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princehrry-writings · 4 years ago

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Y/n's a witch and Harry's her soulmate

I'VE LITERALLY BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR 2 MONTHS!!!

lanfvksbkvjbs I hope you guys like it because I poured my whole soul into this!!!! I wanted it to be over 10k but I felt like I was just dragging it on and the ending isn't great but it's ok.

I switch between present and past tense without meaning too- oops :)

wordcount: 9911

warnings: uhhh, swearing, google translated latin :) catcalling and unwanted male attention (with a bad witch moment... see what i did there😏), a little bit of violence, very lightly edited lmao

She didn’t quite understand what was going on. Was this another witch? No, she would have felt that energy differently. So he had to be a mortal. But why did it feel like she had just been set on fire in the best way possible.

“Thank you…” He muttered, eyes glazed over. “M’Harry, by the way.”

Harry.

What a magical name, she thought.

Harry walks into Y/n’s shop one day, sees the brooms sweeping by themselves and gets a little curious.

“Althea, get your claws out of there. You’re gonna get hair in the muffins!” Y/n shrieked, quickly shooing the troublesome feline away from the open bowl of batter sat atop the counter. The cat just meowed at her, unbothered by her person's shrieking. Thea was quite the diva. She couldn’t give a flying fuck even if she tried.

“Oh Stars, look what you’ve done!” Y/n continued, cleaning up the trail of paw prints left in the flour on the table. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of the kitchen when I’m baking Thea! Why don’t you ever listen!”

Y/n has been a little strung up lately. That’s probably the understatement of the century. Maybe if she hadn’t been put in charge of the shop for the first time by herself while her mother went to gather supplies and place orders for said shop, she wouldn’t be so stressed. She’s only 22 years into her eternal lifetime. She’s yet to learn the virtue of patience, her mind never ceasing to run with ideas and thoughts and feelings.

Her mother always griped about how she needed to take a deep breath and let go of the tension in her shoulders because now that she had stopped ageing- she had all the time in the world (literally) to do everything she was worried about. Y/n would argue that she’s not worried so much as eager. She’s just very excitable.

“Why do I even bother yelling at you anymore.” Y/n grumbled, flicking her wrist in the direction of the broom closet. The broom and dustpan came floating out and got to work sweeping up the bits of flower seeds and petals that had dropped off the table instead of into the mortar like she had planned.

Y/n’s never been known for her cleanliness.

Out of the blue, the hair on the back of her neck and arms stood at full attention, a warm shiver shooting down her spine. What the hell? She thought to herself. Thea didn’t seem bothered by whatever energy was coming closer so she knew it wasn’t any danger, but it was something. Y/n flicked her wrist once more, quickly sending the broom away and going to hide behind a wall where whoever this was couldn’t see her.

The little bells above the door chimed, alerting anyone inside that someone had just arrived. In walked, who Y/n thought to be, the most beautiful boy she thinks she’s ever seen. Chestnut curls shielded by a knit beanie, sea glass eyes, broad shoulders, a kind smile on his face. He looked as ethereal as she was.

She felt the earth shift under her feet, her heart speeding up slightly in his presence. He was magnificent, she thought. The shiver she felt was steadfast and unchanging, finding a home in the goosebumps covering her whole body. She had never felt like this before.

The witch watched from behind the wall as the man gazed about the shop, his hands rested behind his back. In a pair of black jeans with a rip in the knee and a white tee shirt with a cardigan thrown over it, he shuffled about.

Y/n took a deep breath, collecting herself before making her presence known. She walked out from behind the wall, stepping behind the main checkout counter and clearing her throat lightly.

“Welcome in! I’m Y/n, let me know if you need any help!” She said, trying not to cringe at how scripted that sounded.

His head popped up, eyes connecting with hers and that’s when they both felt the energy in the room grow. Thea came sauntering out of the kitchen area in the back, Y/n made a mental note to check the muffin batter for cat hair later, no doubt at the electrical charge of the room.

“Thank you…” He muttered, eyes glazed over. “M’Harry, by the way.”

Harry.

What a magical name, she thought.

There was a pause, where neither of them wanted to move, in fear of this moment passing and never getting to feel like this ever again.

It felt like having a picnic on a warm summer day, where it’s not too hot but just right. It felt like the first breath of fresh Spring air, like hearing a baby giggle. She felt fuzzy and warm. Like she was wrapped in a hug. Y/n felt… peaceful. She felt all of her anxiety about the shop melt away, as if it had never been there.

Harry smiled at her, a pink tinge coating his skin, and pulled his eyes away (he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by staring), continuing on with his peruse of the shop. He had no idea why he was here, truly. Didn’t realize where he was until he pushed through the door. He doesn’t even know what any of this stuff is, he’s just looking so it seems like he knows what he’s doing.

He felt something brush his ankle, looking down and seeing a fluffy snow white cat with striking green eyes (just like his!), and cooed at her.

“Is it alright if I pet her?” He asked, looking back up at Y/n. He would take any chance he got to look at her. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. With her shiny hair and kind eyes, a smile that made you want to hug her. She looked so welcoming. He felt… oddly peaceful.

“Yeah of course! She’s my little attention whore, aren’t you Thea?” Y/n giggled and Harry thought his heart would stop right there. Her little giggle was the most glorious sound he’d ever heard, he decided.

She got up from her little stool behind the counter and floated over to him, using her cat as an excuse to get closer. She just couldn’t figure out why she had such a pull to him. It didn’t make sense to her. Maybe he was a witch and was just masking his energy really well, maybe he was some sort of other creature, or maybe… no, that can’t be it.

Well…

Maybe… he’s her Flame. Her Twin Flame… Her Soulmate.

No. There’s no way. It’s so rare for witches to find their flames. And especially at such a young age. Y/n’s parents didn’t find each other for almost 75 years, and here she is at just 22, stumbling upon some magical happenstance where her Flame just saunters into her family’s shop.

Harry scratched behind Thea’s ear, a motor-like pur erupting from her little belly. She nuzzled into his touch, and then sprung up onto his shoulder from the table, startling the man. Y/n giggled at the look on his face, reaching up to scratch just above Thea’s tail, her favorite spot.

“She does that when she likes someone.” Y/n explained. A blush appeared on his face at this.

She likes him.

“So was there anything in particular you were looking for?” Y/n continued, hoping to make more conversation with him. Her fingers are buzzing, wanting to reach out and hold his hand or touch his arm, anyway she can get her hands on him really, but she knows that would be inappropriate so she refrains (however difficult it may be).

Harry was in the same boat. He felt the need to wrap her up in his embrace and never let her go. It was the strangest thing he thinks he’s ever felt.

“Honestly, no. I don’t really know what any of this stuff is… I didn’t even realize when I walked in but I didn’t want to look like a psycho just walking in and out of shops randomly.” A shy smile displays on his features.

Y/n chuckled. This furthers her hunch that he is, in fact, her Flame. Getting a random urge to come in here could only mean that the invisible string tying them together was leading him to her. Pulling them closer and closer everyday until this very moment, when they were fated to meet. Written in the stars to know each other, whether that be for love or friendship only time would tell.

She really hopes it’s love.

“Ok… We’re kind of just a general shop. We carry crystals, herbs, spices, oils, candles, and my mother does a lot of crafts, so we sell those here too.” Y/n went on to explain, Harry’s eyes flitted around to all the things she mentioned. He saw glittering crystals, by themselves but also made into jewelry like rings and necklaces, he saw bundles of different flowers and vials of liquids he assumed were the oils she mentioned.

“What is all this stuff for?” He questioned. He had never heard of anyone suddenly needing Oxeye Daisies or black onyx crystals, but he’d never been one to judge.

Y/n paused, thinking of the best way to explain everything. Practising “witchcraft” wasn’t an unusual topic to humans, but they didn’t know that witches with magic that was (semi-inaccurately) portrayed in movies and tv shows actually existed.

“Uhm, anything in the shop can be used for a number of things. Apothecary, gardening, herbal remedies, manifestation.” She explained. He nodded along with her words, doing his best to focus on what she was saying rather than just her. His body was tingling the closer she stood. He never wanted this feeling to go away.

Whatever this feeling was.

Harry looked around, his sights landing on a shelf full of colorful candles. His eyes lit up, trotting over to them, picking up one that was a light lavender color. He didn’t know he was drawn to this one in particular, but something had pulled him to grab it. Something was telling him to buy it, bring it home, and burn it on his bedside table, right next to his head every night.

It was Y/n’s favorite color.

The girl's cheeks burnt when she realized this was the one he had picked out. The occurrence might seem random to anyone passing by, anyone who didn’t know two halves of a soul had just been reunited with one another after being apart for however many years. But Y/n knew, and hopefully Harry would know soon.

She didn’t want to scare him though. He would think she was crazy. Imagine a random stranger that you’ve never seen before in your entire life tells you that you’re meant to spend the rest of your life together. He would run away screaming.

So she has to start slow.

“Think I might get a few candles…” Harry trails off, looking around at all the different shapes and sizes of colored wax sitting before him. Y/n smiles at this and nods, letting him know she’ll be at the counter if he needs anything.

Please need something, she hopes to herself.

He didn’t end up needing anything, but he ended up purchasing 3 candles, all of them being that same lavender color.

* .

. * .

It was a few weeks later when Y/n felt a familiar tingle run down her spine. Harry must be near, she thought.

She had spent the last fortnight and then some moping about the shop and her flat, hoping her Flame would turn up again. Her mother, Asteria, had been ecstatic when she heard that her daughter had found her Flame, and empathised with her pain, understanding that he was a mortal and it was difficult to form bonds with them quickly. The woman always found it interesting how the most indefinite creatures took the longest to form their bonds. But then she remembered they had no knowledge of Twin Souls and often settled for one not fated to them.

“Mama, he’s close. I can feel him!” Y/n cried, tidying her appearance in the reflection of the window. She hopes to the Stars that he’s coming to see her and not just passing through.

Waving away the brooms fluttering around the shop, she busies herself restocking shelves. Asteria had just finished a new batch of candles that needed shelving. The mother had been trying new recipes lately and was excited to see how they would fare.

Y/n almost misses the little chime of the bells signaling that someone has just entered. If it weren’t for the energy in the room skyrocketing and all the hair in her body standing at attention, she wouldn’t have noticed it at all. Turning, her gaze falls upon a familiar set of sea glass eyes and chestnut curls that have enchanted her mind every passing second since the first time they met. She tried her damndest to hide her grin, but had to turn away so he wouldn’t be able to see it.

Harry looked around the shop before his gaze fell upon the girl he hadn’t stopped dreaming about since he last was here. There she stood, back turned to him, with her shiny hair and adorable outfit. In a lavender colored sundress, hair pulled back by a white scarf, she fussed about the candle shelf that Harry had searched the last time he came.

Everytime he burned that candle, he thought of the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about the different items in the shop and how she smiled at him when he asked her a question.

Harry had never been one to jump into things quickly. He was the kind of guy that liked to get a feel for a situation before he really dived into it. But there was something about this girl that made him want to jump in head first, fearless. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her, daydreaming about little scenarios that he wished would happen between them.

He knows he sounds crazy, but he has a crush on her. And he’d only met her once! That is so not like him at all.

Y/n turned once again, sure that she had calmed the burning in her cheeks, greeting Harry as if she hadn’t thought of him in weeks.

“Welcome in,” she says, wondering if it would be weird to him if she remembered who he was, she decided she doesn’t care, “Oh, hi Harry!”

“Hello Y/n!” He smiles. Y/n felt her heart stutter in her chest when her name fell from his lips. As if she was floating (she had to check to make sure she actually wasn’t), she followed the sound of his voice, going to stand before him. Her first instinct was to hug him, and she was very sad that she had to stop herself.

“What brings you back?” She asked, itching to reach out and hold his hand. His gaze flits around for a few seconds before landing back on her face, a rose tint now on his cheeks.

“I- uh, I don’t really know. I just felt like I needed to come back…” He stuttered. A smile graced her lips, causing an identical one to grow on his own. Asteria watched from behind the counter, beaming at the couple.

“Y/n dear, who’s this?” The witch called. Y/n snapped out of her love-drunk haze, looking to her mother.

“Mama, this is Harry. He came in a few weeks ago while you were away.” She answered, giving her a look that said “please don’t say anything.” Asteria had a tendency to butt into her daughter's life, and Y/n needed to figure this out on her own.

Thea came flouncing out from whichever corner she had burrowed herself into and nosed at Harry’s feet before launching herself onto Y/n’s shoulder and staring at Harry from her new height advantage.

“Well look at you Thea, sittin’ all pretty up there!” Harry reached out to scratch behind her ears. Thea began purring loudly, louder than she did when Y/n petted her (Y/n did her best not to roll her eyes at her attention whore cat). The one thing the girl loved about this was now she had a reason to step closer to the boy before her. He smelled like citrus and woods, with a hint of weed (she’s not judging, she just wouldn’t peg him for a stoner so it’s a little surprising). She let it take over her senses until all she could think about was HaryHaryHary, having to stop herself from purring just like the cat.

“Well, whatever led you back here, it’s nice to see you again!” She blushed, deciding to let her affection for him shine through lightly. Y/n realized she didn’t really want to waste time dancing around mortal niceties. She didn’t want to scare him off but she wouldn’t feign disinterest. The witch wanted to make it clear she was smitten with him. So this was her way of starting slow, letting her blushes be seen, maybe resting a gentle hand on his bicep if he says something that makes her laugh, letting her longing gazes be caught before she looks away.

Like she said before, she’s going to start slow.

“I am too…” Harry wondered if maybe she felt the things he was feeling too. If she couldn’t stop thinking about him the way he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wondered if it would be weird to ask her out. See if she wanted to get dinner with him, or have a picnic in a park on a sunny afternoon while he stared, as uncreepily as he could, at her bright smile and star-stricken eyes.

Very quickly, like it almost didn’t happen, Y/n saw a blush pink haze surrounding the boy. He was feeling love. The heat in her cheeks rose, fluttering of her heart increasing.

Now she knew for sure, he was her soulmate for love- not friendship. Thank the Stars!

* .

. * .

The next few weeks, Harry would come in every few days just to see Y/n. After realizing that she might be feeling the way he was, he wanted to make it clear to her that he was smitten. So he’d come in after he got done with whatever he’d been doing that day, bring her flowers or a blue-raspberry red bull italian soda (he saw her drinking one one day when he came by) and they would talk and sometimes he’d bring food if it was late and they would eat at the counter in the back kitchen. It became a routine, and he started showing up almost everyday. On slower days, she would close up early, so as not to have a single distraction from her Flame.

The two would talk about the most obscure things, not giving a rat if others heard them cackling at each other's jokes and misspeakings (Y/n stumbled over her words quite a bit when she was tired, he came to realize. He thought it was adorable).

In return for the beautiful flowers and the delicious drinks he’d bring her, Y/n would give him little spell jars or charmed items to make his life easier. He didn’t know they were spelled or charmed, but he thought it was cute how she gave him a lavender colored pen and told him he would think of her every time he wrote anything down (she had charmed it to always spell things correctly) or a little jar filled with lavender and chamomile buds, a few drops of lavender oil and a small amethyst crystal sealed in white wax to help quell the anxiety he’d been feeling with his job lately.

He appreciated them more than any material thing she could have purchased for him. He liked that she wanted him to think about her or that she wanted to do away with his ailments. He came in with a cold once and she spent the better part of an hour fussing over him, telling him all these little tricks to clear his sinuses and giving him different blends of herbs and spices that should clear this up in no time! He thought she was very adorable, worrying over a little cold and wanting to make him better.

Harry found that each time he left her, the force that pulled him to her grew stronger. He wanted to be in her presence more and more every time he walked out the door of the shop. The boy still didn’t really understand what it was about her, but he’s long since stopped asking questions and was just rolling with the punches.

Speaking of things Y/n did that Harry thought was cute- the things she said enamoured him, rendered him so speechless sometimes all he could do was sit there and look at her, (ironically) wondering what magical force brought her to him. He had no idea that the Universe herself was the one who chose his favorite girl.

“Oh Stars Thea! Get out of the nettle! It makes you sneeze, silly cat!”

“Stars forbid you ever listen to me, mother.”

“Althea Rose get your furry ass away from that hot wax before I feed you to the hellhounds!”

He loved how she was always saying Stars where he would normally say Jesus Christ. He never was one to be into religion but it was just something people around him said.

As the weeks went by, they began to sit closer and closer to each other. What started as across the table from one another, began to turn into her at the head and him on the corner next to her, then both of them sitting on one side but a bit of space between them, and then side by side, thighs touching, on the bench seat. Eventually, Y/n would lay one of her legs over his and he would rest his hand innocently on her skin, his thumb absentmindedly brushing back and forth, tapping his fingers to an imaginary beat as she told him a story about a kooky customer that came in.

That was another thing he loved that she said a lot: kooky.

Their goodbyes had grown more and more affectionate over time as well. From a little wave and a shy smile to a little hug, to a bear hug with a kiss on the temple from Harry.

Things were moving very swimmingly. Y/n was happy with the progress the two had made in getting to know each other. She had learned that he worked at a marketing firm but his passion was music, that he was in a band when he was in high school, and he’s from a village in Manchester.

Harry learned that Y/n has a degree in herbology and really likes the woods, and the show The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (despite the inaccurate depiction of witches, she thinks the characters are pretty).

Y/n has been trying to figure out the best way to tell Harry about her… lifestyle. It’s going to be a big shift in his reality and she worries that she’s going to overwhelm him. Her parents didn’t have this problem because they were both witches, but she had been fated to a mortal, which she’s not complaining about because loves Harry and all his human afflictions (loves!), but it’s quite a task keeping him in the dark until she’s ready to shed light on everything.

Especially on a day like today.

Her mother is out again, leaving her in charge of the store, again! And as previously mentioned, Y/n gets a little strung up when she’s left in charge. She’s forgetful, her mind flying all over the place. Her messiness gets worse, leaving different things all over the place (she somehow left a grimoire in the refrigerator at home), losing things… Basically, Y/n’s not doing so hot at the moment.

A busy spell had just finished, she had like 7 different customers in at once, all of them needing her for different things and all the chamomile and lavender oil rubbed behind her ear in the world couldn’t calm the anxiety flowing through her at the moment. She’d been so strung up that she hadn’t noticed the warm golden shiver running down her spine or all the hair on her body raising to attention or the jingle of the bells on the door when Harry walked in.

Walked in to see… the brooms sweeping up by themselves? And different pots and pans flying back into place… with no one carrying them. And Y/n muttering words he didn’t understand while her fingers wiggled, making the pestle inside what he learned to be called a mortar, moving by itself.

To say the least, Harry was very confused. And a little scared. Was he dreaming? Did today even happen? Was he still at home lying in bed?

The only thing that makes him realize he’s not is the shriek Y/n let’s out when she sees him standing frozen in the doorway, eyebrows pulled together in confusion (and a little bit of terror), mouth agape like he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. All at once, every moving item ceased and dropped, including the pots and pans which made a very loud noise, scaring Thea so much that she did the loud “meow!” that you only hear cats do in movies, and Y/n let out a quiet“Shit!”

“Harry…” She muttered, standing up slowly and treading towards him.

“Um… Y/n. What- what the fuck… was all of that?” He stuttered, and she continued to walk to him.

“Love, why don’t we go sit down and I’ll explain everything to you!” Y/n said slowly. She had taken to calling him Love lately, not being able to stop herself. They had yet to really “confess their feelings” to the other, but it was like a silent thing that no one said but they both just knew. So the name didn’t surprise him. Actually in the midst of all this craziness (and how his whole world had just seemed to be flipped in a matter of 5 seconds) he was clinging to the familiarity of the pet name.

He nodded, his eyes glazing over as he tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Y/n waved her wrist, everything that had dropped seeming to come to life again and be put back into their rightful places. Harry stared in amazement. Seeing it for the second time really drove the nail into the coffin that holy shit this is really happening…

They sat down side by side on the bench where they normally did but Y/n didn’t put her leg over his like they had grown used to. She missed the contact but figured a little space while she explained everything would be best for her Flame. Harry didn’t agree and tugged her closer to him. She didn’t fight it.

“Ok,” She sighed, cracking her knuckles as she took a deep breath, “Harry… my darling Harry. I need you to keep an open mind while I tell you all of this ok? It’s gonna be a lot for you to take in and I don’t want you to get a headache.” He nodded, and she took his hands in her own, running her thumb over his palm and channeling positive energy between the two of them. She saw Harry relax a little, letting her know it worked. He was ready (as ready as he could be) to hear what she had to say.

“Love, I’m a witch.” She says, letting it sink in for a moment. Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment. Y/n wonders if he’s even breathing. The strong pulse thumping in his wrist is a steady reminder that he’s ok, just shocked. (Very, very shocked).

“I come from a very long line of very powerful witches. I have magic, kind of like you see in movies and tv shows except I don’t worship the devil or eat children. None of us do. We’re usually very gentle creatures, unless we’re put in danger. Witches don’t use magic to hurt others, quite the opposite actually.”

“So… you cast spells and stuff?” He asks quietly. She breathes a laugh through her nose, nodding her head, continuing to channel him by rubbing her thumbs over his palms.

“I do, that’s what you saw me doing at the counter. I was actually strengthening the anti-anxiety jar I gave you a few weeks ago, because you told me you had a big project coming up and I didn’t want you to get too stressed out.” The girl said.

Harry couldn’t really focus on one thing for too long, letting his gaze flit around the kitchen area. He felt oddly… calm.

“Why do I feel so calm right now? I feel like I should be freaking out a little bit more than I am…” He voiced, finally looking into her eyes.

“I’m channeling you… look.” She said, pointing her gaze to their hands. He sees her thumbs rubbing gentle circles into his palms and looks back into her eyes.

“You’re casting a spell on me right now?” Harry wonders out loud.

“Channeling isn’t necessarily a spell, I’m just focusing and directing positive energy onto you right now, to help keep you calm. Like I said, I don’t want you to get a headache or pass out on me. I can stop if you want me to though!” She added quickly at the end but he shook his head.

“No, don’t stop…” He almost cried, pulling her closer to him.

“Ok, I won’t. It’s ok!” She shushed him, letting one of her hands float to his cheek, brushing over his cheek bone and pushing a fallen curl out of his eyes, before her hand found his again.

“Was it a spell that made me want to come in here that first day?”

“No baby, that’s actually a little different. This might be a little much so you gotta bear with me ok?” She explained and he nodded, heaving out a heavy breath.

A beat of silence passes and Y/n lets her eyes lock with his.

“We’re Twin Flames… or what you would know as Soulmates. We were fated to be together. That’s why you felt a pull to come in here. We were… destined… to meet each other.”

Harry doesn’t say anything and Y/n feels like her heart is about to beat out of her chest. She knew he was going to find out someday, but really didn’t expect that day to be this one. This crazy long day where everything had seemed to just bubble over and explode. She should have known something was going to happen when this morning, the flame on the candle she had lit for Harry on her altar was taller than it ever had been. She had written it off to him just thinking about her or something (if this was the case, it would be to the ceiling all day everyday because he never stops thinking about her), but she should have known. And now, here she was, terrified that Harry was going to walk away from her. She would understand if he did, it’s a lot to take in, and having your whole world flipped on its head is a bit much.

It would still break her heart though.

“So… this is normal?” Harry broke his silence.

“Is what normal?”

“That I want to be around you all the time? That I think about you all the time? What I’m feeling is normal?”

Y/n’s face softens. He’s so cute, she thinks. She could just wrap him up in a little bow and keep him all to herself for the rest of time.

“Yes, baby. It’s normal! I’ve been feeling the same things as you ever since we first met!” Harry’s mind is a little clearer now, so he picks up on the new pet name. Baby. He likes it, he decides.

“You feel this way too?” He looks like a little puppy right now, Y/n could just cry. She nodded her head, scooting impossibly closer to him, practically sitting in his lap. It seemed now that he was even calmer than he had been before, even without her channeling. She stopped for a second to test his reaction and he was ok. He didn’t tense up, eyes didn’t well in tears, didn’t lose consciousness. So she moved her hands to cup his cheeks now, feeling him lean into her touch.

“You’ve been the only thing on my mind since before you even walked through the door that first day. You’re in my dreams every night, I see you every time I close my eyes, I’m completely taken with everything you do.” Y/n confesses, feeling a weight lift off her chest.

“I know it seems fast to you, as a mortal. Your kind usually takes this kind of thing slowly, really learns a person before you become vulnerable. Out of fear for being judged or whatever it might be, but I would never judge you. I want you to know it’s ok to let your guard down with me. Whatever you're comfortable with! I don’t want to overwhelm you in any way, and I know all of this is so so much to take in. I just want what’s best for you, my Love.”

It’s not lost on Harry that she adds my before Love. He feels his heart flutter.

“I’m taken with everything you do too. Absolutely everything.” He whispers, if he speaks too loudly the moment might be lost.

They stare into each other's eyes, feeling the energy in the room grow. Flames from the lit candles around the room grow tenfold, reflecting the rising energy. Harry has half a mind to break his gaze from the girl before him, seeing the tall flames before bringing his eyes back to hers. He sees her gaze drop to his lips repeatedly. He doesn’t think she even realizes that she’s leaning in to him, but he’s not going to stop her.

When she’s so close he can feel her breath fanning over his face, she pauses, looking back up to his eyes, silently asking for permission. With her hands still cupping his cheeks gently, she closes the distance between them, pressing her lips delicately to his. Harry places his hands in two places: her waist and her neck. He pulls her in closer, pressing their lips together more firmly. A wildfire spreads from head to toe on both of them. It seems as though time has paused for this very moment, and again the earth shifts. A piece of the universe has just been restored, two halves of a soul reunited.

Harry’s fingertips send sparks flowing down her spine, she hums against his lips. The kiss is simple, just two people getting to know each other, learning the other's body, but it’s long. It’s not just one peck. Harry presses his lips against hers multiple times, slotting her bottom between both of his.

When Y/n pulls back to catch her breath, Harry chases after her, not ready to end this moment yet. She chuckles and grants him a few more kisses until she really is about to pass out because she needs to breathe. Pushing him gently, she breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against his, keeping her eyes closed.

She so badly wants to let the three words sitting on the tip of her tongue go, but doesn’t want to overwhelm him with too much all at once.

“Do you feel that?” He whispers, pulling her to sit astride his lap. She moves pliantly, letting him take control of the situation.

The air feels charged, thick, like it should be hard to breath but it flows, smooth as water, into their lungs.

Y/n’s head feels heavy, like she’s high on every drug there ever was, her mind fuzzy, unable to think outside of this moment. Outside of this little wrinkle in time where Harry is the only other thing that exists.

“Yeah,” She whispers back, reconnecting their lips, slotting them together over and over until their lips are puffy and red. Harry slides his hands around her waist, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her flush against him, not even a slip of paper would fit.

Pulling away, Harry heaves in a deep breath, squeezing Y/n’s hips.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long…” He says, nudging his nose against hers. She smiles, letting his affections wash over her, warming her eternal soul.

“This doesn’t freak you out?”

“Oh, I’m so freaked out but I'm kind of just going with it, living in the ambiguity and all that shit.” He heaves a laugh through his nose, pressing kisses to her cheek and down her neck, smoothing his hands up and down her back.

This was the best possible outcome of the situation, if Y/n had to be honest. It could have gone so many ways. Harry being freaked out but rolling with it… she’ll take it.

“How about we make dinner and you can ask me any questions you have?” She suggested and he nodded.

So they did just that. But Y/n closed the shop early and they went back to her place. Hand in hand they walked the few blocks, side glaces of reassurance and little squeezes of the hand, letting the other know they were there, and they weren’t going anywhere, with Thea in her little travel backpack (that she was absolutely in love with surprisingly).

They came upon an unsuspecting alleyway. Harry thought they were just passing through as a shortcut but Y/n stopped walking in the middle of a blank brick wall and muttered a few words she didn’t understand while waving her hands. He started to realize maybe this wasn’t just a shortcut.

Before his eyes, a door appeared. His brows shot up in surprise (he’s gonna get worry lines on his forehead if he doesn’t stop doing that, he realizes). Y/n looked over her shoulder at him, trying to hide a smirk but the look on his face was too good.

“Pretty wicked huh?” Harry didn't say anything, just chuckled and nodded, following her when she opened the door and a set of stairs appeared. Walking up the dimly lit hallway, they come to another door with the cheeky The Witch Is In sign.

“Cute.” Harry smirks at her and she laughs, opening it and letting him walk through first.

“Make yourself at home! I’ve got records on the shelf over there, you can pick one if you want. I’m just gonna feed Thea and get her all settled and we can get to making dinner.” Y/n explained. Harry ventured off into her living room, seeing the shelf she was talking about and browsing through. There were many different artists from Fleetwood Mac to Taylor Swift to Weezer. He picks out Hozier's self-titled album and puts it on, the beginning of Take Me To Church crackling through the speakers.

“Good choice,” He hears from behind him and smiles, turning around to see the girl he was apparently destined to spend the rest of his life with standing before him.

“Jackie and Wilson has been stuck in my head the last few days so,” He said, sauntering over to her and snaking his arms around her waist.

Taking a look around, he sees many different trinkets and items similar to what was in the shop. A lot of jars filled with different things, candles of all different colors, crystals, a broom (he didn’t realize witches actually had brooms but ok), among other things that he didn’t know the purpose of.

“Wait… how are there windows in here? I didn’t see any outside.” He asked, pulling back from the hug and looking at her.

“Well, there aren’t any windows in the alley. But there’s also a glamour spell on this building so nobody can see my apartment. That’s why you can’t see the door until I do the little thing you saw me do.” She answered. A sheepish smile broke onto his face.

“Oh,” he said and she laughed from her chest, petting a few fallen curls back from his forehead. She could get used to this, she thinks as she stares into his eyes, green as the forest and wide with wonder at everything he’s discovered today.

Who knew the girl he was falling in love with would be a witch… with actual powers.

* .

. * .

“Wait so, if no one can see your front door… how do you get mail?” Harry asked, reaching around Y/n for the salt.

“At the shop,”

“Oh,” He says. She laughs, kissing his cheek and continuing on cutting up veggies for the salad they're making.

“Have you always been able to do magic or was it something you grew into?” Y/n thought back to when she was little, remembering how she struggled to harness her powers for a few years before she started getting the hang of things.

“I always had powers, but imagic isn’t something you just wake up and know how to do so it took a while for me to really settle into and control. Magic is a skill, same as reading and writing, so I had to be taught and I had to work on it. Does that make sense?” She pauses while she explains, looking into his eyes. Harry nods, but his light hearted curious expression turns into one of embarrassment and she doesn’t understand why.

A rosy red color surrounds him, telling her he was feeling… embarrassed? Why did he feel embarrassed?

“Baby? What’s going through your head?” She asks, wanting to help him feel better.

She doesn’t like when he’s feeling anything other than happy!

“I just… I feel like I’m asking you so many questions about all of this stuff and it’s just tough to wrap my head around I guess.” She puts the knife down and sets her hand on his wrist, stopping from what he’s doing. She places her other hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to face her.

“Harry, this is a lot to take in, yeah? It’s not something you can just find out and move on from. It’s gonna take time to process. You’re gonna feel a lot of emotions, and that’s ok! I would be worried if you weren’t feeling a little off, as much as I hate that you’re not feeling 100%.”

She places a series of gentle pecks on his lips, doing her best to soothe him in any way.

“Ask all the questions you want! You don’t have to worry about being judged or saying something wrong, you have a right to be curious.” She feels him relax in her hold which in turn makes her relax.

“Thank you for being patient with me,”

He’ll get used to this, he thinks. He’ll get used to the fact that real witches actually exist, he’ll start to understand the words she mutters when she waves her hands, he’ll get it eventually. But right now, he doesn’t really get it, he’s not really used to it. But she’s worth it. She’s worth more than everything.

“I think you’re the one thing I know how to be patient with,” Again, she wants to mutter those three words on the tip of her tongue, but he’s already been through so much today, she doesn’t want to overwhelm him any more than he already is. So she’ll wait, because one day (hopefully soon) he’ll be ready to hear them.

“Can you do a spell? I kind of want to see how they work…” Harry asks after a moment of them just enjoying the silence that only really comes when two people understand each other.

She chuckles and nods, telling him she will show him a few spells after dinner. He agrees and they go back to making their meal, dancing around each other and laughing just like they always did and it felt good. Felt like this would be ok. Y/n was still scared because he could still decide to leave, that this was too much for him. That she was too much for him.

But for right now, things were ok.

* .

. * .

“Amoris et lux sum ego ipse, et carorum beatum facere potest, per potentiam solem et lunam, ut superius, et inferius.”

(I am love and light, I bring happiness to myself and my loved ones, By the power of the sun and moon, as above, so below)

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything weirder in his life...and his college roommate freshman year was a conspiracy theorist.

As Y/n spoke the words, she stirred a brew of tea infused with different herbs clockwise. He watched from beside her as she did this, his hand placed on her thigh so that his energy could be used in the spell along with hers.

Before she said the spell, she told him to set an intention and he had no idea what that was so she did a little lesson after reassuring him that his question was valid. (He’s still feeling insecure about not understanding anything she was talking about.) She told him to “close your eyes, take a deep breath, and clear your mind. Think of something you want in life that isn’t material.”

His immediate thought was that he wanted to spread kindness and love in the world (Y/n did her best not to tear up at her Flame’s pure intentions) so she nodded, telling him to think about that and only that, and set her intentions to the same thing so the spell would work. Mixing lavender, rose petals, and chamomile in a large mug, she pours in hot water to steep the herbs and, as previously mentioned, stirs it clockwise (something about clockwise being for manifestation), , rubs her palms together and snaps her fingers, and snuffs out the candles she had lit.

When all is said and finished, Y/n pulls Harry into a sweet kiss, and then has him take a sip of the tea telling him be careful my Love, it’s still hot. He kisses her back, taking a sip of the tea (he’d never been one for lavender things but this was actually really good. He wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that Y/n made it).

“So we just drink this and then what?” He asks, handing her the mug.

“We sacrifice an animal,” She says, not skipping a beat and taking her sip. Harry chokes on his spit, gasping for a breath of air before the girl bursts into a fit of giggles.

“I’m just kidding, baby. That’s it. That’s the whole spell. You just have to honestly believe it for it to work.” She says and he heaves a sigh of relief.

“Don’t joke like that!” He whines, more giggles escaping from Y/n’s throat.

“I’m sorry bub, I won’t do that anymore.” She says, still fighting off laughs. They continue to sip the tea, Y/n telling Harry about different things she did during the day.

Harry looked upon her as if she hung the moon just for him, and was telling him all about how she did it. Without even realizing it, he started to feel warmer and like a buzz was coursing through his veins.

“I feel weird…”

“What do you mean you mean you feel weird?” She voiced, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead and then feeling his pulse. Both were normal.

“I feel warm and like I’m buzzing… Kind of like I’m high…” He explained and she nodded her head, a small sigh of relief escaping her.

“That’s the spell working baby. You’re ok!”

“Oh, ok. It just worried me a little,”

“You’re ok! I want you to tell me when something worries you or feels different or off.” She says, and places a hand on his thigh. Harry agrees and they continue with their conversation.

When they both took their last sips on the tea, they cuddled up on the couch, an incense stick and candle lit on the coffee table.

Y/n sat, manipulating the smoke and flame simultaneously while Harry watched with a wide eyed gaze. She had explained how this was something he would be able to learn if he wanted to, and that she had been practicing for years to be able to do both things at the same time.

“I started when I was… I want to say 5. It’s a simple skill that promotes concentration. You have to stay extremely focused to even manipulate one element at a time. It’s only been these last few years that I’ve been able to concentrate enough to do both.” She explained, taking a break. As much as she loved showing Harry all these different things, it took a lot of energy out of her and it had already been a dreadfully long day.

“How about we go to sleep and I’ll show you more tomorrow? I’m pooped!” Harry hums an agreement, lifting his head from her lap and letting her lead the way to her bedroom.

Light lavender walls adorned with shelves full of plants and different nicknacks, and a desk with more candles, herbs, and other eclectic items sat atop it.

“What is all of this?” He sifts through all the things on the desk, not touching as Y/n had explained to him at some point today, I know you don’t have any ill intent, but a lot of this stuff absorbs other people's energy which can mess up what I use it for, so look and don’t touch. If you want a closer look, I’ll pick it up. There are different colored stones of varied shapes and sizes and many candles. One in particular catches his eyes. A green one with a very tall flame with something carved into the side of it. “What’s up with this green candle?”

“This is my altar, and the green candle is the one I have lit for you. I’m assuming that because you’re here, it’s going a little crazy. Nothing to be afraid of! I’m actually going to put it out since you’re here with me.” She explained quickly, reaching towards the flame with her finger and snuffing it out.

“Wait, you had a candle lit for me?” His eyes rounded, a shy smile coming onto his lips. An identical smile graced her features as she turned to look at him.

“Yeah, I’ve had one lit for you since the day we met. I made a sigil and carved it into the side and keep it lit day and night as an extra layer of protection for you.” She explained. Harry felt his heart melt at this.

She couldn’t get any cuter, he thinks.

A candle lit for him… to keep him safe. That’s adorable.

He leans in and places a gentle kiss on her lips, brushing the little hairs away from her face.

Y/n led him further into her room where her ensuite bathroom was, giving him a tooth brush and letting him know he could shower if he wanted to. When he came back into the room after getting ready, Y/n laid out on the bed in a sports bra and shorts. He just wore his boxers.

Climbing into bed next to her, she cuddled up to him right away, his arm finding a home around her body and her head laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Been dreaming about this moment my whole life,” Y/n mumbled, cheek smushed against his skin, making her look all cute and cuddly. Harry had to hold back a coo at the sentiment.

“Me too Moppet, me too,” He sighed, and they both drifted off into warm, fluffy, dream-like states, wrapped in the safety of each other's arms.

* .

. * .

Walking down the street at night isn’t the best idea for normal women, Y/n had learned over her 22 years of life. But Y/n is not a normal woman. She’s a witch.

And while most women carry their keys between their knuckles and have tasers or pepper spray or mace at the ready, Y/n didn’t really need that. This was one of the only instances where she would use her magic to harm anyone. Like she’d said before- only when she’s put in danger (or someone else around her is put in danger).

So when a prick who reeks of whiskey starts tailing her, she waits for him to take the first blow. Waits for him to get a little too close, so she can turn around and unleash her wrath on him. All the while making it seem like it’s not her doing. Like causing a brink to fall off the roof above her and hit him in the head. She wouldn’t actually do that but a witch could dream.

No, she’ll trip him up without turning around and if he still insists on gaining her attention, she’ll spin around quick, flick her wrist and send him into an unconscious daze and let him sleep off his inebriation on the lovely warmth of the concrete sidewalk.

That’s exactly what she does.

“Hey sweetheart, where you goin’?” He slurs, beginning his trek behind her. She’s unresponsive which leads him to believe she’s playing hard to get because his fragile little man ego can’t fathom that a woman would ignore his attention.

“Oh c’mon baby don’t be like that!” He speeds up, already wobbling but this only serves to make him clumsier.

She does her thing, flicking her wrist in his direction (discreetly) so he trips, but this doesn’t stall him. He reaches out, effectively grabbing her arm. She whips around to face him, cheeks growing red hot with anger. Ripping her arm out of his grasp and twisting his arm around, she gets close to his face.

“Touch me again, I fucking dare you!” She snarls, doesn’t even realize her grip is burning into his flesh- her magic gets a little crazy when she’s mad. Releasing him (tossing his arm away from her in a rough manner), she flicks her wrist once again and mutters a quick “et obliviscere somnum*”, watching him fall to the ground, unconscious. She looked around to see if anyone was watching the scene go down but no one was sober enough to pay attention to some drunk bloke harassing a young woman.

*(forget and sleep)

She shakes off her frustration as she comes to a stop in front of an unfamiliar building. Where her Flame lives.

She had agreed to let him make her dinner at his house, so she packed an overnight back and made her way further into town. He had given her an address and while, yes she did use it, she also let their bond lead her to him. She just kind of knew where to go, it seemed. Harry had expressed that he felt something similar the first time he went into the shop, though he didn’t understand why he wanted to walk in- just felt like he had to.

Making her way up the stairs, she let’s Harry know she’s there, beginning to feel the familiar tingle rush down her spine. She hadn’t seen him for a week and a half since he's been busy with a project at work- a client wasn’t happy with all the work he and a coworker had done so they had to quickly re-do an entire proposal to meet the client's deadline. Needless to say- the little anti-anxiety jar she made him was coming in real handy lately. Y/n had also had him put citrine and amethyst points on his desk while he worked to help him focus and stay calm so he didn’t stress too badly.

She always had a little something to make his life easier, whether it be a stone, or a jar of different things (a spell jar, he’d learned), or whatever it may be- she always had something to help.

When she made it to his floor, he was standing there waiting for her with open arms. She ran to him, jumping into his arms and holding onto him tight.

“I missed you, my wild girl,” He muttered into her neck, spinning her around. Her face flushed without fail, her arms wrapping tighter around him.

“Missed you most,” She sighed, nuzzling into him.

“Don’t think that’s possible.”

She hummed in disagreement while he walked them inside, Y/n still wrapped around him like a koala bear. His house smelled of peach and mango. It’s sweet- just like him. The thought made her smile.

Giving him a big smacking kiss on the cheek, she pulls back to have a look at his face, seeing he’s smiling like an idiot. It warms her heart to see him smile, butterflies breaking out of their cocoons and fluttering about her tummy.

“What’re you smiling for?” She voices, giggling at him.

“M’ happy you’re here,” He sighed, “Don’t like not seeing you.”

“I don’t like not seeing you either,” She frowned, petting his wild curls back and placing little pecks all around his face.

His cheeks flushed at her affection.

Harry set Y/n down on the kitchen counter, standing in between her legs, hands resting on her hips. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers lightly, before slotting them together, fully indulging himself in his girl. She responds immediately, letting her hands rest around his neck.

She will never not be amazed by how soft his lips are. Kissing him feels like floating through clouds, like laying down in bed after a long day on your feet. Kissing him is like the first breath of warm summer air after the longest winter. Kissing him feels like coming home.

Y/n’s heartbeat picks up as the kiss becomes more needy, leaning into him further. Harry pulls her closer, his hands ghosting up the bare skin under her shirt and fiddling with the band of the bralette she’s wearing. A gasp escapes her lips when he pulled the fabric up, letting it snap back to her skin causing a smirk to grow on his face- struggling to keep up with her lips.

He kisses her breathless before pulling away, watching as her eyes flutter open and she heaves air into her lungs, her cheeks flushed and supple.

“Don’t want the food to burn,” He smirks again, hands falling away from her body, moving the pots and pans on the stove around to the counter so he could plate their dinner.

“Asshole,” He hears her mutter.

Harry could get used to this, having Y/n around. Being able to come home to her, make them dinner, make out in the kitchen, fall asleep together. He can’t believe he ever thought he loved anyone before she came along. There was just no way. Y/n came into his life and took over every aspect and now he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it. He hopes to the Stars he doesn’t have to.

Yeah, she’s got him praying to the stars now.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x witch!reader #witch!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #one direction #one direction fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #one shot #harry styles au #witch!harry #soulmate!harry #soulmates au #harry styles x soulemate!reader

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interact-if · 4 years ago

Photo

Day 3 of the Pride Month featured interviews! Presenting the absolute sweetheart... Ian! :chinhands:

Ian, author of The Masked Defenders

Pride Month Featured Author

The City of Cascadia is in peril as a new super powered villain rocks the ocean city. Couple that with mysterious disappearances and one very persistent vigilante, the city is close to collapsing into chaos. Luckily for its citizens, a team of superheroes is already on hand to deal with the mounting crisis. The newly reformed Masked Defenders.

Though it’s up to fate, and their ability to work together, to whether or not they’re capable of such a feat. Take on the role as a government agent tasked with ensuring that these superheroes succeed in their efforts to restore the peace. Make friends, or enemies, and maybe find something more in a city rife with danger at every turn. And maybe uncover secrets that were never meant to see the light.

Demo: The Masked Defenders, Dartun Station (TBA)

Tags: superhero

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT)

Q1: Tell us a little bit about your project(s)!

The Masked Defenders is my personal take on the superhero genre. It follows a powerless government agent tasked with helping a less than stellar team of superheroes. Through their own grit and determination, and oftentimes pure reckless impulse. As with all stories there’ll be moments where the agent has chances to change for the better or the worse. :) Government Intrigue, Action and a healthy helping of character relationships.

Dartun Station is a horror work that focuses on isolation, paranoia and unrelenting fear. You take on the role of a grief-stricken detective trying to salvage what remains of their reputation by solving a simple cold case way up north. It explores themes of identity while also turning some horror conventions on their head.

Q2: Why interactive fiction? What drew you to the medium?

Interactive fiction, I feel, is a good way to dive deeper into the story. From the characters, plot and setting, interactive fiction allows me to create a more vibrant and responsive world than what is provided by traditional mediums. My first interaction that hooked me on the world of IF’s was The Victorian Detective Series i stumbled upon a few years back.

Q3: Are your characters influenced by your identity? How?

Being a gay southeast asian man living in a country that’s both religious and often oppressive, my characters often share some things with my own reality. The Masked Defenders being focused on character relationships is full of inspiration from my life and identity. Garcia is still reeling from the severe societal expectations forced upon them by their own parents. Something many of us have encountered before.

Wright has some experiences being vilified by a strong-handed religious institution for being something considered unholy. Hence why they keep to themselves, not inclined to interact with others genuinely for fear of unfair prejudice. Eric Cruz is the most obvious, a happily married gay man. Pierce and Eric met on the job and well sparks flew, though very slowly.. His backstory I’d say would be the summary of my own fears and insecurities being met with a happy ending. His story is for another time. And as for the rest of the cast, I think I'll keep those under wraps for now.

Q4: What would you like to see more of in LGBT+ fiction?

More body positivity, people of color (specifically southeast asian and south asian stories) and healthy relationships. And the removal of the bury your gays trope, we have grown past the need of unhappy endings.

Q5: What or who are some of your biggest inspirations?

Agatha Christie, TJ Klune, Leigh Bardugo and Tierra/13 Leagues. And not to forget, Amelie the musical and the movie. Always start crying when that comes on.

Q6: What’s a super vague spoiler for your current project?

Apartment 40, Star Towers, 15th Street. And a code to decipher :) L'zgPecoipPsiBswCmefiVriDrqgxxNhQgd - Idhvuyr

Q7: Lastly, what advice would you give to your readers?

Keep on reading, loving and living. Fight for what you know is right. And most importantly be kind.

#if: events #Pride Month 2021 #pride month #queer authors #queer creators #queer fiction #interactive fiction

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dadsbongos · 4 years ago

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burn me to the ground

(1)gentle lover (2)burn me to the ground Movie/Game/Show: Thor: Ragnarok Dynamic: Loki Laufeyson/Reader Warnings: ragnarok spoilers?, passing description of you as toned/muscular cuz loki with gf who could crush him >>>, i give more time gap to thor's arrival cuz :), fem pronouns Summary: He’s never been one for such sentiment, maybe that’s why her influence is so terrifying to him. ~~~

“You wanted me to meet someone?”

“Right! Right, right, right,” the Grandmaster waves his hand in a gesture for Topaz to guide his chair through the room, “He was all mumble-y and murmur-ey and I heard your name, so I was thinking maybe you could tell me what this guy’s all about!”

Upon seeing the man in reference, your eyes widen and you nearly stumble back.

The man, however, immediately tilts his head and practically hisses out, “You.”

Well, no point in pretending to not know him now when he reacts like that. Sighing and tossing up your hands as if to show relief, you gush out an awfully whiny, “Aw, prince! Thank goodness you’re okay! I was so worried when we got separated!”

“So, how do you two know each other?” the Grandmaster’s smile is broad, if not slightly threatening, as he waggles a finger between the two people in front of him.

“I’m a sort of guard to your royal asshat.”

Loki doesn’t get the chance to speak up as the Grandmaster claps in response to you, “Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to know your track record here doesn’t show any signs of slacking!”

“Certainly, yes,” Loki nods curtly, not pleased at the prospect of a Midgardian - this Midgardian - having to watch over him again, “Reassuring to have her here.”

“I would be, look at her- " reaching over, the Grandmaster squeezes at your bicep, “So strong, she’s a great contender!”

“Contender…?” Loki murmurs to the woman, a brow quirked.

Smacking the prince’s arm, you shake your head before turning back to the Grandmaster, “Loki wouldn’t be a very good contender, he’s pretty frail and weak. Lame, too.”

“Aw,” wagging a finger as one would to a pestering child, the Grandmaster’s broad grin falls into a tight-lipped smile before he speaks, “Loyal guard trying to protect her prince, how sweet.”

“What can I say?” Loki notices the way you seem more on edge now, breath shakier, but you manage to mask it as light laughter, “Duties never rest.”

Nodding, the elderly man turns to Topaz, whispering in her ear before dismissing you both back to your quarters.

It’s as the door to the room shuts that Loki is greeted with the first hint of aggression he’s ever seen from you - not even in his time on Earth had he seen malice slip from you like he does now. The door slams and you wring your hands in your hair, nearly shouting as you turn to the God,

“You moron, why’d you have to go and say that? As if you know me? You could’ve gotten us killed.”

“But I do know you,” Loki held his hands up, pausing your rampant pacing, “Was I not supposed to try and find solace in the fact that I was on a new, strange planet with the one person I recognize?”

“You’re such an ass,” it’s a deflated insult, sighed out while you stomp over to the one bed in the room and slump down on it, “Just hope that nutjob believed me about you being weak.”

“Which, I believe we should have a talk about, by the way,” Loki’s brows furrow, “Why do that? I don’t need any protection nor defense, especially by the likes of you.”

“Unless you want to go as a gladiator and potentially be ripped in half by people twice your size, I would just take the label of weakling socialite and run with it. Hope you get on the Grandmaster’s good side like I have and eventually he maybe stops looking at you like a starving man to steak.”

“Haven’t quite gotten to that last bit, I imagine.”

“No, unfortunately not. It’s a little terrifying.”

It’s quiet as you rub at your aching temples and think over the situation. Loki turns and begins assessing the room - a room he hopes to not be stuck in.

“Are we to share this?”

“Probably,” yet another exhausted sigh slips from your lips, “I wouldn’t bother bringing it up to the old man, you might get vaporized.”

There’s a beat of silence before Loki chuckles, it’s forced and tight.

“Oh,” nodding, you lean back until you’re fully reclined on the bed, “you think I’m joking.”

The God’s eyes widen at that, turning to face you in alarm, “Are you not?”

Suddenly sitting up to untie your boots, you mutter, “I’m trying a slow coup. I was gonna do it on my own, but now you’re here so that’s minorly reassuring.”

“Coup?”

“Accident comes to the Grandmaster, we move up. I say we, but if you try and overthrow me for the throne, I will have to duel you. Duel at best, but at worst…”

Another pregnant silence flows through the room, Loki tilting his head, “You do realize how alarming that is when you don’t finish that sentence, right?”

“Good.”

It was an unlucky arrangement. Trapped on a trash planet, literally, with a Midgardian worm - whom he either has to share a bed with or rest on a loveseat for the nights. None of which is even mentioning the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster.

On the surface he’s light. Bubbly. Fun. And then someone drops a glass too close to his favorite new shoes and suddenly they’ve been pardoned from the land of the living and the stench of wretched toast permeates through the room.

It’s that memory that has Loki tuning out of the story of the man across from him. His hands fall to his thighs and begin rubbing away the sweat of nervousness that gathers there. The movements don’t go unseen, and the woman who assigned herself as his personal guard reaches down and takes his hand. Uncaring if the rest of the party sees as they cling to one another.

You aren’t Loki’s first choice of partnership but maybe that’s where he’d be wrong - because your grip is strong and it won’t let go unless it’s commanded. It’s comforting and reassuring and Loki can’t remember the last time someone held him like that as he breaks down. It isn’t just the hand holding at parties, it’s in the late nights when neither of you can sleep and your heads are too full of countless worries of each’s own home. It’s the way you hold him and don’t say a word of it the next day. Barely acknowledging it unless he brings it up first, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or pressured.

It’s kindness and genuinity and he thinks he wants to have you around all the time. After the Grandmaster. After Hela. Whenever and wherever that dust happens to settle, he knows he wants this comfort all the time.

Storytime comes around to Loki. His fingers curl tighter around your hand as he speaks, occasionally taking a break to sip at his neon drink when there’s a hearty whisper-shout of both your names,

“Over here!”

God of Thunder, you notice. Thor of Asgard. You two excuse yourselves from the couch of socialites to cross the room to Thor.

“Thor? You’re alive?” you begin, eyes wide.

“Of course, I’m alive, what’re you two doing? Why aren’t you stuck in a chair? Where’s your chairs?”

“We didn’t get one,” Loki shakes his head.

“Get me out,” Thor urges, still thoroughly confused over the presence of his brother and old friend.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

Nodding, Loki continues, “We’ve gotten in favor with the Grandmaster. In his higher courts.”

“Like friends but scary,” you pitch in, “We’ve been here a few weeks. Maybe a month.”

“A month?" Thor repeats in utter disbelief, "I just got here.”

“What’re you guys whispering about?” the Grandmaster himself juts into the conversation with a giggle, “Time works different around these parts. On any other world I’d be like millions of years old, but on Sakaar…” he stops and looks between the trio with a teasing grin before shaking his head, “In any case, you two know this… what’d you call yourself - Lord of Thunder…?”

“God of Thunder,” Thor corrects with a forced chuckle.

“I’ve never met this man in my life,” Loki immediately denies.

“He’s my brother.”

Rolling your eyes at the brothers, you’re quick to gesture to Loki, “Adopted.”

The Grandmaster nods, “He any kind of a fighter?”

“You take this thing out of my neck and I’ll show you.”

That’s how they find out that - at the very least, Thor’s alive. Not well, but certainly alive.

The night after that party is mostly quiet in the room. Presently, both people are getting ready for bed but inside their minds is such fueled turmoil that neither truly believes they’re getting rest that night. Upon finishing his state of dress, Loki makes his way out to the balcony.

Air on Sakaar isn’t particularly fresh or clean, nor are the stars incredibly visible with all the city lights, but it felt better out there than being trapped in a room. He’s soon joined by another body at the railing, hands barely brushing together on the roughened metal.

It’s Loki that makes the first move, slowly sliding his hand across the rail until his entwined with yours. Your fingers weave together and Loki can’t help but balance his gaze between your conjoined hands and your eyes. He remembers a time where he used to look into those eyes and see an enemy - now, he can’t imagine a time where he would’ve ever wanted to hurt someone such as you. Can't believe there was a time where he wanted to hurt you. Your care is expressed in tender touches and loyalty. In quiet moments of trust and earnest adoration. In honesty. It's that silent care that speaks the loudest.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his own thoughts, “When this whole thing is over and Sakaar is ruined and Thor will have the throne, where will you go?”

Loki falls silent at that question, he brushes a thumb over your knuckles, pursing his lips and tilting his head as he thinks over what response would fit best. Then he comes to the realization that it wouldn’t matter where he lies as long as he has comfort that lies with him. Comfort that sleeps inside the woman beside him is what he wants.

And so, he mumbles out, “Where will you want me?”

There’s a laugh pulled from you as your head shakes, “You wouldn’t want to go to Earth. Unless you’d like the Avengers up your ass.”

There’s a shared laugh as Loki relents, speaking before laying a kiss to your knuckles, “I wouldn’t be fond of that… but for you, my dear, I’d tear the universe apart.”

“That sounds like exactly why they wouldn’t want you. Sorry to say they’re not fond of universe-tearing.”

A sarcastic huff falls from the prince, “I’m charming and romantic and this is how I’m repaid?”

“However, I can’t say that’s not excellent bargaining to keep you on a leash,” you grin.

“Like a dog?”

“Well, now,” looking away, your lip is tucked between your teeth to muffle possible laughter.

Loki doesn’t follow your example, instead he studies the planes of your face. The curve of your cheek and the way your eyes are lit up by the stars and lights that flow in this city. You’re beautiful. That, he knows. And despite being trapped on Sakaar, he also knows he’s grateful to have someone like you. To have you.

Strong, both in emotional resolve and psychical capability. It’s nice to have someone who can stay level-header and offer support. It makes him want to care and provide for you as well, and that’s what scares him.

You make him want to return sentiment when all he’s cared for before was letting things burn.

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki fanfic

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amethystpath-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Date Beneath the Stars

“Hey, hun?” Villain pulled a sleeve down to the appropriate length. He did the same to the other side, but not before he checked to make sure the key beneath his watch would stay in place throughout the night. “We need to leave in about ten if we want to make it in time for our reservation!”

Hero answered- a little exasperated, “I know, I know! I just need to finish putting up my hair!”

A corner of Villain’s mouth lifted. Hero wouldn’t be done in ten minutes; she never was when it came to her hair. She wasn’t used to doing her hair, wasn’t used to doing fancy things. At the end of it all, Hero always felt she looked ridiculous and over-the-top, so she would redo it all. It was with these thoughts that Villain took it upon himself to walk downstairs and find his wife in the bathroom. “You look exquisite, love.” He peered at her in the mirror, the tiniest of a smirk playing on his lips.

The hand hovering above Hero’s head faltered as she met Villain’s eyes in the reflection. She watched as he stepped forward, placing two warm hands on her shoulders, and leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Do you really think so?” she asked, head leaning back to rest against his chest, but careful not to ruin her carefully arranged hair.

“Of course, my darling.” His hands trailed down Hero’s arms until he found her hands. “You don’t even have to try.”

“Ha! Of course, I have to try, Villain. We’re going to Great Stars.”

Villain shrugged. “The folks who go there go once and never again. It’s a shame,” he said. “The food and service are amazing. The atmosphere is otherworldly. Great Stars is the closest to heaven you will ever get. The owner put a lot of good, hard work into it.”

Hero smiled, turning in Villain’s arms until she was face to face with him. She reached, arms circling his shoulders and neck- for once, she was thankful for the heels she wore. “I don’t know about that. I thought paradise was being in your arms.”

***

The restaurant was as beautiful and extravagant as Villain said- still not as heavenly as being with him, but it was certainly a sight for sore eyes. The food was like nothing Hero had ever tasted. It was…expensive, as expensive as the online reviews said, but Villain had the money.

Living richly was something Hero was still growing accustomed to, even after being married to Villain for three years. Villain was an analyst at a local science museum- a very touristy museum. With as much as Hero hated math, she believed that someone would pay lots of money to make anyone else do it.

Hero’s phone buzzed in her pocket half-way through dinner. She checked it:

EMERGENCY- under the radar meeting…

“Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom. I’ll…be right back.”

Hero could have sworn Villain’s phone buzzed, too, but that was unlikely, especially as he asked, “Are you okay?” For a moment, it seemed like he was about to ask something else, but he stopped himself, mouth scrunched up to one side in anticipation of what was wrong with his wife.

Beginning to stand with her purse, Hero nodded unconvincingly. “Yeah, fine.” The purr in his voice, his accent, almost compelled her to sit back down. This was important, though. She needed to check what the rest of the text said. “Just…drank my drink too fast.”

Villain nodded and gestured in direction of the bathrooms. Hero left without another word, already pulling her phone up closer to her eyes. She unlocked her phone so that she could read the whole message. It read:

EMERGENCY- under the radar meeting located under Great Stars restaurant. Call the bureau as soon as possible and in a discreet location.

Under Great Stars? But that’s where Hero was. There was no way there was criminal activity going on just beneath her feet, was there? She shook her head, pushing the bathroom door open. Checking each stall with a knock and discovering she was alone, Hero decided this was a safe place to contact the bureau.

The phone rang once. “Hero?”

“Yeah, Leader, it’s me. What’s going on? I’m at Great Stars right now.”

Silence followed for the slightest moment. “Already? I haven’t even given you the mission yet. You know you’re supposed to wait for proto-”

“I’m on a date with my husband…and I’m in a cocktail dress. If this is as urgent as you say…” Hero couldn’t walk into some underground crime conference in a dress like she was wearing- all sequenced and- well, it was a little short if she was honest- short for her own taste, at least. It barely reached her knees. Not to mention, there was little defence she could perform while in a dress.

Leader sighed on the other end of the line. “It is urgent. Bunch of gang bosses gathering to make long term alliances. No doubt there’s going to be disagreements and objections. With hundreds of people just above their heads, I don’t doubt there will be casualties.”

Hero cocked her head to the side. “Why would there be casualties? No one in Great Star has anything to do with any mobs. It’s just a bunch of richies and wannabes dining on overly priced servings of food.”

“One of the bosses, man from [Country] was spotted walking in by one of our team members. He owns the whole restaurant, and knowing him, he’ll cause a ruckus with one of the other men or women. One thing will lead to another, Great Stars goes down with a bang.”

It was Hero’s turn to sigh. “How long do I have to get home and change?”

“Change? Hero, I need you down there now.”

“I’m in a-”

“You’re undercover,” Leader snapped. He gave another sigh. “Just…act ditzy and like you stumbled into the wrong place- drunk on white wine. I’ve already contacted Other Hero. He’ll be going in under disguise, too. You’ll recognize him. Just…stall until he gets there, and as soon as he is, get out, get your husband out in case this blows over.”

Taking a deep breath and casting a cautionary glance at the bathroom door, Hero asked, “How do I get in?”

***

“The Underneath” was as anyone might expect a gang boss secret lair to be. Smoke flittered through the room in long, grotesque strings. The air was stuffy with not only the smell of casual cigarettes, but cigars. Hero hated cigars. Beyond the smell, though, it was dark. Lights hung from the ceiling, but Hero could hardly tell what she was looking at beyond the smoky air, though that was also because the lights were dim. Hero almost guessed she would be able to manoeuvre around the room better if she had no sight at all. Trying to touch what little she could see was more misleading than the endless trail of smoke.

Before much longer, Hero stumbled into a doorway- rather loudly at that- and upon stepping through, she found a circle of men and women at a felt-top table. Squinting her eyes wasn’t much of an act- she had already been squinting them from all the nicotine-filled air floating into her pretty whites and making them pink. If anyone had to guess, they’d think Hero was drunk and high.

Someone cleared their throat, and Hero let a bubble of feigned laughter spill out. “Now thas a funny noise.” She made a sound like hehe.

“Who is this?” A man’s voice responded- an angered man’s voice. “This looks like one of the restaurant goers!” The sound of a chair squealing made Hero jump. Her eyes opened just slightly to analyse her situation. Fortunately, she was able to spot individual faces. Unfortunately, she recognized one.

Hero swallowed, tucking her chin down into her chest. “Sorry, must’ve stumbled into the wrong room.” She masked her voice as well as she could, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyways. The person she recognized, recognized her in just the same instant.

Taking a step back, Hero felt the moment of doom every character in a horror or thriller movie does when their back meets something solid while they’re not looking. Hands grasped Hero’s shoulders and, without a word or even a grunt of notice, shoved Hero forward. She nearly tripped on her heels.

Goodness, she couldn’t think, and she couldn’t look up either. She wouldn’t allow herself to accept the fact that she recognized that…that person at the table.

“Hero?”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the voice. No. No. No! Hero’s phone was in her purse- she kept it unzipped in case there was an emergency, but…God, she couldn’t call the bureau, not against��not against Villain. Not against her husband of three years. The man she loved and adored. The one she called Paradise. The one whose lips she became drunk off of.

Hands touched her own and she drew in a sharp gasp. “Don’t touch me,” she rushed out. But this was her husband. If anything, she wanted him to lead her away from this dark and dank room. At the same time, he was…well, he was in this room- this room full of gang and mob bosses. He was- “Are you one of them?” she asked.

Before Villain had the chance to respond, the man from before spoke up, “Villain, what the hell is this? Are you going to dispose of her or not?”

A round of mumbles filled the room and Hero swallowed. The hands holding her own weren’t her husband’s. They couldn’t have been. This man in the room talked to Villain like they knew one another. And what about the whole ‘dispose of her’ ordeal? Dispose of. Kill? Had the people in this room killed those who wandered in? Even if they were drunk and unaware?

“Give me a minute, [Other Villain].” To Hero, Villain whispered, “Come here. It’s okay.”

Hero shook her head. It wasn’t okay. Nothing about any of this was okay. Villain was…Villain was a criminal- one of those disgusting men who shot poor guys when they didn’t kill a meaningless enemy for them.

Leading her out of the room, Villain asked her, “What are you doing down here, love?” How could he use that name for her in a moment like this?

“Me? You. You are supposed to be waiting for me to come out of the bathroom. What is- what are you”- Hero shook her head then realized Villain still held onto her. She brushed him away rather roughly. “I don’t- I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain everything later, okay?”

“Later? Villain, there are criminals in there.” She pointed in the direction they came from- at that stupid room of ‘Wanted’ faces. “You need to- no, I can’t do this right now. Oh my…”

Other Hero would be here any moment. Leader had contacted him before he did Hero, which meant he would be so close- so close to busting all the men and women in that room- so close to busting Villain. She should warn Villain, shouldn’t she? He was her husband, the love of her life. Hero had to protect him…but he was a criminal.

Leader’s words floated back to her. ‘One of the bosses, man from [Country] was spotted walking in by one of our team members. He owns the whole restaurant…’

Villain owned the Great Stars and was putting everyone up there in danger by having this stupid meeting. Maybe she should let him be caught.

“Hero.” Villain purred her name, something he always knew plucked just the right strings. “You seemed like you were about to say something.”

“That man asked if you were going to dispose of me. Are you?”

Villain gave the tiniest laugh- though one might say it was more like a huff. “If by ‘dispose of you,’ you mean I am sending you home, then yes.”

Anger was beginning to bubble up inside of Hero. She couldn’t believe how…how nonchalant Villain was being about this. It was as if the fact that he killed people, demanded money, corrupted businesses- and all under the radar- was no big deal at all. Villain was ruining people’s lives and he didn’t even care.

“What happened to ‘our date beneath the stars?’”

Date beneath the stars. Damn Villain! The restaurant was called Great Stars, and the secret room was called The Underneath. In a way, he’d already told her what this date was, which was not a date at all. She couldn’t say that she picked up on his clue, though; it would mean revealing her own hidden identity to him.

“I need to get back. Otherwise, you will become a casualty.”

Casualty. Hero wouldn’t mind if she were a casualty as long as everyone else in the restaurant didn’t become one. “Take me in there with you,” Hero said.

“In the-” Villain’s eyes glanced behind Hero, at the room where all the other bosses were.

Hero nodded. “I’m your wife. Let me be a part of…of whatever this is.” Did she mean it? Partially. She would always protect her husband- it was second nature to her now, but…she didn’t agree with what he was doing, and she would talk him out of it as best she could.

The two stayed silent as Villain considered her offer. After a minute, he asked her, “How did you know to come down here?”

Seeing the sudden glare Villain was pinning her with, Hero felt somewhat frightened. He was looking at her like she was a meal- like she was prey. A rabbit beneath a wolf’s jaws. As much as Hero wanted to deny her husband’s apparent occupation, this look he was giving her was clear evidence.

“You weren’t at the table when I came out. I just…started to wander around.”

“Remind me what your boss’ name is?”

Hero swallowed. She gave a fake name.

“No,” Villain drawled innocently. “I think it was something else…Leader, maybe?” His hand reached up to tuck a piece of Hero’s hair back. She flinched back, but ultimately let his hand settle on her cheek. “I thought it was a coincidence,” he said.

“What do you-”

He shushed her gently, like a baby. “The name always rang a bell, but I was hopeful. I didn’t know for sure until you meandered into my meeting.” Without needing Hero to question him again, Villain declared, “You work for The Bureau.”

“The…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Villain ignored her. “Thing is, I know how The Bureau works, which means I know you aren’t working alone. So, how long do I have to tell the other bosses they jacked up and got us caught?”

Hero looked Villain in the eyes before dropping her gaze to his chest. There was no way out of this. He knew. “Your fellow heathens weren’t the problem.”

“Is that right?”

“What are you doing, Villain?” She touched his hand which was still on her cheek. “I’m your wife. I’m your love, right?”

He smiled at her with a quick flip of the switch. “Of course you’re my love, but…” He dropped his hand away and walked past her towards the smoky room. “Right now, you are an enemy. I need you to go home.” Villain added, “Before you get hurt.”

She didn’t wait. She left The Underneath and Great Stars as quickly as she could. As she left, she pulled her phone out and dialled Leader’s phone. “Call Other Hero off.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “He knows. Villain knows. There’s at least twenty of them down there and Other Hero will die. Do not send him down there.”

“Hero, he’s already pinged me from the building. What the hell happened?”

******

Part 2 here

#NOT A PROMPT #hero x villain #hero x villain story #good hero #evil villain #<- I feel like that doesn't need specified but the tags are popular so...#drabble #hero x villain drabble #yada yada yada #I really liked this one #Up until I read it over to edit it #The life of a writer <3 #fluff #angst #I can't think of other tags

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letterboxd · 3 years ago

Photo

Work Horse.

Taking on a rare leading role in his decades-spanning career, national treasure Tim Blake Nelson speaks with Mitchell Beaupre about demystifying heroes, reinventing genres and something called a quiche Western.

“This film is unapologetic about all the tropes that it’s deploying in service of telling the story... You’ve got a satchel full of cash. You’ve got gunslinging, physical violence, and feeding somebody to the pigs.” —Tim Blake Nelson

Described by Letterboxd members as “a national treasure” who “makes everything better”, Tim Blake Nelson is a journeyman actor who has tapped into practically every side of the industry since making his feature debut in Nora Ephron’s This Is My Life back in 1992. Whether you are a Marvel fanatic, a history buff or a parent trying to get through the day, the actor’s distinctive presence is a charming sight that’s always welcome on the screen.

Tim Blake Nelson is one of those rare actors who unites all filmgoers, a man genuinely impossible not to love, which certainly seems to be the case for Hollywood. Checking off working relationships with directors ranging from Terrence Malick and Ang Lee to Hal Hartley and Guillermo Del Toro, Nelson has covered the boards, even crossing over into directing and writing, both in films and on the stage.

Yet, despite being a renowned talent who can take a smaller supporting role in a massive Steven Spielberg blockbuster starring Tom Cruise and carry the film, Nelson-as-leading-man sightings have been few and far between. In fact, it’s quite a struggle to find a film with Nelson in a leading role, as even playing the titular role for directors who understand his greatness still results in him only appearing in the opening section of an anthology feature.

At last, the leading role Nelson fans were in need of has arrived in the form of Old Henry, a new Western from writer/director Potsy Ponciroli. Nelson plays the eponymous Henry, a widowed farmer with a mysterious past who makes a meager living with his son (Gavin Lewis), doing his best to leave his old life behind and hide away from the world. Things get complicated when Henry stumbles upon a satchel of cash and a wounded stranger (Scott Haze), bringing them both into his home. Soon, a dangerous posse led by an intimidating Stephen Dorff comes calling, setting the stage for an old-fashioned throwdown in this twisty Western siege thriller.

Premiering at the Venice Film Festival, Old Henry has been warmly received on Letterboxd. “Old Henry feels like the culmination of Tim Blake Nelson’s twenty-plus-year career, but from another dimension, where he’s highly regarded as a leading man”, writes Noah, speaking not only to the strength of Nelson’s performance, but also to the fact that this leading role shouldn’t be such a rarity. Todd awards Nelson the prize for “Best Facial Hair in a 2021 film”, before applauding the actor for pouring “every emotion in his body to play Henry”.

Letterboxd’s East Coast editor Mitchell Beaupre saddled up for a chat with Nelson about the intentional hokiness of the Westerns that made him fall in love with filmmaking, how the Coen brothers put other directors on notice, and the fatherly joy of keeping it all in the family.

I’ve seen a lot of interviews with you discussing your career as an actor, a writer, and a director. You always speak with such reverence for the art. Where does that passion come from for you? What made you want to pursue this field? Tim Blake Nelson: It’s funny, doing these interviews for Old Henry has been reminding me of my introduction to filmmaking as an art. I’ve realized that I had never quite located it, but it really started with the Sergio Leone Westerns, which I would see on television when I was growing up in Oklahoma in the ’70s. Before that, going to the cinema was always invariably a treat, no matter what the film, but I would just be following the story and the dialogue.

The Sergio Leone movies were the first ones that exposed subjectivity in telling stories on film to me. That was where I became aware of the difference between a closeup and an extreme closeup, or how you could build tension through a combination of the angle on a character with the editorial rhythm, with the lens size, with the music in addition to the dialogue and the story.

How old were you when this shift in your understanding of cinema was happening? I think it was across the ages of ten and eighteen, where I suddenly realized that this was an auteur here, Leone. There was a guy behind all these movies I was seeing—and in Oklahoma, you could see a Sergio Leone movie every weekend. This was a man making deliberate and intelligent decisions in everything that I was seeing.

I started noticing that a character was in a duster that goes all the way down to his boots, even though that’s not necessarily accurate to the Old West. That’s something else. Also, why is he wearing it in the desert? Would that have been very practical? And look at that cigar Clint Eastwood is smoking. It’s not smooth, it looks like it was a piece of tree root. Then later I learned it’s a particular kind of Italian cigar, but somehow it was defining this genre of Western. I marveled at that, and found it unbelievably thrilling to discover. I loved the stories and the dialogue and the intentional hokiness of it all. All of it was conspiring to teach me to venerate this form.

Sergio Leone, his daughters, and Clint Eastwood on the set of ‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly’ (1966).

The connection there is interesting between the Leone Westerns to where Old Henry is at now. You’ve talked before about how the Western genre is one that is reinvented over and over throughout the years— Oh, you do your homework!

I try my best! What would you say defines the current era of Westerns that we’re seeing, and how the genre is being reinvented? Well, Joel and Ethan [Coen] did a lot of mischief, in a good way, with The Ballad of Buster Scruggs. Genres are always about genres, in addition to their story. So, I would say that Buster Scruggs is the quintessential postmodern Western, if you look at it as one movie instead of as an anthology, because it celebrates the history of the form. The magic of that movie is that it engages you in each story while also being a meditation on death. That’s what connects each one of those tales, and then it’s also a meditation on storytelling to boot. In the final chapter, you have a character talking about why we love stories, and he’s telling it to a bunch of people who you’ll learn are all dead.

The stories are a way of delaying the inevitable mortality. I mean, look at that. It’s such an accomplishment. With that movie, I think Joel and Ethan put filmmakers on notice that Westerns had better always be also about Westerns, because whether you like it or not, they are. I think they probably came to understand that when they were making True Grit, although knowing the two of them they probably understood it already.

Do you feel there’s a direct correlation between a movie like Buster Scruggs and Old Henry, in this era of postmodern, revisionist Westerns? How it impacts a movie like Old Henry is that you have Potsy embracing the Western-ness of the movie. This film is unapologetic about all the tropes that it’s deploying in service of telling the story. You’ve got the cantankerous old man hiding a past, who’s a maverick who wants to keep the law and the bad guys off his property. He wants to be left alone. You’ve got a satchel full of cash. You’ve got gunslinging, physical violence, and feeding somebody to the pigs. Yet, it’s all accomplished without irony in a very straightforward way that is utterly confident, and in love with the genre.

I think ultimately that’s why the movie works, because it’s very front-footed. It’s not hiding from you. It’s not deceiving you and trying to tell you it’s something that it isn’t. It’s a good, straightforward Western.

Tim Blake Nelson as the titular singer in ‘The Ballad of Buster Scruggs’ (2018).

That’s a bit different from those Leone Westerns, with all of their anachronisms. I remember when the movie Silverado came out when I was growing up, and people were calling it a “quiche Western”, which was funny. That was what they would call it in Oklahoma because it had a bunch of movie stars in it, who weren’t known for being in Westerns. It was the Sergio Leone crowd calling it that. I went and saw it, wondering, “Well, if it’s a quiche Western, then why is everybody talking about it?” I saw it, and I loved it. Those folks putting it down like that were wrong. It’s actually a straightforward, hard-boiled, hardcore unapologetic Western. You don’t like some of the movie stars in it, but get over it. The reason that movie works is because it’s straight-ahead and well-told, and I think that movie holds up.

Old Henry is the same kind of animal. It’s more in the tradition of Sergio Leone—or, actually, I would say more in the tradition of Unforgiven. That was a big influence on Potsy.

Unforgiven was marvelous in the way it demystified that old black hat/white hat mentality of Westerns, opening up a more multi-dimensional understanding. You’re no stranger to that. A series like Watchmen takes that approach with superheroes, who in a sense hold the position now that Western heroes used to hold culturally. Do you find there’s more of a demand these days to challenge those archetypes who used to be put on pedestals—be they superheroes, cowboys, police—and provide a deeper analysis? Absolutely, yes. At the same time, I think the demystified Western hero goes back to John Wayne in The Searchers. I think it really started with that character, one of the greatest characters ever in a Western. There’s One-Eyed Jacks, with Marlon Brando, which was made just after The Searchers, and again embracing this concept of an extremely complicated man. I don’t think you get the Sergio Leone movies without that.

I always think of McCabe & Mrs. Miller as a Western that was doing something totally different than anything I had seen before. That’s another one, with that final image with the character smoking opium, going into oblivion after the demise of Warren Beatty’s very flawed character, after you’ve watched what it has taken to really build that town. You have a director, Robert Altman, making the deliberate choice to shoot in order so that they can build the town while they’re shooting the movie, and you really get the cost of it. I think there’s a lot of history to get to a place where a movie like Unforgiven can happen. Then Clint comes along and, as he often does, moves it forward even more.

Gavin Lewis as Henry’s son Wyatt in ‘Old Henry’.

That’s a film that tackles legacy, as does Old Henry, which at its core is ultimately about the relationship between a father and his son. You got to work on this film with your own son, coincidentally named Henry, who was part of the art department. What is that experience like, getting to share your passion with your son on a project together? Well, I think something that is true for the character of Henry and for myself, and perhaps all of us, is that we all want our kids to have better lives than ours. I want that to be true in every respect. Mostly, I want them to be more fulfilled than I have been. My kids look at me when I say that and say, “Thanks a lot Dad for raising that bar”, because they see that I have a pretty good life. Which I do, but I still think they can be more fulfilled than I am, and I want that for them. One of the great privileges of this movie was to watch my son—who was the on-set decorator—work his ass off.

Those are the words of an incredibly proud father. He’s a work horse, and he’s learning about filmmaking, and I think on his current trajectory he will go beyond where I’ve gone as a filmmaker, directing more movies than I’ve been able to direct. Do a better job at it, too. He’s also a singer-songwriter, and I think he can have a venerable career doing that if he wants, but he wants to make movies too, and I hope that’s going to happen for him. It was a thrill to watch him do the work, the twelve- and fourteen-hour days, and after every take resetting and making sure everything was right. It felt like an accomplishment to see him take on that responsibility and do the real work every day.

Related content

SJ Holiday’s lists of Essential Neo-Westerns and Essential Modern Westerns

The Best Neo-Westerns of the 21st Century, according to JS Lewis

Our interview with Slow West director John Maclean

Follow Mitchell on Letterboxd

‘Old Henry’ is in US theaters now and on VOD from Friday, October 8.

#tim blake nelson #old henry #western #westerns #western movies #sergio leone #clint eastwood #stephen dorff #letterboxd #mitchell beaupre #coen brothers #coen bros #buster scruggs #joel coen #ethan coen

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dalekofchaos · 4 years ago

Text

Rey’s lack of motivation and stake in the Sequel Trilogy

I have a question to ask you. What are Rey’s motivations? What are her wants and goals and why is she even drawn to the conflict between The First Order and The Resistance?

Rey’s motivations in the Sequels.

Rey wants to find her parents.

Wants to bring back Luke Skywalker

Rey wants to find her place

Wants Ben to return to the light

Has no real motivation to be on either side of the conflict, but chooses The Resistance anyway

Says she wants to kill Palpatine in cold blood, was close to giving in

Now she chose to fuck off to Tatooine and we see very little in her motivation to do....ANYTHING

Let’s compare Anakin and Luke’s motivations.

What are Anakin's motivations?

Wants to leave a life of slavery and come back and free his mother

Wants to become a Jedi and become a hero

Wants to protect Padme

Wants to save Obi-Wan

Wants to stop Dooku and end the war before it can begin

Wants to be a good master to Ahsoka

Wants to clear Ahsoka’s name

Wants to stop the war

Wants to save Padme and his children's lives at the cost of the Jedi and doing whatever it takes and becomes Darth Vader

What are Luke’s motivations?

Luke is a farm boy who dreams of leaving his mundane life.

Luke discovers that his father -unlike what his uncle told him, was a heroic Jedi Knight

Luke, is reluctant and refuses the ‘call to adventure’, but after the Empire murders his Aunt and Uncle, he decides to Join Obi-Wan on the quest.

Save the Princess

Luke is angered by Obi-Wan’s death at the hands of Darth Vader, and seeks retribution.

Destroy the Death Star and save the Rebellion

To be trained by Yoda

Save Han and Leia

Luke discovers his father, the heroic Jedi, is none other than Darth Vader. After years of training, he sets out to redeem his father and turn him back to the light.

After the redemption of his father and fall of the Empire, Luke goes on a journey to restore The Jedi Order

Compare Rey and Luke’s journeys in ANH and TFA. Rey wanders around and stuff is handed to her. Luke takes initiative and works for what he has. Let's compare ANH with TFA

Luke screws up on watching R2, then chooses to chase him down. He makes another mistake by spying on the Tusken Raiders instead of getting the hell out of dodge. This leads to him being knocked out, and rescued by Ben Kenobi.

Luke initiates the meeting with Ben Kenobi, and it happens because of his early bad decisions.

His aunt & uncle are killed, but thanks to his screw-up with R2 & the raiders, he and the droids are spared.

He chooses to follow Kenobi to Alderaan instead of staying on Tattooine.

He chooses to accept Kenobi's instruction in the ways of the Force, even though most people think it's a myth and a joke. Even though he's bad at it and doesn't seem to get any results at first.

He makes the decision that they're going to rescue Leia, potentially dooming their escape from the Death Star. This sets off a chain of events that leads to Kenobi's death.

Then he chooses to help fight the Death Star, even though he's not a member of the rebellion. He was offered a job with Han, and he could have ensured his safety by leaving with them. Instead he chose certain death.

Finally, he chooses to trust a literal voice in his head instead of the targeting computer.

Let's contrast that with Rey.

BB-8 runs into her. She tries to send him away, but relents and lets him follow her home.

She chooses not to sell him for food.

Finn wanders into camp on his own initiative.

The camp is attacked because BB-8 is there. The camp would have been attacked no matter what Rey did. The other scavenger was, I'm pretty sure, from the same camp. And if she'd sold him, BB-8 would also have still been in the camp.

She is forced to take the Millennium Falcon when the ship she wanted to use was blown up.

She chooses to go with Finn and bring BB-8 to the Rebellion Resistance.

She stumbles upon Luke's lightsaber, and runs away from it.

She accidentally runs into Kylo Ren while hiding in the forest.

He chooses to kidnap her because he senses something special about her.

After her first exposure to the Force, she learns how to use some of it, successfully, and escapes from Ren. And to her credit, escaping and trying the Force out is a choice she made, rather than something that passively happened to her.

Then she, um, is standing there when Han is killed.

She chooses to fight Kylo Ren, and beats him in her first lightsaber battle after closing her eyes and thinking about the Force.

She sort of chooses to go summon Luke back to civilization - I say sort of because it's not clear why she was picked to go over, say, Leia.

Luke makes mistakes, and he is an active participant in his story. Rey is just kind of there, most of the time. She doesn't make mistakes, but she doesn't really do much else.

Rey has no personal stake in this war or motivations and she’s supposed to be the main protagonist.

Rey has never left Jakku before TFA and she tells Han that ”she never knew so much green existed” when they go to Maz’s castle.

In other words Rey must have had very limited knowledge of the world outside of Jakku and all she has heard from it are stories.

Rey who barely knows anything about the rest of the galaxy, to the point that she didn’t even know that forests existed what exactly is her personal stake in the current galactic conflict?

In TFA we saw The New Republic’s capital systems blown up by Starkiller Base and we never saw a reaction from Rey. We do see Finn and Han’s reactions. Also worth noting about Rey is that if she was unconscious throughout her involuntary travel to the Starkiller Base she was never actually aware of the Starkiller Base until just before Han, Finn and Chewie started planting the explosions in order to sabotage it.

Luke, while he had no personal attachments to Aldeeran did actually get to see the horrible aftermaths of it’s destruction.

But Rey was barely affected by the destruction of the Capital systems. Most characters were not as affected as they should have been in my opinion but we didn’t even get to see her have an emotional reaction to it.

This was probably the greatest genocide in Star Wars history and our main heroine is unaffected by it? Finn has a reaction to it and he’s supposedly NOT the main protagonist?

Rey really has no reason to care about the state of the galaxy. She only seems to care if people she knows are in danger.

The fact that she is supposed to be our main hero of this trilogy when she has next to no personal stakes in the well-being of the rest of the galaxy feels wrong to me.

Finn actually has stakes in this conflict since the FO took his family and childhood away from him and Poe has stakes because he actually lives in the New Republic and doesn’t want it to be under FO’s rule. Yet neither Finn nor Poe are considered the main protagonist? But oh wait, I forgot we can’t have a black or Latino man be the leading protagonist in Star Wars

The more I think about it is Rey has no goals or agency as a protagonist. She’s just whatever the plot demands her to be. Rey doesn’t actively take the initiative and make decisions, and simply react to the world around her. There is never a reason given as to why she wants to be a Jedi. Sure, she’s heard the stories about them, but she doesn’t dream to be one like Anakin, and the writers are so obsessed over her parents that they never develop any other motivation besides that. She has to be strung along the story so she can take part in it, hence she is repeatedly chased and kidnapped throughout TFA to get her to the Resistance where she decides to find Luke because she has nowhere else to go. Part of the reason she doesn’t even train with Luke is because she has no reason to, as she’s just supposed to find him. Rey joins the fight simply in reaction to learning that Luke is responsible for Ben’s fall. She’s only ever a Jedi and a member of the Resistance out of necessity- she has no where left to go and has to fight in self defense- so they try hamfist in some motives that she needs to stop herself from becoming like Palpatine but there is no tension as it’s the final act. By the end of the trilogy it’s not even clear if the Jedi Order will return because Rey never seems to want to be one and we can only assume they will return for meta reasons- because the audience knows the ST is a copypasta of the OT.

What exactly was Rey’s motivation for getting involved in the Galactic conflict before TROS? Luke was told that his father was killed by Darth Vader and later his family gets murdered by the empire so he had personal stakes to get involved in the conflict.

Anakin was a Jedi and had lived in the Republic for ten years by the time of the Clone Wars begun so he had personal reasons to get involved in the conflict.

Rey meanwhile grew up so isolated of Jakku that she had no idea forests existed and she didn’t lose anything and the FO attacked her on Jakku. In fact she wanted to return to Jakku after she had dumped BB-8 with the Resistance. Her primary motivation in TFA was to reunite with her family but the movie never establish that her family’s absence was connected to the galactic conflict in any way.

That connection isn’t established until TROS so what was her motivation until than? The Death of Han? A guy she had known for two hours? Finn? A guy she also had maybe only knew for about two hours total by the time of their hug in TLJ? Also she seemed to have completely forgotten about Finn by the time she want on a quest to redeem the guy that has far as she should have known by that point was still in a coma with his spine permanently damaged because of Kylo.

Rey’s motivation seems to either be finding her family or her dealing with her existential crisis neither had much of a connection with the galactic conflict until TROS

#Star Wars #Rey #Luke Skywalker #Anakin Skywalker #Anti Sequel Trilogy #Anti Lucasfilm #Finn #Poe Dameron #Rey Skywalker

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canniballistix · 4 years ago

Note

Parallels/metaphor/whatever of john winchester and god both as absentee fathers in hbo spn?

"I can't," Dean hissed.

His hand was shaking. Why was his hand shaking? This was something he'd done a thousand times. He'd lost track of the number of girls he'd kissed.

And yet… his hand shook. His hand shook as it cradled the one which cupped against his cheek, and it only served to make this whole thing all the more intimate.

The boy sighed, and Dean could feel the weight of his breath. "I thought you liked me."

"I do!" Dean said, even as the hand slipped out from under his. "I do, I do, swear to God I do."

"I-it's okay," the boy said. His hand dropped back onto his knee. "Look, I-- I get it, man. You're a guy's guy, and I'm… I dunno."

"Hey." Dean but his hand on the boy's shoulder and gripped it firmly. Though this steadied his hand, he could suddenly feel the way the boy was quaking. "It's nothin' to do with you, okay? You're… I mean, you're…"

The boy's piercing eyes were fixed on Dean's face as he struggled to find the right words. The longer they alluded Dean, the deeper the boy's heart sank.

At last, Dean sighed. "You're fuckin' gorgeous, okay?" he said at last. "Look at you. Jesus."

The hint of a smile tugged at the boy's lips.

"And you got good taste in music, and you're smart," Dean continued. His list ended there, however.

The boy cleared his throat. "But…?"

Dean closed his eyes. The way a business man closes his eyes just before he fired a good, hardworking family man. "But…" he managed to say, fingers wandering across the hem of the boy's shirt, "as much as I want to… I can't."

The boy sat there a moment longer.

It was a strange sort of quiet here, under the bleachers.

It should have been just as loud as the rest of the football field. Yet, somehow, the sounds of the crickets were so much softer. The wind seemed to miss them entirely. Here, on an autumn night, these two boys may as well have been in their own world.

The boy brushed away Dean's hand. Like it was a mosquito. Like it was nothing. "Fine. I get it," he said, getting to his feet. "Really creative way to get out of kissing me. Dramatic. Shakespearean, even."

Dean pounded the ground with one fist, then leapt up after the boy. "God, Jesse, wait--"

Jesse. That's it. His name was Jesse.

"I'm done."

"Please, if you just let me explain, I--"

"You're not explaining!" Jesse whirled to face Dean. "You're not saying anything!"

Dean took a deep breath in, and he was surprised to find that his lungs seemed to be quivering, as well.

Jesse stared at Dean. His fists were clenched at his sides. The floodlights over the football field cast an otherworldly light over his dark and messy hair, like light from heaven itself.

It did not reach Dean where he stood, still under the bleachers, his hand just barely reaching out into its warmth.

"Well?" Jesse prompted.

"My dad," Dean blurted out.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "You dad?"

Dean shook his head. "If he found out-- if he knew--"

"How could he?" Jesse asked.

Dean blinked. His heart was hammering against his ribcage.

"He's not watching, Dean," Jesse said, a hand raised to the sky.

Dean thought about that. He looked to the sky, as well, inexplicably feeling as if John Winchester might be peering down at him from the top of the bleachers.

And yet, despite that strange terror that John was watching, that he would somehow know, this was the first time Dean realized that his father wasn't there. And not just on the bleachers, but anywhere-- anywhere at all in Dean's life where it might have mattered.

Wherever a father should have been--loving or kind or cruel or spiteful--there was merely a hole. A blank space where John may have fit, and yet never did.

The fear was melting away.

Because there was nothing there.

Only stars.

Dean stumbled out into the light. He grabbed Jesse by the front of his hoodie, and kissed him like his life depended on it.

~~~~~

"I can't," Castiel said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You can't what? You can't taste?"

The angel returned a shrug. This was something new he'd picked up from Dean, though he didn't seem to have it down just yet-- Castiel only shrugged his shoulders when he didn't feel like answering, not because he didn't know the answer.

"You're not even gonna try?" Dean asked, pushing the plate of french fries a little closer. "C'mon, how bad could it be?"

"I told you, I can't," Castiel replied, pushing the plate back towards Dean.

"Now that's just stupid," Dean said. "You can't eat at all? For real? Your vessel can eat, can't he?"

"Of course he can," Castiel said, all but rolling his eyes. "I cannot."

Dean gave into temptation and growled lightly, pulling the plate towards himself and chomping down on another french fry.

The diner was quiet. When he was traveling with Castiel, Dean preferred to dine at night-- in fact, he preferred to work on as much of a night schedule as possible. Castiel was, to put it lightly, a fucking weirdo, and corralling him into acting even remotely human was a full-time job.

But anything goes at three in the morning in a twenty-four-hour truck stop.

All that could be heard was the clattering of dishes in the kitchen-- far fewer than those filling the sink twelve hours previously. Occasionally, something would come flying down the highway. Funny how much faster they seemed to rush by when there was so much stillness in-between.

Dean sipped his coffee.

Castiel sat very still, his hands folded delicately on table in front of him. He was staring out at that highway, and yet his eyes seemed hardly focused at all.

Dean leaned forward, trying in vain to see what it was that had Castiel so captured. As he did, he saw the man's reflection ripple along the surface of the glass, light against the darkness of the night.

In passing, Castiel's reflection looked just as one might expect. He was, after all, a dirty little man in a trenchcoat, and that was reflected quite plainly. The closer you looked, however--the longer and deeper you stared into the forms, into his eyes--the more you would see.

Some people saw God or Jesus or whatever. Some people would catch a rare glimpse of the true angel, its power lessened to that of a sharp headache by the reflection. Most people, though, saw people.

No one in particular. Just shadows of people half-remembered, ghosts of the past.

As Dean looked at Castiel's reflection, he saw something familiar in the sharpness of his eyes. In the dark mess of his hair. In the tautness of his lower lids as he gazed out into nothingness.

A boy. His name nearly forgotten--James or Jonathan or something--but his face as crisp and clear as ever.

His first kiss.

Not his first-first kiss. Not really. But his first kiss that had felt the way they say it should.

"Whaddya mean?" Dean asked.

Castiel turned to look at Dean. He didn't ask for clarification-- not out loud, at least.

Dean set his jaw. "What do you mean you can't?" he said. "You can't… like, physically?"

Castiel frowned. "No. I'm quite capable of eating."

He paused.

A pause so long he may have, in fact, finished talking.

Dean cleared his throat. "But…?"

"But," Castiel said, almost stalling, "it is frowned upon."

Dean scoffed. "Frowned upon?"

"Yes," Castiel continued. "The garrison is very strict about how… involved we should be in human culture. Eating, listening to music, dancing--"

"You're not allowed to dance?!" Dean smacked his forehead, biting back a laugh. "Goddamn. Remind me to show you Footloose sometime. You'd get a kick outta that one."

"Mm."

Castiel did not seem near as enchanted by this as Dean. It occurred to Dean that, if listening to music was forbidden, watching movies was likely on the shit list, too.

Dean cleared his throat again. "I mean. That sounds…" But he couldn't think of the words, exactly. "Wh-who told you not to do that junk?"

Castiel cocked his head. "God, of course."

"Right. God." Dean nodded slowly. "Sounds like a stand-up guy."

"I wouldn't know," Castiel said. "I've never met him."

Dean squinted. "You've never met God." Not a question, exactly, though he intended it to be. "Isn't he, like… your dad?"

Castiel sighed. "I suppose you could say that."

"But you've never met him?"

"I've never met him."

"But you're living your life by his rules?"

"Of course," Castiel said. "He… if he found out-- if he knew that I was--"

"How could he?"

Castiel blinked.

"Cas." Dean pushed the plate of french fries back across the table. "God's not watching."

Castiel thought about that. For some reason, he turned to look out the window once more, gazing balefully at a streetlight in the parking lot. As if God himself would appear under it.

And yet, despite that strange terror that God was looking down at him, that he would somehow know, this was the first time that Cas truly realized that his father wasn't there. Not just under the streetlight, but anywhere-- anywhere at all on Earth that may have mattered.

Wherever God should have been--loving or kind or cruel or spiteful--there was merely a hole. A blank space which may have been holy, and yet never was.

The fear was melting away.

Because there was nothing there.

Perhaps Cas himself was the holiest thing on Earth.

Cas reached out and lifted a french fry from the thick ceramic plate. He made eating diner food look like a celebration of the Eucharist.

#im genuinely diseased #hbospn #hbo spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #fic #spn fic #spn fanfic

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whencartoonsruletheworld · 4 years ago

Link

Disney Songs That Hit Different™ When You’re Autistic, a full Spotify Playlist

Open to updates should anyone notice a song I missed!

Tracklist and specific lyrics that fuck me up under the cut:

The World Above - The Little Mermaid Broadway Production

“It’s like my life was wrong And somehow, now, at last I’m in My own skin Up here in the world above!”

“The sun’s so bright here Upon my face! It feels so right here Warm as love... Life seems to be Almost calling to me...” - stimmy

Belle - Beauty and the Beast

“The bookshop. I just finished the most wonderful story. About a beanstalk and an ogre and a—” - y’all ever been interrupted on an infodump and then realize nobody cared? yeah that feeling

“Look there she goes, that girl is strange, no question Dazed and distracted, can't you tell? Never part of any crowd Cause her head's up on some cloud No denying she’s a funny girl, that Belle...”

“[That one? But you've read it twice!] It's my favorite. Far-off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise...” - SPECIAL INTEREST

“Look there she goes, that girl is so peculiar I wonder if she's feeling well With a dreamy, far-off look And her nose stuck in a book What a puzzle to the rest of us is Belle...”

“Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because you'll see Here's where she meets Prince Charming But she won't discover that it's him till chapter three...” - IF NOBODY LISTENS TO MY INFODUMP I SHALL INFODUMP TO SHEEP

“But behind that fair façade I'm afraid she's rather odd Very diff'rent from the rest of us She's nothing like the rest of us...”

More - deleted song from Moana

honestly the entire song is a bit “want to break off and learn about special interest / be in my own world / be myself” mood

“The other kids just dance and play How can you play? There's so much out there to explore...”

“She stares at the sky, she stumbles down the beaches She mumbles all the names that her Gramma Tala teaches With one foot here and another in a distant past She’s growing up too fast...”

Part of Your World - The Little Mermaid

not only a BIG SPECIAL INTEREST MOOD... big “i don’t belong here” mood...

“Look at this trove, treasures untold How many wonders can one cavern hold? Looking around here, you'd think Sure, she's got everything” “I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty I've got whooz-its and whats-its galore You want thing-a-mabobs? I've got twenty But who cares? No big deal. I want more!”

“Betcha on land, they understand Bet they don't reprimand their daughters Bright young women, sick of swimmin', Ready to stand...”

“When's it my turn? Wouldn't I love, Love to explore that shore up above?”

More Than Just the Spare - deleted song from Frozen

“I'm not part of the town, not born to be queen Just somebody hopelessly in-between She's the scholar, athlete, poet I'm the screw up, don't I know it...”

“I may lack style and I may lack grace And once in a while I fall on my face But this little button deserves a place in the sky This button wants to fly- Wait, buttons can't fly, it doesn't make any sense!”

“And maybe I can't be the perfect one And maybe I err on the side of fun...”

“Someday I'll find my thing, a thing that's all my own That thing that makes me part of something, not just all alone If only all this feeling I have in my heart, could mean something to someone, how I'd love to play that part!”

“Like a button, like a horseshoe Like a girl who's bad at metaphors!”

Proud of Your Boy - Aladdin Broadway Production

“So say I'm slow for my age A late bloomer, Okay, I agree...”

“But I'll get over these lousin' up Messin' up, screwin' up times You'll see, Ma, now comes the better part Someone's gonna make good, cross his stupid heart Make good and finally make you proud of your boy...”

“Say I'm a goldbrick, a good-off, no good But that couldn't be all that I am...”

“Though I can't make myself taller Or smarter or handsome or wise I'll do my best, what else can I do? Since I wasn't born perfect like Dad or you Mom, I will try to try hard to make you Proud of your boy...”

Let Me Make You Proud - Tangled: The Series

“Maybe I make things a mess And maybe you're right to have doubts in me Maybe, but nevertheless If you for once could just trust me...”

“And when I return And I'm more than you dreamt I'd be Maybe then you will realize That you never actually knew me at all...”

“Cause I long for that look of surprise When you see your son rising at last...”

Almost There - The Princess and the Frog

“Ain't got time for messin' around And it's not my style...”

“But I know exactly where I'm going Getting closer and closer every day...”

“People down here think I'm crazy But I don't care Trials and tribulations, I've had my share...”

Home - deleted song from Frozen 2

BIG routine song

“Wandering through the town with everyone doing all of their stuff Somewhere in my heart I feel I've not yet done enough For these people I know, this place that I love so...”

“I know how fragile things can be. If I lost them, I'd lose me They're my ocean, they're my shore. I wanna give them more...”

In a World of My Own / Very Good Advice - mashup cover of Alice in Wonderland

“They would sit and talk to me for hours When I'm lonely in a world of my own...”

“I could listen to a babbling brook And hear a song that I could understand I keep wishing it could be that way Because my world would be a wonderland...”

“I give myself very good advice But I very seldom follow it That explains the trouble that I'm always in...”

“Be patient is very good advice But the waiting makes me curious And I'd love the change Should something strange begin...”

“Will I ever learn to do the things I should?”

Reflection - Mulan

“Now I see that if I were truly to be myself I would break my family's heart...”

“Somehow I cannot hide Who I am, though I've tried...”

“How I pray that a time will come I can free myself from their expectations On that day, I'll discover someway to be myself And to make my family proud...”

“They want a docile lamb, no-one knows who I am Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide? Must I pretend that I'm someone else for all time?”

If I Wasn’t So Small - Piglet’s Big Movie

“It's not as if I want to rule the world Or even the forest, or even one tree I suppose I could be happy, if I could be helpful With just a little bit of noticing me...”

“I'd be needed and useful More each passing day...”

Jack’s Lament - The Nightmare Before Christmas

“Oh somewhere deep inside of these bones An emptiness began to grow There's something out there far from my home A longing that I've never known...”

Everything I Ever Thought I Knew - Tangled: The Series

“I thought no one could love me And how could I have known? I was wrong, oh so wrong...” “Then I thought I found it, a dream that I could share I thought I was so lucky, it almost wasn't fair I thought I knew my purpose, I thought that I knew where I belong But I was wrong...”

“Now that it's all crumbling, help me understand If none of it was really me then who am I supposed to be?”

“I guess my life meant nothing I guess it was a sham I guess I'm someone else now I wonder who I am...”

I’ll Try - Return to Neverland

“I am not a child now I can take care of myself I mustn't let them down now Mustn't let them see me cry...”

“My whole world is changing I don't know where to turn I can't leave you waiting But I can't stay and watch the city burn...”

Waiting in the Wings (Reprise) - Tangled: The Series

“I craved so much, and yet I kept on waiting One glance, one touch, and I just kept on waiting...”

Waiting in the Wings - Tangled: The Series

“Guess we all are born with parts to play Some of us are stars, and some are just in the way I know I was meant for glory But that's never what my story brings And yet I keep on waiting...”

“When you have the passion and the drive You expect your moment centre stage to arrive I show up with heart ablazing Ready to achieve amazing things But I'm left waiting in the wings...”

“It's always someone else who sings While I'm left waiting in the wings...”

“Always overlooked unfairly, while pretending that it barely stings But it stings, yes, it stings...”

I’m Still Here (Jim Theme) - Treasure Planet

“I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard Or a moment that's held in your arms...”

“And how can you learn what's never shown Yeah, you stand here on your own They don't know me, cause I'm not here...”

“And I want to tell you who I am Can you help me be a man? They can't break me As long as I know who I am...”

“They can't tell me who to be Cause I'm not what they see Yeah, the world is still sleeping While I keep on dreaming for me And their words are just whispers and lies That I'll never believe...”

“And I want a moment to be real Want to touch things I don't feel Wanna hold on, and feel I belong And how can you say I'll never change They're the ones that stay the same I'm the one now Cause I'm still here!”

God Help the Outcasts - The Hunchback of Notre Dame

“Yes, I know I'm just an outcast I shouldn't speak to You Still, I see Your face and wonder Were You once an outcast, too?”

“God help the outcasts, hungry from birth Show them the mercy they don't find on earth God help my people - we look to You, still God help the outcasts or nobody will...”

“Please help my people, the poor and downtrod I thought we all were the children of God?”

So Close - Enchanted

honestly the entirety of enchanted is an autism mood but,

“So close to reaching That famous happy end Almost believing This one's not pretend...”

Into the Unknown - cover of Frozen 2

“There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day And ignore your whisper which I wish would go away...”

“I’ve had my adventure, I don’t need something new...”

“Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me? Who knows deep down I'm not where I am really meant to be?“

“Are you out there? [Do you know me?] Can you feel me? Can you show me?”

Someone’s Waiting For You - The Rescuers

“Don't cry, little one There'll be a smile where a frown use to be You'll be part of the love that you see...”

Sally’s Song - The Nightmare Before Christmas

“I sense there's something in the wind That feels like tragedy's at hand And though I'd like to stand by him Can't shake this feeling that I have...”

“Although I'd like to join the crowd In their enthusiastic cloud Try as I may, it doesn't last...”

Someday - The Hunchback of Notre Dame Off-Broadway Production

“Someday, when we are wiser When the world's older, when we have learned I pray someday we may yet live To live and let live...”

“Someday, these dreams will all be real Til then we'll wish upon the moon Change will come, one day Someday soon...”

Where Do I Go From Here - Pocahontas II: Journey to a New World

“They do what they must for now And trust in their plan If I trust in mine, somehow I might find who I am...”

“The path ahead's so hard to see It winds and bends but where it ends Depends on only me In my heart I don't feel part of so much I've known Now it seems it's time to start A new life on my own...”

Wherever You Are - Pooh’s Grand Adventure: The Search for Christopher Robin

“I'm out here in the dark, all alone and wide awake Come and find me I'm empty and I'm cold, and my heart's about to break Come and find me...”

“I need you to come here and find me Cause without you, I'm totally lost I've hung a wish on every star It hasn't done much good so far...”

“I used to believe in forever, But forever’s too good to be true...”

Belle (Reprise) - Beauty and the Beast

“And for once it might be grand To have someone understand I want so much more than they've got planned...”

Endless Night - The Lion King Broadway Production

“Home is an empty dream Lost to the night Father, I feel so alone...”

“I know that the night must end I know that the sun will rise...”

Set Yourself Free - Tangled: The Series

“Locked inside a tower, kept behind a wall Sheltered from a world you’ve barely known That’s the way they treat you...”

“There's much more inside of you than anyone can see And now the choice is yours, life waits beyond the doors So step on through, the time has come And only you can set yourself free!”

“So use the gifts you're given Make the world your own Look inside your heart and find the key...”

“Bound up by your worries Trapped by your mistakes Forced to play a role you never chose...”

“No more letting someone else define you to a T You know that you are strong You've known it all along...”

Let it Go - Frozen Broadway Production

“The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I've tried Don't let them in, don't let them see Be the good girl you always have to be Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know Well, now they know!”

“I don't care what they're going to say Let the storm rage on The cold never bothered me anyway...”

“It’s time to see what I can do To test the limits and break through No right, no wrong, no rules for me I’m free!”

“Let it go, let it go And I’ll rise like the break of dawn! Let it go, let it go That perfect girl is gone!”

How Far I’ll Go (Reprise) - Moana

“All that time wondering where I need to be is behind me I'm on my own to worlds unknown...”

Colors of the Wind - Pocahontas

“You think the only people who are people Are the people who look and think like you But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew...”

Strangers Like Me - Tarzan

when u meet another autistic person....

“Whatever you do, I'll do it, too Show me everything and tell me how It all means something And yet nothing to me...”

“I can see there's so much to learn It's all so close and yet so far I see myself as people see me Oh, I just know there's something bigger out there...”

Beyond My Wildest Dreams - The Little Mermaid Broadway Production

“Look over there! Oh my god! How very odd! And what might they be? Something splendid, maybe! Look over here! Could you bust? Isn't it just bedazzling, dazing, utterly amazing! Gazing 'round, it's like, to die! Just seeing it feels so good, I'd scream if I only could!”

“Just keeps on gawking- Weird how she's not talking!”

“I'd hoped and wished My life would feel enchanted! Wished and prayed The fates would hear my plea...”

Watch What Happens - Newsies Broadway Production

“’Write what you know’ So they say, all I know is I don't know what to write Or the right way to write it...”

“It could practically write itself And let's pray it does, cause as I may have mentioned I have no clue what I'm doing!”

“Speak up, take a stand, and there's someone to write about it That's how things get better...”

[also. the squeal.]

“Like someone said, "Power tends to corrupt" And absolute power, wait, wait, corrupts? Absolutely, that is genius! But give me some time, I'll be twice as good as that six months from never...”

“Just look around at the world we're inheriting And think of the one we'll create...”

“Give those kids and me the brand new century and watch what happens It's David and Goliath, do or die The fight is on and I can't watch what happens But all I know is nothing happens if you just give in It can't be any worse than how it's been And it just so happens that we just might win So whatever happens, let's begin!”

Son of Man - Tarzan

“Oh, the power to be strong and the wisdom to be wise All these things will come to you in time On this journey that you're making, there'll be answers that you'll seek And it's you who'll climb the mountain It's you who'll reach the peak...”

“Though there's no one there to guide you, no one to take your hand But with faith and understanding You will journey from boy to man...”

“In learning you will teach and in teaching you will learn You'll find your place beside the ones you love Oh, and all the things you dreamed of, the visions that you saw Well, the time is drawing near now It's yours to claim it all!”

Strange Sight - Tinkerbell and the Legend of the Neverbeast

“You stand in the light You're wrong, but you're right And my heart's beating wildly Strange how I'm scared but delighted Afraid, but excited too!”

“Do you long to be left all alone? Set apart with a heart made of stone? Let me help, let's begin Let me learn, won't you let me in? All the light, let it show...”

“You are a strange sight, some new kind of wonder With good hidden under, I'm sure that it's true Strange how your dark doesn't faze me...”

Wind in My Hair - Tangled: The Series

“What if the doors began to open? What if the knots became untied? What if one day, nothing stood in my way And the world was mine?”

“Plenty of mysteries to unravel Tons of mistakes to not regret So much to see, and to do and to be A whole life to spend And it doesn't end...”

For a Moment - The Little Mermaid II: Return to the Sea

“This way is left, but which way is right? Well, now I'll be circling in circles all night...” - direction problems amirite

“This is more than my thoughts ever thought it could be For a moment, just a moment, lucky me...”

“For a moment, I can feel, All the dreams I've been dreaming are real, Wish my mother could hear it, the sea is my song For a moment, just a moment I belong...”

Speechless - Aladdin 2019 Remake

i would like to send this song to autism $peaks (hate group) underlined in red and with a photo attached of me with a middle finger up

“Here comes a wave meant to wash me away A tide that is taking me under Swallowing sand, left with nothing to say. My voice drowned out in the thunder...”

“Written in stone, every rule, every word Centuries old and unbending ‘Stay in your place, better seen and not heard.’ Well, now that story is ending!”

“Let the storm in! I cannot be broken! No, I won't live unspoken! Cause I know that I won't go speechless!”

“Try to lock me in this cage! I won't just lay me down and die! I will take these broken wings And watch me burn across the sky!”

“I won't be silenced! Though you wanna see me tremble when you try it, All I know is I won't go speechless, speechless! Cause I'll breathe when they try to suffocate me! Don't you underestimate me! Cause I know that I won't go speechless!”

Show Yourself - Frozen 2

the siren call... stimmy

“Something is familiar, like a dream I can reach but not quite hold I can sense you there, like a friend I've always known I'm arriving, it feels like I am home...”

“I have always been a fortress Cold secrets deep inside...”

“Are you the one I've been looking for all of my life? Show yourself! I'm ready to learn...”

“I've never felt so certain! All my life, I've been torn But I'm here for a reason- could it be the reason I was born? I have always been so different, normal rules did not apply Is this the day? Are you the way I finally find out why?”

“I am found!”

“You are the one you've been waiting for All of your life...”

Here I Am - Camp Rock

“They tell you a good girl is quiet and that you should never ask why Cause it only makes it harder to fit in And you should be happy, excited, even if you're just invited Cause the winners need someone to clap for them...”

“It's so hard just waiting in a line that never moves It's time you started making your own rules...”

“If how you’re living isn't working there's one thing that'll help You got to finally just stop searching and find yourself...”

“The world better make some room Yea move over, over Cause you’re coming through!”

“You gotta scream until there's nothing left With your last breath Say here I am! Here I am! Make em listen Cause there is no way you'll be ignored Not anymore...”

Us Against the Universe - Phineas and Ferb: The Movie - Candace Against the Universe

“I used to feel alone, just me against the raging tide, But I guess I should've known that you were always on my side. Now I don't have to be an island, cause you've been there all the while, and Now I realize my fears weren't justified!”

“Cause as long as we're together, We can stand and face whatever Kind of trouble this world tries to put us in. If you're out there on your own, You just might take it on the chin Cause if it's us against the universe, we win!”

#disney #autism #autistic #actually autistic #disney songs #mine

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clonewarsarchives · 3 years ago

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SCORE DE FORCE (#111, SEPT 2009)

As composer of the soundtracks for the Star Wars: The Clone Wars movie and TV series, Kevin Kiner has become the most prolific musical artist in the Star Wars universe since the great John Williams. Words: Scott Chernoff

When Kevin Kiner created the score to the Star Wars: The Clone Wars theatrical feature, he became the first person to compose the soundtrack of a Star Wars movie besides his idol, John Williams.

However, this wasn’t the first time Kinder had built upon the work of the legendary composer. Twenty years earlier, one of his first composing jobs was on the TV series Superboy, for which he adapted the classic Superman movie theme, originally composed by Williams.

“That was ‘my first foray into really emulating his style,” Kinder told Star Wars Insider about the TV series that pre-dated Smallville as the first live-action glimpse into the Man of Steel's early years. “He did such a fantastic job on Superman: The Movie, and I wanted to carry that forward in the TV series. I did 100 episodes of that show, and it really got me into orchestral scoring.”

Two decades later, Kiner is back wielding the baton, composing and conducting the music for The Clone Wars, another TV series whose music springs from the iconic work of John Williams.

“He has always been my favorite composer, and he continues to be,” Kiner says. “I think it’s for the same reasons that make him so special to George Lucas, in that he has a way of bringing a very legitimate classical sensibility to a film score. I'm emulating John, but I don’t want to be a clone of him—pun intended. I have my own voice.”

Indeed, the music of The Clone Wars uses John Williams’ memorable musical cues as a springboard to an ever-expanding universe of soundscapes and melodies.

“George was very clear on every planet having its own ethnic identity,” Kiner says, explaining that each environment seen on The Clone Wars has a distinct musical flavor. “On Ryloth, the clone troopers stumble across a little girl, and she’s quite frightened and hides in a little cave. There's a very tender moment where they make friends with her, and I used this West African flute as the main melody instrument. It's extremely expressive, and it has a very earthy kind of sound to it. We still have the orchestra in the background, but it’s very simple—the strings are supporting the melody of the flute. Whenever we go to Ryloth, we'll hear that style.”

Kiner says the different cultural influences have taken The Clone Wars to new musical frontiers. “The balancing act is bringing out the magic but not being dopey. In this day and age, we've all heard ‘space music,’ so you don’t want it to be a cliché. That’s where that ethnic element is really cool, because it opens up a lot of worlds where you can have something that’s magical and exotic sounding, hopefully bringing goose bumps and a feeling of mystery and wonder—but it’s earthy and cool at the same time. It’s not your typical space music.”

Kiner is something of an expert on space music. His repertoire is heavy on sci-fi, having composed music for such TV series as Stargate SG-1, Invisible Man, Super Force, The Visitor, the campy sitcom Out of this World, and even the most recent Star Trek TV series, Enterprise. That makes Kiner one of the few artists to traverse the galaxies of both “Stars”: Trek and Wars. “I guess maybe a part of me should be fighting with the other part of me,” he jokes.

Those credits tell only part of the story, as Kiner’s background is remarkably diverse. He started out “as a rock ‘n’ roll guy,” he confesses, playing weddings in his youth with a band before moving on to the guitar chair in the UCLA jazz band during college, and then touring the world as an arranger for live acts like The Supremes.

These days, Kiner is perhaps best known for his collaboration with David Arnold on the music for the long-running—and very Earth-bound—hit TV series CSI: Miami. “When I'm writing [for] CSI,” Kiner says, “it's just so different. It's more sound design and groove-oriented. It keeps me young and keeps my writing fresh, too.”

That freshness has informed Kiner’s work on The Clone Wars. “In addition to the ethnic element, George wanted some of what I was doing in CSI: Miami. You can find some of those elements, but not overbearingly. It's a modern film score, but there’s a classical influence. Besides, it’s animation, and that’s always more difficult to score than live action. You need to be a little busier, and you have to move with the characters and tell the story a little more.”

Kiner describes the individual episodes of The Clone Wars as “little mini-movies. There's nothing like our show on television. Whenever I finish an episode, I just slump down in the couch in exhaustion like I just finished a feature. It’s not like scoring a television show, because every episode is unique unto itself.”

Kiner says each character provides inspiration for different musical paths. “When I first saw Luminara, I was really stoked,” he says. “Her theme is a melody that's one of my favorites, and anytime Plo Koon is in an episode, it’s fun. We always have Ahsoka Tano, and her theme is probably my favorite I've written for the show.”

Of course, Kiner is used to getting fired up by Star Wars. He was an instant fan after seeing the first movie in 1977, and since then, he says, “I went to every single midnight screening from Episode V on. In fact, I took my kids to the prequels’ midnight screenings, although I didn’t dress up the way [The Clone Wars supervising director] Dave Filoni did as Plo Koon. We’re all huge fans. I just got off the phone with Nick Anastassiou, who is an associate editor on the show, and we spent half an hour just talking about how much we love the show and how cool George Lucas is—seriously!”

So what makes Lucas so cool? “He loves to throw things out there that you wouldn't normally think of,” Kiner says. “Sometimes they work really well and they’re amazing. Other times they don't, but he’s not afraid to experiment—in fact, quite the opposite. He’s not afraid to bounce wild ideas, but he’s also smart enough to pull them back when they're not working. There's real genius in that, and that’s why everything’s so good.”

Kiner was impressed with how hands-on Lucas has been. “Initially, there was a tremendous amount of contact,” he says. “George would tell me what he was looking for, either emotionally or texturally. He even brought in a couple of tunes he was listening to and said, ‘Can we incorporate this kind of a sound?’ What was liberating was my first meeting with George after I had gotten the gig, and him telling me that he really wanted this show to have its own musical style. I didn't want to be constrained to just what the live-action features did. The way he’s challenged me is fantastic, and that’s my favorite part. That's the dream come true.”

#Kevin Kiner #insider #i111 #crew #Ryloth #Season 1 #120 #music #the clone wars #they'e been using the same picture of him for 12 years XD

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zeldasayer · 4 years ago

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I transcribed and translated Pedro’s interview from GQ Germany for all of us. I tried translating as good as possible but bear with me, English is not my mother tongue. By @sixties-loser

Pedro Pascal, the star from “Game of Thrones”, “Wonder Woman” and “The Mandalorian” talks about becoming an adult, film, fashion, corona – and a painful surgery in the exclusive GQ interview.

It seems almost eerie how empty the streets of LA are in the sunshine. Meanwhile a new normality seems to be coming to Europe, most people in L.A. are still cutting their own hair. Many have not seen their friends for half a year. The pandemic is out of control. The reaction towards it too. Inviting someone into their garden for a “distance drink” can cause the same distress as suggesting to switch spouses.

Therefore, it was particularly surprising that Pedro Pascal immediately accepted. He accepted the drink, not to switch spouses. He is one of the rising stars and newcomers this year – if it wasn’t for corona sending the whole film industry into a forced vacation, there would most likely not have been time for said drink. After having his skull crushed in “Game of Thrones” followed the lead role as a DEA agent hunting Pablo Escobar in “Narcos” in 2015 and now he is stepping towards big Hollywood films. From the 1st of October onwards the Chilean-born actor will be starring in the blockbuster “Wonder Woman 1984”. Moreover, the second season of the “Star Wars”-series “The Mandalorian” on Disney+ starring him as the lead is going to air in October this year – but he will be underneath a helmet. Well, we all are under a helmet in 2020 in one way or another. We want to meet the man who a few years ago still worked as a waiter in New York, whose parents were political refugees who found asylum in Denmark and settled in Texas and whose son one day signed up for a theatre group in High School.

Then, the cancellation! While we were in the middle of fixing up the house and the garden for the drink with Pedro and organizing the fashion shoot, which was not easy considering the safety measures in L.A., his management called with an unfortunate message: Pedro – no, not sick with corona – had to get emergency surgery because of a damaged tooth and was lying in bed with a swollen face that was hindering him from speaking and taking pictures. The sun is shining onto empty streets. And our empty garden.

A few days later he nonetheless arrived at our front door without a swollen face but still with threads in his mouth. He was not chauffeured by a limo-service but he came with his own car – he even picked up his make-up artist. He is helping her carrying all of her utensils into the house and declares: “I’ve got time today!”. What a celebrity! It seemed like we did not want to ask him how he made it to the A-List of Hollywood but he wanted to ask us how we made it to the A-list. Pedro Pascal! Yes, what kind of a celebrity?

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for messing with your plans. The surgery was an emergency.

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling wasn’t the product of a secret visit to the plastic-surgeon. Apparently, they are drowning in work because of the quarantine in Hollywood.

PP: I have to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I was rushing to the hospital with a fractured tooth and the worst pain in my entire life – a hospital in which treats people with severe cases of corona. I was unable to reach any dentist! Right in front of the parking lot a specialist called me back. The pain was hell despite the ten injections I got. The doctor said I was not an exception because a lot of people are grinding their teeth because of all the stress.

GQ: What are you most afraid of at the moment?

PP: How the government is handling the pandemic is worrying me more than the virus itself. This shortage of intelligent management of the crisis is a moral shame. The leadership crisis in this country is turning us all into orphans – destitute and abandoned.

GQ: How did you spend your time over the last few months?

PP: I spent it with frozen pizza and sweatpants in Venice Beach. I live in a rear house that’s in a family’s garden. Actually, there are a lot of good takeout places nearby but for some reason I just love pepperoni pizza from the supermarket.

GQ: That does not really sound like movie star-lifestyle. What does it feel like being suddenly stopped from top speed to zero?

PP: Regarding what is going on around the world one should hold back one’s own mental turmoil. I would be lying if I was saying that I am not disappointed. The whole team put a lot of heart and work into the production of “Wonder Woman 1984”. We had a lot of fun on set. I wished to travel around the world and introduce the film with the same lively energy.

GQ: You come from a politically engaged, socialist family that fled from the Pinochet-regime in Chile. What do you remember from that time?

PP: My sister and I were born in Chile but I was only nine months old when we first found asylum in Denmark. From there we quickly came to San Antonio in Texas where my dad started working as a doctor at the university clinic.

GQ: Texas is not known as a socialist utopia. How did you assimilate?

PP: San Antonio is not a Cowboy-town but very diverse with big Asian, black and Latino communities. I remember it as a romantic place, culturally open. The culture shock only came as we later moved to range county in California. There the atmosphere was suddenly white, preppy and conservative.

GQ: How were you received in California?

PP: I’m still ashamed of the fact that I did not correct my classmates when they kept on calling me Peter. I am Pedro. Even if I didn’t grow up in Chile the country and the language are still a part of me. I was very unhappy in that environment. However, I was fortunately able to go to another school close to Long Beach where I felt more comfortable. Through the theater group at that school I found my way.

GQ: Were you able to visit Chile as a child?

PP: Yes, when my parents made it to the list of expatriates that were able to travel to Chile without consequences. First, there was a big family reunion and then my sister and I stayed there for a few months with relatives while my parents went back to Texas. They likely needed a break from us. They got us when they were very young, had a buzzing social life and my mother was obtaining a PhD in psychology.

GQ: Was your mother a typical young psychologist who wanted to apply her theoretical knowledge at home?

PP: You mean, whether I was her guinea pig? For sure! I remember strange tests and sittings that were disguised as games where someone was watching me react to different toys. I cannot have been older than six but I was already aware of the dynamic. My favourite thing was being questioned about my dreams. That was a wonderful opportunity to come up with fantastic stories.

GQ: Was that your first performance?

PP: Of course! My mother worried about my strong imagination because I was living in my own fantasy world rather than reality. I hated going to school. I was always categorized as the troublemaker. At one point, the topics at school became more interesting and my grades also went up. There are so many kids that are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be abhorrent. Why is it so accepted to be bored in class when there are so many stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

GQ: Considering al that has happened this summer around the world: Do you believe that we can seriously demand social change now?

PP: I Hope so. After lockdown, the first time I went out was to protest for “Black Lives Matter” on the streets. The energy was peaceful and hopeful until the police provoked severe conflicts. Nevertheless, we cannot run from problems like we used to this time and we cannot distract ourselves from them either. It seems like the pressure of the pandemic led to a new clarity: We cannot go on this way.

GQ: The “Wonder Woman 1984” Trailer revives the optimism of the 1980’s. From today’s point of view, it seems almost nostalgic.

PP: That’s right. You really are happy for two hours. The director Patty Jenkins created a film full of positive messages. We shot in Washington D.C., then in London and Spain – this sounds like I am talking of a past time.

GQ: Do you miss traveling?

PP: I’m just now realizing the privilege of just packing up one’s stuff and being able to fly anywhere. An American passport used to guarantee unlimited travel. And that’s why it the small radius of our lives is actually unimaginable. Over the last years I often retreated for a break after shootings because I was constantly on the move and overstimulated. My friends were already complaining I had become too comfortable. We all took social contact for granted and are only realizing now how dependent we actually are on human contact. Over the last weeks I often longingly thought about all the parties and dinner invitations I declined.

GQ: In L.A. people spend more time at home or nature than in other metropolises that are more geared towards public life. Could this city become your second home after New York?

PP: My Real Home are my friends. I have been a nomad since I was little and I do not have a place where I have put down roots. Up until not long ago my physical home was a place in between departure and arrival. Therefore, it was something I did not want to complicate through the accumulation of stuff. On the contrary: Without having read Marie Kondo’s book I have freed myself from excess baggage over the last few years and I lived relatively minimally.

GQ: Is there nothing you collect or something you just can’t throw away?

PP: Books! I even still have the literature I read when I was a teenager and when I was in college. Recently, I stumbled upon a box full of old theatre manuscripts and materials from my time at the New York University. I also cannot part from art easily, just like I cannot part from lamps or old photos. On the other hand, I can easily get rid of furniture and clothes.

GQ: Do you remember roles that were really only completely defined through the costume?

PP: Yes, I am particularly thinking about “Game of Thrones”. At that time I understood for the first time what it meant to be supported by a look. This is thanks to the costume designer Michele Clapton. She created very feminine robes and brocade coats for my character that nevertheless looked masculine when worn and I felt very sexy in them. Of course, Lindy Hemmings power-suits and Jan Swells bleached hairstyle for the tycoon-villain in “Wonder Woman 1984” were very important as well. At first I did not really see myself in the role because the cuts and colors of the 80s do not really fit my body. I’m more the 70s type.

GQ: Do you incorporate those inspirations into your personal wardrobe?

PP: In my free time I choose comfort over a cool look these days. Sometimes I miss the times when I expressed myself through a certain style. It is hard to imagine that I went to Raves as a teenage in the 90s; I was a real club kid with ridiculous outfits: overalls, balloon pants, football shirts and a top hat, like in Dr.Seuss’s “Cat in a Hat”. Later in New York I was hanging out with a group of people that felt it was very important to have a certain style. The fact that I am basically only wearing sweatpants everyday is actually tragic.

GQ: whoever plays roles in comic book adaptations becomes a bodybuilder and eats ten chicken breasts a day. You don’t?

PP:My body would not agree with that. It is hard enough to stay in shape normally. When you’re in your mid-forties you have to live with a lot more discipline. Up until before my tooth-incident I worked out with a trainer in my garden multiple times a week to keep the quarantine body in check.

GQ: Apart from the personal trainer, are you in a steady relationship?

PP: I am not ready for that yet. Maybe at some point I will be but until then I’ll let it be. I can’t even offer you absurd corona dating stories.

GQ: What would annoy you the most if you were your own roommate?

PP: I can be quite controlling. I have to conjure all my humanity to prevent myself from going through my entire film collection. When I don’t want something I cannot keep it to myself or be passive-aggressive, I always have to take it to the frontlines. Other than that, I tend to have tunnel view: when I am not feeling well I cannot imagine to ever feel better again. I have trouble relativizing my emotions or to wave off problems. Method-acting would really not be for me. This is why I try to only work on projects that feel good, where there is mutual support and encouragement.

GQ: When we were trying on the clothes earlier you spoke of a lack of self-confidence. How does that get along with a career like yours?

PP: Isn’t it interesting how these characteristics and circumstamces relate? Self-worth comes from inside but it is also influenced by what society values because we often internalise the public gaze. I have lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and made a living by working as a waiter until my mid-thirties because the theatre and film jobs I got did not pay the bills. There were so many times I was almost there. The disappointment of having missed the perfect role or opportunity by a hair’s width can be crushing. When should you give up and what is plan B? That is a question that is not only on many actors‘s minds but also on many others minds who struggle for a living – no matter how much potential they have or how close they seem to be to the top. We are seeing now how our narrow definition of success destroys society. At the same time, we are realizing that where we come from and the color of our skin still decide whether we can exist with dignity.

GQ: What are the positive aspects of a relatively late success as leading-man?

PP: I feel like I can decide over my own life without the pressure of having to accept projects or to have to present a certain identity on social media. This is for sure also because I am a man. Regardless of age, Women have to try harder to stand out.

GQ: Life always consists of risk management – now more than usual. For what would you risk losing something?

PP: Generally, when you never risk something you might never get ahead. That is for friendship, love, work and creativity. I have to be ready to take risks for the things that really matter to you.

#pedro pascal #THANK YOU MY LOVE!#submission

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kim-lexie · 4 years ago

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2021 april rewind.

music.

‘all yours’ ep by astro. my boys did not hold back. this album has superior b-sides. the vibe of this one is stellar and i am continually blown away by their vocals. some of my fave tracks include ‘dear my universe’, ‘all good’, and ‘all stars.

‘spider’ by hoshi of SVT. woah. this track appeared out of nowhere. it is up there with kai’s ‘mmmh’, they eat together at lunch kind of thing. the choreo is so unique and never been done before. loved it.

kimsejeong. ‘whale’ and ‘warning’ have been on repeat. i love her vocals and the fresh vibe that these songs possess.

‘drunk dazed’ by enhypen. this comeback was something else. i loved this track. have not really been invested in enhypen, like i listened to their title track ‘given-taken’, but was not awaiting this comeback. but my goodness, this track made me want to listen and watch all their choreos. this was a great comeback, and i loved this track and choreography.

‘after school’ by weeekly. it’s a bop simple fact.

‘in the morning’ by itzy. well this originally was not a fave, but as with most jyp girl group tracks after a listen or two it becomes absolutely addictive, and that is the same with ‘in the morning’. they did good, and it was an unexpected feeling for itzy, because it is typically a fresh pop beat, but this one was on the opposite spectrum. i am excited to see where this will take itzy in the future.

drama & movies *spoiler alert*

hi, me! this was an incredible gem. i would definitely give it a watch. it was sweet, quirky, humorous, and heartfelt. we follow bahn ha-ni, a woman moving through the motions of life in an unstable job. she stumbles upon her past younger self. the younger bahn ha-ni challenges her, offering a fresh perspective that she hasn’t seen in a long time. with her new outlook, we follow ha-ni as she pursues new goals and guides her younger self back to the past. of course we meet a young man, han yoon-hyun, who appears to not have any ambitions, but is just navigating life in his own way. of course in the traditional drama way, turns out they had an encounter as younger children. we also come to find that ha-ni blames herself for her father’s passing, because he saved her and pushed her out of the way of an oncoming car. the younger ban ha-ni was sent by him, and one of the quotes i loved was this:

my life has been completely ruined, and dad wanted to remind of how i used to be. he wanted to tell me that through you. he wanted to show how radiant…we were.

we love it and we stan. overall loved this one and would rate it a 9 out of 10.

navillera. this was another incredible drama. the rollercoaster of emotions. the tears shed, it was incredible piece of art. it’s so bittersweet to say goodbye to this cast of characters. i would 10 out of 10 recommend. deok-chool is a 70-something year old man who is recently retired, and he had previously been unable to pursue his dream of ballet. now he decided to pursue that dream and making it a reality. he meets chae-rok. this young man’s heart for ballet has begun to fade and then he is met with the task of teaching this gentleman ballet. through this odd turn of events, a beautiful friendship starts to blossom. we also come to find that the reason deok-chool is adamant about pursuing dance is because it helps his memories stay fresh, because we come to find that he has alzheimers, which literally hit me like a truck because i did not see that coming. song kang’s performance of this character was stunning. from the ballet to the heart of the character, he embodied him. and the gentle, park in-hwan, did a fantastic job. portrayed a strong man finally finding piece with a dream he struggled for years to pursue. so incredibly proud of him finding himself and then being able to find a new friendship in the midst of his grief. favorite moments: the scene when chae-rok desperately danced to have deok-chool’s memories return to him because he wrote how seeking chae-rok dance brought his memories back. tears were truly shed. and then when deok-chool said, ‘did you soar?’ when he saw chae-rok for the first time at the train track, after he had been away on the global stage.

how to be thirty. this was an interesting one and the plot didn’t go where i thought it would go. like the main dude, seung-yoo lied like a lot, and ji-won lost her job because he was trash. and the two girls he messed with were angry at each other, where in reality shouldn’t they have been angry with him for keeping this secret from them? like he started seeing ji-won while he was technically in a relationship with hye-ryung who he shouldn’t have been in a relationship with in the first place. hye-ryung was holding on to him and she was kinda crazy, but he should have been honest up front with what was happening. and he broke up with her before it spiraled. i really hope our ji-won is happy with the director dude because she deserves it, and deserves a real man who won’t mess with her. honestly, the second lead couple saved this show, ran-joo the radio show host and the young man, joon-young; because seung-yoo and ji-won’s relationship wasn’t it. i would rate this a 5.5 out of 10, because the plot just wasn’t it for me. the acting was good, but the characters were awful.

please don’t date him. this was a short interesting web drama. we follow ji-sung a programmer for an appliance team. she stumbles upon developing a refrigerator that distinguishes bad men. she is able to help the ladies around her who are confronted by horrible men. she then becomes involved with a firefighter kook-hee, but he is struggling with his past. honestly, this was a nice drama, and i am glad that i stumbled upon this one. i loved kook-he’s character and the way in which he wanted to protect those around him, and that he finally learned that he was able to accept love from those around him. they were so sweet ji-sung and kook-hee. i also loved her little trio of ladies and even though they all had different goals they came together to support one another. i would rate it an 8 out of 10.

vincenzo. y’all i loved every freaking minute of this. we meet the mafia lawyer, vincenzo casino, who comes to korea to pick up some gold but gets caught up with cha-young. she needs to avenge the death of her father, and the unjust situations around her. babel a horrible company with shady dealings is at the center of it all. and it all unfolds from there. many, like many plot twists ensue. unexpected characters. it is insanely funny, terrifying, and all the emotions in between. it was a satisfying watch i’d rate it a 12 out of 10 recommend.

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fascination-street-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Jumping on Someone Else’s Train | Narancia Ghirga x GN!Reader

His is the face of the one who lost everything, found everything, and lost it all again.

A Canon Divergence AU, in which Narancia does not follow Bucciarati on the boat in Venezia

- 200 Follower Giveaway Piece I for @vergissmeinnnicht -

Content Warnings: Regret, Angst, Mentions of Alcoholism, & Mentions of Other Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Men and women clad in suits of varying styles and colors stand along the proscenium of the tracks, waiting for the first wave of commuter trains from Venezia. With thoughts of unfinished reports, soccer practices, and uncertainties of whether to have spaghetti alle vongole or ai ricci for dinner, no one pays heed to the three battered teenagers seated just behind the line – who, mind you, certainly ought to be in school.

To your left, Fugo fumes; and yet, despite his ever-apparent anger, there is unbounded despondency in his violet eyes. Despondency indeed, perhaps for the mutual decision of yours and his, or otherwise, because of Bucciarati’s blasphemy. Although, you suppose that you cannot fault your former Capo. He has always had a proclivity for saving undesirables – yourselves, included. But his kindness is not your own.

To your right, Narancia leans over and slouches, clutching his head between two hands that have not yet healed from his scuffle with the first man of the assassination team. You cannot help but to notice that several of the crackling scabs have been picked open. You regret deeply that you had not offered to run Trish’s errands with the black-haired boy. And, though he will not admit it, as does Fugo.

The sound of a shoe tapping against the concrete flooring would be irksome to you if it were anyone other than Narancia’s doing. You cannot decide if he is merely growing impatient for the train to arrive, or rather, unequivocally conflicted about what has transpired within the past hour. A shuddering breath slips past his lips, expelling as his shoulders begin to quake. He might never forgive you for letting him snivel in public.

Gently, you place your hand on his back. Narancia stills at your touch and allows his own to fall from his reddened cheeks. Reluctantly so, he meets your concerned gaze. He fears he might disintegrate into nothing more than bones if you keep looking at him this way – like you adore and loathe him all the same.

You speak his name softly, reminiscent of some kind of lullaby that his mother might have sung to him during his early adolescence. “We need you to be here,” you tell him.

His nod is an automatic response. He contemplates the bluntness of your words, understanding well enough that they have sprung from a good heart. You have become more like Bucciarati, he thinks; your pension for austerity in love rivals his, to be sure. Narancia swallows and nods once more. “I’m here,” he insists.

He would wince at the cracking of his voice if you had turned away sooner. You pull your hand back and rest it atop your leg, curling your fingers into the threadwork of your pants. “Stay with us, then.”

The rotors of the train squeal as the machinery lulls to a stop. In truth, you would never like to board another train for as long as you should live. But this is not a luxury you can afford.

“Now boarding from Stazione di Venezia Santa Lucia to Napoli Centrale. Total travel time – seven hours and thirty-nine minutes. First stop: Ferrara.”

Within the compartment of the train, Fugo sits beside you and pours over a bit of reading that he had swiped from a kiosk before embarking. Narancia determines that the book the younger boy reads must be painfully dreadful, or implausibly wonderful. His brow furrows, as if deeply embedded in his own thoughts, but his fingers never bend to turn the page.

A quivery sigh escapes as you stare from the window, appearing to be as bored as ever. The Italian countryside passes by in blurs of likewise colored landscapes. Narancia wonders how it is that you can tell the difference between a vineyard and a farm against the speed of travel. Or maybe you cannot, though you try to anyways.

You stifle a yawn, finally succumbing to the exhaustion that has accumulated over the past several days. And yet, despite it all, you are still living. Narancia feels his own jaw beginning to twitch, and his mind drifts elsewhere, to the interlude of youth before life with Bucciarati became quite so complicated; good thoughts to keep him grounded amidst the unrest of divided loss.

As it were, he remembers the day when he first met you as if it were yesterday. Before Mista, Abbacchio, and certainly Giorno – back when the two of you, Fugo, and Bucciarati made for the greatest family whom he had ever known. The only other time Narancia has ever seen such strain upon your face was when Bucciarati took you into his home, still clothed in street-rags and muddied shoes. You had not even joined Passione yet; their then eighteen-year-old leader had acted of his own volition to take you in. He always has had a way of saving people.

Narancia knows your strife as if it is his own. Your mother died and your father neglected you; you took to thievery and pickpocketing to find whatever you needed to spend a night without an empty stomach. It was only a matter of time until, provoked by the unfortunate solidarity of utter hurt, you had clicked with the two boys.

But it was not always this way.

In truth, your eagerness to snub the boy is, of some emotional gravity, debilitating. He has always believed friendship to be deserving of the highest value of any other virtue in life. When you observe his struggles to solve seemingly simple math equations during tutoring sessions, with such an unreadable look on your face, he dreads that your hesitation has born itself from an aura of superiority that you harbor against him. The moment you turn away as Fugo’s chastisement rains upon him, he wonders how he might ever be good enough to earn your favor when he cannot be good enough for himself.

When he speculates his plan to befriend you, he thinks without fail that it must be the most brilliant little scheme in the world. Narancia begins by buying you a chocolate bar from the corner store down the street, because what peer of your age does not like chocolate? By the time he has returned home, it has begun to melt in his pocket. He hopes you will not mind, and if you do, he has already decided that he will go back and purchase a second one – cognizant to carry it instead, rather than stuffing it in his corduroys.

To his chagrin, you turn your nose up at the creased, seeping parcel. “I hate sweets,” you tell him with a heavy insistence and no succeeding explanation or defense. Never mind that he had caught you sneaking cake from the kitchen last night when you thought everyone else had gone to bed.

Alas, his resolve is strong. He supposes that it was wrong of him to assume that you would indulge in a chocolate bar, because it is simply not the same thing as cake. During an astronomy lesson with Fugo, a fetching optimism takes over. That evening, he forgoes dinner to sweep the terracotta roof of dead leaves and earthly dust. He rummages through his closet for the softest blanket he owns – blue gingham that had once belonged to his mother.

He runs into you in the hallway on his way to your bedroom; budding with courage, he asks if you would care to watch the stars with him on the rooftop, because the window in his room leads right to the widow’s walk. You roll your eyes and turn away, muttering, “Constellations make me dizzy.” But did you not tell Bucciarati in passing yesterday just how much you love searching for the little dipper when the night skies are forgiving?

Narancia’s spur is beginning to wane, though he cannot blame you. Perhaps he has been reading you wrong. He simply has not pinpointed your interests – that is all. Flipping through the channels of the television, he stumbles upon a culinary program of an older man demonstrating how to prepare bucatini alla carbonara. Struck with inspiration, the boy rushes to the market for pancetta, parmesan, and dried pasta; he has never quite had the patience for making fresh dough, so he settles for pre-packed bucatini. Surely, you will understand.

And so, he leads you into the kitchen with a grin on his face. While pointing to the array of ingredients on the counter, he asks you to lend a hand and to help him prepare dinner. You are all in need of a reprieve from Il Libeccio. “I don’t like cooking,” you say, disinterested. It surely must have been a ghost who prepared the rigatoni al pesto on this past domenica, then.

Narancia does not have high hopes when he extends to you the offer of catching the movie Panni Sporchi in the theater with Fugo and he. His crushed spirits know better by now. But it never hurts to try.

You set down whatever magazine you have snatched from the corner store and cock an eyebrow. “Comedies aren’t my thing,” you utter. “They’re not even that funny. Besides, they’re just poor imitations of life. So are romances. And dramas. Thrillers – horrors . . . Actually, I hate movies.”

He bears it with a curt nod, choosing to ignore that you had held a private viewing of Auguri Professore in the living room yesterday. His head tells him that you do not wish to be his friend, amongst other things – but his heart insists that one day, you will.

It is by chance that he should wake up this night with the irrepressible urge to use the bathroom. On his way back, skin still damp from the sink, Narancia tiptoes along the embroidered vines of the carpet. It is a solitary game he only partakes in when no one is around to question his antics. When he hears a hiccup, he surmises that he has been caught. His sock-clad feet sink into the floor as he stills and prepares himself for whatever beratement is sure to follow. Instead, there is only another gasp for breath.

No, not a hiccup, he notices: it is the sound of grief that came from your bedroom. With little regard to your privacy, he peaks his head through the cracked door.

“What are you doing, Narancia?” you demand as you wipe the back of your nose and hoist the blankets – wetted by your tears – up to your shoulders. “Get out of my room.”

In this moment, it is as if the clouds have parted and clarity canvases the sky. All this time, he truly was enough for you – it was you who was not adequate for yourself. And here you are, curled up in your bed with swollen eyes that beg him to stay even though you had told him otherwise. You are tormented by bad memories that ought to be shed like snakeskin.

Narancia steps forward. “I just wanted to tell you, uh, it’s okay to cry,” he says with a certain tenderness that seems so unfamiliar to you. He rubs the back of his neck, averting your gaze. “Even if you don’t think so.”

You gawk at him and say nothing, for words have failed you. The silence is deafening, all the same. It is an audacious move, but he smiles to you – a gesture of compassion – before turning to leave. He has overstayed his welcome, and your unrelenting stare does not make him feel any better.

“Wait.” He stops, anticipating your delayed retaliation. “Could you . . . Can you spend the night with me?”

As he lies in bed next to you, distance kept by a pillow wedged between your bodies, Narancia beams – but you cannot see outline of his grin in the darkness of the room. This night and many more will pass, and you slowly become something of a beacon. He is beholden to you, because you make him feel appreciated in the ways that not even Fugo or Bucciarati can. For this reason, he will always cherish you – a talisman encapsulated within a friend.

And now, though the seeds of regret have already begun to spring roots within him – hyacinths embedded in his heart –, he will stay strong, for you are like a pharos to him. If not resiliency for his own sake, then certainly yours.

At least, for as long as he can.

“Hey, Narancia.” Startled, he jumps in his seat and clasps his knees tightly. “Is there something on my face?” you ask.

“I – Huh?” he stumbles over any response that might have come to mind. “What do you mean?”

You chuckle. “Well, it’s just that you’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes.”

“Uh . . . I . . .”

Fugo drags his gaze from his book to your face. “I don’t see anything,” he assures with a shrug. “Actually, come to think of it, I think your nose has gotten bigger.”

The banter of humor between you and Fugo is lost on the black-haired boy. Or rather, he is far too distracted to mimic it. He stands from his seat abruptly and reaches for the door to the compartment. “I have to piss,” he mutters.

He is gone before either of you can comment on his sudden brashness. In his absence, you nudge Fugo and gesture towards his book; just as Narancia had noted, you realize that your strawberry blonde friend has not gotten past the first page of the novel ever since you had departed. You left nearly an hour ago.

“My head is just elsewhere, I guess,” he confesses to your proclamation. He closes the book and sets it down on the seat. “I’m fine, though. As much as I can be. But Narancia isn’t.”

You hum in agreeance. “I’ll go check on him.”

Water rushes from the faucet and pools in the porcelain, ceramic bowl of the basin. Steam wafts towards the ceiling, blanketing the mirror in a cloud. Narancia’s fingers curl around the rim of the sink so tightly that the coloring flees from his knuckles. He feels like a phantom, for a part of him has surely died back in Venezia.

In another world, he imagines that he might have followed Bucciarati – as would have you and Fugo. But this is nothing more than a nonsensical thought that can never be anything more than an instance of intangible pondering. He does not wipe the fog from the mirror, because he cannot bear the sight of the boy who will greet him in return.

His is the face of the one who lost everything, found everything, and lost it all again. His stomach churns and his head whirls with aches. He has never been the type of person to boast of his character; it takes a humble attitude to realize that there is nothing special about oneself – until there is. Truly, Narancia once believed that he was a proper man, because he worked for someone as virtuous as the young Capo, whose confidence bred itself and more.

“I guess I’m not much of one now,” Narancia mumbles aloud with a sigh of vexation. “Not like Mista, Abbacchio . . . or Giorno.”

He taps the tip of his shoe against the linoleum floor. As it were, his socialization into Passione – no, into Bucciarati’s squad – has taught him the moral necessities of defending the weak who cannot otherwise safeguard nor vindicate themselves. Betraying him is a dreadful regret. How can he ignore the voice in his head that affirms his folly and tells him that he is no better for abandoning Trish in all her temperamental, vain ways, either?

When the sound of knuckles rapping against the door startles him from his thoughts, his first impulse is to lash out at whoever has disrupted his mind chamber of self-reflection. “Hey, can’t you read, idiota?” he demands, angrily. “Bathroom’s occupied.”

“Narancia, it’s just me.” The scowl on his face falters as he recognizes your voice. He turns the squealing faucet until it has dried. He does not stop to catch his staggered breaths before opening the door, and perhaps he should have. Even though you have become such close companions, you still make him feel like a child under your anatomizing gaze – as if there is something particularly interesting about him after all, which takes him for a good subject of study.

Your look of concern is jarring. For a moment, it is difficult to breathe, and he wishes he had tried to calm himself first. So much for staying strong for them. You step forward and lock the sliding door behind you. If it were anyone else – even Fugo – the proximity of your body to his might have made him uneasy. You drag a finger through the film of steam on the mirror. “I’m going to ask you something,” you begin to say, “and I’d like you to answer me, honestly. Are you alright?”

He chokes up at your words, because yes – he is perfectly fine; healthy, albeit a bit battered still from his fracas with Formaggio. As soon as he manages to stop himself from instigating the scabs on his knuckles, they will heal, and he will be left with nothing more than pink scar-tissue as an everlasting memento of these past few days.

But, in other contingencies of prosperity, he is unequivocally not alright. Against his better sense of control, his eyes well up with tears, and his cognition scatters.

“Narancia?”

There are many things that a person indulges in as a means of coping, some safer than others. Men fall to the bottle, like Abbacchio – and men lash out in violent rages, such as Fugo. He could keep picking at his scabs, find an emptied compartment to scream in, or pull out his unkempt hair. Contrition moves through him like a venom, and he supposes he should find a way to suck it out before it kills him.

His hands meet your arms in a shockingly gentle, clammy grasp; he jerks himself closer and suddenly, his lips are on your own and he is kissing you. His teeth scrape against your own and he pulls you flush, as if he cannot get close enough to you already, desperate to suffocate the detrimental notions running through him. Stunned and too preoccupied with dwelling on the sweet taste of his mouth, you have forgotten how to reciprocate.

You break apart and shrug the grip on your arms, unsure of what to say as his desperate indigo ogling gauges you for a reaction – whether you should berate him or express your equal adoration, anything is preferable than the silence. “I . . . I’m sorry,” he finally says when you have not.

“It’s fine,” you insist, an unreadable poignancy sweeping your face. “You can do it again, if you need to. I don’t mind.”

He must have heard you wrong; surely, you did not give him such a blessing as this. And yet, when he cups your jaw and meets your lips halfway, you do not shove him off. Instead, you repay the gesture and swipe your tongue along his own. His heart sings for you, like a schoolboy’s choir: thank you, thank you, thank you. You swear that your legs have become melting gold, for they quiver and you can no longer stand on your own.

Or maybe it is because the train has lurched forward. Despite the separation of your lips, Narancia catches you in arms that harbor unassuming strength, but make you feel guarded, all the same. It is strange, you reflect: he has always been something of a haven to you, ever since the night when you had cast aside all hesitations of welcoming him into your circle and did exactly that.

“I just want you to know that everything will be okay,” you tell him – about the kiss, about the train, or about your shared regrets, he does not know. No matter the intent, he enjoys listening to your voice. “You aren’t alone in this, Nara. We both made the decision to leave. You don’t have to suffer on your own, because I feel just as guilty, too.”

He frowns.

“Besides, we have all we need. You, me, and Fugo. I’m glad you’re here, you know; I couldn’t do this without you.” He hastily wipes away the tears that trickle down his cheeks. Stop crying, he sneers to himself. Stop it, stop it, stop it. You pull his frantic hand away from his reddened face and lace your fingers with his, so that he might not try it again. “It’s okay to cry, even if you don’t think so.”

He blooms and comes undone, sobbing into the crook of your neck and clasping your shirt so tightly that the spooling contorts and wrinkles. You trace shapes against his back, creasing the leather with your nails. Slow, tentative, and soft. He wishes to stay like this forever, bathroom or not – just so long as he has you.

While Narancia straightens himself and splashes fresh water upon his face, you wait for him at the door. He hesitates to follow you back to the compartment, because he can lose himself to grief exactly where he is without repercussion. You know this well, and so you extend your arm for him to take with a sense of hushed encouragement. His fingers meet yours, only this time, it is not to stop him from swiping at his face until his skin is raw. “We should check on Fugo, yeah?” you suggest.

“Yeah . . .”

Down the corridor, he trails behind you like a lost stray to his savior. In a way, that is exactly what you are, he thinks. And he will forever be grateful for it. It is not until you have returned to the strawberry blonde that Narancia lets his grasp fall from yours. You return to your seats, and Fugo offers his own attempt at a smile to you each. His book lies in his lap, untouched and unmoved.

“So, Fugo.” You drag out his name, as if deep in thought. “Did you get past the first page yet?”

| 3704 Words |

#narancia ghirga x reader #narancia x reader #narancia ghirga #jjba reader insert #jjba x reader

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