#<- eh? in reference to like 2 things? I’m dancing the edge here

[chimerahyperfix]

You are a scientist. You like testing theories, making hypothesis. Working with dangerous materials that get you scolded. You are a scientist, and you are also a writer! You’ve swung at a few things before: sappy poems, work papers, crab, you’ve even attempted a horror short at Mirabelle’s inquiry. You’re favorite thing to write, though, are just basic letters.

You like to write letters. It's easier, to you, to write your thoughts on a piece of paper and hide it somewhere the recipient can find than to tell them what you think face-first. You’ve done it for years, long before you even came to the House to learn about the Change religion. A childhood habit that’s rolled over through your life like a wave on the sea.

So, of course, when time begins to loop, you write. Many, many letters. They all get lost to time when it twists back, and now, many loops in, that leaves a hole in your heart and a spot in your brain you can’t itch, for the words of each letter are mostly forgotten before you fight the King. It’s… fine, you guess? You can word things as many ways as you need to. Anything described can be described some more, after all.

For the first handful of loops, you wrote the same letters. Rather sappy, lovey things, your specialty. The furthest depths of your heart smeared onto a page for eternity, for you love and love and love, and you want those around you to know it.

Though as time trudges on, the same twenty four hours over and over in a nice single circuit built for it to run through, built by wishes and stars and twisted leaf-baring branches, so do your thoughts; therefore your letters move so, too, to adapt. More theoretical things. Questions. Ifs, ands ors buts and whys. Sadder ones after the bad loops, wailing and endlessly upset and mourning those who froze and those who were killed for standing in the King's way.

They get angrier as time goes on. More enraged. Wrath melts into the corners, edges fold and tear and warp under the weight. You stop delivering them, because you're here in this time loop hell to protect the ones you love, and you'd just make it worse if you gave them a letter like that.

You write a scathing letter, once. You write it after an absolutely abysmal loop, ending with blood and tears and probably the loudest you've ever screamed. It flows onto the page easily, and you leave it out on your desk, because you were hungry and hadn't eaten that loop with how beside yourself stressed you were.

Mirabelle finds it. Asks you, quite worried, if you're okay. You must've said something, and it had to be bad, because she flinched away from you like you'd tried to light her ablaze.

You panicked. Time looped.

Never again.

You hide them, after that. Shoved in your pillowcases or in piles of books, stacks of other papers. In the barrels. When you write only one or two you shove them in a bottle and push them to the back of your potions.

You're a shedding snake, a leopard changing its spots. Time is your prisoner and you are it's, and that melts into you as a human being until you are flesh and blood and twenty four hours that shouldn't continue.

Words spill from you, your mind, onto the page. You don't read them anymore. Just write and write and write, and tuck them away and pray no one finds them. You long for the days you could sit and write sappy love letters-- and sometimes, you still do them, but they're tinged with something, regret or rage or the absolute despair you feel, they're wrong, so they're tucked away as well. Letters just wrong, noticeably so. You’d be asked what’s wrong. Cornered. You can hear it now, “What’s wrong? What does this mean?” And all you can think of is the horrors you’ve seen.

One of these loops, whenever you get out, you expect to have a pile of ramblings with time-burnt letters and tear-stained edges. Whenever you get out, if there are any, you'll burn them. As a rite of passage, or something. A Change. Because time changed you, and the less people have to know about it the better. You can't get rid of your rotten voice or the tiredness in your bones or the way your brain has twisted to think, but you CAN get rid of letters.

You like to write. The horrors you write, of twisted time and dying and what being frozen in time is like— it can go. No one needs to know. No one WILL know. It’ll all fall on you, like every other crabbing thing in the time loops. And that’s okay, it’s enough.

#isat #in stars and time #claude looping au #isat claude #in craft and cages #isat au #isat spoilers #<- eh? in reference to like 2 things? I’m dancing the edge here #I’m MAKING SHIT UP!!!!! #common icac read more to not clog tag for being 500 or smth words #YO THINK FAST [throws this at u at Mach 5] #this one calls out claude’s enjoyment of writing being twisted by the loops! smile! #me: oh I’m gonna write some cute shit 4 the au for once #also me: writes this??? instead? #I really do gotta write the nicer things for the au lmao I gotta be nice to claude 4 once #chimera writes

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

it wasn’t power i coveted; it was acceptance.

Titans 3.06

y’know, i was just thinking the other day that 1.06/1.07 and 2.06/2.07 were the best episodes of their respective seasons, so i have great hopes going in to this one. fingers crossed!

as always, typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. oh! um... that was a Cold Open, all right. *nudges* get it? cold? because it’s snowing? and two people got murdered in cold blood? eh?

... oh, i’ve just started.

1.5. i wonder if “i want to be sipping pina coladas on a beach with you” is the new “i’m just one day away from retiring.” i was so on edge after that--i kept expecting that car to explode. even so, the way they died wasn’t an anticlimax: brutal, and quick. 

1.75. so i’m assuming that’s the titular lady vic! this show better bring up why this doll was important or why these two cops needed to be killed, and not leave it to the ether like jericho’s little mindscape jaunt in 2.08 (i’m still dying to know what that was about???)

2.

i love how deliberately unappealing wayne manor is. 

(sorry for the pic quality. i don’t have hbo max! ssshhh.)

2.3. i love the many references to “home” and “our house” when they’ve been here for less than a week and saw one of their friends get blown into pieces. i mean, i unironically love it: home is where family is, after all!

2.5. i’d like to say that kom is playing some sort of long game here, especially given the build-up we had last season and some of the more niggling details this season: why did kom choose now to use her bond to lure kory when she’s been on earth for months? why did justin call kory now, just around the time that she started getting kom’s visions? and what about kom’s ability to exactly imitate other people? hmmm.

2.75. the reason i wrote i’d like to say is that i’ve made the mistake of assuming plot complexity where there is none; i was so invested in the jason todd orchestrated his own death theory for instance, when it turns out that oops! ra’s al ghul just happened to leave a little lazarus puddle in gotham, and oh yeah! scarecrow just happens to have a network of henchmen working for him on the outside and a fully functional laboratory and a weapons cache fit for a new supervillain in the basement of the high security psychiatric unit/prison that he’s in! 

(no i’m not bitter, why do you ask)

2.8. iiiii don’t know what to say about the implications of sex slavery being a thing on tamaran, so i’m not going to say anything at all. for now.

3. gotham, six years ago... wasn’t it five years before s2 that jericho died and the titans disbanded? and when was the flashback from 1.06 where dick let zucco die? i think it was after the events of 2.08: jericho? i can’t seem to find any transcripts or reliable information online, so i’m going to have to rewatch 1.06 at some point. 

(i love the old-fashioned batman music in this heist scene)

3.5. “security is a joke... it’s my way of keeping my dad on his toes”. what you’re an ethical thief now, like an ethical hacker? i don’t think that excuse is going to sell, barbara, on the day you do encounter a decent security system and your father is forced to arrest you.

(then again, gotham’s security is piss-poor. did you know that you could just walk into arkham asylum without any official clearance, ply one of its most dangerous inhabitants with contraband, and said inmate could get away with having an entire laboratory and weapons cache--NO I’M NOT GOING TO LET THIS GO)

3.8 so that flashback between dick and barbara was really cute! and also illuminating:

a) dick sounds so light, so... um. look. i have some apologies to tender to mr thwaites, because while i’ve always thought he does a fine job as dick grayson, i’ve never been terribly fond of his cadence as he delivers dialogue. it’s often monotonous, i thought, but then again, he’s usually delivering exposition or dealing with one soul-crushing crisis or the other. so i was pleasantly surprised to hear dick sound so carefree and alive in his conversation with barbara, laughing frequently, his emotions so bare and bubbling to the surface. it’s really a fantastic contrast to the traumatised and world-weary dick grayson that we see now, even more so than the costume department just bunging a backwards-baseball cap on mr thwaites’ head and hoping that will convince us of his relative youth. 

b) and god, when he wakes up from that memory, all alone in his bed, bleeding from bullet holes in his shoulder (bullet holes that are--in a somewhat convoluted way--barbara’s fault)? yikes. it’s great. you have my apologies, mr thwaites!

c) can you imagine dick just... crawling back to wayne manor, trying not to be seen by anybody, shedding his suit and just... collapsing onto his bed without even tending to his wound? the sheer emotional and physical exhaustion of it? 

d) it’s so interesting to see how barbara and dick approach the idea of legacy--a big theme on the show!--in this flashback. barbara is the one bucking the idea that she should follow in her father’s footsteps, while dick seems pretty content with the batman-and-robin setup, and even tries to get barbara to join their team (robin-girl. pfffft). obviously after this several traumatic things happen wherein dick ends up questioning and then resenting his role as robin, his relationship with batman or even returning as a vigilante at all. and barbara... ends up replacing her father as commissioner. it’s tragic, really. 

e) the dynamic between dick and barbara in the flashback reminds me of how it was between dick and donna in 1.08 and even between kory and dick in early s1. it’s like having an older, strong-willed woman by his side means he gives over the steering wheel for a while and lets himself... unspool, a little bit. it’s kinda endearing.

also:

*pinches his cheeks*

3. you know, we talk about dick and Eldest Daughter Syndrome, and that’s definitely valid, but here gar seems to me the embodiment of it, with all the emotional gardening and firefighting that he’s expected to do. he’s kind of the guy expected to keep his shit together and take care of everyone else while they are falling completely to pieces, unable to carve out time to process his own trauma. he’s also picked up dick’s and kory’s tendencies to bottle up their struggles and shun appearing vulnerable, and he’s struggling in the shadow of both dick and kory undergoing acute crises, his best friend (and frequent confidante) on the other side of the world, and seeing hank die, utterly helpless to stop it. 

i’m glad that he got a chance to tell dick even a smidgeon of what he really feels, and i hope this is at least a semblance of a wake up call for dick to actually sit down and work with the people he repeatedly calls family.

3.5. it’s heartening to see that dick immediately makes it his priority to go talk to gar. but don’t blow off kory in the process, man!

4. i’m really loving this dynamic between kom and conner--i get the idea that both of them consider each other as Unknowns, alien two times over. but conner’s only ever known the titans, who embrace being different, and kom’s only ever known... well. 

anyway, kory is Really Stressed, and honestly? #relatable. 

when you’re forced to bring an estranged family member to hang out with your friends...

4.5. i love that the titans are spending so much time in the kitchen. a real family!

5. jonathan crane is a creep and i absolutely cannot stand him.

5.25. how did he get a whole lab setup (in the basement of a hospital...?) with a bunch of whitecoats to work for him? how did he just waltz into the viewing room of an operation theatre when he’s one of the most wanted men in gotham right now? why is jason wandering around maskless when--presumably--as the adopted son of the most famous person in gotham he’d be a tad more recognisable than your average joe?

why do i expect this show to answer anything anymore?

5.5. that’s not necessarily a criticism, mind; i’ve said since season 1 that titans is very comics-like in this aspect, all about the Aesthetic and the splash-page splendour rather than the niggling unimportant details of how or when the characters got to said location. like. the camera gliding over the operation being set-up, lady vic bursting in and doing her murder dance (imagine the luck of the poor intern who chose this day and this surgery to assist) and jason, shocked and slack-jawed, framed by blood.

5.75. it’s a sobering reminder for jason that, though he chose this path in order to gain control over a world that seemed like it was rapidly spinning out of his grip, he’s only succeeded in handing over even more control to a man with an agenda that is very clearly not aligned with his own. he’s in too far to stop now, though.

5.9. i have a lot more thoughts about jason! saving it up for the end of this recap, though.

6. more kitchen time! i better see dick do some cooking soon...

(”our kitchen”! it still delights me! kitchens are So Important)

6.25. so much of dick’s issues have revolved around his relationship with bruce, so it’s completely understandable that in the wake of a huge crisis where bruce literally asks dick to replace him and be a “better” him, dick would default to all the worst things he learned from the man. and i’m glad kory’s having none of it, but come on, guys. the woman’s literally fetched her fratricidal sister out of a hole in the ground with no idea what said sister is going to do next and experiencing a burgeoning sense of guilt far, far beyond her history with the titans, and dick’s too far into his autocolonoscopy that he can’t see that she needs help.

6.5. “he services your urges”--well, as far as we know, kory is the last person he had sex with...

7. “i hope [gar] isn’t angry with me...” SIR! i thought you’d already spoken to him! smh, as the kids say. kory wouldn’t be needing to reassure you if you just took the effort to build two way emotional relationships with the rest of the team. @superohclair​ was taking about dick’s relatively low emotional intelligence? i agree.

7.5. “i got my own problems [...] you and barbara? fix it.” YOU TELL HIM, KORY

8. man i really like this weird, sad tension between dick and barbara--this sense that both of them are approaching the other based on how they remember them and are ultimately disappointed by the truth. barbara thought she could trust dick to... well, be a better batman, but dick has not only failed at that in her eyes, but repeatedly undermined her while exploiting the authority that she gave him. in dick’s eyes, this is nothing like the barbara that he knew, rebellious and ready to do whatever it takes to find something. 

like. this show sometimes really hits me in the chest about the ways it shows kids grow into adults and into caretakers, and the way it’s stop-start, the ways nothing can happen at all for a long time and then it’s Crisis Central all at once and there’s no space to breathe. the weird sort of sadness that comes with nostalgia. 

8.5. oracle name drop! i agree with barbara, any system that can just randomly tap into gotham phonelines is a monster.

8.7. (i don’t know if it’s my imagination, but is dick holding himself... differently in this episode? like that wound is definitely bothering him, and he’s running on fumes)

9. man, that was a really sweet scene between kom and conner. “feeling alien in your own world”... “not quite here nor there”

honestly this team runs on conner and gar’s faith in their value as a family, and it’s a sign of conner’s generous heart that he extends that opportunity to blackfire. this arc of maturation for him, where he’s now able to consciously choose which parts of himself he can use to do the thing he wants to so--save people--has been so fulfilling to recognise. this baby’s grown with the titans! and what he’s learnt is that people can get fucked up, but the titans is a place where they can be fucked up, and grow.

MY MAN CONNER

10. oh man i’m drinking in the gar-dick interaction in this episode like i’m three days into the desert and it’s the only source of water for miles around!

a) gar is absolutely not dealing with dick’s bullshit this episode and I LOVE IT. it’s such a far cry from the man who was idolising dick/robin back in s1 and expecting him to solve all their problems. dick is fallible, dick is fucked up, but he Tries His Best and that’s ok.

b) dick, huffing and puffing through that vent, unable to put any pressure on his left shoulder, trying to have a heart to heart with gar... fuck i love this asshole. 

c) bruce took in a kid who was suffering... “and made him into a weapon”. well. i absolutely agree with dick that it was bruce who put these kids into these horrible situations with him and they came away with a bucketload of trauma to add to the one that they already had. but we know that bruce was really trying with jason, and at the end of s2, dick was coming to acknowledge that bruce had offered him something that wasn’t just darkness. jason’s death and bruce’s reaction to that shattered that fragile progress.

d) “gotham got to me too.” i feel more sympathetic towards dick running off on his own than most, and it’s not just because i’m an unapologetic stan.  we’ve seen before that dick... devolves when overwhelmed, and he lashes out and makes ill thought out decisions and just Does Not Deal. it happened after hearing the news that deathstroke had returned in s2, and it didn’t help that everyone around him was reeling at the news, either. this time, however, he has his salvation in his family, and despite some stupid decisions like running off and kidnapping supervillains without telling his team, he’s been really on the ball this season. thinking clearly and logically, holding it together and working on a plan, thinking two steps ahead of the villains... yes.

e) gar needing to believe that jason isn’t beyond redemption... there’s a lot of blood on his hands, too, from when he was manipulated by cadmus last season. it makes sense why he’d relate to jason’s predicament, and i hope dick picked up on that.

f) my head just added a plaintive ow after dick jumped feet first into the storage room

i need, crave gifs of this scene!

11. *sits on hands* i’m going to talk more about red hood, i promise!

12. more gar and dick! is it my birthday??!!

(actually, according to the tamil calendar, it is my birthday! my “star” birthday)

12.5. excellent. dick using some implausible training that bruce taught him to solve a mystery? passing some of that knowledge onto gar? that proud smile when he sees gar perfectly execute moves that he taught him? MY HEART IS EXPLODING

13. aw, i love flashback!dick and barbara, they’re so cute <3

13.25. why does it not surprise me that the way he proposes a relationship to barbara is by saying “we make sense”? this guy can deduce exactly who was present where and what weapon they were holding from a garbled audio recording but other times he’s utterly clueless, and that’s a consistent character beat right from s1

13.5. so.... that’s why lady vic has it out for... barbara....? i don’t get it. it’s flimsy. but hey! the fun thing about titans is that i don’t have to get it. the payoff has nothing to do with the plot.

14. i can’t believe that barbara fell for that, but at least that wheelchair fight looked awesome, so.

15. oh yeah, i forgot that red hood bullied the mob into helping him and scarecrow... at least that explains the whitecoats and the elaborate set-up.

15.5. honestly i love how this dynamic between kory and kom is developing, though i wish more of the team would pay attention to it. time to call justin, i think!

16. i wonder what happened after that second flashback where barbara got hurt during that heist. did she give up on doing any more (maybe jim caught her)? was it because dick was called away by bruce and then the titans and got caught up in his own issues? maybe barbara froze him out because she wasn’t looking for the relationship that he was looking for? maybe the idea of doing that with someone turning into batman-lite was just... unappealing? scary?

whatever it is, it doesn’t look like dick ever processed the end of that relationship. it’s very intriguing to see where their dynamic goes next.

17. so.... what, did vic deliver some fear toxin to barbara? i... what?

17.5. and i TOLD YOU that they would never explain that doll or why vic attacked those two cops at the beginning! oh, titans. never change. 

18. did jason just randomly have tim’s restaurant burgled? god, i’m feeling a bit nauseous... are they going to kill tim’s father?

18.25. i feel like the rest of the season is going to wrestle with jason’s culpability in the horrible stuff he’s doing and i’m already seeing that prospect divide fans. on one hand, his story is taking a lot of oxygen away from other equally interesting story arcs, and he’s done some truly awful things, like indiscriminate murder, threatening to kill children, blowing up hank, and potentially killing tim’s parents. 

there’s something to be said for the kind of hold that crane has over him, and the so-called ‘anti-fear’ drug that he keeps plying jason with--he’s alone, drugged almost constantly (to the level of dependence), fresh from the trauma of being bludgeoned to death. he hasn’t conquered fear; he’s ruled by it. on the other hand, given that he’s the one character on the show given an obvious and identifiable ‘mental illness’ arc (maaaaybe dick too), one can argue that it’s irresponsible to show this progress into such violence: jason was vulnerable because he was struggling, and that left him vulnerable, but it took only a push before he became a fucking serial killer.

but that could mean we underestimate the degree of that vulnerability, and the mechanics of this universe where he fell into the clutches of the one supervillain perfectly designed to exploit that vulnerability. that helpless spiral into further and further self-destruction is all too real. it’s valuable to know that someone who has sunk that low can still seek help--actual help--and get it. 

18.5. i don’t know. it’s not a question i’m going to resolve at the end of an overlong recap at 1 in the morning. i don’t believe it’s even a question that titans can resolve. but i am interested in where they’re going next with jason.

19. this episode was genuinely great! i’m pumped for the rest of the season!

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #dick grayson #koriand'r #barbara gordon #garfield logan #conner kent #komand'r #jason todd #jonathan crane #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle #manic pixie pop tart #a tragic jalebi #this is a 3k+ MONSTER yikes

[lobster-tales]

Dancing

Day 14 of @marichatmay. This fic is available here on AO3. 

Summary: Chat Noir crashes a wedding and waltzes with the girl serving cake. Also this is a song fic: the tune is If My Heart Was a House by Owl City

Chat Noir had escaped hundreds of times, just never from a wedding.

Stealth missions taught him how to weave through the crowd, away from the dancefloor. Behind him, a little girl’s voice called his name. Originally, he had promised Manon one dance, but that was seven songs ago, and he had finally managed to break free.

Chat Noir fled into the sculpture garden and ducked behind the hedges, skirting around the Musee Rodin. The building was small in comparison to some of the other art museums in Paris. Because of this, the wedding was hosted instead on the structure’s south lawn.

He arrived at the silent north facade of the building and pulled on one of the doors, ecstatic to find it unlocked. He slipped inside the museum, slumping against the door as he caught his breath.

While the outside of the museum was alight, the inside was still and moody, sculptures and paintings lining the walls. The noise from the party was audible but muffled, echoing strangely off the tile. Kinda creepy, he thought, rising to his feet. The eyes of the statues seemed to all be looking at him.

Chat Noir moved past the artworks, casting each one a wary look. He turned to enter the next room and froze.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood there with her back to him. Chat Noir saw her at the cake table earlier, serving the pastries from her parents bakery. When did she leave the party? he wondered. Come to think of it, she’s the only one here who didn’t ask for a picture with me.

She faced a bronze statue of a man, his muscled arm raised to push back his cropped hair, the other hand suspended beside him. Seizing the opportunity, Chat Noir crept forward. He reached out and gently tapped her shoulder.

“AH!” Marinette whipped around, grabbing his wrist, her other hand raised to punch him. She tensed, staring into Chat Noir’s green eyes. “Chat Noir?”

“Good reflexes, princess.”

She scoffed and released him. “Well, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that! One of these days you could end up with a black eye.”

“I’ve had worse,” he shrugged, standing beside her. He placed his thumb and index finger on his chin, considering the statue. “I see you’re a fan of the male physique,” he said coyly, referring to the sculpture’s nudity.

Just as he hoped, her face flushed pink. “No!” She looked away, embarrassed. “I’m just a fan of… art.”

“Riiiiight, art.” Chat Noir moved in front of the sculpture, turning to Marinette and mimicking the statue’s pose. “Alas,” he said dramatically. “I sold all my clothes to pay the barber, and now he’s cut my hair too short.”

She fought back a laugh, her giggles echoing in the empty room. “Stop that!” she said, swiping at him.

Chat Noir broke character with a smile. “You know, I missed you at the reception.”

Anger flickered across her eyes, disappearing before he could wonder what it meant. “Seems I was the only one.”

“Eh, I’m used to fans.” The sentiment was true: his secret identity, Adrien Agreste, was a model. But no one could know that, he realized, and said quickly, “Y-you know, being a superhero and all.”

“Yes, it must be so hard for you,” she mused. “Everyone fawning over you wherever you go.”

“Well, not everyone. My lady doesn’t.”

“Good for her,” Marinette said with a smirk. “One less person to stroke your ego.”

And neither do you, he thought, but brushed the idea away. “I’m a man of the people. If the citizens of Paris want to snap a few pictures with their favorite superhero, who am I to say no?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, are you crashing the wedding or were you actually invited?”

“I just happened upon it,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “I tried to stay hidden, but Manon found me out.”

“... So you saw when I..?”

“Showed up late?” He grinned. “Hard to miss.” He remembered Marinette dashing through the party, skidding to a stop in front of Nadja and her new wife. Marinette had apologized profusely, but the brides only responded with reassuring smiles. Anyone that was acquainted with Marinette knew her tardiness was unavoidable. Even Chat Noir had come to expect it from her.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Marinette faced him, her fists clenched.

He raised his hands. “No need to get defensive, princess. Manon was the only one who got upset.” Chat Noir chuckled. “She really wanted that cake.”

Marinette pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I know. She’s been asking about it for days.”

“Seeing as it’s from your parents' bakery, I don’t blame her.” He watched as she turned away. “So are you a guest or are you working?”

Marinette drifted into a different room. “Both. Neither. When Nadja ordered the cake, I offered to serve it.”

“That’s nice of you,” he said, following.

“Well, she is my best customer.”

“Right, the babysitting.” Chat Noir paused at a sculpture of a centaur. “Manon’s a sweet kid. At least, when she’s not hungry.”

Marinette chuckled. “Let me guess; she’s still looking for you?”

“How did you know?” Chat Noir peered out the window. Manon had returned to the dancefloor, laughing as she danced with her new stepmother. “Actually, it looks like she gave up. Guess we’re both wrong.”

“Guess so.” Marinette stopped to stare at a painting. The light from the party wafted in, illuminating her in a soft glow. Chat Noir felt a flutter in his heart just looking at her, but forced the feeling away. He was in love with Ladybug, and besides, his duty as a superhero meant no dating.

Still, she looked so beautiful. He noticed now that Marinette was not wearing her usual jacket and pants. Her dress was a soft pink, with short puffed sleeves and a bow in the center of her chest. The waist clung to her, fabric spilling out around her thighs. She looked like a fairytale. Or a wedding guest, he thought dumbly.

“I like your dress,” he said.

She kept her eyes on the painting, but smiled shyly. “Thanks. I made it.”

Of course she did. Classic Marinette, overflowing with talent. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” she said again.

They admired the sculptures in silence, until she asked, “Doesn’t your… costume thingie have a timer or something?”

He looked at the ring on his hand. I still have time. “Yeah, but the battle today was pretty easy. By the time I got there, Ladybug had already done most of the work. I didn’t even use my cataclysm.”

Marinette searched his face. “That’s good.”

“Right? She’s pretty incredible.” He sighed dreamily. “Milady always has a plan; she’s a master strategist. Not to mention she’s beautiful and daring and kind and-” Chat Noir caught her looking at him with a funny expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, averting her gaze. “You’re just… sweet.”

His shoulders slumped. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m a hopeless romantic. Someone as amazing as Ladybug could never be with someone like me.”

They entered the next room. In the center stood a marble statue with an embracing couple. The man’s hand rested on her hip while her arm linked around his neck, both seated and leaning into each other. Marinette and Chat Noir stared at the statue, enraptured.

“Maybe… it’s not you,” Marinette said quietly. “Maybe it’s just that… love is hard.”

“Yeah,” Chat Noir murmured. “Maybe.”

They exchanged glances, then looked away quickly. In this room, the party music came through clearer. A beat pounded as the crowd whooped outside.

Marinette cleared her throat. “I should probably get back to the party.”

“Oh yeah? Gotta go bust a move on the dancefloor?” He did the robot poorly, and she laughed.

“As if! I’ve got two left feet.”

“What a coincidence,” he quipped. “I’ve got two right ones.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure you do.” Marinette took a step towards the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to plant myself on the edge and do my best wallflower impression.”

“You’re really not going to dance?”

The sincerity in his voice shocked her, and she stopped to consider him. “So everyone can watch me fall on my face? No thanks.”

“Oh come on,” he groaned. “You know how many songs I danced to? And my partner was three feet shorter than me!”

“You got yourself into that mess,” she giggled.

Chat Noir extended his hand towards her. “What if I ask nicely?”

Marinette glared at him. “Still not happening.”

“Please? Just one song.” He smirked. “No one can see you in here, princess.”

She pressed her lips together. Chat Noir did have a point, and the song was upbeat. Marinette decided she could suffer a few moments of awkward shuffling for her friend.

Marinette took his hand wordlessly, preparing herself for a weak shimmy. Just as she stepped towards him, the song changed. The beat disappeared, replaced by a smooth piano melody.

“Nope!” Marinette leaned away, but Chat Noir pulled her close to him. She was surprised at how gentle yet forceful he was, but convinced herself that his quiet strength was part of the super suit.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he grinned, guiding her right hand to his left shoulder. This close, he caught a whiff of her perfume. He stared at her for a moment, caught off guard by the floral scents. The smell reminded him of rose petals.

She shot him a quizzical look, jerking him from his stupor. “S-sorry, just… follow my lead,” he said.

Marinette stiffened as he placed his hand on her waist. Her mind raced as she thought of an excuse. “Th- this song is so slow, though. We won’t be able to dance to it.”

“It’s not slow. It’s just in 6/8 time,” he explained.

Her blank stare reminded him that he was wearing a mask. “Th-that is, it’s um…” Oh, whatever. “It’s not 1… 2… 1… 2… It’s actually, 1 (2 3) 2 (2 3). There’s smaller beats in between, and a full measure has 6 total.”

Marinette’s confusion fell away to awe. “Chat Noir, a musician.”

“Among other things,” he said, taking the chance to wink. “I’m a man of many talents, princess.”

She rolled her eyes again. “So how are we supposed to dance to it?”

“It’s a waltz. Here,” he said, backing away to look down at her feet. “Take a step back with your left foot. Now take your right and step to the side, so your feet are shoulder width apart. Next, bring your left foot next to the right.”

Marinette obeyed clumsily as he continued, “This is a box step waltz, so you’re basically making two triangles, and the triangles make a square. You’re going to repeat the motion, but backwards. So step forward with your right foot, left to the side - shoulder width apart - and…”

She instinctively brought her right foot to meet her left and he said, “Yes, just like that!”

Spurred on by his enthusiasm, Marinette tried again, alone. She stumbled a few times, stepping with the wrong foot. At one point, her legs crossed and she began to fall, but Chat Noir caught her. He helped her stand, taking her hand in his and placing the other on her waist once again. “Here, it’ll help if I lead you.”

They began to dance, slowly at first. Chat Noir was patient with her, guiding her feet with his own as he whispered, “1, 2, 3, 2, 2, 3...” Just as they established a steady rhythm, the song faded.

“Oh,” Marinette said, disappointment leaking into her tone. “I guess it’s over.”

Her sadness struck him, and he asked, “Wanna do another? Now that you’ve got the hang of it?”

She nodded shyly in response, positioning her hands once more.

The next song started with a low synth sound, no tempo discernible yet. The artist’s voice broke through, accompanied by the crisp beat of a hi-hat cymbal.

“You’re the sky that I fell through And I remember the view, whenever I’m holding you”

The song was faster than the last, but Chat Noir and Marinette adapted quickly. His muttered counts fell away, though his mouth still shaped the numbers with each step. Marinette watched his concentration, relaxing in his arms. She had never seen Chat Noir so focused on anything, and the change was welcome.

“The sun hung from a string Looking down on the world As it warms over everything

Chills run down my spine”

He twirled her spontaneously. Marinette gasped and fell to the side, but he helped her recover by pulling her close again.

“As our fingers entwine”

Chat Noir placed his gloved fingers between her bare ones.

“And your sighs harmonize with mine”

Within seconds, they fell back into the rhythm.

“Unmistakably I can still feel your heart Beat fast when you dance with me”

Marinette felt her pulse racing. She pretended it was just from the dancing, the fast movement.

"We got older and I should've known (Do you feel alive?) That I feel colder when I walk alone (Oh, but you'll survive)”

“Here,” he said softly. “Let’s try this.”

“So I may as well ditch my dismay”

Chat Noir pulled away and crossed his right wrist with hers, tucking his other hand behind his back. Their feet slowed from the fast triplet, circling each other on the two main beats.

“Bomb’s away”

As the artist drew out the last word, Chat Noir nodded at her. They switched, crossing left wrists and circling each other the opposite way.

“Bomb’s away”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“No,” she lied with a smirk.

He smiled and said, “Big steps now.” Wordlessly, they fell into the waltz again as the chorus started. This time, Marinette stepped farther back with her left foot, then right. Chat Noir turned her to the right as she brought her feet together. She then moved her right foot forward, the left passing, then she turned her body once more to bring them beside each other.

“Circle me and the needle moves gracefully Back and forth If my heart was a compass, you'd be north”

They continued to move in a square around the marble statue. Marinette knew she should be stumbling, falling all over herself. For some reason, though, her steps were confident. Chat Noir kept her steady and secure.

“Risk it all, 'cause I'll catch you if you fall Wherever you go If my heart was a house, you'd be home”

As the chorus receded, they fell into a small box step again, one that saw them through the second verse. Marinette laughed breathlessly, her eyes shining. “Sorry, I’m getting dizzy.”

“Me too,” Chat Noir said with a grin.

“It makes me smile because you said it best I would clearly feel blessed If the sun rose up from the west"

Marinette felt too comfortable in the silence, and invited conversation by asking, “Where did you learn to dance?”

“It was actually part of the hero curriculum.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, so there’s a curriculum?”

“Of course.” A playful flicker crossed his eyes. “My lady got higher grades than me in every class, except ballroom dancing.”

“I see. Even so, I must be a pretty clumsy dance partner compared to Ladybug.” Marinette chuckled.

Chat Noir fell silent, his expression suddenly very serious as the verse ended.

“Flower-bomb perfume All my clothes smell like you 'Cause your favorite shade is navy blue”

For the next part of the song, Marinette held tight with one hand and outstretched the other. She turned into him as Chat Noir took her other hand, twirling her in his arms.

“I walk slowly when I'm on my own”

Within the closeness, he said, “You’re not clumsy, Marinette.”

“(Do you feel alive?)”

She tensed as she repeated the motion, pulling away from him, then returning to spin beside him.

“Yeah, but frankly, I still feel alone”

This time, he held her in his arms for a longer moment. “In fact, you’re the best dance partner I’ve ever had.”

"(Oh, but you'll survive)"

She managed a gulp as they waltzed the small box step once more. Marinette looked away, not wanting to meet his soft gaze.

“So I may as well ditch my dismay”

They crossed wrists again and glided around each other.

“Bombs away”

When she moved to switch wrists, Chat Noir instead reached his hand around her waist. Marinette jumped slightly, her hand going to his neck on impulse. They held each other close as they circled once more.

“Bombs away”

They positioned themselves for the waltz as the chorus started to build. Just as the drums intensified, the sound fell away into a mellow synth. Both of them froze, relaxing when the artist sang once more. They grinned sheepishly at each other. Chat Noir’s cat-like eyes were luminescent in the darkened room. Marinette’s reflected the glow of the party lights outside.

“Circle me and the needle moves gracefully"

Both became acutely aware of his hand on her waist. He shifted his grip, the motion sending a shiver up Marinette’s spine. Her lips parted slightly, and Chat Noir wondered if they had always been that pink.

"Back and forth, if my heart was a compass you’d be north."

Marinette stiffened in preparation to dance, snapping Chat Noir out of his reverie. As the music crashed into passion again, they resumed their waltz around the room. There was no hesitation in their movement, nothing awkward or uncoordinated. The sculpture of the lovers sat at the center of their path, marble lips pressed against each other. The statue’s intimacy paled in comparison to their dance.

“Risk it all, 'cause I'll catch you if you fall Wherever you go If my heart was a house you’d be home”

The dancers broke from the routine at the same moment. They became a series of twirls and spins, Marinette’s dress flaring out with the movement. Chat Noir never looked away from her, and when she finished her final twirl, he placed his right hand on her waist and reached under her knee with the left. The light pressure of his fingers asked silently, and Marinette granted his request by lifting her knee to his grasp, her arm secured around his shoulder.

“If my heart was a house you’d be home”

He held her as they spun, their faces centimeters apart. Slowly, he set her down, and they resumed their waltz as the song played out it’s final notes. Sensing the end, Chat Noir placed both hands on her waist. Marinette let herself be dipped, stretching out one hand gracefully.

When she stood, they held each other’s hands, breathless. The song transitioned into an upbeat anthem, the wedding guests cheering from outside the museum. Despite the noise, Chat Noir and Marinette heard nothing, only the pounding of their hearts. Well that, and…

Beep beep beep!

Chat Noir winced, glancing at the ring on his hand.

“You’re going to transform soon,” Marinette said. She spoke with an unnerving certainty, but Chat Noir had no time to reflect on it.

“Yes.” He stared at her. Her back was to the window, the light illuminating the fabric of her dress. Chat Noir committed the sight to memory, before lifting her hand in his own and pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Merci, princesse.”

With that, he retreated to the shadows, slipped through the door, and melted into the night.

#marichat may #mlb #mlb fic #marichat #chat noir #marinette #my fic #song fic

[judylicious]

And When He Smiles I Swear I Can’t Breathe

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader

Word count: 1,618

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies. This refers to Alan Rubin as a character in the movie, not the real Alan (although he obvsly played himself but you know what I mean)

I’d like to add that I made everyone of the band a few years younger (so the age gap between the reader and Alan isn’t that big), so he’s approx. in his early 30s.

Warnings: !!! IMPORTANT trigger warning mentions of physical abuse !!!

Chapter VII

Charlotte looked up to the musician, who only stood there, scowling at the woman while anger spread through him. “Anyway.”, Lari started again. “I don’t wanna ruin your date. I see you around then.” She winked at him and started walking away, disappearing in the nearest backstreet. Alan stood there, still saying nothing and he feared looking at Charlotte. He couldn’t bear to look into her eyes. He knew they’d be full of disappointment and pain. “Alan? I’d like to go home now.” His heart sank. “Sure.”, he replied with faltering smile.

As the two got into the car, the atmosphere was tensed. And before Alan started the engine he took a deep breath. “I had ended things with her before I even met you at our concert. We wanted different things.” He looked at Charlotte with concern, who wasn’t showing any reaction but fidgeted with her hands. “You gotta believe, me since I’ve met you I can’t get you out of my head. A-and the night she was talking about, I… got weak but I can’t undo what’s done.” Finally she looked at him. “Please Charlotte. The more time I spend with you, the more certain I feel I wanna be with you. Only you.” He smiled and carefully touched her hand. “It’s fine. We’ve just started dating, Alan.”, Charlotte answered him. “Alright, let’s take you home then.” Nothing’s alright. But Charlotte knew she had to keep calm, she had no right to be angry, he didn’t do anything wrong. She told herself she had to fight off those demons in her head if she wanted a proper chance with Alan. And she wanted that chance, more than anything in this world.

The next morning Alan couldn’t help himself but paid Lari a visit. He eagerly knocked at her door. “Alan, didn’t think I’d see you so soon again.” He pushed her inside. “What the hell were you thinking last night? I don’t run around town telling people who you fucked!” “Aww, did I made your date jealous? I assume you didn’t hit a home run last night? No? How about third base.” “Lari…”, Alan warned her, being on the edge. “You’re not loosing your skills are you?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “C’mon with a girl like her, you should have had an easy time.” Alan rolled his eyes in response. She slowly made her way towards him and moved her hands over his chest, tugging at the upper buttons of his shirt. “You know she won’t make you feel like I do.” “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.”, he said, pushing away her hand and made his way to the door. “Don’t tell me you’re up for anything serious with her…” “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” He started to open the door as Lari slammed it shut with one hand. “Seriously? You dumped me cos I wanted more than a casual hook-up and you didn’t! And now you do? What has changed?” “The woman at my side.”, the musician snapped and left Lari’s apartment.

Later on the band had finished their rehearsal, when Lou approached his best friend in a quiet moment. “Alan, how are things going with Charlotte?” “Um, quite well, thanks. We went dancing last night.” “Dancing? Is that the newest code word for sex?” Alan laughed. “It certainly is not. We’re… not there, yet.” Lou took a breath and was about to say something when Alan continued. “I know, I know. Don’t you say it, it’s rather unusual for me. But Charlotte, she’s different, with her it’s different. She shines and has that aura around her-“ “Speaking of auras, her’s just walked into the room.”, Lou interrupted him and gave a nod towards the door, where a slight insecure Charlotte was standing, her gaze wandering across the room, in search for her trumpet player. And when their eyes met she excitedly started walking towards him. “Hi Lou, hi Alan.”, she grinned at the short haired man. “Hi Charlotte nice to see you again.”, Lou greeted her. “What are you doing here, hun?”, giving her a peck on her lips about which she seemed rather surprised. She didn’t expected him to be affectionate in front of his boys but liked it all the more. “Wanted do ask if you’d be free for coffee?” “Sure, just let me grab my stuff.”

They agreed on a small, welcoming café and took a seat on it’s outside area. “I’m genuinely surprised to see you.”. Alan took a sip of his cappuccino “Why’s that?” “Well, because of last night. You didn’t seem too pleased.” “I told you, I’m fine. I really am.”, Charlotte assured him and touched his thigh. “Did you find home well?” “Huh? You took me home, Alan, don’t you remember?”, the girl laughed. “I remember taking you to your neighbours house… again.”, he said in a dry tone. Charlotte sighed. “I know, I will tell them. But after the night at the Chez Paul I don’t think they will be happy to see you. I need some time to prepare them, if that’s the right word.” “I think it’s not.”, Alan raised a brow. “Anyway, I’m not keen on meeting them, I just think they should know that you’re dating, someone. Cos I don’t want you to get in trouble for constantly sneaking out of the house or lying to them. Or… you could move out.” That phrases instantly caused Charlotte to have a flashback. She could hear the glass of whisky shattering on the kitchen floor. The feeling of her knees buckling. He grabbed her throat, pushing her head up and forcing her to look at him. “Charlotte?”, Alan touched her shoulder causing her to startle. “Aren’t you feeling well? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “I-I’m fine.”, she stammered. “I will tell them, I promise.” And she tried to give him a smile. “I know your father can be difficult but he’d never hurt you, would he?”, he asked her with a concerned look on his face. “Probably not.” “I swear to God if he ever lays hands on you… You’re gonna tell me, right?” “Of course, Alan. I will.” Feeling uncomfortable talking about this issue she quickly changed the topic. “So did you pick up any new songs?” “Oh yeah, we’ve started on ‘Gimme Some Lovin’.” “You did? I love that song! Hopefully you worked out a great part for the horns.” “I think we have a quite lively arrangement, first rehearsal sounded wild already. You’re gonna like it.” “Is it in for your next concert?” “I guess so. Why, you wanna come?”, he asked her with a smirk. “Well, obviously. Someone’s gonna keep away the female groupies from you.”, she nudged his shoulder. “No one better than you hun.” and planted a warm, lingering kiss on her lips.

When Charlotte got home from her coffee with Alan, she felt confident telling her parents about the trumpet player. Sylvia was in the kitchen preparing dinner, while Frank was in his home office next door, doing some paper work. “Mum? Dad?” As she saw the glass on his father’s desk, she hesitated for a moment but felt like it was now or never. “There’s something I’d like to tell you.” “Uh huh.”, Frank murmured. “Dad, it’s really important to me, please?” He sighed and got up, joining his wife and daughter in the kitchen. Charlotte cleared her throat nervously. “So… How are you doing?” “Charlotte, what do you want?”, her father asked annoyed. “Er, alright. I-I’m dating someone.” “Oh that’s lovely, dear!”, Sylvia gave her a big smile before pulling her in a hug. “Who is it?” As Sylvia let go of her daughter Frank repeated his question. “I asked ‘who is it?’” “He’s a musician, playing with ‘The Blues Brothers’”. “The Blues Brothers?”, Frank laughed. “Shit, you know half of those thugs served time in prison?” “How do you even know?” “Fella of mine had to do some community service as a public defender.” “Sound like your fella isn’t the most honourable person either then!” “What did you just say?” “Frank! Charlotte! Why do you two always have to bicker!” “No, I’m sick of this control mania, I ain’t no teenager anymore!” “How about you introduce the young man to us, eh?”, Sylvia said with a smile, desperately trying to soothe everyone’s nerves. “You know what? You’ve already met him. It’s that sweet maître d at the Chez Paul, the one you spilled your fuckin culinary Hindenburg on!” “That kike?” “So what if he is?! Cos I don’t care.” “But honey, we are Christians, how is that supposed to work?”, Sylvia ranked on Frank’s side. “What the hell mum? We’re not living in the 19th century anymore. And by the way we don’t even go to church! Nice try!”, Charlotte scoffed. “You are about to become lawyer, Charlotte! Don’t you forget that You can’t associate with criminals.” Frank started yelling. “Bollocks to that!” “Not this again!” “Why are you two so stubborn? You’re making my life hell!” “We are making your life worth living!” “Jeez, I can’t do this anymore, I’m out of here!”, Charlotte spat. “You will not see this waiter again!” Frank grabbed her arm “Are we clear, Charlotte!?” but she could wrest herself free until he pushed her shoulder, causing her to run into the open kitchen door. As she tried to steady herself, she loosed her balance and fell. Lying on the floor she saw her father coming towards her with clenched fist. “Must I beat obedience into you once again!” “Frank stop it it!”, she heard her mother shout but it was already too late. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

#Alan Rubin x fem!Reader #Alan Rubin x Reader #Mr. Fabulous #Blues Brothers #blues brothers fanfiction #Blues Brothers fandom #Lou Marini

[painandpleasure86]

Sequel of Lazing of a Sunday Afternoon: News of our World

Hiii people!! Sorry if where u live its 20 already. I have a problems to publish before. But, i hope that you enjoy my story anyways!Prequel it's here:

https://painandpleasure86.tumblr.com/post/185954894848/im-continuing-the-story-that-kate-aka

Words: +2.1K

Warning: My inexperience and my broken English lol. Oh and its fluff af.

Pairing: John x Fem!Reader

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Part 1

It's been a few weeks since you told him. It's still too early to tell about this to the rest, even if it's your parents.

In order not to get excited, they have agreed that the best thing to do is to have a blood test, in case there is really a pregnancy.

Your gynecologist must give you the order for this. So, you have an appointment on August 15.

It’s a beautiful morning, the sun shines. Spring feels closer and closer. This morning you have your children at home, Miguel is recovering from a flu-like illness and Rodrigo simply didn't want to go to the school. They don't usually let him decide that kind of thing, but that day they let him. He's six years old now. When you go to the kitchen, already dressed, you can't help but think "how big Rodri is. It seems like yesterday when he came in my arms and it was a little bean, hehe".

You arrive at the kitchen, your children having their chocolate with oatmeal cookies, your husband with his scrambled eggs, toast and a tea with milk. You go to the fridge and take out the jug of water. You serve yourself a glass full of water. Your babies see you and say "why don't you have breakfast with us mommy?" "Mommy has to have some medical check-ups and can't eat anything." He looks at you with a smile. You answer his smile with a bigger one. You go to him and hold him tight. "I love you, huh?", "Me too" he answers in your ear. They give each other a little kiss. Your older baby says "what's going on? Is there going to be a little sibling?"

You look at him surprised, because you don't know why Rodrigo says that... but your husband, seeing your puzzled face, says "I told him yesterday a little about you know what. And I think that whenever he sees us kissing, he's going to say that. Get ready," he says with smiles. That smile...

"Well, I gotta go. They will stay with Daddy. I promise I'll be back soon," you tell them. You get your handbag and your keys. You go to the door. The three of them go to you and hug you. He gives you many little kisses on the cheek. Your little ones hold your legs tightly. "Well guys, I'm not leaving forever," you say with a smile. "Well..." and they let you go unwillingly. Of course it hurts to leave Rodrigo and Miguel, but they're not alone. You close the door and behind you you hear. He says “Well... Men’s time.  How about... a lot of music to dance to?" "YAAAAAAAAAAY" your kiddos say. Then you hear him play his favorite song, but you can't hear his words anymore, because you're in your car...

Before you start the car, you check the time.  You're on time. Turn on the car, also the bluetooth of your car to go listening to music.  You select the entire library of your cell phone and press shuffle.  Dancing Queen sounds.  Your smile is immense.  With that joy, and the memory lived of your husband dancing on stage, backtrack and start your journey.

There is normal traffic, no traffic jams.  It's 9 o'clock in the morning, so everything is quieter.

Fifteen minutes of driving, you arrive at the office.  You park the car, you take the cell phone that was playing a song, you get off.  You go to the corresponding waiting room, waiting to be called by your doctor...

Almost ten minutes after the agreed time on the shift, he calls you.  You walk into the office.

After filling out the paperwork, he says, "Madam, the results of your annual check-up gave normal values, what happened?"  You say "I think that i’m pregnant".  He looks at you and says "I always told you to use the condom from the beginning" in a tone that simulates anger.  He writes your order.  You laugh at the discomfort and says "the thing is that I forgot... one thing led to another". He, extending the order to you, continues simulating his anger and says "later please, don't say the baby came by accident, eh!" and smiles. When you have the results, mark an appointment with me; if it's positive I'll refer you to the obstetrician".  You nod and say, "Thank you doctor, see you later.”

You're very anxious to know that you're ready for testing.

As soon as you leave the office, you go to the laboratory, which is half a block from there  You go into the center, withdraw a shift number.  You wait a few minutes.  They call you.

"Good morning", says her. You respond "Good morning" and you give her the order.

It's 10:15 in the morning. The laboratory is open until and 30. "Well, ma'am, it's still lab hours. If you have the 8-hour fast, you can wait and do it right now." Nod. After the paperwork of the health insurance, the receptionist gives you your turn and you wait for a call. Not even five minutes after you've sat down that the receptionist calls you. You enter the cubicle, you sit down. The professional would be on the side of your right arm. He asks you routine questions before a pregnancy sample (last intercourse, if you take pills, last menstrual period). Then he asks you to put your arm in the right place so he can do the extraction. Tie a rubber band over your elbow cavity. He asks you to clench your fist and squeeze hard. You do it. You look away, you're impressed to see a needle. You feel it inside you, annoying but tolerable. Moments later he says "Ready, you can open your hand..." and you turn your head in his direction again. He says "the results will be available from this afternoon, come with this order". Assentis, greet him and return home, having that cotton of your arm very strong.

You starve. So, it’s time to go home. You send a message to your husband "I'm going home! I love to everyone.😘❤️". You go to your car, get in, and put the music back in random. Don't let me down sounds, a song you once dedicated to your husband (but it's another story). You smile because of the nostalgia it gives you. And with that vibe, you start driving home.

You arrive. Your men hold you tight. "We miss you sweetie," he said, kissing you. Miguel looked with a disgusted face. And Rodrigo began to ask, "Is Mommy okay? You smile and say "yeah my love, I'm fine..."

It's nap time and you make your kids sleep, though reluctantly. It's a chance to talk to him about what happened without being suspected.

They are both sitting on one side of the bed. He looks at you, hugs you with his right arm and says "how are you?" You say to him, with his head a little low and without looking at him "I've already done the tests, I sincerely can't wait to go and get them... this is consuming me, hehehe", you say with a certain amount of anxiety. He lifts your face with the other hand so that you can see your eyes. He tells you, even having his hand on your chin, "don't get nervous. You're going to hurt the baby”. He laughs a little and continues "that home analysis for me didn't fail in this case... so, just pretend that there's a little living being among us".

You smile, with tears in your eyes "well, all right, I'll calm down... it's just that this has happened so many times, but I still can't help but get nervous. He caresses your cheek, smiling in the sweetest way. "That's my girl," he says and kisses you on the forehead. Then he hugs you, while you lay your head on his shoulder. You hug him too, very tight. “I love you, huh? You know that my feelings are truth...". He kisses your head, saying "I know it honey, I know it..." without enduring tears falling down his cheeks. Tears of happiness, not pain. Tears of feeling at home with you another day.

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Part 2

The fate wanted that until the next day you couldn’t go to withdraw the result before. You went last minute on Friday.

You arrive hurriedly to the laboratory to remove it, the receptionist sees you with a strange face. "I've come to pick up some results. She still looks at you in surprise and says "in the name of...". You tell her your name and she looks for you in a pile of results. He finds it. She puts it in an envelope and extends it to you. "Thank you" you say a little nervous and smiling. "You're welcome, have a good night. You almost ran to the door.

When you leave the lab, you’re so eager; so you take out the paper with the result. Positive. And you have a two months pregnancy. Your husband was right.

You get home. All three receive you. "Mommy's okay?" asks Rodrigo. "Yes, my love... very well," you say, looking at your husband and smiling. Then he hugs you much harder than usual. He says in your ear "I told you so, baby...". They both endure the crying. Miguel then says "they seem very happy. I like see a happy mommy and daddy" and he hugs you even stronger. But Rodrigo suspects that there is something strange...

August 19th. The big day.

He's still sleeping in bed, very deeply. You and your children approached him very slowly. You sat on the edge of the bed, trying to be stealthy. But your children jumped energetically towards him, shouting "Happy birthday daddyyyyyyy!" You can't help but smile. He wakes up surprised, he doesn't understand the situation for a few moments. Then, hug your babies "thank you little children", as he smiles and a few tears slip out of his eyes. He looks at you and you say "Happy birthday my love" with a big smile.

After a warm family time, he says "well, I have to get up". Your babies get a little sad out of bed.

It was time to make preparations. Many of your husband's friends will come to celebrate his birthday, so you ask the three of them for help to speed up the work.

After two hours leaving everything in order, they were ready to receive the guests. Catering came on time, you didn't want your husband to cooking on his birthday. There were options for all tastes, including vegetarian snacks for that friend of your husband's with whom he always discuss.

The music began to play from that very loud moment.  Both your husband and your kids started to dance with Super Freak.

The guests start to came. Your house its full of joy, music and the smell of food.

Rodrigo and his little friends were playing hide-and-seek. He can't think of a better place to hide in your study, where your analysis results were over the desk. See that strange paper for him and he runs towards you.  He forgets the game. This was more important.

"Mommy! Mommy!  Mommy! What does it say on this paper? Come on, tell me!

After five minutes of insisting, you take him aside with your husband and say "you're going to have a little brother or sister soon." You didn't finish telling him, that Rodrigo begins to shout very loudly "my mommy is going to have a baby!"

Silence. Your guests saying "is it true?"

"Mommy, Daddy. Tell them," insists the boy.

You didn't want to tell them before because you've already lost a pregnancy, before Rodrigo. And that made you very bad. They preferred to wait until the fourth month was up.

But apparently things happened in a way that had to cut the tradition.

Your husbands look at you with an immense smile, hug you with one arm and with the other he goes to your belly. With that hand he touches the belly and says to everyone "Rodri is right. We didn't want to tell you yet... but good. This is the best birthday present I can have." Look at the guests. "As much the presence of all of you as that of my children, my wife and this little one who comes to change our routine," he says, looking towards your belly and caressing it gently.

After the hubbub and everyone's congratulations, the birthday then passes with great normality, with lots of loud music, screams of children playing and adults smiling. Obviously, it was not perfect... James, Rodrigo's little friend, threw soda on the floor. And Felix stained the carpet with cake. Things happen.

It gets dark and the guests start to leave.

After making your children bathe and sleep with your husband, you take showers. The shower has relaxed you a lot. Honestly you just want to sleep.

But when you get to the room, there is the light on the bedside table. He was sitting with a soft pillow on his back, against which he was leaning. He was reading a book. When he hears the door, he looks up and puts a bookmark in the book.

"Oh I was waiting for you... my beautiful girl", as I closed the book and left it on the bedside table. All without stopping looking at you.

"Yes, of course, you say that because I don't have a belly yet," you say smiling.

"You're always going to be for me," he says, with a warm smile.

You lie down. He then turns off the light and accommodates your side. "Come" he says to you softly. You lie your head on his chest, while he hugs you. He looks up at the ceiling and says "the best birthday I've ever had, thank you for taking care of everything... although Rodrigo ruined our surprise about the pregnancy," he smiles. "You close your eyes and say "maybe that's how my love had to pass. And of nothing, you know that I do it for you", you say hugging him strongly. He kisses you on the head and caresses your hair. You fall asleep. And he, too, after a few minutes.That night would be one of the last to sleep well in a long time. And internally both knew it. But, it doesn't matter... Christine is worth it.

Tags: @warriorteam1924 (bc you asked for this) @theworksgaga (bc you read the prequel recently and u loved it) @sweetgcreature (with this one I'm being risky lol)

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[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 17

Title & Song:  No. 1 Party Anthem

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 4700+

Summary: Genevieve is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, independent and brutal businesswoman. She’s been intrigued by Alfie since she met him. But where will she draw the line between business and pleasure now that they are working so closely together? Growing more comfortable with each other, will Gen showing her true self work to her advantage or be her undoing?

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is No. 1 Party Anthem bu Arctic Monkeys. The songs give a good background to the stories and have some further insight into the characters. Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes and comments feed this artists beast to write more!

Part 1: Thieves & Kings.- Pt. 2 Conquest - Pt. 3 Nail In My Coffin - Pt. 4 - 60 Feet Tall Pt. 5 I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor Pt. 6 Stop The World Pt 7 Making A Fool Of You Pt 8 L'Amour et la violence Pt 9 Play With Fire Pt 10 Black Treacle Pt 11 These Stones Will Shout Pt 12 Fireside Pt 13 Trouble Pt 14 Tighten Up Pt 15 Sympathy For The Devil Pt 16 Don’t Speak Pt 18 She’s Thunderstorms

My Masterlist.

Tags! Let me know if you’d like to be added or dropped! Thanks!

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester​ @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r​ @iliveonchocolateandnetflix​ @jess2464 @hardygal69​ @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons​ @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night 

Alfie?" you call out, walking down the hall towards his study.

"In 'ere!" he calls out as you move through the doorway."I know that tone, what do you want, Genny?" he says, his eyes moved up to meet you as you stepped closer, his head still down.

You give a small pout in defeat, shrugging and sitting on the desk, facing him on his side just to his right. "Do you like the opera, Alfie?" you ask, your face towards him, your eyes on the window behind him.

"Is this a loaded question?" he asks bluntly, looking at you over his glasses.

"There's one this weekend I want to see and I don't have any friends here who like the opera and I don't want to go alone." you explain, your posture slumped.

"And?" he says,  holding his ear closer to you waiting for where he came into this plan.

"And if you like the opera I was hoping you would go with me." you state plainly.

"Is this how you ask men out on dates?" he teases you with a glance.

"If I were asking you out on a date, believe me, you'd know Solomons," you say patronizingly. "I said friends, didn't I?"

"Oh? We still friends?" he chides, his eyes looking to your crossed arms and legs, referring to your closed off body language.

"Don't be daft, we've BEEN friends." you smack the back of your hand against his arm. "It's Saturday night in London," you say with a sigh. "Romeo et Juliette. I can get us a box if you want to go." you state with upturned palms.

"Oh, you payin', eh? You are taking this girl out for a nice night innit ya?" he says with a chuckle.

"If you could stop giving me shit and give me an answer that would be much appreciated." you lightly scold, crossing your arms back and groaning. "Otherwise I'll have to take Claire and she's miserable company since she hates these sorts of things." you shake your head in defeat.

"Eh," he says scrunching up his face and humming. "I've not been to the opera in ages," he says, narrowing his eyes at you as if he's still considering his words. "Of course I'll go with ya," he says very obviously. "I'll get the tickets, you just get dressed up and we'll be good as gold, yeah?" he says, holding his glasses in his hand, moving them in your direction. His eyebrows are up and his face holds a warm glance laced with condescendence that expressed itself in his tone. "Can't have ya goin' 'n gettin' cross on me now, luv.?" he says patting your hand that rests on the desk.

"Like pulling teeth with you," you say, you lean down over him, your hands on his shoulders. "Thank you, you complete ninny." you say warmly as you kiss the top of his head. You make your way around the desk.

"Why don't you use this as an excuse to wear that long sapphire necklace you've been keepin' locked up, eh?" he suggests, as soon as he'd placed in back into the drawer he instantly regretted not having you try it on first.

"Would that be a bit much?" you ask, your voice aloof, turning to face him.

"Did I hear Genevieve Greene ask if something would be "a bit much'?" he says with a scoff. "And here I was, thinking I was gonna show you off at my club but clearly you aren't the woman I thought you were." he says with a shrug an exaggerated frown.

"When did you get a club, Alfie?" you say approaching the desk with quick steps, your hands now resting on top of it.

"Had it awhile, Gen, I've just kept my involvement quiet because I thought it best for keeping the place the same." he says in a lower voice.

You stand looking over his head, in thought for a moment. "Do I get to drink for free if I show up with the boss?" you say with a cheeky grin.

"You show up with me you can do whatever the fuck ya want, luv." he says with a rumbling chuckle as he looks up at you over his glasses. ----------------------------- The door to your bedroom is open and so is the door to your wing. You hear Alfie calling for you from the front lobby, barking rushed commands at you. You're not actually running behind but he seems to just enjoy giving you a hard time. He's looking out of the window by the door.

Claire brings out your fur shawl to Alfie before she heads out for the night herself. He throws it over his shoulder to hold it. "You are taking her to see Romeo and Juliet?" she says with a smirk, her hands on her waist.

"More like I was guilt tripped and I'm making the best of it." he says with a slow laugh.

"She doesn't leave one with much of a choice when it comes to what she wants, does she?" she says with the tone of teasing in her voice. "Don't let her drink too much before she watches the show." she suggests, moving towards the door and pulling on a hat.

"Why?" he asks, his head tilting back to show his concern.

"Gen connects with art in an emotional way," she says quietly. "She's more inclined to believe in romance when it's in the form of art as opposed to real life." she shakes her head, it leans against the edge of the opened door with a sigh. "So her emotional connection to romance performances, particularly tragic ones, will break her heart." she smiles warmly as she speaks, leaning away from the door. "So if she's drunk she might turn into a melancholy mess on you." she laughs.

"Thanks for the warnin'." he says, thankful Claire seemed to be warming up to him.

"Well as we both know she's a handful. I don't want her to make a fool of herself because I'll have to deal with the consequences," she admits with a grin. "She looks like some sort of fallen angel tonight, Mr. Solomons." she pauses, giving him a mischievous grin. "If you aren't careful, you'll be the one getting your heart broken tonight instead." the same grin still in place upon her face as she gives him a nod and she heads out the door.

He clears his throat, being left alone in the room. His brow furrows in thought at Claire's words. His eyes wander the room, he knew you'd look beautiful, you always did. Perhaps she was just trying to mess with his head, she seemed like the type. He was also surprised to hear of your view on romance, his lip juts out slightly at the passing thought. He knew you loved art but didn't know that in all your hopelessly romantic words you'd spilled about things you loved, that that's where the feelings stopped. He thought you seemed like the physical embodiment of romantic notions, soft and surprising, mysterious with an underlying threat of pain. He wonders who hurt you in such a way and if it was repairable. He corrects his posture and moves the lace curtain away from the window to look out at the setting sun.

"Genevieve, what am I supposed to tell the boys when they ask why I'm late? Sorry, the Lady was takin' her sweet time gettin' ready 'an I had to wait for her. They can't know I'm waitin' 'round on you, Gen, don't make me look bad darlin'." he's lamenting out the window, seemingly just to hear himself speak and you're standing in the lobby and he's not even noticed you've arrived.

You're pulling on the black opera length gloves onto your arms as he looks over to you.

"Fuckin' 'ell." he groans softly, his eyebrows shooting up slowly as his bottom lip hangs slack, exposing his bottom row of teeth. Claire was right to have warned him.

"You told me to dress up," you say in defense of his out of character silence. "So I did." you say, holding your arms out. You're wearing a black, floor-length gown. The top is made of layers of stretching fabric, gathered at the waist, the bottom blooms out just slightly over the swell of your hips in more black layers of chiffon and tulle panels, giving a peak of your legs if you dared to do such a thing. The diamond linked chain ran down the center of your chest, the sapphire pendant hitting just between your breasts. The dress was low cut to perfectly outline the necklace, the lowest point directly below the pendant, the sides cut close so you weren't entirely falling out of your dress. Aggie had deemed showing the inner lines of your breasts too much. Claire had surprisingly approved. On anyone else, the dress wouldn't have looked so suggestive, but because of the size of your chest, these cuts always came across as more scandalous. But you only had to consider your own opinion and you looked stunning and felt generous to the eyes of public tonight.

His head is shaking back and forth as he walks towards you. "I can't take you to the club lookin' like this now can I?" he says, his arm extending out towards you. "You show up lookin' like this and make every other woman feel inferior and they won't come back after taking a hit to their self-esteem like that, yeah?" he teases, standing with outstretched arms in adoration. You pat his cheek, covered in the beard you'd missed, thickened out again and plush under your gloved fingers. "O that I were a glove upon that hand." he coos at you, his hand moving to cover yours on his face.

"Ay me, Alfie." your upper lip shows your front teeth, your tongue peeking out just slightly after you rolled out the words in a deep tone. Your voice is scolding but completely overshadowed in an absolutely feminine display of amusement, including you touching your hair as you spoke. "You can stop using that mouth in such a way right now." you say in a sound that could almost be described as a giggle.

"Nah," he says in a gruff sound, shaking his head down at you. He could tell his words had caught you off guard. He drops his hand from yours to move across your hip to the small of your back as he leans in and kisses your cheek. In the close moments, the heat of him willing your eyes to close, you note how divine he smells. "You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart." he purrs in a way that gives you goosebumps as he pulls away.

"So nice of you to notice," you graciously accept his praise. You reach up to smooth out the collar on his jacket. "You look terribly handsome, don't you?" He gets a good look at you up close, your face surrounded by long hanging pieces of hair, the top half pulled away from your face. Your lashes are long and dark but your lids otherwise bare. A strong brow sets your face with an equally severe dark red lip. "I know to lose your wardrobe had to be difficult but I am loving these new suits," you say, dusting off the sleeve of his black jacket. Your hand trails down his arm to his hand where you inspect his rings. "Still have the one I got you, I see," you smirk. "Of course I do, you have exceptional taste, Gen." he speaks softly at you, voice praising you as you work his fingers with yours, his hand looking huge between yours. He's amused by your focused eyes and the ease with which you touched your bare skin to his.

"I love this one. Is it obsidian?" you ask, you twist a ring on his finger, a huge black stone set in gold.

"It is." he nods proudly at you, he had been so relieved to find that you weren't just blessed with good taste in jewels but also had a substantial knowledge of them.

"I love Obsidian," you whisper, letting his hand go, your fingers start to dig through your purse.

"Forged from the fires of hell much like yourself, eh?" he playfully suggests. You let out a hum of agreement, fluffing the fur around your shoulders. You look up and nod with a cheeky smile he's relieved to see holds no sadness at his suggestion. "Especially in this tonight, luv." his voice is low and suggestive and you love his gravel tone when he sees you like this. "If I may ask, what does a succubus do with a man's soul after she takes it?" he lets out a big laugh as you playfully shove his shoulder.

You take out a sweet and pop it into your mouth. "I use them to become increasingly powerful," you say slowly, your voice deep and rich. "So I can bewitch more and more powerful men each time, taking down each empire as I travel through time," you say with an animated shake of your head, your arms out and moving dramatically. You say it as if it were obvious, as you walk towards the door. "That old chestnut." You offer him a candy and he gives you a judgemental look but takes it and pops it into his mouth.

"You ever thought of writin' instead of paintin'?" he inquires, watching your lips pucker as you suck on the candy in thought as he pulls back the door, you feel the heat of his hand on your back as you take your time in your heels down the stone steps to the waiting car. His hand holding your elbow out of courtesy as your hold up your long dress.

"I have. But I much prefer to paint. Writing uses up too much of my brain and painting helps me relax. Well," you huff out a laugh as you walk. "When it's going well it does." you say with a smirk.

"So your hobbies purposes are to relax?" he asks, you give a casual nod.

"In our line of work I find it critical to have hobbies that can level me out. Without my outlets I can be pushed to behave much like a little girl in a tiara," you say with an amused hum of a laugh at your example. "I'm an adorable pout but don't get near me because I don't know what I want but I do know I love to scream and cry for ANY reason." you laugh at your self-deprecating humor.

"Little girl in a tiara." he shakes his head with a mischievous grin. "Would you hit me if I said that was a perfect description of your tantrums."

You give his arm a light smack. "Is takin' the piss out of me your hobby?" you ask loudly, your eyes rolling as you adjust your dress.

"You said it not me, dinnit ya sweetheart?" his appearance is entirely smug and it doesn't seem to fade for the duration of the car ride. ----------- From the moment he takes your hand to help you out of the car, you don't go without feeling the heat of it on you until you've slid into a booth. He moves you with the gentle suggestion of his hand against your back. It wouldn't have felt so important if your back hadn't been exposed from the cut of your dress. Everyone knows him. Everyone greets him with respect filled nods and he hands out his thanks for coming to them all. When asked who you are, he lets you answer. The only thing he speaks on behalf of you on is saying you were both old friends when asked how you knew each other. You share a glance and the sentiment behind the words as he waits for you to settle into your seat when a man comes up behind him. "You have a moment, Mr. Solomons?"

"No. I don't." he says, only giving the man a glance. You don't hide the smirk on your face from the pleasing feeling of being held in importance.

"It's important business, sir." the man says quietly but with a pleading tone.

"So's this, yeah?" he says, finally turning to him. He sighs after the shorter man just continues to insist. He groans and turns to lean into you, still seated on the edge of the seat of the curved booth. "I'm going to go tell these boys to fuck off, right luv?" he grumbles, his hand resting on your shoulder for a moment. "I'll be right back. Don't go nowhere now." he says with a wink, adjusting his jacket but the collar. He disappears into a hallway and you wait. ------------ He isn't gone long, enough time for you to be brought a drink and have a man who is of no interest to you sit on the other side of the booth. Alfie comes swaying out of the room, clearly miffed as his lip has disappeared under his mustache.

He can tell you're not enjoying yourself as he stomps towards you, his stance wide as he glares down at the man speaking to you. "Excuse you?" he says, that power you remember from the first night you met him hitting you like waves on the shore. You smile up at him first, then shift your eyes to the man who has just stopped speaking to you. "Ya wanna tell me why ya in my club, sittin' in my booth talkin' to my friends, mate?" he asks, shifting his weight on his feet.

"I'm sorry Mr. Solomons, I didn't know." he says, with no real respect behind the words, shooting you a dirty glance before slinking away.

"Right." he groans out, his eyes watching the man as he moves away. "He weren't bothering you was he?" he asks, a finger pointed in his direction, a single eyebrow raised.

"No." you say dismissing the idea with a swipe of your hand.

"Good," he says with a nod, moving towards you. "Scoot on in now." he says, shooing you farther into the booth and you do as requested.

"Don't want you having to deal with other men when ya out with me. Least I can do to let ya enjoy yerself. Ya deal with that enough wif work." he grumbles out.

"You're being sweet again Alfie, watch yourself." you say in a low warning tone, but delivered with a warm smile.

"Shall I ruin the illusion?" he gives an entirely naughty look before glancing around the room and leaning back in towards you. "Your tits tonight, woman, holy hell." your mouth opens in a fully playful scoff and your eyes narrow at him. "You sure you didn't need Claire here tonight to wrangle in that crackin' set?" you kick him under the table.

"Alright. Not so sweet now." you say with a dismissive look, rolling your eyes, still laughing.

"Because I'd be more than willing to help ya out wif that if ya-" you reach down to grab his hand, bending his fingers back towards his arm with a smile and he grunts and frowns at you. "Some fun you are." he says in that gritty tone, now being delivered with a pout.

You look down at his hand before it retreats. You see the roughed up knuckles that weren't there when you left home. You shoot him a knowing glance and he realizes what you've deciphered. "Guess it was urgent business." you infer with a quiet voice.

"It weren't nothin'." he says ending the line of discussion with a more somber look.

You don't even want to pry, you just enjoy the thought of his ability to go from punishing someone just a few rooms away and back to you with his usual charm so smoothly.

"What made you want to buy a club?" you inquire, sipping your drink after a few moments of silence.

"Well, it's money innit?" he says with a half smile.

"You didn't strike me as the type to want a club, but I've been wrong before." you say with a slight shrug.

"It's got its perks. Buying one that's already successful, 'ats how ya do it, yeah? Mix some high end, some low end. Get ya booze 'an music 'n everyone's drunk on the idea of possibility and danger and my product. Makes for willing pockets." he nods. "What about you? You'd be a good owner, floatin' about 'an gettin' all the attention." he gives you one of those more charming smiles he used to disarm you when he would push your buttons with his words.

"I thought about it but it's not for me." you dismiss with a crinkle of your nose. "I'd like to own an art gallery though." you say with little hesitation, he can tell you've thought about this before.

"Ah well that would suit you better wouldn't it?" he nods in agreement.

"Better for hiding money, one would assume," you say casually. "When I'm asked how I make so much money, I can say you can't price art, the viewer is called to pay what the art demands," you say with dramatic flair as if you're delivering the line to this imaginary inquisitor. "Set the price to what you need it to be in the books." you shrug and give a definitive sweep of your hand.

"You always been so good at talkin' your way out of situations?" he says with a teasing tone.

"Does it matter?" you ask, a smile to match his tone. "Have you always been so good at spinning those pretty words, Solomons?" you retort.

"Yes. I have." he says with that charming delivery that makes you want to believe anything he says. You hope he found your charm as disarming as you did his from time to time. ---------------------------------- You settle into your box overlooking the stage. The seats were great, it wasn't where you'd sat the last time you'd been here but you think you'd prefer it over it anyway. You're snuggled into the plush velvet, benched, curtained box. High half walls form a  barrier between you and the other audience members. You're mostly hidden as you both sink into the surprisingly cozy space. As you pop another sweet and take out your theater binoculars, you take in the grand three-tiered room. Everything washed in a warm tone from the lights reflections of the gold columns and filigree.

"Have you been here before?" he asks, his knees resting on his elbows, eyes moving over the crowd below.

"I've been here twice previously. My Freddie has come to visit me since I've moved and he's taken me out."

"And who is this Freddie and why is he yours?"  he prys, his delivery remaining casual.

"Freddie Weber is a designer and dear friend of mine from Germany."

"How you know him?"

"He's from Berlin and that's where we met when I lived there."

"Lived in Berlin, did ya now?"

"Yeah, before Paris. When I was still very green and pushing myself entirely too far in my pursuit of life's pleasures in my expression of rebelliousness." you hum in amusement at the thought of who you were then. So much could change in such few years. You were at the point in your life now where you were hoping the few years wouldn't bring as much change. You were now seeking out stability for the first time in your life and you still had mixed feelings about your mature approach to the future. "Freddie was around for this wild period and being the indulgent one himself, and that, in addition to fashion and being attracted to men in common we became fast friends." You knew the real answer he was looking for was whether you were sleeping with Freddie. And the question to anyone who knew the man would elicit a booming laugh.

"So even wilder than you are now?" he teases, side-eyeing you with a smug half-smile.

"Alfie, darling, I am a nun compared to who I used to be." you say with an overly charming, rolling, laugh, your hand on his knee out of habitual charm. You continue laughing at yourself, both your hands back in your own lap as the house lights lower.

He leans in closer to you, whispering. "I'll be askin' you about them wild days later. Ya not off the hook after sayin' all that." You smile but don't look away from the stage, patting his knee.

"Only if I get some of your wild stories." you hold out your free hand, the other holding the binoculars, to him to shake and he lets out a chuckle at you and shakes. "Now shush, you'll make me miss it." you whisper. He retracts his chin at your bossy tendencies as he lets a hint of a smirk stay on his face as he side-eyes you. As the curtain rises it illuminates your face with the swell of the violins. It holds no tension, set so delicately indifferently with your eyes shining and giving away your emotions. At some point, something on the stage pulls his eyes from you. His attention is drawn back to you acts later when you lower your binoculars. He wasn't sure if your lip was trembling or if you were reciting all the words as they were said, but your face was wet with tears regardless. He doesn't even try to stop the small smile that appears on his face watching you giving yourself over to these feelings. It didn't seem like something you did very often, showing your true emotions on your face in such a raw way. He felt as if he was seeing something he shouldn't, and that made it that much harder to look away. As the final scenes play out, on occasion you'd gulp and let out a tiny little, broken gasp as more tears fell.

(Statue of Lady Of Sorrows, Franciso Romero Zafra)

He offers you his handkerchief, not saying a word and you let out a tiny huff of a laugh. He knows it's meant for him from the fleeting smile the passes your lips as you take it from him, and with your other hand, take his and pull it towards you. He moves closer, taking his hand away and you let out a grunt, turning to face him to see where he'd went. His hand rests behind you on the seat, he offers you his other hand and you look at it quickly and take it as you dab your face with the other. Both your hands hold his, clasped in your lap, as you watch the stage intensely, your brows and eyes in constant minuscule movements. You let out a ragged sigh at the deaths, while he's watching the stage from behind your head, over your shoulder. He turns to see you one last time as your fingers squeeze into his hand. He knew your nails would leave small red half-crescent moons on his skin but he couldn't bring himself to care. Your lashes flutter, dark and wet over slightly flushed cheeks, gleaming with still wet trails of tears. The emotion from your heavy exhales as you look up for a moment, closing your eyes before returning them to the stage with a shaky inhale.

You catch him looking at you, turning to face him as he pulls his hand from the grip you still held on it. You expect him to make fun of you. That was the reaction you were accustomed to at this point. But instead, the house lights still low, the stage still covered, he reaches out and wipes away your tears. One side with his thumb, the other the back of his hand.

"I know. It's devastatin' innit, luv?" he says in such a sweet and gentle way it makes your eyelashes flutter in surprise. You nod and swallow. You could swoon at the words in your state, but a sigh escapes instead. You couldn't help but have a fleeting notion that he wasn't talking about the play.

You turn back and blot your face again as the lights come up. He loses the company of the weeping angel he'd grown so hypnotized by as you clear your throat and he watches that heartbreak fade away from your eyes.

Pt 18 She’s Thunderstorms

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[minsyal]

[Revali x Reader, Mutual Feelings Pt 2]

Summary: lol this is in the past

Part 1 Part 3

       Old yellowed papers scattered across your desk, their edges torn and tattered from months of being sorted and stacked time and time again. It was a fine summer’s day. A slight breeze coasted in from the north, cooling the castle and surrounding area. The sounds of the Castle Town citizens echoed from the walls, jovial laughs, bright conversations and the screams from children as they played merged together to form a calming ambiance. Not to mention the birds perched just outside your window, their songs and chirps almost as captivating as those of the Rito.

           Sadly, you weren’t so perfect today. It was the fourth consecutive day that you were functioning off of barely a wink of sleep. The king had assigned you and the other royal scientists to work on the Sheikah technology. Being the person you were, you always volunteered to do the work. When the others grew tired, you continued late into the night.

           Because of your lack of care concerning your health, dark circles had appeared underneath your eyes. The dark purple mixed disgustingly with a mud-colored brown, giving you the appearance of someone with two black eyes. The last time you checked, your hair was so greasy it would stay stranded in the air after removing the ribbon holding it in place. Surely your skin had become a grey color and your face had sunken like a flooded ship at sea.

           “Would you organize this?” The doors suddenly burst open as a distressed princess entered with her knight following suit. Link glanced at you with a hint of concern hidden in his eyes, but you failed to notice that. Instead, you stared blankly at the princess who dropped another pile of papers onto your desk.

           “Princess, my apologies for being,” you stopped, searching your mind for the correct word but you drew a blank, “rude, but that’s not my job.”

           “It isn’t mine either.” She stood tall, as tall as she could, with her hands placed firmly on her hips. She stared at you, one eyebrow raised.

           “Then it looks like we have that issue solved.” You turned back to your work. Currently you were looking over a sketch of a Guardian that Purah had dropped off. It wasn’t complicated in nature, there was a core that somehow powered the entire being, but getting energy to it was the problem.

           Zelda cleared her throat loudly, deepening the awkward sensation that filled the room.

           “I’ll get it to someone that can.”

           “Thank you.” She immediately turned and left the room, leaving Link to linger. He just stared at you, his eyebrows strewn together in a worrisome manner. You sighed, then returned to your work.

           “I’m fine, Link.” You picked your pencil back up and observed your hand as it shook violently. Annoyed, you held the pencil higher so it was parallel with your face. You gripped it harder and watched as your hand convulsed to the point that the pencil fell. A gentle hand gripped your shoulder sending waves of shock through your body. Quickly, you batted him away. You had nearly forgotten Link was in the room after becoming engulfed in a loud static that was on repeat in your mind.

           “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” You repeated inaudibly to yourself, your voice growing fearful with each breath. You were fine, at least you’d be fine eventually.

           It wasn’t apparent to you until you felt the soft cushion of your bed beneath your body that Link had lifted you. He had always acted like an older-younger brother to you. He took the time to make sure you got rest, ate your meals, and took well needed breaks from work. Sometimes, it was hard to get through to you. This was one of those times.

           “Hurry.” Zelda instructed, her pace picking up significantly as she rushed toward the infamous Rito Village. She had “invited” you to go with her and Link to meet the Rito Champion, Revali. Supposedly he was a great warrior, skilled archer, and other boastful things that escaped your mind. It was actually the King who told you to go, he wanted you to become acquainted with the Champions as he would be kindly allowing, forcing, you to join them on their adventures.

           “Revali isn’t the type to wait.” She continued, her legs carrying her as fast as they could over the swaying bridges.

           “Well, I can only walk so fast.”

           Zelda stopped in her tracks, Link almost ran into her backside. She clutched the Sheikah slate to her chest as she turned to stare you down. The princess was definitely not an advocate for you, something about how she didn’t like your attitude. Her eyes screamed profanities that she could never say aloud, if you looked close enough you could see the flames of hell burning in her irises.

           “Would you stop?” She said in a scolding tone.

           “Stop what?”

           “I am sick and tired of your,” she pushed her lips together, drawing a straight line, “your attitude! It’s obnoxious, and it is no way to speak to-“

           “The princess.” You finished for her, “I’ll just stay quiet from now on.”

           “Good.” She huffed, a puff of white smoke escaping her lips as her warm breath mixed with the chilled air.

           There was no sure reason why Zelda wasn’t fond of you. Maybe it was all your attitude, maybe hers played a small role in it. There is a chance it has to do with you being able to work with the technology, while she was forbidden from it. Possibly, your personalities just clashed and that wasn’t going to be helped.

           You climbed the winding wooden staircase up to the final landing. The one at the top was much larger than the others, a small sign was painted that read “Revali’s landing.” He hadn’t done anything and they named something after him already.

           “A lovely sight as always.” You heard a crisp voice say in a sing-song tone. Rolling your eyes, you wandered back to the landing. A design was painted in white on the chipped cedar wood. Glancing around, you noticed other Rito soaring through the air. It was a shock, seeing races besides Hylians and Sheikahs. You were so keen to living in a small world that you had completely forgotten about the other humanoid species. A young Rito landed a few feet in front of you and looked up at you, a smile spread across her face.

           “Hi!” She squeaked, waving a joyous wing as she pattered closer to you. “My name is Keumi.” Her talons clicked against the wood, dancing near. Keumi was a small bird, obviously a child, with vibrant orange feathers that beautifully laid against clean white ones. Small irregular specks of red mixed into the orange, blotting randomly around her body. Her tail was an odd brown color, looking like it didn’t belong with the rest of her body. Another strange thing about Keumi was her beak, it was significantly smaller than the other children around, it was short and stubby.  

           “Eh, hi.” You weren’t the best with children, they were sticky and strange to you.

           “What are you here for?” She questioned, getting closer and closer. Your limbs stiffened and locked in place. Keumi fixated on your satchel, her eyes prying at its contents. “What’s that?” Her small wing pointed to your leather-bound notebook.

           “Research.” You curtly replied.

           “You failed to inform me that you were bringing along a friend, princess.” The same cutting call came from behind you.

           “This is one of the royal scientists.” Zelda replied, sounding as pleasant as she could when referring to you. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

           “Yeah, hi.” You were met by a large dandelion colored beak, attached to brilliant Prussian blue feathers. Wandering upward, you met the emerald eyes of the Rito. They were outlined in sharp lines of crimson and white and beneath a set of bushy butter eyebrows. A slight red tint was painted on his cheeks, as if the artist constructing him had made an error and just gone with it. “Hi.” You repeated, mentally slapping yourself for coming across as an idiot. Keumi giggled, covering her beak with her wing.

           “It’s nice to make my acquaintance.” Revali said, causing you to cock your head to the side. He really was as arrogant as they said. They, as in Link. Instead of replying, you just nodded and took a step back.

           “Right, well. I believe we have things to discuss.” He turned to the princess and offered an arm before saying, “I look forward to getting to know you,” over his shoulder before he left.

           Coming back to the Rito Village was not exactly at the top of your list. After your first visit, you had developed a love-hate relationship with that bird. He would pester you at all hours, even waking you in the morning to tell you that you just had to see this thing he perfected. He called it “Revali’s Gale,” which was quite self-absorbed. While impressive, you were more concerned with a mother teaching her small one to fly.

           “Always a pleasure.” Revali greeted the princess as your eyes penetrated the back of your head. Same thing as always. A lovely greeting for the princess, barely a look in yours or Link’s direction. You’d wander off to Revali’s Landing, he’d find you, and he’d bug you, then run off.

           “Suck up.” You mumbled, turning promptly on your heel and heading down the steps to your spot. Keumi had met you there many times before, she had actually grown on you.

           “Hi Keumi.” You greeted, finding a spot next to her as she sat with her little legs dangling over the side of the landing. She smiled brightly and beamed as if the sun had been captured in her grin. Okay, maybe she had grown on you more than you thought.

           “I heard you were coming back!”

           “You haven’t been waiting here all day, have you?”

           “No…” she chirped, attempting to hide her overt upturned beak. She was not the best at hiding her emotions.

           “Well, I’m glad. You know you shouldn’t wait around for me all the time. I’m not that important.”

           Keumi gasped, almost offended. She hopped up to a standing position and put her tiny wings on her hips in a flamboyant way. An expression resembling Link’s when he finds you exhausted was glued to her face.

           “You’re important! You’re a Champion!”

           “Keumi, you know I’m not a Champion.” You laughed breathlessly, trying to coax her back down. She was not having any of it.

           “You are, you are!” She bounced up and down, acting like a child having a temper tantrum. You remained calm, knowing she could be quite over dramatic. She’s what you would call a “drama queen.” Her leaping stopped and she plopped herself down next to you. “You’re a Champion to me.”

           A sad smile tugged at your heart as she pushed her chubby face against your arm. Her cheek puffed up and her eyes squinted, staring up at you. The title of “Champion” was not something you could say you held. You traveled with them, helped them out, but you were weak and virtually useless when it came to fighting. You weren’t a Champion.

           “Well, thank you. You’re my Champion.” Her feathers fluffed and you ruffled then gently. “Not much longer and Revali will be asking you to take over.”

           “You think?”

           “I know.”

           “Excuse me?” Your door burst open again, the princess standing there, again. Straightening up, you turned to look at her. Zelda stood in the middle of the open doorway. Today she wore the brilliant blue dress that one of the seamstresses had created. It fit her perfectly, the golden embroidering complimenting the off white and navy blue fabric.

           “Hello, princess.” You said while standing. Ever since she snapped at the Rito Village, you had really tried to just avoid her. Actually, you had grown quiet afterward. You rarely let her hear you speak, and only spoke to her when she wanted. Maybe you had finally learned your place as a subordinate?

           “All the Champions and I are heading out.”

           “Oh, then I’ll gather my things and-“ You began pushing papers around on your desk, putting them back into piles before she stopped you mid-sentence.

           “I’d like you to stay behind this time.” She cut in, her voice considerably loud for how low she usually spoke.

           “I see, alright.” You swallowed, eyes wandering to the floor. Zelda left just as fast as she came. This wasn’t the only time you had been asked to stay behind. She said it was purely for research purposes, something about how you needed to focus on your work. You figured it was just a lame excuse to keep you away. No matter, you had work to do anyway.

           “Link, I’m fine.” You brushed past him. The books and papers loaded into your arms. He was getting irritated with your ignorance concerning your heath.

           “You’re not.” He said. You stopped walking, those were some of the first words you had heard from him in quite some time. “You need to rest.” The dark oak desk shook as the books slammed against it, the legs rattling against the floor. 

           “I’ll rest when I have time.”

           “You need to rest now.” He urged, crossing the room to put his hand firmly atop the book’s cover to keep it closed.

           “There’s people to be saved, Link. I need to help in some way.” Your hand began to shake like it had in the weeks prior. A constricting feeling resonated within your chest, feeling as though someone had knocked the wind from your lungs. “I just want to help.”

Sorry if you’re upset that this is all in the past. I know some people don’t really like that. But hey, this only tells you that there will be a part three ;)

Also I love Zelda so don’t think I’m making her into a villain because I hate her or something. For the sake of this story, she just doesn’t like you. Sorry bro

#revali x reader #revali x you #revali #botw #botw fanfiction #reader insert #loz #rito #fanfiction

[seventeen-scenarios-blog]

Shit the admins say during DE in Singapore

Diamond Edge in SG was 2 weeks ago but we admins finally got ourselves together to watch our fancams/listen to the audio we recorded, and we noticed that we do say a lot of rubbish, so here’s a list of the nonsense we said during the concert!

Just a quick background: Admin Hoshit and Jihooned were sitting together and Admin Wooed and Scooped were sitting together!

Our hi-touch and Diamond Edge confessions 

WARNING: LONG POST AHEAD (also setlist may not be accurate)

**please excuse our singlish

PRECONCERT

Jihooned: I’ll hold the Joshua banner cause it won’t break

Hoshit: “what if my bong runs out of batteries and i gotta change during a song lmao wouldn’t that be funny” (HAH FORESHADOWING HAH)

Jihooned: our bongs damn noisy

/Jihoon and Hoshit could not decide between their biases and so chose to buy multiple straps/ the clanking of the bong bongs can be heard all the way from VIP to cat 4

Jun sexily walks up

Scooped & Wooed: “eh who that” “idk” “can’t see leh”

“OH FK” “ITS JUN OMGGG KJDFHALKSJDFHK”

Hoshit and Jihooned: “who’s that ah cannot see”

Jihooned: “is that wonwoo?”

Hoshit and jihooned after realising it’s Jun: “omg jun jun juN jUN JUN JUN JUN JUN”

Junnie: RIP, Birth - 29 Sept 2017 8:12PM. “Jun is beautiful.”

PRETTY U

Jihooned: “SEOKMINNNNNNNNNNN”

Hoshit: “SEVENTEEN SARANGHAE YEPPEUDA”

/Seungkwan’s 4 octave note, Hoshit really loses it, “BOOOOOOOOO SLAYYYYYYY BOOOOOOOOOO”

BEAUTIFUL

Jihooned: If my eyes were a camera, the only thing you’ll see is Seokmin

Hoshit: “look at soonyoung he’s so dumb why do i stan hi- LOOK AT JIHOON HE IS SO DUMB WHY DO I STAN HIM”

ADORE U

Jihooned: I’m tired already

Hoshit: “I’ve been tired since Beautiful, it’s my third time swapping my shake-bong-hand” (wasn’t adore u the 3rd song)

Jihooned and Hoshit; awkward silence: “we are two songs in” “yeah we’re dead”

STILL LONELY

Jihooned aggresively hits Hoshit: THEY DOING BACKPACK DANCE

Hoshit: “I STAN LOSERS”

AJU NICE

/Jihoon appears for his part, parts Seventeen like Moses parting the Red Sea, Hoshit: “FUUUUUUUUUUU- JIHOOOOOOO-” /gets hit repeatedly by Jihooned

SWIMMING FOOL

Scooped: /Zooms in camera/ “WHAt are yOU DOIng on the flOORRrRRrrR?”

Jihooned: /shrieks at chan/

Hoshit: /incoherent mess/ “SOONYOUNG SOO- oh my god i can’t i love him too much minghao help minghao is so cute they are all so cute soonyoung please i-”

Junnie (internally): “I LOVE THIS SONG but damn, i want the waterrrrrrrr versionnnnnnn” :-;

MIDDLE SCHOOL VCR

Scooped: /Sees young seungcheol in a wig/ “OMFG OPPAAAAAA”

Jihooned: SEOKMINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

Hoshit: “I LOVE MY SMALL DUMPLING BABIES”

MANSAE

Junnie (internally): “ASDFGJKLL;;; LOOK AT JISOO AND JUN AT THE BACK HAVING THEIR MOMENT AHHHHHH”

Hoshit: “this is their third chorus repetition I love this song but my arms are tired plea- oh for God’s sake it’s another repetition”

BOOM BOOM

Scooped: “NOONA PEI”

Hoshit: “WHY SOONYOUNG SWEAT LIKE HOLY WATER”, a pause, “GIVE ME THAT HOLY WATER BLESS ME SOONYOUNG”

Hoshit and Jihooned: /been practicing for this fanchant since they were born, ready for this moment/ “CHOI SEUNGCHEOL YOON JEONGHAN HONG JISOO MOON JUNHUI KWON SOONYOUNG JEON WONWOO LEE JIHOON SEO MYUNGHO KIM MINGYU LEE SEOKMIN BOO SEUNGKWAN CHWE HANSOL LEE CHAN SEVENTEEN BITNAEJULGE”

Wooed: *fanchanting* CHOI SEUNGCHUL, YOON JEONGHAN HONG JI-- fuck i can’t do this.. Uh.. shit.. JEON WONWOO *more incoherent mumbling*… LEE CHAN SEVENTEEN BITNAEJULGE!

Mingyu & Vernon’s Staring Contest

When Vernon was staring into the camera my soul, Junnie (internally): “Ok it’s official. My bias for Hip Hop Team is Vernon.”

Hoshit: “why does Mingyu look so good whO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT”

Vocal Team VCR

Wooed & Scooped: “Ok time to go toilet” (BRUH WE GONNA GET KILLED HAHHA)

Jihooned: “LEE SEOKMIN STOP IT”

Hoshit: “JIHOOOOOON JIHOOOOOOOOON JIHOOOOOOO-”

WE GONNA MAKE IT SHINE

Jihooned: someone hold me pls

Jihooned and Hoshit, proud mothers shouting for their child: BOOOOOOOO SEUNGKWANNNNNNNNNNNNN BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Wooed: SLAY MY BABY BOO SLAY ALKJFLKAJFLKDA IM SO FUCKIGN PROUD OF YOU MY BROHEREIFPSGJKSJ

Junnie (internally): “YASS JOSHUA YOU LOOK SO TINY IN THE BIG CHAIR WOOHOO”

DON’T LISTEN SECRETLY

Wooed: *trying so damn hard not to sing along BECAUSE THIS IS HER FAVOURITE SEVENTEEN SONG EVER BUT SHE ALSO DOESN’T WANT TO RUIN HER FANCAM WITH HER UGLY VOICE*

Also Wooed after Seungkwan’s part: “I think I am crying” *Proceeds to lean against Scooped’s shoulders being emo af*

Jihooned clings onto Hoshit real tight when Seokmin opens his mouth

Hoshit: Why Jihoon hold mic stand so hot

Jihooned: That’s not a mic stand

Hoshit: Why Jihoon hold towel so hot

Hip Hop Team VCR

Wooed: “THEY ARE SO F***ING KINKY”  *erupts in a coughing fit*

Scooped: “rude rude Rude RUde RUDE RUDDDEE R000000000DDDDDD”

Jihooned: “MINGYU HANDCUFF ME PLEASE”

Hoshit: “CHOI SEUNGCHEOL DADDY AF”

Hoshit: “CHOKE ME PLEASE”

ITCH ITCH (언행일치/言行一致)

Scooped: “ITCHY ITCHY”

Scooped: “DIS SO LIT” /Headbangs/

Wooed: Jeon Wonwoo just dabbed he’s dead to me goodbye

Hoshit: “choi sEUNGCHOEL STOP” “why am I not Mingyu biased yet”

CHECK IN

Scooped: “SINGAPORE CITYYYYYYY”

Scooped: “AAAA COUPS HARD RAP COMING ITS COMING OH-F*** OH SHIT OH WOW F***” /dies/

Hoshit: “i hate choi seungcheol”

Performance Team VCR

“HOOOOOOOO”

“SHIT MINGHAO SHIT OMG”

“OH MY GOD”

Hoshit: AH- AH- AH- AH- AH- GODDAMIT CAN THEY LET ME FINISH SCREAMING BEFORE THEY GIVE ME ANOTHER HEART ATTACK”

Jihooned: ChanChanChanChanChanChannnnnnn

Junnie (internally): “bye bye bye bye bye bye bye bye bye bye bye”

HIGHLIGHT

Jihooned and Hoshit: “DO WE DO THE OT13 CHANT OR NOT IT’S JUST PEPO” “JUST DO” “SEUNGCHEOL JEONGHAN JISOO JUNHUI SOONYOUNG WONWOO JIHOON MYUNGHO MINGYU SEOKMIN SEUNGKWAN HANSOL CHAN HIGHLIGHT”

Junnie: “CHAN, HIGHLIGHT”

OMG

Jihooned: Why Chan wear crop top

Hoshit: /lost to the war, only knows how to headbang/ “WE’RE GOING UP YEAH OH MY GOD YEAH OH MY GOD”

*Chan attempts a stunt*

Wooed: CHILD CHILD CHILD NO YOU’RE GOING TO HURT YOURSELF BE CAREFUL.

CRAZY IN LOVE

hoshit just dead just rip woojireongi will be the death of her

Jihooned busy switching between Jihoon and Seokmin

Wooed: "OREUM OREUM” *mumbles* (bc she forgot the lyrics)

Wooed: *more mumbling* “BOOO.”

ROCK

Hoshit, still dead dying at the hip thrusts :YOU TAKE ME TO THE TOP AND STRAIGHT DOWN LIKE A GYRO DROP fukin lee jihoon what the heck who allowed him who allowed kwon soonyoung

Jihooned, every time before chorus hits: oh shit oh shit the body roll hold me

CHUCK

/remember the foreshadowing about the batteries THAT IS RIGHT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN; HOSHIT'S BONG BATTERIES DIED AS CHUCK CAME ON; cue hoshit desperately trying to change batteries to the beat of chuck while screaming CHUCK CHUCK BRR CHUCK

MY I

Scooped: “Will this be Korean or Chinese”

Wooed: “idkidkidkidk”

Wooed: “AAAAA ITS KOREAN ITS KOREAN KASJB AKJSDK”

Scooped & Wooed: /dies at Minghao’s flip/

Jihooned & Hoshit: korean korean korean korean korean /waits expectantly for the first word/ YASSSSSSSS KOREANNNNNN

Hoshit: “minghao bb i would like to see your tattoo when you flip, none of this tucked in shirt nonsense”

Junnie (internally): “I would like to thank Jihooned for showing me that glorious fancam for I wouldn’t be here today so see this with my own eyes omfg I lived for this moment I am not ready for this help me… the toilet paper… Jun… Minghao… help… DOLLA DOLLA DOLLA, KELANG KONGJI KELANG KONGJI”

IF I

Jihooned: “Hoshit hold my hand QUICK”

/Hoshit and Jihooned holds hands through the whole song/ *AH PEHHHHH AH PEHHHH OUR FAVOURITE AH PEH (we were referring to Wonwoo)

*Ah peh is a term used (affectionately, in our case) to refer to an old man

HABIT

Hoshit, confused screaming; not sure who to support louder: BOO?? JIHOON?? BOO!!! JIHOON!!! BOOOOOOOOO SLAYYYYYYYY BOOOOOOO- JIHOOOOOOOOOOOOO- makes lawnmower noises/

**lawnmower story will be explained one day

DON’T WANNA CRY

Wooed: “OH GOD JEONGHAN AND SEOKMIN ARE DANCING THIS HEART HAS NO DAMN SPACE FOR BOTH OF YOU PLEASE STOP”

Scooped: “I WANT TO CRY”

Hoshit: “ oh god it’s ending not like this please not like this it’s only been five minutes”

Hoshit and Jihooned: /inhales/ SEUNGCHEOL JEONGHAN JISOO JUNHUI SOONYOUNG WONWOO JIHOON MYUNGHO MINGYU SEOKMIN SEUNGKWAN HANSOL CHAN, ULGO SHIPJI AHNA

Emotional VCR

Hoshit: /WAILS, Cat 4 can hear her crying from VIP/

Jihooned/Scooped/Wooed?: HAHAHA we got friend zoned by Minghao

Hoshit: /more wailing, amount of tears can be used to fill 30 swimming pools/

HEALING

Junnie: OH SHIZZZ LOOK AT JUN CARRYING JOSHUA??? THAT’S SO FLUFFY OMFG MY LIFE IS COMPLETE.

Hoshit; notices that they are spraying water: “I WANT THE HOLY WATER I WAN- GODDAMIT SEVENTEEN TRAIN YOUR ARMS HOW CAN YOU ONLY SPLASH WATER 1 METRE AWAY WHAT KIND OF PUNY PEOPL- JIHOON IS CHASING CHAN GO MY BOY BE FREE”

Ending Ment

/When jihoon finishes talking/

Jihooned: Wts is he high on drugs or something

Hoshit: “i love seventeen”, she says, as tears stream down her face

Junnie teared up here when she heard Jun & Jisoo’s ment. But she couldn’t say anything because all the other admins were sitting far away. All she could do was try not to draw attention to herself.

END OF CONCERT

Hoshit: HOW DO I STOP STREAMING THIS AUDIO

Jihooned: Eh we still got hi touch

Hoshit: oh my God i want to die but i have to wait until after the hi touch

Junnie actually teared up again (what the actual heck) because she remembered Jun & Jisoo’s ment. (Ya’ll have to know, Junnie doesn’t cry often So this was a magical and emotional moment for her.)

Wooed & Scooped just sighed and hugged each other with happiness and feels everywhere

Aaaaaaa thank you for reading through this super long post full of our nonsense and don't worry, our hi touch experience + confessions will be revealed in another post one day~~

#seventeen #diamond edge #diamond edge singapore #diamond edge sg #scoups #seungcheol #jeonghan #joshua #jisoo #jun #hoshi #soonyoung #wonwoo #woozi #jihoon #the8 #minghao #mingyu #dk #dokyeom #seokmin #seungkwan #vernon #hansol #dino #chan #diamond life scenarios

[gleitzman]

B-boys on E

It's widely known that marijuana and hip hop are inextricably linked - just turn on the radio or take your pick of MCs becoming poster-boys of weed culture. However, there's a more obscure branch of rap references dating back to the early 90's that have another target in focus: ecstasy. In December of 2000, Simon Reynolds penned an article for the webzine of London-based record label Hyperdub, which now boasts artists such as DJ Rashad, Burial, and Martyn, about the rising trend of MDMA-related references in rap lyrics.

A comprehensive look into B-boys on E, I've republished the piece below alongside a playlist of every track mentioned in the article, including a few sub-2000's tracks that came to mind. Put down the blunt and pick up the pacifier.

Hip Hop and Ecstasy - Simon Reynolds

Magazine editors have a secret formula: "two things, that's just a coincidence--but three, that's a trend". Well, here's three pieces of evidence. On "Let's Get High" from his don't-call-this-a-comeback album The Chronic 2001, Dr. Dre declares " I just took some Ecstasy/Ain't no tellin what the side effects could be". In The Wire's Christmas issue, El-P of underground hip hop outfit Company Flow listed among his 1999 highlights trying Ecstasy "for the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth time". And gangsta rappers Bone Thugs-N-Harmony's latest album BTNH Resurrection contains the song "Ecstasy," inspired by the group's recent introduction to MDMA. The chorus features some of Bone Thugs private slang for the E sensation: "I feel so 'Z'/I feel so ziggety ziggety ziggety/Cause I'm floatin' in ecstasy.." Bizzy's so impressed with the "new shit" touted by their weed dealer that he even wishes Eazy E, Bone Thugs's deceased mentor, "was here to feel pillish, pillish, pillish, pillish."

Add to this reports of thugs and bitches buzzing on E at the Tunnel (New York's most hardcore and "street" rap club), MDMA references in tracks by Jay-Z, Eminem, DJ Quik, Nas, Three-6 Mafia, and Saafir, and persistent rumors about a certain rap mogul who's got a serious Ecstasy habit, and you've got more than a trend--you've got a phenomenon: Hip Hop America Gets Loved Up. It's happened as a knock-on effect of the astonishing surge in Ecstasy use in America over the last two years, itself triggered by a return to reliable, high-dose MDMA pills thanks to Mitshubishi and the brands that followed in its wake. The New York Times reported a 450 percent increase between 1998 and 1999 in Ecstasy seizures by police and customs (which usually roughly reflect the amount of Ecstasy on sale on the streets). The United States Custom Service is projecting a 1500 percent increase from 1999 to 2000! For the first time since it was legal in the early Eighties, MDMA is popular outside the rave scene, with college students and yuppies throwing E parties. And finally, the drug has made significant inroads into the rap community.

On the face of it, Ecstasy would not appear to be a B-boy drug. MDMA lowers one's emotional defences, promotes feelings of trust and tactile tenderness, defuses aggression. It basically creates the exact opposite mind-body-soul state to rap's paranoid and paramilitary ego, all threats and boasts and psychologically armored readiness for the outbreak of hostilities. It also seems really unlikely that your typical gangsta rapper would enjoy exploring Ecstasy's androgynizing effects--the way it makes men more able to express their emotions, be cuddly and affectionate, talk to women without sex as the primary goal, find it difficult to achieve an erection or have an orgasm. These swoony Ecstasy effects would probably be experienced as traumatic not pleasurable--threatening sensations of weakness, softness, E-masculation. Hip hop's ethos of "keeping it real," its concern with reflecting hardcore street realities of crime and incarceration, also conflicts with rave's Ecstasy-fuelled positivity and utopian hope. This dark-tinted realism was a common attitude in the early jungle scene, which was highly influenced by hip hop values. For many Black British junglists, Ecstasy was "false," a chemical haze of unreality that didn't resonate with their harsh experience of urban life.

Judging by the Ecstasy-inspired lyrics that have emerged from rap so far, though, even MDMA can't teach an old dogg new tricks. The sexual attitudes haven't improved one bit. Dr. Dre's lyric about just dropping an E goes straight into "All these fine bitches equal sex to me/plus I got this bad bitch layin' next to me". In "Ecstasy", Bone MC Flesh rhymes about "feelin’ hot and exotic with an arced cock/ I'm feelin' too sexy for my muthafuckin self/Gotta find my bitch and I’m gonna fuck her ass to death!". There are stories floating around about major ballers and shot-callers in the rap industry who throw parties at their mansions in the Hamptons (an expensive Long Island summer home area favored by Manhattan's wealthy and famous) where Ecstasy is primarily used to get the ladies "in the mood" for multiple-partner sex. As for the violence in rap lyrics, rhymes about guns and murda have not been replaced by spiritualized Ecstasy babble about P.L.U.R. (the American raver's mantra of "peace, love, unity and respect"). Unlike with Britain's reformed football hooligans during 1988's Summer of Love, we've yet to see the emergence of the "love thug" in hardcore hip hop. Perhaps the behavioral codes are too ingrained for rave's smiley-face to replace rap's "screwface"--the menacing scowl-sneer that signifies hip hop culture's taboo on showing your teeth.

Then again, it's early days yet, and Ecstasy is such a powerful drug that it's certain to have some affects on hip hop, both as a culture and as a music. Although jungle eventually adopted an anti-Ecstasy stance (favoring the "organic", herbal highs of marijuana over "chemicals"), as a form of music it could not have existed without its precursor genre, 1991-92 hardcore rave--whose sped up breakbeats and manic barrage of samples were basically "hip hop on E," rather than a mutant form of techno. Add Ecstasy to hip hop again, and the results could be as revolutionary as the emergence of jungle out of rave. Whether as a result of Ecstasy use or just an eerily prophetic prelude, there's been a flood of rap and R&B tracks that feature techno-like sounds and riffs over the last eighteen months: Ja Rule's "Holla Holla" with its snaking, writhing riff that sounds like nothing so much as a Roland 303 acid bassline; the staccato rave-style stabs in Destiny's Child's "Bugaboo," Ginuwine's "What's So Different," and Jay-Z's "Girls' Best Friend"; the house vamps and techno pulses in countless Cash Money tracks by Juvenile, B.G., Hot Boys and Lil Wayne, all produced by Mannie Fresh (who actually worked with Steve 'Silk' Hurley a decade ago).

Most recently Timbaland, who's talked about his fondness for electronica and groups like The Prodigy, has produced three tracks that positively drip with the influence of European Ecstasy culture, if not E itself. Aaliyah's smash hit "Try Again" rolls on a burbling Roland 303; the dirge-bass riff on Jay-Z's "Snoopy Track" makes it a rap "Dominator" or "Mentasm"; Nas featuring Ginuwine's "You Owe Me" has the slinky, lurching flow of 2-step garage. Indeed two-step ought to be the logical bridge between American "urban" (radio programmer code for black) music and house culture, since it is basically UK rave embracing and absorbing US R&B. 2-step garage is where the musical advances made during 10 years of collectively living at the cutting edge of rave's drug-technology interface ("caning it", in plain English slanguage) are now being folded back into the humanist, hypersexual pop sounds that ravers originally broke with to pursue manic sexless drug-noise (starting with acid house). As such 2-step could function for black Americans as a journey in the opposite direction, an acclimatisation phase before they get into Plastikman, Basement Jaxx, or The Mover. (Well, one can only dream, eh?). Actually, Armand Van Helden has been trying singlehandedly to be that demilitarized zone/interface between hip hop and house (he's obsessed with 1989 hip-house as this lost moment of possibility) but so far with zero impact in the US. His B-boy flirtations have even counted against him in the world of American deep house, where they don't want ruffnecks coming to the party (forgiveably, perhaps, given the rampant homophobia in hip hop). House music creeps in through the back door of Lil' Kim's new album The Notorious K.I.M., with tracks based on "French Kiss" by Lil Louis and "Break 4 Love' by Raze, and a pronounced Daft Punk-y flavor to "How Many Licks?"

Finally, OutKast's late 2000 release Stankovia is the first real hip hop example, overt and acknowledged by its creators, of a marked influence from rave music and Ecstasy. Big Boi and Andre 3000 go to raves in the Atlanta, Georgia area and even did field research in London clubs. They gave Stankonia faster b.p.m's than its easy-rolling predecessor Aquemini because "nowadays you got different drugs on the scene. X done hit the hood. It ain't chronic no more. They on some other speed-up type shit.... so that's why the tempo had to get a lot faster." The single "Bombs Over Baghdad" makes a botched if exciting stab at drum'n'bass (they're big fans of Photek) while "?" is a disorientating foray into the jungle: tangled breaks, chirruping synth-blurts, ravey riff-lets.

With the E'd up thugs and thuggettes reputedly drifting from the main floor of the Tunnel into the smaller house'n'techno room that it (god knows why) offers, it could be that the hip hop nation will turn onto electronic dance music big-time, finally ending rap's contempt for house music as mere gay disco. Sonically, the differences between the two forms of music have never been smaller---for instance, both techno and rap have been influenced recently by a revival of interest in Eighties electro. As for the drug's cultural impact.... Ecstasy's "loved up" vibe fits perfectly with hip hop's endless professions of loyalty for the crew, family, click, posse. E will only exaggerate this aspect of blood-brother solidarity and "thug love". But what about the hate side of rap's soul? Can Ecstasy lead to a truce in rap's symbolic warfare? Will "call-that-a-worldview?" couplets like "all I know is that bitches suck dick and niggas bleed" (The Lox) lose their appeal to hearts that no longer feel hard? What can be said safely is that Ecstasy had seemed like a drug that held no more surprises in terms of its cultural effects, given that the clubbing-and-raving industries efficiently channel the energy it catalyzes into tidy profits (eg Gatecrasher, whose slogan is "Market Leaders In Having-It Right Off Leisure Ware"--they might as well just put "Sponsored By Mitshubishi, Nudge Nudge Wink Wink" on the ads). But now that the drug has found its way to one of the few demographic and subcultural zones it had so far left untouched---African-American youth---it could be that Ecstasy has new tricks up its sleeves, new stories to tell, new revolutions to unfurl. (Just wait 'til it hits the dancehall community in Jamaica). Watch this space.....

#rap #drugs #ecstasy #music

[greygamer]

Brain Dump: Riverdale ‘The River’s Edge’

1. All right, Archie Meets Twin Peaks, let's fricking do this.

2. The thing is, I'm not sure I'm a big enough Archie fan to get all the references.

3. I love the stark white outfits on these two.

4. Dilton!

5. Madchen!

6. Oh, this is all being written by Jughead. Because obviously.

7. And ... Veronica?

8. Wow that was kind of a whirlwind of myster and death.

9. Haha, Veronica is out of touch.

10. "What is a Chock Lit Shop?" I don't know, maybe try sounding it out?

11. "One summer can change anything." I feel like might be the subtitle for this series.

12. "They weren't poems. Poems are dumb. I was writing songs. Jeez."

13. Introducing ... the love triangle.

14. That wasn't too on the nose or anything.

15. How many teenagers are familiar with the works of Truman Capote?

16. Also, wait, is Betty's last name Goober?

17. And Betty gets the sex-shaming talk from mom.

18. "I refilled your Aderall" -- hahahaha.

19. Reggie and Moose!

20. I already hate Reggie. That's probably a good sign.

21. Veronica's literary references are on point. But what the hell did her father do?

22. Josie's kind of a bitch. Though "Justin Gingerlake" was a pretty good burn.

23. How convenient that the school is having this massive memorial for Jason on the day that Veronica needed to know exactly what was going on about Jason.

24. Wait, is this a memorial, or is she having a press conference?

25. MISS GRUNDY GOT HOT.

26. Oh, Archie, that's inappropriate.

27. "Let's talk about music. Like the sweet sound of my penis inside your ... wait, sorry."

28. Archie's dad and Veronica's mom dated? This is so soap opera.

29. Wait, Archie's dad is single? These two are so hooking up.

30. Ah, fraud and embezzlement. I guess that explains what's up with Veronica's dad.

31. Come on Betty, shit or get off the Archie.

32. "Is cheerleading still a thing?" What, you go to school here, you'd think you'd know if it was.

33. Betty and Veronica in cheerleading outfits. Sure, I'm down for that.

34. "It is about the music! Like the sweet sound of my ... wait, sorry."

35. OH NOES.

36. Things is getting all Twin Peaksy up in this thang. Can't talk about what you might have heard because you were making out with someone you shouldn't have been.

37. "Where's the heat, where's the sizzle?" I'm not sure completing your cheer with a makeout session is traditional.

38. Holy shit, this show is just flinging exposition at the wall here. I'm having a hard time keeping up with this all.

39. OH GOD STOP WITH THE POP CULTURE REFERENCES.

40. Though that look is pretty Betty Draper season one.

41. So Veronica isn't the rich bitch character any more, eh? I guess that'll allow her and Betty to forge a better friendship.

42. Betty. YOU SUCK AT PICKING UP ARCHIE.

43. Don't dance around like you just accomplished something awesome, Betty. You totally just bombed on picking up Archie.

44. This feeling like all of the parents in town have a secret backstory with each other is kind of lovely, and I hope it pays off nicely.

45. Okay, so maybe Veronica does get to be the rich girl again if that bag of money is any indicator.

46. Ah, Archie's Dad, so wise.

47. Man, Archie's Dad seem like a pretty stellar guy. Hope he doesn't have a dark past or anything.

48. "Music or football? Cougar or peer?"

49. Wait, did we just get a dick joke about Moose?

50. Man, this Cheryl check is like everywhere.

51. "In honor of my dead brother, here's a cover a song that was reportedly played on the night my parents fucked and brought him to life." LADY, THIS IS GODDAMN CREEPY.

52. "I'm in the mood for chaos" -- ME TOO!

53. Oh, it's gonna be veronica, isn't it?

54. Yup, yup, yup.

55. So, I mean, there's nothing against just talking in the closet, right?

56. Don't use the word "probing" when you're in the closet of love.

57. Geez, Archie, you don't need to be juggling three different girls, do you?

58. Who am I kidding, of course you do.

59. You guys really shouldn't be surprised that Betty took off.

60. Yeah, not only should you not track her down together, but you shouldn't track her down with Veronica's lipstick still on your face.

61. Are we finally going to get a bit of Jughead?

62. Why the fuck was the coach talking to Pop Tate about Archie's footbal career?

63. OH, ARCHIE AND JUGHEAD HAVE SOME DARK HISTORY.

64. I'm pretty sure that telling someone "I'll never be good enough for you," has never, ever, ever worked.

65. Man, Jughead just knows EVERYTHING.

66. Oh, well, it looks like Jason's death wasn't an accident after all. BUT WE ALL KNEW THAT, DIDN'T WE?

67. All right. Well. I think I actually enjoyed that more than I would have expected.

68. I certainly hope as we move forward that there are fewer epic explosions of exposition, but there's definitely enough balls in the air at this point that I'm curious to know more.

69. Also, come on, more Jughead. He's obviously going to be the coolest character.

#brain dump #tv #television #review #commentary #archie #riverdale #the cw