#voices of the gods: you may use it....once. Per era. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shesawriter39049 · 4 years ago

Text

|PRIVATE SHOW|M|

Pairing: Taehyung X Reader

SMUT/LIGHT ANGST

About-Just a casual lunch outing where Tae’s trying to do his job and your trying to get him off under the table with your shoe...nothing new!

OR- Tae and yourself are grabbing lunch at 71 Above, after checking out the last couple of venues for the company's end of the year Holiday party. While at said restaurant, it becomes a humbling reminder that the most important people in your life are essentially a secret...cute!

WC:5k

WARNINGS: Public sex -ish( A foot-job under the table) dirty talk, teasing, light edging, frontage (kinda), overstimulation, Tae comes in his YSL leather pants, mentions of Oral (Male receiving), Tae is somewhat submissive, whilst also being a little shit. “Baby boy/Good boy” Kink

DNA Era Tae meets 2020 Tae

Tae is her baby and also her Executive Assistant

He just wants to hold her hand tbh

NOTE: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with! P.S. If you’re new here Kookie joins the party a little later….

_________________________________________________________

“So” Musing over your cocktail glass “Thoughts on the last place?”

Eyeing the man sitting across from you intently who’s clearly in the holiday spirit. Dressed in a deep red silk button-down, apparently, he’s taken a page out of Jimin’s book considering it’s barely buttoned, to begin with! Honestly, he’d be better off not even wearing one at all at this rate.

Smoky silver locks messily styled out of his face showcasing those bushy yet sculpted brows of his. One of your favorite past times has become watching Tae become more confident as he grows into himself. No longer finding the need to hide behind his long shaggy bangs, though you can’t; lie, you do kinda miss him looking like the puppy he truly is deep down. However this, version of Tae just hits different, your baby boy looks like a whole ass man and you’ll never get over it!

God the things you endlessly wanna do to him…..even after all these years....

You watch Tae sigh almost miserably over a mouthful of lobster mac which seems completely out of place considering the way the dish in question smells…“Honestly?”

Offering a curt nod, encouraging him to continue as you welcome yourself to his plate! The amount of cheese that’s trickling from your fork is actually disrespectful!

“It was cute, I liked how big the lot is, and more importantly how spaced out the spots are! You know how rich people get about people being too close to the damn cars!” Rolling his eyes as if he in he’s excluded from that category and you can’t help but scoff.

“Tae you technically are one of those people at this point. Just like...yesterday actually, you almost ripped Jackson’s balls off for bumping into your rearview mirror but carry on.” Flicking your fork in his direction, ignoring the sharp glare he sent your way in the process.

This time around I think both of his eyes managed to roll in different directions, again, Jimin’s wearing off on him! “Anyway, yeah, I don’t know, I liked the space, the exposed brick beams in the ceiling was cool. Kinda gave it a homey vibe which is fitting….”

You could hear it hanging off his tongue, he sounds very, “meh” about it, so you opt fil in the blank. “Butttt??”

“Butttt, I -It felt like...like I was forcing myself to like it…” Slouching down into his seat, features a little uneasy, as if him not liking the venue was a direct insult to the owner personally! You on the other hand you let out a bated breath that you weren’t even aware was being held, eyes wide shining with relief.

“Oh thank fuck” Hand slamming down absently along the table, “I thought it was just me, and I felt like such an ass too because-”

“They were so sweet” Came in unison, both of you almost cooing as you said it! Hands placed dramatically over your heart as you reclined against your chair.

“So sweet,” Tae parroted in a light pout,”I mean they were literally wearing matching loafers Y/n. Matching” Idly jading a fork into his side salad in a way that’s borderline concerning actually, a tad bit aggressive over there!

” But it just-I don’t know, I guess will always think like those broke college kids at heart” Flashing you a brief glowing smile that you can’t help but return, humming in agreeance.

“Which isn’t a bad thing, per say, the mentality definitely keeps us humbled! But there’s time and place for that attitude and honestly I just wasn’t feelin it! At least not in comparison to the others we’ve seen, it wasn’t fighting the vibe were going for. Regardless of how good the offer is” Shrugging over another mouth full of food and you there’s not much else for you to say because that was your consensus exactly.

Basically, once the two of you showed up, the cute little husband and wife duo offered you a deal which would essentially consist of them renting you the space for next to nothing. In exchange, they’d want you to post a couple of ads via your company and personal social media accounts as promo. Your initial thought outside of just thinking they were utterly adorable was how much money you’d save...but as Tae said, thankfully that’s not really a concern anymore, if you wanted you can get it!

Easily…discounts and barters aside, just a flick of the wrist and it’s yours!

“True, also can we just take a moment to talk about how aesthetically pleasing the Valentine was though?” Tossing your head back with a dramatic groan “I mean fuck you already know the way I feel about industrial spaces, the high, glass ceiling, all the greenery..” Eyes rolling to the back of your head with a slight moan…as you envision the space. Especially how moody and sexy the overall venue would look with thousands of lights cascading from the glass ceilings.

Clearly the venue was doing ....a lot for you right now!

Brow cocked at the blatant...enthusiasm surrounding the location in question “Mmm, well that’s something...interesting to add to the kink list, just when I thought I’d explored every avenue, but apparently not.” Voice low, teasing, head cocked to the side, a shit eating grin plastered along his lips, as he swirls his tongue along the tip of his straw in a way that’s……

“ I guess we’re adding “industrial spaces” to the list. Noted.” Smirking around his drink like the little shit he is!

Right, you may or may not have crossed your legs at the sudden drawl laced within his delivery but not before, kicking his shin with the tip of your heel, “You little shit” Rolling your eyes at the way he dramatically rubs the side of his leg, hitting you with straight puppy dog eyes as he pouts over at you as if you actually caused serious damage!.

Leaning forward a little so you don't have to try as hard to whisper, the notion has your breast essentially sitting on top of the table. Not that they weren’t already on full display in your dress or anything. Hand slipping beneath the table, landing on his kneecap. “What? Suddenly you don’t like a little pain?” Tone blatantly teasing whilst ghosting your nails agonizingly slow up his inner thigh, and his entire body goes rigid at the sensation. Tae’s always been extremely...

“God, your still so sensetive....” You weren’t intending for that to come out in the form of a moan but considering the one that fell from his lips in return...you ain’t mad about it! 100% dialed in to the way his eyes are fluttering, jaw tight, trying his damndest to play it cool, especially once the waitress makes eye contact silently asking if the two of you need anything. “Takes so little Hmm?”’

Flashing him a quick smile, waving her off for the time being, far too focused on another task to entertain anyone else right now! Only stopping your ministrations once your fingers land right beneath his balls.

“This place is very well lit, I like the hue, it’s casting a good soft-light, especially the way it’s bouncing off your complexion...” Eyes cascading against the ceiling, tone casual, until your eyes drop....

“You’d look so fuckin good, coming for me right now...” The words purr off your tongue, flashing him a cheeky little wink, and poor Taehyung chokes on his martini!

“You know how much you love being watched...I could have you making a mess all over yourself and no one would even know. ” Not even trying to hide the smirk playing on your lips when you can already feel the tension in the room rise. “My own little private show...” Eyes wicked as your fingers wander a little higher, gently pressing your palm down around his dick. Rubbing tauntingly, the touch isn't enough through the thick leather, however it does instantly make his length swell in the confines of his pants! We all know this….underwear is nonexistent in Tae’s world! “Kinda brings me back to our college days...” Teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the mere memory...you getting Tae off whilst in the lecture hall full of 300 plus students.

Regardless of the deer in headlights look flashing across his face his legs still spread apart, hips bucking forward because well as we just said...baby boy loves being watched. This however, prompts you to once again change positions, now digging your nails into the back of his thighs before letting the tips of your fingers tickle free. Coly bringing them back above surface to take another languid sip of your drink, tossing a strand of hair over your shoulder.

Ya know, I can’t say you’re surprised by his reaction, baby boy can dish it but sure can’t take it, neck and chest flushing to rival his shirt! Banging on his sternum in an attempt to reroute the liquor burning his lungs.

“Jesus-fuc-Y/n!” You have the nerve to hum inquisitively, only this time for his sanity he humors you! “Can you like not go from asulting me to-” Looking over his shoulder before dropping his voice down to a whisper “Stroking my dick, and offering to get me off under the table, all in the span of a nanosecond!?” The plea hissed through clenched teeth but the complaint was half hearted at most! Well aware his dicks already throbbing in his pants at the thought alone! “Fuck me” Sucking in a harsh breath, as he raked his fingers through his scalp.

“Well…” Tonguing at your inner cheek, eyes fluttering away as if you were in deep thought… “In my defense you kinda started it, bringing up my kink list like I don’t own a whole ass porn company!” Propping your chin on your palm, gaze locked and loaded “Like I wasn’t thinking about tainting that sweet innocent couple by letting them watch as I dropped to my knees, letting you fuc-”

“Y/n!” He actually attempts to sound almost applauded, like he doesn’t love how absolutely filthy your mouth is. However there’s a silent little “please” playing on his tongue, no matter how threatening he tried to sound.

You giggled, straight up giggled, reclining in your seat, amused, and somewhat satisfied so you let him be, for the time being anyway. Though you may have eaten your angel hair pasta in a very obscene manner, every now and then you’d sinfully suck the noodles through your overly glossed lips! However, if he dared to clock you on it you’d just simply note that it was your way of not messing up your makeup….

The two of you finish your lunch in comfortable silence, making small talk here and there, a mixture of work and bullshit until Tae’s phone goes off with a couple text notifications.

A low hum rattling in the back of his throat as he eyes the message from Hoseok. Subconsciously Tae reaches across the table, intertwining your fingers before bringing your knuckles up to his lips. Grazing them with his lips casually as he scrolls through his phone.

“Alright baby, so, I have a list ready, we have a couple brands that wanna work with us for the party. Seoks already narrowed it down to the ones that are actually worth discussing however-“

Honestly, it took both of you a minute to even realize what was going on, the skinship was second nature at this point. It wasn’t until his thumb grazed over your wedding band that the notion even resonated! Tae and yourself were a good two drinks in, feelin all warm and fuzzy and got caught up in the moment! Temporarily forgetting that you were in the middle of a restaurant in Downtown LA! Forgetting that the Kim currently caressing your knuckles and calling you baby is not the one you're technically married to! It may seem minor in retrospect, but you’ve always tried to stop yourselves from getting comfortable, with being comfortable in certain locations if that makes sense! You slip up one to many times and the next thing you know it happening in the office or on the red carpet!

Taehyung’s eyes grow almost comically wide, straight panic flashes over those big brown orbs of his and your heart sinks as you watch his head whip around, checking to make sure no one caught the interaction. It was almost painful how quickly he disconnected from you as his entire face dropped and no, just no!

“Hey...hey no it’s fine, it’s like 2 in the afternoon on a Tuesday! Not to mention we’re tucked in a booth in the corner ,we’re good, nobody heard or saw you…” Voice calm and quiet, trying to come off comforting, flashing him a weary smile. Reaching across the table to thumb at his palm, and it would be a lie to say you didn't also check over your shoulder before hand as well’

A dry almost bitter chuckle leaves his throat as he flinches away, tossing the fork down on his plate sliding it halfway across the table indicating he is more than done eating. Flicking the bridge of his nose with his index finger, jaw twitching, “Yeah, lucky me huh? I actually got to hold your hand for all of two seconds before we realized I’m techionally not allowed to do that unless were in fuckin I don’t know Alaska!”

He’s agitated, and with every right to be, even if he is being a little dramatic. Thankfully he’s keeping his voice low, but you can feel how tight his throat is, the amount of grit laced within his tenor has your eyes bugging out of there socket.

“Bab- “ It was a reflex, whenever he’s upset it’s just what falls from your lips, and he gives you a look, almost as if to say “How fucking dare you” ! The level of hurt the pet name just rendered within his eyes is-

Eyes sharp, brows furrowed “Noo, nooo, we literally just went through this. That’s not the way it works for us in this kinda setting” Flailing his arms around to reference the restaurant. “Wrong Kim” Well damn. “So it's Tae in public remember!?” Brow quirked accusingly, he’s abating this entire situation, almost like he wants you to snap, a second away from whisper yelling! “ Or maybe I should say Taehyung, hell just use my full government while your at it. Let’s make it real impersonal, Mr. Kim maybe?” Head cocked to the side as if he’s being genuine and not a total smartass right now.

You-he’s ...hurt, and you get that, hell you respect that, but Lunch at 71 Above is not the time or place for this conversation. You’re trying to approach this on a more rational level, however the condescending delivery is making it hard, and your only human. Eyes rolling to the back of your head before you can even catch yourself and that little gesture seems to be what officially set him off!

You can physically see the tension within his face... “I’m gonna go get some air, I might actually call a Uber or somethin,.” The words trailed off his lips low in mumbled but clear enough to be heard because that’s ultimately what he wanted to begin with.

There was something in his eyes you couldn’t read, a combination of anger/hurt mixed another emotion you can’t quite pinpoint! But whatever it is, you fuckin hated it! Throat running painfully dry as watch him slide his chair out and even though realistically you know at max he’s headed home...Still the gesture alone is gut wrenching because you know this runs deeper than just this situation!

“Tae” His name leaves your throat as more of a warning, reaching up to take an almost possessive grip on his wrist. Fingertips landing on the edge of his Cartier bracelet, the one you're both wearing actually, same arm and all!

A deep labored breath shutters from his chest at the contact, thighs feelin like a newborn fawn, gaze hesitantly meeting yours. “Tae, baby” Daring to use the endearment again regardless of your current surroundings “Sit back down so I can order us dessert and we can discuss whatever you want...just-please” The ending whisked off your tongue so faint your almost wondering if he even heard you!

Taehyung narrows his eyes, teeth clenched, tongue nudging his inner cheek! “I’m not really in the mood for cake right now Y/n. To be honest I just wanna leave” You know he’s aiming for dry but instead he lands somewhere around defeated , which makes it even worse. You’re both well aware this is not truly about cake, it’s about his constant need to run away from shit!

Sliding your fingers down his wrist, interlocking your fingers, giving them a firm squeeze. Eyes locked with his “Then you can get whatever you want, but I need you to just be here right now, I really, really need you to sit here, and just breathe through this with me.”

He’s know what your really asking is for him not to run away for once!

A faint little “Whatever” Leaves his lips and then he’s dead silent, silent as he slides his chair out, remaining as such for what feels like hours, and it has your heart beating painfully hard against your ribcage. It’s almost like he’s not even here, eyes fixated on some random painting on the opposite side of the restaurant, chewing at his inner cheek until....

“I’m sorry…” He admits after a baited breath, stroking your palm with his thumb gently, you can see him working over his thought’s in his head before speaking. ”I can’t - fuck I never know when I’m going to get all in my feels with shit like this, sometimes it just sucks harder than others I guess” The curt little shrug that leaves his shoulders let’s you know how uncomfortable he is, Tae’s overall persona suddenly seems mounds smaller in this moment. Anxiously stroking the back of his own neck “But....I shouldn't have come at you like that! That was fucked on my behalf and for that I’m truly am sorry ! This isn't all on you, or Joon we all-”Gazing over his shoulder before continuing “There’s just- there’s a lot, we have families and it’s just, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, ...”

Dropping his voice a little lower “I just fuckin love you” There’s a timid smile playing on his lips “and if the offer still stands I would really fuckin like chocolate cake…”

You actually snort, that’s your first instinct because only Tae, but the plus is it lightens the mood immensely! The sudden outburst triggers that full boxy grin to come into play and god your so damn enamored by this man it’s actually sad. Bringing his knuckles up to your mouth, grazing them past your lips like he did yours moments prior. “I love you too, and chocolate cake sounds fuckin amazing, and liquor, we need new drinks, actually we need an entire bottle! ” You laugh and then so does Tae, suddenly your holding hands and laughing together and everything else just seems so miniscule in the moment.

~~~~~

So, here’s the thing...being a CEO of one of the top Adult film entertainment companies is not on the same level as like..I don’t know….

Owning a high-end clothing company, or being a reality star or something. Your field is praised just as highly as it is tabooed, so with that being said, it’s not like your the top topic on E-news, or on Business Digest. You still have a strong sense of normality, point blank you’re not that important. It’s not as common for outsiders to know the high rollers within the porn industry the way it is in other fields!

However there's another avenue to factor in where the 7 of you are concerned, and that’s the world of social media, and that’s a completely different world entirely! One that’s heavily intertwined in your state in particular, living playing, and working in LA….I mean let’s get real, shit not normal here, by any means!

You’re a 26-year-old wealthy CEO, that goes to work in a Ferrari, cute little bodycons, Louboutin's, and Chanel bags! Your executive assistant is Tae for fucks sake, he looks like a model his damn self , on the surface your life is an aesthetically pleasing wet dream. An influencer without even trying for the title, if your 2.7 million followers are at all telling! So in the public eye, especially when out in Downtown LA..you try to be discreet.

Just last week Jimin was hanging all over you while walking through Saks and one of your mutual followers stopped to ask for a picture. Again this isn’t a daily occurrence, you’re not comparing yourself to Rhianna, but it’s why you do move with a slight air of caution when in your city! You literally live in a place where people become famous for running into walls, nevertheless owning their own business!

The world knows you’re married to Namjoon, and to be honest there’s numerous reasons the other aspect of your dynamic stays hidden! More than just the obvious….

However there’s been rumors circulating over the years, or at least now that Hollywood’s decided you hold some relevance! Ones pertaining your your sexuality, typically the tabloids assuming it, insulating your swingers, or that Namjoon’s bi. A Lot of these narratives circle back from your college days though, old classmates trying to slip tea to the media. Stories of when you could go to a party and it didn’t matter if you were sandwiched between Namjoon and Yoongi at the same damn time! Not to mention the dark side of social media where nothing ever truly dies, so yeah there are some questionable photos floating around. Luckily nothing recent enough to truly add fuel to the fire but you know deep down it’s only a matter of time!

One could argue it adds allure to the overall dynamic, especially considering your line of work, and maybe it wouldn’t matter if the boys were just casual thirds...but they’re not! They’re so much more than that and that’s what makes this hard, because well in laymen’s terms...people just fucking suck! So as heartbreaking as it is, where your other boys are concerned, in the public eye at least your “relationship” holds a strong air of mystery!

It’s the little things ya know? Like now for example, the fact that he could've easily gotten a foot job under the table but has to walk on eggshells about holding your hand at times! Shit just sucks sometimes, there’s no other way around it!

~~~~~~~

The two of you don’t really talk much until the dessert comes, more drinks and a bottle is in fact ordered as well! The silence felt a little more bearable this time around, busying yourselves on your phones. A very minor but significant change, is the fact that you still haven’t let go of his hand, even once the waitress returns. The simple notion has his entire dementor shifting! Fingers still tightly bound together and your chest flutters seeing the way he flushes almost bashfully at such minor PDA! Like the two of you didn’t hook up in the back of a club in London two months ago! Like you literally weren’t palming him under the table! Yet here he is blushing at openly holding your hand!

So fuckin cute!

Eventually two pieces of molten chocolate crepe cake gets brought over and holy fuck! Both moaning in unison as the pastry hits the table...

“Oh my goddd, we have to take a piece home for Jin, the like...convince him to learn how to make it!” You watch Tae’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he laces his lips around the fork! Groaning out in agreeance once the mixtures of pure sin hit his tongue.

“K...now back to , these sponsors...” Prompting over a mouth full of cake, not that you wouldn’t love to sit here and chill all day but you do have a 4pm conference call!

You watch as Tae glances down at your intertwined fingers, and his fork....realizing ones gotta go so he can pick up his phone and you physically coo back at him, melting into your set once he opts to drop the fork instead of your hand. Purposely avoiding your glance once he noticed the look on your face, nose scrunched and all!

“Right, so Uber reached out, more specifically Uber Luxxe, looking to send us 4 cars of our choice in exchange for a couple post. Spread out between IG, Twitter and Snap, I’m personally all for this one. The contract doesn’t seem excessive and I like that the post won’t feel forced! I mean realistically we were going to hire a driving service regardless! However something to also consider is our lack of filter when drinking! I mean...”Flailing his phone between the two of you as if to give an example, obviously referencing the little slip up moments prior. At least he can joke about it a little “So realistically, would we feel more comfortable with a private car service where there’s a contract involved as opposed to just some random?”

Tae just went full EA, out of nowhere and honestly ...

You blinked at him, almost dazed, fork halfway to his mouth because, what?! . “You sound so professional right now, it’s so fuckin hot.”

Tae choked on nothing but straight air before blushing profusely. “Baby-I mean-Y-“

You didn’t even flinch, continuing, unperturbed. “Nah, actually I think I’m in the mood to be baby right now!” Eying him wickedly “Your jaw just gets really tight, and your voice gets all low and raspy! It happens during meetings too, it’s really fuckin sexy! Reminds me of the way you sound when your lips are pressed into the side of my neck when we fuck.” It's just the casualness of it all, you sound like your ordering another appetizer and Tae’s about to choke on his dessert.

The grip he has on your hand is almost painful right now, “But don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here writing out my next script in my head, carry on. What rental service did you have in mind? Or did someone already reach out as well?”

It’s the way you just went from talking about Tae, being balls deep to sponsorships all in the span of a comma! In the words of your best friend you are pure chaos.....

Tae groans head hanging in defeat and your lips curl into a smirk, brow quirked in his direction.

“It’s the way I hate it here sometimes...” Snatching his hand away to jab his fork into the neglected pastry.

“Ah huh” You roll your eyes crossing your arms over your chest before leaning back. “Right, again let’s not act like you didin’t start this, both here and at the venue.” Leaning over the table again licking your lips “Don’t act like you weren’t eye fucking me the entire time, or the way you’d accidentally brush against me as we walked through the building. You’ve been practically begging for it all day.”

Tae just stares back at you, mind momentarily blank, stomach shifting into knots, letting the fork drop from those delicate fingers of his! Mouth opening and closing like a fish straight outta water...

“Did you think about it too? The acoustics in that place were fuckin insane, the way it would just echo through as you made me cum would just- fuck” You continued adding that lethal little purr back into your voice! “Or even better the way you’d sound, you don’t even know how bad I wanted to drop-“

“Y/n”

“Baby.” Phrasing the word borderline as a threat “Would you have liked that baby boy?” Cocking your head to the side, tongue teasing your bottom lip “Me on my knees for you looking up at you all pretty, letting you hold my hair and fuck my throat until you came straight into my mouth?”

Speaking of mouths' your just straight fuckin-mayhem ...and it’s making Taehyung’s brain feel like it’s melting through his ears! But god should we be surprised though?

It’s never taken much with you....

You’ve always been just what he needs and a little bit more than he can take all in one! You haven’t even touched him yet and he feels a moan creeping up his throat! Especially as he watches you swirl the tip of your tongue over the whipped cream on the edge of your fork, sucking it between your overly glossed lips in the most obscene manner.

Eyes locked and loaded, a second away from drooling, “Fuck, yeah,” He stutters breath hitching on his lungs, heat coursing through his skin. Tae’s veins literally feel like they’re on fire, subtly trying to shift in his seat to readjust himself! Glancing subconsciously out of his peripheral, the restaurant still chill and half empty. The waitress on the opposite end of the room attending to another couple!

“You always look so damn good with my cock down your throat, and my cum on your tounge. God, especially when I wrap my hand around your throat and I can feel you swallowing down around my-” Your tongue’s swirling all over this damn fork, and he can feel every flick your tongue against his dick, and it’s just...fuck! Not to mention once you accidently spilled some whipped cream on your lips, which you took your time licking off as well. “Jesus-Fuck, Y/n!!” Taehyung’s voice is dripping with arousal, and you already know he’s leaking all over the place.

“Yeah?” Humming around the form before setting it to the side “ You like the way I look when I’m chocking on your cock?” These questions are all rhetorical, your an ass “Or how about when I get a little messy because I can’t fit it all in my mouth?” Your eyes darken, words coming out over low gasps of air, almost as if your just as aroused as he is and that’s because you are!

“Your always such a good boy for me, so helpful too holding my hair back, guiding my mouth until you hit the back of my throat...holding me in place until I gag. You know how much I love when you get rough with me ..” Tae feels the sole of your red buttons tease up his thigh, shifting between his legs. The transition was so damn smooth it catches him off guard, instinctively wanting to push away but instead...

“You’d be loud for me too wouldn’t you? Show them how good you look falling apart for me, how good you look when you come down my throat....The way your eyes roll-”

“Holy-fuck Baby” Aggressively running his palms over his face until it’s matching his shirt “Please don’t do this to me right, now, if your gonna give it to me then fuckin let me have it but I cant-.”

You can’t help but smile back at him, so fond it almost seems out of place in the moment. “I’ll give you whatever you want Tae...you know this. You just gotta promise you’ll be good for me, we can’t draw-”

“I’m always good” He damn near growled at you, eyes daring you to say otherwise and well, who were you to deny Tae of what he wants!?Gently pressing your foot at the base of his cock, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips upon feeling that your boys already fully hard.

It’s the way the two of you are just casually in one of LA’s boujeiest restaurants and your deadass about to give him a foot job in Louboutin’s! Yup, your life had turned into a porno, you’ve officially made it!

“Kay, so back to that list of sponsors, first off I completely agree, as much as I love our contact at Uber I’d prefer an actual car service for something like that.” Here you go again the queen of the switch up, you’re back to discussing work yet there’s still a slight moan in your tenor. Breathy and light and Tae feels like all the airs being sucked from his lungs.

Tae shifts, spreading his thighs even further, shuddering out a bated breath as you point your toe, dragging it up and down! It’s a peep-toe so that alone allows you a little more flexibility! Pressure intentionally light so it’s just enough to have him on the brink of begging! But instead of doing so, he picks up his phone, hands shaky and all and continue doing his job as requested!

“Right..” Clearing his throat not sure why he currently sounds like he’s going through puberty again but K... “I’ll let Hobi know, maybe we can do something we’re we use them while planning this party or something! Since you vetoed a party planner will have a lot more running around to do! Realistically outside of Joon and Jin we all have coupes anyway...so it’s not like we can carry much!”

Mmm, always the innovator, even when all the blood and airs being rushed to his dick! You feel him try and slide forward, chasing after the stimulation.

“Ohhh, I really like that, and like you said it still feels somewhat organic because realistically our cars aren’t efficient for something like that” You press down harder against his cock almost as a reward “Good boy, what’s next?” Nodding towards his phone and it takes every ounce of self control he had to swallow down the moan laying on his tongue.

Eyes struggling to stay ajar as you continuously rub your foot up and down his length. Now applying more prominent pressure with the ball of your feet! Movement stealth from the waist up so you don’t draw attraction to yourself.

“Tae Tae” The nickname falls from your lips singsong like, and far too innocent for the demon seed you are. “Next?”

He doesn't even know what to really do except follow instructions, so he just nods, scrolling through his phone. “There was also a couple brands wanted to oh fuck-“ Gasping as you pick up your pace, damn near dropping his phone into the plate beneath him.

Face splitting into an amused grin, a hint of something wicked playing on your lips. Eyes gleaming with mischief, you watch those long, delicate fingers flex, clearly struggling this time around to bite back the moan like he needs to! Hands shaking as your continue working him at a merciless pace. Rubbing faster, harder, utilizing the rounded point on the head of your heel to press right against what your assuming is Tae’s tip by the way he shudders. Thighs shaking as he grips the edge of the table for dear life!

“Oh my godddd” Tae manages to just mouth the words as opposed to screaming them the way he desperately wants too. Tugging on his own scalp, trying to just do something to get himself busy!

“You fuckin love this....” It’s not even a question, more of a consensus!

Your eyes haven’t left his once, watching intently as you swirl your tongue around the straw before taking a sip. Moaning around it because well ya know, the drinks just that damn good apparently.

God his skin feels like it’s on fire, every stroke of your foot has him feeling like he’s coming undone!

He’s trying to focus, on his surroundings, this damn list everything but he can’t he just fucking can’t! Thankfully it’s you, and he trust you with everything he has, so his subconscious is somewhat at ease with all of this because he knows you got him!

“Yeah,fuck yeah you already know you can do anything to me” He states plainly, the most stable his voice has sounded in god knows when “Whatever you want” Gaze heavy through hooded lashes, looking straight at you with steady sinful eyes.

“Mmm, and always want it don’t you baby? Always...:”

He bites back a moan nodding, and then his phone rings, of course his phone fucking rings and it’s coming from the office because why the fuck not?!

“Answer” The command was simple, clearly no room for debate and hs eyes go wide,

“Baby” Complaining with a hint of a whine in his voice and when you don’t seem to give a damn....

“Yeah?”Jaw tight, nostrils flared as he picks up the phone. Adrenaline flies through his veins, pressure building in his gut as you relentlessly keep your pace intact! Pressing harder and deeper into all the right places until he’s coughing around Moans to try and cover it up!

Dropping his head slightly, propping it on his elbow as he squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “ Welp, That's where it would be so if you don’t see any were out, email me a list and I’ll make a Amazon-“

Taehyung’s chest heaves painfully tight, breathing becoming more erratic with every stroke and yes clearly there’s a strong voyeurism kink within this man! So as crazy as it may sound , the combination of the restaurant, and this phone call ?!

Yeah, he’s not gonna last!

Slouching down completely against the back of the booth, thighs spreading to full capacity. Fingers tangled in his Smokey locks holding his bangs out of his face. Eyes shut , jaw tight, neck slightly reclined, though to the naked eye he’d just appear to be on a very unpleasant phone call! When in all actually he’s finally just letting himself fall apart beneath your touch!

Eyes fluttering open just enough to glance down at you in a way that had you feeling like you could come right with him. Your gaze is Just as heavy as his, lips darting out to wet your lips though your throats suddenly what’s running dry!

Tae’s lips part slightly, though he’s falling apart he’s giving it right back to you. Hitting you with those sinfully needy fuck me eyes! The same ones you see when your riding and edging him until he’s coming tenfold! His breathing comes stagnate every time your foot moves and Tae finds himself gnawing down on his bottom lip to stifle the moans sliding up his chest! You can tell who's on the other end now, it’s the new secretary Alanna, and she legitimately is still getting her footing! Which is the only reason Tae is even entertaining the call, well one of the reasons!

You notice Tae’s breathing is starting to even out a little almost as if he’s gained some of his self control back and we don’t support that in this household. So you proceed to dig your foot right into the head of his cock and he straight wheezes! Body jerking off the wall and all ...

“No, I’m, fuck-“ There’s a moan that finally falls freely off his tongue that only barley seems acceptable because he in fact just choked! Voice coming out what feels like a octave lower and huskier , poor Alanna! “Yeah i'm good sorry , food just went down the wrong pipe.” He can barely think straight but he knows he needs to close this up “Hey look will be back within the hour and will sort it out then alright?”

I don’t even think he even waited for her to respond before hanging up and literally throwing his phone across the table! Gucci case and all.

“Everything okay? ?” Voice low and teasing, he knows you're technically asking about the office but your timing sucks ass!

“Fuck you” Falls off his lips in a barley audible moan, so consumed as his orgasm builds in the pit of his stomach! Eyes still struggling to stay open mouth, mouth falling slack, if your were in your right mind you’d tell him to pull it together alittle! Now that he’s off the phone, he either looks like he’s getting a foot job, or like he’s high on meth! Neither are appealing to the GP! God, he must look utterly ridiculous right now, thankfully he’s shifted against the booth so he’s facing a wall as opposed to other guest!

“Mm, my pretty baby’s close yeah?” Watching how heavily his throat bobs as he swallows, Tae’s leaking precum all over the damn place, so, close hips gently rocking into your foot as discreetly as possible, growing more desperate by the second. Fuck he needs to come, he needs to!

“Yeah baby please don’t- fuck” God he sounds so good, so needy and pliant and fuck!

“I got you...” At that you actually kick your shoe off, moving back to press down even harder, rubbing and rubbing forcing Tae to attempt to grab his drink in attempts to muzzle himself. However his hands are shaking too hard and he almost knocks it over!

“God baby I’m-“

“Be a good boy for me”

And he is, coming with a shuddering breath, under the steady pressure of your foot as his release tears through his veins. Dropping his to the table as subtly as possible(Hell maybe people will think he’s tipsy or not feeling well), thighs shaking, chest heaving painfully hard. He’s not completely silently but he does a lot better than expected, a low groan manages to slip past his lips.

“Good boy” The praise rolls off your tongue and goes straight to his dick, as if he needed anymore stimulation there. Another faint whimper falls off his lips until he’s drooling all over the table. Not even realizing initially, that his hips were still grinding into you until he’s hissing from oversensitivity! The force of his orgasm has Taehyung drawing straight blanks, hearing nothing but white nose rustling in the background!

Also, I don’t know what that says about Tae as a person but he’s not even remotely humiliated! The only thing that he’s about to regret once his mind's less foggy is how absolutely drenched his YSL leather pants are!

So busy trying to get his breathing back in check as he comes down from his high, he completely missed the way you’d signaled to the server. Calmly asking for her to add 8 more slices of cake to go, and bring the bill over!

His face is flushed, his pants feel gross as hell but above everything else he feels so damn good! Reaching down to still your foot, gently massaging the top as his eyes finally flutter open! Vision still a little hazy as he looks back at you with a dazed smile, and your gazing back at him with so much fondness that the first thing that slurs off his lips in a whisper is....

“I fuckin love you!”

Flashing him a wink in return as you make eye contact with your servers whose letting you know she’ll be over in a moment. Keeping your foot stationary for a moment, enjoying the well deserved foot massage. Occasionally flexing your toes to “accidentally brush against his dick. Giggling around your drink every time he'd hiss and jerk away!

This entire lunch situation was a damn mess, and high key reckless but, the blissed out smile written all over his face is more than worth it. Where just ugh...not gonna tell the boys about this!

“Love you too Tae”

~~~~~~~~~

Everything from that moment on kind of feels like a blur honestly, up until the two of you sliding into your car and before you can even get yourself settled he’s on you! Yanking you out of your seat and into his lap before you can even put your seatbelt on which obviously is not ideal this is a sports car after all but you don’t dare complain! Taehyung’s far from shy with his wants, griping the back of your neck, sliding his fingers through your hair as he presses your lips together! He doesn’t try to ease you into it either It’s hard, hungry, desperate and overtly needy! Forcing both of you to huff out a staggered breath through your nose to even keep up! You breathe him in, and he breathes you out, it’s all open mouthed, and heady, an obscene amount of moans rolling off your tongues. Reclining your jaw, giving him free reign to explore your mouth. Tongue rolling against your slick and languid with years of finesse between the two of you. No matter how hard he’s kissing you it still doesn’t feel rushed, its deep, borderline sensual actually!

Tae pulls back just enough to nip at your bottom lip, dragging his across your jaw and down the side of your neck! Licking sucking and biting, along your skin, moaning at the way you arch and grind your hips into every touch! The two of you carry on like that until there’s suddenly something thumbing in the back of your throat!

“Hey..” There's a slight sternness within your voice that has him instantly trying to snap out of his postcoital haze. Stroking the hinge of his jaw “You know, how much I love you right? And if, we need to all sit down a re-”

Cutting you off with the smooth glide of his lips pulling you into a kiss that’s a slower, less needy, there’s no ulterior motive, Tae just wants to feel you “Nah, I don't wanna change anything sometimes- I just want-”

“I know...” Because you do, pressing your forehead to his, not even kissing just letting your breaths melt as one. Massaging his scalp gently, he already looks like he’s a second away from passing out! Pondering if maybe the two of you should switch places...

“Promise you’ll let me take care of you later” Tae nuzzles against the side of your face like a puppy wanting his ears scratched! Believe it or not he wasn’t always such a selfless lover, not until he found you guys! Now it’s almost like his orgasms feel incomplete if he’s the only one coming once it’s all said and done!

“You can do whatever you want to me Tae, you know this.” Placing a couple lingering kisses on those pouty lips of his before hesitantly shuffling into the passengers seat. Transfixed on the way he slips back into his lane, fixing his hair, pulling out his oversized cat eye frames to rest on the bridge of his nose. One hand on the wheel the other finding there home on your thigh. Noting the slight discomfort as he shifts in his seat, no doubt due to the fact that well, he just came in his pants.

“How about..” Leaning over to place a open mouth kiss right beneath is ear, digging your nails into his thigh until he moans. “ I clean you up a little on the drive, and we pit stop at mine, and we drop you off first so you can shower and chill. Then me and Joon will come back and crawl into bed with you after were done for the day..”

“Am I being given the rest of the day off Mrs. Kim?” You can already hear the smirk in his voice without even looking...

“Yes Mr. Kim that would be correct....” Already working the zipper before he can even respond because you already know how this is about to pan out...

___________________

Hi my babies, first off IDK where this came from, I also wouldn’t consider it my best, but it was the first thing I’ve written in like 6 months which felt good. This was supposed to be up back in December I had a couple holiday prompts for the series that I never got around to completing ! But If you enjoyed show this some love and come talk to me!

Love always,

Rocki

#taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehung #kim taehyung smut #bts #bts smut #bts x reader #kim taehyung x reader #kpop #kpop smut

186 notes · View notes

sweetsubharry · 4 years ago

Note

Can you rec some omega harry fics pls?

Yes I can!! ^-^ So because this is a particular favourite of mine I counted 68 fics in this list so as a warning it’s a long list!!

In case no one makes it to the bottom I’ll say it here too! Please stay safe and read the tags!!💕💕

'Cause Your Embrace Keeps Me Warmer by scribblewrite

Mates and soulmates are two completely different things. Mates are two people, an alpha and omega, who bond together while knotted together when the alpha bites a bond point on the omega’s body. It ties the two of them together forever or until one of them breaks the bond. It's normally the step after marriage. One could only hope to meet their soulmate.

You Could Be My Ever After by scribblewrite

His heat was gone, finally gone, and he'd been able to sleep for longer than thirty minute intervals. Not only that, but he was in his alpha's arms. He felt warm, and safe, and protected, and he honest to god didn't want to move. Harry and Louis spend the next couple days together after they've bonded with Louis taking care of Harry and the two of them getting to know each other better. Louis and Harry meet for the first time and, being soulmates, Louis's rut and Harry's heat are triggered.

Fill My Heart With Sweetness by loopdelouis

Harry's a late bloomer, but since his luck is shit, it's no surprise that he'd be the last to get a heat, but the first to get pregnant. In high school.

Let's Embrace The Point Of No Return by sweaterpawstyles

Louis was a whole new scale of beautiful, he was richer than Harry could've ever imagined, and he was the most powerful, dominant alpha that Harry had ever come in contact with. The only problem now is that Louis is also Harry's boss.

Louis believed Harry was an alpha, and had no idea about how he had lied about his status just to get an interview with Louis. He was in too deep now and he couldn't look back.

Harry is an omega intern at an all alpha company. Louis is his boss. There's some complications.

Count The Wolves And We'll Sleep Tonight by scribblewrite

Louis's the Alpha of a powerful pack and Harry's his omega.

When Harry's taken by rogue alphas, Louis will do anything to bring him home safely.

turn the sky black into a sky blue by orphan_account

Harry forgets that noses exist. Louis is a badass motherfucker. They bang.

“I’ve been in love with you since I dropped my books in the hallway and you made fun of me when you picked up my John Green novel off the ground.”

Our Lips Are Made Of Candy by Waking_dreams

“Your knot, please, Louis,” he managed to whine. He needed it, that extra stretch and burn that made him Louis’.

“Fuck,” Louis moaned, and his thrusts became unsteady. “Can’t do it here, baby, Hazza, can’t—“

Or, Harry accidentally missed a few doses of his medicine that controls his heat and starts his heat in the middle of Biology. Oops

I Can't Hear You by kikikryslee

"I’m not supposed to be built this way!" Harry said. "I’m supposed to be shorter than you, and you’re supposed to be stronger than me and-“ “Harry!” Louis tried to interrupt. “And what if I’m not supposed to be an omega? What if my body screwed up somewhere or something? What if I’m not supposed to be your omega?” --- Or, the one where Harry is self-conscious about his body because it's not the 'typical omega body' and Louis shows him why he loves that.

You Know I'll Be by JustAnotherShadow503

Louis Tomlinson, 27, is the personal photographer for well-known model Harry Styles, 21. Louis, an Alpha, has been in love with Harry for years, though the younger man has seemingly not presented yet.

Or, the one where Louis is in love with Harry, tries to be a martyr at his own expense, and is a hopeless romantic.

Or, the one where the author is shit at coming up with summaries and hopes you'll read the story anyways.

I'd Go Out of My Way To Make Sure That You're Okay by littlepinkbow

This was for this prompt: "Harry's embarrassed about going into heat, but Louis decides it's up to him to teach Harry to be more open about what he wants."

As Small As Possible by Mickey_D

Harry is a rather shy omega who's quite convinced everyone (except his best friends) laughs at him behind his back and sometimes to his face.

Louis is a confident alpha who is taken with his best artist's friend.

Zero Means Nothing When I'm With You by StripedAndBowtied

Louis doesn't know what he's looking for until he finds it.

Harry just knows he may defy his gender norms, with his height and clumsiness, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want litters of pups running around while he does domestic things all day long.

In other words, boy meets boy and no one can stop pining.

Boys Fall Like Dominoes by orphan_account

Harry slips into an early heat while riding the tube. Naturally, that's when he meets Louis.

Looking In The Dark by orphan_account

Another self-indulgent a/b/o fic. This carries on from the same verse of Boys Fall Like Dominoes. As per always, you can find me on tumblr : domestic-harry

Enjoy! -Lis xx

Too Hot (Hot Damn) by louissass

“I’m what?”

“You’re in heat, baby,” He repeats, frowning when he catches the look on Harry’s face. “I thought you realised?”

Or, the one where Harry goes into heat in the middle of a concert but doesn't realise because of the heatwave.

i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby

Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.

Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless.

The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality. And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.

(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)

Drape Me In Your Warmth by fookinglousers

TMH era fic where Harry is an omega whose heat comes a little earlier than expected and really, who is Louis to deny him his knot?

pick my petals off (make my heart explode) by orphan_account

It’s when he’s frantically looking into the medicine cabinet for something to take that it hits him. He stares at the bottles of pills in horror, realizing what’s going on with him.

He’s completely forgotten about his suppressants. And he’s been spending so much time with Louis, too—of course the alpha’s constant proximity is going to trigger it.

He breaks into a sweat, now recognizing the hot feeling twisting inside him.

He’s going into heat.

(harry unexpectedly goes into heat in the middle of finals, and louis, being the good boyfriend that he is, helps harry through it.)

harry, you little shit by juliusschmidt

Harry’s an omega and he’s learning to like it. A lot.

All These Lights by MediaWhore

“People vote for alphas because they’re strong and they’re not only beautiful but also mesmerizing. They make you want to give them all of your attention, make you want to beg for some of theirs back. They’re shiny, oozing sex appeal and a commanding presence, and people always want more and more. Omegas are enticing too for sure, but it’s not the same. It makes people uncomfortable. It doesn’t make them want to root for you.”

the canon fic where Harry is an omega and dreams come with a price.

Pretend It's Okay by TheIfInLife

Harry and Louis are busy with life. Busy watching Zayn and Niall's twin boys, busy hanging out with friends, busy with life. And they forget Harry's suppressants.

taste on my tongue (just can't get enough of you) by messyjessy08

“Babe?” Louis asks, running a hand through Harry’s hair, soothingly. “What is it?”

Harry shakes his head, teeth digging into his bottom lip, sharply. “My—it’s—”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What, Harry?”

He pulls a hand up to his chest, pressing hard against one of his pecs, “My fucking—her crying’s making them—Lou.”

Louis gasps, understanding. He reaches a hand up, pushing Harry’s aside, and thumbs gently across Harry’s nipple, somehow already dark and swollen, without having touched them once. “Harry,” He says in a low voice, chest rumbling at the sharp gasp Harry makes.

“Lou, they’re fucking—’m leaking.��

(Harry and Louis just had a baby and it's been a while since they've had sex.)

you took your toll on me (you got a hold on me) by messyjessy08

“Well give us a twirl. Let’s look at you from every angle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, gaze heavy. “Alright.” Pulling back the tail of his shirt, he spins slowly, pausing when his back’s facing Louis.

“Harry.” Louis attempts to gather his wits, speechless. “Baby.”

“Thought you might like that part as well,” Harry says, a smirk in his voice.

Thick strips of lace drape delicately over his skin, just under the bottom of his spine, connecting with thin elastic straps that move across his arse, leaving little sections of bare skin showing. The straps connect to form a diamond pattern, creating an opening right over where his hole would be. The skin surrounding it is already shiny with slick. Louis’ breath gets trapped in his lungs.

(Harry and Louis have the weekend to themselves, they make the most of it.)

This Thing Upon Me (howls like a beast) by SadaVeniren

Harry and Louis weren’t meant to be together. They’d met when they were put together through their university’s AO MatchUp, a program that set up alphas and omegas based on the schedules of their ruts and heats so they had someone to help them through it. It was pure luck that they were put together.

Lunch Break by purpleeyestelllies

Harry decides to bring his alpha lunch at work and surprise him with a visit from him and their baby daughter. Louis gets more than one surprise.

drunk on rose water by brainwaves

It’s the first time in a few years that Harry has a strong desire to risk everything for something he loves.

The last time, it was being a fashion model. This time, it’s Louis.

with his educated eyes (and his head between my thighs) by orphan_account

"We're...we're not the same," Harry says softly, looking at his hands. "I don't care," Louis replies back, fire and fury in his eyes.

or where Harry is just a little boy in a world full of arseholes, Louis is in way over his head, and destiny is a bunch of shit.

Everything I Do (I Do It For You) by LSFOREVER

"It's gonna be perfect," Harry whispers, taking Louis' face in both of his hands, nosing close but not yet kissing him. "Always is. You always make everything perfect."

"Good. Whenever your heat finally kicks in, I'll make sure to treat you perfectly too... I'm gonna bond you so hard."

or, Harry's heat is coming up and they've planned to finally bond, so Louis decides to plan a very eventful and loving week leading to said bonding.

resolutions and lovers in the kitchen by orphan_account

Their dinner’s probably going cold, but this feels monumental. So instead of sitting them down on the table and talking about it face to face over chicken and pasta, Harry just puts his hands over Louis’ where they’re settled on his lower stomach, not letting the moment slip past them. He takes a deep breath, carefully arranging his thoughts. “She looks really lovely, Louis. Positively glowing. Her bump’s so big, and…” he trails off, breath hitching slightly when Louis lifts his hand higher, settling it right over Harry’s stomach, and that’s—

“And what, baby?” Louis asks, voice now dropped to a whisper, and Harry has to take a moment to collect his thoughts.

“She, um. She knows about you, of course, and she asked me when we’re—when we’re having a baby of our own.”

(harry teaches little kids and louis writes sports articles. they're trying for a baby.)

Make It Work by fanshae

Prompt: Arranged marriage AU. Harry is an omega who has reached the age where he must be married due to his family's income status. Only the aristocratic omegas are exempt. His parents try to hide him but eventually the government gets word and in punishment, gives the omega to a spoiled aristocrat son of a lord, Louis. Louis is more than thrilled to have his own omega and once Harry goes into heat, he explores the boy with fascination and unintentionally impregnates him. This leads to a boy used to living carefree and drinking the day away with other nobles to having to face fatherhood.

This is only vaguely similar to the prompt so I'm sorry to OP in advance v.v

Stars Will Align For Us by 2tiedships2

"The serial monogamist is single," Niall said by way of introduction when he sat down across from Harry in the canteen.

Harry sipped his chocolate milk. "What are you going on about?"

"Your alpha dream boat," Niall said. "That tiny little footie player? I heard from Hannah that he's broken it off with his boyfriend so he’s single and ready to flamingle. Now's the time to make your move."

Harry sipped his chocolate milk harder to keep himself from replying.

Or the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis...especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.

Watch the Sun Coming Up by SadaVeniren

As Louis approaches his thirtieth birthday his pack is desperate for him to find a mate.

Harry has always expected one day he may settle down with a nice alpha and they would continue to live in his small hometown.

Together they somehow will make this work.

Dancing Shadows by SadaVeniren

The house was quiet by the time Louis walked up to it. He’d been away for a week and while it wasn’t the longest he’d ever been away from the pack, it was the longest he’d been away from Harry and the kids.

i'll be hurt from the heat (running from the heat) by itiswhatitisbutterfly

It's engrained into him, nothing else matters, protecting Harry at all costs is what pumps his heart and floods his veins. It’s just, he didn't count on the one thing Harry would need protecting from would be himself.

(Harry and Louis are in love, and they are probably soul mates. They just can’t be bond mates because despite the undeniable pull, it's them against the world.)

A Howl in the Night by emeraldharry

They've been trained to become Alpha protectors of their city, tasked to battle gruesome beasts and put their lives at risk on a daily basis.

Louis is a skilled warrior and dedicates his life for the protection of others, along with his four adopted brothers and comrades; Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Harry.

Troubles emerge when Harry proves to be a little less like the older Alphas, finding it hard to become who he's supposed to be and failing to reach other people's expectations towards him as a soldier.

Somewhere along the way, Louis and Harry realize that there's more than brotherly love between them, and that the world they live in requires a whole lot of suffering and sacrifices.

The biggest challenge yet arrives when the choice finally comes down between two things: their love for each other, or their responsibilities to the world.

[alpha/beta/omega dynamics with a twist]

Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by angelichl

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

Peppermint and Lavender (and Coffee) by 2tiedships2

“He was there again,” Louis announced by way of greeting. “Lottie was right and she can never know.”

"What the fuck are you talking about?” Niall asked as he snapped his laptop closed.

“The omega, Niall. He was there today. Just sitting in the corner looking pretty. Or at least his back is. He hasn’t turned around when I’m available to see. I know he’s beautiful though.”

"Okay?” Niall questioned. “What does that have to do with Lottie?”

Louis let out a huff. "She told me I shouldn’t work at a coffee shop. She was right.”

Or the one where Louis might have met the love of his life in a coffee shop. But that’s not how it’s supposed to happen.

Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) by hlftanna

“Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much.

“Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased. Harry giggled again.

“You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all.

Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

Home (It's You) by sunniskies

When Louis left his high-powered life in the city to settle down in the suburbs, he had hoped to one day fall in love and start a family. He certainly didn’t expect to meet the omega of his dreams within five minutes of moving in.

He also didn’t expect the love of his life to hate him so much.

Or, Louis and Harry are neighbors who can't seem to get along...until they fall in love.

sometimes green and sometimes blue by itsmiz

Harry's an omega, and Louis is an Alpha. They're best friends growing up together on the outskirts of Washington, D.C., but they've always been a bit more than friends.

little bitty rattle (and all our dreams are comin' true) by itsmiz

Louis and Harry are young mates in love. This is the story of them expanding their family, and all the love, hormones, and events that come with that.

cradles and crayons by itsmiz

Harry and Louis continue to expand their family.

Just Jump by jaerie

Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.

“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

Want It Flowing Through My Streams by screwstyles

Wimbledon ABO AU: Harry has just qualified for his first Grand Slam, and he’s prepared to make the most of it – that is, until his heat unexpectedly hits him only a few days before his first match. And it’s just his luck that Louis Tomlinson, the resident bad boy of British tennis, is the only person around to help him.

hard to confess by hereforlou

One, they only did it without a condom once (and a half) and not during his heat. Never during his heat. Two, he never once forgot to take his birth control (he’s almost sure). Three, his plan is to be married for a year before he even starts trying for a baby, and not only is he very, very single, him and Louis aren’t even sleeping together anymore. Which brings him to reason number four why this can’t be happening: Louis. Louis doesn’t want a baby with Harry.

(Or, the one where Harry knows he messed up and Louis knows nothing.)

Just a touch of your love by thegirlontheblackhoodie

“What if something happened to you? What would I say to Niall?”

“Nothing, he would have to wait to see my corpse on the news like everyone else.” Deadpanned Harry. Louis’ gasp was all the answer he got. Ok, so that might have been a bit too much. With a calmer voice, he said, “It’s really fine. I’ve walked to the tube countless times, I can handle myself. Just go home and tell Niall to stop mothering me.”

Louis was finally walking by his side and gave him a sideways glance before talking. “He doesn’t know, does he? Of your, uh, condition.” Harry tensed and his breath became erratic, but he didn’t say a word. Louis continued. “His nose probably hasn’t picked it up, and you’re lucky Liam’s also a beta, but it took me a minute to confirm it. Your scent is gettin’ so…” He seemed to struggle to find a word. He didn’t finish the sentence, but the emotion in his voice made Harry’s tummy churn.

Or, Harry is a touch starved omega trying to get through it on his own. Louis happens to be the only alpha around to realize it and offers to help.

Face Your Fears by SadaVeniren

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

I Just Want You to Stay by SadaVeniren

“Remember the vet job up in Edinburgh I interviewed for right before your rut?” Louis nodded. “She just called me back. I got the job. I start next year.” Harry let out a shriek as he said the word year and he clapped his hands in delight. “Isn’t that great! Full time vet job! New animals to meet! A new environment!” He settled his eyes back on Louis, who was still standing there in front of him with wide eyes. “Isn’t it great, Lou?”

That seemed to jolt Louis out of his thoughts and he nodded immediately, opening his arms up for Harry to dive into. “Holy shit, yes. Congratulations. Come here,” he wrapped his arms around Harry and cuddled him close, pressing his nose into Harry’s neck. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

aka Louis and Harry have been roommates for four years, comfortable in their routine and their relationship. But all of that is about to change.

kiss with a fist (is better than none) by orphan_account

Harry and Louis don't get on at all.

BUT they do, in fact, do an awful lot of getting off~

Harry startled visibly, shaking off his deer in the headlights look and huffing quietly. Louis took a final, lingering glance along his scant frame, except the puppy chub at his hips, and then kept washing his hands with a faint sneer. He expected words, biting and sarcastic, as usual. Instead, he was met with silence. Confused, Louis turned back to him as he dried his hands, ready with a scathing remark. It died on his tongue. Harry's eyes were locked, very deliberately, on his crotch. His crotch, which was still unzipped, and therefore dick on display. Oh fuck.

“My eyes are up here, Styles,” Louis growled, cheeks flushing despite himself as he reached to do up his fly.

“Leave it.” It rasped from Harry's throat, thick and shaky. Louis froze, fingers cupping himself.

“Excuse me?”

Sigh Softly by aalexandravictoriaa

It was an unconventional nest, to say the least. Quite inconvenient too, not that Louis would ever dare admit that. The fact that his omega was nesting could only mean that he was pregnant and Louis’ chest rumbled at the mere thought. Harry stirred from his perch, blinking his eyes open at the sound of his growling alpha. Louis shushed him immediately and tucked him back into the safety of his nest. Louis just so happened to make up the majority of said nest.

Do Not Falter (There's a Star Ahead) by LadyLondonderry

It's Christmas Eve, and every single one of Louis' family members are crowded inside his little flat. Really, what more could he ask for on his birthday?

The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.

a body wishes to be held & held by turnyourankle

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.”

the beast you made of me by orphan_account

The bell tinkled, and Harry froze as an overpowering scent, musky and thick, crisp and slightly sweet, yet utterly masculine, delightfully tickled his senses. Harry's eyes slowly slid up to see the source of this wonderful scent, and his breath was taken away at the sex god before him, all muscled and compact and utterly screaming of Alpha. Icy blue eyes stared him down, set off by sharp cheekbones, a stubbled jaw that looked yummy enough to nibble on, and caramel hair, which was lazily gelled, a few pieces falling over his forehead. His skin was tan, his hands strong and steady, his biceps still clearly visible even through his jacket. Every fiber of Harry's being stood at full alert.

The one where Harry's a vanilla-sweet Omega and Louis walks into his bakery one day.

How Much My Heart Depends by lululawrence

Louis is an alpha working as a fraud analyst who keeps having Bad Days. Harry is an omega working in Quality Support who shares a cubicle wall with Louis and only wants to help. Maybe this is the perfect chance for them to finally meet face to face.

A Tentative Peace by colourexplosion

“I dunno.” Harry’s not whining, he’s not. He pulls himself free, finally, turns away and busies himself again with the dishes. “I didn’t want it to be weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Louis says, appearing in Harry’s periphery when he leans against the sink. “Biology, innit? You know I’m always here for you.”

It stings. Louis won’t sit and have a conversation with Harry, but sure, he’ll fuck him through a heat like it’s nothing. “It’s a little more than biology,” he mumbles, but Louis either doesn’t hear him (not likely) or flat out ignores him (very likely).

(Or, A/B/O featuring omega!harry and alpha!louis.)

Seeing Blind by zedi

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

wanna taste your heart, don't interfere by orphan_account

Harry still remembers how unsure he felt when he first told Louis, how self-conscious he was. Louis had been nothing but understanding and kind, though, reassuring him that nothing’s going to change between them, that they’re still best friends regardless of sex. Harry had been mostly relieved at that, because he really doesn’t want to lose Louis as a friend over this, but another part of him had been a bit sad because… well, because nothing changed between them. Or rather, there is change, but it’s completely one-sided as far as Harry can tell.

This change being him not getting enough of the way Louis smells. He just can’t help it, is the thing, unable to stop himself from trying to subtly press his nose against the fabric of Louis’ shirt by his shoulders. He still smells like faint cologne and sweat, which is enough to make Harry start feeling slightly dizzy.

(harry presents as an omega, louis is his alpha best friend, and there are hidden feelings that just get harder to control.)

A Distant Hazy Light by green_feelings

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

London Calls Me a Stranger by Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry

"Hello, my beautiful, conceited coquette."

"Hi, daddy."

Or the one where Harry is a tease, and Louis is his new neighbour.

Between the Shadow and the Soul by orphan_account

“It’s just easier to stay in Donny and train, Haz,” Louis says quietly. “Two transatlantic flights in less than a week right before a big match is a terrible idea. We should have known that before, but...”

Harry nods. It’s reasonable. It’s totally, completely reasonable and Harry can support that. Another five or six days of not being able to hold Louis’ hand and kiss him sweetly is killing Harry, but he can handle it. “Okay, so that’s, what, the 20th that you’ll be coming over here?”

Louis hesitates, and Harry has to bite back a frustrated growl. “I’ve got writing sessions and time in the studio scheduled as of yesterday, plus I’m supposed to get papped clubbing in London again and just… it’s shit but there’s no time to make the trip until early May, at the least.”

Or, Harry and Louis spend a month apart.

Wonderland by jacaranda_bloom

Louis has always loved lazy mornings in bed with his mate, but now that his Omega is carrying their pup, they’ve reached a whole new level of wonderment.

OR the one where Louis loves to worship his Omega’s body and Harry loves to let him.

All I Needed by FallingLikeThis

Harry is the omega captain of the Slytherin quidditch team with a team that won't listen to him. Louis is the alpha captain of the Gryffindor team who doesn't know how to offer help without seeming like a knothead, pushing his opinions on Harry. When he comes up with a rather questionable plan to try and get Harry to ask him for help, they may just both get what they need.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

Put It Into Words by orphan_account

“It’s a good storm though, our families,” Louis says, flopping down on to the bed and cuddling close to Harry. He tucks his arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his temple. “The Cheshire house is perfect to raise the baby; your mum’s close, and my mum can stay in the guest bedroom when she visits.”

“And until then we have the long weekend to ourselves.”

Or, Harry and Louis go on a babymoon.

No Love Like Your Love by Rearviewdreamer

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.

We Are Inevitable by mmargarita

“What’s the second flaw?”

“The second inevitable flaw in your plan is:” Louis stood straight and walked towards Harry, grabbing his chin. Harry’s breath hitched. “Us.” Louis smiled. “We’re inevitable, baby. We’re soulmates, and we both know it. You just need to come back to me.” . . . 30/07/2020: This work has been edited and corrected, and now has 7k words more.

Take Me As I Am by lovelarry10

“Suppressant? But… why would I need a suppressant? Alphas don’t take suppressants.”

“You’re right, they don’t.”

****

Secrets. Lies. Deception. Betrayal. Self-discovery.

Alpha. Omega. How far will they go to hide the truth?

to wrap me in paper by juliusschmidt

Louis hasn't been keeping track of his ruts, but, it turns out, Harry has.

If you’ve made it to the end then congrats! and please stay safe and read the tags!!💕💕

273 notes · View notes

heartofether · 3 years ago

Text

Episode 13 - Dog with a Bone TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[INCREASINGLY SLOWLY] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. AGENTS MAY AND JUNES’ COMPANY VEHICLE, DRIVING INTO DAUGHTLER, WASHINGTON, MIDDAY.]

[THE TWO ARE HEARD DRIVING THROUGH THE TOWN.]

AGENT MAY

This is the audio log of Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Investigation taking place in Daughtler, Washington, 2019. Set to last for two months minimum. This is day one. Conducted by Agents May and June. All recordings are legal property of the Harper Foundation. Any unauthorized access to these recordings will result in—

AGENT JUNE

[OVERLAPPING] Does Daughtler know no God? That church is crumbling like a communion wafer!

AGENT MAY

Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

I’m just saying! You’d think for a place of worship, they’d take better care of it. Basic maintenance, maybe a new paint job.

AGENT MAY

Well, I guess the people of Daughtler aren’t particularly religious.

AGENT JUNE

Oh, not that I care. I’m an atheist. Raised in a Catholic household, which went about as well as—

AGENT MAY

Look, in the future, could you please avoid speaking over me when we’re recording important information?

AGENT JUNE

What important information? We just got here.

AGENT MAY

Well, if we’re going to be constantly on the record, I would like to maintain some level of professionalism.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh. Hate to break it to you, bud, but if you expect me to shut up for this whole mission, I think you will be greatly disappointed. I am, you see, constantly burdened by great ideas—trust me, it’s exhausting.

AGENT MAY

[SARCASTIC] I’m sure it is.

AGENT JUNE

[AFTER A BRIEF PAUSE, HE SNORTS A LAUGH.] DVD rentals? Dude, who’s renting DVDs in the digital era of pirating—I mean, uh, legally buying and streaming everything online?

AGENT MAY

[DEADPAN] Nice catch.

AGENT JUNE

Anyways, where are we heading first? I’m guessing the motel?

AGENT MAY

Actually, we’re going to make a quick detour. Stop somewhere for a quick interview.

AGENT JUNE

[HE GROANS.] Seriously, dude? We have so much time to do that kind of stuff. Can’t we just, you know, relax for our first day? Settle into Weird Town, USA?

AGENT MAY

I’d like to start this mission off on a good foot. It would be valuable to meet some of the residents, see what they’re like. Besides, this particular individual is important enough that by establishing a relationship early on, it may be beneficial in the long run.

AGENT JUNE

Ugh, fine. Who is our person of the hour, then?

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s less about the person and more about where they’re living.

[A BEAT.]

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, dude. Obviously. They’re living in Daughtler, Washington. You know, the place we’re investigating?

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING] I mean their house.

Agent June, please, please tell me you know who Bernard Kelly Valencia is.

AGENT JUNE

Obviously, dude! That’s like asking a chemistry student if they know what an electron is. [THEN, UNDER HIS BREATH] Actually, I failed chemistry, so maybe that isn’t the best analogy.

But yeah. Bernard Kelly Valencia. Super weird dude that the entire town was kinda freaked by. Supposedly was well-known among the Ether community for his vast range of research conducted with Dorothy Wood. Nobody actually knows where all that work went after he and Dorothy died, though.

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s possible some of it was left behind in his own house.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, seriously? Didn’t all of his belongings go to his son afterwards?

AGENT MAY

According to the original house plans, there’s an attic. His son, after leaving the house once and for all, never mentioned there being anything in the attic. This could mean it was just empty, but that fact would have to have been noted at some point. His son was thorough in his complaints about clearing his father’s house, from what we could find. It’s possible nobody ever even bothered to look up there.

AGENT JUNE

So you think he had something in his attic that just never got found?

AGENT MAY

That’s what the Foundation believes.

AGENT JUNE

Alrighty, then. That’s not too bad. We just break into a dead guy’s house and pillage through his attic. I mean, how hard can that be?

AGENT MAY

It’s not that simple. There’s a new tenant living there.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh, I see. Do you think they know?

AGENT MAY

Perhaps. There was a recent missing person report linked to the house—an inspector who the landlord sent out to investigate a supposed mold problem.

AGENT JUNE

Classic.

AGENT MAY

Which leads us to believe that the new tenant is at least familiar with Ether—assuming the mold problem was of supernatural origin, which is probable due to the house’s location and the report filed by the landlord describing the mold: yellow, with an odd scent.

AGENT JUNE

So, what’s our plan? Are we just going to go and ask to search the house?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, the Foundation couldn’t acquire a formal search warrant. We’ll have to convince the new tenant to let us in of their own free will.

AGENT JUNE

Who is this person, anyways?

AGENT MAY

Her name is Irene Gray. She’s twenty-one years old. Works as forestry aid.

AGENT JUNE

Do we know anything else about her?

AGENT MAY

Let’s just say the mold inspector isn’t the only missing persons case she’s connected to. Four years ago, an 18-year-old girl named Rosemary Quinn went missing. Officials think it’s likely she ran away. Irene Gray was Rosemary’s girlfriend. The police’s interview with Irene states that the two of them had planned on running away together not long after the date Rosemary had gone missing.

AGENT JUNE

Way to rat your girlfriend out like that.

AGENT MAY

She could have been desperate for any sort of lead, even if that meant getting herself and Rosemary in trouble. And she did get in trouble, I believe, though not with the law, per say. Irene couldn’t have known where Rosemary had gone, though. She was so emotionally devastated after the event, there was little chance she was faking it or lying to cover for Rosemary. She actually started therapy not long after.

AGENT JUNE

So, why does it matter? Did they ever find Rosemary?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, no. The official record states that the last place she was potentially seen was a local animal shelter, where she dropped off her cat, whose name she said was Sage. This, however, does not sync up with reports from her family claiming the cat’s name was Sir Griffin the Third, which led to some uncertainty. They had a difficult time tracking her after that, though. All they had to go off of was one potential gas station siting, but all that resulted in was another dead end.

AGENT JUNE

Uh, you still haven’t explained why any of this matters.

AGENT MAY

[FRUSTRATED] Could you just be patient for one— [HE HUFFS A SIGH.]

Look, it’s important because it’s unlikely Irene Gray will let us explore her house if we just ask nicely.

AGENT JUNE

So, we have to use bait?

AGENT MAY

It could be a mutually beneficial relationship, is what I’m saying. We both have something the other wants.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, does the Foundation, like, know what happened to that girl?

AGENT MAY

Not quite, but, potentially. I’ll show you what we have once we stop the car.

AGENT JUNE

Great! This should be interesting.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] I’m sure it will be.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[INT. IRENE GRAY’S HOUSE, MIDDAY.]

[IRENE IS ON A PHONE CALL WITH ADEN. ON HIS END OF THE LINE, THERE IS THE LOOPING SOUND OF A BROKEN FAX MACHINE ATTEMPTING, BUT FAILING, TO PROCESS PAPER.]

IRENE

It’s a fax machine. How do you not know how to use a fax machine? I’ve literally watched you do it before.

ADEN

Well, I thought I knew! And I mean, come on, how come you get to judge me when you can’t even use your phone properly?

IRENE

Oh, my god—Aden, it’s my day off. Can’t you just look it up?

ADEN

I don’t know how to describe the problem in a way a search engine will understand. It’s too—you know—specific.

IRENE

Ask someone there, then. Carol and Julia probably know better than I do.

ADEN

Julia’s sick, and Carol’s on some important phone call. Look, I just—if we have to replace this thing and it’s my fault, I’m going to freak out—

IRENE

Okay, wait until Carol gets off the phone and then—

ADEN

[WORRIED] What if it sets on fire or something?

IRENE

[FRUSTRATED] It won’t! It’s probably just jammed.

ADEN

But what if it does?

IRENE

[SNAPPING] Jeez, dude, just go find the manual! Why are you calling me?

ADEN

[PANICKED, STUTTERING] Because I’m panicking, alright? Look, ever, ever since the mold incident, I’ve been so scared constantly of everything. Every tiny thing that happens feels like it’s the end of the world, especially because that dude’s van went missing and it’s like you guys are just constantly waiting for the police to just show up at your door—

IRENE

[HER TONE SOFTENS, GROWING SYMPATHETIC] Oh, Aden—

ADEN

[CONT.] —and you and Carol almost died, and I did nothing. Okay? I sat in my office and talked to the knitted cat on my desk while I had a panic attack and did nothing.

I just want to find some way to, to do good, to fix something, but instead I think I ruined the fax machine and now I’m just failing you and Carol, again.

IRENE

[CHOOSING HER WORDS CAREFULLY] Hey. Look, I—I’m sorry I snapped. It’s not…it’s not that big of a deal.

ADEN

[COMING DOWN, GUILTILY] No, no, you’re right. I shouldn’t have called you on your day off.

IRENE

It’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it. Do you need me to go down there and look at it?

ADEN

No, don’t. I’m kinda starting to calm down, and I think if I can’t find the manual, I’ll just wait until Carol gets off the phone.

IRENE

That’s a good idea.

[A BEAT.] Um, if you need a distraction or anything, we can still talk for a bit. I know how anxiety can be.

ADEN

[SINCERE] That means a lot, Irene. Thank you.

IRENE

Of course.

Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?

ADEN

[A BEAT, THEN, HESITANT] I actually have a question. I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, but if it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.

IRENE

I mean, I think you’ve already seen me at some pretty low points, so…

ADEN

[HE CHUCKLES.] Alright.

[CAREFULLY] You said you had a girlfriend who went missing.

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yup.

ADEN

What was her name?

IRENE

[A HESITANT BEAT.] Rose. Er, you may have seen the name Rosemary Quinn at some point, but it was years ago.

ADEN

Yeah, I don’t remember. Sorry.

IRENE

It’s fine.

ADEN

What happened to her?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

IRENE

[GRIM] We never found out.

For a long time, I’ve thought that she just decided she was sick of her life as it was. Ran away to start a new one without telling anyone where she went. It would have made sense—she had planned on doing it for a while. Even took cash from her savings out in chunks so nobody would be able to track her card when she did. Her mother simply wrote this off as poorly thought-out impulse purchases.

We had planned our entire future together, though, and for her to just throw it out didn’t make sense, it—well… [SHE TRAILS OFF.]

ADEN

I’m sorry.

IRENE

I thought it was her mom at first, though. Grace Quinn. [SHE SAYS THE NAME WITH VENOM.]

They investigated Grace for domestic abuse. Believed Rose ran away to escape a dangerous situation. Upon Rose not answering her bedroom door, Grace, well…broke it down. Rose had locked it before she went out the window, and her mother just—decimated the doorknob to get in. At least, that’s what the police report says.

ADEN

Jeez.

IRENE

Without the child there, however, it was difficult to prove any abuse. I had some texts. Her aunts had a couple of anecdotes. That was all, though. Grace refused to admit to anything, of course.

ADEN

[HESITANT] Was there? Um, was there abuse?

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yeah.

ADEN

I’m so sorry.

IRENE

It was rarely ever physical, but it definitely happened.

ADEN

I mean, if Rose was trying to escape something, I hope she was safe in the end.

IRENE

[PAUSE, THEN, SOFTLY, ALMOST SAD] I do, too.

[A BEAT.] That wasn’t all, though. Grace acted really strange afterwards. When police asked what had happened the night before, she said she couldn’t remember. Seriously, she didn’t have any concrete details. She said she had just woken up that morning and Rose was gone, but her story kept changing in little ways. It was disorienting.

She seemed…paranoid. Jumpy. Confused, even. Angry, but her anger wasn’t directed anywhere. I might have felt bad for her if just the thought of her hadn’t made my blood boil. I mean, I imagine your daughter going missing has gotta have some sort of effect on you, even if you’re not on good terms with her.

Grace wasn’t entirely there, though. Looking back, it’s a lot more clear. I…know some things, I didn’t know back then. I just, I wonder what was really wrong with her. I haven’t talked to her in years. Certainly not about to start now.

ADEN

I mean, I kinda sympathize with her, but also, she doesn’t sound like a great person.

IRENE

Oh no, she’s horrible. I know I should feel some remorse for all the awful things I’ve said about her, but I don’t. Not really.

When Rose first went missing, I became blinded by rage. I screamed at Grace when I saw her. Cursed in her face. Said it was all her fault, because I was—well, I was scared, and I had no other explanation. My dad had to drag me away before I attacked her.

ADEN

Jeez, Irene.

IRENE

I’m obviously better about my anger management now. Therapy at least did that for me.

ADEN

I mean, I get it. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.

IRENE

Yeah. Um, yeah. [IT SOUNDS LIKE THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE SHE WANTS TO SAY.]

Thanks, Aden.

ADEN

Of course. If you…I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you can always talk to me about it. I’ve said that before, but, y’know.

IRENE

I appreciate it.

[A PAUSE.]

ADEN

I think Carol’s call ended.

IRENE

[TEASING] And did the fax machine catch on fire?

ADEN

[HE LAUGHS.] No. No, it did not.

[IRENE LAUGHS. ANOTHER PAUSE.]

IRENE

[MORE SERIOUS] Aden?

ADEN

Yeah?

IRENE

I’m…I’m working on something. It’s a personal project.

ADEN

[CAUGHT OFF GUARD] Oh. Okay.

IRENE

I don’t think I can tell you what it’s about, but…just so you know. I mean, I trust you, so.

ADEN

That’s—um, that’s fine. Uh, let me know if I can help at all?

IRENE

Sure. I’ll talk to you later.

[AS THEY SPEAK, THERE’S APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS ON ADEN’S END OF THE LINE.]

ADEN

You, too. Thank you again for talking.

IRENE

Not a problem. Bye.

ADEN

Talk to you soon!

CAROL

[IN THE DISTANCE] What did you do to the damn—?

[PHONE BEEP AS ADEN HANGS UP. IRENE SIGHS.]

IRENE

[CONFUSED] Oh, uh. Didn’t realize my phone was recording. [MUTTERS] When did that start? Guess I turned it on at some point.

[A BEAT.] Well, Rose. I’m talking to you now. Not just some figment of you in my head, but, you.

I know you’re going to hear these. I don’t know when, but you will. Of course you will.

[A BEAT.] Only problem is, I’m kind of at a dead end. My only lead so far is a mysterious recording that popped up on my laptop with no explanation. I have no idea how any of those files got there. Do I just have to wait until whatever weird force that gives them to me decides to throw one my way?

It’s like gambling at that point. I don’t know when I’ll get something or if what I find will be helpful or not. I mean, hell, I could get a new file on my computer and it’ll just be some voicemail I sent you sophomore year about baking brownies. Who knows what I’ll find or when I’ll find it?

I have to figure out something more reliable. Maybe figure out where the recordings are coming from, and if I can use whatever it is to my advantage. Or, I don’t know, Phoebe is coming over at some point to look in my attic. Maybe I should just—

[THERE’S A KNOCK AT THE FRONT DOOR.]

IRENE

…huh. Wasn’t expecting anyone.

[IRENE IS HEARD GETTING UP AND WALKING TOWARDS THE DOOR. AS SHE APPROACHES, THE AGENT'S MUFFLED ARGUING IS HEARD, GROWING LOUDER AS SHE GROWS NEAR.]

AGENT JUNE

[MUFFLED] I'm just saying, it could be pretty cool, you know? I'm all like, "Ooh, ahh, no, tell us what we wanna know, and you're like—"

AGENT MAY

[MUFFLED, OVERLAPPING ] June, you're too impressionable by all of these movies that you watch.

[IRENE OPENS THE DOOR, BUT THEY CONTINUE AS IF SHE ISN'T THERE.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] No, no, listen. It could be great, it could be great! We could like, stand back to back, and like, ooh, finger guns—

AGENT MAY

No, I'm not doing finger guns!

IRENE

[OVERLAPPING] Um, can I help you?

AGENT JUNE

[TO AGENT MAY] Okay, but just try it—

AGENT MAY

[HARSHLY CUTTING HIM OFF.] Yes, actually. Is this the residence of Irene Gray?

IRENE

[SKEPTICAL] Who’s asking?

[AGENT MAY IS HEARD FLASHING HIS BADGE.]

AGENT MAY

We’re Agents May and June of The Harper Foundation. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.

IRENE

The hell is that?

AGENT JUNE

Ah, see, that’s the point: you’re not supposed to know. [A BEAT.] I mean, well, we do leave kind of cryptic ads in the local paper sometimes, but, still.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

What? I don’t choose to put those weird ads there!

IRENE

[UNIMPRESSED] …so, what, you’re secret agents?

AGENT MAY

If you’d like to call us that. May we come in?

IRENE

Why?

AGENT MAY

We just need to ask you about a few things. I promise it won’t be long.

IRENE

…are you going to, what, search my house?

AGENT JUNE

You got something to hide?

IRENE

[DEFENSIVE] No! I’m sorry that I value my privacy.

AGENT MAY

We’re not searching your house right now. This will be much easier for all of us if you comply, Ms. Gray.

IRENE

[SHE THINKS FOR A MOMENT, THEN, DISGRUNTLED] Fine.

AGENT MAY

Thank you.

[IRENE IS HEARD LEADING THE AGENTS INTO HER HOUSE, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND THEM. THEIR FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD AS THEY ENTER.]

AGENT JUNE

It’s a nice place you got here. Oh, wow, did you paint that yourself?

IRENE

It was a gift.

AGENT JUNE

Ah, gotcha, gotcha.

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS THEY STOP WALKING.]

IRENE

Well? Take a seat. Be my guest.

[AGENTS MAY AND JUNE ARE HEARD SITTING AT THE TABLE. THERE ARE TWO LOUD THUNKING NOISES, AS IF SOMEONE IS HITTING THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

Agent June, take your feet off the table.

AGENT JUNE

Sorry, sorry.

[SHUFFLING NOISES AS AGENT JUNE MOVES HIS FEET.]

IRENE

Can I get you both anything to drink?

AGENT JUNE

There are your manners!

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] You’re one to talk.

AGENT JUNE

Whatcha got?

IRENE

Um, water? I could make coffee? I also have lemonade in the fridge, but that’s for emergencies.

[A PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

I think I’m in the mood for an emergency lemonade. You, Agent May?

AGENT MAY

I’m fine, thanks.

[AS THEY CONTINUE THE CONVERSATION, IRENE IS HEARD GRABBING THE LEMONADE OUT OF THE FRIDGE, TAKING A GLASS FROM THE CUPBOARD, AND POURING JUNE'S DRINK.]

AGENT MAY

How long have you lived here, Ms. Gray?

IRENE

Not long. I moved here for work.

AGENT MAY

And what do you do?

IRENE

[HASTILY] I’m an engineer.

AGENT JUNE

Mm! Enjoying the area so far?

IRENE

It’s nice. The people are friendly.

[SHE SETS AGENT JUNE’S LEMONADE DOWN ON THE TABLE.]

AGENT JUNE

Much obliged.

[HE TAKES A DRINK LOUDLY. IRENE SITS DOWN ACROSS FROM THE TWO OF THEM.]

IRENE

…well? You said you had questions.

AGENT MAY

We’re here to ask you about a missing person.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

IRENE

Which one?

AGENT MAY

Which one are you thinking of?

IRENE

[SHE PAUSES.] Are you talking about Rosemary Quinn?

AGENT MAY

[A TENTATIVE PAUSE.] You and Rosemary were close, correct?

IRENE

Why do you care?

AGENT MAY

I’m asking a question. An answer would be nice.

IRENE

[HESITANT] I knew Rose, yeah.

AGENT MAY

When was the last time you saw her?

IRENE

Um, it was two days before her disappearance, I believe?

Look, this should all be on her file. I don’t see the need to recount this all to you unless they’ve opened the case again. Hell, you’re not even cops, are you?

AGENT JUNE

Oh, don’t be that way, Irene. I know this case isn’t as recent as the other one you’re involved with, but you should be able to remember, right?

IRENE

The—

[THERE'S A LOW, EERIE INSTRUMENTAL AS IRENE'S BLOOD RUNS COLD.]

IRENE

[BLUFFING] What other case?

[AGENT MAY SLIDES A PIECE OF PAPER ACROSS THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

You were the last person to see this man, correct?

IRENE

I, um, I don’t know him, no.

AGENT JUNE

You’re not as good at lying as you think you are, you know.

[HE'S HEARD FLIPPING OVER A PIECE OF PAPER TO EXAMINE IT.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] I mean, why lie to us about your job, anyways? There’s no shame in being a forestry aid. I’m sure it’s a lovely profession.

IRENE

Who the hell are you people?

AGENT MAY

Relax, Irene. The Harper Foundation has already taken care of his vehicle and rerouted the case so it doesn’t trace back to you. Investigators will come up with a dead-end soon enough, and nobody will know what you did.

AGENT JUNE

You’re welcome for that.

IRENE

I— [THEN, GUILTILY] I didn’t kill him.

AGENT MAY

I’m sure you didn’t. That’s not important right now. We’re just trying to give you a nudge in the right direction so maybe then you’ll be inclined to tell us the truth.

IRENE

Why? What do you want from me?

AGENT MAY

If you’d give me a moment to speak, then I can explain.

[IRENE HUFFS A SIGH, BUT LETS AGENT MAY SPEAK. HE FLIPS OPEN A FOLDER.]

AGENT MAY

Are you aware of this house’s previous tenant?

IRENE

You mean Bernard Kelly Valencia? His reputation precedes him, but I never knew the guy.

AGENT MAY

That’s correct. We believe he left something behind after he died, however. Something that could be incredibly beneficial for the Foundation. Have you found anything like that?

[IRENE STAYS SILENT.]

AGENT JUNE

[WHISPERS TO AGENT MAY] I think she’s trying to plead the fifth.

AGENT MAY

We expected such stubbornness. We’re not asking you for this for free, you know. We believe we may also have something that would be beneficial for you.

IRENE

And, what is that, exactly?

AGENT MAY

I’m glad you asked.

[HE'S HEARD HANDING A PAPER TO IRENE. MYSTERIOUS MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.]

AGENT MAY

Sometime in July, the same year Rosemary Quinn disappeared, a dusty yellow bicycle was found in the middle of nowhere in Oregon. It appeared to have had a broken piece in the front where a basket was supposed to be attached. It was never brought to the police, so unfortunately, it could never be examined as possible evidence.

AGENT JUNE

Hiker who found it posted about it on Twitter, though. The guy didn’t have many followers, so it never got traction.

AGENT MAY

This photo was taken not too far from Bent. If this is Rosemary’s bicycle, it could mean that we have a possible travel path for her after her disappearance.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Oh, that was quite the shift in your expression, Irene. Have we struck a nerve? [MELODRAMATIC] I guess young love tends to leave such sore, open wounds, doesn’t it?

AGENT MAY

If you let us look at whatever it is Mr. Valencia left behind, we can help you find Rosemary Quinn. It may take some time, but we believe we can determine what happened to her. We just need your help.

[THE MUSIC STOPS. THERE'S A LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

Get out.

[SHE'S HEARD GETTING OUT OF HER CHAIR.]

AGENT JUNE

Wh—hey!

IRENE

[GROWING MORE UPSET] Get out, I said. Get out!

[AS SHE SPEAKS, SHE'S HEARD PHYSICALLY GRABBING THE AGENTS AND PUSHING THEM OUT OF HER HOUSE. WHILE SHE'S AT IT, SHE GRABS THEIR FOLDERS AS WELL, THOUGH ONE PAPER STAYS BEHIND.]

AGENT JUNE

Hey, no, stop! You can't just grab our things like that! Please.

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING, STUTTERING] Hey—!

[BOTH AGENTS STUMBLE OUTSIDE. IRENE IS HEARD THROWING THEIR PAPERS OUT THE DOOR.]

AGENT JUNE

Woah!

AGENT MAY

That's confidential information, you can't keep that in your house—

[SHE CUTS HIM OFF BY SLAMMING THE DOOR. THERE'S A PAUSE AS SHE BEGINS PACING THE FLOOR.]

IRENE

Who the hell do they think they are? Do they think I’m just some sort of—some sort of tool for them to use? Do they think they can dangle Rose over my head like I’m a dog with a bone, all over some—

[SHE PICKS THE PICTURE UP OFF THE TABLE, STOPPING HER PACING]

IRENE

Some picture of a bicycle?

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS IRENE STARES AT THE PHOTO, BEGINNING TO CALM DOWN.]

IRENE

[CAUTIOUS HOPE.] Is this really your bike, Rose? Why would you tear the basket off? You loved that basket. [WANDERING INTO DAYDREAM TERRITORY] You’d put flowers I got you in it and then ride around your block. Said it made you feel like you were in a painting.

[A BEAT.] Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked them—

[THERE’S ANOTHER KNOCK AT THE DOOR. IRENE STORMS BACK OVER TO IT.]

IRENE

[YELLING] I told you to get out! I’m not some stupid—

[SHE OPENS THE DOOR, AND REALIZES IT'S NOT THE AGENTS.]

IRENE

[EMBARRASSED] …dog.

TEEN

Well, I sure hope you’re not.

IRENE

[AWKWARDLY] Um, hi. Sorry, it’s just, someone else was just over and—

TEEN

Those two dudes? Yeah, they didn’t look very happy. That one guy, the one who had his tie undone for some reason, he had to chase one of the papers down the street. It was really funny.

IRENE

You were watching?

TEEN

Well, I didn’t realize you had a line going out your door of people waiting to talk to you.

IRENE

[DEADPAN] I’m new to the famous life.

TEEN

You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.

IRENE

Well, are you here to interview me and talk about my darkest secrets?

TEEN

That would be cool, wouldn’t it?

IRENE

[DISGRUNTLED] Not after the day I’ve had.

TEEN

Well, you see, I’ve actually been dying to meet you. My mom told me about you, said she met you at the store. I don’t know if you remember her, but from what she told me, it sounds like maybe you could use a bit of help.

IRENE

Your m— [IN SHOCKED AWE] Oh my god, are you the meat lady’s kid?

AVERY

Actually, my name is Avery.

Wanna grab lunch sometime?

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "Most of the people are homesick anyway, and a little lonely, and they hide themselves in their hair and are turned into flowers."

Tove Jansson in Sculptor's Daughter, 1968.

[A PAUSE AS A HOLLOW NOISE BEGINS TO GROW IN THE BACKGROUND, FOLLOWED BY STATIC.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[SLOWLY, AS IF STRAINED] Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can feel it—

[THE VOICE IS CUT OFF BY STATIC.]

[OUTRO MUSIC & CREDITS PLAY.]

[AN EXTENDED PIANO VERSION OF THE NIGHT POST’S OPENING THEME PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND.]

NIGHT POST PROMO

Hello there, citizen. You’ve lived in Gilt City for a while now. Maybe you’ve wondered, when you wake in the morning and retrieve the letters tucked neatly into your postbox, just where your mail comes from. It comes from the Night Post, of course. Those faithful couriers deliver it while you’re sleeping--all the better that they stay out of sight, and keep the unseemly strangeness that follows them out of our city, in the Skelter, where it belongs.

Ahem. If, for some reason, you’d like to know more about Gilt City’s conscripted couriers and the burden that chose them, their secret hopes and fears, the ancient, untamed threats that hound them on their nocturnal journeys--you have only to listen. The Night Post is a supernatural audio drama by an all-LGBT team, delivered weekly, in dead of night, to wherever you listen to podcasts.

Find answers at nightpostpod.com.

#heart of ether transcripts

5 notes · View notes

jyvurentropyblog · 4 years ago

Text

How To Choose a POV?

One of my writer friends asked me to write something about POV. She didn’t have a specific question, but basically asked if I might cover the different types of POVs and which ones work better in certain circumstances.

Well, like I told her, this is going to be a VERY biased post. I am incredibly partial to third limited. I choose third limited almost every story I write.

Let me start by explaining the different POVs.

First Person: Uses the pronoun I

“I went to the store.”

Second Person: Uses the pronoun You

“First you need to go to the store, get some eggs and vanilla extract.”

Second person is rare in fiction. It is most often used in non-fiction books that include instructions, or recipes, or other how-to guides.

Every once in awhile, a writer will be really artsy-fartsy and use second person in fiction.

Second person in fiction would look like this:

“You go to the store. You see a long line of people. You sigh and shuffle down the aisle.”

One notable example of second person in non-artsy-fartsy fiction would be the choose your own adventure books.

Third Person: Uses third-person pronouns such as “She/He/They/Ze/etc

“Ze went to the store.”

But within third-person you have two options:

Third Limited or Third Omniscient

With third limited, readers are privy to the thoughts and feelings of only one character per chapter or scene. A story can still have multiple POVs, but within a scene or chapter, the POV remains only with one character.

In my novel ‘Desire and Destruction’, I alternate POVs every other chapter. So it goes one chapter in Cole’s POV and one chapter in Ingrid’s POV. When we’re in a Cole chapter, we can see what Ingrid does, but not what she thinks or feels. We can not see into her head. And the reverse is true when we’re in an Ingrid chapter.

With third omniscient, there is a god-like narrator who is looking into the minds of ALL the characters. This narrator is often somewhat detached and may look down on certain characters and praise other characters. Basically, it isn’t that deep-third that we get with third-limited. The narrator often has their own personality and way of viewing the characters. Within any scene, the narrator can relate the thoughts, feelings, or backstory of any character.

I do not recommend third omniscient. As I covered in my last post, very few people have the skill to know when to use it AND how to pull it off effectively. Most stories are not enhanced by third omniscient. I’m not saying you should never use it, but don’t jump in and give it a whirl just because a lot of the old classics use this style.

Remember the time period that was hard AF for third-limited also experimented with narrative style to the point that Frankenstein is told via letters by someone who has nothing to do with the story and just happened to meet Dr. Frankenstein out in the wilderness. It’s a summary of a summary. Wuthering Heights is told exclusively in conversations between the housekeeper and a tenant, neither of whom are main characters. Look.....the classics of the Romantic and Victorian era were....on some real other shit. Writing like the classics isn’t always a solid plan.

So that’s my extreme cautioning against third omniscient. I just don’t think it adds anything to most stories and is far too likely to jar or confuse readers and come across as head-hopping.

But third-limited on the other hand....

I ADORE third-limited. Let me explain why I like it.

You get all the perks of first person AND all the perks of third-person. You can be somewhat detached, but you still get a front row seat to the thoughts and feelings of one character at a time. When you really pull off a nice deep-third, you’re fully immersed in the character’s inner world, but there’s still a bit of a buffer. You still aren’t writing AS the character.

Here is a section of my book ‘Combustion’ in third-limited where I was going for deep-third.

~The flame birthed itself at the end of the match. It danced, red and orange, against the backdrop of the still night. Rachel opened her mouth as wide as she could, until the corners of her lips were stretched as far as they would go. She made sure that her mouth was a wide, round circle. Just like the man on fire. Probably just like Mary Reeser had done. She was going to spontaneously combust. She would do it now.

And she could stop waiting for it to happen. She was never going to have to be afraid of it happening again. It was all about to be over. Rachel watched the flame slide down lower, burning away at the wood of the match. It was going to reach her hand soon, so she had to do this fast. Spontaneous Human Combustion started inside the body.

Rachel understood why the man on fire had his mouth wide open.

There wasn't any time left.

Rachel took the match and placed it into her open mouth.~

It’s in third-person, but it’s still written in a way where we can feel her fear, her confusion, her dissociation. We can see her reasoning. Of course, her reasoning is flawed. She should not be trying to make herself spontaneously combust JUST so that she can stop being afraid of it happening.

So how do you know if you should choose third-limited or first? (because third omniscient and second person should rarely be used). Well, I’m biased, and I believe third-limited works well for most stories.

That being said, I have chosen first person for two of my stories. One is my now shelved manuscript ‘Femcel’ which I will eventually be rewriting and it will be retitled ‘Pick Me.’ The other is my collab story with Emily Hurricane ‘When The Darkness Takes Us.’

For ‘When The Darkness Takes Us’ I had a very specific reason for choosing first person. This character is a self-insert. It’s a fictionalized account of something very difficult I went through semi-recently.

So I suppose I’d say, when it’s a really emotional story with strong voice, first person may be a better choice. When it’s a very personal story, first person may be a better choice. When you’re writing a character who rants and raves and switches gears mid-thought-stream so quickly that a third-person narrator wouldn’t do it justice-it would only slow the stream-of-consiousness down.

I also chose first person for my book ‘Femcel’ which is not currently online, because I need to make some changes to it.

Here is an excerpt from ‘Femcel.’

~If every single day was a day off from work with Sailor Moon dvds and an entire pickle pizza all to myself, well, then I think life would be a-okay. Today has been great. I cleaned my room and then I pulled out my trusty Sailor Moon box set. Auntie and Mom-mom are both at work, so nobody to bug me about what I'm eating. I ordered a large pizza and I got the owner on the phone when the new guy didn't understand that they can put pickles on a pizza. It isn't on the menu, but they do it for me all the time.

I told him, "You charge me for a pepperoni pizza and tell the guy cooking it to put on pickles. Ask Jim. He always does it." But the guy still thought I was full of it.

Eventually they sorted it out though. And yeah, I know it's bad to eat an entire large pizza myself. Don't go thinking I'm a total pig. I only eat like this when I watch anime.

Usually I don't eat enough. Mom-mom says I'm too thin and she isn't wrong. If I lay on my stomach too long at night, my ribs start to hurt. I'm the only woman in my family with a stick body. Everybody else has nice curves. I barely have boobs and my butt is flat. I tried doing squats for awhile, but when nothing much happened, I figured it was probably all nonsense. You know? A placebo.

It's only four in the afternoon, but already it's getting dark. I hate winter. Especially once Christmas is over. I feel so upset and anxious every day in that long dead span of winter, January through March, when there's nothing to look forward to and it feels like the world just dead ass stopped. Sludge in every parking lot. Everything is cold and wet. Kek. And it's the middle of January. Top kek. (I mean that sarcastically. Obviously).~

I chose first for Ana’s story, because I imagined her as this very voicey character with this sweet and sarcastic personality. She’s also incredibly immature (which does make sense since she’s in her very early 20s) and I felt that youth and naiveté would across more strongly in first person.

So....what’s the hard and fast rule for deciding between third-limited and first?

I....uh....

I wish I could tell you lol

Like my last post about balancing dialogue with other storytelling elements, I have to say, I just play it by ear.

I will say, I think every writer should figure out early on which POV they prefer to write in. Try them all out. Try writing the same scenes in first and third and see which one you like better.

I did this while I was getting my B.A in Creative Writing and after several rounds of playing with third-limited and first, I discovered I’m incredibly partial to third-limited.

That doesn’t mean there isn’t any room for first. Like I said, I realized first was the better choice for two of my WIPs. But knowing that third-limited is my default style, I always have a starting point. I start most stories in third-limited and it’s only when third-limited starts to feel....well...limiting that I give first a whirl.

In the end, it’s about what YOU as the writer are most comfortable with. Some people say it depends on the story you want to tell, and I agree to an extent, but at the same time, if you hate writing in first person and you try to force it, the story may suffer for it. For years, I wrote exclusively in third-limited before I was comfortable enough to test out first person.

Third-limited and first both accomplish different things. First person has more voice and immediacy, while third-person allows a writer to be more poetic and detached.

Which POV do you like best? When you experiment with both POVs, which allows your story to come to life more?

There’s no real rule of thumb.

Like everything with writing, it’s all a matter of intuition; following your gut and looking at every story as a unique experience.

I know that was wishy-washy, but it’s the best I can do while still being honest!

There just aren’t any true absolutes with writing.

Good luck fellow writers <3

#writingadvice #writing #pov #second person pov #first person pov #thirdperson #thirdlimited #omniscient reader's viewpoint #self-insert #femcels

14 notes · View notes

themilky-way · 5 years ago

Text

paris {s.r}

gif credit: sincerelycalum on tumblr

pairing: spencer reid x female! reader

summary: while working on a case in paris, you and spencer realize that there may be more to your friendship than you think. how long until the city of love casts a spell on you? based on this song.

warnings: none i think it’s just fluff (like everything I write lol)

author’s note: this long af bc this was supposed to be a series and this would’ve been the second part but the first one i posted didn’t do well lmao. so instead, just enjoy this one shot and maybe i’ll post the first one again if u guys want but idk. also we a lil bold in this fic bc we love confident queens

grabbing your go bag and cell phone from the charging port, you quickly made your way to the jet that was already waiting for departure. the team was ready to make their way to paris, france on a case for a serial killer that migrated from california. it had been difficult for everyone, considering the unsub wasn’t leaving much evidence.

despite it being for work, you and the team were excited to explore one of the most beautiful cities in the world. if you thought about it, it was kind of like killing two birds with one stone: the opportunity to finally catch a gruesome killer and a vacation. morgan was practically shaking with anticipation as he kept getting up from his seat and bothering garcia every five minutes and then going back.

“just think about it, baby, all the smokin’ hot people we’re gonna meet. I mean, it’s called the “city of love” for a reason!” derek rambled to penelope as she typed away rapidly on her computer.

“this isn’t a vacation, sugar, but yes I’m aware of all the potential babes we might encounter. and for that, I prepared another bag,” she giggled as derek started to laugh along with her. he raised his hand to high five her and she lifted hers too, lightly patting it.

“oh you’re bad bad aren’t you,” he laughed, and they both continued to talk too rapidly for the others to understand. meanwhile, you had grabbed your seat next to emily and right across from you was spencer. you and emily were talking about god knows what, the range going from guessing the types of desserts paris had to perhaps renting a motorcycle for your stay. the banter between the both of you was endless, and you even started watching a french movie to get some pointers on the language.

between the jokes and wondering remarks, you didn’t really notice that spencer was observing you the whole time. sure, he could play it off as if he were judging both of his coworkers for their lack of knowledge on french culture and linguistics, but he wasn’t really doing that, was he? no, in fact, he was watching you in such depth, the way he’d look at the pages of a book, and taking in every aspect that you had to present. he was, in the most simplest way it can be described as, mesmerized.

the day spencer realized that he looked at you this way shocked him. to be completely honest, it scared the hell out of him. he never pictured you as anything more than a friend, and he always thought you were too relaxed for a job like this. he told himself that he’d leave the matter alone, that their would be no thinking or second-guessing of any kind. but the second he’d lay his eyes on you, it’s like the rules he made up never quite existed. however, the more he looked back on it, there was one question that urged this matter forward: am I gonna find out why?

he shook out of his deep concentration to look up at the voice that was now speaking to him. his eyes focused again and he stared at you confused.

“reid, you okay? you’re spacing out on me, buddy,” you said, head turned slightly from the position you were seated in. you had shifted in your seat to face emily, your left leg bent on the cushion and your right giving you stability on the ground.

“sorry, I was busy thinking.”

“well, try not to use that big ol’ brain of yours too much yet, we’re gonna need it when we land,” you said, giving him a small wink. he gave you a small smile while a tiny smear of rose-colored blush crept its way onto his cheeks. it was a friendly gesture; everyone on the team did it so you thought, “why the hell not?”

reid opted to read a little bit while on the plane so that he could get in some new interrogating tactics for when they met the unsub. you and emily continued to watch french movies and spot all of the hot actors and actresses you thought would be fake, penny and morgan, well they were on a whole different level of fun. the only ones quiet and doing some work was hotch, jj, and rossi.

the plane slowly began to descend, butterflies erupting in your stomach from the fall, before the captain announced, “we are now ready to descend and are getting ready for arrival.”

when the captain finished, hotch began, “alright, listen up, team. the location of this case was by chance and we shouldn’t get distracted by anything or anyone. do your job quickly and efficiently as you’ve always had.” he spoke sternly, his shoulders were straight and his face emotionless and heavy with sleep. to any other person, hotch would be a zombie who helped solve murder cases, but to the bau team, he was their leader and they admired him.

“oh, come on, hotch! if we work extra hard these few days and have enough time by the end of the wee-” you began before getting cut off.

“yes, we can stay a while and explore the city. the unsub and the evidence altogether looks promising, so hopefully we can wrap it up quick. but don’t stray from your path in the meantime.”

everybody nodded and “yes, sir’d” before standing up and grabbing their luggage from the compartments at the top of their seats. everyone walked out in pairs and headed for the taxi cars that were waiting for them. you took emily, morgan took reid, jj and penelope partnered up, and of of course rossi and hotchner stuck together. at different paces, the team agreed at a nearby hotel closest to the paris police department that had called them. getting your bags in the car, along with the rest of the girls’, you made your way to the hotel to check in and drop your luggage off.

at first glance, it looked like a simple building; a cream color adorning the walls and some very intricate, sophisticated street lamps aligned on the perimeter of the parking entrance. before entering, there was a sort of roundabout you had to pass in order to reach to valet parking, and in the center of the roundabout, was a water fountain. it was simple, yes, but to parisians only. to outsiders, like the bau, it was already quite elegant. the ladies, including you, pitched in a little to pay for the ride and once you got out, there was a young man who offered to take your bags inside.

“avez-vous besoin d'aide, madame?” the boy said. all of you looked at each other a little confused because even though you thought it might’ve helped, watching french movies for nine hours with emily wasn’t doing it.

“he’s asking if you need help with these. here,” penny clarified before putting her tiny hello kitty handbag in yours, “let me handle it.”

she walked up to the somewhat tall boy, looked him over once, and said in the thickest french accent there was, “oui je fais mon doux muffin merci beaucoup.” she did a tiny hair flip to her blonde curls and came back to where the rest of you were standing.

“penny, uh, what exactly did you tell that boy?” emily said, stifling down a small giggle.

“nothing, i just said “yes” that I needed help and “thank you very much.”

“no, no, the other part. there must’ve been another part to it. tell us!” jj said, grabbing penelope by the shoulders and shaking them lightly.

“what other part?”

“the one where you made a boy dressed in victorian era clothing blush like a maniac over some luggage,” you laughed. to this, garcia started to laugh too and then even harder. you and the rest of the girls had puzzled grins on their faces, but the inkling of seeing your friend laugh so hard was reaching your guys’ throats too.

when she finally caught a breath to speak, she said, “I called him my sweet muffin!” at this, you and the girls broke into heaves of laughter, and couldn’t stop. you and jj had to bend down and place a hand on your stomachs’ to stop them from hurting a little. after a while, there was no words just the intake of small breaths and exhaling them out for control. when the fun comedy was over, you guys followed the boy and his friend inside the hotel lobby. `you took turns registering, and when you were all done, you saw that the rest of the team had beat you to it. they were sitting down in a cushion area near the front desk and were waiting for you guys.

“okay, now that the rooms are ready, you all can pick a partner to dorm with. it doesn’t really matter, but just choose wisely. I know some people get too crazy when they’re together,” hotch announced, flashing a look at you and garcia before handing out keys. you and emily teamed up per usual, and the rest pairing up in the same order they had been in before. once everyone was ready, you started to make your way up to your rooms while making small chatter with the rest of the gang. emily inserted the key into the lock of the door, and as soon she opened the door, your eyes’ were met with the most delicate and luxurious room you both have ever encountered.

on either side of the room were two king sized beds with victorian style bed sheets; the design on them were floral, the pastel shades of the roses tracing the outline of the bed beautifully. the ends of the sheets were long, but shabby, which added a nice, elegant, and almost romantic feel to it.

in the middle of the two beds was a small isle that allowed one person to walk on it at a time. at the end of it, was the entrance to the balcony, which gave view to the famed Eiffel Tower. the small cities, parks, and lakes, that made up the ground portion of the tower were now completely lit up, giving way to an entire new feeling for you. you set your bags on the bed, pushing the cushion down with your hand to feel the softness of it, and made way to the balcony.

“i’ll be right out here, em, if you need me,” you said, waiting for the small “yup” that came from her before proceeding. as soon as your leg crossed the small threshold to the other side, the fresh, cool breeze of the night flooded your senses. you smiled and took in the emotion it gave you, fully crossing over to stand against the railing now. you took in the sights first. the trees that shaped the parks swiveled against the current of the wind, couples of all ages walking hand in hand, admiring how the moon and the stars matched so well to their love. the lights of the tower gleaming brightly and almost seemingly looking at you, as if they asked you, “don’t you realize, (y/n)? don’t you pay attention?”

paris, and everything it was offering you at that moment, put you through a trance. one where you began to actually speak to the lights, the very same ones that millions of others had fallen in love under. “realize what? I do pay attention, i always have, but what is it I need to notice?”

you kept staring and looking around, if the lights actually were talking to you and this wasn’t a dream, and that you weren’t crazy. you looked around the balcony and walked on it to spy a tiny clue your instincts informed you about. soon enough, you noticed that the balcony was shared by the room next door. you placed your right hand on the rail to kneel down a bit and see if you could figure out who the room belonged to.

“maybe it’s penny, oh god please be penny. i’m not in the mood to see rossi in scooby-doo underpants...” you whispered fairly. just when you saw a dainty silhouette about to exit the restroom, you turned around to your end of the balcony.

“(y/n)? are you spying on- (y/n), we’ve been here one hour! our hot, paris boyfriends can wait until we catch the unsub,” emily, whose head was the only part of her body on the outside of the balcony, whispered. “come on, get changed into some comfy clothes. we can take a look at the victimology together.”

standing up, you made one quick glance at the room and the figure was already gone and so was the light. thanks for that, eiffel tower lights, you thought. you crossed to you room again and took a shower before arranging your clothes according to the days of your stay. you put your pajamas on and climbed onto one side of emily’s bed to wait for her to come out of the restroom, since you guys took turns brushing your teeth.

after about a half and hour of rearranging victimology statements and connecting photos from the crime scene, the both of you were ready to go to sleep. emily turned off her lights and you took one last glance at the view before doing the same.

and then you heard footsteps on your balcony.

----------

“you guys think I can woo a french girl tonight?”

“honey, with those shoes? not a chance,” garcia pointed out. morgan made a pout at her response and then acted as if he was offended. the team laughed and then raised their glass in unison and took a sip. the case, overall, went well. you guys managed to catch the unsub in an isolated tunnel and brought him over to the parisian authorities. you and jj had taken the only victim left alive to the station to make one final statement to the news. the rest of bodies were given proper burial and the families were finally given closure.

because the team had performed beyond excellent, and there were still a few days left before your departure, the team opted on celebrating on a night out. currently, you and your friends were seated around a small circular table inside a local bar, chatting away at whatever came to mind.

you chose to only drink mineral water, mostly because you knew that you were technically still at work and you didn’t want to risk being drunk in case of an emergency. reid, in a similar manner, chose a glass of soda to toast with. but while doing so, he found himself looking at you in the same way he did on the plane. he hadn’t been able to take in your features that night, but as everyone was so deeply distracted, he began to notice everything.

he looked over your outfit for tonight, a red, plaid mini skirt with a black turtleneck. the shirt itself was fitted to your body and allowed your angles and curves to be accentuated perfectly. the skirt permitted your legs to be highlighted in a decent, and elegant manner. your hair was loose tonight, and with every breeze that made its way through the bar windows, it caused small strands to caress your face lightly and some to stick to your lip gloss. the heels, oh god, the heels. it drove him crazy; the delicate way in which they clicked when you walked on the concrete, how they would sometimes cause you discomfort and force you to stop and fix it, how your gentle hand had grasp his shoulder for balance or else you’d fall.

everything about you tonight was immaculate. no matter how hard he forced himself to look away from you, to stop thinking of you in any other way than a coworker, and to just drink his soda which was becoming less carbonated with every passing second, he just couldn’t. and it was scaring the hell out of him.

you on the other hand, were still trying to decipher what the tower lights had asked you. what was there to realize? you were here, in paris, the city where millions of people fall in love, to fight a serial killer. the chances of you finding love, especially on a balcony where you had spied on a stranger, were slim.

by the time you finished your thought process, you noticed that hotch was looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“everything alright, (y/n)?” he softly asked you.

“yes, sir, just thinking. is it okay if I head back to my hotel?”

“yes, of course, you might even catch reid on the way there. he left a couple of minutes ago.”

“thank you, sir. good night,” you spoke and got up from your chair, adjusting your skirt as you did so. huh, he left? weird, you thought. you left a tip for the waiter and bid farewell to the rest of your companions before grabbing your coat and clutch and exiting the bar.

it was rather close to your hotel, so within a few minutes you had reached your dorm and set your things down. sitting down on the edge of the bed, you bent over slightly to unlatch your heels and slip them off your feet. you set them aside and you laid on your back for a few minutes. the only light in your room was the bathroom’s as you didn’t like strong lights shining during the night, so these dimmed ones would do.

you closed your eyes for a little while and just let the sounds of the city flow through you. you had one opportunity to experience paris, and you weren’t gonna take it for granted. for a while, only your small inhales and exhales of breath were audible, the aura of the room peaceful.

it wasn’t until you heard footsteps, the very same ones from that other night, on your balcony. your eyes flew open and you pushed your body upward to look back at your window. this is my shot, my chance, you thought. could it be a super old man who was here on vacation? yes. could it rossi, who might’ve gotten the dorm next to yours? maybe. were the possibilities of who the hell was on your balcony in a parisian hotel endless? again, yes.

but you had to see for yourself, figure out what exactly the universe, paris, was telling you. so you got up from your bed and creeped quietly to the window and slid it up. you crossed the threshold, and even though your light was limited, you were able to make out a tall, thin figure. you inched a little closer, hands crossed over your chest to appear somewhat like a normal human. you wouldn’t have figured it out until he spoke.

“(y/n)?”

his voice sent shivers down every inch of your body, and no, it wasn’t the cold air of the city, it was him. it was spencer. it caught you by surprise, the feeling his voice gave you, but you tried to play it off. he never made you feel this way, why now?

“(y/n)? you okay?” he spoke again. this time you lightly shook your head and walked closer to where he was standing so you could lean on the railing now. his body followed yours, and now you were able to make out the perpexled look on his eyes.

“hi, yeah, I’m good. just didn’t expect to find you here, that’s all,” you spoke quietly, unsure of yourself. he noticed, obviously he noticed, it’s spencer.

“yeah, same here. I heard footsteps the other night here but I had just taken a shower so I didn’t come out until later.” you glanced up at him when you realized that he was the figure that was in the restroom you’d seen. the one you had spied on and probably would’ve seen naked if emily hadn’t interrupted. a tiny blush made its way onto your cheeks, and you were quite thankful the dark covered the rosy color a little.

but spencer wasn’t dumb, much less stupid, and if he noticed every little detail about you tonight, he saw how you became around him. and god, he sure did like it. “oh, well that’s good, i guess,” was all you could mutter. so you turned your body now to face the tower, elbows on the railing and hands folded together. he saw the shift in stance and he followed, so now you were both side by side and looking at a view that somehow resembled your emotions for one another.

“hey spence?”

“yeah?”

“have you ever fallen in love?”

his voice hitched a little and he felt his throat tighten. he let out a small cough to mask the impact of your question, but he found the strength in his voice to retort.

“what makes you ask?”

“no, no reason, i was just curious, ya know. being in paris and all,” you answered. you began to feel intrusive for asking such a personal question, but it had seemed easy for you to do so because of your friendship. you were looking at him as you replied, but then looked back towards the view again. the both of you stood in silence for a couple minutes, your guilt seeping in more at this point.

“only once. it didn’t end well for the both of us,” he broke the silence. you turned your head to look at him, and you were about to open your mouth to say something when he spoke again.

“but it happened a long time ago. i don’t think about her anymore.”

you straightened up a little and you continued to face him, prying a little deeper than you should be. “so who do you think about now?”

he glanced at you, his face quickly returning back to the nature displayed in front of him and then looked back to you. a small grin began tugging at his lips, as if he meant to ask, “is this your way of playing with me?”

you gazed up at him and took this sudden swerve of confidence to glance at his lips, and then back up to him, your own smile forming.

“she’s standing on a balcony with me in paris.”

18 notes · View notes

tainted-musix · 5 years ago

Text

Why is it hard for people to be themselves in the industry? And does the industry allow it?

I will admit I have been sleeping on Ed Sheeran and not just his music, but him in general. He is one of the few artist that is successfully himself. He put out his recent album No.9 Collaboration.

Not only does he take different direction in music for himself he collaborates with numerous artist to create a DJ Khaled style album. However, he puts his own spin on the style. He ACTUALLY sings on them unlike DJ (subtle drag).

I want to talk about the question in the title though.... If you’re here because you follow the page, care about the industry and educating yourself more on how it works, or you just stumbled upon it.... Welcome! I’m not the most knowledgable, but who is?

Recently Ed did an interview with Charlamagne tha God, for typing sake we will refer to him as CTG, ok? ok. The interview is basically a commentary for the project in video format. CTG asks him a question referring to the project, track by track, and Ed answers the question. He discusses lyrics and the meaning behind the people he chose to work with. One section of the interview was interesting though and immediately caught my attention.

youtube

The specific thing I’ll be talking about is found around 34:50-36:04 . Ed talks about Beautiful People ft Khalid. In that conversation he speaks about how much he hated living LA and NY because of the fact that there was always something going on. There was always a party or an event that was happening. It was/is a constant cycle.

This immediately made me think about Real Friends by Camila Cabello. Which in the lyrics she talks about LA and the idea of it being a paper town where everything is just for show. This is when things got interesting.

CTG asked Ed, “Why is it hard for people to be themselves in the industry? And does the industry allow it?”

Ed answered the question from his personal experience and I really loved it. He goes on to talk about how it is possible and there is a space for it in the industry, but that person would have to be successful as themself. Basically if you put on an act you can still be successful, but it’s tricky to get out of.

By that and what he said afterwards I can assume he means you can definitely be successful as something else, but once you realize maybe you aren’t happy acting like someone you're not its hard to get yourself out the situation.

So now this poses a completely separate question of if someone goes into the industry young and impressionable do they get to decide?

Fifth Harmony (the girls involved), Miley Cyrus, even Justin Bieber for example they came into everything young. Miley was acting and had this Disney image to breakout of as well as many other Disney stars. At some point she had her moment of wanting to be Miley not Hannah and so she went and made noise the only way she knew how. With her music. She changed her style and how she was perceived to the public so she could break out of that mold. Now her numbers may not be the same, and she may not top the charts all the time or as often, but she found her own definition of success.

Justin Bieber, he came into the industry really early as well. Most people hated him at first. He had an annoying girly voice (they said). He has topped the charts his ENTIRE career and even when he comes back and does something like go on stage at Coachella with Ariana Grande or feature on a song with Ed it’s huge. That’s just the person he is. However, during the Purpose era til now he had this big moment of I want to do what makes me happy. So he got married and does features here and there. Does he still cause the occasional trouble? Absolutely, but he had his moment. He has taken a break to get his actual life on track. Music isn't about the money or the numbers anymore he wants a family and to do what he loves with the people he loves.

Now 5h that's tricky. This situation is completely out of pocket. I have to take it a part. This group was first of all not formed because they were all close friends who knew the others could sing. This was manufactured. They signed contracts and are wrapped up in stuff that would take a lot of words to explain and I just don't feel like it. I’ll mince the words up though.

Camila and Lauren were always the ones who were seen as the success of the group. Basically the Beyonce and Kelly, if you will. Ally, Normani, and Dinah were theoretically being thrown to the dogs (tragic). Where the label Syco/Sony saw weakness they saw something else. Those three are now doing their own thing. Out of their contracts and making music they like. They didn’t have the big moment per say rather they couldn’t leave on their own, but they have the opportunity now.

Lauren and Camila are a different story though.

Most people know the rumors Camila maybe gay or bi idk her story but that's the guideline. Even the gp is picking up on that .... but I digress.

Lauren was able to come out as Bi after being told in short terms, maybe lets hold off. Some people in her family even advised her against it. But here we are. Homegirl hasn’t popped on the charts yet. Don’t comment that she has because GP barely heard Expectations. RELAX. Its the truth.

My point is she is getting new management and MAYBE...... she will be able to find her definition of success with music she makes and has say in. She was labeled the more rebellious one of the group and it has already been interesting to watch her grow. She has a huge interest in politics and advocating for people who don’t have as a big a voice as hers. She uses her voice for good and I admire that a lot. This is one of her hopefully many steps to being the person she wants to be.

Now Camila...... I don’t even know. I’m confused. She has a lot going on right now. There’s definitely honesty in her music and she seems genuine. Ed even talks about her in his interview. He said she is very sweet, talented, and genuinely a nice girl..... It throws me off. The narrative that her team gives her or really anyone who isn't able to be authentically themselves in the industry. It’s really crazy when you think about it like this.

She just wants to make music. She’s honest about her life experiences in interviews. Yeah she doesn't say everything, but nobody would. She’s not chasing the fame I don't think. I think the people behind her are though. She really looks exhausted half the time she's on tour or promoting something. Don’t even get me started on the Shawn thing.

If it was genuine I don't think they would be parading it around. Don’t come at me in the comments either with the “you don’t know her”. I am more than aware that I don't, however the things people say about her makes it seem as though she is a woman of her word (when they aren't written for her of course). So when she says she wants to keep her relationships private, if she can, I truly believe that. When she said that Shawn is like her brother, and talks about the kind of love she's had for him previously, it’s very hard for me and many others to believe this relationship is anything more than promotion. Her choice or not.

I have nothing against them, if they are happy whatever, but the way Camila has acted in the past about things and the excitement and joy she has about basic things aren't the same excitement I’ve seen now.

Her image is the only thing that is stopping her from having that big moment. Her music is honest, real, and raw. You can tell that by the way she talks about the lyrics she writes. And the experiences behind the songs. She obviously puts all of herself into it. I just hope that she and any of the other people who are in her situation get the chance to enjoy that space that Ed talks about. A space where she can be completely herself.

I hope they find their version of success.

220 notes · View notes

faroreswinds · 5 years ago

Text

3H DLC Book 5: Mysteries of the Calendar, Vol. 2

With the new update, there is some new stuff to dig in here that I very much want to look over. You can find the books here: https://imgur.com/a/IbluWTg

Since there are a lot of them, I’m just going to split them up into different posts and take my time shifting through them.

Summary- Contents

This particular book is about the past, most notably the old calendar way, which is basically just our calendar in real life. I guess this makes sense, as Foldan was once a technologically advanced world very similar to our own, with skyscrapers and dangerous weapons of war. I would hazard a guess that old, advanced Foldan was basically our world, just with magical origins.

Regardless, the book is about the shift of the old calendar way to the new one the game presents. The old way was “months” and the new way is “moons”, although they basically serve the exact same function and only the naming function has changed. The prior way of naming (January, February, etc.) are lost, but they are aware that they were shortened to numbers such as 1 and 2.

It goes on to state that this old method existed for an immeasurable amount of time, that they do not know when it started other than it can be traced back to the era of the gods, and that it simply brings up more questions.

The old way was changed by Emperor Wilhelm when he founded the Adrestian Empire, abandoning the old calendar for the Imperial one. It would have caused a lot of unrest and confusion at the time, so the book proposes that may have been two reasons for the change.

The Influence of the Church of Seiros

As the change to “moons” was meant to reflect the teachings of Seiros, as the moons are associated with the saints and tenets, it is likely that Wilhelm wanted to help legitimize the Church and help spread the beliefs.

If true, this mean that that since its inception, the Empire has had close ties with the Church of Seiros.

It is also postulated that the goddess herself wished for the change to occur as voiced through Saint Seiros, and Wilhelm was simply implementing this change.

Asserting Authority

Since the flow of time is important, creating a new method to track it is akin to claiming dominion over time itself. As such, the Empire took its newfound influence after its founding, and retroactively proclaimed its founding as Year 1. Amid the founding of Foldan, this move would have bolstered the Empire’s authority and heralded the start of a new era.

Legitimacy of Document

As per Linhardt’s declaration that some of the documents may be fake or forgeries, it’s a good idea to question the legitimacy of all. It’s better to question what is real, and what isn’t, even if in the end it’s only guesses.

This document is pretty interesting, and if real somewhat telling. I can’t say we gleam a whole lot of new info we couldn’t have simply guessed from general critical thinking, but it’s nonetheless worth looking into.

Firstly, what this tells us is that the “old way” is basically what the real world uses. As I mentioned before, this matches with ancient Foldan being a somewhat reflection of our real world now (just with the added touch of magic and real gods and dragons). “Months” were changed to “moons”, but the system basically works the same. The Empire simply added a theological meaning to each month, and a new name, as well as restarting the years to 1. Sort of like how we have BE and AD, in a way (just without Jesus). Perhaps it would be closer to compare it to the traditional Japanese calendar years, where they track the years based on the current Emperor and what how many years he has been in power. For example, in 2019, it was the Heisei Era year 63. When the emperor stepped down, the new emperor proclaimed the new period as Reiwa Year 1.

What is particularly interesting is that, according to this document, it would seem historians tried to retrace the origins of this old calendar way. They were able to trace it back to the “era of the gods” and it simply created more questions. What these questions are, we don’t know. What this era means, we also don’t know. However, as per my look at the Slither document, it may be possible that the era of the gods refers to the time when Foldan was once modern. Unfortunately, this is purely speculation. All we know is, is that it was in use for a very long time, all the way up to when Wilhelm founded the Empire over 1000 years ago.

This brings another thing to mind. If the calendar did indeed last since the time when the Slithers were still on the surface, than means the calendar system lasted through the destruction of the world and through the war between Sothis and the Slithers. This offers two explanations as to why this system survived:

Sothis and the Nabateans re-implemented the system so that the humans on the newly formed Foldan could keep track of time.

Some humans survived on the surface through the war, and carried on the legacy of the old ways the best they could.

Both cases are possible, although we know that that the Nabateans did not reintroduce technology to the humans after Foldan was restored (and therefore may not have re-introduced the time system). The second scenario is quite likely, however, as Rhea herself implies that some may humans survived the Sothis war (unless she just means that the only survivors where the ones that went underground).

It is also possible that the “era of the gods” refers to when Sothis “restarted Foldan”, and the old system is actually not older than her war with the Slithers.

Regardless, the next part is very interesting: the reasons why Wilhelm implemented the new system. According to the game, the Empire was founded on the 1st of the Great Tree Moon (which is the equivalent of April). This is particularly interesting because in Japan, April 1st has an importance, as it marks the beginning of the government's fiscal year. It is also the date when Reiwa Year 1 began (calling back to the Japanese system of time keeping I mentioned before).

In the lore of the game, the Great Tree Moon is the beginning of the new year and spring; people pray to realize their potential.

Anyways, since the book is of a more recent print, the writers and historians involved have no clue as to why Wilhelm implemented a new time keeping system when it would have caused confusion and unrest during a time that was already difficult. However, they propose two possible theories:

Wilhelm did as the goddess desired, or did it to bolster the credibility of the Church and spread the beliefs

Wilhelm wanted to bolster the Empire’s new rule and secure authority.

Both of these are valid theories, although they suggest different things. For former implies that Rhea used Wilhelm to validate her Church and basically enforce some soft power and influence over Foldan. Another possible conclusion we can draw is that Wilhelm wanted to help legitimize Rhea’s religion because they were allies working together to change the social-political climate of the continent, or maybe even help her establish a means to protect the dark truth from humans, as well as any surviving Nabateans.

The latter theory suggests that it was actually Wilhelm who used the Church’s influence to bolster his own power, to solidify his new era and dominance over the people of Foldan.

It is important to remember that the author of these books is unsure, and that these are simply theories. However, I would summarize that the truth is a little bit of both. Wilhelm and Rhea were allies, although how much Wilhelm knew of Rhea’s history is unclear. He probably wanted to solidify his power, and Rhea wanted to establish her Church. By changing the calendar system, they were able to accomplish both goals.

Either way, it would be unfair to say that one theory is more true than the other when we lack any evidence to back such a claim up.

Now, how legitimate is this book? Well, it’s certainly not suspicious. It’s not terribly incriminating for any particular side, and reads pretty objectively. It lacks Seteth’s signature, so it is unlikely that it was removed from the library, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real. It would also go hand in hand with how past Foldan seems similar to the real world.

Ultimately, the most important thing we can gleam from this document is that Wilhelm and possibly Rhea changed the calendar, but beyond that doesn’t really contextualize history that deeply. I would say this document has a high chance of being pretty legit overall.

If there anything else anyone would like to add, please feel free to share!

#Fire Emblem #3H #Fire Emblem Discussion #3H Discussion #3H DLC #3H DLC Books #My thoughts

7 notes · View notes

hlupdate · 5 years ago

Link

A handshake can quell political unrest and stifle impending war. It can, with a bit of spit, validate a gentleman’s agreement, end a years-long romantic relationship or send a young heart racing. But it all depends on the two parties involved.

Daisy, 21, felt a seismic jolt when Harry Styles, 25, wearing a striped jumper and rings on three of his five fingers, clutched her hand two days after this year’s Met Gala in New York, when she served him gelato at the shop where she worked.

“He decided on a small mint chocolate gelato and I made his and the one for his friend and I said, ‘Can I just say I absolutely loved your Met Gala look’ and he said ‘Thank you very much! What’s your name?’ And I said, ‘Daisy’ AND HE FUCKING EXTENDED HISHAND AND REACHED TO SHAKE MY HAND AND I ACTUALLY FUCKINGSHOOK HIS HAND WHAT THE FUCK,” she wrote on Instagram after The Shakening. “Like I didn’t even say anything to gas him up besides ‘I loved your met gala look’ and his fine ass went and shook my hand! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL FUCKING HUMAN BEINGTHAT HE IS GOD BLESS HIM AND I HOPE HW [sic] LIVES FOREVER.”

For Harry Styles, a handshake can be a romantic gesture, conjuring a potent reverence in its recipient, like the time he met Gucci’s creative director Alessandro Michele. “He was as attractive as James Dean and as persuasive as Greta Garbo. He was like a Luchino Visconti character, like an Apollo: at the same time sexy as a woman, as a kid, as a man,” Michele told me, hastening to add: “Of course, Harry is not aware of this.”

No, Styles has no idea the power he wields. In person, he’s towering, like someone who is not that much taller but whose reputation adds four inches. Styles has a sedative baritone, spoken in a rummy northern English accent, that tumbles out so slowly you forget the name of your first born, a swagger that has been nursed and perfected in mythical places with names like Paisley Park, or Abbey Road, or Graceland. Makes complete sense that he would be up for the role of Elvis Presley in Baz Luhrmann’s upcoming biopic. He was primed, nay, born to shake his hips, all but one button on his shirt clinging for dear life around his torso. Then the part was awarded to another actor, Austin Butler.

“[Elvis] was such an icon for me growing up,” Styles tells me. “There was something almost sacred about him, almost like I didn’t want to touch him. Then I ended up getting into [his life] a bit and I wasn’t disappointed,” he adds of his initial research and preparations to play The King. He seems relaxed about losing the part to Butler. “I feel like if I’m not the right person for the thing, then it’s best for both of us that I don’t do it, you know?”

Styles released his self-titled debut solo album in May 2017. The boyband grad was clearly uninterested in hollowing out the charts with more formulaic meme pop. Instead, to the surprise of many, he dug his heels into retro-fetishist West Coast ’70s rock. Some of the One Direction fan-hordes might have been confused, but no matter: Harry Styles sold one million copies.

Despite its commercial and critical success, he didn’t tour the album right away. He wanted to act in the Christopher Nolan film Dunkirk. To his credit, his portrayal of a British soldier cowering in a moored boat on the French beaches as the Nazis advanced wasn’t skewered in the press like the movie debuts of, say, Madonna or Justin Timberlake. Perhaps he was following advice given by Elton John, who had urged him to diversify. “He was brilliant in Dunkirk, which took a lot of people by surprise,” John writes in an email. “I love how he takes chances and risks.” Acting, unlike music, is a release for Styles; it’s the one time he can be not himself.

“Why do I want to act? It’s so different to music for me,” he says, suddenly animated. “They’re almost opposite for me. Music, you try and put so much of yourself into it; acting, you’re trying to totally disappear in whoever you’re being.”

Following the news that he missed out on Presley, his name was floated for the role of Prince Eric in Disney’s live-action remake of The Little Mermaid. However, fans will have to wait a bit longer to see Styles on the big screen as that idea, too, has sunk. He won’t be The King or the Prince. “It was discussed,” he acknowledges before swiftly changing the subject. “I want to put music out and focus on that for a while. But everyone involved in it was amazing, so I think it’s going to be great. I’ll enjoy watching it, I’m sure.”

The new album is wrapped and the single is decided upon. “It’s not like his last album,” his friend, rock ‘n’ roll legend Stevie Nicks, told me recently over the phone. “It’s not like anything One Direction ever did. It’s pure Harry, as Harry would say. He’s made a very different record and it’s spectacular.”

Beyond that, Styles is keeping his cards close to his chest as to his next musical move. However, the air is thick with rumours that his main wingman for HS2 is Kid Harpoon, aka Tom Hull, who co-wrote debut album track Sweet Creature. No less an authority than Liam Gallagher told us that both big band escapees were in the same studio – RAK in north-west London – at the same time making their second solo albums. Styles played him a couple of tracks, “and I tell you what, they’re good,” Gallagher enthused. “A bit like that Bon Iver. Is that his name?”

Harry Styles met Nicks at a Fleetwood Mac concert in Los Angeles in April 2015. Something about him felt authentic to the legendary frontwoman: grounded, like she’d known him forever, blessed with a winning moonshot grin. A month later, they met backstage at another Mac gig, this time at the O2 in London. Styles brought a carrot cake for Nicks’ birthday, her name piped in icing on top. By her own admission, Nicks doesn’t even celebrate birthdays, so this was a surprise. “He was personally responsible for me actually having to celebrate my birthday, which was very sweet,” she says.

Styles’ relationship with Nicks is hard to define. Inducting her into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in New York as a solo artist earlier this year, his speech hymned her as a “magical gypsy godmother who occupies the in-between”. She’s called him her “lovechild” with Mick Fleetwood and the “son I never had”. Both have moved past the preliminary chat acknowledging each other’s unquantifiable talents and smoothly accelerated towards playful cut-and-thrust banter of a witch mom and her naughty child.

They perform together – he sings The Chainand Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around; she sings the one allegedly written about Taylor Swift, Two Ghosts. One of those performances was at the Gucci Cruise afterparty in Rome in May, for “a lot of money”, Nicks tells me, in a “big kind of castle place”. She has become his de facto mentor – one phone call is all it takes to reach the Queen of Rock’n’Roll for advice on sequencing (“She is really good at track listing,” Styles admits) or just to hear each other’s voices… because, well, wouldn’t you?

Following another Fleetwood Mac concert, at London’s Wembley Stadium, in June, Nicks met Styles for a late (Indian) dinner. He then invited her back to his semi-detached Georgian mansion in north London for a listening party at midnight. The album – HS2or whatever it’ll be called – was finished. Nicks, her assistant Karen, her make-up artist and her friends Jess and Mary crammed onto Styles’ living-room couch. They listened to it once through in silence like a “bunch of educated monks or something in this dark room”. Then once again, 15 or 16 tracks, this time each of his guests offering live feedback. It wrapped at 5am, just as the sun was bleeding through the curtains.

Even for a pop star of Styles’ stature, pressing “play” on a deeply personal work for your hero to digest, watching her face react in real time to your new music, must be… what?

“It’s a double-edged thing,” he replies. “You’re always nervous when you are playing people music for the first time. You’ve heard it so much by this point, you forget that people haven’t heard it before. It’s hard to not feel like you’ve done what you’ve set out to do. You are happy with something and then someone who you respect so much and look up to is, like: ‘I really like this.’ It feels like a large stamp [of approval]. It’s a big step towards feeling very comfortable with whatever else happens to it.”

Wading through Styles’ background info is exhausting, since he was spanked by fame in the social media era where every goddam blink of a kohl-rimmed eye has been documented from six angles. (And yes, he does sometimes wear guyliner.)

Deep breath: born in Redditch, Worcestershire, to parents Des and Anne, who divorced when he was seven. Grew up in Holmes Chapel in Cheshire with his sister Gemma, mum and stepdad Robin Twist. Rode horses at a nearby stable for free (“I was a bad rider, but I was a rider”). Stopped riding, “got into different stuff”. Formed a band, White Eskimo, with schoolmates. Aged 16, tried out for the 2010 run of The X Factorwith a stirring but average rendition of Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely. Cut from the show and put into a boy band with four others, Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne, Niall Horan and Zayn Malik, and called One Direction. Became internationally famous, toured the globe. Zayn quit to go solo. Toured some more. Dated but maybe didn’t date Caroline Flack, Rita Ora and Taylor Swift – whom he reportedly dumped in the British Virgin Islands. (This relationship, if nothing else, yielded an iconic, candid shot of Swift looking dejected, being motored back to shore on the back of a boat called the Flying Ray.) One Direction discussed disbanding in 2014, actually dissolved in 2015. They remain friendly, and Styles officially went solo in 2016.

It’s been two years since his eponymous debut and lead single, Sign of the Times, shocked the world and Elton John with its swaggering, soft rock sound. “It came out of left field and I loved it,” John says.

After 89 arena-packed shows across five continents grossed him, the label, whomever, over $61 million, Styles had all but disappeared. He has emerged only intermittently for public-facing events – a Gucci afterparty performance here, a Met Gala co-chairing there. He relocated from Los Angeles back to London, selling his Hollywood Hills house for $6million and shipping his Jaguar E-type across the Atlantic so he could take joyrides on the M25.

“I’m not over LA,” he insists when I ask about the move. “My relationship with LAchanged a lot. What I wanted from LA changed.”

A great escape, he would agree, is sometimes necessary. He was in Tokyo for most of January, having nearly finished his album. “I needed time to get out of that album frame-of-mind of: ‘Is it finished? Where am I at? What’s happening?’ I really needed that time away from everyone. I was kind of just in Tokyo by myself.” His sabbatical mostly involved reading Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, singing Nirvana at karaoke, writing alone in his hotel room, listening to music and eavesdropping on strangers in alien conversation. “It was just a positive time for my head and I think that impacted the album in a big way.”

During this break he watched a lot of films, read a lot of books. Sometimes he texts these recommendations to his pal Michele at Gucci. He told Michele to watch the Ali Macgraw film, Love Story. “We text what friends text about. He is the same [as me] in terms of he lives in his own world and he does his own thing. I love dressing up and he loves dressing up.”

Because he loves dressing up, Michele chose Styles to be the face of three Gucci Tailoring campaigns and of its new genderless fragrance, Mémoire d’une Odeur.

“The moment I met him, I immediately understood there was something strong around him,” Michele tells me. “I realised he was much more than a young singer. He was a young man, dressed in a thoughtful way, with uncombed hair and a beautiful voice. I thought he gathered within himself the feminine and the masculine.”

Fashion, for Styles, is a playground. Something he doesn’t take too seriously. A couple of years ago Harry Lambert, his stylist since 2015, acquired for him a pair of pink metallic Saint Laurent boots that he has never been photographed wearing. They are exceedingly rare – few pairs exist. Styles wears them “to get milk”. They are, in his words, “super-fun”. He’s not sure, but he has, ballpark, 50 pairs of shoes, as well as full closets in at least three postcodes. He settles on an outfit fairly quickly, maybe changes his T-shirt once before heading out, but mostly knows what he likes.

What he may not fully comprehend is that simply by being photographed in a garment he can spur the career of a designer, as he has with Harris Reed, Palomo Spain, Charles Jeffrey, Alled-Martínez and a new favourite, Bode. Styles wore a SS16 Gucci floral suit to the 2015 American Music Awards. When he was asked who made his suit on the red carpet, Gucci began trending worldwide on Twitter.

“It was one of the first times a male wore Alessandro’s runway designs and, at the time, men were not taking too many red carpet risks,” says Lambert. “Who knows if it influenced others, but it was a special moment. Plus, it was fun seeing the fans dress up in suits to come see Harry’s shows.”

Yet traditional gender codes of dress still have the minds of middle America in a chokehold. Men can’t wear women’s clothes, say the online whingers, who have labelled him “tragic”, “a clown” and a Bowie wannabe. Styles doesn’t care. “What’s feminine and what’s masculine, what men are wearing and what women are wearing – it’s like there are no lines any more.”

Elton John agrees: “It worked for Marc Bolan, Bowie and Mick. Harry has the same qualities.”

Then there is the question of Styles’ sexuality, something he has admittedly “never really started to label”, which will plague him until he does. Perhaps it’s part of his allure. He’s brandished a pride flag that read “Make America Gay Again” on stage, and planted a stake somewhere left of centre on sexuality’s rainbow spectrum.

“In the position that he’s in, he can’t really say a lot, but he chose a queer girl band to open for him and I think that speaks volumes,” Josette Maskin of the queer band MUNA told The Face earlier this year.

“I get a lot of…” Styles trails off, wheels turning on how he can discuss sexuality without really answering. “I’m not always super-outspoken. But I think it’s very clear from choices that I make that I feel a certain way about lots of things. I don’t know how to describe it. I guess I’m not…” He pauses again, pivots. “I want everyone to feel welcome at shows and online. They want to be loved and equal, you know? I’m never unsupported, so it feels weird for me to overthink it for someone else.”

Sexuality aside, he must acknowledge that he has sex appeal. “The word ‘sexy’ sounds so strange coming out of my mouth. So I would say that that’s probably why I would not consider myself sexy.”

Harry Styles has emerged fully-formed, an anachronistic rock star, vague in sensibility but destined to impress with a disarming smile and a warm but firm handshake.

I recite to him a quote from Chrissie Hynde of The Pretenders about her time atop rock’s throne: “I never got into this for the money or because I wanted to join in the superstar sex around the swimming pools. I did it because the offer of a record contract came along and it seemed like it might be more fun than being a waitress. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Styles – who worked in a bakery in a small northern town some time before playing to 40,000 screaming fans in South American arenas – must have witnessed some shit, been invited to a few poolside sex parties, in his time.

“I’ve seen a couple of things,” he nods in agreement. “But I’m still young. I feel like there’s still stuff to see.”

#harry styles #the face #050919

37 notes · View notes

stylesnews · 5 years ago

Text

The Face - Volume 4 . Issue 1

“He decided on a small mint chocolate gelato and I made his and the one for his friend and I said, ‘Can I just say I absolutely loved your Met Gala look’ and he said ‘Thank you very much! What’s your name?’ And I said, ‘Daisy’ AND HE FUCKING EXTENDED HIS HAND AND REACHEDTO SHAKE MY HAND AND I ACTUALLY FUCKING SHOOK HIS HAND WHAT THEFUCK,” she wrote on Instagram after The Shakening. “Like I didn’t even say anything to gas him up besides ‘I loved your met gala look’ and his fine ass went and shook my hand! WHATA BEAUTIFUL FUCKING HUMAN BEING THAT HE IS GOD BLESS HIM AND I HOPE HW[sic] LIVES FOREVER.”

They perform together – he sings The Chain and Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around; she sings the one allegedly written about Taylor Swift, Two Ghosts. One of those performances was at the Gucci Cruise afterparty in Rome in May, for “a lot of money”, Nicks tells me, in a “big kind of castle place”. She has become his de facto mentor – one phone call is all it takes to reach the Queen of Rock’n’Roll for advice on sequencing (“She is really good at track listing,” Styles admits) or just to hear each other’s voices… because, well, wouldn’t you?

Even for a pop star of Styles’ stature, pressing “play” on a deeply personal work for your hero to digest, watching her face react in real time to your new music, must be… what?

After 89 arena-packed shows across five continents grossed him, the label, whomever, over $61million, Styles had all but disappeared. He has emerged only intermittently for public-facing events – a Gucci afterparty performance here, a Met Gala co-chairing there. He relocated from Los Angeles back to London, selling his Hollywood Hills house for $6 million and shipping his Jaguar E-type across the Atlantic so he could take joyrides on the M25.

“I’m not over LA,” he insists when I ask about the move. “My relationship with LA changed a lot. What I wanted from LA changed.”

Because he loves dressing up, Michele chose Styles to be the face of three Gucci Tailoring campaigns and of its new genderless fragrance, Mémoire d’une Odeur.

Elton John agrees: “It worked for Marc Bolan, Bowie and Mick. Harry has the same qualities.”

Harry Styles has emerged fully-formed, an anachronistic rock star, vague in sensibility but destined to impress with a disarming smile and a warm but firm handshake.

Styles – who worked in a bakery in a small northern town some time before playing to 40,000screaming fans in South American arenas – must have witnessed some shit, been invited to a few poolside sex parties, in his time.

“I’ve seen a couple of things,” he nods in agreement. “But I’m still young. I feel like there’s still stuff to see.”

#theface19 #harry styles #sep19 #article

36 notes · View notes

quietlypondering · 5 years ago

Text

Timeless | Chapter Three

Read on A03 Ship: Prinxiety Summary: In a society where superpowers are the new era on the horizon - Virgil is happy flying under the radar, as much as he can, with government issued blockers. Life was… Normal - Or, at least, as normal as he could be. Until one day, as cheesy as it sounds, a simple train ride would change his life forever. Word Count: 1642 Warnings: Suicide Mention, Blood mention, Anxiety mention, Angst with a happy ending, Temporary character death Tags: Superpower AU A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s reading and enjoying timeless so far!! I’ve literally had this in the backseat for a year I’m so glad it’s finally happening lmao. Also! A huge thank you to my beta reader @kolurise (who you should definitely go check out)

Start | Previous | Next Going forwards in time wasn’t a taboo per se, but it was certainly something that Virgil felt very strongly against, unless the circumstances were particularly dire. Understandably so - because backwards in time was one thing - but forwards was… You never knew what would happen. Going forward was a lot more unpredictable, to say the least. It was damn near impossible to control. He could end up anywhere. It’s one of the few things he agreed on being far too dangerous to use unless it was a dire circumstance - what if he got stuck? What if he accidentally, unwittingly changed the future?

And sure - he’d done it before as a kid, back when his powers were first coming in. He vividly remembered his mother freaking out, thinking he’d gone missing, only for him to turn up the next day right next to her.

...The week following his escapade was spent almost completely bedridden.

And he’d come this far.

What’s another few rules to break? Virgil knew the consequences.

He eyed Roman carefully - watching as he left for the audition, and taking a moment to ready himself. With a simple flick of the wrist, he was flung forward in time.

It’s important to note here, that the future is unforgiving. The past is the past - but the future knows things that you don’t. The future is harsh and terrifying, no matter what kind of future it is, no matter what you think might happen… The future is simply incomprehensible.

And Virgil could feel it. The seconds turning to minutes, then hours, thundering past him like a hurricane, forcing all air from his lungs. His fingers began to ache - and then his feet, his arms, his throat caught on the sound of a billion voices screaming into his skull.

He could turn back.

He could stop - right now - he could leave everything as it was. Let a death be just another goddamn death.

But Virgil was just too stubborn.

He pushed on - the whirlwind of time forcing his eyes shut. He moved his sluggish arms - pressing his fingers over his ears to try and get rid of the loud sirens in his head.

As he awoke - and he did finally wake, his breathing was shaky and erratic - It was like something had literally, physically taken his breath away. He was winded, and nauseous, and Virgil felt himself dizzy as a new scene shifted into view. A police car zoomed down the road outside.

“...Love?”

Something was holding his hand. He flinched, wrenching it away in momentary panic.

Virgil forced his eyes open; at first the light was bright, far too bright, but as they adjusted to the sun beaming in through some large windows, he realised he knew exactly who this was. Hair, curly and… longer. His eyes filled with a kind of worry he hadn’t seen directed at him in a long time.

“Roma-...? What day is it?” Virgil asked frantically, trying in vain to catch his breath.

“Uh. Saturday?”

“No, no I mean. Year. Month. I don’t have much-” He breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Oh- you said this would… Virgil, listen to me,” Roman, placed his hands reassuringly on Virgil’s shoulders. And Virgil recognised those eyes. He knew what would happen. “Virgil. You have to let me die.”

Virgil froze - his eyes shot straight up, right into Roman’s. It was the first time he’d looked straight at his eyes; not that he’d had a reason to before, but this was…

“Wh- What… the fuck?” This was insane.

“I’m serious! Just. Trust me.”

“No- I’m sorry, what?” He blinked a few times, before chewing nervously on his lip. Quietly, under his breath, he began mumbling, “If… this is the future… and you’re here… That means it… worked? I saved you?”

“Virgil-”

“But I-”

“Just let me die, Virge.” The sheer amount of urgency in his voice was enough to make anyone’s stomach lurch.

His hands began to go numb - and Virgil managed to get one last look at this future, before he got pulled god knows where. It was almost like a rollercoaster - he’d gotten all the way to the top, and there were only a few seconds left before--

...He’d always hated roller coasters.

The loud, incessant shrieking in the back of his skull certainly sounded a lot more shrill as he was flung backwards. Any amount of control he may have had was gone. Shit. He screwed his eyes shut, hoping for the vertigo to pass - but by the time it did, he was already back in that damn…

Virgil let out a low, irritable sound as he somehow, with whatever strength he had left, opened his heavy eyes.

Thankfully he didn’t have to deal with the sun digging its way into his eyes with the force of a monster truck. Virgil groaned, forcing his chest into a fit of coughing.

He pulled his hand away, grimacing at the droplets of blood in the middle of his palm.

“Ah, shit…” Virgil croaked, staring blankly at the ceiling before pulling himself out of bed - struggling for a moment to steady himself.

It was fine, he thought, he’d had a whole night to sleep and then some.

God, he didn’t even care about the audition anymore. Rubbing his eyes, he surveyed the room - his blocker was… on the floor.

Where he had left it, just before he went to the audition. In the morning.

His eyes went wide, and Virgil scrambled to look at the date on his phone. His stomach dropped as he read 7:42 pm -- in the evening. He… had an hour.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Virgil kicked himself into gear. Pulling on a coat, he stuffed his phone deep into one of his pockets, and with everything he had in him - he burst through the door.

He didn’t understand-- He saved him. Virgil saw, with his own two eyes, Roman - sitting in front of him as if nothing had ever fucking happened.

And he had the gall to tell Virgil to do the exact opposite of what he was trying to do.

One life. That’s all he asked. One goddamn stupid freaking life.

Oh, how those adults would be fawning over him now. “Putting your power to good use, I see!!” Fuck that. Fuck them.

For the first time in his life he could feel the wind in his hair as he raced against time.

He could feel his lungs protest against him as he sped down the street - passersby shot him odd glances that would usually cause him to withdraw - but he didn’t care.

The wind had messed up his hair as he ran, his feet stung, his lungs felt weak and numb but he was filled with a stubborn determination he didn’t have before.

It would take him, what, half an hour, at least? To catch a bus that may or may not even arrive in time, ride it to the station, and somehow get to Roman.

But it was the only choice he had.

He stood slumped against the bus shelter, practically vibrating with the anxious feeling creeping through his chest. As if on cue, a bus came barreling around the corner, its lights blinding him momentarily. He stuck his arm out, and once it had stopped, found his way to the back of the bus.

Virgil slumped down at a window seat in a daze - not caring about the odd looks he was receiving from nearby passengers. Instead, he lifted his hood over his head, and leant solemnly against the window. Watching the world go by.

He further curled into his hoodie, stuffing his hands in its large pockets. The lull in traffic movement was doing little to keep him calm; of course, public transport was never particularly reliable.

But it’s all he had.

Moving his head from the window, he leant his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.

What the hell did ‘just let me die’ even mean.

He raised his head abruptly - what if. He’d messed with time?

It’s not like he’d ever attempted anything of this sort of scale before. What if it was his fault? What if Roman being there was somehow caused by his meddling with time?

He wrapped his arms around his waist, trying to hide the grimace forming on his lips.

It would make sense, right? If he, some time in the future, messed with the past...

No. No that couldn’t be it.

...Could it?

He glanced out the window - his eyes widening as he rushed to press the bell. The bus came rocketing to a halt, and Virgil raced out the door and into the damp night. With a deep breath, he began to run.

Just a moment longer - another few blocks and the tracks would be visible. He bit his lip, so as to not cry out in frustration or pain or both - and then he saw it. Saw the tracks - and heard the distant screeching of a train traversing them.

Virgil took a deep breath, fighting to keep his feet going as he fought his way through an old, rusty gate that prevented too-adventurous children from accidentally getting hit.

“R-Roman!” He yelled, as loud as his voice would allow. He could see it. The orange headlights bathing everything in their path in a warm, fiery light-- and a shadow stood in front of it. “N-NO!”

He practically screamed, his voice giving one last push before it completely gave out. The train passed.

Roman was dead.

Again.

Virgil had been lucky enough to never hear a dying cat scream, but he was pretty sure that’s what he sounded like. Out of anger or frustration or -- something else.

“...Fuck,” he whispered into the cool night air, finally letting his knees give way.

He bit his lip.

He’s come all this way, right? He’d done so much for this damned person-- for. For Roman.

“Just let me die, Virge.”

“...Hah. Yeah fucking right.”

...

Something shifts by the tracks. Virgil is gone. //// TAGLIST //// @kolurise @royallyanxious

#timeless au #Prinxiety #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #superpower au #suicide mention #temporary character death #blood mention #my fic #my fics #Please like/reblog if you liked it!! I'd love to hear your opinions <3

36 notes · View notes

sweetbitterpdf · 5 years ago

Text

tag game: this or that & some faves

i was tagged by @lepetitepeach !! the love of my life tagging me in cool things as per usual merci nat !! some other people may have tagged me too looking back through my activity page is a MESS

coffee or tea? coffee!! i do love a nice cup of tea, but i’m in the depths of an undergrad degree, coffee’s my lifeblood rn

early bird or night owl? this one’s gotten tougher over the summer, since i was up so early so regularly. before this summer i would have said night owl for sure, but now there’s just... something about the way everything looks when the sun is just about to rise, and about getting to spend some time to myself before the rest of the world wakes up...

early bird now i think!!

denim or leather? denim!! leather has a weird texture imo it makes me uncomfy

pearl or gemstone? ooh i love them both!! maybe gemstone, just because there’s so many different ones with so many different colours!!

barefoot or shoes? i like wearing shoes most of the time!! i only have a couple of pairs but i wear them super regularly!!

if we were talking about, like... a nice grassy field, or the beach or something though, i’d go without them!!

eye colour? i’m not sure if this is asking my eye colour or my favourite eye colour— my answer to the former is a fairly dark brown, and the latter is green!! i love green eyes so much!!!

bath or showers? i’d love to say baths but i’m 5′11″ with long legs so having baths just isn’t realistic for me most of the time because i don’t fit in tubs well :// so showers!!

favourite emojis? ✨💖👍🥰👀🤙 (not sure abt favourite ones, but these are the ones that i use the most!!)

night in or night out? night in!! i love a night out with some friends from time to time, but but most of the time i just want to curl up on the couch with my cat by the time my day is over lmao

secret garden or secret library? secret library!! i’ve always wanted to have my own library, and the concept of having a secret one?? yes please!!

tattoos or piercings? tattoos, definitely!! i don’t have any of either myself but i love tattoos so much and i have a few ideas about ones i’d like to get!!

freckles or dimples? oh my god, freckles, they make me melt

eyes or lips? eyes!!

handwritten letters or texts/emails? there’s something so beautiful and personal about letters, especially in the electronic era when they’re a lot less frequent! i’d love to have someone i could send letters to, i’ve been sort of lowkey looking for a penpal?

i also had a thing with a girl once where we were across the world from each other and we would send letters to each other lmao

favourite colour? i’m a notoriously indecisive person, and this shows when someone asks me about my favourite colour! i really love warm colours, soft yellows and oranges and pinks... i also really love green!! i can’t pick just one!!!

favourite flower? i’m not really a huge flower person tbh?? when i say that i mean that flowers are lovely but i’m not super informed on the different types!! daisies maybe? or buttercups?? roses????

favourite ships? elu (& all the other evaks obvs), but also alex/henry from red, white, and royal blue, monty/henry (different henry!! no relation!!) from a gentleman’s guide to vice & virtue.. there’s probably more, but those are the ones i came up with off the top of my head!!

favourite scent? there’s so many!! i love roses, my go-to scent is lush’s rose jam body spray, and i adore everything they release with that scent!

also vanilla, orange, peppermint— as for like... naturally occurring smells, i also love the smell of a good ‘ol campfire, as well as petrichor, and the smell of fall!!

last song? wait for me (reprise) from the broadway cast recording of hadestown !! i finally listened to it and the man who plays orpheus has??? the most beautiful voice?? how does he convey such a longing and an ache through sound alone???

AU where eliott is orpheus and lucas is eurydice anyone???

last movie or tv show? i watched a few episodes of SKAM the night before last!! it’s the only show i have downloaded on my laptop, and the power was out. i’m on season two now!!

favourite gifs? i don’t use gifs frequently at all, so i’m just going to search SKAM stuff and include some of my faves that i see!!

credit is included with the gifs!!

this one cause it’s a mood:

this one cause this whole scene makes me so fucking soft:

also this one bc i will never get over a) the way even’s eyes are fucking glowing and also the lilt to his voice that you can hear in the gif when he says ‘halla’ listen i am an even bech næsheim stan first and a human being second:

as for skam france, this one bc have u ever seen a boy so in love before?? yeah me neither:

this one bc it takes me back to the first time i saw this scene and it makes me remember holding my breath (maybe not literally, although i really don’t remember..?) for an entire fucking scene!! the pacing!!! the tension!!!!!:

and this one bc everything was okay again in this moment and it was just so tender it makes me soft whenever i think about it they love each other so much what the fuck:

i could link gifs all day but i’m not going to so instead i’m going to tag people!! i tag @lallemants, @oheliotts, @amorgignitamore, @loca-over-luca, and @lowquallife if u guys haven’t done this already!! if u have no worries!!

#tags;#this took me a while but it was a lot of fun!!

9 notes · View notes

fire-emblem-drabbles · 6 years ago

Text

Raffle Prize 1st place: Grima x Reader

@alouvr Here it is! It’s... not exactly what we discussed, sorry, but still, I think you’ll like the way it came out! The minimum word count was 2000 words, and this came out to be just over 2300 words!

Thabes. How the mere word vexed him. To be innocent and curious once more, how ridiculous. To think there was ever a hope for him to benevolent, to be beloved by the children of Naga; even before Naga’s worms came, there was those damn branded children of Mila and Duma. Never given a chance, never a second thought. It may have been the era of men, but Grima would should them what a God not held down by morals could do. What would happen when madness wasn’t your downfall, but your power.

If he couldn’t have their love, he would have their hate.

But still, a single tear; silent yet so meaningful.

All he wanted was to be adored; to grow strong enough to protect those that revered him, receive their praise and bless them in return. But all they saw from the start was a monster, a being neither mortal nor God. Stubborn, jaded hands rubbed at his eyes. The past could not be changed, and the present was meaningless. He only had himself, and that was all he needed.

But… seeing people, together, smiling, laughing. Something in him yearned for that, to feel those petty human emotions and have others feel them because of him. But what did a God need of feeble emotions?

Against his better judgment, he was moving, towards a group of heroes, no less. They were quick to notice and quick to move out of his way.

Grima kept walking.

~*~

Soft footfalls didn’t go noticed by him. Your white robe gave you away before your voice. “Hello, Grima.” So calm, so nice.

“What is it, worm?” He gazed at you with half-lidded eyes. Part of him was excited, amazed, just so happy. Someone came to seek him out, speak with him on their own terms? But he had to remain vigilant; he had trusted once before, and look where that got him.

“Oh well… nothing, really. You just seemed kind of lonely over here, so I wanted to check up on you.” You admitted, a small smile on your face. Surely you were lying; no one ever came up to him without a request, without some selfish wish or idiotic request.

“I’m… alright.” Wary, he watched as you sat with him; not too far, in fact close enough he could reach to touch you if he so desired.

“Oh? That’s good. I know you don’t much like anyone here...” Not quite the correct observation. “but surely there’s something you’d like to speak to? Someone you would want to speak to?” You asked gently, hands folded in your lap. Behind you, Grima saw one of Naga’s favored, that child Lucina, frown and move closer to you. As if he would be stupid enough to try something here, with all these “heroes” around.

“… You’ve been the first.” Why he was honest, he didn’t know. “Other’s have been too scared to approach me,” he added, perhaps too quickly. You nodded and looked over your shoulder upon seeing Lucina coming over.

“Is everything alright Lucina?” You asked sweetly. She paused beside you, and openly glared at Grima. He didn’t care to react; they’re hatred of one another was already well known.

“He’s not bothering you, is he?” How funny he was so wicked to those mortals, they refuse to even name him.

“Hm? No, nothing of the sort Lucina. You won’t have to worry about him, I promise.” You assured her, holding one of her hands. “He’s no more dangerous than any other hero in this army.”

“Be careful _____.” She casually called you by name, quite the opposite of him. You two rather were opposites; you, precious summoner beloved by all and happy to serve and share that love. And he, forgotten god, feared by most and bitter about it all.

With a final squeeze to your shoulder, and one last dirty look sent his way, Lucina left. You spoke once more. “I’m sorry about that, Grima. You shouldn’t have to deal with that here.”

“You’ve done nothing to be sorry for, Summoner.” Had he earned the right to call you by name? He wanted to. A taste of intimacy. “I’m well deserved of her hate, after all.” You nodded, closing your eyes.

“I suppose so...” You didn’t seem fully convinced.

“Out with everything.” He scowled at you, and you glanced away a little.

“I just things had gone differently for you, Grima. You’re such a tragedy.” With nothing more to say, you rose from your seat. Grima was left with your pity, and the silence.

At least he was given something. Maybe one day that pity could be more.

~*~

He was surely a fool for always seeking you out, but it never stopped him from doing it. And you weren’t quite sure why he did it, but you never turned him away. It was hard for him to find you alone, but he always managed to do it. He was a lot like a cat; he wanted to be near you, see what you were doing, maybe play with it a bit. But… he was selective of who he let pet him, it seemed. Even if you felt closer to him, he was wary as always.

“Grima?” You hummed out, still half focused on what you were reading.

“What?” His voice was rough per usual.

“Would you like a hug?” Your eyes lifted from the page, and you smiled at him. Many emotions flickered on his face, and his mouth moved with unspoken words.

“N-no, yes. I-” Your giggle stopped him from further embarrassment.

“I won’t force you.” Instead, you rested your hand over his. Grima couldn’t move an inch. Your hand was so warm compared to his, it was something he never felt. The last time he felt the touch of another, and one so caring at that… It was something he wanted more often, more than this. “But I think you’d like it.”

“Perhaps in the future...” His fingers hesitantly curled around your own, and you smiled returning to looking at your book. Grima tried to return to reading his tome, but he was far too aware of your hand in his.

“You set the date, dear.” Was… that a pet name? Grima feared he was in too deep already, human emotions were far too much, and he wanted them at far more often. How did he like this disgusting crawling feeling in his stomach? “We… should do this more often.” Why was he so nervous? What was this mortal doing to him?

“Well, if you insist… I suppose I can hold your hand more often. Maybe even do it where other heroes can see us.” You squeezed his hand a little and he could swear his heart stopped at your words. A terrible, warm heat was on his face. Mortal vessels were absolutely terrible.

~*~

You did, in fact, hold your hand more often, and you even worked your way up to hugs; Grima was able to hold your comfortably now, and while he would never dare say it in the light of day, or even to your face, you knew he loved it. He was… a little clingy, even. Heroes took notice to your new puppy, who was (only a little) scared to hold your hand around them, but who also needed to do so to face their curious and hateful glances. Who freaked out a bit when you hugged him in sight of others, but also soaked up your touch as well. He was a paradox, wanting your touch so much but still so unversed in how to reciprocate it.

“Hey Grima.” Still together, always touching. He had his arms around your waist, holding you in his lap. His head rested on your shoulder; its possible he fell asleep because you didn’t feel him reading tactics over your shoulder anymore.

“Hm?” You got a sleepy hum in reply. Grima could be cute without realizing it; you were glad he couldn’t see the grin on your face.

“Do you know what a kiss is?” Still too tired to really care, Grima replied.

“Sounds like another useless thing mortals too.” He concluded, not bothering to open his eyes.

“It’s… a more intimate form of touching, like holding hands or hugging. Grima’s eyes shot open. If there was a way to have you closer to him, Grima wanted it.

“Go on.” he said, frowning a little at the giggle you let out. He let you shift in his grasp, turning until you face him. Tactics long forgotten, you placed your hand on his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want this?” You asked, looking into his eyes. How could he explain to you how much he loved your touch? How your hugs made him feel something he couldn’t explain, or how just you holding his hand made him want it for the millennia he missed such contact?

“I want whatever you’re willing to give me _____.” It still felt odd calling you by name, but Grima found it came off his lips rather pleasantly.

“Okay, close your eyes” But still, a little bit of hesitance. Would you be gone when he closed his eyes? Would you take the moment to betray him? Still, he found himself doing it. Eyes closed (too hard; he was scared), hands gripping your waist tightly, you leaned in closer, tilting your head a bit. And then Grima felt it, something gently touch his lips. He was so surprised, his eyes opened and he pulled back. Your own opened and you pulled away too.

“What was that?” he was pouting, you heard a bit of a stutter in his voice too.

“A kiss?” You said, more of a question than an answer. “Did you not like it? I’m sorry I...”

“Do it again.” He demanded.

“O-oh? Okay.” You leaned in closer, once more, closing your eyes and tilting your head once more. Grima mimicked you, only tilting his head the other way. You realized, neither of you really had much experience in doing this… and Grima was counting on you to lead him through this. So once more your lips met his; and you did what you remembered seeing in movies and reading in books. It was a little awkward, no doubt, but his lips felt so nice against yours.

Grima, though, was amazed. So amazed, he nearly forgot to move his lips; but, soon he did, and soon realized why humans wanted to do this so much. One small touch and you were addicting, he couldn’t imagine feelings you closer-- so when you managed to slip your tongue into his mouth, he nearly moaned in pleasure. Who knew the mortals were hiding such earthly pleasures from him?

~*~

“_____,” For once it was Grima who spoke first.

“What is it, love?” You liked watching as he got flustered at your terms of endearment, but it seemed he was getting used to being loved, for he only smiled in return.

“I have something I wish to… explain.” He was careful with his words, not know what was right and what was wrong. Every day waking up with you was a new experience, one he was happy to be a part of. You looked at him expectantly, and he simply sighed, pulling you closer. “You’ve… changed me.” He stated simply.

“I think most of the change was your doing, silly. I’m happy to have helped, though.” Grima shook his head a little.

“I…” He paused a moment, just staring at you. “You make it hard to believe all humans are ugly and selfish beings.” He said softly, one gloved hand coming up to brush some hair out of your face. It trailed down your face, resting softly on your cheek. You rested your own hand over it.

“I’ve always been of the opinion most people are good to begin with. You just had… the misfortune to deal with humanity's worse.” You sighed and shook your head a little.

“Not to say I still don’t think ill of humanity but… you’ve shown me hope that people can be good, and give without hoping to receive in return.” You could tell it was hard for him to admit this, the hand that held your face shook a little.

“What happened to you was… terrible Grima, okay? It was unforgivable, and the way you reacted was… understandable, but not okay.” You admitted. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t work to change.”

“I don’t know if I want to do more changing I… just want a life where I can be happy with you.” His gaze was so soft, his words so sincere. Was this really the fell dragon you first summoned?

“We can have that… but could I ask one selfish thing of you Grima?” You pleaded.

“For you, anything.” His free hand grabbed your free hand, his thumb rubbing circles across your knuckles.

“If you can give me a chance, could you try letting other people in?” Grima frowned a little.

“They have to give up their own prejudice first.” You nodded.

“I’m sure, together, we can make a world where the next generation doesn’t fear the fell dragon but… you for who you are.” Grima pulled you tight for a hug.

“I… only want you to see me this weak; craving your touch, melting from your gazes… it's not something worthless humans have the right to see.”

“I understand Grima… I just want them to know that you’ve changed. You have to give a little in hopes receiving.”

“But what if it happens again?” You’ve never heard Grima so scared, so vulnerable. “What if I give again and only receive their hate in return?” You pulled out the hug, still holding him as he held you. “Why do I have to prove myself to them when it was they who made me the monster I am?” Your heart ached for him, but you could only give him one answer.

“Because they’ve been hurt by you too, and they’re scared. Just as scared as you, probably. Grima, I love you but… the first step is always the hardest.”

#alternative ending: sometimes it be like that #grima x reader #fe grima #fe awakening #feh

244 notes · View notes

timeagainreviews · 6 years ago

Text

5 Moments when Doctor Who SUCKED

Imagine, if you will for a moment, that you are a brand new Doctor Who fan. You don’t even know to call yourself a Whovian yet. You get on a few facebook groups, see a few YouTube videos and discover, much to your dismay, that Doctor Who is, in fact, ruined now. Woe is you who set path down a trail leading toward mediocrity, and eventually utter devastation. I ask you to picture yourself in this manner because I want you to realise that only a person new to Doctor Who would believe such drivel. Everyone else saying this seems to have rose tinted glasses. The rest of us all know that Doctor Who is a show that sometimes requires forgiveness.

Am I saying Doctor Who is a bad show? Not hardly. Much like pizza, Doctor Who is still pretty good, even when it sucks. I would venture to say that one of the things I love most about Doctor Who is how campy and silly it can be at times. Why is it then that so many people are turning their backs on a show that’s filled their lives with so much joy? I’m really trying to avoid the "because sexism," argument. But I can’t help but feel like if you were to switch the Doctor to a male, nobody would be calling the show "ruined." Furthermore, how do you even ruin something that has gone through so many changes throughout the years? Oh right, it’s the Doctor Who fandom. Where the only language allowed is hyperbolic.

Perhaps these fake geeks are mad because making the Doctor a woman takes away their ability to call her a Mary Sue. Especially when you consider the same character once burst out of a golden birdcage and floated to the ground in a wave of Jesus energy. That might mean they’d have to retroactively apply the title to every incarnation. Could the Doctor ever escape the distinction? Unnaturally talented, charismatic, good at everything he does, brilliantly smart. Or is it that these attributes only belong to men? We can believe Tom Baker’s Doctor is capable of walking into a burning furnace to save K9, but hell no, a woman can’t be the Doctor.

You have to face it, Doctor Who has had some terrible moments. Yet we continue to tune in because we forgive it. We forgive when Doctor Who is bad because of the moments when Doctor Who is wonderful. Which I know is how you would describe an abusive partner, but I’m gonna let it slide for a television series. Especially this series. Because unlike that dickhead who never texts you back, Doctor Who can change. If you don’t believe me, please peruse this list of five instances when Doctor Who was terrible.

1. The John Nathan-Turner era

My God, how could I not start with this? While there is no denying there are some wonderful moments in JNT's Doctor Who, it's easily my least favourite era of Doctor Who. And as much as I personally love Colin Baker, his Doctor got the lion's share of poor scripts and erroneous costume choices. Never has a man more game for a role, been dealt such a bad hand.

Introducing a Doctor that was cowardly, and even violent toward his companion, was seen as a bridge too far. While I understand the desire to try something new with the character, this wasn't the way to go about it. While the show begins to pick up around the end of McCoy's tenure, it's evident that this is more the influence of studio notes and the hard work of script editor Andrew Cartmel. I can't think of anyone less suited for the job of showrunner.

It seems that for a good nine years, Doctor Who had a madman at the helm, and not in that cute Matt Smith way. Dressing in flamboyant Hawaiian shirts, Nathan-Turner brought that same brash sensibility to the program. From Six's garish costume, to question mark lapels, to Mel's entire timeline, it's a big fat mess with him sitting in the middle. Add to all of this, the allegations of him being a predatory creep toward young male fans, and it's a surprise the show ever survived. Oh wait, it didn't.

2. Racism

Ok, maybe I should have started with this. While Doctor Who has taken efforts to address its racist past, it still happened. They drop a racist slur in "The Celestial Toymaker." Even the term "celestial," is used to mean "Chinese," in describing the titular character played by the very white Michael Gough, fully clad in Oriental silks. This tradition follows into "The Talons of Weng-Chiang," when Li H'sen Chang was played by John Bennett.

It's an uncomfortable miracle that they didn't allow Patrick Troughton to play the role of the Second Doctor in brownface. Not to say his era escaped the odd bit of racism. While Toberman in "Tomb of the Cybermen," gets a few heroic moments, he also gets none of the lines. Cast as mute manservant, we learn nothing about the inner workings of a black man who died so that white people may live.

Later, the show used characters like Ace to talk about racism. She shows disgust with a "No Coloureds," sign hanging in the boarding house she's staying in. When the evil Morgaine had her under mind control, it was calling her friend Ling Tai "yellow," and "slant-eyed," that she was able to snap out of it. Real Ace would never say such things. But even with that groundwork laid, the new series still struggles. From the Doctor being weirdly dismissive toward black people, to it taking nearly 50 years for the first black TV companion, Doctor Who is still grappling with its race issues. Yet you all kept watching.

3. Ace gets molested

This one is a bit of a lesser known infraction as it takes place in the books after the show had already been cancelled. Kicking off the Virgin Media "New Adventures," is 1991's "Timewyrm: Genesys," by John Peel. In it, the Doctor and Ace travel to ancient Mesopotamia, where they meet King Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh wastes no time going full blown creep, groping Ace and pawing at her like he was Joe Biden.

The Doctor's reaction to this is to tell Ace to just go with it, and that it's part of the culture. While I agree that, yes, Gilgamesh may not be the sophisticated modern man that hugs a bro and supports equal pay, the Doctor's reaction is some straight up bullshit. If you're going to go there, maybe try saying something with it other than "Women are men's property." This could have been a great opportunity for the Doctor to puff up and use Gilgamesh's own primitive mindset against him. "How dare you touch my woman!" the very tiny Doctor could say to the very tall man. It would have been a funny visual, mixed with the Doctor utilising male privilege in a way that helps his companion.

This is really an objection I have against most of John Peel's work. He writes women in that "she boobed boobily," manner. Much to my dismay, Peel is one of the sole writers of the Dalek books, so any time you want to enjoy a tale involving our enemies from Skaro, you have to also partake in his brand of women. I'm talking women being described as buxom babes with shoulder length blonde hair, voices like baby goddesses, and legs up to their neck. While on the other hand, we get men described as having a hat and probably some other features. I may be embellishing, but seriously, John Peel, your women suck. Yet it still spawned a rather large book series.

4. Minuet in Hell

Doctor Who has never been known to nail accents. Tegan is vaguely Australian. And Peri must have moved around a lot due to the fact that nothing about her American accent sounds like a regional dialect. That doesn't mean that Robert Jezek's Foghorn Leghorn meets the KFC Colonel performance as " Brigham Elisha Dashwood III," is any less painful. But bad accents aside, the biggest demon in this Big Finish audio is one of Doctor Who's oldest enemies- sexism!

While I understand that Charlotte Pollard may be a fan favourite among many Big Finish listeners, her character will forever be tainted for me, and it's all due to this story. In it, Charlotte, or Charley, gets literally human trafficked. They kidnap her, force her to wear lingerie in a very creepy and misguided attempt to add some sexiness to the story and force her to wait on rich businessmen at a casino.

Now, allow me to clarify, it's not the human trafficking that taints her in my eyes. People who get trafficked are victims, obviously. What bothers me is that neither Gary Russell or Alan W Lear thought to give her a single line of dialogue where she protests. She doesn't even complain a little. Sure, the Doctor often gains intel by getting captured, but this is ridiculous. Add this to the weird disjointed story, and "Minuet in Hell," easily serves as one of the lowest points in not just Big Finish history, but Doctor Who as a whole.

5. Sexism

(Image by Billy Darswed)

It makes the most sense that this is the last one on the list. Because let's be honest, it's a huge problem in the fandom. A lot of early Doctor Who audios and books smack of moments when it feels as though the writers never considered the existence of female fans. Women are often utilised as a means to make the Doctor look better, and for the baddies to look scarier. Mind you, it's not always been a pantheon of swooners and screamers. We got the occasional Sarah Jane, Leela, and Ace.

Even the strong women are long-suffering. Liz Shaw (and her real-life actress Caroline John) left the role of companion over sexism. Beginning her time on Doctor Who as UNIT's top scientific advisor, she was demoted to assistant, holding beakers for the male Doctor who stole her job. The Fourth Doctor acted similarly when telling Romana her qualifications had nothing on real life experience. The same excuse has been used for decades to keep educated women out of the workforce. "Come back when you've got some experience, sweetheart."

While Rose Tyler was a refreshingly real character with a family and life of her own, it doesn't mean that she wasn't horribly mismanaged. In "The Stolen Earth," we see a darker, more serious version of her character. The Rose we used to know is now fully devoted toward one mission and one mission only- getting her man back. It's as though her personality disappears and is fully dependent on having the Doctor in her life. She rises to greatness so that she might bask in his once more. Maybe it's romantic, but maybe it's bad writing.

If you were to ask me who my favourite Doctor Who writers are, I'd have to say Robert Holmes is up there, and he wrote "Talons of Weng-Chiang," a serial full of yellowface. I'd also say Russell T Davies, who wrote the aforementioned "Stolen Earth," and also saw it in his wisdom to turn Shirley Henderson's "Ursula," into a blowjob dispensing garden brick. Or even Steven Moffat who believes the Statue of Liberty could sneak around New York, undetected, and that nobody notices his predilection toward dominatrix women in stiletto heels.

In my review for "The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos," I quipped that Chris Chibnall had not yet written a truly great episode of Doctor Who. However, since "Resolution," I can no longer say such a thing. I may even go as far as to say it's one of the best Dalek episodes ever. It would seem then that, given enough time, he could become a great showrunner. And it seems that given enough time, any writer, yourself included, could one day write the latest "worst episode ever."

Every new era has had its stumbles. Not every Doctor gets it correct 100% of the time. Capaldi decided he was the kind of Doctor to exit through the window, a trait we never saw again. The Fifth Doctor decided to sleep his way through his first adventure. The Eighth Doctor was "human on his mother's side." And Ten took so long to regenerate that I'm beginning to think it was old age, and not radiation that did him in. If you can look at all of these stupid, stupid moments and still say you love Doctor Who, then maybe, just maybe, you can get over a bit of spotty writing, like you always have. Or is it still the female Doctor thing? Oh...

#doctor who #tardis #thirteenth doctor #chris chibnall #time and time again #Jodie Whittaker

5 notes · View notes

smilerforyou · 6 years ago

Text

Stitched by the Hand

A/N: I’m back bitches! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written fic! Enjoy!

Stitched by the Hand (Gale/Madge) (Victorian Era, London)

East London was the called the “darkest London” for a reason. Poverty raged everywhere one looked because of the increase in population in London since the Industrial Age begun and slums thrived off the poor. Smoke billows out of chimneys of sweatshops, black and dirty with grim and the smell of dirty sweat perspiring off the workers inside. A boy with short, black hair, long limbs, and handsome face works diligently with his right hand as he wipes the sea of sweat off his forehead. He makes neat stitches into the thick, glossy fabric of silk and pinches the fabric together with the other hand. He thanks god – if there is a god – that the fabric is dark and none of the rich posh Londoners would see the sweat stains lingering along the inseam. His stitches are precise and quick, every fourth stitch doubled. He’s required to make 12 pairs of pants per hour, which gives him exactly five minutes per pair, two and half minutes per leg.

He wipes sweat from his hairline again and finds his forehead warmer than usual. Although sweatshop’s temperatures run high with the bodies so closely packed together, his body feel weighted down and his face warmer than he’d like. Cholera is going around like wild fire through the slums and sweatshops, burning through people like crazy. He worries he’s caught the disease. His stomach drops and his visions goes unsteady for a moment as furnace puffs out another wavy of hot air.

“Gale!” someone shouts across the room. He turns around in his seat to look at the man – the owner in his slim cut suit and newly polished shoes – waves him over. Gale’s heart speeds up a little in his chest as he sets his fabric down on the crowded table, shoving the needle through the inseam so he doesn’t lose it before getting up. He pushes passed people sitting on the floor sewing dresses, not even bothering to say excuse me, only watching carefully where he places his feet so he doesn’t step on a dress. He hurries as fast as he can to the owner, who Gale didn’t even bother learning his name, but the man’s foot just taps faster and faster the longer it takes Gale to rush through the crowd. “This way,” the man says once Gale has arrived by his side. He doesn’t even offer a good morning or afternoon – Gale had no way of knowing what time it is because there isn’t any clocks around – before pushing passed the doors that lead to the stairwell.

The stairwell of made of rusted metal and squeaked every time someone stepped foot on it. Gale tries his best to make his footsteps from sounding so harsh, but it was nearly impossible to do such a thing. His boss walks up the stairs, never once looking back to see if Gale was following him, tapping his cane twice on every step. It wasn’t that the man needed the cane. He was physically fit and almost nearing middle aged. Gale believed that the man just liked the sound of noise he produced and why not add the sharp click of a cane on the ground. Also – although Gale had no proof of this – he could use it as a weapon against workers who didn’t do what they were supposed to. That’s why Gale’s heart pounds now. He fears the man knows he’s sick or is unhappy that Gale only produces 12 pairs of pants every hour instead of more. Although the pay is shit, Gale needs this job.

“Have a seat.” The man says as they enter an office. One wooden stool sits in the middle of the room and velvet couches line the walls. Gale knows without asking that he should not sit on the velvet couches. Velvet is for rich people, not invisible people like himself. He sits down slowly on the stool, testing its durability. When it stays standing he places his full weight on the chair. He doesn’t say anything and neither does his boss. He keeps his eyes downcast and listens to the only clock in the room tick, tick, tickthe seconds away. He holds his breath and counts off the seconds gone that pushes him further behind on his count of 12. If he spends 15 minutes in this office, he’ll have three pairs of pants that need sown and sown well, done in nonexistent time. He’s screwed. Especially since the rule was if you don’t met quota, you don’t get paid for a week. His family had already gone a week without food, they couldn’t go another week. Damn it, he is so screwed.

A knock resonates through the room and Gale whips his head up to look at who it is. His stomach drops than tightens instantly when he sees a man in a white lab coat with a red bag in his hand. A medic. If Gale could run away, he’d do it down. But he can’t.

“Gale, this is Dr. Melbourne, Dr. Melbourne, this is him.” The boss introduces.

“Ah, he’s the one you were talking about.” His boss nods, “Well, son, strip down.”

“What?” Gale squeaks out. His voice doesn’t even sound like his own, it sounds like a long distance voice that could belong to a female, not himself. Definitively not himself.

“Strip down, like naked.” The doctor says, looking amused. The doctor waves Gale’s boss out of the room and gestures for Gale to begin stripping. He closes the door behind him and sets his bag down on the desk. Gale folds his clothes neatly at his feet and waits as Dr. Melbourne examines him and moves his limbs different ways. A fine line of sweat beads form on his forehead again. Dr. Melbourne offers him a handkerchief. Gale accepts it and dabs at his forehead.

“Well,” Dr. Melbourne speaks as he picks up Gale’s raggedly thin clothes and hands them back to him, “You don’t have measles or mumps, but I’m going to have to take your temperature. Please get dressed and sit on the stool.” Gale does as he’s told and sits patiently as Dr. Melbourne goes through his bag. He places a tool Gale has no idea the name of against his chest, over his heart and listens. “Are you nervous, or does your heart always pound this hard.” Gale says nothing, his tongue is too thick in his mouth. Dr. Melbourne pulls back and looks Gale deeply in his eyes. The doctor’s blue eyes remind Gale of ocean water, and Gale’s eyes remind the doctor of the dirty water floating through the Thames River, “That’s a serious question…Gale.” He says as he reads the name off Gale’s report.

“Nerves,” Gale whispers out.

Melbourne nods and marks something on the paper. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Oh, but there is. Gale has no idea why he’s here and what will come of it, but if the doctor finds anything at all, Gale’s done for. He can’t pay any sort of bill, let alone a hospital bill, and he can’t lose his job because he’s already behind in payments on everything.

“Have you been experiencing diarrhea or dehydration?” Gale shakes his head no, but he’s lying. He knows those are symptoms of cholera. “Well, you have a fever and I know you’re lying.”

“I’m fine, sir.” Gale croaks out.

“Oh you wish you were fine!” the doctor says. “If this isn’t treated, Gale, you could infect the whole business, or worse…it could kill you.”

“I’m fine.” Gale says again. He can’t lose his job. He can’t lose his job.

The man jabs a finger into Gale’s abdomen lightly and Gale tries not to wince, but he can’t. It hurts badly. Another symptom: abdominal pain.

“You have cholera.”

“No I don’t.” Gale says, but the doctor only pushes harder against Gale’s stomach. His entire body stiffens and the seconds later a metal trashcan in placed between his knees, seconds before the vomit comes up.

“Yes. You do,” the doctor says, and Gale can’t do anything about it. A fourth symptom: vomiting. Gale continues to puke into the bucket as the doctor leaves. Tears spring to his eyes because he knows exactly what this means…they have to fire him. He sobs into the bucket and vomits every few minutes. He finds he’s been doing this a lot lately…puking. Once he starts, he doesn’t stop for a while.

His boss comes in and places a hand on Gale’s shoulders, mindful not to touch the skin where the large shirt moved off his shoulder. “I’m going to have to let you go, Hawthorne. Best of luck. You can stay as long as you need the trashcan for” Then he leaves. Gale wishes he never had to leave this trashcan.

“Treatment options include –“ But Gale doesn’t let him finish.

“I don’t have money. Can’t you tell?”

“Then I can’t help you if you can’t spare a dime.”

“I’d buy food faster than medical care.”

“Best of luck to you; you’re going to need it.” And then he leaves too. And Gale let’s go and cries and pukes into a trash for an hour. He’s so damn screwed.

Madge’s mother, Victoria’s, booming voice commanded the hallway outside of Madge’s door. The Prime Minister is in for a short visit, something Madge would usually listen in on, but not today. All Madge can focus on is the dirty, awful smell wafting in through the air vents. Madge’s mother may be the Queen of England during what is considered one of England’s greatest eras, but even she can’t get control the way the city smells. It’s horrible and it’s constantly being filtered through every home and business, and the country can’t escape the smell of death and gross, trashy smell.

As the Industrial Age further booms, the Thames’ clean water diminishes to sewage backup. The streets are littered with garbage and sickly homeless people who haven’t had a clean shower in weeks. They smell like the river does, because that’s the source of water big enough for them to wash themselves off in, only they’re washing themselves in contaminated water. Madge’s mother tells her to stay away from the slums because of cholera and she does as much as possible.

Madge wrinkles her nose and tries to block out the smell as she applies makeup onto her neck and chest. The skin colored powder dusts her skin lightly and covers the series of freckles littering her chest. She makes the mistakes of taking a deep breath, instantly regretting it.

A knock clicks harshly into her bedroom and in walks her brother, elegant as ever. He’s wearing a dark blue suit with brown leather shoes and a striped tie. He looks dashing, but he always does. It’s something that Madge as always envied of her brother. He is complete perfection with his chiseled cheekbones and jaw, slender but strong frame, ocean blue eyes, and his porcelain skin. Madge is slender like him, but she appears just small; and her eyes are ordinary blue, and her skin is littered with sparely scattered freckles.

“Walk with me, sister?” he asks in his deep London accent. She nods and gathers her things.

They walk aimlessly towards nowhere, but Madge knows exactly where this “nowhere” will lead. The slums. There’s a girl with glossy black hair and gray eyes that her brother is infatuated with as of recently and every time they go for a “walk” it’s just to see her, even if she doesn’t notice them. Her brother, Daine, insists that the girl notices them, but poor old Daine doesn’t realize it’s just because Royals are walking around the other side of town. It definitely isn’t because the girl is infatuated with her brother. But it isn’t Madge’s job to break his spirit; the universe would do that soon enough.

“There she is!” he whispers loudly. He points excitedly toward her. She glances their way, worry blazing in her eyes, before she returns to the conversation she’s having with a girl a few years younger than her. Madge nods and pushes her brother a little further away from the pair to give the girl space, but she doesn’t look away. Especially when a boy with bright red cheeks and the back of his hand pressed firmly against his forehead stops at the command of the girl’s hand. They share a glance at the Royals before the grow deep into a conversation that the boy seems to want nothing to do with. He tugs lightly against the restraint provided by the girl’s arms.

“Maybe you should go talk to her?” Madge suggests the second the boy disappears behind a building. She doesn’t look at her brother when she says it, but he follows her line of sight.

“Oh, Madgie, do you have a crush on the boy?” he smiles wickedly.

“No!”

“Maybe you should get involved with him, they are quite lovely people once you get to know them.”

“Mom told us to stay away from them, remember? We aren’t even supposed to be here.”

“Go.” He whispers in her ear as he pushes her toward the building the boy disappeared behind. Once Madge’s feet start going they don’t stop until she finds him. He’s farther up the alley, leaning – more like sagging like a wilted flower – against the wall. His breathing is heavy and from his body she can tell he’s distressed.

She lightly touches his tricep and is surprised to find it lined with hard, beautiful muscle. He jumps back, his eyes wide. “I didn’t steal anything, I swear!” Immediately, it springs off his lips.

“I know you didn’t.” she says softly, lifting her own hands to her face. “Are you alright?”

“Am Ialright?” his expression is nothing short of bewilderment. And when she nods, he looks utterly shocked and taken aback. “No,” he says simply and harshly, no elaboration or explanation, but a sharp no. She waits a few moments for him to say something. Most people don’t say no unless they want to continue. His expression hardens like molten lava, “Do you really think I’d tell you?”

“You don’t have too.” She’s trying to be kind, but curiosity burns in her veins. Her mother always told her that was one of her downfalls.

“But you expect me too.”

“You don’t have too,” she says again.

He sags against the wall and leans his head down pitifully. “I’m dead.”

Madge huffs out air, “You don’t look very dead.”

“I might as well be.” He grumbles. He grips his head in that moment, a moment full of pure distress. Despite the dirty ground, Madge kneels beside him.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t!” he nearly yells. His eyes check both sides of the street again before looking back at her. She notices the boy’s eyes are a wonderful shade of gray and it nearly takes her breath away looking at them.

They are so close together that Madge barely breathes, “Why not?” she asks and she swears she can feel his hot breath spread across her lips.

“It can’t be fixed.”

“Nothing is ever truly broken.”

“No,” he says, “but sometimes it cannot be used again.”

She looks at him then, reallylooks at him. His cheeks are rosy and his gray eyes – despite beautiful – are dull and lifeless. His body sags against the wall and his hands rest uncomfortably against his stomach. It’s like a pregnant woman holding her stomach, but he holds it like it hurts. Then it clicks, he’s sick. He has cholera.

“You are sick.”

“Thanks for stating the obvious.”

“Come with me,” she whispers, her lace gloved hand briefly touches his wrist.

He whips his head around so fast she fears she’ll get whiplash from just watching it. “Trust me or I’ll make it an executive order.”

He follows, even though his mind screams no. His heart…his heart, maybe just a little, says yes.

“Madge! You cannot be serious!” her brother nearly screeches at her in the back room of the kitchen. “You brought him here!”

“Yes! Now will you quiet down a little before the chefs hear you! I cannothave mom finding out!”

Her brother’s eyes bulge out of his head and he gives her the have-you-lost-your-mindlook. “Please!” she nearly begs him, “Just…Just keep it quiet! It’s just for a few days!”

“Madge!” he says again.

“Daine!” she takes his arms in his hands, “You told me to interact with them.”

He shakes his head, “I didn’t mean bring them home with you! What’s next, you going to invite him into your bed?”

She glares so hard at her brother, “Don’t be silly. What do you think I am? A prostitute?” He says nothing and that’s more hurtful than if he just said yes. Tear spring to her eyes and shakes her head. “I can’t believe you, I just cannot believeyou.” She says.

“Madge, you know I didn’t mean it.” He tries to mend his angry notion, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“If it’s not, don’t think mom won’t know about your black haired beauty within minutes.”

“You’ll be staying here, for the time being. I’m sorry it’s not the best place, but it’s the only place I know the palace staff won’t go.”

If they were going off Gale’s opinion, his room is a palace within the palace. It is sparsely furnished, with only a bed, a small dresser, a washing bucket, and chair. The bed doesn’t even have sheets on it yet. The stone walls emit a cool air that chills his fevered body to the bone. A chill runs up his back. They both pretend they don’t see it.

“I will go get you bedding and clothing and be down as soon as possible.”

It’s silent for a long while. Gale stares at her. Her dress has crystals sown into the silk fabric, and it was clearly sown by a machine, not by worn out hands like Gale’s. She stares at the ground and smoothens out her dress, and he feels like he should say something, but the words won’t reach his tongue.

“Well I should go before mother starts questioning Daine about my whereabouts.”

He nods and watches her walk out. He tries to force any word from his mouth but nothing comes. It isn’t until she’s probably forgotten him that he whispers, “Thank you.”

Madge grips her hair as she sits on her bedroom floor, her dress fanned out around her. What does she have that a boy could plausible wear? And she sure as hell knows Daine won’t let her borrow any of his clothes.

“Think, Madge, think.”

“M’am?” her servant, Primrose, says as she enters the room, “Are you alright? Should I fetch a royal doctor?”

Madge drops her hands. “Oh goodness, no. I’m quite alright. I’m just at a loss of ideas.”

“Anything I can help with, m’am?”

“Unless you can find me a pair of trousers and loose shirt, I don’t believe you can.” she laughs under her breath.

Prim stands there in silence for a moment, studying the frenzied princess. She kneels before the princess. “I could always borrow clothes from my sister’s best friend and bring them to you.”

Madge snaps her head up, “You would do that?”

“Anything for you, your highness.” They stare at each other for a moment. “Are you planning on going out in disguise as a boy?”

“Something like that.” Madge winks. “I can’t involve you too much.”

Gale takes a deep breath. If he can keep the vomit done, it will save him a lot of time and energy. He’s already puked more than he wanted to today and the wash basin is already three-fourths of the way full from just this afternoon. He holds his stomach tightly as sweat rolls off his whole body into the thin mattress.

If he wasn’t in so much pain, he would have left the palace already. He doesn’t know what he was thinking in the first place! He has a familyat home that must be wondering where he is! And he lost out on another week’s pay. How was his family supposed to survive? How were they going to buy food to feed the children? His mother’s seamstress work wasn’t very fruitful right now and they really relied on Gale’s measly paycheck to pay rent and buy a few days rations.

His vision blurs as his stomach rolls again. His heart races in his chest to the point of being painful. He feels like he’s been cast out to sea in the middle of the rainstorm. The waters are so turbulent they roll viciously through the open space, and the rain is so heavy that nothing is visibly, and he’s soaking wet and cold.

He rolls to his side and releases the turbulent waves from his stomach, not even checking to see if he made it in the bucket. His body racks as his dispels the disease from his body. His vision is nearly black, with heavy spots moving before his eyes. He feels like his soul is leaving his body.

His stomach collapses in on itself, nothing left but phlegm and stomach acid to throw up. Every muscle in his body seizes with vigor. His can hear his labored breath heavy in his ears but he can’t feel his body heaving for air. And he feels a weight settle first in his chest, slowing spreading throughout his whole body until it feels like hot stones sitting on him. He eyelids are like iron, dropping shut and so very heavy to open again. The coals burn his skin even more and the paths the sweat beats leave on his skin ignites a firework of pain.

And he still can’t see.

And every moment the blackness consume him even more.

And every second that passes his wishes to see the Princess’ full lips and almond shaped eyes framed with the longest lashes he had ever seen again.

“Stay here,” Madge orders Prim. Madge had changed out of her dress into a simple loose white nightgown while Prim hurried back to the Seam to gather her sister’s friend’s clothes. “I’ll be back. If anyone asks for me, tell them I’m bathing and must not be disturb.”

“Yes, m’am. Would you like help changing?”

“No.”

Madge slips through the nearest service staircase, hidden by secret doors all over the palace. She races down the stairs, her bare feet slapping on the pavement like raindrops on the cobblestone in a rainstorm. She slips through the corridors with ease, her feet remembering every twist and turn from all the times her and Daine played hide-and-seek as children.

One last corner and her hands slam against the door. The wooden door break practically rattles out it’s weak frame, shaking open. She slips in and closes it softly behind her.

“I’m ba–“ she stops short. Hanging half off of the bed in a puddle of his own vomit was the boy. He was mumbling under his breath some nonsense and his pupils, she could see as she approached him, are dilated. The black pupil almost completely covering the gray.

Her knees slam against the stone floor, not even feeling the cold seeping into her bones.

Against her better judgement, her grabs his sweaty face, pulling his delusional eyes toward her.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” God, why is she even asking him that?

He moans a response.

Her heart beats rapidly in her chest. She can’t move. All she can do is stare into his soulless eyes and cry. Her heart sinking in her chest.

What was she supposed to do now?

She was all alone with a sick boy she didn’t know how to save.

White and gold swims in front of his eyes and a sweet melodic voice sings in his ear. His knows it’s her voice, even though his vision is still blurry. This time his heart beats faster for other reasons than the cholera raging in his body. Her fingers are smooth against his rough skin. They feel like silk.

He can’t hear what she’s saying, but he tries to tell her, but only a moan slips passed his lips. He tries to focus on her face, but his eyes are miles and miles away from where his body lies.

Raindrops touch his skin, soft and slow at first, until it turns into a drizzle. How amazing is it that it rains inside the palace.

It isn’t until one splashes against his lips and he tastes the salt that he realizes sometimes raindrops can be tears falling from someone else’s clouds.

She drags his body back on the bed. His slick skin almost slipping pass her hands several times. She feels like time is an empty thing. It only fills the void when there’s nothing else. It only runs out of sand too quickly when time is the most precious.

Time is indiscriminate.

Time does not care if there is a boy dying in the basement of the palace in the Princess’ arms.

Time does not care if he lives or dies, or whether her heart breaks in two or not.

Time only gives you an unknown amount of seconds to do somethings with.

And Madge’s allotted time to save him is so miniscule she could blink and it would have slipped between her fingers.

She can’t blind. Not now. Not when she risked so much to bring him here, to save him.

She pushes his body against the wall and rushes from the room. She runs into the walls and falls up the stairs in her attempt to make it to anyone, to someone who could help. She knows she can’t say anything, but she doesn’t have a choice. She can’t let him slip through her fingers.

“Prim!” she screams, “Prim!”

Her bedroom door opens before she’s even halfway down the hallway. Prim’s eyes are wide with fear and alarm, her hair tangled like she fell asleep.

“Prim, I need your help!”

Daine’s door open across from Prim. He stumbles out, rubbing his eyes. “What is happening?”

“Come! Come! He’s dying!”

Prim starts, her face slackening in despair, “Who?”

“Oh the sick boy from the slums she decided to bring home.” Daine grumbles as they follow Madge down the hallway.

“He’s not infected with cholera, is he?” Daine shoots her a look, “Oh dear,” she whispers, “Let me grab supplies.”

In and out. His vision wanes on blackness so dark his body shivers in fear.

In and out.

In and out. He can hear his exaggerated breathing shallow in his ears.

In and out.

He feels death approaching. The blackness is starting to take over his body. His skin feels cold, his tongue dry as a bone, his mind dull and void of thought, and the weight of his own bones are becoming too much.

In and out.

“Oh dear,” Dane whispers the second Madge pushes open the door. “Oh dear, god.”

Tears stream down Madge’s face. “Daine…” she whispers, “Daine…how do we save him?”

She watches him stare at the dying boy in the corner of the room. “I don’t know if we can.”

Madge creeps over to the bed and sits on it, gently reaching out for the boy’s hand. Her thumbs rubs softly against his hand. She hopes he can feel her skin against his. If they really cannot save him, she wants him to know he did not pass alone, that he will not pass unknown like so many others who died in alleyways and river beds.

“What is his name? Did you ever find out?” Daine whispers, still hovering on the threshold, his hand covering his mouth.

“Gale,” Prim says as she enters the room. “Oh my god, Gale,” she whales.

She drops the medical supplies and bedding on the ground and rushes over to him. Her hands instantly go to his face, sliding down to his chest where she grips his soaking wet shirt. Her body bows over his. Seconds later, her body racks with sobs.

Madge and Daine look at each other.

“Gale?” Madge whispers, her hand tangling in Prim’s locks.

Prims shifts to lean against Madge. She wipes at her eyes and nose before mustering up the finest of whispers, “I went to get his clothes from my sister tonight. She had said he didn’t come home tonight. She never mentioned that he’s infected,” she sniffles, “What will his family do without him? They won’t survive.”

Madge’s heart sinks in her chest. Here laid a boy that meant his family’s survival. And he was dying.

The world was unfair.

Madge swallowed hard. “What do we do to cure him.”

Prim sobbed harder. “This is no cure. Rarely do they live after the infection sets in.”

“He’s too far gone, isn’t he?” Daine whispers? His skin is so ghostly white, he appears as if he might faint.

“More than likely, yes.”

“No! No!” Everyone looks at Madge, “No, we must try. He cannot die.”

“Madge…” Daine starts.

“Water…” Prim cuts him off, “Cholera rapidly dehydrates the body to the point of shock. Our only change is to rehydrate him as fast as possible. I also stole the antibiotics from the medical ward.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“No,” she sniffles, “But we must try.”

Daine leaves the room to get pails of water and a glass. Prim goes with him to help, which leaves Madge to undress him and change his clothes.

For a lady of her standing, she is slightly scandalized to be removing a boy’s clothes, especially in such a state. What if he does not want her to see his naked body? What if she had impure thoughts upon seeing his body? This was so unladylike.

He won’t live if you don’t, Madge.

So she tenderly went to work at his clothing, starting with his shirt. She slowly undoes the threading at the time to make neck wider and easier to pull over his head. Next she tugs at the bottom of the shirt, near his start of his pants, to untuck it from his trousers. Slowly, his skin begins to appear. His skin is darker than hers, tan as far as tan goes in London’s cloudy atmosphere. Oh goodness, he has faint tan lines!

She could only imagine him in his backyard, wearing nothing from a skimpy undershirt. She could only imagine his looking up to the sun and wiping his brow as his skin soaked up the rays from the sunshine.

She gulps and eases the shirt over his head, using one arm to hug his body to her chest so his shoulders and head wouldn’t get caught around the shirt. His head lolled back against her wrist, and she watches as his eyelashes brush against his cheekbones.

Next she undoes his shoes, throwing them careless onto the floor. She’s surprised to find that he does adorn socks. And next his trousers. Her face heats as her fingers flick open the button. She moves quickly to his ankles, trying to tug them off as far away from his hips as possible, but it’s all in vain. She has to roll his trousers down over his hips and around his butt before she can easily tug them off.

She stops short of pulling off his underwear. The white cotton is almost clear with sweat. Madge looks over to the pile of clothing Prim gave her earlier, on top laid a pair of underwear.

She takes a deep breath, clothes her eyes and tugs them off, she stares at his ankles as she rolls the new ones on. She lets out the breath she held and looks at the door. Oh how unladylike that just was. A Princess undressing a semiconscious man.

He groans and she nearly jumps from her spot on the bed.

Prim and Daine comes back with pails of water moments later and slowly but surely they pour water into his mouth. At first he throws up everything for hours and Madge’s heart sinks in her chest. Eventually, he begins to hold it down, and Madge’s finally starts slowing.

It seems like the solid black covering his eyes slowly turns to a dusting of gray spots blinding him. He feels the thin mattress under his body again and the coldness of the room seeping into his warm body. And he can hear the faint voices of three different whispers.

He opens his eyes to a dim, candle lit room. It takes a moment for his eyes to settle and when they do they land on the Princess. Her hand lays on his bare chest, but she’s not looking at him. He grunts as he moves to sit up and she startles, a deep rose blush painting her cheeks.

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry.” She whispers.

Gale doesn’t say anything. He just stares at her. Her blonde waves are flat against her face, and her dull blue eyes look even duller with exhaustion. But what surprises him the most is her attire. She wears a simple white shirt and a pair of dark brown trousers with something off about them.

She looks simple and poor in her outfit. It is built for someone like him, not someone as important as her. Yet, she wears the clothing like she shouldn’t be in anythingbut that.

She sits down hurriedly when he reaches for his face. Her fingertips absentmindedly touching his cheeks, featherlight. Her blue eyes bore into his. “Are you alright? Are you feeling any better?”

He’s too afraid to speak in fear that she’ll remove her hands from his face. His skin tingles gloriously underneath her light touch. Eventually, he nods.

Her shoulders release their tension in relief and her hands drop to his collarbones. “I didn’t think you would make it,” she whispers.

She moves her hands to her lap, her fingers running over each other. He can feel her gaze on him, but he keeps his on her hands. She had long pianist hands that small marks like papercuts littering them. She wore a small silver ring in the shape of a star on her middle finger. His eyes trail up her arm, following the stitches in the trousers as he went.

That’s when he spots it. The double stitch on every fourth stitch.

“I made those pants.” He looks up at her. Her nose wrinkles slightly as her hands spread along the stitching.

“What?” she whispers.

He grabs her hand and traces her fingers along the stitching, pausing at every fourth stitch.

“The stitching is mine. The fourth stitch identified me. It’s how they knew my count at the end of the day.”

How did his pants end up in the royal household?

“I guess you were just supposed to be a part of my story, stitched together by the hand of fate.”

He looks up, his hand still in hers. He feels her intertwine their hands together.

“Maybe so,” he whispers, their faces so close together that their noses almost touch.

And there, in the basement of Buckingham Palace, two fates intertwine once and for all.

A/N: FFN, Gadge: the Mini Stories, Ch31: Stitch of by Hand

Feel free to jump over to FFN and drop a comment or leave a reply here!

#gadge #hunger games #fanfiction #stitched by hand #chapter 31 #gadge: the mini stories #writing #thg #gale hawthorne #madge undersee #I'm back bitches!

22 notes · View notes