to bring you back to trust again in love.

Warnings: NSFW! 18+, swearing mention of sexual words, consensual sex, penetration, cheating, sexually themed. IT’S ALL ABOUT REVERSE AGE GAP HERE. Older woman with a younger man. They are both adults, don’t be judgemental. 

Disclaimer: I don’t mean any offense to Mr. Leclerc. 

English isn’t my first language so all mistakes are my own.

All the previous chapters are here

Charles POV:

Charles watches you leave for the briefing, your back straight, your steps brisk. He's stuck in place, his jaw tight, his mind churning with guilt and determination. It’s not supposed to be this way, he thinks. He had dragged you into his world—one that’s all speed, noise, and constant scrutiny—without considering the consequences.

But he couldn’t deny what he felt, even if the timing was terrible. Seeing you with your guarded eyes and sharp wit had been a breath of fresh air. You were different from everyone else in the paddock: you saw beyond the shiny facade and asked him questions that cut straight to the heart. It’s no wonder he was hooked from the start.

The problem was the mess he created. He had been careless. Bringing his girlfriend to that party after things had gotten intense between the two of you was reckless and cruel. It wasn’t fair to anyone, least of all to you. Now he’s left with the fallout: a tangled mess of desire, regret, and a desperate need to fix things.

As the media commitments continue, Charles finds himself half-listening to questions, his focus elsewhere. Every time you enter his line of sight, there’s a tug at his chest. He’s reminded of the stolen moments you’ve shared, both fiery and tender, and how they’ve been tainted by his mistakes.

When there’s a brief pause in the chaos, he seizes the chance to corner you in a quiet alcove of the paddock. You look wary as he approaches, arms crossed as if to shield yourself from whatever he might say.

“I need to talk to you,” he starts, his voice low but urgent.

“Now?” You raise an eyebrow, not backing down. “I’m trying to do my job, Charles.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I need you to hear me out, please.”

You glance around, making sure no one is watching. “This better be good.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “I screwed up. I know that. I never meant for you to get hurt, but I can’t change what happened.”

“Then what’s the point of this conversation?” you ask, your tone icy.

“I want you to understand why I pushed for this role for you. It wasn’t just for me—it was because I believe in you, in your talent. You deserve this opportunity.”

“You can’t just manipulate my career because you feel guilty,” you snap, eyes blazing. “This isn’t some twisted form of compensation, Charles.”

“It’s not about guilt,” he insists, taking a step closer. “It’s about what’s real between us. I know it’s a mess, but I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

There it is, raw and exposed. He watches you process his words, your defenses visibly wavering for a moment before snapping back into place.

“Caring isn’t enough,” you say quietly. “I need to protect myself, and I can’t do that if I’m constantly trying to decipher your feelings or your motives.”

He feels a pang of helplessness, a sense that he’s losing you before he ever truly had you. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admits, his voice breaking slightly. “I know I have no right to ask for another chance, but I’m asking anyway.”

You take a deep breath, looking conflicted. “I don’t know if I can trust you, Charles. Not after everything.”

The vulnerability in your eyes is like a punch to his gut. He reaches out, but you instinctively pull back, as if afraid to let him get too close.

“I get it,” he says softly, dropping his hand. “But I won’t give up. Not on you, not on us—whatever ‘us’ even means right now.”

“Why does this matter so much to you?” you demand, voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness.

“Because you matter to me,” he answers simply. “And I know I’m not good at this—I mess things up, and I’m scared as hell of making it worse. But I want to try, if you’ll let me.”

There’s a long silence, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. He waits, hoping you’ll find a way to meet him halfway. But as you look at him, he sees the walls you’ve built and knows it’ll take more than words to break them down.

“Right now,” you finally say, your voice steady, “I just need space to figure things out. If you really care, you’ll respect that.”

It’s not the answer he wants, but it’s something. He nods slowly, accepting your terms even as it tears at him.

“Okay,” he agrees. “But I’m not giving up. Not yet.”

You don’t respond, your eyes lingering on him for a second longer before you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the narrow corridor. The weight of his mistakes hangs heavy, but for the first time, he feels a glimmer of hope. It’s fragile and uncertain, but it’s there.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough—for now.

Later at Y/N’s hotel room.

You toss and turn in bed, sleep eluding you. You replay the heated conversation with Charles in your head, dissecting every word, every emotion. You feel trapped between two opposing desires: the need to protect your heart and the undeniable pull he has on you. By the time dawn breaks, you’re no closer to a decision. 

“Ugh,” you groan into your pillow, realizing that in just a few hours you’ll have to face him again.

The morning sun streams through the curtains of your hotel room, reminding you that it’s already practice day. You gather your things, determined to maintain your professionalism despite the swirling emotions inside. You quickly get dressed and head to the paddock, hoping that the chaos of race weekend will distract you.

The paddock is buzzing with activity as you arrive. Engines roar, media scramble for interviews, and teams rush around in a flurry of preparation. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead.

Charles is already at the Ferrari garage, his focus seemingly on the upcoming session. You try to keep your distance, but as the team starts gathering for a quick briefing, you have no choice but to join him.

“Morning,” he greets, his voice casual but his eyes searching yours.

“Morning,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral.

There’s a moment of awkward silence as the rest of the team begins discussing logistics. You scribble notes furiously, trying to keep your mind from wandering to the way his jaw tenses when he concentrates, or the faint stubble lining his chin.

During the session, you’re forced to work side by side, monitoring media requests and planning interviews. The close proximity makes your skin tingle, but you do your best to stay focused. At one point, Charles leans closer to look at the list on your tablet, his arm brushing against yours.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, but there’s a hint of something more in his voice—something that makes your breath hitch.

“It’s fine,” you manage to say, though your voice is tighter than you’d like.

Just as things start to feel overwhelmingly intense, Carlos Sainz appears, grinning like he’s in on a private joke.

“Hola, Y/N!” he exclaims, his energy infectious. “You seem stressed. Charles giving you a hard time, huh?”

You laugh, relieved for the distraction. “He’s always a handful.”

Carlos chuckles, playfully nudging Charles with his elbow. “Don’t worry. I can be your new assistant if he gets too annoying. I make excellent coffee, you know.”

Charles shoots Carlos a look, trying to play it off, but you see the tension in his posture. He’s not used to seeing you this relaxed with someone else, and it clearly bothers him.

“Careful, Carlos,” Charles warns with a smirk, though his eyes flash with something darker. “She might actually take you up on that.”

“Oh, really?” you tease, enjoying the game. “Maybe I will. I could use someone more reliable.”

Carlos laughs loudly, enjoying the banter. “I am always at your service, Y/N. Anything to make Charles squirm a little.”

It’s meant to be a lighthearted jab, but it has a different effect. You see Charles’s jaw clench, his gaze narrowing as he watches the interaction between you and Carlos. He’s not amused anymore—he’s irritated, maybe even jealous. 

As the conversation continues, Carlos’s playful demeanor makes you feel seen in a way that doesn’t involve the heavy tension you’ve had with Charles. For a moment, you let yourself forget the drama, laughing at Carlos’s jokes and enjoying the easy chemistry.

But then you catch Charles’s gaze, and the intensity in his eyes nearly takes your breath away. It’s as if he’s silently telling you that this playful game with Carlos isn’t going to change anything between you and him. You feel a rush of heat at the thought, a reminder of the magnetic pull you’ve been trying to resist.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. Charles is distant but focused, and you sense a simmering frustration beneath his calm exterior. You wonder if he’s regretting pushing you into this role, or if he’s more determined than ever to keep you close.

As the day winds down, you retreat to your hotel room, hoping for a moment of clarity. But all you feel is confusion. Your body hums with the memory of Charles’s touch, your mind replaying the way he looked at you earlier—like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss you or fight you.

You’re just starting to unwind when there’s a knock at your door.

Your heart leaps, and you instinctively know who it is.

You pause at the door, your hand hovering above the handle. You know who’s on the other side, and the weight of the moment makes your breath catch. When you finally gather the courage to open it, Charles stands there, the dim lighting from the hallway casting shadows on his face.

His expression is conflicted—equal parts desire and hesitation. “Can I come in?” he asks softly, his voice almost uncertain for the first time.

You nod silently, stepping aside to let him in. The room feels charged, the air thick with unspoken words. As he steps closer, you see the storm of emotions swirling in his eyes. You can’t hold back any longer; whatever this is, it’s real and it’s right here in front of you.

“I tried to stay away,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “But I can’t. I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

You swallow hard, the vulnerability in his words breaking down the last of your defenses. “I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, voice shaky.

“Then let’s figure it out together,” he says, his gaze intense as he takes your hand, slowly pulling you closer.

There’s a moment of stillness before he dips his head, his lips brushing softly against yours. It’s tentative at first, as if he’s testing your response. But the second you kiss him back, something snaps—like a dam breaking, releasing a flood of suppressed longing. His kiss deepens, urgent yet tender, as if he’s trying to convey everything he can’t say in words.

His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and the tenderness of the gesture makes your heart swell. You can feel his need for you, but it’s laced with a kind of reverence that makes your body shiver. You respond in kind, letting your hands find their way to his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

Charles’s lips trail down to your neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, the words raw and reverent.

The world outside ceases to exist. All that matters is the warmth of his touch, the way he seems to worship every part of you with his mouth and hands. His fingers are gentle, tracing your skin as if he’s savoring the feel of you beneath his fingertips.

He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed as if you’re something precious. When he lays you down, there’s a moment where he just looks at you, his eyes filled with an unspoken promise. 

You undress each other. Words are replaced by caresses and kisses. This is not just sex, this is intimacy.

“I want to make you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with need but tinged with a softness that takes you by surprise.

And he does. He’s slow, deliberate, taking his time to explore you with a kind of devotion you’ve never felt before. His mouth trails down your body, and every kiss, every touch, feels like a silent vow. He’s attentive, reading every gasp, every arch of your back, as he finds the rhythm that makes you tremble beneath him.

You're still tense, you know this isn't just sex, and you don't want to let go.

“Let go,” he urges, his voice low and coaxing as he moves in a way that’s both commanding and tender. “I want this for you.”

And you do. You let yourself fall into the moment, giving in to the waves of pleasure that crash over you, raw and overwhelming. Charles watches you with an intensity that makes you feel cherished, his eyes locked on yours even as you lose yourself completely.

The way his tongue plays with your nipples, the way his fingers caress your clit. It's all designed to give you pleasure. Maybe he's not thinking about it, maybe he's acting on instinct, you can't figure it out right now.

When he finally takes you fully, it’s slow and gentle at first, as if he’s savoring every second. He’s careful, almost reverent, but as the tension builds, the urgency grows. His thrusts become more insistent, matching the rising heat between you. You meet each other in a perfect rhythm, bodies moving together in a way that feels both primal and achingly intimate.

He is also vulnerable now, he is not thinking about himself, he is thinking about giving you pleasure, seeing and feeling the way your body responds, fills him with pleasure too.

He whispers your name like a prayer, his voice husky and filled with desire. “I don’t want this to end,” he admits between ragged breaths, his forehead pressed against yours.

You cling to him, the intensity of the moment making your heart feel raw. “Then don’t,” you whisper back, your voice filled with emotion.

It’s a feverish kind of passion, but beneath it all, there’s a softness, a tenderness that wraps around you like a warm embrace. It’s not just about the physical—it’s about something deeper, something that’s been simmering between you for too long.

You moan his name as he brings you to climax. The feeling of your orgasms around him and the way you moan his name brings him to climax as well. He doesn't take his eyes off of you as he finishes. The connection.

He kisses your neck after a few moments of sliding out of you. He goes to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. You're staring at the ceiling savoring the pleasure.

When he comes back, you lie together, tangled in sheets and each other’s warmth. Charles’s fingers trace patterns on your skin, his breath still uneven. You’re both quiet, the silence filled with a kind of contentment you hadn’t expected.

But you know he can’t stay. It’s clear in the way he holds you a little tighter, as if trying to imprint the memory of this moment before reality intrudes.

“Stay,” you whisper, the word slipping out before you can stop it.

He lifts his head, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead. “I wish I could,” he says honestly, regret etched in his voice. “But I have to be up early.”

The thought of him leaving makes your chest tighten, but you nod, understanding. He carefully untangles himself from you, pulling on his clothes with quiet efficiency. Before he leaves, he sits on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to gently stroke your hair.

“I’m not walking away,” he promises, his voice soft but firm. “We’ll figure this out.”

You manage a small smile, your heart aching even as hope flares. “I know.”

He leans down for one last kiss, soft and lingering, as if he’s trying to hold onto this moment for as long as he can. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers against your lips.

Then he’s gone, the door clicking softly behind him. You’re left lying in the dark, feeling a mix of fulfillment and longing that you can’t quite put into words. It’s the start of something, but what that ‘something’ is, you’re not sure yet.

All you know is that you’re willing to find out.

P.S: I'd love your here your feedback! Or if you have any suggestions. I had a bit of a emotional brake downwriting that last part. And please! Oh please listen to that song in the story. Love ya!

Tags: @janeh22 @elenizacharop @h-jpg

[nyoomfruits]

YES baby au director’s commentary on the part where Julie calls Max ‘dad’ I was tearing up tbh

oh my god i'm SO glad you asked that's like one of my favorite scenes

i did some research (aka i scrolled all the way back in my chat with eby to when i first mentioned this fic idea to her) and this was legitimately one of the first things i mentioned wanting to include, and it truly speaks to how much i loved the idea of this scene that it actually ended up making it in because a lot of the early stuff gets left on the cutting room floor (case in point: i have a word document with all the deleted scenes that also has some scenes from max's pov because i did consider in the beginning to do it from his pov instead of charles's)

i also dont think much changed from how we originally imagined it?? eby pretty quickly came up with the neck/jaw grabbing thing (ALL the credit to her for that one) and the rest turned out pretty much how i had it in my head, which once again does't happen very often

(for example: the road trip scene with baby shark was never meant to exist, they were supposed to take the plane, until i got to that scene and realized they were going to monza which is only 4 hours by car so the car made much more sense and the rest is history lmao)

ALSO funny detail about charles's 'what if i'm just a bad dad' speech: originally i had that written (or a form of it at least) for the first time max came over, but that felt almost too intimate for where they were in that point in their relationship and i ended up replacing it with the whole 'fuck you you're good at everything' thing. the bad dad speech ended up in the deleted scenes word document though, and i ended up using a lot of that for this scene :)

alright one last thing about this scene and then i'll shut up about it (listen i wasn't kidding when i said it's one of my favorites): because i knew this was a scene that was going to happen from very early on, there's actually loads of little foreshadowing moments!! for example, max says 'your dad' A LOT (almost every time he speaks to julie. he never says charles, he always says 'your dad'), and my personal favorite, this part:

“Yeah, Julie bug,” Max says, laughter in his voice, “We’re going to hang out for a bit while your dad does some work.”

“Da!” Julie says decisively, and Charles takes that as his que to leave, moving back to his office.

it's the first time julie says 'da', it's right after max says 'your dad' and it's directed at max

no one probably caught that except for me but i had a lot of fun writing it into the fic so that's what counts i guess lmao

but yeah! the dad scene, in all its glory. i'm sorry it made you tear up though but i'm glad you liked it enough to ask me about it <3

[cassandraclare]

The Whispering Room: James’ POV

Here it is finally — James’ POV of the Whispering Room scene from Chain of Gold. I wanted to wait until Chain of Iron was released to give more people a chance to read the book, and also because what we learn in COI does inform the scene. I hope you enjoy!

*art by Cassandra Jean

Cortana wove with her words, underlining each one with steel. She turned as her sword turned, and her body curved and moved like water or fire, like a river under an infinity of stars. It was beautiful—she was beautiful, but it was not a distant beauty. It was a beauty that lived and breathed and reached out with its hands to crush James’s chest and make him breathless. — Chain of Gold

James had felt a strange emotion when Daisy first took the stage at the Hell Ruelle. It was a mix of several feelings...

worry on her behalf, annoyance at Kellington, curiosity, and admiration for her bravery and poise. It was unfair of these Bohemians to force her to caper for them, and, he thought, a bit insulting to Shadowhunters in general. He supposed that Matthew had given them a rather unusual view of what the Nephilim were like in such circumstances.

And then she had begun to dance. And suddenly she was not Daisy, his old friend. She was Cordelia, whose name meant heart, whose every gesture was fire. Every earthly worry he’d had had been swept out of his mind. He was conscious only of Cordelia, whirling back and forth across the small stage. Cortana danced around her, shedding light like embers. The dull glow of the lamps illuminated her body, describing her every movement, her every curve as she danced. Her scarlet hair whipped around her in time to the music, and the golden light of the lamps in the Ruelle slipped across her skin, slow and hot, like beads of honey. The cadences of her voice, rising and falling, seemed to weave a cage of silken thread about her audience, and James was no exception.

Later, James would think it was odd that he had not compared her to Grace. Grace had never entered his mind at all. Cordelia danced, and by the end of her performance, James’s entire life had been disassembled and put back together in a new and different shape. He was conscious of Matthew, beside him, also staring as the crowd cheered, his sharp cheekbones flushed. He looked dazed; James couldn’t blame him.

Cordelia descended the stage and slipped through the crowd to come back to them, blushing at the looks and murmured comments she was drawing from the audience now. James could see the desire in the eyes that followed her. Everyone wanted her. He felt a dull fury. They had no right. They did not know Cordelia. She was more than just that dance.

When she reached them she let out a long breath of relief and smiled. She glowed with the exercise of dancing. Sweat beaded along her collarbones, shimmered between her breasts. Her eyes were bright as Cortana’s blade, strapped to her back.

“Bloody hell,” Matthew exclaimed.  “What was that?”

A look of uncertainty crossed Cordelia’s face. James said, “It was a fairy tale, Math,” and Matthew nodded. His dark green eyes searched Cordelia’s face, as if looking for the key to a locked room he had only just discovered.

Cordelia looked uncertain. James couldn’t bear that. She’d been magnificent; she should know it. But he couldn’t say that, of course. It would only make her self-conscious.

“Well done, Cordelia,” James said instead; when he unfolded his arms; his wrist hurt and he wondered if he’d been clenching his hands.

Cordelia. He hadn’t called her Daisy, and she looked a little surprised. It seemed inappropriate, somehow. Daisy was Lucie’s friend, the Merry Thieves�� compatriot; he found it a smaller name than she deserved. Cordelia, though—she had been a queen, hadn’t she? Queen Cordelia, daughter of Leir, ruler of Britain before the Romans had ever landed on those shores. Like Boadicea, a legendary warrior queen. A blazing white fire behind fathomless black eyes.

“Anna has disappeared with Hypatia,” James said, noting the empty settee, “so I would call your distraction a success.”

Cordelia’s lips twitched into a smile. “How long does a seduction usually last?”

“Depends if you do it properly,” Matthew said, with a wink. James felt it as a spark of relief, a bit of lightness amid the feeling that something heavy was sitting on his chest.

“Well, I hope for Hypatia’s sake Anna does it properly,” James said. He registered, with the reflexes of a parabatai, that Matthew had gone still next to him, and wondered what was wrong. “Yet for our sake, I hope she hurries it up.”

All hint of Matthew’s jocular tone from before was gone. “Both of you,” he said urgently. “Listen.”

Did he mean all the muttering about Shadowhunters? Was he only noticing it now? It had followed them since they came into the place. But when James followed Matthew’s gaze, he found Kellington staring with an expression of vexation, not at them but at the door. All questions were answered as through the door came Charles Fairchild, looking around him with a haughty expression. He looked like was about to raid the place; so much for whatever work Matthew and Anna had done for Downworlder-Shadowhunter relations here.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. “Charles,” he sighed. “By the Angel, what is he doing here?”

Charles was, James thought, probably looking for them. He was making his way through the crowd and gazing around him. Luckily for them, the crowd was not interested in letting him through, and he was moving very slowly.

“We should go,” James said. “But we can’t leave Anna.”

In one way, at least, Charles’s arrival was helpful; it threw a bucket of cold water on the roiling heat that had gripped James’s heart since Cordelia had begun her dance. Back to the matter at hand: a demon, a Pyxis, a plan.

“You two run and hide yourselves,” Matthew said, still keeping his eyes on his brother. “Charles will go off his head if he sees you here.”

“But what about you?” said Cordelia.

Matthew shrugged, but James could see the tension in his jaw and his shoulders. “He’s used to this kind of thing from me. I’ll deal with Charles.”

Not for the first time, James wished that his parabatai wasn’t in such a hurry to sacrifice his own reputation. He exchanged a long look with Matthew, but Matthew was sure, and determined, and his desire to rush into his own humiliation was an issue that would have to wait. Nodding, he turned and caught Cordelia’s hand with his own. “This way,” he said, and she nodded back in acknowledgement. As he pulled them into the crowd he heard Matthew’s voice calling, “Charles!” in a hearty tone of pleasant, if entirely false, welcome.

James didn’t know his way around the place, and the crowd made orientating himself even more difficult, but after some trial and error he and Cordelia managed to get behind Kellington and slip into a corridor leading away. This wasn’t safe in itself, since from the main chamber one would have a clear view down the entire corridor. In fact, they were temporarily more exposed than before, and James’s hope for the hallway to take a quick turn or to contain large statuary to hide behind was quickly dashed. He continued to hold onto Cordelia’s hand, not that he needed to; she seemed to know her way better than he did.

Partway down the corridor, James caught sight of an open door — its silver plaque labeling it the entrance to THE WHISPERING ROOM. Swiftly he drew Cordelia inside, out of sight. He slammed the door behind them, causing a loud noise, but he thought it couldn’t possibly be heard over the crowd in the main chamber. Only then did he release Cordelia’s hand and take stock of their surroundings.

The room was dimly lit, but not cold: a scented fire burned in the grate, filling the space with the smell of sandalwood and roses. It was a study, he guessed, based on the gigantic walnut desk against the wall and the bookshelves opposite, but it was too richly decorated to be solely a place for studious contemplation. Phoenix feathers and dragon scales danced across the gilded wallpaper; there were no windows, but the walls were hung with patterned tapestries, the floor covered with a rug so thick James felt his boots sink into it as he moved further into the room.

Cordelia had leaned her back against the wall next to the door. Her eyes were closed and she was taking deep, full breaths, calming herself down. Cortana gleamed gold over her shoulder; the firelight gleamed a deeper gold on her skin, which seemed to take and hold its warmth. James curled his fingers in against his palm.

He wanted to touch her. He half-turned away, pretending to study the books on the wall. Any other time, he would have been fascinated by the titles. Now they seemed distant, neither immediate nor imporant. He could have sworn he heard his own heart hammering. He said, “Where did you learn to dance like that?” surprising himself with the roughness of his own voice.

His gaze snapped back to Cordelia as she opened her eyes and gave a little shrug. There was something magical about the dress she wore: it followed the shape of her own body rather than the shape of corsetry or whalebone petticoats. It slid softly against her skin as she moved, just as her dark red hair tickled the bare skin of her throat, her shoulders. “I had a dance instructor in Paris. My mother believed that learning to dance aided in learning grace in battle.”

The word grace pierced James like an icicle. He could not quite picture Grace at the moment, it was true; could not quite envision her face. He had given Grace his heart — that was an immutable fact, something he knew as he knew that two plus two equaled four. But he had to admit that at the moment his heart did not feel given. It felt like a thrumming machine inside his chest, pumping blood and heat.

“That dance,” Cordelia added with a quirk of her soft mouth that struck James like a blow to the stomach, “was forbidden to be taught to unmarried ladies. But my dance instructor did not care.”

“Well,” James said, keeping his voice steady with practiced control, “thank the Angel you were there. Matthew and I could certainly not have pulled off that dance on our own.”

Cordelia turned away from him, the smile still on her face, as though she were keeping it secret from him. She trailed her hand along the top of Hypatia’s desk. At one end was a stack of papers held down by a large copper bowl of fruit, and she brought her hand up to trace its rim.

James may have been distracted beyond the capacity for distraction he’d known before, but he was still a Shadowhunter. “Be careful,” he said warningly. “I suspect that is faerie fruit. It has no effect on warlocks—no magical effect, at least. But on humans…”

Cordelia pulled her hand back as though stung. “Surely it does not harm you if you do not eat it.”

“Oh, it does not. But I have met those who have tasted it. The say the more you have of it, the more you want, and the more you ache when you can…have no more.”

Cordelia was looking at him now, and though it took a great summoning of courage, he returned her gaze. In her dark eyes the silver and blue flames of the fireplace danced. James could not catch his breath. He had never felt this before, this breathlessness. It was like pain, but with a sweet, sharp edge. Like licking honey from a knife. He said, in a low voice, “And yet. I have always thought…is not knowing what it tastes like just another form of torture? The torture of wondering?”

The door shook on his hinges suddenly, making a clatter that made both he and Cordelia jerk their heads around to look at it. The knob was starting to turn.

Cordelia paled. “We’re not meant to be in here —“

James’s world closed down to just this: Cordelia was here, she was with him, and she looked frightened. He would do anything to stop that look on her face. He caught her in his arms, and the relief was incredible — he had not realized how much he wanted to be touching her until he was. Until he was holding her, and her strength and warmth and softness were all pressed against him, and her face was so beautiful it hurt, and her lips were parted in surprise and without another thought he kissed them.

He could feel her sharp intake of breath with his hands, clasped together at her lower back. She gasped, but did not draw back, or away — he thought he would have died if she had — she leaned into him, her full lips opening under his. She was kissing him back. He tasted honey, smelled jasmine and smoke. His hand slid up her warm cheek and into the soft fall of her hair.

Time stopped.

Cordelia’s arms were around his neck. Her lush mouth opened a little against his, and the kiss deepened. He moved his hand to the back of her neck to bring her closer. Her teeth grazed his lower lip, and he couldn’t help it; he moaned, and felt her tremble against him.

Very far away, a voice chuckled and the door closed with a soft click. This whole thing had been intended as a ruse, he knew, for the benefit of whomever was trying to get into the Whispering Room. Probably some Ruelle attendees, Downworlders most likely, who had snuck off for a rendez-vous.

Ruse accomplished, then. With intense regret, James drew back from Cordelia. Her hand, warm and soft and wonderful, was against his neck; her fingers stroked his pale white scar. Her eyes were fixed at the level of his shoulder. He could hear himself say her name — Daisy, my Daisy — instead of responding, she whispered, “I think more people are coming.”

He knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t care. He knew what she was saying: that she was asking and giving permission at once. All James’ life, he had struggled for control: control over his sudden falls into shadow, control over the dark world he could see, that was invisible to everyone else. He had worked and fought and trained for control every day, and for the first time in as long as he could remember it deserted him.

The walls he had put up burned to the ground in an instant as he caught Cordelia to him. He groaned against her mouth, his hands slipping over the silk of her dress, the hot satin of her skin. He undid the strap that held Cortana, got rid of it somehow — carefully, he hoped — and let himself fall back into delirium.

He did not ask himself why he had never felt desire like this before. He could not. He was lost in the feel of her, the incline of her waist, the flare of her hips, the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped. They were kissing wildly, uncontrolled; they fetched up against the desk, Cordelia’s back to it.

Her body bent backward in an impossible arch, her hands going behind her to brace herself. Her eyes half-closed, her head fell back, revealing the bare column of her throat. He pressed his lips there, eliciting a gasp of surprised pleasure.

His hands trailed up the sleek material of her dress — he could feel the heat of her skin through it — from her waist to the neckline of her gown. His palms followed her curves until the tips of his fingers were pressing into the bare bronze skin just above the neckline of her dress. She was sleek and soft and hot all at the same time, like nothing else he’d ever touched. He heard her whimper; she was saying his name, and his heart beat in time with her words: James, James, Jamie please.

The please undid him; shrugging off his frock coat, he caught hold of her around the waist, lifting her until she was perched on the edge of the desk. The material of her dress bunched around her knees, her thighs, as she took hold of his shirt by the starched front and kissed him. His mouth drove against hers, hot and demanding, even as he clambered onto the desk after her. She reached up her arms for him and he sank down on top of her, bracing his weight with a hand above her head.

He paused, just for a moment, looking down at her. Her scarlet hair fanned out across the desk, her eyes glazed, her full lips red from kissing. He was cradled by her body, her legs on either side of his hips, her skirt rucked up nearly to her waist. She wrapped her long, bare legs around him and he shuddered. What was in him, what he wanted, was inchoate but insistant, a force he’d never known. A yearning like hot wires in his blood, the pain-pleasurable ache of unbearable wanting that drove him to kiss her again, kiss her harder. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling at it as he kissed her breasts, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin until she gave a low scream and clutched at him with desperate hands.

He sank down against her and kissed her, hot and deep and hard. She arched into the kiss, her breath coming in gasps. He felt her through the thinner material of his shirt: the heat of her, the swell of her breasts against his chest, her hands smoothing over his chest, his sides.

His hands aching to touch her in kind, to find out what she liked, what made her gasp, and do it again and again . . . Nothing had ever felt like this, nothing. He’d known desire before; so he remembered, so he had believed. It turned out he had stepped into a puddle and thought it was the sea. As Cordelia moved in his arms, as her lips, he realized there was a depth to desire he hadn’t even guessed at: that it was more than just desperation, but joy and need and wanting and being wanted back. It was a fever dream, his hands sliding up under the heavy satin of her skirts, the salt-sweet taste of her skin, the soft sounds of her pleasure as she urged him closer, urged him onward, the desk seeming to spin beneath them.

He heard, as if at a great distance, the sound of the door opening. He lifted his head, saw the slim fair-hared figure in the doorway. Ice washed through his veins. Cordelia stiffened, began to scramble to sit up. No, he thought, but he couldn’t stop her, couldn’t blame her. It — whatever it had been — was over.

He slid off the desk. Already the fever was vanishing, that feeling —the glorious freedom from the burden of his own will — receding. Grasping at his control, he drew it around himself,  reaching for his coat, turning to calmly meet the gaze of his parabatai.

“James?” Matthew said.

[melanielocke]

Love will tie the Tourniquet

After some very valid criticism of the Sanctuary scene and the very limited canon Thomastair content I figured I’d write a scene where they talk it out and Thomas apologizes. I wrote this rather quickly and didn’t edit much so sorry for any mistakes.

Title is from “Tourniquet” by Breaking Benjamin which is definitely an Alastair song (although I find the lyrics difficult to interpret). I think it’s from the POV of someone who is struggling with something and realize love won’t fix them, but also believe nothing will. Love will tie the tourniquet and suffocate me. 

CW for period typical racism and homophobia, implied PTSD, mentions of bullying

Alastair was surprised to hear someone knock on the door. His mother was still on bedrest and wouldn’t be receiving any visitors and certainly no one would want to see him. He opened the door to see Thomas Lightwood in the door, hatless as always, snow had fallen in his hair. Even covered in snow Thomas was a beautiful sight to behold. Alastair tried to stop staring, but wasn’t quite sure how. Why was he here, after everything? Alastair had taken his time to think through what happened, but had arrived at the same conclusion, it was impossible. In retrospect, he wasn’t even sure Thomas liked him that much. Like Charles, he probably just saw someone who could fulfill his needs. After all, Thomas had seemed quite disappointed when Alastair had refused to take things any further than kissing in the Sanctuary.

‘Good afternoon,’ Thomas said awkwardly after a silence. ‘Can I come in? I… I thought we should talk.’

A bit hesitant, Alastair let him in and took his coat. He asked Risa to make them some tea, and brought Thomas into the parlor.

‘What did you want to talk about?’ Alastair asked.

‘I wanted to apologize,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘Why? You have nothing to apologize for.’

‘I do,’ Thomas said. ‘I was angry with you because of that rumor, but that gave me no right to publicly humiliate you. I treated you terribly, and you didn’t deserve that.’

Alastair wasn’t sure what to make of this. It had hurt, badly, the way Thomas had spoken to him, but he’d told himself over and over again that this what he deserved. 

‘Didn’t I?’ Alastair asked. ‘I was awful at school, perhaps less so to you, but still. I can’t imagine why you’d even want to be around me.’

‘Because I forgive you,’ Thomas said.

Alastair stared at him, eyes wide. He tried to hold back the tears, but wasn’t sure he could.

‘Why? Why would you forgive me? I thought you hated me.’

Thomas looked confused. ‘After the Sanctuary? After we kissed?’

Alastair sighed. ‘Charles kissed me many times, we did more than that, and he didn’t love me. He just thought I was convenient and I could fulfill his needs.’

It had been mostly about sex with Charles, and it had taken him so long to realize that it didn’t have to be like that. He’d given Charles everything he could, hoping that perhaps someday he’d receive love and affection back.  

Thomas’ mouth fell open. ‘You… you thought I would be like that? That I only wanted you for physical intimacy? Why would you think that?’

‘What else was I supposed to think?’ Alastair snapped, trying but failing to hold back the tears. ‘You wanted to kiss me only moments after you said I deserved to be hated. And because I wanted you, because I love you, I gave in. You wanted to keep me a secret, you were ashamed of liking me, so ashamed you couldn’t tell anyone, not even people who would not mind that you liked men. Just like Charles.’

I couldn’t have told them how I felt about you. Thomas’ words echoed in his head, and it was worse than Charles being ashamed of liking men. At least he understood Charles’ fears, even when it did not justify how badly Charles had treated him.

‘I never meant… I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry, and I said some stupid things. But I don’t want to keep you secret. There were so many things I should have said to you then, and I’m sorry I messed it up so badly. You do not deserve to be hated and I should never have said otherwise.’

Alastair wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He was desperate for affection, always had been, that was why he’d given so much to Charles, but how could he be sure Thomas wasn’t going to be the same?

‘Why not? Did I not cause you and your family terrible pain?’

Alastair was crying now and to his surprise Thomas came to sat down next to him, awkwardly putting his hands around him. Alastair pushed him away.

‘Please… please don’t.’

Thomas backed away as if he’d been burnt.

‘Physical affection isn’t easy,’ Alastair tried to explain.

He wasn’t used to hugging or even being touched at all in a non sexual way. Cordelia tried often to show her affection physically and he was grateful, but it just didn’t always work for him. Sometimes a touch could burn, be so overwhelming he only got worse.

‘What do you need?’ Thomas asked. ‘How can I help?’

‘Just keep talking,’ Alastair said. ‘Please. Tell me how you really feel. Be honest with me. If you… If you don’t really love me, it’s alright. I just need to know. Because I don’t understand anymore. Do I deserve to be hated? To be loved? I don’t get it.’

Thomas hesitated. ‘I was wrong. I was grieving and I was pushing these feelings away and I took it all out on you. But that was no excuse. You do not deserve to be hated, not when you regret what you did so much, and you do not deserve to be treated the way we… the way I treated you. And I’m so sorry. I think I do love you, I just never knew what to do with those feelings so I hid them. But I’m not going to hide anymore. I’m not ashamed of loving you.’

Alastair wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘Are you serious?’

‘I told Christopher, and he took it well. Or, well, he said he already knew and was under the assumption everyone already knew and we just didn’t talk about it. And I told my parents and Eugenia.’

Alastair hesitated. ‘Did you tell them I like men?’

‘No,’ Thomas said quickly. ‘Just about me, and how I feel. And that I’d at least like to have you as a friend, even if you weren’t interested in more.’

‘And your family, they accepted you?’

‘They were very kind and supportive, although my mother did say I might be worse at this whole romance thing than my father.’

Alastair frowned. ‘What did your father do?’

Thomas laughed, and Alastair could only think how beautiful his laugh was, how it lit up his face. ‘As you know, my mother was a servant before she became a shadowhunter, and my father decided to regularly ask her for scones, which he doesn’t like, so he could see her when she brought them. He then hid them under his bed.’

Alastair burst out laughing. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew he had no right to laugh about the people he’d brought such shame to, but at the same time he couldn’t imagine this happening. If Gideon Lightwood disliked scones so much, why not ask for literally anything else?

‘He also accidently blurted out his intentions of marrying my mother in her presence before he even proposed,’ Thomas added. ‘I’m not sure which part is worse, but it does make for good stories.’  

‘I’d say the scones are worse,’ said Alastair, taking a sip from his tea.

‘You’re very beautiful,’ Thomas said suddenly. ‘When you laugh. Also when you don’t laugh, but I like seeing you laugh. You always seem so sad.’

Alastair looked Thomas in the eye. ‘Really? You think I’m beautiful?’

‘Of course I do, who wouldn’t? I love your hair now that you’ve dyed it back to black.’

Alastair felt the tears coming back, and Thomas looked startled. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

‘No, it’s just… No one has told me I’m beautiful. And no one has told me they like my hair. It wasn’t an easy decision to dye it back. I didn’t want to pretend to be something I’m not anymore, but I thought everyone preferred the blonde.’

‘I’ve always liked dark hair, and it suits you well. And I’m glad you’re more comfortable with it. I guess I have no idea what it’s like, to be judged for the color of your hair or your skin.’

‘That’s the second part of what happened at the academy, what I hadn’t told you yet,’ Alastair said sadly. ‘No one there looked like me. They latched onto the rumors about my father, of course but they also treated me differently for being Persian, made fun of my features, my language… I thought it would get better if I adapted more to what they wanted.’

‘Alastair, I’m so sorry,’ Thomas said, reaching out his hand as if to touch him, but retreating. He probably remembered Alastair’s warning, but right now he did want to be touched. Now he knew Thomas did care for him, even if he had an odd way of showing it sometimes.

So Alastair leaned into him, resting his head against Thomas’ chest. It was comforting to feel his chest rise and fall with his breath. Perhaps he did like to be touched sometimes, but only if the other person loved him. There were very few people who did, and Alastair wasn’t so certain if Cordelia loved him anymore.

‘Is this alright?’ Thomas asked, putting a hand around him.

‘It is. It’s actually nice. But Tom, how can we make this work, if your friends still hate me?’

‘Christopher doesn’t,’  Thomas said. ‘He is willing to give you a chance. All you have to do is help him out with his experiments, show some interest, and he’ll like you. Lucie is going to adore you, I’m sure of it. As for James and Matthew… I’m not sure, but they don’t get to decide who I like or don’t like. For so long I tried to hate you out of loyalty to Matthew, but ultimately that’s his issue and not mine.’

‘But what if you lose your friends because of me?’ Alastair asked. ‘I would never want you to lose people you love for me.’

Thomas put his hand in Alastair’s hair, and Alastair thought about how Thomas had said he loved his hair. He’d never considered someone might. Charles had certainly preferred his hair blonde. He had been the one to suggest dyeing it.

‘That would be their loss,’ Thomas said. ‘You deserve to be loved too, Alastair. I will tell James and Matthew when they get back, and if they decide not to accept it, then perhaps they’re not very good friends.’

Alastair was surprised to hear him say that. He���d thought the four boys were exceptionally close, the kind of friendship he longed for but never had.

‘That’s what my mother said,’ Thomas added.

Alastair frowned. ‘Do your parents know I spread that rumor? Surely they would not accept you pursuing me if they knew?’

‘I told them,’ Thomas said. ‘But my father said that when he was young, he’d done worse. He realized he was wrong and changed, uncle Gabriel too. He said it would be hypocritical to hold this against you.’

‘Really?’

‘So far they seem to like you,’ Thomas said. ‘And they are very grateful that you made sure to keep me safe. And… I am too. I never thanked you, but I should have. I am grateful that you put so much effort into protecting me. But please do not risk your life like that again. I would never forgive myself if you died trying to keep me safe.’

‘Only if you promise never to do something as reckless as those patrols again,’ Alastair said. ‘Someone had to keep you safe, and I certainly wasn’t going to let you die because of your own recklessness. Because I love you.’  

They sat like that for a while, Alastair taking in the sensation of being held. He didn’t remember ever receiving such affection, and wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

‘I’m not going to patrol alone again,’ Thomas said. ‘I promise.’

‘Then I won’t follow you as you patrol alone either,’ Alastair said. He paused. ‘I never expected you to come back for me. I never thought you could love me.’

‘I do. I loved you since Paris,’ Thomas said. ‘I mean, at school I liked you as well, but I thought you it was daring that you said whatever you wanted. I saw your sadness too, but not the real you. Not like in Paris.’

‘I certainly did not say whatever I wanted,’ Alastair said softly. ‘I said what I thought I had to so they wouldn’t hurt me.’

‘I can’t even imagine how badly they must have hurt you,’ Thomas said softly.

Soothing words eased some of the pain, but not all of it. Alastair wasn’t sure if it ever would. Love would tie the tourniquet. It might suffocate him. He would have to find another way to starve the pain within, if such a thing were possible.

‘You were treated badly as well, I’m sure you have some idea.’

‘Yes, but you were always nicer to me than to the others, and I think that shielded me from the others as well. Are you going to be alright, Alastair? I want to help you, but I’m not sure I know how.’

‘I have no idea,’ Alastair admitted. ‘But I’m going to try. You make me want to try. I have no idea how though.’

He knew he needed to get better, if he wanted this to work, to find a way to heal from everything that had happened to him. He knew he couldn’t depend on one person to heal him like he had with Charles, someone who had ultimately broken whatever was left of his heart.

‘Perhaps you could talk to uncle Jem,’ Thomas suggested. ‘If anyone can help with that, it’s him.’

Alastair hadn’t considered that. His cousin thought he hated him. He’d reached out once, back when Alastair had attended the Academy, and he’d pushed him away like he did everyone else. He wasn’t sure Jem would still be willing to help him after everything. But perhaps he could try. Perhaps it didn’t always have to be like this. 

[mrs-cavill-wife]

Forbidden Witch (2/?)

Pairing: Charles Brandon X Female Reader

Warning: Fantasy. Language. Forbidden Love. Tell me if I miss something.

Author's Note: This one is REALLY long chapter but here comes Charles Brandon, calm your tits! Hope you guys like it, if you do, please reblog it! I'm all ears to feedback and suggestions, thank you! DM or comment if you want to be on tag lists of Forbidden Witch!

Tag List: @lexyvaldez26 @thereisa8ella @natura1phenomenon @mrsavery @number1chonie @themanfromu @littlefreya @legendarywizarddetective @lovingbearherringhairdo @zealoushound @deangal-101 @everydaymultifandom @summersong69 @jgtfvhsg @tellingyouastory @sillyrabbit81 @nuggsmum @pussyverson @oh-for-fic-sake @foodieforthoughts @fanficlover91 @r-t-doll @its--fandom--darling @poledancingdinos @hlkwrites @rmtndew

Riding for a few minutes, the boy was fun, he had many stories but I was grateful when he stopped chattering. I think this adventure exhausted him.

We arrived in Aluma and it was not difficult to find the castle, in a short time, we were well in freight for the construction. Aretuza was a beautiful place, but I had never seen such a magnificent castle, it was big, people were probably lost there. I approached the entrance and came across three soldiers, who immediately aimed the spears at me.

"Stop! Who's coming over there?"

I looked at them alerting them to stay quiet and I got off the horse slowly, the little prince was already asleep and I didn't want to find him. I think almost turning into monster food was a great experience, he needed to rest.

"Tsc-tsc. I don't think that's how you supposed to treat a lady. Especially when she saved and is in charge of the safety of her future king."

One of them approached to look closely and then looked at the others.

"Go, fast! Let your majesties know, Prince Eric has been found."

One of them ran inside the door, faster than a fox and I, even with the little boy, still had to wait outside. I looked at the blondie, and he slept soundly, hugging my Atlas, as if je were the most comfortable of the mattresses. Which is probably something he must have. Based on the aesthetics of the Castle, they must have everything from the good and the best, and even more.

"Eric! My little warrior!"

A voice, clearly desperate, screamed and, faster than her guard, the queen approached. A beautiful lady, blonde, thin but with curves, a beautiful green dress with gold details that matched with her hazel eyes and, of course, a simple but remarkable crown with rubies on the top of her head.

She approached me and the little boy, affectionately touching her face and then brushing her hair with her fingers. Her features were clear, pure happiness, relief and tears that I think, have been there since the little boy ran away. Eric woke up quickly with his mother touch and smiled softly, still tired.

She grabbed the boy, without caring about his soaked clothes, giving him a giant bear hug while sobbing.

"Oh my little prince, why? You know how worried your Mom is when you run away like that."

She said now looking at him with teary red eyes. I have to admit I felt bad for her.

"I think I'll have to put soldiers in to watch you again"

Again? Yeah, he didn't lie, and by the nickname "little warrior", I think he was really a little adventurer and a big runaway kid.

"Mom, I'm sorry and I'm fine. The witch saved me. Without her, I would be monster dinner right now."

Said the little troublemaker and after the brief moment of mother and son, the queen noticed me, gave a big smile and I bowed in respect, but she soon shook her head and held my hand.

"You, my young lady, no need to bow. You saved my son, my greatest treasure, you don't know how grateful I am. What's your name?"

I didn't knew exactly what to say. I looked at Eric and he just smiled comforting me.

"Oh.. your majesty.. I'm Cassandra, Cassandra of Boudicca.. and I just.. I just did what any sensible person would do."

"One way or another, me and your majesty, the king, we are very grateful, and by the way the king would love to meet you."

Meet me? Oh Lord, I can't say no to a queen, right? She's being so sweet with me but I'm even dressed properly to meet a king?

"My queen.. I.. well.."

"No no, I'll be offended if you refuse"

I sighed and nodded. The soldiers led the way and the queen took me into the huge castle, holding my right hand and with her son by the side, but within minutes he ran into a room with large wooden doors, apparently the throne room.

I thought we would get in there but the queen is still walking and I had no choice but to follow. We arrived at a door, it was opened and it was a beautiful room, with a huge bed that would probably fit three people, a nice balcony, a dressing table, a shelf with some books. The queen took me to the room on, had a huge mirror, a beautiful bathtub, prepared with some foam and next to it, a black girl with a simple dress, braided hair and a beautiful smile.

"This is Juliette, one of my chaperones, she's a wonderful lady, she will help you bathe and get ready."

The lady Juliette bowed at me and I looked surprised at the queen.

"Your majesty, that's not necessary, I.."

She cutted me before I could say something more.

"Darling, you can call me Madeline and maybe it's not necessary but I asked my man to treat your beautiful horse and I think you need too, besides.."

She grabbed a little cloth and gently rubbed under my nose wiping it. Something a mother would do. And I saw a little of blood when she pull away the cloth. Fire spells always consume a lot of my strength, occasionally, my nose would start bleeding and on the worst situation, I would pass out.

"..You look very exhausted, please, let my lady help you.."

Alright, maybe I need it and won't hurt, right?

I nodded causing the Queen and her lady to smile widely at me.

"Huh.. At least, lady Juliette, can she let me take care of my bath? By myself, please? I don't want to be disrespectful to your kindly, but I'm not used to undressing in front of anyone."

The queen smiled softly and nodded at Juliette and soon, she were our of bathroom.

"Darlin, one question. What's your favorite color?"

"Black!?"

I answered a little confused and she left me alone in the bathroom. I undressed and went into the warm water.

I would not feel comfortable naked in someone's presence, at all, even if I were a man.. I imagine that some people think I can be experient, I admit that I have a beautiful body, at least I think that I'm beautiful, attracts many masculine looks, I have been courted but always by men who saw me with a piece of meat or out of curiosity to know what spell a witch knows how to do between four walls. Pathetic.

The truth is that I have never been with a man, I have never fallen in love. When I was younger, I used to imagine what my future husband would be like. I imagined your details, I remember everything I liked.. He would be a tall man, defined body, fair, strong, sweet, romantic, noble, fair skin, blue eyes like the sky in a spring morning, dark hair like the night, short or maybe curly, lips chubby that would always leave me wanting more, hands that when..

Oh my God, stop Cassandra, you're not a teen anymore.. and it's not going to happen.

I blew away those stupid thoughts and got up from bathtub, grabbed a towel and wrapped around my body. When i arrived on room, I meet Lady Juliette, holding a box and next to her, on the bed, a simple, but for my eyes, a really gorgeous black dress.

"Oh my God, that's..?"

Lady Juliette laughed softly and opened the box, revealing a necklace.

"The queen want you to wear this for tonight. She thought you would like the style and it's also a gift for saving her son"

I don't wanted to sounds dramatic but it's beautiful, the dress, the necklace. I grabbed the dress and ran back to bathroom to get dressed. I admired myself on the mirror for a second and quickly, Juliette was behind me, helping me with the necklace.

"By your smile, I see you approved. The queen will love to know. Your majesties await for you on the throne room, I'll lead the way."

I nodded and followed Juliette to the throne room

Charles Brandon POV

Another beautiful morning. I woke up and rubbed my eyes, yawned getting up and wearing a shirt. I went to the window, opened the curtains and let the sunlight in. Oh, fresh air. Honestly, I could not have chosen a better place to be my home, in freight to a beautiful and immense river, around the splendid nature, far from the city, that noise makes me crazy, horses running, people screaming, songs out of tune, poor people begging for help and old "relationships" knocking on my door. That's peace right here.

I looked to the side. Seeing my wife, Phoebe and my little princess, my daughter Mackenzie. Christ, she is growing up so fast, she is only six years old now but she is a very smart little girl, loves to read, write and draw. She is the most special thing in the world for me.

I remember when Phoebe told me she was pregnant, four weeks after our wedding. I have always been a man who lives in the present, the now. But at that moment, I cared about the future, about me, about being a better man, something I never was and my wife suffered a lot from it, she would pretend to don't mind sleeping all alone almost every night, pretended not see me arriving late, often drunk, lipstick and sweat on my skin. Today I don't like to talk but, loyalty was never on my list of tasks, not before Phoebe give me someone so innocent, so sweet and pure, someone who depended on me. There's a Charles Brandon before Mackenzie, and another Charles Brandon after Mackenzie, and long before that, long before I met Phoebe, I was just a farmer's son.

How do I become Duke? Well, I was always in love with horses and swords, my father died when I was little and my mother was a queen's lady. I practically lived in the castle because of my mother's work, and this work, gave me a chance to see the soldiers training, fighting, riding, I just loved it and the captain ended up realizing my admiration, despite my young age, I became a helper, simply started carrying things, gave a little help with the horses. My dedication took me far, in a short time I cleaned the armor and then I was sharpening and testing the swords and when I really became a man, after my mother died of natural causes, with the blessing of King Edward, I became knights, soldier, one of the best.

Going to war was incredible for me, it seems sick but I liked to cut off heads, tear apart, see blood and defend the kingdom that treated me like a son. King Edward had a best friend, a king from a distant continent. King Alexander. On one of his visits, there was a feast, and that's when we met. That same night, there was an ambush in the castle and unfortunately, the king in which I served since I was a child, was murdered, as well as several soldiers, I remained standing, even injured and saved King Alexander.

After all that, King Edward gave me a lot of support. He knew it was a big loss for me, I lost a lot of friends and he knew that King Alexander was almost like a father to me. He knew of my dedication and love for the royal guard, for being a soldier and he invited me to be part of his soldiers. I was reluctant but after thinking a lot, I really had nothing else, nothing to lose so, the next day, I am already on my way to Aluma, his kingdom. There I met his wife, he told me they were trying to have a baby, they hoped it was a boy, an heir, I honestly, I always thought it was bullshit but I wouldn't say that, I was treated like a son.

For a few years, I exercised my place in the royal guard, I became a captain, and of course, the title attracted several lovers. Redheads, brunettes, blondes, fair skin, black skin, a whole meal full of colors and tastes.. each dawn I got up from a different bed, and "finally", I met Phoebe, a young lady, from a noble family. At first, it was just a carnal thing but it ended up becoming a passion, and soon, we were married. Being a captain, having a wife and being a party boy. My favorite things in life, but they were colliding. Phoebe suffered from wondering if I would return alive from a battle and the other night, she slept alone while I had fun with some harlot. It got to the point where I realized that it couldn't be like that anymore, I had affection for the woman who woke up more than I want in me, so I made the decision to relinquish my post as captain of the royal guard. King Alexander tried to insist that I stay, it's true that we ended up becoming great friends but he ended up understanding my decision.

As a thank you for years of loyalty to him and his best friend, he gave me a title and his best builders would build my home, wherever I wanted. I chose, Sullfolk, a beautiful continent, full of nature. I became Charles Brandon, the Duke of Sullfolk.

"Daddy?"

I leave my daydreams of the past, hearing that sweet voice of my dear Mackenzie. I looked at the bed and saw her with a sleepy face and a smile in my direction. I walked over, sitting next to her on the bed and placing a kiss on her messy hair.

"Good morning, sunshine. how did my little princess sleep?"

"Good daddy, are we traveling today, right?"

I laughed softly nodding at her. Since King Alexander sent a letter, inviting me and my family to Aluma, my little Mackenzie is not holding on to happiness, she would ask me every night, "When are we going? It's closer daddy?".

It would be her first trip, she would know the place of my stories that she loved to hear. It would be a visit, it had been a few years since Alexandre and I had seen each other and he said he would prepare a banquet, talk about the old days, it would be fun for my family, a chance for Mackenzie to know a new place and Phoebe would review the place where he was born. In fact, we were all in stasis.

"I'll get ready and tell our servants to put our breakfast. Wake up your mother and meet me in the dining room. After we eat, we go to the road."

She smiled widely causing me the same action of affection and I left the room.

[echotrinityme]

Regretful Chapter 9: Let Me Love You

After Rupert's outburst, his and Henry's relationship has been strained. Henry was avoiding Rupert at all cost, and that hurt Rupert. Rupert tried to call or text him but received no response. Everytime he saw Henry in the base, Henry would immediately bolt to a different direction.

Rupert felt so much guilt and regret for blowing up at him, he didn't mean the words he said about Henry. He was angry at the fact that Calvin kissed him and it wasn't him that was doing that to him. He either spent training or in his tent, away from everyone else to brood or contemplate his life choices.

One day while in his tent, he was sitting on his bed, playing with his pocketknife when Victoria walked in. She smiled at him and he smiled back but didn't reach his eyes, she sat next to him and patted his back to comfort him.

"How are you doing?" she asked, softly.

"Terrible." replied Rupert, lowly.

"I can tell."

"I feel so guilty. And I know I deserved it but I didn't mean to hurt him."

"Have you tried to explain?"

"Yeah but he wouldn't listen."

Rupert put down his pocketknife and put his hat down to hide his face, he was trying hard not to cry. Victoria felt pity and sadness for him, she knew Rupert felt guilty about hurting Henry. He said those things in a fit of repressed anger cause of Charles' death. She also knew Rupert and Henry were the ones that Charles' death hit the most.

"Hey, it will be all right." reassured Victoria, gently.

"How?" questioned Rupert, his tone still low.

"Henry can't stay mad at you, forever."

"Yeah, I guess."

Rupert sighed heavily and lifted his head to look at Victoria, "But this wouldn't have happened if I wasn't so jealous."

Victoria on the outside looked surprised but on the inside she was not, she had suspected Rupert was jealous and now her suspicions are now confirmed.

"Do you love Henry?" asked Victoria, gingerly.

"Uh...I." replied Rupert, hesitantly.

"Do your days feel better when with him?"

"Yes."

"Are you attractive to him?"

"Yes."

"Do you fantasize about him?"

"Ye-What the fuck, Victoria!?"

Victoria laughed at Rupert's reaction whose face was red in embarrassment, he never expected Victoria to ask that question. Yes, he fantasize about Henry...a lot. It also didn't help he had wet dreams about him which made him more red.

"Quit it." muttered Rupert.

"I'm sorry, it's just so funny to see your reaction." giggled Victoria.

"Please, don't tell anyone about this." pleaded Rupert.

"I promise."

"Ok."

They both stopped talking and just sat silently. Rupert exhaled sharply and he got out his phone to check his notifications, still no word from Henry. He groaned in frustration and he got up, startling Victoria in the process. He went to the entrance of his tent but Victoria stopped him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Out." replied Rupert, tone clipped.

"Ok. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

Victoria let Rupert go but after a moment, she forget to mention to him about her mission to get him and Henry together.

Rupert was walking out the base and as he was walking, he stumbled onto the town that was near the base. He was walking around the town when he spotted a jewelry store, he peeked at the window and saw a black choker with a blue sapphire jewel at the center. It was so beautiful and perfect for Henry.

He contemplated for a moment, he misses Henry and he wants him back. He made a decision and went inside the store.

Meanwhile with Henry, he was in his bedroom crying and hugging himself. He was laying down and staring up at his ceiling, his head pounded and his eyes stung from the excessive sobbing. He groaned in sadness and got up to go get aspirin, he went to the bathroom to get the pills.

Henry's POV

My head hurts, I feel like crap. I'm tired of crying and I hate feeling vulnerable.

I thought my heart couldn't get more broken but I was wrong. Ever since Rupert's anger outburst, I had been avoiding him. I even been ignoring his texts and calls, I can't face him...not now.

I took the aspirin and went back to my bed, I lay back down again and stared up at my ceiling. I sighed sadly and began to close my eyes until I heard a knock on my door. I groaned in anger and went to answer the door, when I opened my door and saw the last person I want to see right now.

It was Rupert.

Rupert's POV

After I went to the jewelry store, I headed back to the base. I held an item in my right hand and put in my pocket.

Once I got back to the base, I waved to a couple of people and took out my phone to try to contact him again but decided to just go ever to his place.

I headed over to his place quickly and ascended the stairs to his apartment door, I knocked on the door and waited like a minute when he opened the door.

He did not look happy to see me...not that I don't blame him.

No One's POV  

Henry stared at Rupert for a moment and glared at him, before he can shut the door on him, Rupert stopped him with his hand and boot on the door. He gave Henry a pleading look, he needed to talk to Henry.

Henry saw the sadness and remorseful on Rupert's face, Henry felt pity but was still angry and heartbroken at him. Henry contemplated for a few minutes and decided to let Rupert in, he led Rupert to his couch and they both sat on the couch.

There was a heavy silence and the tension was so thick, you can cut it with a knife. Henry refused to look at Rupert while Rupert kept staring at him, he knew he screwed up badly. Rupert cleared his throat and Henry glanced at him blankly.

"I'm sorry for hurting you." started Rupert, his voice wavered. "I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

Henry was listening and observing Rupert's body language, he was trembling, he was clutching his fists, and trying hard not to cry.

"I took my grief out on you." he continued. "It's not your fault that Charles is dead."

"But..." spoke Henry, softly. He was finally using his voice, making Rupert's eyes widened.

"Oi." said Rupert, gently. He grabbed Henry to hug him before Henry can protest. "It's not your fault, it's the Toppats."

Henry leaned into Rupert's chest and he began to sob, Rupert hugged him tightly while he cried. Rupert felt his eyes blurred with tears and he also started sobbing.

They kept on hugging and sobbing, Rupert was whispering apologizes to Henry and whispering comfort words.

They both ceased sobbing and they both wiped their eyes. They both sighed heavily, Rupert cleared his throat making Henry look at him.

"Are ya ok? Are ya still mad at me?" asked Rupert, softly and gently.

"Yeah and no, I'm not mad at you." replied Henry.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"But I hurt you, real badly."

"It's fine...I don't blame you. You're just grieving like I am."

While Henry was talking, Rupert was listening to his voice. He never realized that Henry's voice was so...soothing.

Henry was never a talker, he has selective mutsim and prefer using sigh language to talk. However, he opened up and began to talk more.

"Yeah." said Rupert. He needed to tell Henry why he was angry in the first place.

"Oi, there's an another reason why I blew up at you."

"Oh, what is it?"

Rupert turned away from Henry, he was nervous about telling him the truth. Henry noticed Rupert's anxious state and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I...was...jealous." mumbled Rupert.

"What?" said Henry, quizzically.

"I was jealous." replied Rupert, firmly.

"Jealous? Of who or what?"

"I was jealous of Calvin for kissing you."

Henry was confused for a moment until he felt his face became warm, Rupert's face also became warm. It's now or never, he supposed.

"I have feelings for you." admitted Rupert, softly.

"Oh."

Henry bowed his head down, not letting Rupert see his red face. Rupert mistakenly took that as a rejection, "It's ok, if you don't feel the way same way." said Rupert, sadly.

"I still want to be friends with you." he continued. "It's fine."

Rupert was rambling until he felt a hand on his cheek, he turned to see Henry looking at him and smiled.

"I have feelings for you, too." whispered Henry.

Before Rupert can say anything, Henry leaned forward and kissed him. Rupert's eyes widened but pretty soon, he closed his eyes and kissed him back.

Henry's hand was still on Rupert's cheek and Rupert wrapped his arms around Henry's waist. They kept kissing until they stopped to breathe, then they went back to kissing.

Their tongues fought for dominance while they both moaned in pleasure, Henry wrapped his arms around Rupert's neck and started to play with his black, spiky hair until a noise interrupted their make out session.

Rupert growled in frustration and Henry whined from the absence of Rupert's lips. They both turned to find the source of the noise is from Rupert's phone.

Rupert checked it and he sighed in annoyance, it was Victoria who needed to talk to him about something.

"Ugh, I gotta go." said Rupert, still annoyed. "Victoria needs me for something."

"Ok." replied Henry, sadly. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah."

Rupert got up to leave but almost forgot something, "Hey, I want to give you something."

"What is it?"

"Close your eyes."

Henry did as he was told, while his eyes were closed, he felt something being tied around his neck.

"All done." said Rupert, happily. "Go look in a mirror."

Henry opened his eyes in confusion and went to a mirror, he gasped as he saw a beautiful choker with a sapphire pendant in the middle.

"Do you like it?" asked Rupert, shyly.

"I love it." replied Henry, breathlessly.

He went to hug Rupert and he kissed him on the cheek, making Rupert blushed in the process.

They both said their goodbyes and they both had never felt so much happiness in a while now. A/N: I was gonna write smut in this chapter but decided to write in the next chapter.

[romancing-lady-whistledown]

S6 overall thoughts

What I loved

- Lola. While no Skam-main will ever reach the levels of love and attachment I have to Lucas Lallemant, I think that especially concidering that Lola was literally introduced in the last scene of S5, her being my second favorite main of the show is quite an accomplishment and I think Flavie deserved alot of the honor for that. She needed to catch my attention right away, and she did.

- Eliott. Although I have a big complaint about how the later part of his storyline was concluded in this season which I’ll get back to, I still loved what I saw of him. With all his lovable traits and his flaws, to me he felt as well-rounded and lovable and interesting and relatable as I always found him. I loved seeing him get to direct, act in and eventually show his first ever movie, I loved that he got to talk about his illness again in the Luquette-clip, and I also loved how the video-store became a safe place for Lola to go when things weren’t going well with her family or with Maya.

- The Lecomte-sisters. Easily the best executed part of this season. Even as someone who hasn’t been the biggest fan of Daphne since S4 even I still felt their connection through the entire season and it was definitely my favorite love story in this show after Elu’s in S3, although an entirely different type of love.

- A lot of the clips. Although Skam France unfortunately struggle with solid narratives with satisfying endings, they are amazing at creating moments, and this season had a ton of clips and moments that I loved, still probably outweighing the number of clips I didn’t like so much.

- The acting. Skam France owes so much of their cast, they are really carrying the show.

- The cinematography. The blue and purple aesthetic was perfect for this season, and I also loved the red aesthetic of Eliott’s video store alot. I have never had a problem with Skam France’s cinamatic look, in fact that’s one part of their style that they really rock and that I really like even though it gives a totally different vibe from og Skam.

What I liked that could’ve been better

- Mayla’s storyline. The chemistry was there and I liked them, but I didn’t fall in love with them. I think it’s something in how their development was written. The romance was very much a side-plot in this season, which I’m not complaining about because I think it was fitting for Lola’s story, but a side-plot romance like that just didn’t need the Char-drama, especially after we already had Maya avoid Lola for a week. The development of the relationship just kinda lost me somewhere along the way so I unfortunately didn’t grow to love them the way I wish I did. 

- Eliott’s arc. While I’m happy with what I saw from Eliott, his arc doesn’t feel fully completed. The sad thing is it would’ve been so easy. If they just gave Eliott and Lola a longer conversation about the club incident and one POV clip for Eliott and Lucas to talk about the insecurities that were brought up, that would’ve made a world of difference for me. And concidering how short episode 9 was there was time for that, so it’s not like I’m bitter or anything.

- Most of the storylines tbh. Like I really found most of the storylines in this season interesting, I really wanted to see them play out and get to a satisfying conclusion. But because of the way they chose to use their time, so many of those storylines never lived up to their potential, and it’s frustrating.

What I didn’t like

- The ending - This isn’t really so much about the last clip which was cute and all, although I have some complaints about it (Why did Charles have more lines that Lucas? Why did they drag S5 down with a love triangle just for Alexia and Arthur to suddenly get back together in the finale? Why miss the opportunity of a Lucas/Jo interaction when you’ve basically been setting up what could be a really funny scene all season? Shouldn’t Lucas and Lola at least exchange a look after the fight they had? Shoudn’t Eliott at least send a look in the direction of Mayla after he pushed so hard for Lola to bring Maya to the premiere?). But my main problem is about how significant storylines were left without a satisfying conclusion. Yes, there was alot of stuff going on in this season but also there was some poor use of the time they had, by either wasting time on unnecessairy and undeveloped side-characters or making the episodes short for no good reason. A lot could be done with that time. The angst kept going all the way into episode 10 and that shouldn’t be the case when you have this much to wrap up and you wrote this as if it was the last season of the show. In S3 there was angst in episode 9 and a tiny bit at the start of episode 10 when Eliott had his depressive episode, but since they already had wrapped up all the other conflicts in episode 7 they could focus almost entirely on giving that storyline a fullfilling and satisfying conclusion. 

- The lack of communication - the truth is that alot of the issues brought up in this season would never be fully resolved in 10 weeks. Lola’s addiction-problems, Daphne’s eating disorder, Eliott’s insecurities. That won’t go away within the timespan of a season, all we can hope for is to leave them in a better spot where the future looks hopeful. But we can have conversations about these things, and while I’m glad we at least got confirmation that both Lola and Daphne are getting professional help, so many conversations about different issues and between different characters were missing for this season to wrap up in a truely satisfying way. 

- The unnecessairy side-characters and the side-plots that came with them makes their own point on my list of things I don’t like because when I see them all I can think is how they took time away from giving the other stories better conclusions. I’m talking about Tiff and Char. I can see what their roles in the story were, I can see what purpose they were supposed to serve. Tiff and her squad served as a contrast to Lamifex at the start of the season, but then she was also dragged through the rest of the season with a cyberbullying plot that had very little impact and this whole thing was dragged out until the very last episode. As for Char, she sure pushed Lola to admit her feelings to Maya but I don’t think we needed her for that and I think having Maya and Lola making up after Maya avoided Lola for a week only for her to immediately start dating someone and kinda start avoiding her again was a poor use of time, both in the Mayla storyline and in the season as a whole.

- Making the episodes in the second half of the season super-short while the conflicts kept piling up was...a choice. And certainly not one I agree with looking at how everything concluded.

The short version is: I enjoyed alot of it, it was definitely the most I’ve enjoyed watching a season of Skam France since S3 because the parts I loved I really loved, so I would rewatch S6 over S1, S2, S5 and most definitely S4 any day. But the last portion of the season left me highly unsatisfied, both as an ending to Season 6 and as an ending for the original generation of characters. Yes, I know the last sequence of S5 was supposed to be the goodbye to the original generation, but that doesn’t make the situation any better to me because that scene, while there was a type of beauty to it, was just as underwhelming and unsatisfying as a goodbye to those characters as this clip was, and this was the last time we’ll see them. It’s of course bitter because there is so much lost potential to explore in alot of the og characters and even a 5 minute clip for each couple/single character could’ve made a huge difference there, which makes it harder to let go of the characters than it would be if the ending was at least somewhat satisfying. But on top of that it leaves a bit of a bad taste in my mouth that it shows a certain lack of respect for the attachment the audience as a whole (not just the most passionate fans like us but even the more casual viewers) have to the original characters. I don’t think they can ever satisfy everyone but this kinda just feels like a “Get over it and move on” kinda attitude and it definitely doesn’t make me feel any more enthusiastic about investing in their new characters and seasons. Because for me the strength in this show is in the characters, they’re what keeps me interested when the storytelling is weak which happens...quite a bit. 

[charlessmithhasmyheart]

Hiya!! Can I request Charles x fem reader having a baby together and Charles trying to figure out being a good dad❤️❤️ ( like getting advice from Abigail or something )

A/N: Hey! Wow...I can’t believe this took me so long to complete. Life has been pretty hectic lately, but I’m doing my best to come back into a regular schedule of writing, so apologies for all of that. But, I do hope you like this. I made it more of a Charles POV, because...why not. Anyways, enjoy! :)

P.S. - I know that this is kinda short, but I’m trying not to fry my brain too quickly as I get back into writing. And it’s a bit jumpy I think right now, so eventually this will be something I revisit, but...yeah...I’m gonna stop rambling now.

———————

“Look momma! Flowers!”

“I see, Melody. Shall we go pick some?”

Charles watched from where he sat piecing together arrows for his bow as you led your daughter to a patch of flowers growing near Beechers’ Hope. Bright yellows and pinks sprouted from the green grass. Small pops of colors among the earthy tones. Melody, a wild thing at such a young age, grabbed the closest she could find and he chuckled as she turned to give them to you, the biggest grin on her face.

The day had been surprisingly good. The rainy season had subsided and the three of you had been able to go on an official family outing for the first time in months. He remembered how excited you and Melody had been; spending a good part of the morning preparing a picnic lunch. Melody had done her best to assist, but eventually her mind wandered, leading her to beg Jack for a story.

As Charles watched Melody drag you towards another patch of flowers, he couldn’t help but reminisce on the first few days of her birth. It had come quite unexpectedly; your contractions starting weeks earlier than normal.

To say that Charles had been nervous was an understatement. His usual calm and collected nature had disappeared; replaced with a frantic, pacing, stammering mess. It had taken the gentle coaxing of Mary-Beth to calm him down, and Arthur had taken him out for a ride to clear the mind, though his thoughts only seemed to return to you and his soon-to-be-born child.

What seemed like eons later, the two had returned to camp just as you were finishing the last few pushes. Charles, trying to push away the resurfacing anxieties, had rushed to the tent, shoving past Tilly and Miss Grimshaw. He hadn’t even noticed the small bundle cradled in your arms until he had crouched down next to you where you had stretched out on a small cot. But when he did, his heart nearly stopped.

The child, which they would later name Melody, was absolutely perfect; dark eyes, small locks of black hair, and olive skin. The two of you spent the rest of the night in awe of the child the two of you created. It wouldn’t be for another week before Charles realized his nerves would carry over from beyond the birth.

It was a rainy day, not much able to be done save for a few washing chores, so Charles was able to spend most of the day with you and Melody. You were cooing and rocking her while he was piecing together a make-shift doll; something he hoped you would enjoy. As time passed, Melody become fussy and began to cry. Charles, normally calm under stress, had started, becoming unnerved. He hadn’t wanted to, but the crying of his child brought back memories of his time with his mother’s tribe; specifically the last few days before she, and many others, had been taken. When you had attempted to place Melody in his arms, he had jumped up from his seat and dashed out of the tent, deaf to your calls of alarm.

Ignoring the rain that began to slowly soak into his clothes, he had found himself under the shelter of a large tree near the edge of camp. There, he eased down on the damp grass, crossed his arms overs his knees, and placed his head on his hands. He had stayed like that, lost in thought for so long, that he had hardly noticed when the sound of footsteps began to get closer and closer.

“Charles, are you alright?”

It took a few moments before Charles had looked up to see Abigail standing over him, a worried look on her face. He wasn’t one to open up to others, especially those in the camp, but Abigail was one of few he could trust.

“No, I’m not.”

Abigail sighed and sat down next to him, adjusting her shawl to better cover her shoulders.

“I think I can probably guess what this is about.” She spoke carefully. “You’re worried about Melody, aren’t you.”

Charles blinked slowly, startled that someone could read him so easily.

“How did you know?”

“I felt the same exact way when my little Jack was born.” Abigail smiled softly. Charles noticed her eyes darkened as if she was remembering something she hadn’t wanted too. “I know our situations aren’t the same, but I’ve been were you are. Afraid of the future. Wondering if you’re truly ready to be a parent. The fear is real, but I think it’s proof that eventually it’ll turn out okay.”

“What am I supposed to do? I’ve never not known before.” Charles confessed.

“I’ve been Jack’s mother for four years, and I’m still asking that question.”

Charles couldn’t help but grin.

“No one’s ever said parenting is easy, but you just have to trust in your love and the love of your family. And if you can do that, you’ll be just fine.” Placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Abigail stood back up and disappeared among the inner camp.

Charles still couldn’t remember how long he had sat there under the tree, the rain filtering through the green leaves, as he contemplated everything Abigail had said. But eventually he had found his way back to the shared tent. You hadn’t moved, still cradling Melody, but when Charles entered, you had come to stand before him; tears in your eyes and a question on your lips.

“I’m sorry my Morning Dove,” Charles uttered. “I didn’t mean to worry you, but I’m better now. And I’m ready to make my future with you and our child.” He continued, brushing his strong fingers across your cheek. “I love you now, and I’ll love you even when things get tough. And right now, that’s all we need.”

[phenomenal1500]

The Blood In My Veins | Black Sails

Chapter 47: Forced To Be Someone I'm Not

For Chapter 46: Right Time, Right Place click here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I will."

"Good luck, Jack." I patted him on his back before letting go and there he went, away from me, leaving me all alone in a civilised world.

~~~

Right when the next day started, I was pulled into a small bedroom and was ordered by the governor to dress myself as a proper formal woman.

Immediately, maids were measuring me to probably make a dress or find one that would suit me and they had against my will undressed me and dragged me into a hot bath. The hot bath wasn't such a problem though. It felt nice to relax for a moment and being clean felt refreshing too. I had a moment to think and hope Flint, Anne and Charles would manage to save Jack from his hell as I laid my head back. Eventually the maids came back and I got handed over a normally common red dress when I was commanded to come out of the relaxing bathtub and cocky I shook my head towards the maids.

"If I have to blend in your 'perfect' civilised world. I want it more.... uncommon, more my style." Without hesitation the women nodded at me and they left the room with me in it, all alone.

Sighing, I almost crumbled to the ground, still naked and wet.

I had been forced to live a life I didn't want to live so many times and I finally thought I was free from it the day I decided to become a pirate. I had fought for the freedom to be my own person, but it seemed like all that effort was thrown away just like that.

I knew when this was all over, I could go back to who I was, but it felt like what I feared was coming true. Becoming one of those judging, fancy whores under a governor's or king's command.

After an hour of trying to keep the tears at bay because of all the bad thoughts, one maid walked in on her own. She laid a beautiful long 'Circassian-like' white dress with gold embroideries onto the bed and held out her hand to help me raise to my feet.

"I'm sorry if the girls are picking on you. They simply hate pirates-...."

"And you?" I raised an eyebrow at the black haired woman.

She didn't look like one of the governor's maids, she was rather very familiar to me.

"I don't, I'm working with a resistance.... and when I heard you were here, it was better to pay you a visit." She slowly smiled at me and I nodded back.

"What kind of resistance?"

"I work together with Captain Vane and Augustus Featherstone. I told them where the exchange was taking place, my name is Idelle."

"You spoke to Charles?"

"Yes, he was worried. Sadly, the time the three of us spoke, I didn't know about you being here so that's why I couldn't reassure him you were safe."

"I hope they find Jack so he can give the message I'm unharmed, but being mentally tortured by this island." I weakly laughed.

"Well, put it on." She stared enthusiastically at me. "I don't know if you like the feeling of a dress though."

"Dresses have a lot of disadvantages.... that's why I don't wear them, but they aren't that bad." I explained to Idelle and straightened my back as I covered my body with a blanket. I was getting cold.

"Well, this one doesn't have a corset."

My head shot up.

"Look, that sounds way better, doesn't it?" My mood had cleared up a bit seeing a face that is in the same 'resisting civilisation' state as I was and with effort tried on the dress.

~~~

(POV Charles Vane)

Shooting the last man standing, he stumbled back and bled out on the ground before I and Anne hurriedly made our way to the carriage which had crashed on the hand of our unannounced attack.

Anne had kneeled down before the window and I quickly followed, spotting Jack laying lifeless under a few wooden beams. Taking a deep breath, I saw that Anne had also removed her face cover and concerned watched Jack covered in blood. When she almost lost hope, her eyes grew wide and I smiled when we heard Jack groan in pain and move his fingers. With speed, Anne had taken action and gasped before she made her way through the carriage to Jack, kissing him desperately.

"Ow." Jack complained and Anne just chuckled while I climbed in as well, handing the cache over to Flint and Bones so they could bring that somewhere safe.

As Anne tried to get Jack free around his wrists I instead had put an iron stick between the chains and the place where it was bound to, pulling the stick towards me with the hope I could break it.

"We need to move, now!"

"Go!" Grunting, I shortly responded.

"Go?"

"Take the chest to the beach. We'll be right behind you." I groaned, putting all my force behind trying to get my friend free.

"Right behind us?" Flint didn't trust me and was worried about us, I could hear it in the way he spoke up and I stopped pulling, jerking my head the way Flint was standing.

I knew he didn't want to leave someone behind, but we came here for Jack as well and he needed to be released.

"Yeah." I reassured and continued my work, a terrible sound hearable.

In the corner of my eye I could see Flint nodding at us before he left us behind in the carriage.

"I thought you said you and Nassau were through."

"Got worried you two'd be lost without me. Glad to see I was wrong about that."

"I was locked up with Naida. She's safe now. I helped her regain her freedom inside Nassau without her having to take the pardon." My head shot up and suddenly my face started to automatically smirk. I must say that was the best news I heard in a couple of weeks and out of a sudden all my rage was gone, except for the one towards Rogers, still for capturing my woman and taking Nassau from us.

Man, hearing she was unharmed eased my mind a bit.

"Thank you."

"You love her.... and she has been nothing but a good friend towards me and Anne." He smiled, probably happy to not see me terribly stressed anymore. "And Teach? How has he taken your change of heart?"

"Couldn't say. If you see him, I suppose you could ask him." I spoke through my grunts as my arms were getting more exhausted as the seconds passed. From the distance I could hear Flint and Bones disappearing by the fading of their horses' sounds and I started to work harder and faster. Time was running out after all and when I was almost there, Jack clamped his chains so it would break easier and within a small amount of time afterwards, he broke free. I climbed up the carriage to jump from the top to the floor so I could help Jack to get out from the outside of the carriage and he groaned in pain as I supported him with walking.

"Look." Jack stated and then we heard it, the horses whinnying and redcoats sitting on top of them.

[askforimagineoroneshot]

Let me heal you (Professor Xavier x reader)

Anon: Hi, I wanted to ask you if you could do X men imagine? Like professor Xavier, where he is in a wheelchair and in relationship with the reader. She is a mutant and has the ability to heal people but she gets super weak when she does something big like a broken bone - she can even die. She wants to heal him, he said no because he is worried about her. You can come up with the end. Thank you!! I love your writing. Maybe you like X men too.

Gifs are not mine. Imagine is!!

Hope you like it and I really hope that it's like you imagine it to be. 

It took me a time to got it. Even to know how to do it but I think I got it. Enjoy 

MASTERLIST 

Y/N's point of view

“So kids please remember your assignments for the next class. Look at it, most importantly read the parts of the book I told you to.” I stood up from my desk. I was looking at a classroom full of young mutants. “You can go. That all for today.”  

All of them got up and pack their things. Most of them got another class after mine. But I was free for today. I was teaching here because first I was teaching literature and I am as well mutant. 

My mutation is not visible on my body. I had the ability to heal. People, mutants of even plants. How I find out about it actually when I was young and playing in the garden and I found a bird with a broken wing. I didn't know what I was doing. I just wanted to pet him but my hand did something incredible. I felt warm and then the wing got back into a position where it's supposed to be. 

Long story short now I am teaching kids with abilities. But it feels like just kids. Because that what it is. They don't make difference between them and human kids so why should I?

I was able to leave the class, no-one was there, at least form kids, and I realize I was watched. From the door by a man in a wheelchair. I smiled. 

“How long have you been watching me?” I asked with a smile. 

“Not for long, love.” His blue eyes have light in them. I felt like I could drown. 

“How was your day so far?” He continues to have a conversation with me when we walked through the halls of the school.

“It was fine, classes okay I guess.” I didn't know where he was going with the conversation.

I didn't want to look nervous. He would never read my mind. We were together for a long time. We knew each other since college. Before we even told each other truth about each other. I also knew Raven even longer. She introduces us. It feels like forever. I don't know who I would be if I didn't meet them. 

“You're a very popular teacher among students. I don't know anyone who doesn't like you.” 

“Well, I don't know what to say to that.” I went faster so I can open the door for Xavier. He went to another hall. 

“Do you have some free time today?” He asks me with hopeful eyes. 

To be honest. We didn't spend much time together lately. But I have a good reason to do so. Yes, I am going besides his back but for good. I was careful about it so it wasn't suspicious.  

“Yes, I have. You want to spend time with me.” I smiled at him. 

When I looked at him I could see all the reasons I fell in love with him. How he cared for others, how he loved others. The list can go on and on. 

“I have somethings I need to finish in my office but I would love to spend some time with you in the garden.” 

Since I knew where he was going I stopped in my track. 

“I need to go to my office to so.” I smiled a started going backward. “See you outside.” 

“Very well.” He smiled. 

I didn't hear the wheelchair so I knew he was watching me leave. God, I hated the wheelchair. To know him and his need to go outside and explored nature and the world. All I ever wanted was for him to be happy. Even when it meant I was in danger. Don't get me wrong, I am got in healing people, but the energy I use for it is coming from my body. I am putting myself in risk if I do something big. But I need to help him. Even when he is against it. I don't care. Seeing him like this every day? What him how he looks at the kids in the garden from far. Not being capable to go out in the field. 

I got my stuff in my office. I also change my top, so I feel fresh. I brushed my hair. Then I got the key to the secret box on my desk. I knew it wasn't fair and that itś not only my decision but I need to do it. 

I took out a small ampul with drugs. It was safe. If I give it to Charles he will be fine, just a little out. He will know what is going on around him but will not be able to change anything about it. 

I got one out of the box and close it again. I got up and went to Xavier's office.

I didn't nock. We are used to each other. I saw him by his desk, working on some paper. 

“I thought you wanted to go out.” I laugh. I was standing by the door. 

“I want to, love.” He put down his mug of tea with a smile. “I thought you had something to do. Like you said.” He moved in his wheelchair from the desk and we went outside. 

“Whether is beautiful isn't it.” I look in the garden. 

“Yeah it is.” he is right next to me with a smile on his face. We were at the balcony it is easier for Charles this way. 

“It could be even better you know. I could make it better.” I need to try it again. I wanted to do it with his consent. I broke my heart to do this way.

“Please, love, you know I am not going to let you do it.” he was no longer smiling. “Just because my legs I am not going to risk your life.”

I wanted to try to talk some sense to him but Hank walked to us. He was happy to see us. So I stopped. I didn't want him to know about our fight. Fight? Well, it is not really a fight. More like a one-sided conversation. 

Later that day

I was making tea for Charles. It felt like tears were burning holes in my heart. I just wanted him to be happy. I am doing the right thing. I know that. 

Just stop thinking about it and do it. That's what kept running through my head. 

I ported drugs to his tea. There is no way out of here now. I also put honey in it. Just like he wanted to. When I pick the mug up, it felt a lot heavier than normal. I knew why and I knew it was just in my head. 

“Thank you, love,” he said when I put to his desk. 

Sun was already down. I don't know what time is it. 

“You work too much,” I said to him when I sitted on his desk. I was watching him smile when he drinks. 

“No, love, you just worry too much.” He kept working on papers. I didn't really know what he was doing. All I did was to focus on my mind, to not let him in and I tried to relax as much as possible. 

Nobody knows what I was about to do so it is all up to me. 

It didn't take long and Charles felt sleepy. “I feel weird. 

“How weird?” I asked to not be suspicious. 

“Just really weird. It's hard to move my body. Or what left of it is in my control. 

“Let me get you to bed. I will get Hank. I don't like this.” I took control over the wheelchair. I started to cry I didn't even realize. 

I help him in the bed. “Why are you crying, love? I am sure I will be fine” He tried to make me feel better. 

I looked at him with tears it was hard for me to see. When he was in the bed I felt like I can do it. I am not taking a step back. 

“Yes, you will. I will make sure of that.” I said. I knew he will understand what I meant. And by his face, I knew he just did. 

“What did you do?” He wasn't scared of me. He was worried about me. “Please don't do this. I maybe lost my feet but I am can not bear to lose you.” He was now crying too. 

But I didn't care. I needed to start. 

I could feel the energy going out of my body to his. I could sense where it was going and what it was doing. The process went on and on. Charles was feeling it as well but didn't know how to handle it. He was no longer able to try to convince me to not do it. 

After a few minutes, I could feel my weakness. Normally I would stop and rest but now I couldn't. I was starting to lose control over my body. I felt pain. I tried to hold on for as long as I could but it took me to don't. 

Xavier's pov

Week later

I could still hear her scream out of pain. It was in my head like it happened yesterday. But it didn't. Week passed and now I am standing by her bed where she is unconscious. Yes, I was standing. But alone! 

“How is she doing?” I asked Hank that was taking care of her. I was here every day.

“She will be okay. She just needs time.” He said.

For a moment room was silent. “I understand why she did it.” He said.

“You can't be serious. She could kill herself.” I was not able to be angry anymore. I just needed her. That was all I wanted. 

“I know why are you angry. This is one of the situations that doesn't have a right and wrong side.” he looked at me. “You just need to wait.” 

And then he left. So I sit on bed nest to her weak body. She looked so pale and small. I petted her hair. 

“I wish I could be angry with you.” I took her small hand in mine. “But I just want you with me. I need you with me. That's why I never wanted you to try to heal me. It was way too risky. And now look where we are.” 

I kissed her forehead. “Just woke up, please love, I am begging you.” 

And then I felt her hand move. It was weak and almost nothing but for me, it was a moment I knew she was coming back to me. Then her eyes start to open. She looked superposed at first. Didn't know where she was so she panicked a little. 

“Love, it's okay. Look at me.” I stood up to be closer to her. “It's alright.” 

When her eyes found me she looked happy to see me. When she realized that I was standing she started to cry. They were happy tears. 

“You're one stupid girl. Look where you are.” Now I was crying too. She tried to talk to me but I didn't let her. “No, rest love, just rest. You are really weak. It's okay, I got you.” I hold her close to me.

[bedlamsbard]

you've probably been asked this before, but-- thoughts on jedi fallen order? your star wars meta/fic/etc is always my favorite and i'm very interested to hear what you think of the new game!

I liked it a lot!

So, as I’ve said before, I haven’t played it; I watched a playthrough on YouTube about a week or so after it came out, so I’d gotten spoiled for it despite trying to avoid spoilers, and the particular playthrough I watched actually had the sound cut out on two of the big scenes, so that was a disappointment.  Watching it rather than playing it means that I definitely missed some things that I’ve seen people mention about it, and I’d like to play it at some point if I can get the tech to cooperate, though that likely won’t be for a while.

I was a little wary about Cal Kestis going in because of the comments that the creators of the game had made about not wanting to have a female/POC/alien main character, but for me Cal was good enough, sweet enough, and interesting enough to overcome that.  I really liked how much weight JFO gave to trauma, living with it, and overcoming it, with Cal, Cere, Merrin, Trilla, and the other characters.  Obviously the poncho is Peak Star Wars, and BD-1 is very sweet.  And I love Inquisitors.

I know JFO has gotten some criticism for being ~yet another padawan survivor story, but Cal is so distinct from either Kanan or Ahsoka that that’s not really how it feels to me, and I think his interaction with Cere, Trilla/Second, and the Ninth Sister really make his story unique compared to the other two.  I love the beginning of the game; it’s such strong world- and environment- building, and the strong sense of Cal’s personality really comes through in his introduction (headphones, blasting music, “I’m trash, I’m just not approved trash” -- he’s peak 2019 gen Z, in my millennial POV).

As far as the actual plot goes, it’s *flips hand* pretty much eh.  It’s a MacGuffin and there’s no way around that; it’s also revisiting plot points from TCW and the Charles Soule Darth Vader comics.  I can understand why Lucasfilm would want to continue to revisit that particular plot point but also, I’m tired of it.  As far as JFO goes, the MacGuffin is mostly an excuse for the journey, which was...interesting.  There are parts of it I really liked; sorry, my dumb brain loves gladiatorial fights even if that probably wasn’t, like, necessary.  Kashyyyk was fun; it’s fun to see Saw Gerrera again even if I’m also kind of like “dude, you haven’t changed your armor in fifteen years?”  I enjoyed seeing Dathomir again even if I have mixed feelings about the choices made insofar as the worldbuilding, but Merrin was really wonderful.  The Zeffo...I still feel that the Zeffo, aesthetically, belong in Stargate rather than Star Wars; their actual use in the game also felt a bit more Stargate rather than SW, for me?  I mean, they’re also a MacGuffin, but I suppose insofar as SW go they’re on the same order as Loo Re Anno’s species from the Han Solo comic or the Rakata from the EU, so not really something that doesn’t have a place in Star Wars.

The Inquisitors. I love Inquisitors.  I don’t necessarily love these Inquisitors. I unfortunately got spoiled for the Second Sister’s reveal as Trilla/Cere’s former padawan, which kind of affected how I felt about her, and I’m also in the FB cosplay build group for Second and it’s a little cutthroat, so that affected it too.  She’s...fine?  Something about her just doesn’t hang together for me, and I can’t quite put my finger on what it is at the moment.  The Ninth Sister has such a strong personality from the Darth Vader comics, and while she’s in character between the comics and the game, it also means I was a little taken aback by her abrupt ending.  (And I note that it feels a little weird that Trilla gets the name and the tragic backstory and the personal attachment and the not-actually-redemption, but Ninth doesn’t get any of those.)  It was also weirdly surreal for me to see the Fortress Inquisitorius, a.k.a. the canon version of the Crucible from Backbone, but tbh I think the decision to put it on another planet/moon(?) in the Mustafar system actually weakened it.

I got spoiled for Darth Vader’s appearance and that was one of the places where the sound cut out on the playthrough I watched, so it didn’t quite have the effect that it probably would have done had I gone into it cold.  That said, Cal and Cere should probably be dead; as I’ve seen pointed out, Vader hasn’t been allowed to kill anyone of significance in the new canon, which kind of undercuts him.  (The closest he’s come has been Jocasta Nu in the comics.)

All right. The ending. I don’t like the ending. Not because I really thought that Cal and Cere should have refounded the Jedi Order, but because I feel like they put the destruction of the holocron in the wrong place; I think they should have destroyed it to keep it away from Vader.  The conscious decision made not to re-found the Order is really uncomfortable for me, especially in light of the way that the new canon has treated the subject over the past couple years.  I was talking about this with @reena-jenkins a while back, so I’ll just copy and paste what I said there.  (Note that this was back in November, before TROS came out.)

(I’ve cut most of Reena’s responses and a little bit of other conversation we were having.)

So yeah, I have some problems with the ultimate ending decision, but as usual a lot of it comes down to how that intersects with other plot lines that Lucasfilm has done over the past five/six years.

Another thing I kept thinking of throughout the game was something one of the creators said -- either in an interview or at SWCC earlier this year, I can’t remember which, that there was a lot of debate on where to put the hyphen in Jedi: Fallen Order, i.e. that it could have been Jedi Fallen: Order (though title-wise that doesn’t stand up as much).  I do like how much emphasis there is on “fallen order” -- the Jedi Order, of course, but also the Nightsisters, the Zeffo, the Inquisitors and Purge troopers as a kind of twisted version of the Jedi and clone troopers, even the structure of the Republic being corrupted into the Empire.

One thing that took me by surprise with JFO was also how much intersection it had with Galaxy’s Edge!  Not to the extent that I would have noticed it if I hadn’t already been to Galaxy’s Edge, but having gone and also having the kind of brain that literally just absorbs stuff and then retains it.  Like, for example, the Galaxy’s Edge sporks that are now no longer used because people kept stealing them; they’re used in one of the meals on the Mantis.  Cal remaking his lightsaber and using the parts you can get at Savi’s got picked up by a couple of news outlets; I think this is actually a bit unfortunate, because they went for the Galaxy’s Edge lightsaber proportions for many of his lightsaber options and in my opinion, those are less elegant proportions than usually seen in Star Wars, so it ends up looking clumsy to me.  Another proportion thing that follows Galaxy’s Edge -- the holocron, both Cere’s and the MacGuffin holocron; the Galaxy’s Edge ones seem to be proportionally a bit bigger than the holocrons seen in Rebels and TCW, and the ones in the game follows Galaxy’s Edge rather than TCW/Rebels sizing. The Nightsister zombie crate in Galaxy’s Edge may also be a JFO reference rather than a TCW one, though obviously it could also apply to both.

I really enjoyed the Clone Wars/Order 66 flashbacks, though actually Order 66 was ANOTHER place the sound cut out!  I told you that it was the most dramatic reveals where I lost sound!  I loved that Jaro Tapal was a Lasat; I also like that, as far as I can tell, some of Cal’s specific movement types (wall-running and his tendency to be like “cool, gonna climb that”) seem to be more Lasat-inspired than other types of Jedi movement we’ve seen before.  I really like the design of Jaro’s lightsaber; I remember in the promo I was confused about the fact that it didn’t seem to be proportional to Cal, but of course it’s not!  It was made by a Lasat for a Lasat!  Order 66 is always such a mess -- and actually, I’m struck by how different Cal’s and Caleb’s experiences of it were?  I think one thing that the game made clear to me is how lucky Kanan got, in all ways.

The ending is obviously setting up for a sequel; I don’t really think Cal and Cere should have survived, but it we get a decent sequel out of it I guess I’m okay with it.  I know I’m missing details in this review, but I really did enjoy watching it; I liked the characters, I liked the worldbuilding, I think it did some really intriguing things even if I don’t agree with every decision made. (And, selfishly, I like my Inquisition better than the canon one.)

[thefloorisbalaclava]

All That Really Belongs to Us Is Time - Arthur Morgan x Belle Kennedy - Chapter 2

A/N: Belle is adjusting as best as she can with a little help from Arthur, of course. Next chapter will be from Arthur’s POV!

Chapter 1

She did not sleep. How could she? The realization that she was actually here…in 1899...was almost too much to handle. She had hoped she would wake up in her own bed in her small flat back home but no such luck. Colter was her home. For now.

That man, Arthur Morgan, had told her he'd get her home but what was she supposed to tell him? The truth was out of the question. Maybe she could sneak away and find another way…

The knock on the door made her jump and stand up quickly. “Yes?”

“Miss Belle? It's me...Arthur, I mean,” he said from outside the door.

That made her smile. “Um...you can come in.”

He pushed the door open slightly and she nodded. “How'd you sleep?”

“I didn't,” she admitted.

Arthur was silent for a time as if he was trying to think of the right thing to say. “You hungry?”

“Do you cook?” she teased.

He chuckled. “No ma'am, I leave that to Mr. Pearson.”

“You know, you can just call me Belle. There's no need for the Miss’ and Ma'ams.” She stood and walked over to him, taking in his appearance. He was taller than any other man she knew and she felt dwarfed by him the longer she stood there.

“It's how I was taught. Can't help it.” He shrugged and she nodded.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, Miss Belle, I think it's time we got you introduced to everyone.” He was about to open the door when she remembered something.

“Your coat,” she said, walking over to pick it up. “Thank you for letting me wear it.” She held it out to him.

“I think you better keep that for now. Until we find you some warmer clothes at least.”

“Won't you be cold? I don't want you to get sick because of me.”

He held the door open for her and shook his head. “I'll be fine. After awhile you really don't feel it anymore.”

Belle walked slightly behind Arthur as he led her to the food. She noticed a few other people standing around the pot and she realized how nervous she was. Most of them smiled warmly or nodded but there was one who seemed to ogle and glare at the same time. When he spoke, she immediately knew that they would never get along.

“You and Charles went huntin’ last night and brought back a darkie...a mulatto it looks like. That your kinda food, cowpoke?” Belle's mouth dropped open and she balled up her hands. She couldn't believe what she just heard.

“What did you just call me?” she asked calmly though she was shaking from anger.

“Shut your damn mouth, Micah,” Arthur said standing up taller.

“I'll shut it for him,” she said quietly from behind Arthur. He turned to her and shook his head. “What?” He smirked and turned his attention back to Micah.

“This is Miss Belle and you will address her as such or else we're gonna have a problem.” He wasn't looking at her or else he would see how she smiled.

Micah walked closer to her and Arthur immediately moved directly in front of her. Micah put his hands up and began talking. “Well, Miss Belle, guess I better listen to Arthur here. Wouldn't wanna cause any trouble.”

“Seems to me that you like trouble,” she murmured.

“Hm, maybe I do.” He winked at her before walking away.

“I don't like him,” she said to Arthur.

“None of us do. We can't figure out why Dutch keeps him around.” Arthur picked up a bowl and began scooping food into it before handing it to her.

“Thank you. Who's Dutch?” She thought about it for a moment then it came to her. “You can't mean Dutch van der Linde as in the Van der Linde gang?”

“The one in the same. So you heard about us back in...wherever it is you come from?” He waited for a response but Belle wasn't exactly sure what to say.

“Uh...yeah…”

“Look, I don't care about where you're from or what you done if that's what you're worried about. We all done bad things and I ain't one to judge. I understand runnin’ from somethin’ because I've been doin’ it all my life.” Arthur spoke with such sincerity that Belle had to blink tears away before looking up at him. “I thought I'd introduce you to some of the ladies. I'm sure they can help you more than I can.” He led her over to a table where a few women sat and they all looked up to smile at her.

“Well, she sure is pretty Arthur,” one of the women said. “She stayin’ with us?”

“Yes, Miss Jones, that is until she wants to go home. I'll leave you ladies to it.” He nodded and walked away and Belle followed his movements until he was out of sight.

“Where'd Arthur find you?” Miss Jones asked.

“I was...lost,” she said looking around at the women nervously. “I'm Belle, by the way. Belle Kennedy.”

“I'm Karen,” she started then went around the table to introduce everyone else. “That's Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Molly.” The redheaded woman turned to her and smiled lightly.

“Hi everyone.”

“I hope you didn't get lost followin’ a man,” Molly blurted. “They certainly aren't worth it.” She stood and left, leaving all the other women to stare after her.

“Don't mind her,” Tilly said and Belle smiled. It was nice to see a woman who looked like her out here. She felt safer somehow. “So you said you got lost?” Belle nodded and tasted her food. “Doin’ what?”

“Uh…”

“You ain't gotta tell us,” Mary-Beth chimed in. “We all have stories we'd rather not tell. Its okay.”

Belle felt herself on the verge of tears. She cleared her throat and stared down at her bowl. She still couldn't believe she was here. How was she even here? Time travel is impossible!

“Are you okay?” Tilly asked and touched her arm gently. She flinched and noticed everyone was looking at her.

“Yes, I'm fine. Sorry. I was lost in thought.” She could never tell them about what though.

“I think bein’ lost in your thoughts is much better than reality sometimes,” Mary-Beth said with a smile. “Makin’ up your own stories is fun and excitin’.”

But this wasn't a story though it was playing out like one. Belle was sure she had read a book and watched a show about a woman being sent back in time and falling in love. Her life was not a book, though. Nor was in a television show. This was real and she couldn't fathom how it was possible. She should have never touched that damn journal.

That was it! Belle sat up straighter as the idea fleshed itself out. If she could find a way to get to Arthur's journal she may be able to get herself back where she belonged. He kept it in his satchel though and that thing never left his side. She would think of something.

“You ladies bein’ nice to Miss Belle here?” Arthur asked seemingly out of nowhere. She had no idea he was even making his way over. Lost in thought. Making up stories.

“Of course we are. It's you fellers we're worried about. I already seen Micah givin’ her the eye so you better watch him,” Karen pointed out.

“The rat looking one?” Belle asked and everyone laughed. “I'm not afraid of him.”

“We all gotta watch our backs around Micah,” Arthur said. “I'll never understand why Dutch keeps him around. He don't cause nothin’ but trouble.” Arthur's gaze landed on Belle and she smiled. “You hardly ate anything,” he said concerned.

“I was, uh, too busy daydreaming.” Belle looked down then sniffled. “Please excuse me.” She stood and walked quickly to the treeline, steadying herself on one of them as she sobbed. She couldn't do this. She was terrified. She thought back to the survival training she had but nothing could have prepared her for this. Being sent back in time was so much more than survival.

Arthur cleared his throat behind her and she continued to cry, keeping her back to him. “You all right, Miss Belle?” She heard some shuffling then he tapped her on the shoulder. “Ma'am…” he said handing her a handkerchief over her shoulder.

“Thank you, Arthur,” she said sadly. She shivered then hugged herself as if crying had made her realize just how cold it was.

“You look cold. Let's get you inside.” She turned to him then and moved closer, feeling his warmth. “I let you keep my coat for a reason.”

“I know.” She walked beside him and he kept his steps small so she could keep up. “You know, you're pretty amiable for being an outlaw.”

“I'm a what?” he asked.

“Amiable. It means friendly and pleasant.”

“Oh, there ain't much that's pleasant about me, ma'am.” She was about to speak again but he spoke first. “You ever gonna tell me where you're from? You sound like you come from one of them fancy, civilized places where they use words like a-ami-...”

“Amiable”, she laughed.

“Yeah, that one.” He walked her back to the small cabin she had stayed in last night. He watched as she slipped his coat on then sat on the bed, hugging herself again. “You mind?” he pointed to a chair and she shook her head.

“Arthur...there are things that you'll ask me that I just won't have an answer for. I'm just...not from around here. I'm from far away. Very far away. It's a very different place.”

“You miss it?” he asked.

“More than you know.” Her voice cracked and she turned away to look out the window.

“What Micah said...what he called you. I best not repeat it but are you?” He leaned in ready to listen to whatever she had to say.

“You mean mulatto? Yes, I am. My mother is black and my father is white.”

“Was your mother a...a slave?”

Belle almost became angry at that but she reminded herself that she was in a different time. “No. She was free and very independent. I think that's what my father loved so much about her.” She chuckled thinking about the way her parents danced around the living room. “They are very much in love.” When she looked back at Arthur she noticed he was smiling. “Does the word love make you smile that way?”

“Hm? Oh, I...uh...I guess so.” The truth was he smiled because she had.

“Do you believe in love?” she asked and he to look away.

“I want to,” he admitted. “Love ain't so easy to come by for a man like me.”

“Or maybe you just haven't found the right one yet.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “Have you, Miss Belle?”

She shook her head. “No, sir.”

The silence stretched for awhile until Arthur finally spoke, standing slowly with a groan. “Me and Charles, we gotta go huntin’ again.”

“Can I go?” Belle asked, standing with him.

“I don't think that's a good idea. Beggin’ your pardon, you don't look like the huntin’ type. The way me and Charles found you...you weren't even dressed for the weather.”

“That wasn't my fault,” Belle said angrily.

“Not your fault? Whose fault was it then?” Arthur asked, confused.

“I don't know! I woke up and I was there!” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I don't know what I'm doing here but...I have to do something. If I just sit around I'll just think about...everything and upset myself.”

Arthur nodded. “Okay. C'mon, but keep that coat on. Can't have you gettin’ sick.”

“Right. Thank you, Arthur.” She had never been hunting before but she did know how to shoot thanks to her father. She was also pretty good with a bow and arrow thanks to that archery class she enrolled herself in. Never in a million years did she think that class would come in handy.

She followed Arthur out to the wagon where Charles was already waiting. “Miss Belle is joinin’ us today,” Arthur told him.

“Do you hunt?” Charles asked her.

“No, but I can shoot.”

“How good are you with a bow and arrow?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Pretty good I guess.” She climbed into the wagon while the two men rode in front.

“You sure you're comfortable back there?” Arthur turned to look at her.

“I'm fine.” She hunkered down and hugged herself wrapped up in Arthur's coat. The further they moved away from camp, the more beautiful things became. The snow fell lightly and landed in her eyelashes as she looked up to the sky. She stuck her tongue out and giggled and Arthur looked at her with something akin to amusement.

“You never seen snow before?” he asked.

“Of course I have just not up in the mountains this way. It's beautiful.” The snow covered trees moved with the wind and Belle closed her eyes. In her time, she would probably be inside enjoying a cup of hot cocoa while watching an old film or two. Right now, though, she was going hunting.

“Look at that,” Arthur said quietly and she turned in the direction he was pointing. A huge stag walked among the trees. “Charles, let's stop here. There's gotta be more around.”

The men climbed down and Arthur walked around to lift her down from the wagon. “Thanks.” She backed away from him only to bump into Charles. “Sorry.”

Charles held out a bow and arrow to her. “Let's see how good you are.”

“You want me to...to kill it?” she asked sadly.

“How else will we get food?”

The supermarket, she thought. She took the weapon from him with shaky hands and followed the men closely. The boots Miss Grimshaw had let her borrow were already soaked through and her feet were going numb but she tried her best to keep up.

“Try to hit him from here.” Arthur held his arm out to stop her but she was too busy looking around to notice. She stumbled and nearly fell but Arthur wrapped the same arm he held out around her and held her steady. Close. Too close. He cleared his throat and let go quickly, stepping back and fixing the hat on his head. “Gotta watch where you're goin’.”

“Sorry.” She tensed as he stepped behind her and pointed out the family of deer. “Oh.”

“Told you there were more,” he whispered. She looked over at Charles who was smirking as he prepared his bow and arrow. “Show her how it's done, Charles.”

Without a word, Charles aimed and shot the arrow hitting one of the smaller deer easily. “Your turn,” he said as he turned to Belle.

“Uh. Okay then.” She lifted the bow and loaded the arrow, closing one eye. Suddenly, she felt a gentle touch on her arm. It pushed slightly and she lifted her arm a bit more. “I can do this.” She inhaled and pulled the string back. On the exhale, she let go and the arrow went flying, hitting its target. She yelped happily then covered her mouth almost immediately. “I did it?” She looked at the men excitedly. “I did it.”

“That's...somethin’,” Arthur said looking in the direction of her shot and shaking his head. “You got somethin’ you wanna tell us?”

“Huh?”

“You say you never been huntin’ before but you just made a perfect shot.” He looked at her suspiciously and she shrugged.

“Beginners luck I guess. What now?”

“Now we go get ‘em and bring ‘em back to camp.” The men began walking in the direction of the deer carcasses but Belle was rooted to the spot.

“I'll leave that to you two,” she said watching from afar. Both men lifted the deer as if they weighed nothing and she had to admit she was impressed. Once they loaded the deer onto the wagon Belle decided it was best that she rode up in front with the men this time. She settled between them and rode in comfortable silence back to camp.

The snow had picked up by the time they made it back and the men were quick to get the meat to the cook, Mr. Pearson. “This is great. Thanks fellers,” he said as the men hung the meat on hooks.

“It wasn't all us,” Arthur quipped. “Miss Belle here is pretty damn good with that bow.”

“Well, Miss Belle, thank you too,” Mr. Pearson said with a slight nod.

“You're welcome.” Without warning, Arthur pulled out his knife and began cutting into the deer. Belle gasped and covered her mouth but couldn't look away. She would have to get used to it, wouldn't she? This was her life, her way of living now. Soon she might be the one gutting an animal.

“You should go get yourself warm,” Arthur suggested, wiping his brow carefully so as not to get blood on himself.

“I think I will,” Belle said. She walked to her cabin but something told her to look back. When she did, she found Arthur looking at her. He looked away quickly and got back to his work and Belle smiled to herself as she walked inside and closed the door.

Belle took off her wet boots and started herself a little fire--something else she learned in that survival training class. She stripped down to her shift to leave her dress to dry and wrapped herself in Arthur's coat. It didn't smell good but it didn't smell bad either. It smelled like him and that was quickly becoming a comforting thing for her. She curled up on the small rug by the hearth and watched the fire. It wasn't comfortable at all but she soon found her eyes became heavy and she could no longer stay awake.

[janiedean]

nebraska is the title song from bruce springsteen’s eponymous 1982 album, which is incidentally the objectively best record he’s ever put out or at least it’s in the top three and about everyone agrees about it in some kind of miraculous conversion of fan and critics’s opinions.

nebraska is not just a turning point in springsteen’s career, as it was the first time he put out a record which was pretty much bleak/depressing material with not much of a way out of it and a great stylistic change from his usual as it’s all voice, guitar and harmonica, to match the bleak atmosphere of the songs, but it’s also a damn gem of a song that everyone should listen to, so please let me have a go at it. ;)

now, background: nebraska is about real life serial killer charles starkweather, who in turn bruce learned from while watching terrence malick’s excellent movie badlands (guys y’all really should watch it it’s REALLY GOOD!). tldr, this dude at nineteen took his 14-yo girlfriend around nebraska and wyoming for a week or so and killed ten people and was then sentenced to the death penalty, and that’s all you need to know on the subject. bruce was interested in the story, researched it and wrote the song about it and put it as first in the album to which it gave the title, and that should already suggest you what you’re signing up for. but now on to the lyrics, shall we?

I saw her standin' on her front lawn just twirlin' her baton Me and her went for a ride sir and ten innocent people died

the opening is reminiscing of the malick movie we discussed before - the scene with the girlfriend twirling her baton is lifted right from it, and gives us an excellent summary of the entire song because bruce is good at summarizing things: you know that the protagonist, as the song is in first person, sees his girlfriend on the front lawn, takes her into his car and they killed ten innocent people. now, if you aren’t listening to the song you don’t know that he’s singing it in an extremely flat voice in such a way that he seems extremely detached from what he/the POV of the song has done, which makes the entire effect even creepier. so, what happened on the ride?

From the town of Lincoln, Nebraska with a sawed off .410 on my lap Through to the badlands of Wyoming I killed everything in my path

here we have another example of how good is bruce at painting a very vivid picture with ten words - we know where they left from (lincoln nebraska), we know what weapon he used (the .410), and then he went through the badlands of wyoming killing everything in his path, which if you know how the badlands of wyoming look, should give you a pretty damn good idea of the scenery. if you’re like jon and sansa stark and failed geography, I’ll remind you:

suggestive, huh? so, he has you visualize the entire thing while singing flatly and without emotions about a guy who went on a murder spree without many emotions about it himself. which is made clear in the next line:

I can't say that I'm sorry for the things that we done At least for a little while sir me and her we had us some fun

so: he’s not sorry, and he sees it as having had some fun. now, usually people who murder even one person without wanting to have life-lasting trauma because of it, because I assure you, no one likes murdering people in general. just a thought. then again if you look up starkweather he seemed to think he was above the law and to have a fairly nihilistic worldview according to which *dead people are all on the same level* so we can assume that mr. starkweather had definitely issues that no one had noticed/most people would have overlooked in the year of the lord 1958 and that went untreated resulting in the murder spree.

anyway, they got caught as it was bound to happen, which then results in the next passage:

The jury brought in a guilty verdict and the judge he sentenced me to death Midnight in a prison storeroom with leather straps across my chest

now, bruce doesn’t really waste much time with the trial because even if we didn’t know shit about the story before we might have guessed that he’d be captured/sentenced the moment he said he killed a bunch of people, so what we know is that they sentenced him guilty and to death too, and when he says leather straps across my chest we also know it’s an electric chair even if he doesn’t have to say it, and then you also get the midnight in a prison storeroom visual that gives you an idea of something fairly sordid and carried out in a haste when no one can see for how horrid the entire situation is. the entire point isn’t even making you empathize with him because you’re not supposed to... but the entire picture it paints is supposed to make you feel really, really creeped out including being in the head of an actual mass murderer, which is usually not a place where you find people feeling sorry or re-elaborating their trauma tied to their actions, because this guy certainly has no trauma related to them nor feels sorry about it. which we can see for true in the next bit:

Sheriff when the man pulls that switch sir and snaps my poor head back You make sure my pretty baby is sittin' right there on my lap

as in: when he talks to the sheriff in extremely blank/flat terms about his own death (pulls the switch/snaps my poor head back, poor being the only thing that suggests us he actually has feelings about it) the only thing he wants (which cannot happen obviously) is that his pretty baby is sitting on his lap, which considering that starkweather was 19 and she was 14 when the entire thing went down makes the entire thing sound really fucking creepy as it should sound. but that is what he cares about. not the people he killed, not his guilt, not any consequences of what he might have done, just that his girlfriend is there to see him die - which isn’t a thing he gives much of a fuck about anyway. and at this point you're wondering, what’s the point. well, the final stanza is giving you the point, even if he could also not giving you any point and it would still hold up because that’s entirely it, the guy killed people because he could and because he was angry, not because there was a point.

They declared me unfit to live said into that great void my soul'd be hurled They wanted to know why I did what I did Well sir I guess there's just a meanness in this world.

aaaand now you get the whole actual Meaning Of The Thing thrown in your face in three lines which need a lot of unpacking, but in order: they declared me unfit to live has a not so slight implication that it’s wrong for someone to decide who’s fit to live or not... which then in turn is kind of ironic coming from someone who killed ten people because he could, but that doesn’t make it any less true that he’s operating in a system that declares people unfit to live... same as he did, so he’s most likely asking why they have the right to decide it and he doesn’t. then we add that they wanted to know why he did what he did, which is the crux - until now he just said he had fun and he felt like it. now, bruce springsteen has no idea of why starkweather did it because of course he never knew him and only researched the topic, and the movie obviously had its take on things but it’s a movie. so what he does? he provides an answer which is also a reference to flannery o’ connor’s story a good man is hard to find’s ending where a similar thing was said (guys honestly read that it’s an a+ short story you should)... as in: well, I guess there’s just a meanness in this world. he GUESSES, he doesn’t know. *well, sir* suggests an answer like he’s just shrugging and providing it because it just occurred to him, not that he thought about it. but then what’s the point? that the world is mean. and it sucks. and meanness exists and you can’t do anything about it, and he was mean same as the world he comes from and so he did something mean that will result in his soul being hurled into the void (but other people said it, not him, he most likely doesn’t even think his soul will survive the execution), but that’s it. there’s nothing else. there’s no reasoning, there’s no guilt, there’s nothing. just, there’s a meanness in this world. dot. and since the world is mean people do mean things such as kill innocent people, to whom mean things happen all the time, and you can’t do shit about it. and then the song is over and you’re left with a chill running down your spine and wondering, is it really just as bad as that?

but since the singer isn’t giving you any answer either way and he’s not sympathizing with the murderer nor is trying to make you sympathize with him, he’s just telling him like it is, you as in the listener have to put effort into it and do the math and decide for yourself if you want to agree with the fact that the world is inherently mean and it sucks and it inevitably will do it over and over again, or if you want things to be different. you can’t know either way. he’s not telling you to judge his murderer not to sympathize with him. he’s asking you to think about it.

hm. imagine that.

now, if only people actually followed that advice and thought about things including how narratives focusing on seventeen-year olds having to kill someone in order to save people after developing ptsd for two years are not meant for the reader to blame the seventeen-year old with ptsd but the system that fucked him over that much, that would be even better now, wouldn’t it? ;)

[verai-marcel]

Lesson in Humility (RDR2 Fanfic, 18+ ONLY)

Summary: You were raised in a cold household, with parents who only wanted what was best for themselves. So you were taught how to be a lady with the coldest eyes and an ice heart. They taught you that no one was good enough, that you were better than everyone else, and you believed them. At least, until a blue-eyed bodyguard came to humble you.

Author’s Notes: Geez, I’m not sure what kick I’m on, but my stories are getting more filthy, sorry. @dva-xo, this one is all yours. Also trying a new format, where reader POV refers to you as “you”, while Arthur’s POV refers to you as “her”. I think, from his perspective, he’s not going to think in second person. Let me know what you think.

Tags: rough sex, D/s, humiliation play, name calling, low honor arthur, rich reader, virgin reader, reader POV, Arthur POV, filthy talk, might as well call it a porn

Also find it on AO3!

“Ain't there someone better for this job? Maybe someone better lookin’ and charmin’?”

Hosea sighed. For all his picking on Arthur for being an idiot, he knew he really wasn’t. He was the only one capable of handling this job with any tact. Charles was a close second, but he was a better hunter, so his skills would be better suited to feed the camp. Javier might have been able to do this, but Dutch needed him for scouting and tracking the O’Driscolls. And there was no way he was sending John or Bill or heaven forbid, Micah. Not for a job like this.

“It'll only be for a week while the family finds a permanent house guard.”

Arthur sighed so hard that Hosea thought he was being melodramatic if he didn't know him any better.

“Fine, fine. This better pay good.”

“It will. We already got paid partially up front, and you'll get paid the full amount at the end of the week when the contract is up. Now go meet her at this house,” he said, passing Arthur a map with directions scribbled in the corner.

“She better not be some spoiled brat,” Arthur mumbled and he stomped off to pack some clothes.

***

Looking up at the small house, you sighed. Your parents had sent you to St. Denis to learn how to be a proper lady of the house. Growing up under the exacting tutelage of your narcissistic parents, they had taught you etiquette and reminded you constantly of your place in life, and thus, the relative place of others, which was beneath you.

The best women's college with the best home economics program was in this city, and while you could recite etiquette rules all day, you couldn't cook or mend a shirt for the life of you. You were feeling bitter; all the things that had interested you as a child but were told were beneath you, were now things your parents had decided were the proper topics to learn.

You could have let me learn when I was 5, then I wouldn't have to start twenty years late.

Sighing again, you set your bitterness aside and followed the two servants who were bringing your luggage inside. A maid greeted you at the door and guided you around the house; it was small, just two stories: there was a parlour, eating area, servant’s quarters, and kitchen downstairs, and four bedrooms upstairs. One of those bedrooms was yours, another was for your parents when they stayed in town, and the last two were for guests.

Before you had left the main house, however, your parents told you that one of the guest bedrooms would be occupied by a personal bodyguard that they had hired for you. It was only for a week until they could find a permanent guard, they had said. You rolled your eyes; you didn’t need some local ruffian following you around.

You already hated it here. It was humid and your clothing was sticking to your skin in an unrefined manner. The maid had left you alone in your new room while she continued cleaning and putting away your belongings. You turned to her and told her that you would like a bath. She paused for a moment.

“Immediately,” you added.

She nodded and went away to get it prepared for you.

Walking over to the window, you looked out at the city and scowled. You were not looking forward to living here.

***

Arthur looked up at the decently sized house and whistled. Whoever he was guarding really was rich, if this was their second home. He walked through the gates and knocked on the doors. An older woman came to the door. He quickly explained that he was the bodyguard hired by the head of the family and gave her the letter of introduction that Hosea had given to him.

After introducing herself as Anna Miller, the head housekeeper, she led him through the house so he’d learn the location of all the rooms, and then finally the room where he’d be for the next week. She also gave him a schedule of the lady’s week; it looked like he’d be escorting her to and from school for five days, and then the last two days would be leisure, and he’d just have to take her wherever she wanted to go.

“Oh, one more thing. Don’t take anything she says personally,” she said before she left him to unpack.

“Huh?”

The housekeeper looked back at him over her shoulder. “She’s a cold one.”

***

After escorting you to the college this morning, the maid had said that your new guard would come to escort you home, and to wait at the gates for him. So you waited, and you held yourself up straight, even though everything in you wanted to just slouch and slink home. It had been a terrible day. You had followed each instruction to the letter, been an exemplary student. And yet when you tried to show another girl how to double stitch, she had turned you away, asking the other girls instead, even though you were clearly the better study.

Fools, tittering away. Some of us are here to better ourselves, you had thought disdainfully.

When the instructor had tried to tell you that you were perhaps being a bit showy, you swallowed any response you might have made and nodded. Etiquette demanded that you treat all others as equals, even if you were superior to them. To maintain that facade all the time was stressful; all you wanted was a bit of praise for being so good. Instead you were punished for being better. Served me right, you thought. You nearly broke etiquette.

When your coach came up and stopped before you, you watched with some trepidation as a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out and looked straight at you. He called your name, and held out his hand.

Silently, you took it and let him help you into the coach. And you were silent the whole way back, since you had nothing to say.

***

Jesus, Mrs. Miller was right. She IS cold. Not a damn word the whole ride back, Arthur thought to himself as he helped her out of the coach. She kept walking away from him, her back straight, her face not showing a single emotion. He trailed behind her, not sure what he was supposed to do now.

“You’re dismissed for today,” she said when she got to the door. “I have no need for a guard now that I’m home.”

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed. “Listen, as much as I’d like to go the bar and get a drink, Mrs. Miller clearly stated that I’m supposed to guard you at all times.”

“Who said that?”

“Mrs. Miller? The head housekeeper?”

“Oh. Her. Fine,” she said dismissively, and walked into the house as if he wasn’t there.

Arthur rubbed his face; he felt a headache coming on.

This is goin’ to be a long week.

***

You didn’t know the maid was the head housekeeper, but he didn’t need to know that. You hadn’t even bothered to remember her name. Such details didn’t register as important to you; what mattered now was maintaining your dignity. You had never dealt with a man who not only questioned you, but did so in an impolite tone. You had almost snapped at him, but you would not lose decorum over such a small thing.

It was not lost on you that the man exuded the kind of masculinity that you had only heard about behind closed parlour doors where women spoke quietly of the books they had read, books with scandalous content with gunslingers rescuing ladies from bandits. Your breathing hitched at the thought, and you had to take a deep breath to calm your heart. This would not do at all.

This was going to be a very long week.

***

Three days passed, and Arthur grew more and more irritated with the lady who showed nothing but cold indifference to everyone around her, especially him. He was only mildly annoyed by how she treated him, but the way she barely spoke to Anna, and the way she treated the servants Thomas and Harry, pissed him off. He even talked to them about it, but they just shrugged it off, saying that the lady had always been like that, and she didn’t know any better. When he asked why wasn’t she taught better, they shrugged again.

“She’s the daughter of our boss; it’s hard for us to say anything,” they had said. Arthur just shook his head. This wasn’t his place. Four more days, and he could collect his pay and go.

***

Each day that passed, Arthur would give you a piece of his mind. Somewhat politely at first, but with each passing day, he seemed to get more short with you.

On the sixth day, Arthur finally snapped at you.

“Show some respect, Thomas was just doin’ his job,” he growled while walking with you upstairs after dinner. You had once again corrected Thomas on the proper way to lay out the silverware before the meal started, and you recall Arthur giving you a pointed look, but you hadn’t known why, and you didn’t care.

“How am I not? I’m correcting him.”

“He’s a human bein’, not an animal. A please and a thank you never hurt nobody.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he had a point; etiquette demanded equal treatment. You shut your mouth and looked away.

“Oh, so you CAN feel ashamed.”

You glared daggers at him. “You should know who you’re dealing with.”

“What, a rich woman with no respect for common folk?”

“I respect those who deserve it.”

By now he had walked you to your room, and your hand was on the doorknob. You jumped when his hand slammed the door jamb next to your face.

“He deserves it more than you,” he snarled.

***

Arthur noted her eyes going wide and looking a bit scared as she turned to look at him. The darker part of his desires flared to life, seeing her like this. A crooked smile slowly grew on his face. It was his last night here. Might as well teach her a lesson, if she chose to let him in.

***

Your heart beat wildly in your ribcage. The smile that he was giving you was like nothing any man had shown you before. You felt something tense lower in your body, and you knew, you knew that if you let him into your room, you would throw all of your etiquette lessons out the window.

“Looks like you ain’t never been taken to task for your lack of respect.”

You scoffed, despite feeling a tremble in your hands. “Are you going to?”

He stepped menacingly closer, staring down at you once he had you pinned against the door with his gimlet stare.

“Maybe I will. Because you need to learn some manners.”

Your head spun. Maybe you deserved it. This past week, as you thought of all the times you had failed to maintain etiquette in class, letting out the occasional scoff or snide remark, you felt shame burn in your heart. And seeing the reaction of the women around you? The look in their eyes, knowing you weren’t perfect? The worst.

Something in you snapped. You turned the door handle.

“Fine.”

***

Arthur followed her into the dimly lit room and locked the door behind him. He didn’t want any interruptions. She stopped in the middle of the room and turned to look at him, a defiant look on her, even though she had clearly invited him in. He put his hands on his belt and observed her. In a pink blouse and a cream colored skirt, she looked absolutely charming. He had an urge to take her hair out of that tight bun and let it cascade down her naked body.

He stepped closer to her, closer than her precious etiquette dictated, and touched her hip. He loved the soft gasp she gave, and gripped her waist, pulling her close. Leaning in and grazing her earlobe with his lips, he felt his blood rush at the feel of her quivering against him. He was going to enjoy this one.

***

“Proper women don’t raise their voice,” he whispered into your ear. That was the only warning you got before he started sucking on your neck. You gasped and started breathing faster.

“Unbutton your blouse,” he ordered. You slowly undid each button as he watched you, a hunger growing in his eyes as more of your skin was exposed. You let the blouse slide off you. Your chemise was blocking his view, so he reached up and tore the fabric down, baring your breasts. You immediately brought your arms up, but he grabbed your wrists.

“Rule one: show me everythin’,” he said in a low voice. He let go of your wrists; you dropped your arms and let him look at you. Your face burned.

Then he turned you around and pushed you towards the window. Pulling open the drapes a little bit, he forced you up against the glass, flattening your breasts against the cool material. Looking outside, you saw a few people past the garden gates. It suddenly hit you that if you could see them, then they could potentially see you.

You struggled in his arms, but with one hand he gripped the back of your neck, and with the other, he started lifting up your skirt.

“People can see me!” you whispered frantically.

“Maybe. Maybe not. They might not notice.”

You were about to protest some more, but then you felt his touch on your thigh. He drew lazy circles on your rear, then delved his fingers down to your slit. Flicking your clit was a new sensation, and you took a sharp breath. You wriggled as you felt him toy with your body. His other hand that had been on the back of your neck holding you in place now started to stroke your shoulders, your waist, your hips. He pulled the remains of your chemise off you so you were bare from the waist up.

“Then again, maybe they'll all see you, exposin’ yourself like this.”

Then he pushed a finger inside of you, and you pressed up against the glass, unfamiliar with this intimate invasion of your body. You quietly cried out at the strange feeling. When he added a second one, then a third, you were glad for the cool glass against your body as it heated up with every push into you. He watched you in the reflection of the glass, could see your face contort with everything he did to you. The arrogance in his smile gnawed at you, but there was nothing you could say; you had asked for this.

Then he pulled his fingers out of you. You turned your head to see him unbuttoning his fly. Noticing that he had your attention, he slowly pulled his cock out, running your juices from his fingers up and down his hard shaft.

Arthur stepped closer and nudged your opening. You squeaked, making him chuckle. Then he began to sink himself inside of you.

“Ah, ah,” you called out, unable to keep your voice in. He covered your mouth.

“Rule two: My little bitch doesn't speak unless spoken to,” he rasped in your ear as he sunk in to the hilt and stayed still, letting you adjust to his girth. You trembled under him, and he licked the column of your neck as he undid your hair. It fell in waves down your back and around your shoulders; he combed his hand through it gently, before grabbing a handful at the base of your head and pulling you back.

He tightened the grip on your waist before he slid out of you and then slammed back in with such force that you were shoved into the glass. You braced your arms against the window frame to keep your balance as he started to move faster.

“Fucked by a man you hardly know. That ain't so ladylike,” he said without missing a beat. “Shameful hussy like you deserves this.”

You clenched around him. What on earth was the matter with you? You wanted him talking down to you, degrading you. The humiliation, specifically from him, made you feel on fire for once in your cold life.

His grip on you tightened, almost painfully, and brought you back to the present. “Ain't that right, sugar?” he growled.

“Y-yes,” you stammered.

He pulled tighter on your hair. “Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

His low laugh sounded like a cross between amusement and dark pleasure. Letting go of your hair, he started fucking you harder, your body thumping softly against the glass. You tried not to moan, tried not to make any sounds, but when he reached down to finger your clit, your voice betrayed you, a soft whine escaping your lips.

Arthur’s fingers immediately left your folds, and you choked back a sob at their loss. You felt him pull away from you, and you slid down the glass slightly.

He undid your skirt and pulled it off, along with your drawers, leaving you naked except for your stockings. Then he slapped your ass hard, making you yelp in surprise.

“Don’t make me punish you more. Just stay quiet and take it.” He spanked your ass again, and you bit your lower lip to keep from crying out. Again and again, he made your rear end sting.

When he finally stopped, you weren’t sure how many spankings you had taken. All you knew was that when he shoved himself back inside you once more, the feeling of his clothes against your sensitive skin was too much, and you once again pushed up against the glass since you had nowhere else to go.

“Look out there, sugar. All those people you look down on. Can you imagine what they’d think of you now?”

You looked away from the window and closed your eyes.

Then you felt him wrap his arms around you and lift you up.

“Wrap your arm around me,” he ordered. You swung one arm around his neck and grabbed his shoulder. You leaned back on his chest as he adjusted his stance, and then switched his grip to spread your legs wide. In the reflection of the glass, you saw yourself in his arms, his hands gripping your thighs. You were spread open like a butterfly, and in between your legs, his cock was pulsing inside you.

Then he started lifting you up and down, and in the glass you saw a wanton woman, breasts heaving, your slit flowing with your juices as he made you his for the night.

“Tell me what you are.”

“I'm your whore,” you gasped.

“And what do you need?”

“Your cock inside me,” you whimpered.

And you became addicted. The power in his arms, his whole body, was a wonderous thing, as he fucked you by the window for anyone to see. The way he looked at you, like you were nothing, like you should feel so honored to be used by him, made you shiver.

“Look at yourself. How can you be better than them, when you're actin’ like this?” He thrust into you one more time and kept himself fully inside you.

“Touch yourself. Show me your face when you come with my dick inside you.”

You reached down with your free hand and rubbed yourself. It didn't take long, you were already so close that you came within a minute, gasping and staring at Arthur's eyes in the reflection. He looked satisfied, and a thrill of happiness ran through you.

He walked over to the bed and dropped you onto the mattress, face first. You tried to lift your head, but he immediately shoved it back down.

Entering you from behind, he railed you hard, not letting up for a moment, not giving you any mercy. He grabbed a corner of the bedsheet and stuffed it in your mouth to stifle your cries. You bit down and moaned as he kept pounding into you, leaning back occasionally to smack your ass.

“Learn your lesson, sugar?”

You nodded frantically.

He took the sheet out of your mouth. “What was that?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good,” he said slowly, the word suddenly becoming so sexual in nature that you wanted him to say it again. Anything to make him praise you with that deep, honeyed voice.

He suddenly pulled out of you and grabbed your hair, dragging you to your knees in front of him. He slowly stroked his cock in front of you and tipped your chin up.

“Open up, sweet. I'm gonna use you real good tonight.”

You opened your mouth and he gently started to move in and out, letting you get used to his size. You got the idea quickly and moved on your own, so all he had to do was stand there and let you pleasure him. Using your tongue, you quickly learned what he liked, looking up at him and begging for praise with your eyes. You were completely in his thrall, and he knew it.

“That's it, you're doing good,” he crooned, and you flushed with ecstacy. He petted your hair and caressed your cheek, and you leaned into his touch like a cat.

You felt him twitch in your mouth. Suddenly Arthur grabbed your hair and pulled you off him, your mouth making a pop sound as he gripped himself and stroked once, twice, and came all over your unsuspecting face.

“Clean me up,” he demanded, and you licked him until he was satisfied. He put himself away and looked down at you with a wry grin.

“You look so slutty with my spend all over you, sugar.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said without prompting. He gave you a true smile this time, his eyes filling with warmth. You wanted for nothing more.

He kneeled down so he was eye level with you. “Now clean yourself up. And don't tell no one about this.” Then he leaned in closer and ran his thumb over your lips. “It's our secret, okay?”

You nodded. He nodded back at you, stood up, and left you alone with your thoughts.

***

Arthur walked back to his room, feeling immensely gratified. No one knew about his depraved cravings, and he intended to keep it that way. And he always left his partners satisfied anyway, so they never spilled his secret.

***

The next morning as you left your room, Arthur was there, standing next to your door.

“I won't say anything,” you whispered. He nodded, and fell in step beside you. It was his last day; your new permanent guard was to show up this afternoon, so you decided to go take a walk in the park today.

You let the maid, no, Mrs Miller, know that you were heading out to the park for the morning. You called her by her name, told her you were thankful for all her help this week, and she smiled at you. That was nice.

Thomas drove the coach over to the park, and you thanked him for the drive, noting his pleasantly surprised look when you said it. It made you feel warm inside, and you were surprised by yourself.

“So, feelin’ kinder today?”

The two of you had walked around for five minutes before he finally spoke.

“Yes. It's… different,” you said thoughtfully. “It's nice.”

Arthur chuckled. “Yep.”

You turned to stand in front of him. “I've learned a few things about myself. Thanks to you.”

He shrugged. “Not sure I did anything worth thanking me for.”

Smiling at him, you laughed. It was the first time he had heard you or seen you this happy. It had been a long time since you laughed like this.

“I had a long think last night after you left. I need to be more respectful, and others will respond in kind.”

“You only now just figured this out?”

“I think I was too wrapped up in my own head to see outside.” You stepped a bit closer to him, but not any closer than etiquette allowed. “Last night was… freeing, in a way.”

Arthur shrugged.

“So thank you,” you said as you turned and started walking along the park path again. “I'll never forget it.”

You just heard him softly laughing behind you.

***

Arthur packed up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. It was a crazy week. He walked down the steps and exited the front door, seeing her waiting for him. Beyond her, he saw a man exit the coach. Clearly the new guard.

He walked past her, but not before whispering in her ear, “remember my lesson, sugar.” He grinned when he saw her blush and smile back at him, and he nodded at her before walking out the gate. He noted the way the new guard had been watching their whole exchange, and decided he didn't give a fuck.

The new guard assessed him, judged him, and dismissed him in a second. Handing him a stack of bills, he said, “For your help this week.”

Arthur counted the cash and shoved the stack into his satchel.

“Thanks,” he said, and walked towards the stable to get his horse and head back to camp.

He'd have to thank Hosea for the job. After all, he got an extra reward that he'd never tell anyone about.

--------------------

End Notes: Was it good? Needed work? Too repetitive? Please let me know. Trying new formats always has consequences...

Also I was supposed to tag @anniesburg because I was told to?