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bwbatta · 3 years

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six - confessions

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst

Word count: 2960

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one, turn it upp! ...I won’t lie, i’ve been putting off writing this purely because I don’t want to stop writing this. Anyway, the final part is finally here and I’m so happy to be sharing it with you all!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 5

Draco signed his name quickly and looked back at the letter he’d written. It was simple enough to get his point across, yet the repercussions from sending this could be huge.

The blonde heir was adamant though. If this is what it took, then he would gladly accept whatever consequences came his way. He could figure it out, he always did.

Taking a breath in to help stabilise his thoughts and nerves, he quickly put his quill down before he wrote anything else that wasn’t needed. Reading it through once more, he made sure his words were enough for now.

Father,

I apologise for not responding sooner to your previous letter, I was at a loss for a while as to what to write.

I understand our family values and as much as I uphold them for our family’s benefit, my relationship or any of my relationships are my choice. Whilst she is not pureblood, she is not muggleborn either and both of her parents have magic, which is why I ask you to at the very least consider giving Y/N a chance.

With respect, I will not determine my relationship on your opinions, especially since you haven’t met her.

You understand there aren’t many things I would go against you on, but this is something I feel particularly strongly about.

Regards,

Draco

Nodding his head, he quickly folded the letter and attached it to his family’s owl. With a screech, the bird took off.

All Draco could do now was wait.

“Please?! You’re the best person at charms that I know, you would be my favourite person on earth?!”

“Blaise-”

“Y/N please, Flitwick might push for me to be kicked out of Hogwarts if I don’t pass this test”

You snorted unattractively as you walked down the corridor, arms riddled with books. On your way to the Herbology greenhouses for your afternoon lesson, you were blitzed by Blaise who had been trying to convince you for the last five minutes to help him write his essay which was due in a couple days time.

Blaise and you had nearly made it into the greenhouses when Professor Sprout stopped him at the door.

“You’re not in my class today Mr Zabini, I suggest you get heading towards your own class before you’re late.”

The elder witch gave him a stern look to which he smiled at, trying to lower her strict exterior.

“I just need to talk to Y/N about something really important really quickly, Professor. It’ll only take a minute?”

“No” she rolled her eyes at the boy, “you can do that in your own time.”

“But, Professor-”

“No buts Zabini-”

“Alright Blaise, I’ll do it” you finally caved, seeing as the boy would most likely be reduced to ash from Sprout’s harsh stare otherwise.

“Astronomy tower, 8pm?”

“Wait-”

“Okay bye!”

Without another word he turned and rushed off back inside the castle, heading to whatever his next lesson was, leaving you partially annoyed, partially awkward at the look Sprout was now sending you.

“Inside” she cocked her head towards the doorway and with a defeated look you headed into the greenhouse.

You hadn’t been back to the Astronomy tower, despite classes, since that fight between Draco and you and you weren’t too keen on returning. Blaise however, had given you no choice in the matter as you probably wouldn’t see him until that time you’d agreed to meet. This meant you’d have to suck up your anxieties about the tower and get over yourself.

If only it were that easy.

Your free period was rather quiet today you reckoned but you couldn’t put your finger on why it was so quiet?

The twins weren’t around and neither were Harry and Ron, yet that was normal since you were studying in the library with Hermione. Though Hermione didn’t really talk much when you two studied, something still felt off.

Not to mention the other thing which was bothering you was how Blaise acted earlier? He was normally the most relaxed person you knew, but his earlier rushed and fretted actions also seemed wrong.

You snorted at the thought in your head; imagine if he was trying to set you back up with Draco at the astronomy tower later?!

Another sigh left your lips as you continued to try and figure out what else felt off. Hermione’s eyes darted from the essay she was writing to you sat opposite her.

“Is there something bothering you?”

You met her stare awkwardly and shrugged slightly.

“I don’t know, does something feel off to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too quiet, you know? I can’t put my finger on what it is though.”

“Maybe it’s because that blonde tumour isn't attached to your side anymore?!” Hermione snorted as she turned back to her work, leaving you staring at her with an unreadable expression.

Ignoring the remark of how the witch had described Draco, she was right in the way that he did used to surprise you while you were studying.

Was that it? You were missing him being near you?

You hadn’t really spoken to the Malfoy, only small comments in class when you were next to each other but apart from that, he wasn’t constantly next to you anymore and that bothered you.

You had to admit you did like fake dating Draco, but that was over, it was a joke, a favour, nothing more. So why the hell would you accept anything to go back to him annoying you, him being at your side constantly, or his arm around you 90% of the time?

Then you froze.

You knew exactly why.

Holy shit, you loved him. Like actually loved him.

Slowly starting to freak yourself out, you sat back in your chair as your mind whirred around that fact.

He’s Draco.

He’s one of your best friends and now everything was so messed up because he’s Draco.

Stubborn, bratty, arrogant Draco.

Who likes Draco?!

And then it hits you again. You do, you really really do.

Because he’s Draco.

Because he cares about you and would do anything for you. Just like you’d do anything for him. He might be stubborn, but so are you. He might be bratty and spoilt because of his parents, but he actively spoils you just because he can. And he might be arrogant to everyone else, but you know how humble he could be and acts around you. His reaction after you opened your Christmas present proved that enough.

Holy shit.

These feelings are going to ruin whatever’s between you, friendship or not, because how the hell could you keep this to yourself? How the hell could you not tell him you loved him?

The only thing was... you were the second person to ask yourself that today.

Draco paced in the tower, a letter held tightly in his hand as he waited for you to show up. Guaranteed it wasn't 8pm yet, but he was still so anxious for when you did actually turn up. Were you going to turn up?

A lot of things had flown through his mind today, some putting him on edge as to whether his plan to get you back would work, yet nothing had made him as anxious as when the letter arrived from his father earlier that day.

It was slightly wrinkled now from how much he had fiddled with it in his hands and with a frown, Draco tucked it back into his pocket, forcing himself to take a long breath as he did so and run his hands nervously through his hair.

Not even a moment passed before he heard the door below slam shut and your footsteps approach. A brief flash of panic flew through his body like he’d been electrocuted, what if this was a bad idea? What if you didn’t want him like he wanted you and he would just look like a complete idiot?

All the thoughts in his head however vanished as soon as you reached the top step and your eyes locked on his.

Neither of you said anything at first and the silence was almost deafening.

“Fucking Blaise,” you rolled your eyes at yourself. “Earlier I bet myself he’d do something like this.”

“It was actually my idea”

“...I see”

“Surprised?”

You snorted

“No.” You hid your grin at the look of offence present on his face, “I knew one of you would come up with something like this. I had my money on Blaise as he was the one I spoke to earlier. Despite how much you love being mysterious and complicated Draco, you’re like an open book to me.”

The wizard let out a snort, he had a feeling she would figure something was up. They really did know each other well.

The silence stilted in the air again and felt heavy despite the fresh air surrounding them.

You looked down, avoiding the blue eyes that watched you. Despite being in love with him, you had no idea what to actually say to him. Luckily he took the lead.

“It was really stupid.”

You frowned, before you forced yourself to glance towards him, eyes catching on how he was looking at you.

“What was?”

“The fact we thought we could pretend and fake an entire relationship with no consequences.”

You didn’t say anything.

“I mean let’s be honest,” Draco scoffed a laugh, “we really thought that everything would go back to how it was before? That was stupid. Also the fact that the whole ‘having a fake girlfriend’ thing wasn’t really working for me.”

He paused to assess your reaction for a moment before continuing on.

“We were great as a fake couple, sure. We were also great at being friends, I mean... that was before I kissed you and fell in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. A smile grew faintly on his face as he took in your reaction. After realising you weren’t going to bolt, he took a couple steps closer until he stood right before you, his toes almost touching your own.

“This whole fake dating thing was so stupid in so many ways except for one; how it made me realise how much I genuinely want to be your boyfriend.”

Draco shrugged sightly like it was no big deal, but inside he had to remind his lungs to work.

Why hadn’t you said anything yet? Maybe because he can’t stop his mouth from talking? Should he stop talking? His mouth opened again before he could stop himself.

“I want you. I want us. But I want it for real, not some half-assed, pathetic excuse of relationship which is all just an act and makes us question where we stand with each other.”

His voice lowered to a whisper but you heard him perfectly.

“Draco... I want nothing more than to be with you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, but I can’t help the fact that I’m not a pureblood and your parents won’t accept me-”

“Wait, okay, hold on.”

Digging his hand into his pocket, he fished out the crumpled letter and attempted to flatten it out slightly.

“I sent my father a letter in response the one you read the other day and I got this back earlier today. Just... just read it.”

He held the letter out at you with such a serious expression causing you to frown, you took it from him wondering what was in it. Opening the parchment, your eyes immediately flicked back to the blonde once more, only to find him watching your every movement.

“Draco,

I don’t believe you understand the seriousness of what you’re asking from your mother and I. You have a duty to this family to uphold and despite the notion that you wouldn’t disobey me with much, this is still a vital factor of those duties.

Nevertheless, you expressed your seriousness for this girl, coupled with your mother’s bickering about at least meeting her, I will give you one chance. We will meet her if she values the seriousness and significance of our values. If she does not however, then you will end whatever you have with her.

You understand in the near future, things will change. You need to be as prepared as possible.

Regards,

Lucius Malfoy”

You read the letter once through, then twice, then once more. Your mind was in a flurry at the words, taking them in and the weight they held. Draco’s parents had agreed to give you a chance, however it came with a price and one you were in two minds about taking.

On one hand, you could be with Draco and support him through whatever hell was coming your way, as long as you abided by their blood purity mania, which, if Harry was right, meant Voldemort. On the other hand, it meant not having the Malfoy boy in your life.

Your eyes finally left the words and flicked back up to meet Draco’s own. His expression was unreadable as he waited for your reaction.

“Well, that’s intense”

“You can’t really expect anything less from my father.”

“I gathered that.”

Your eyes landed on the elder Malfoy’s name once more and you bit your lip slightly.

“I said once I would be willing to get mixed up in this for you, and I stand by it, Draco. I don’t know whatever's going to happen in the future but I know I want you by my side through it.”

“I can’t ask you to do that-“

“You’re not asking me, I’m telling you I want you and I’ll do whatever it takes to be at your side.”

“Y/N-”

“Draco, I love you, let me do this for you. I can play whoever your parents want me to be.”

Draco didn’t say anything more but stared at you with a half smile on his face. Your eyebrows knitted together as you caught sight of it, not really sure where the expression came from. Talking about faking your views on blood purity and Voldemort wasn’t really a cause for smiling.

“What?”

“Say it again?”

“Say what again?”

“You love me.”

You realised then. You’d told him you loved him in amidst all that but you hadn't even realised it. Well, that’s one way to admit it.

“I love you,” you said with no hesitation as a smile grew on your own face. “I want you, for real. No fake relationship, just us.”

As quick as you’d finished speaking, Draco’s lips were on yours. It was chaotic, unscripted and messy, but it was real.

Your hands slid to the back of his head, fingers burying themselves in his hair as his hands gripped your waist tightly, pressing you to him. He kissed you with such passion you swore your heart stopped for a split second.

How the hell had you both faked this for so long?!

Taking a break, he pulled away but rested his forehead on yours, not wanting too much distance.

“If you’re all in Y/N, so am I. I’ll protect you with my life, you may’ve been my friend first, but you’re everything to me now.”

His lips pressed against yours again, much softer this time like he was trying to memorise and convince himself you were really there. That this was really happening.

“Draco Malfoy, I’m all in.”

You were surprised the next day for two reasons.

One; for how many people had actually bet on Draco’s and your relationship. George got his five galleons back from Fred again after the news reached them. He happily took the money from his brother before lifting his glass to you from across the hall in thanks.

Both Crabbe and Goyle owed Blaise 10 galleons, though you supposed he had an unfair advantage, (not that you’d tell the duo).

But the second thing which surprised you was the letter you received at lunch from the headmaster himself.

Dumbledore had barely even looked in your direction, let alone spoken to you personally, so the note you got from him asking to meet him in his office later spiked your anxiety.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Hermione shrugged before lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’s probably something to do with the DA or Umbridge.”

“Hermione, I didn’t even think he knew I existed, now he’s asking me to come have a chat?”

“Just go, you’ll never know otherwise and you’ll keep fretting.”

The rest of your day passed quickly and you found yourself before the headmaster’s office later that evening. Taking another quick look at the note in your hand, scribbled at the bottom was a comment about him liking sherbet lemons which stuck out to you.

“Sherbet lemons?”

The gargoyle surprised you by jumping out the way, opening up the staircase to you. Without another thought, you climbed the stairs and knocked on the wooden door.

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, Dumbledore turned to face you as you entered the room. With a smile, he greeted you and offered you the seat opposite him as he took his own.

Sitting, your knee started to bounce while your anxiety kicked in wondering what the hell was going on.

“Y/N- can I call you Y/N? Relax, you’re not in any trouble at all, don’t worry.”

“Can I ask then, why am I here sir?”

“Well, I actually have a job for you if you’re interested? I understand you’re in a unique position where you’re willing to do anything possible to be with the young Mr Malfoy.”

You immediately frowned, how the hell did he know that?!

“What kind of job?”

“A job to join the Order of the Phoenix. I want you to act as a spy for me within Voldemort’s ranks.”

#Draco Malfoy #dating Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy series #Draco Malfoy Headcanon #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco #draco malfoy imagine #draco imagine #draco malfoy x you #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry potter x you #harry potter series

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dameronology · 3 years

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tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 5

summary: you like jack. jack likes you. it doesn’t have to be complicated - but that’s now how things work. {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing

sorry for the huge gap between this update and the last one!! university has been manic and somehow writing 1500 words for an essay is much harder than writing 4k words for a fan fiction. i hope you enjoy!!

- jazz

You weren’t in a relationship.

This was not a relationship.

Sure, you spent every night at Jack’s apartment and sure, he made you dinner three times a week and sure, he did everything a boyfriend would but no, he was not your boyfriend. You didn’t do relationships - especially not with cowboys. This was, as you had agreed prior, just a bit of fun. It was nice not having to go back to an empty apartment in a strange city, and even nicer to wake up in his warm arms. Because that’s what Jack Daniels was: warm - and funny and kind, all things which continued to surprise you. Every time he offered to help you with your paperwork or made you coffee in the morning, you couldn’t help but ask why. For him, it was his second nature; he cared about you and so, he looked after you. For you, having been trained in an office where it was every man for himself, it was hard to get your head around.

You didn’t mean to let him do much for you. It was just that you hadn’t ever had anyone to look after you; it had always been you against the world. And, on the occasions he wasn’t being a pain in the ass, Eggsy.

Eggsy! Fuck.

You shot up in bed, almost rolling out as you realised what time it was. 7AM. Midday in London, where your best friend had been waiting for your call almost two hours ago. The daily phone call that had become, of recently, weekly. You hadn’t mean for your priorities to slip, but with both Calahan and Jack keeping you busy, it had become hard. You were already stretching yourself in a thousand different directions on a good day - then there were the days where you had three witnesses to do recon on, twenty arrests to file in the system and a suspect to interrogate. Eggsy knew firsthand what it was like but you’d been perfectly able to keep up with the daily calls during your first few weeks here - then Jack happened, and you’d started to slip. Completely unintentionally, of course, but was that not just part of adult life?

‘Jack!’ You tried to wriggle free of his grip, but it only tightened. ‘I gotta get up-’

‘- no, you don’t.’ He wrapped his arms your waist, pulling you into his chest. ‘It’s a Sunday. Like hell do you need to get up on a Sunday.’

‘I have to call Eggsy.’ You attempted to wrench his arms off of you.

Jack lifted his head off the pillow, revealing a tousled mess of dark hair and languid brown eyes. He blinked for a moment, offering you a sleepy smile when your eyes met.

‘Promise you’ll come back?’ He asked.

‘Promise.’ You pressed a quick kiss to his lips, smiling against him when he finally released you from his hold.

You pattered across the room, grabbing your phone off of the nightstand as you passed. As expected, there were six missed calls from Eggsy and a text with a a gif of a sad puppy. You felt a pang in your chest -- had you been a terrible friend? This was the longest time you’d spent apart in your entire lives. He was a constant presence and maybe that’s why you’d run to Jack so easily. No, you pushed that thought aside. You were with Jack because you liked him. It was nothing to do with anyone else.

‘Look who finally found the time to call me.’ Eggsy’s sarcastic drawl came down the phone after exactly two rings.

‘I am so sorry.’ You groaned. ‘I overslept.’

‘You never oversleep.’ He shot back. ‘You get up at 5am every Sunday to go for a run and watch Friends.’

‘You’re the one who was always banging on at me to start enjoying the luxuries of sleeping in.’ You reminded him. ‘So I did.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Eggsy teased. ‘So how come you’re not at your apartment?’

You froze. ‘I am.’

‘Really? Because I tried your landline five times and you didn’t answer.’

‘What is this?’ You scowled. ‘Interrogate your best friend day or something?!’

‘Stop trying to change the subject.’ He shot back. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Whose name?’

‘The guy you’re clearly sleeping with.’

Another groan. ‘He doesn’t have one.’

‘He must do if it’s serious enough to distract you from...nevermind.’

‘From what?’ You asked.

‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’

‘Eggsy. Just tell me.’ You stressed. ‘It’s me.’

‘That’s my point.’ He replied. ‘Look, I didn’t want to say anything because it’s gonna make me sound like an arsehole, but you’ve been distant these past few weeks.’

‘I’ve been working. You know how important this job is.’ You sighed, running a hand through your hair. ‘And the timezone isn’t helping.’

‘You say that, but then you’re with a guy-’

‘- I’m not!’ You cut him off.

You were tired. Too tired for this. You loved your best friend but sometimes, his petulance could rub you the wrong way. You’d been so important to one another for so long that Eggsy sometimes acted a little...entitled. Entitled to every second of your attention, entitled to know every detail of everything in your life. Most of the time, you would divulge - and that probably didn’t help the situation - but this? You wanted to keep it yourself. It was personal. Too personal even for him.

‘You’re the one who left early to be with Tilde and I didn’t whine or kick up a fuss!’ You snapped.

‘So you had a problem-’

‘- I don’t have the energy for this right now.’ You cut him off. ‘It’s early and I’ve been working my arse off all week. This is my first day off in forever.’

‘And you still managed to find time for a hook up and not call me?’

‘It’s not a hook up.’ You quickly said. Quicker than you would have liked, actually. ‘I’m just doing something for me for once, Eggsy.’

‘I encourage it but not at the expense of-’

‘- of what?’ You snapped. ‘Of you?’

‘Exactly.’

‘I’m going back to bed.’ You announced.

‘But we haven’t spoken properly for days!’

‘Yeah, and you still managed to make this into a woe me, she’s doing things that don’t revolve around me! conversation.’ You sardonically laughed.

‘What do you want me to say? Sorry for missing you?’

Eggsy was attached to you. Probably a little too attached. It had caused problems early in his relationship with Tilde and he didn’t even know fully about Jack and was already kicking up a fuss. You couldn’t blame him; you’d grown up together, and you were the only constant person in his life. Whenever things had been bad at home, you were his escape. Whenever he found himself getting into trouble for hundredth time, you never strayed away from fighting his corner. He’d been there for you too; fighting off bad boyfriends and calling out any sexist co-workers. It was just that sometimes his sentiment extended a little too far, to the point where he got offended if he wasn’t the centre of your universe.

‘No, Eggsy.’ You murmured. ‘I just...I’m sorry I snapped, and I’m sorry I was shit and missed your call, but I’m not sorry for not giving you the 411 on everything I do.’

‘I give you the 411 on everything I do.’

‘And I’ve told you a million times that you don’t have have too.’ You replied. ‘I have a life outside our friendship and you’re going to have to get used to it.’

‘That wasn’t what I was trying to get at.’ Eggsy began. ‘I just meant that I know you and I know you don’t do relationships but it kinda seems like you’re doing one right now and I just...don’t forget about me, yeah?’

Glancing over your shoulder, you checked that the bedroom door was still closed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Jack to hear, but discussing the private details of your thing together to somebody else wasn’t really something you wanted him to hear. Especially when he barely knew Eggsy.

‘I could never forget about you, Egghead.’ You softly smiled. ‘But this is not a relationship, okay? It’s just something to keep me busy whilst I’m in the city. Both parties are very much aware and I promise you that I know what I’m doing.’

(You didn’t).

‘Okay. I’ll let you get back to sleep.’ Eggsy chuckled. ‘Love you, old pal.’

‘Love you more, old chum.’

Your heart was a little heavy as you hung up. You missed him dearly but you liked what you had going here; people actually listened to you at Statesman and whatever the hell was going on with Jack felt good. You’d felt confident in what you’d said to Eggsy about it not being a relationship, but you couldn’t help but panic a tiny bit. What if you were slipping further and further towards the point of no return? What if you were becoming so comfortable that even if you did fall into some accidental, domestic situation, you were too attached to admit it? That went against everything you fundamentally were. Jack went against everything you fundamentally were - and yet, you were so ready to shrug it off. It wasn’t bad to let someone look after you, right? You could stop whenever you wanted, but it hadn’t reached that point just yet.

Jack was still awake when you crept back into the bedroom; he was staring at the ceiling, eyes heavy with sleep, but open nonetheless. He didn’t turn to look at you when you crawled back onto the mattress, instead just reaching an arm out towards you as you collapsed against his side. There was something...grounding about him. Steady and comforting. He spent most of his time humouring your finicky and pedantic nature, constantly reminding you to calm the fuck down and take a breather. He’d been teaching you to take things a little less seriously, and it felt good.

‘How’s Eggsy?’ He murmured quietly, eyes falling shut again.

‘He’s...’ you dropped your head against his shoulder, pondering for a moment. ‘Eggsy.’

Jack’s chest shook with a light chuckle. ‘You sounded a little stressed on the phone.’

‘He was just asking a lot of questions.’ You replied. ‘More than I have the answers to.’

‘About what?’ He asked. ‘Me?’

‘A little.’ You explained.

Jack made a quiet mmm sound, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you closer. He pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled you under chin. You didn’t resist - he was comfortable and warm, and you felt safe like this. The actions were a direct antithesis to the vortex of panic and confusion in your brain. The more you did stuff like this - soft mornings and stolen kisses and sleepily pillow talk - the less easy it would become to cut it all off at a minute’s notice. It’s not that you wanted to do so, but knowing you could was what offered that extra little bit of comfort. It was like an extra fire escape in a big building, or an extra parachute on an airplane.

‘What are we, Jack?’ You asked quietly. ‘Jack?’

Your question was met with a snore.

Jack knew that something was off the following day.

You normally would have stayed at his apartment for the entire day, as you had for the last three weekends, but instead, you’d left at midday with a bullshit excuse about paperwork. He hadn’t argued it. Jack was very much aware of your shining individualism and need for time to yourself, so he didn’t think much of it. It was the same when you’d aired every text he’d sent, and the same when you didn’t ask him to give you a lift on Monday morning. He was a little torn between wondering if you were just being unwittingly taking time for yourself, or if he’d said or done something. Surely you would have said something, right? You always had done before. Of all the people he knew, you were the one who would call others out for their shit.

The final straw had come when you weren’t in the office when he got in. Your desk was empty, and there was no sign of you having been there at all since Friday. No faint smell of Chanel in the air, no discarded Starbucks cup or terribly written stick notes. Nothing that he’d come to associate you with.

‘Tequila?’ Jack stuck his head out the door, eyes catching his colleague’s as he drifted down the hall.

‘Boss?’ Tequila stopped, giving him a nod. ‘Sup?’

‘Have you seen Percy anywhere?’ He asked.

‘Yeah, she’s in Ginger’s office.’ He replied. ‘And damn, she looks good today. Heels and-’

‘- don’t drool.’ Whiskey cut him off. ‘It’s not a good look on you.’

Why were you in Ginger’s office? You never worked there. Heck, he didn’t know that the two of you were that close. You didn’t seem like the type of person who had time for friends. Eggsy was the exception, of course, but Jack saw him more as your weird, surrogate son than anything else.

Sure enough, Tequila had been right - about both things. You were in Ginger’s office and you did look amazing. Not that it was different from any other day, but you were wearing a new lipstick shade that day and your hair had been done slightly differently. He couldn’t blame the guy for making a comment on it, even if it had made his blood boil. Jack knew that he didn’t really have the right, because you weren’t...exclusive or anything. All part of him was beginning to wish you were, but he knew that wasn’t your style. This was the closest he was ever going to get and frankly, he was just grateful somebody as breath taking as you was giving him the time of day.

‘Hey, Whiskey.’ Ginger saw him first. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I need my agent.’ Jack replied. ‘Got some paperwork on Calahan.’

‘I know, I’ve got it here.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Ginger is helping me with it.’

‘Not that paperwork.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Other paperwork.’

‘We don’t have other paperwork, Ja- Whiskey.’

‘We do. And I need your help with it.’ He said. ‘Now.’

‘Like right now?’ You frowned.

‘Yes, agent.’

Agent? Had he just called you agent? Freaking Merlin called you that. It did make sense, because they were technically both your bosses, but Jack wasn’t...well, he was Jack. Jack who you’d spent every night with for the past three weeks. Jack who made you dinner every night. Jack who you’d had a thousand deep conversations with.

‘I guess I’ll see you around.’ You forced a smile at Ginger.

‘Sure thing!’ She smiled back, not picking up on the tension.

The pair of you walked back to your shared office in silence, shared for the sound of your heels on the floor and the traffic outside. Neither of you had spoken for twelve hours and yet, there was some kind of tense atmosphere slowly taking over the space between you with each passing second. For a pair that were normally so good at talking, you sure had failed at it.

Jack shut the door as soon as you entered - actually, he slammed it. It made you jump slightly, turning around to face him with a scowl.

‘The fuck’s going on, Whiskey?’

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ He grunted. ‘What’s with all the sudden quiet? You doing a sponsored silence or something?’

‘No.’ You leant against your desk, not faltering. He was lucky that looks couldn’t kill.

‘So why are you avoiding me?’

‘Why do you think I’m avoiding you?!’

‘I don’t know, darling - maybe the fact you left early yesterday, you’ve been ignoring my texts and calls and the fact you weren’t in the office this morning?’

‘Well, I guess you got me there.’ You muttered. ‘I just...Eggsy said something yesterday and it freaked me out a little.’

Jack faltered slightly. ‘What?’

‘He said it seemed like I was in a relationship.’ You explained. ‘And it made me realised that we’re really slipping towards that territory and it’s just not something I’m able to do.’

‘So, what? You wanna stop this whole thing?’

‘No!’ You exclaimed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Hey, c’mhere.’ Jack crossed the room, gently taking your hands in his. ‘What are you so scared of, sweetheart?’

‘Nothing. I’m not scared of anything.’ You tried to puff your chest out, and he could only laugh.

‘I know what it’s about.’ He placed a hand on your cheek. ‘Remember all that shit you spewed about not needing anyone? About how you never needed anyone to look after you?’

You nodded.

‘It’s not that don’t need anyone - I think you’re scared to.’ He explained. ‘Now, I’m not saying you need me, because I think you might slap this hat right off my goddamn head if I do, but I am saying that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been bordering on the territory of letting me look after you these past few weeks., and that is scary for you.’

‘Maybe I have.’

‘And that’s okay, sugar.’ He stressed. ‘You’re allowed to want someone to look after you, without needing someone to look after you. There’s a difference.’

‘There is?’

‘You don’t know a damn thing, do you?’

‘I don’t think I do.’ You bit your lip, eyes falling to the ground.

Jack chuckled. ‘Everything we said still stands -- all that about this only being whilst you’re in New York, about it not getting in the way of our work. I know this is more serious than we planned but I’m still down for it if you are.’

‘I just...there is one more thing.’

‘What is it?’

‘Ginger and I were talking - not about you, you just kinda came up - and she uh...’

‘She said I’m the reason she’s not in the field, didn’t she?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s...that’s complicated.’

‘It doesn’t seem complicated.’ You urged. ‘She’s a good agent. She works hard and she at least deserves a chance.’

‘You trust me, don’t you?’

‘Why are you answering my questions with questions?’ You thinned your eyes at him. ‘But yeah, I do.’

‘Then trust me when I say that I have my reasons.’ He said. ‘Please?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘So, are we good?’

‘We’re good.’

You didn’t resist when Jack pulled you into a tight hug, or when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He held your head to his chest, hand on the back of your head for a moment, letting out a small sigh. It was easy to listen to what he’d said, about trusting him and it’s complicated - in fact, it was a little hard to think about anything when the faint smell of his aftershave was swarming your senses, warm body pressed to yours.

But still, you couldn’t push away the nagging feeling at the back of your head.

taglist: @b0nnyzz @xremember-me-notx @somenerdyuser @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @javisjeanjacket @phoenixhalliwell @no-droids-on-sunday @paintballkid711 @waatermelon-sugaar @hepburnwritess @haileyybird @xjaywritesx @jabbajambler @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @welcometothepedroverse @wickedmuse (if you wanna be added, pls drop me a msg!)

#this was meant to end with angst but i couldn't do it #and i had to include the ginger thing because its mentioned in the movies and i have my theory #but more on that next chapter #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels imagine #pedro pascal character headcanons

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cloud9in · 3 years

Text

The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1-

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

- Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this.

...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine.

My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows.

***

...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed.

Sincerely, your STD free son

It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced.

Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life.

Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

Song lyrics…

That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest.

Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet?

***

The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her.

Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

“6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.”

Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

“Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

“Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

“Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

***

Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

“Hey!”

He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

“Hey wait up!”

The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

“I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

“No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

“Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

“I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

“No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

“Well you see it’s a letter..”

“Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

“I thought it seemed romantic..”

“And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

“I- I can’t help you.”

“But if you just add a few more words-”

“I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social.

Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!”

Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. “Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be?

But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

***

“One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

“Deal!”

Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

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

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

#queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #mc x poppy #playchoices #I couldn't come up with a unique title #throw some ideas if you have #do share your opinion on this #it is valued #oblivious bea is a pain in the ass #but certainly fun to write

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beatriceeagle · 4 years

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I'm more of a fantasy than sci-fi person, but consider my interest piqued. Why should I watch farscape?

Okay, the thing is, every Farscape fan’s pitch on Why You, Yes You, Should Watch Farscape ends up sounding very similar, and that’s because Farscape is a black hole that sucks you in and does things to your brain, and after you’ve watched it you are never, ever the same, which incidentally is basically the plot of Farscape.

I would summarize the basic plot for you, but that’s work, and luckily, the show’s credits sequence includes a handy summary that I will provide instead of doing that work: “My name is John Crichton, an astronaut. A radiation wave hit, and I got shot through a wormhole. Now I’m lost in some distant part of the universe on a ship, a living ship, full of strange alien life forms. Help me. Listen, please. Is there anybody out there who can hear me? I’m being hunted by an insane military commander. Doing everything I can. I’m just looking for a way home.“

So let me break down that monologue into its component reasons you should watch Farscape.

1) Some of the strange alien life forms are Muppets.

Farscape a co-production with the Jim Henson Company, and while there are many aliens played by humans in make-up, there are also a considerable number (including two of the regular crew) who are Muppets. By which I do not mean Kermit. I mean really gorgeous, elaborate works of art.

Also, even a lot of the humans-in-makeup aliens just look cool, and incredibly weird. Here’s an alien who appears in a single episode of season 1:

Not that there aren’t, you know, occasional Star Trek-style “these guys are just humans with weird hair,” or whatever, but in general, the aliens on Farscape look really alien. And that’s more than an aesthetic choice; it’s Farscape’s driving narrative principle. The aliens look alien, they act alien, they have alien values.

You know how a lot of sci-fi shows will have a stand-in for “fuck,” like Battlestar Galactica has “frak”? Well, Farscape has “frell.” And also “dren.” And yotz, hezmana, mivonks, loomas, tralk, snurch, eema, drannit, dench, biznak, arn, drad, fahrbot, narl. Some of those are swear words, but some of them are just words, never explicitly translated, that the alien characters will pepper into their speech, because, well, why should translator microbes be able to completely translate all the nuances of an alien culture? You’ll pick it up from context. One time, in passing, a character mentions that he’s familiar with the concept of suicide, but there’s no word for it in his language. I cannot emphasize to you enough how fleeting this moment is; the episode is not about suicide, we’re not having a great exchange of cultural ideas—at the time, the characters are running down a corridor in a crisis, as they are about 70 percent of the time—it’s just that the subject got brought up, and this character needed to talk around the fact that he literally didn’t have a word, in that moment. Things like that happen all the time, on Farscape.

Because more than anything else, Farscape is a show about culture shock. John Crichton is this straight, white Southern guy, at the top of his game—he’s an astronaut! he’s incredibly high status!—and then he ends up on the other side of the galaxy, where none of his cultural markers of privilege hold any meaning, where he doesn’t know the rules, where he literally can’t even open the doors. And he has to unlearn the idea that humanity is central, that he is the norm.

2) John Crichton, an astronaut, is pretty great.

A show that’s about a straight white guy with high status having to learn that he’s not the center of the universe could easily be centered around a really insufferable person, but one of the subtle things that makes Farscape so wonderful is that Crichton is, for the most part, pretty excellent. He has a lot of presumptions to unlearn because almost anyone in his cultural position would, but he’s also just a stand-up guy: compassionate, intelligent, open-minded, decent, forgiving, brave, hopeful.

And the galaxy tries to kick a whole lot of that out of him. It doesn’t succeed, mostly, but if Farscape is about anything other than culture shock, it’s about the lasting effects of trauma. How you can go through a wormhole one person, and experience things that turn you into someone you don’t recognize.

That’s kind of grim-sounding, but ultimately, what I’m trying to say is that Farscape is almost fanatically devoted to character work. Crichton is not the only character who sounds like he should be one thing and ends up being another. All of the characters—all of them, all of them, even the annoying ones—are complicated wonders. And you don’t have to wonder whether the events of the episode you’re watching are going to matter. They will. Everything that happens to the characters leaves a mark. Everything leaves them forever changed. Whether it’s mentioned explicitly or not—and often enough, it’s not explicit—the characters remember what has happened to them.

3) The living ship houses a lot of excellent women, among them the ship itself.

Ah, the women of Farscape, thou art the loves of my fucking life.

There’s Aeryn Sun, former Peacekeeper (that’s the military that the “insane military commander” hails from) now fugitive, currently learning the meaning of the word “compassion” (literally). She will break your fingers and also your heart. John/Aeryn is the main canon romantic ship.

There’s Pa’u Zhoto Zhaan, a priestess of the ninth level, current pacifist, former anarchist. Sorry, leading anarchist. She orgasms in bright light! (Oh my god, Farscape.)

There’s Chiana, my fucking bestie, a teenage(ish? ages in Farscape are weird) fugitive on the run from a repressive authoritarian state. Chiana is like a seductress con artist grifter thief who mostly just wants to survive so that she can have fun, damn it. Characters on Farscape do not really discuss sexualities (sex, yes, sexualities, no) and it would be fair to say that several of them do not fall along human sexuality lines generally, but I’m gonna go ahead and say that Chiana is canonically not straight.

Then there’s Moya, the ship herself, and it’s hard to get a straight read on Moya’s personality, since she mostly can’t speak. But she definitely has opinions, and things and people she cares about. And she moves the plot, though that gets into spoiler territory.

Past first season, further excellent women show up: Jool (controversial, but I like her), Sikozu (I once saw a Tumblr meme where someone had marked down that Sikozu would lose her shit when someone pronounced “gif” wrong, and that’s absolutely correct, and it’s why I love her), and Noranti (who is incredibly weird, and incredibly hard to summarize, but man, you gotta love her willingness to just show up and do her thing). Plus, there’s a recurring female villain, Grayza, who I could write probably multiple essays about. (I don’t know how you will feel about Grayza, as not everyone loves her, but I think she’s fucking fascinating, especially because she’s not actually the only recurring female villain. We also get Ahkna!)

(Side note: I should mention, here, that the cast of Farscape is really, really white. There is one cast member of color, Lani Tupu, but he pretty much represents the entirety of even, like, incidental diversity in casting for the series.)

Anyway, Farscape is full of awesome women, and also awesome and unexpected men, and it really enjoys playing with audience expectations of gender roles, generally. Literal entire books have been written about the way that Farscape fucks around with sex, sexuality, and gender. It’s a little weird because it was the late 90s/early 2000s, and sometimes that does come through, but Farscape’s guiding principle was always to try not to present American culture of the time as the norm, so like. It is not.

(An aside on Farscape and sex: Literally every character on Farscape has sexual tension with every other character. If you are a shipper, this is a Good Show, because no matter who you ship, there will not only be subtext, you will get a Moment of some kind. Multiple characters kiss the Muppet. Farscape is dedicated to getting into the nitty-gritty of the galaxy—I like to think of it as showing the guts of the universe—so a lot of the show is kind of squishy. They live on a biomechanoid ship, instead of androids there are “bioloids,” there’s a lot of focus on strange alien biologies, and lots of weird glowing fluids and things. I think the sex thing is kind of part and parcel of the larger biology focus: Farscape is really fascinated with how we all eat and evolve and live and die and, well, fuck. Which is in turn, kind of part of its focus on making everything really alien.)

4) Other stuff you should know.

Farscape as a whole is excellent, but it was kind of the product of creative anarchy—an Australian/American coproduction (oh yeah, everyone except Crichton speaks with an Australian accent) that was also partnered with the Henson company, whose showrunners were based in America but whose actual production all took place in Australia, and who was just constantly trying new things. So individual episodes can vary wildly in quality. It really takes off in the back half of season one, but no season is without a few off episodes.

It is extraordinarily funny, and I really think I haven’t stressed that enough. It’s one of the shows I want to quote the most in my daily life, but almost all of its humor is really context-dependent, and if you just wander around going, “Hey Stark? What’s black and white, and black and white, and black and white?” people look at you really funny.

It’s very conversant with pop culture generally (although obviously sci-fi specifically, and Star Trek most specifically of all) and really enjoys deconstructing tropes, often to the effect of, “Well, Crichton really does not know what to do here, does he?” but sometimes just to be interesting.

There are also a lot of themes about science, and its uses and misuses.

The whole thing is fucking epic, and if you get invested at all, will take you on an emotional ride.

This show is weird. I know that that’s probably come across by now, but I think it’s worth reiterating as its own point: Farscape is so weird. Like, proudly, unabashedly, trying its hardest, weird. An amazing kind of weird.

If you’re into fantasy, you should know that there’s a recurring villain who’s just a wizard. Like, they don’t bother to explain it any more than that, he’s just a fucking wizard.

In summary: You should watch Farscape because it is a weird, wild, emotional, epic romance/drama/action/allegory full of Muppets and leather and one-liners and emotional gut punches and love, and if you let it, it will worm its way into you and never let go, which, now that I think of it, is another Farscape plot.

Send me meta prompts to distract me from my migraine!

#farscape #meta

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belle-keys · 3 years

Text

I Love Matthew Fairchild aka Incoherent Thoughts about Chain of Iron (2021) by Cassandra Clare

I made one of these rant-rave reviews for SJM's book so check it out if you want, no pressure tho lmao.

Aight so I finished Chain of Iron last night and OMG I HAVE TO YELL like I loved it sooo much like yooo, I have a lot to say. I know the book is new so... beware for spoilers plebs.

Also context: I been reading the Shadowhunter books since I was 12 and I'm 19 now *insert dead emoji face* so yeah, I'm just so happy rn with where the Chronicles have come and the fact that they’re still ongoing *insert uwu face*. I remember when in like 2014-2015 or something when Cassandra Clare teased that Will and Tessa's kids' generation was gonna get a trilogy set in Edwardian London, loosely based on Great Expectations, and holy hell? I think that was perhaps one of the best days of my life considering how much I adore The Infernal Devices (that trilogy really changed the way I see YA literature... don't ask cus I won't shut up about it) (also yes I read TMI and loved it too but there's a “generation gap” between TMI and the other Shadowhunter books stylistically so don't ask me about that either cus I also won't shut up).

Anyway, shoo from here if you want a critical essay on Chain of Iron. I'm not providing that, this is just me raving here for the fun.

Listen... I want the bulk of this to just be two main things: The Matthew Situation, and then all the literary and judeo-christian meta aspects of it.

BUT I ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE SO FRICK LET'S JUST START WITH THE OBVIOUS SHIT LIKE THE PLOT AND WHATEVER

Okay, the plot and writing and shit, let's get that out of the way:

The WHOLE Jack-the-Ripper-esque ambiance was just sooooo good man wow like I did not expect the book to take this cold turn but it worked so well. There was such a contrast between Jamie and Cordelia's warm little house and then the cold winter and the stabbings and shit and it felt like a nice little callback to the actual Ripper phenomenon that preceded them and a nod to the Whitechapel Fiend story from Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy.

Bitch OFC that whole thing with Wayland was a set-up like nawww that was too easy to spot and I get why Cordelia feels like shit about it.

Dawg Lucie was just the Among Us imposter here in that my girl was just venting and sneaking around with dead people and I was like nooooo girl run, don't deal with Fade this is a set-up THINK ABOUT JULES LUCIE THAT'S LIKE YO GREAT-GRANDSON *sobs* but yeah anyway my girl has death powers she gonna kill some bitches next book.

You see that confrontation between Lilith and Belial? MASTERPIECE DIALOGUE like this was the point within which I was just like "yo is this the book of Genesis or a YA Fantasy novel" like when Lilith said "I may have been cast out but I did not fall" like??????????????????? I YELLED she did not have to END Belial like that. What a bad bitch.

More on Lilith and Belial... "You, who brought nations into darkness? Shall I finally be able to tell the infernal realms you have gone mad, lost even the image of the Creator." HAHAHHAHAHA SHE SAID "YO BELIAL GO GET SOME THERAPY AND GET OFF MY ASS" LIKE??????

Ughhhh yasss Clare has improved writing diverse characters in this book compared to in The Dark Artifices in my opinion... I'm not gonna expand on it cus ain't nobody got time for that but like, I enjoyed how she wove Persian poetry and tales into the story and the way in which she writes Cordelia and Alistair. They're not caricatures of Persian people but rather multi-faceted beings who also happen to be Persian and I appreciate that. Also, Alistair and Thomas and Anna and Ariadne were just so fun and interesting to read as coupbles but also as individuals. She really higlighted diversity in a very natural manner. All I need is a hijabi character and I’ll die a happy woman lmao.

The level of META man like the references to Classics and art (I swear, she might have compared Matthew to angels out of Caravaggio AND Rosetti AND Boticelli paintings and I Am Living For It) and just all the quotes from holy books and shit omg I love it here like you really feel catapulted into the time period, she draws reference to external art and philosophy so well and I feel like she upped the notch on it in this book (didn’t know that was possible but it was the prose is BEAUTIFUL, archaic, but not pretentiously so). No, like the characters live in their OWN worlds of literature and art and history in the way we are living in THEIRS. They quote Wilde and Milton while we'll quote Clare. It's awesome.

This is an unusually structuralist take even from me but: I like the way the milieu social of the book, i.e., the high society Edwardian circles and their values, have a direct influence on the plot. James and Cordelia got married because society’s values essentially forced them to, not a demon. Cordelia abandons Jamie at the end of Iron because her shame as a woman in society and fear for her reputation made her, not a demon. Thomas and Alistair can't be together solely because of how Alistair tarnished the reputation of the Fairchilds and Lightwoods by using the horror of infidelity against them. Issues relating to marriage, gender roles, etc, stemming DIRECTLY from the time period rule the sequence of events to the same degree as the epic fantasy aspects (demons, Princes of Hell, the lore itself) do and I LOVE that dear God above.

OKAY THE GOOD SHIT LET US TALK ABOUT CHARACTERS AND SHIPS (N.B. but imma discuss Matthew and the Fairstairs situation separately below this portion):

Alistair's redemption arc: No, cus Alistair's redemption arc is honestly amazing. He really did change and it's not like his betterment as a person was linked to any one heroic deed but rather he simply decided he wanted to be better especially for his family and he decided to become a proper protective son, a caring brother, and an amiable friend. He fully owned up to his Malfoy tendencies and apologized without expecting forgiveness. He shows how he cares in the little ways and omg it's so sweet and tender. I really do want him to love himself now and be embraced by Matthew especially and the rest of the Thieves.

Dawg Lucie and Jesse are so funny to me like it's so hilarious how this girl fell in love with a whole ass ghost that no one else knows about like HHAHA. Are Lucie and Jesse my ult ship ever? Nah, but it's nothing to do with Clare, it's just that their relationship happened pretty quick and feels quite like something epicly romantic that Lucie herself would write. I just like slow burn and friends-to-lovers the most from Clare. To be honest part of me just wanted Lucie to not have a romantic arc all together but like, it's all good, I'm not complaining.

Okay Grace- like yooooooooooo I never hated her yunno. She has been abused and isolated all her life. It's not that she is a bad person, but rather that she does not know what being a person even entails. Can't even say she's a “doll” of a person cus she's never even been pampered like one by her family. I really started understanding her motivations since when they gave us her half-childhood with Jesse. I want better for her but cmon can she REALLY be saved???

GRACE X CHRISTOPHER *pretends to be shocked*... Okay, sometime in the middle of the Dark Artifices series some big brain put together a very thorough family tree of the families and like, it clearly showed that Grace and Christopher got married so like, lmfaooooo, I knew this was coming one way or another, but the journey to this ship is more important than the destination. Like in a way Christopher is such a cute baby lamb that it makes sense he'd end up being immune to her Grace-ness when he's just a cute little Einstein boiii. Like this is just so funny to me cus he's so oblivious to social conventions while she makes the milieu social her entire life so OFC it's gonna work. Like, this is such a worlds-colliding trope like just Give It To Me.

James and Grace - aw mannn Jamie just had me fricking wanting to hit a wall every two seconds cus like yooooooo every single time I think he and Cordelia are gonna stop being emotionally-constipated spouses, Jamie says some kinda shit like "omg me and Daisy are just friends uwu" like DO I NEED TO HIT YOU?????????? See I can't blame him for not slamming the door on Grace's face even tho he totes should- Jamie is so cerebral and kind that even if Grace wasn't using the enchantment on him, I think he would always be soft for her even if it isn't in a romantic way. There's just so much miscommunication cus like he said "Thank God" when she broke off the engagement with Charles and lowkey embraced her but it also wasn't his fault cus it wasn't even romantic BUT OFC IT LOOKED HORRIBLE TO CORDELIA like James literally never told the woman at least once that he loved her so OFC she thought she was back to square one with him dear God above what a mess. Not his fault, but she DID set down one rule for him: don’t cheat with Grace. And yeah even tho he hasn’t properly cheated, it must FEEL horrible to her cus she’s just been enduring the pain of their unrequeted love for so long :((

See imma just say it but if Cordelia thought that James didn't love Grace then she def would have confessed to him about her feelings right but like James, on the other hand, was delaying his own romantic confession cus he was BEING EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED and I can't even say the bracelet was solely to blame cus like my boi was just being so difficult omg I believe he should be lightly spanked by his three parents aka Will, Tessa and Jem *cries*.

Cordelia is such a MOM like she's so mature and stable and her self-preservation instinct? OFF THE CHARTS I love this woman like James definitely treated her well as a hubby but like I JUST WANTED HER TO HAVE CLOSURE ABOUT SOMETHING and boy oh boy she did get that closure she got it good but not from the person she expected in the LEAST *hehe* *pelican screeching*... like Lucie was being sus with the whole ghost business and James was being just, quite a case, dealing with Grace and Belial right and I don't blame them at all for their secrecy and shit but her FATHER DIED and her friends were hiding a lot from her so in a way she turned to Alistair for help but he could only do so much cus of his own pain (she couldn't even talk to her mom cus she's pregnant and she doesn't wanna stress her right) and then there was this emotional block between her and Jamie, Lucie was often absent and conspiring with the dead... the last person remaining was HIM (imma discuss this soon), but yeah my heart just went OUT to her cus she's tryna save herself and her family and she just doesn't know what to do. That's why I love the way her mom told her to stop holding herself back for others and live her own life. Like Cordelia grew on me so much cus in Gold she undoubtedly was a strange Elizabeth Bennet-wallflower hybrid and I... do not usually get attached to wallflowers but in Iron I feel like I finally understood that she was just tryna be unproblematic and self-preserving all along and nottt put her family and friends in a tough situation.... she reminds me of my mom personality-wise so yeah I’m totally rooting for her now that her *situation* in the past seems clearer.

Anna, Thomas and Matthew are such a SQUAD lmfaooooo like united in their gayness they'd be so unstoppable.

Will and Tessa are the most in-love of all the in-loves in this story and I respect that so much.

I lost a year to my life every time the romance between James and Cordelia got cockblocked. Like they were MARRIED and I thought they were gonna at least sleep next to each other at least once BUT NO James couldn't take a hint omg I'm actually gonna eat my fist and sob (but in retrospect, I think this serves a bigger purpose in terms of the narrative structure i.e. the interruption of all the spicy James and Cordelia action serves a bigger purpose which I think brings me to my next section, *exhale*)

Welcome to the Matthew Fairchild Enthusiast Club (this section is me talking out loud; it makes no sense):

bitch.

LISTEN TO ME LISTEN WELL I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH IMMA SCREAM I REALLY AM GONNA SCREAM MY FIST IS LITERALLY IN MY MOUTH *BACKFLIPS OFF THE ROOF WITH LANA DEL REY PLAYING*

Okay like where to BEGIN I think the Shadowhunter boy who I'm most attracted to is Julian while the one I love the most is Will but I think I see myself in Matthew the most. Like ever since that first story where the Thieves all met at the Academy then got expelled, I think that I just KNEW Matthew was destined to be epic. Plus the whole Wilde obsession? I’m no libertine myself but I just love his chaos and passion for life.

NO CUS HE'S SO WITTY AND SWEET AND EPIC AND YET SO SECRETIVE AND DEAR GOD ABOVE AHHHHH WILL HE SURPASS JULIAN FOR ME??? Ion even know but this is just sodjsgdwsdygyegydgef

Hear me out but I said after finishing Gold last March that I wanted this book to be Matthew's healing arc right so halfway into the book when I realized that we weren't getting all that good healing arcing I was confused just cus I thought it seemed natural to address all of his alcohol issues and sadness by now. LITTLE DID I KNOW CASSIE WAS SETTING UP A WHOLE OTHER ARC WITH HIM THAT I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED WTH.

At first I thought Matthew didn't have feelings for anyone at all, and if he DID develop feelings unexpectedly, I fricking thought that maybe he's catching feelings for James, if anyone??? I mean, I did have some suspicions about Matthew from the get-go: like he's so secretive and as readers we think we know everything there is to know about him since we were all privy to the truth potion incident in his short story right BUT NO I GOT PLAYED AND I DESERVE IT SO BADDDDDD.

Listen I hadn't shipped him and Cordelia simply because I never thought it in the realm of possibility but it MAKES SENSE as a ship... think about it: he never says what he feels, he flirts with her like he does with EVERYONE, he is kind to her in the way he is with EVERYONE. Really, Matthew is shippable with everyone, doesn’t matter if they’re taken cus that’s just what his Matthewnes allows for ya feel. There is such a beautiful irony that CORDELIA herself did not see this coming. Even the little teasers and hints in Gold have only NOW started making sense to me likejhss. I just felt like the hints in book 1 did not indicate to me that Matthew really harbored real romantic feelings for Daisy. I thought he was upset that James and Cordelia were being fakes, not a developing CRUSH on the woman fgs.

Not to mention that you usually sense a ship building when the emotional connection or sexual tension between the characters is made clearer but to me their FRIENDSHIP grew right but it didn’t feel like Cordelia was thought that she liked him or he liked her so that means me and Cordelia are clowns *together* 😤

Okay I was lowkey having SUSPICIONS but I immediately shut them down right... like firstly when he took her to the White Horse in his car and she went OFF and OFF and off about how she felt free for the first time? I thought Cassie was just tryna develop Cordelia's self-liberation arc through Matthew there. Heck, I didn't even think ANYTHING of it when Matthew confession to Cordelia about the "truth potion" incident at all cus I was like they're FRIENDS??? BUT now it's adding up now...

See when they were at the inn place and he was telling her that she doesn't in the least seem like a 100 year-old married woman? I was like hmmmm he's so sweet but why did Cassie phrase it like that like??? When Cordelia later reiterated that she thought Matthew's flirting was “meaningless”?? I was like hmmm kinda SUS tho. And then when he and James had their fight over the way Jamie kissed Grace like again I thought he was just like? ion know? mad at James for it but I didn't think he was in LOVE with Cordelia??? So I immediately put aside my slight suspicions. The probability that he had a crush on James at that point seemed more likely to me.

BUT THEN it started hitting me that every time Matthew drank, even before he explained his issue with the truth potion, that Cordelia would note it, she would worry about him, she would think of her father which seemed so poetic to me, history repeating itself and all that but this time you can FIX it??? Yeah, but again I didn't think the L WORD would be involved man???

Now imma sound like a delulu shipper here but it just makes sense they would develop feelings logically- reason being that it definitely is possible based on the way Cassie set up the story, like there's a combination of little “friend things” that can turn this into a proper ship: Matthew rescues Cordelia in the ballroom when Grace captures James' attention in Gold. Cordelia sees her father in Matthew all the time but knows now she has a chance to be there for him in the way she couldn't have been there for Elias (classic “history repeats itself” trope, she doesn't want Matthew drinking in Paris like dhshghdfhdhch). Cordelia tastes freedom for the first time when driving with Matthew. Matthew caught James and Cordelia making out in the room and was pissed but not even HE properly knew why then??? Umm, when she thinks James is forreal cheating with Grace on her she subconsciously goes to Matthew??? I also found it funny just how every intimate marital moment between her and James got interrupted somehow. Like, it's as if the narrative is just a living force REFUSING to let James and Cordelia as a ship be consecrated. Heck, every time Matthew is scantily clothed Cordelia notes it. LITTLE CRUMBS I TELL YOU LITTLE CRUMBS.

I tell you when Cordelia showed up to Matthew's flat I thought they were gonna f*ck as friends but I got SOMETHING EVEN BETTER SOMEHOW

THEY ARE GOING TO PARIS LA BELLE EPOQUE PARIS THE PARIS OF DREAMS AND ART LIKE??? FRICKKKKK I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AT ALLLL MAN? I deadass thought the story would be restrained to the UK but like it MAKES SENSE the trope subversion MAKES SENSE.

“In Paris, with you, I will not need to forget.” SHITTRGEGGGDG

BUT CORDELIA LOVES JAMES TOO LIKE I CAN'T DENY THAT... where are we GOING with this like Matthew wouldn't lie about his feelings and yet Cassie wouldn't give us Matthew and Cordelia crumbs to only end it in the next book immediately for her to just ditch him for James. I mean she was clearly holding back on fleshing out James and Cordelia as a ship for this but to WHAT END??? Daisy feels wild and free with Matthew and she feels warm at home warm with James. I can’t advocate for the sinking of ANY ship here.

Imma say what we're all thinking: Is she gonna give us a Will x Jem x Tessa type situation where Cordelia gets both of them cus I'm not strong enough for this but I also think it'd be really funny if James gets a surprise bi awakening in the next books and then we get POLY even tho this would never happen, it’s actually impossible, because of the whole parabatai thing.

Listen I ship Cordelia and Matthew much more than Cordelia and James, not that I dislike James in any way tho. It's just: Matthew is so unrestrained and she's so composed. They seem like an unlikely pair so it makes sense that they hit harder for me. James and Cordelia have such similar personalities but I ALSO don't ship James with Grace at all so like?? Poly would be... ideal... but it can’t happen especially cus they are fricking parabatai... a Will-Jem-Tessa situation seems more likely but mannnn ion know what to expect. I just want FAIRSTAIRS to have their moment in Paris. I mean James and Matthew clearly don't abhor each other for this.

Take everything I say with several grains of salt, take everything I say with the whole Dead Sea actually, cus I damn well know that Matthew is so flirty and whatnot that I’d have shipped him with anyone in their little circle but now that she set him up with Cordelia it all feels so right?? I have wanted this man in a good relationship since he walked onto the page in Nothing But Shadows so-

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I can't believe Cassia duped me like this omg, Matthew is gonna have his healing arc in Paris with Cordelia by his side like- THIS IS ALL I HAVE WANTED AND SO MUCH MORE. Question to yall btw: are you all as surpised at Fairstairs as me or did yall see it coming all along like smart people? Am I a lone clown? 🥺

BRUH okay criticisms of CC?:

Lmfao a part of me feels like I GOTTA say something bad about CC or the book but honestly I have no objective complaints about it as of now. Am I saying that it’s the PEAK of Young Adult literature and Urban Fantasy? I mean, I make no such claims tbh. I’m not here to be critical when I read as a hobby and when CC’s writing makes me happy regardless of how flawed some people see it.

Okay what next?

So like I’m excited for the adult high fantasy she’s releasing in the fall and whatever other works she might be releasing outside of Chain of Gold within the Chronicles.

As for TLH itself? Man I’m just VIBING like I suspect I will reread Chain of Iron soon and maybe one of the anthologies just because I am happy that this series actually happened after me waiting like 6 years for it when it was just a concept: a Dickensian retelling filled with poetry and culture and history and the conventions I so loved in TID at age 12. This is all I been wanting tbh. I’m just enjoying watching this series come to fruition for it to inspire and transform me in some way. I feel like in a way my coming-of-age aligns with that of these specific characters yet I ALSO feel like I raised Jamie since infancy. Wack.

MATTHEW AND CORDELIA IN FRANCE LA BELLE EPOQUE TO BE EXACT IMMA CRY I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AND AHHHHHH. ALSO WILL AND JAMIE GOING TO CORNWALL TO GET LUCIE AND MAYBE BOND I LOVE WILL. HE WAS ONE OF MY DILF AWAKENINGS AT AGE 12 AND NOW HE’S HERE AGAIN IMMA CRY. I WANNA SEE MATTHEW GET HAPPY. AHHH.

Ending with a fun quote: “In the wise words of someone or other, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Maurice.” 😉

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

everything i do (gonna think of you)

pairing: finn/poe dameron

fandom: star wars (sequel trilogy

rating: teen and up

word count: 4690

warning: swearing, alcohol

summary: Finn and Poe are on a break. Neither of them are okay. But Finn hears Poe singing about him on the radio, and they'll be okay. Always. (musician poe, artist finn, long distance break-up + getting back together)

(it’s been ages but my space bfs, it’s good to be back!! a long overdue installment in my finnpoe alphabet series. did not expect e to be the most difficult letter to work with !!! thank you to Cat / @wendigostag as ALWAYS for beta reading and supporting my messy ideas 🥰 love uuuu. enjoy??)

read on ao3

“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, I’m sure!”

The audience erupts in a half-laughter, half-cheer, and the host smiles, looking a bit too tired for his age.

“Tonight’s special performance is by someone who has, quite frankly, taken the whole of America - and dare I say the world? - by storm!”

Previous cheers resurface, louder and more certain than before. Even a few wolf whistles, making the presenter laugh as well.

“Here to perform his new single ‘cardigan’ from the debut album ‘folklore’, Poe Dameron!”

Quite literally everyone in the studio goes crazy, and as the camera directs towards the stage, a light turns on and reveals the curly haired man in all his glory.

He smiles slyly to the audience. A few noises, bordering on the line of screaming, makes him chuckle, but he puts all his focus on the guitar. Snaps, strums, and as the piano starts accompanying him, a soft voice forming strange and unfamiliar words.

Finn wipes the tear away in frustration before it even gets a chance to move, just tiny droplets stinging his vision. He’s sniffling, and biting his cheek, staring at the already half-empty bottle of red wine on the table.

Never in his life has he ever felt more pathetic, that’s true.

He doesn’t know why he’s watching this. And judging by the two texts pinging in on his phone, his best friend Rey somehow knows he’s doing it, too.

His vision’s too blurry to type, he thinks. Fuck it, pour another glass of wine. Who cares?

On the screen, Poe smiles while singing each word. But Finn knows the man better than anyone in that studio to know that it’s not really a smile. It’s the kind that his boyfriend- ex-boyfriend put on at their last FaceTime call. The one where he suggested they took a break.

He figures he should turn off the television when the performance comes to an end. No need to rub anymore salt in the wound, as Rey said.

Yet Finn sticks around for the interview because… because what? He hates himself? He hates Poe?

Neither. Maybe he misses him. Of course he misses him, enough to fight back the sobs, far from sober. But he’ll fight that obvious realisation, as well.

“Thank you for coming in tonight!” the host tells the singer, who thanks him in turn for the opportunity. Always the golden boy. The image of polite, kind, heart full of love, yet so goddamn stubborn.

“Mothers love me.” Poe had told him, back in college, the smug idiot. Finn’s mother loves him.

It’s mostly questions about the album, the upcoming tour, pictures of his parents and his pearly whites gleam when he speaks of them, how proud they are of him. It envelops Finn like a warm embrace. Huh. They haven’t hugged in five months.

They haven’t seen each other in five months.

Then the host starts grinning like a maniac, and he’s got a hunch what’s coming now is what he’s been wanting to ask all along, “Evidently, you got a lot of ladies who love you here.”

Audience cheers. Poe runs a hand through his hair. He’s so nervous, it’s adorable.

“You got a special lady in your life?” a question that quiets the audience significantly, still, waiting.

The singer glances at his shoes like they’re the most fascinating thing in the universe. Finn can’t hold his glass still, because, yeah. He looks like he’s thinking about it too hard. He wants to save him from that situation.

And although it feels like a million years pass, it’s probably only ten seconds before the reply settles, “Not at the moment, no.”

The crowd is nothing less than thrilled. And not only women, as the host implied, nah, everyone in that studio recognizes what a heartthrob Poe Dameron is. Finn couldn’t agree more.

What he knows about his ex-boyfriend that the strangers in the TV don’t know is, obviously, that Poe’s not interested in the ladies.

So does his family and close friends, anyone out of show business, really.

He also knows why his ex-boyfriend isn’t out to the public about his sexuality, yet. Or he’s got an idea. Maybe. Finn convinces himself of that, because then, he can also convince himself that he’s not the only one still feeling he’s being torn to pieces by this breakup. Feels better.

Although the screen connecting to his boyfriend’s call tugs on his heartstrings with its familiar warmth, Finn is, above all, pissed.

And for some reason, he feels ashamed for that. He knows he shouldn’t.

Poe hasn’t been home in a month. He was supposed to be here two weeks ago, but due to press bookings, credit to his boyfriend’s brand new agent, he called Finn late at night apologising like a broken record and promising to make it up to him.

And it makes him feel like shit.

Every apology made him feel more guilty for… harboring his time. Which is crazy, because they’ve been going steady for three years. They talked about this, the possibility of long distance, and knew, definitely, that it was gonna be hard, especially since they’ve been attached by the hip for so long.

Thing is, this has happened three times now, and it’s made Finn question himself.

Is he good enough for Poe? then later, another thought creeps in, Is Poe tired of him? or… is he not in love with him anymore?

Finn feels like he’s going crazy.

And even when he sees his boyfriend’s soft curls and eyes full of sunshine pop on his phone, it’s those thoughts that still inhabit his head. Fuck.

“Baby!” Poe says, excitement gleaming right through him and into Finn’s bedroom. They’ve been talking about moving in together, but, well, with long distance, mostly only talk for now. He’s off chasing the fame, which he deserves more than anyone, thank you very much, and Finn’s already booked up with art galleries and auctions eagerly grasping for his paintings. It feels like they’ve made it.

Except, “Phasma’s got me on Jimmy Kimmel! Like, can you believe that?!” his boyfriend spills out everything from this week, and it warms Finn’s chest, his gut, all the way down to his toes. But at the same time, this being Poe’s first words to him stirs weirdly alongside that warmth.

His career’s important. Of course. Finn’s happy for him, like, over the moon, all the way across the solar system happy.

He wants him to be successful. So then… then why does it feel like Poe prioritises it over them? It’s probably him overthinking it, he reasons. Again.

Finn can definitely feel he’s supposed to be sleeping right now; that’s another thing, cursed with being in vastly different time zones. He listens, smiling half-tiredly, thoughts wandering to everything and nothing.

Which is why he finds himself, all of a sudden, replying to his boyfriend’s, “I, uh, I’m actually writing you another song. Don’t laugh, please,” with, “A secret kind of song? ”

It takes Poe by surprise, visibly, and it takes himself, as well.

Finn bites down on his tongue in the cringe of it all. His boyfriend’s blinking, slowly, probably waiting for some sort of elaboration, but when he has no idea what to say, Poe inquires, “What do you mean?”

He sighs. Wholeheartedly, wistfully, nostalgic.

Finn thinks about when Poe asked him out, driving up to his window in true cheesy romantic comedy style and having offered to write essays in exchange for a school marching band performance.

Their first date, eating cotton candy and the curly haired boy insisting on trying and failing to win Finn a prize, until finally facing defeat. He won Poe a prize instead, first try, so the previous grumpiness faded in a matter of seconds. The butterflies threatened to burst his stomach the entire day.

Their first time, clumsy and awkward, teeth clanging in kisses and stupid buttons in Finn’s shirt being stuck and they laughed until they were out of breath. It was more perfect than anything either of them could’ve imagined.

He thinks about this, because neither of them were out before they got together.

This coming out thing? It scared the shit out of Finn. He was so lucky to have a supportive family, supportive friends. The school was a mixed experience, but he and Poe were in it together. His boyfriend tried to play it cool, but he knew how scared he was, too. He knows like the back of his hand, almost.

And this concern, it makes him feel so guilty he might vomit.

“I just… I was just wondering if you wanted to be official.”

“We are official, Finn.”

“No, I-I mean, public.”

He gulps around the growing lump in his throat. Poe goes scarily quiet.

This is also something they’ve talked about before. Fame is so new, it’s a whole new leap, learning how to handle all this, so it didn’t bother either of them to be secretive about their relationship, so to speak.

Their close network still knew, obviously, but the music industry, Hollywood, that’s way, way different than Finn’s newly established and growing network of artist connections and colleagues.

It wasn’t a problem. Until it was.

Coming out is personal. But ever since his boyfriend said he wanted to go public, then didn’t, as they were both on edge, then decided they should move in together and go public to slam down journalists linking Poe to a member of a girl group he met last summer, then didn’t.

It’s happened a couple of times. And finally, it seems, Finn is coming to terms with being tired of being ready and then backing out.

He’s terrified. Terrified of Poe being embarrassed of him, which he knows sounds crazy, also. But fuck.

“Baby, we’re gonna do it,” his boyfriend reassures him, but he’s distraught now, “You know we are. My agent just talks about my image, you know, I need to make sure-”

“Your image?”

That… that pisses Finn off. Conclusively. Because what the fuck?

“Phasma thinks we should do it at Christmas, season of love, you know?” Poe smiles shyly, he always loved the holidays. And he just doesn’t know how to react. “She’s fine with it, like, she didn’t ask me to fake being straight, like the guy I talked with before. Just-

“Are you embarrassed of me, Poe?” he finds the words slipping out before he can stop his mouth.

His boyfriend’s eyes widen significantly on the small screen, opens and closes his mouth several times, and there’s definitely a yell from somewhere in the studio, but Poe ignores it completely, “Of course not. Finn, I’m the luckiest guy in the world because of you. I just really… really think we need to time this right.”

“I,” Finn starts, but he’s barely sure where he’s going with the sentence. All he knows is that he’s scared Poe might tell him that all this time meant nothing to him. He doesn’t know why he leaps to that, but he does. His boyfriend might find something better than him in the limelight, “I know. You’ve told me, and I get it, I do. It’s just difficult being so far away from you, and then…”

He feels himself drifting off into a cloud of numbness and nothing, but Poe interrupts the sentence, “I thought you’d be more supportive of my career.” Finn nearly jumps. The words don’t sound cold, per say. But it’s weird. The good old butterflies flutter hesitantly, sort of in question.

“I am, darling, I-” he sighs again, “I’ve always been. You’ve just seemed like you’re ready, and I got the feeling that your agent didn’t want you to, and-” “Phasma wants it.”

“But on Christmas, Poe. This Christmas. I’m just scared you’re…” Finn shakes his head at himself, decides to be completely honest, because that’s how relationships work. Right? “Waiting for the moment to end this.”

“End this?” his boyfriend’s voice raises just an octave, looking perpetually confused. He also, admittedly, looks pissed. Hurt. “Do you want to break up with me?”

“No! Why would I-

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

Finn rubs his eyes, feels like they’re on goddamn fire. Poe’s biting his lips, rummaging around after moving what he assumes is a more private room than before, and avoiding eye contact. They shouldn’t be doing this on the phone. They shouldn’t be doing this at all.

He wishes his boyfriend was next to him, so he could curl up on his chest and sleep the entire weekend. It’s all he wants.

Ultimately, Finn makes the suggestion, “Baby, I’m sorry, I just… why don’t I call you next time you’re free? Or can you… are you getting back anytime soon?”

He doesn’t know how to describe this feeling, what’s happening, in any other way than it seems like Poe’s on a different planet than him, drifting in a meteor rain.

What Finn doesn’t expect least of all is his boyfriend’s answer, “Nah, you know, if you feel like that, we should take a break. A breather.”

And Poe smiles, but he sees through that bullshit. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

He’s trying to play it cool. Fuck. Why are Finn’s eyes stinging, now?

“A break?”

“Yeah.”

That’s so much to process. Fucking process it. The protests are bubbling under his skin, boiling and ice cold at the same time, but he doesn’t get the time when the yells on the end of the world resume.

“I really should go.” Poe tells him, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to.

“Poe…” he tries to breathe around the butterflies currently panicking inside of him. He’d scream at them to stop for just five seconds, if he could. His boyfriend’s already getting up from the seat, which is why Finn pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to look at him, “Okay. Okay.”

The silence that settles between them, then, until they end the call in confusion and boiled up emotion, is far from the comfort they’ve been accustomed to. It ends without a goodbye. Without an I love you.

So, naturally, he gets absolutely zero sleep that night.

Whenever Rey told them they were being overdramatic, she was probably right. This is no exception.

Ever since the damnation of their FaceTime call, Finn tried to get into his head what went down. Namely, him and his boyfriend speaking over each other’s heads. It settles in the morning, the realisation that Poe assumed the worst of what he said, while he himself didn’t understand why he couldn’t come home . Just one day. Just to talk this out.

But in a recognizable stubborn fashion, his boyfriend ignored his calls and texts for the weekend. Finn tried so, so hard not to get pissed again. But also, Poe actively avoiding him made him want to cry. Not being able to just hear his voice made him want to cry.

Naturally, the following week, when his boyfriend decided to reach out, Finn became the one to ignore all forms of contact. It felt like they were walking in circles.

This is new and raw territory.

Finn and Poe don’t fight. It’s a basic law of the universe.

Which is why he doesn’t blame Rey for widening her eyes in shock at this new development. He also knows that she wants to intervene, badly so, given how protective she is of them, but because she’s lovely she always somehow knows when Finn needs his own space to think. Or scream into the void a little bit, whatever does the trick.

He’s pretty sure she didn’t expect this to go on for four months, now. He sure as hell didn’t expect it.

But… they’re both to blame. Finn’s pretty much dug himself a hole in the ground filling up with all his feelings, and as every week passes by, waits for his boyfriend to make the first move. He expects Poe to do the same. Nothing’s moving forward.

So, if Rey didn’t know him as she did, she’d ask him why.

Why don’t you just call him? He could. When his boyfriend stopped ignoring him, that is. Thing is, Finn’s world is sort of crumbling right now, and a confrontation with that isn’t something he can handle, he thinks.

It’s the thought of losing Poe for good. It’s the thought of Poe thinking Finn doesn’t want him anymore, when in fact he fears the exact opposite.

After watching that interview, though, he could breathe a little easier, he’ll admit.

And it’s weird. He felt inherently about a hundred times worse during it. The day after, he just kept thinking about Poe and his stupid curls and his nervous smile and what he might be doing while Finn was helping his sister with the dishes.

Maybe it’s knowing his boyfriend- ex-boyfriend (?) is okay. Does look more okay than himself.

It calms him. The next day, it makes Finn want to burn up all their polaroids and mail the ashes to the singers’ hotel in a massive envelope. As said before, this hole is deep, too deep, making it difficult to be rational.

A week after the interview, he’s just about on the edge to complete numbness.

Maybe he’s been reading those hilarious dumb gossip magazines whenever his boyfriend was on the cover. Shut up. If he acknowledges the ridiculousness of that, it’ll only make it worse.

Finn feels weak for being this torn up after a breakup… or break. He’s had breakups before Poe, but none of them hurt like this. Does it ever just fucking stop?

Apparently not, because when he picks up the phone with Rey’s name flashing, Finn expects it to be another question of what’s going on. How he’s doing, or not even a question, but an order to let her in as she’s probably already standing in front of his building carrying ice cream and bad horror movies.

He doesn’t get why she doesn’t just use the key he got her already, but it’s still endearing. Except, “Turn on the radio.”

“What?

“Finn, turn on your radio. Trust me.”

And so he scrambles around, the determination in her voice definitely not something to mess around with. Finn eventually uncovers it underneath the mountain of Poe’s vinyl records, and while his best friend doesn’t even tell him what station she’s referring to, he’s got a feeling about it. Also, it’s the first station that pops through the speakers when he turns it on, so.

Then, he has absolutely no idea what to listen for. The hosts are making some jokes about the song they’re gonna play next, thereozing about a “lost love” , and Finn’s about to ask until he realises Rey’s hung up on him, and a text.

just wait. u won’t regret it.

It’s too ominous for his best friend’s usual shenanigans. He’s a little worried.

But unlike the last hellish, unbelievable four months, Finn doesn’t have much time to worry, before the voices announce, “We present an exclusive live performance from our new favorite heartthrob, Poe Dameron!”

Oh God. Oh God, oh shit, oh my god.

Naturally, Finn’s anxiety kicks in like a punch in his gut.

In fact, he’s about to pull up his best friend’s contact again, sick of hearing the single that Poe wrote for him and not even being able to revel in the feeling anymore. Only it’s not ‘cardigan’.

Four months ago, a few days before they decided to take a break, his boyfriend sent him a couple of voice notes, containing lyrics and guitar pieces and other bits for the album he wanted Finn’s approval on. He always wanted his opinion first. It makes him all warm again.

This song, however, is brand new, unheard to everyone’s ears. Including Finn.

“I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit

Been saying "yes" instead of "no"

I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

I hit the ground running each night

I hit the Sunday matinée

You know the greatest films of all time were never made”

The melody has the same calm like the other songs he’s heard, an image of fairytales and bare feet dancing in the woods and stars twinkling in the night.

The melancholy is unfamiliar, though.

“I guess you never know, never know

And if you wanted me, you really should've showed

And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

And it's alright now”

Finn’s thumb hovers over Rey’s contact name, but he can’t bring himself to move.

It’s the alright part. Except, despite how much he tries to lie to himself, he swears to everything god that his boyfriend’s voice breaks over the word. It’s subtle enough that the interviewers could pass it on as him being hoarse, he reasons, but Poe can’t fool him.

He wants him to be okay. Actually, no, because being okay means not missing Finn like Finn misses him, and that would hurt more than anything he can imagine. But also, he’s too far away for a reassuring hand. That’s why he wants him to be okay.

“But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you”

For some reason, it’s only then it settles into Finn’s mind.

Oh.

The song keeps going, and his emotions keep going, from the chaotic jumbled mess he’s become accustomed to a quiet buzz. He feels like his breathing’s slowed down, and a pocket in his heart is being emptied onto the floor.

Poe feels exactly the same way, he imagines. He has to.

Finn’s abandoned his phone somewhere unknown between the couch cushions, and he’s stuck staring at the empty wine bottle he hasn’t had the energy to get rid of, his microwave dinner half eaten, until his ex-boyfriend’s song comes to an end.

‘the 1’ is the title. He doesn’t know if he’s crying or not, which sounds a bit dumb in his own head.

“Poe Dameron!” one of the interviewers yells obnoxiously, clearly trying to hold in their excited giggling, “Those were quite emotional lyrics. I’m guessing there’s a story there somewhere?”

Finn could roll his eyes into the next century at that comment. Jesus Christ.

The singer’s complained about these kinds of people before, of course, he chuckles, politely, hesitantly, probably spinning the best way to avoid opening that door of vulnerability on open air, “I think everyone writes from their own experience, really.”

His voice has the same elegance and softness and gruff that makes Finn think of home, despite the tinny speakers and distraction that vibes off of him, all the way over in the states. It’s unbelievable.

The interview keeps going in the most standard way possible, a couple more questions Poe subtly circles around (including about dating, obviously), some jokes, and they eventually get to that segment where the listeners can call in and ask their own question to the dreamy man.

Some are boring, some are weird, some are intrusive, some are just teen voices in awe of his relatability and what not, mountains of flattery which his boyfriend is all too shy and starstruck to handle.

Finn bites his lip.

They repeat the number of the radio twice. The programme ends at nine. That means about forty five minutes of fan questions.

He shouldn’t. This is ridiculous. But what if… what?

Poe’s voice somehow carries his hand to fish the phone up again, though, like a strike of magic. And then the tone sounds, one, two, three, and it’s too late to take it back now. Shit.

“You’re live! Can our next lucky listener introduce yourself and your question?”

He tries so hard, desperately so, to swallow around the lump in his throat, seeming impossibly massive. The eerie silence is simply too painful to bear, though, so Finn squeezes his eyes shut hard for two seconds, before forcing the reply out.

“Yes, uh, hi. This is Finn Solo. From Pennsylvania.”

A beat. “Pennsylvania?! Well, honey, that’s actually Poe Dameron’s home state, isn’t it?”

Two beats. The singer clears his throat. “Yeah.” Clearly, he recognizes his voice in an instant. Well, obviously, he’d be shocked if he didn’t. Still, Finn feels like curling up in a ball and hiding from the world. He wonders if Rey’s listening, right now.

The interviewer seems unfazed from Poe’s hesitated answer, or they just choose to ignore it, he supposes. “The floor is yours, Finn. Ask ahead!”

So… how is he supposed to do this, again?

This is the worst idea Finn’s had in his entire life. Seriously. And he accepted Rey’s dare to swing all the way up and around the swingset in fifth grade, he’s well aware of what reckless looks like. This is it.

Still, he’s stuck now. Poe’s listening to him. Kind of forced to.

And against his own better judgement, Finn silences the million overthinking thoughts in his inner ear by simply saying whatever hits him first, “Did you mean what you said? In the song?”

Seconds feel like fucking hours right now.

“Sorry, can you-” one of the hosts start, but he feels moved to continue. “When did you write it?”

It’s low, the feedback of his boyfriend’s microphone can just be made out. He prays that was only comprehensible enough for Poe’s own ears, because Finn could never possibly live with himself if he outed the person he loves most in the world. Seems so, given the interviewer once again asks the singer in confusion.

“What do you say, Poe? Do you need, uh… for him to elaborate?”

“No.” the man says simply, shyness seemingly having faded away in a glimpse. “Finn, I wrote this back in May.”

Four months ago. Same month as their FaceTime call.

“Only a week after our call. Took me five hours. I needed to get every word just right.” Poe says those words so steadily it shocks Finn. His hand feels numb and itchy around the tiny device, and one of the hosts gasps.

“I-” he starts, but has no idea where to go, where to turn. Finn didn’t expect any of this tonight. A deep breath is needed, “Do you mean… you wrote it about me?”

He feels like an absolute idiot for asking, even doubting it, but given the emotional rollercoaster he’s been through up until now, he’s grasping for straws of confirmation. Poe chuckles, barely audible.

“All my songs are about you, darling.”

What the fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Another gasp is heard in the studio, a little louder this time, but he sends a silent thanks, still, to them being too taken aback to intervene.

Okay, these are definitely tears in Finn’s eyes, now.

One rolls down, cool against his hot cheek, and he almost wants to laugh widely, processing what’s happening over and over in his brain.

What’s mostly replaying is the nickname that he’s missed… too much.

If they were in the same room, in front of each other, alone , he could say and ask a million things. This conversation is impossibly too vulnerable for open air, but Finn really thinks, really, that this step was needed. At least, it’s something he’s been longing to hear.

Instead of breaking down in the happiness and sadness he’s feeling, instead of talking about the miscommunication they’ve been the victim of, he smiles. Can’t stop. It’s hurting his whole face, actually, but his chest feels endlessly lighter.

“If… uh,” Finn chuckles at himself again, him and his stupid emotions, probably laced obviously in his voice, “Is there a chance that you still want to write songs about me?”

Poe laughs back, warmer and wobblier than before. “Of course. Of-fucking-course. There’s no one else I’d rather write about.”

Those hosts over there are probably freaking out big time, but Finn can’t bring himself to care much.

They sigh rather in unison. Him and his boyfriend. Breathing shaky and yet steadying themselves, almost. Together.

“Okay. Okay. Thank fuck,” he finds himself sniffling, “Okay.”

“They’ll always be about you.”

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saintqueer · 3 years

Text

On Being 13

by saintqueer

Date Written: July 2019

CW: brief mention of an eating disorder

I will be posting a series of old creative nonfiction essays I wrote in 2019-20 every Friday and tagging them #a saintqueer original. Some might be a little outdated but I'm getting my feet wet in the experience of sharing my own writing again. Hope you enjoy! My inbox is always open.

Your name is Jordan. It is 2006 and you just turned 13. You are officially a teenager. Not a preteen. Nor god-forbid a tween. You’re in eighth grade at middle school in the Bay Area suburbs and you just got your first cell phone. It’s a silver LG flip phone without a camera. Modern social media has been born but is not yet widespread. Myspace and AIM are still the name of the game. And your friend’s Top 8s are literally worth crying over. You buy songs you like on iTunes for 99 cents. Songs like Far Away by Nickelback and Jesus, Take the Wheel by Carrie Underwood. That is, until you wizen up and start using LimeWire in 2007. By that time, you’ll think your tastes much improved. You’ll illegally download songs like Buy U a Drank by T-Pain, Wait For You by Elliott Yamin, and everything Chris Brown puts out. Every single feeling you have is so large it’s like it has the potential to kill you. Weird shit is happening to your body. You started puberty early but it shows absolutely no sign of stopping. Things just seem to be getting weirder and more emotional. You cut your own side bangs and they look hella cool.

Ok, let’s pause there. I’m gonna go ahead and break the fourth wall here. Reader, I was planning on doing this entire piece as a kind of immersive second person experience. But. I. Just. Can’t. It’s too hard and writing about being 13 is difficult enough. I think that intro was enough to get you in the right head space of Jordan circa 2006-2007.

Over the last year, there has been more truthful explorations of the adolescent experience in media than ever before. With shows like Pen15 and Big Mouth and films like Eighth Grade, I feel like for the first time I’m starting to come to terms with my own adolescence. Being 13 is really fucking hard. And 13-year-olds get such a bad rap when, honestly, they’re just trying to do the best they can with all the shit they’ve been thrown.

I first felt compelled to write this piece when reading a section of a book from my favorite podcaster, Karen Kilgariff. Karen describes a lecture series she went to in which one of the presenters made a case in defense of 13 year olds. Karen writes that being 13 “is the hardest age you ever have to be because of all the chemicals and hormones constantly raging through your body. It’s like you’re being drugged and then woken up with speed on a daily basis. All social structure implodes and resets itself in a totally unfamiliar way. You’re simultaneously the oldest version of a child and the youngest version of an adult, so you don’t belong anywhere. You don’t get babied, and you don’t get respect.” Basically, it fucking sucks!!!

At 13, my eating disorder was already in full swing and my body-dysmorphia-riddled brain had no shortage of reasons for why my life would be so much better if I weighed 25 pounds less. They would weigh us in gym class, one by one, and assign us our BMI classification (mine was “overweight”). I was constantly dieting, with resounding approval from family and peers; starving my growing body of whole food groups and then binging. My school used to sell these pizza hot pocket things in plastic wrapping called pizza sticks (they were so DELICIOUS). One time, I found an unopened and still-warm pizza stick on the floor next to a garbage can. Wildly hungry from my meager carb-less lunch I picked it up off the floor and shoved it into my mouth, facing the wall, in as few bites as possible so no one would see. OFF THE FLOOR…OUTSIDE. I think it was on a pile of leaves and other trash (though unopened, it was slightly flattened on one side so it might have been stepped on?). This is actually the first time I’ve told anyone that I did that. Blogging is fun.

I was truly beginning to understand that my body was a commodity in society. I couldn’t take up space as a girl and to be beautiful was to be frail. My body was a sexual thing but I was not allowed to be a sexual being. Boys were the horny ones, not girls. But boy, was I! The thing was I couldn’t tell anyone, only the bathtub faucet could know. This was heightened all the more by my church and my faith. Youth group taught me the importance of dressing modestly and how we had to do everything within our power to help easily tempted boys remain sexually pure. I had so much shame that I had any kind of sexuality at all.

A majority of us wanted to fit in when we were 13. And I wanted it desperately. It’s not necessarily that I wanted to be cool, it’s more like I just wanted to belong. I wanted to have best friends. I wanted boys to have crushes on me. I wanted to be wanted. And it never happened for me. I didn’t develop deep lasting friendships until my late teens. I didn’t have my first kiss until I was 21, for god’s sake. My friends at 13 were changeable and excluding. I felt like I was constantly vying for their approval and as I entered high school in 2007, my social life became the center of my world.

Admittedly, high school felt much more enjoyable than middle school. I had established my place in the cool crowd and shirked academics. I stopped listening to Christian Rock and started listening to Lil Wayne and learning how to twerk. I cut class with a friend to straighten my hair with my hot pink straightener in Starbucks. I got in trouble with the cops for underage drinking. I got better at actually starving myself for a few days at a time instead of just dieting. I was significantly better at swearing. However, every single thing still felt like the biggest deal ever and it felt like it would always be that way.

Now, over a dozen years later, I hardly ever think about how it felt to be 13. I always forget that I “fell in love” with a boy named Alex at church summer camp who I saw from afar five times and talked to once for two minutes. It’s hard to believe now that I wrote his name in sharpie on my converse sneakers and sang I Drive Myself Crazy by *Nsync while crying and staring directly back at myself in the mirror.

This might seem unforgiving but I feel like the one redeemable thing about being 13 is that it doesn’t last forever. It ends. You grow and you change and you work through your trauma. If you’re lucky, you get better friends and you go to therapy and do some healing over ten years later by watching tv shows and movies that remind you of every painful feeling. Then you look back and laugh. You laugh at that school dance where Peter said he’d never, ever slow dance with you. You laugh at the school dance less than a year later where you grind provocatively on a dude you don’t know to Get Low by Lil Jon and the Ying Yang Twins. You laugh (hysterically, I might add) at eating that pizza stick off the floor. You laugh at smoking weed for the first time using a plastic water bottle your friend somehow turned into a shitty bong. You laugh at shoplifting your first thong from Ross. You laugh at your self-cut side bangs. You laugh and you laugh and you laugh and then you, finally, move on.

#a saintqueer original #creative nonfiction series #honestly this kind of made me cackle out loud reading for the first time in two years #especially that pizza hot pocket story hahahaha im losing it lol #i remember this was very fun to write two summers ago #i was dating a girl for the first time and just having a wild summer and it was so nice to look back and reflect on my adolescence #with humor rather than cringing #anyways hope y'all get a giggle out of this #eating disorders tw

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analyzingadventure · 3 years

Text

I’ve wanted to write about this for ages and Psi has kind of made relevant so

I always thought it was weird if we saw a Digimon die and then come back as the exact same species of Digimon.

(This isn’t specific to any series though I do use Adventure a lot in this discussion. May also contain spoilers for Psi)

Now admitedly there aren’t too many examples of this in the franchise (Patamon and Leomon being one of the few notable ones), but that is mainly because deaths are fairly rare, and even deaths we do see, it’s even rarer to see them come back (even when we know the mechanics of the world should make it totally possible)*. But nonetheless, it always felt weird to me when it did happen (or when us fans assume the Digimon would come back as the same species)

To properly explain why it feels weird to me, I first need to ramble about Digimon as “persons” and evolution as a whole

The thing that makes people who they are, are their memories. It’s their life experiences and their feelings of those experiences. It’s not where you’re born, the community you live in or the culture you’re raised in- of course these do affect who you are, but all they do is influence your life experiences and feelings about everything. They are incredbly imporant, and they play a factor in making you “you”, but those things aren’t “you”; “you” are your memories. And an imporant note here, is that who you are changes as you grow older, as you gain more experiences, feelings and memories. That’s why the “10yo you” is different from the “20yo you” or "40yo you” (etc), and why you will continue to change, even if it was ever so slightly, as you get older. Hell, the “you” who started reading this essay minutes ago is already a different person from the “you” who is reading this sentence right now. “You” are everchanging, ever-evolving.

So what makes a Digimon “them”? Or, more specifically, what makes each Digimon the species they are? Yes, this is a deeply related question for me, because we humans (I swear I’m not a robot) do express “who we are” outside, through our actions, our interests and how we appear to others, though not just what clothes we wear but also stuff like how we do our hair, tattoos, bodymods etc, not to mention things people don’t have control over from eye color, race, bodytype, height, all the way to disablities.

So if we as humans express so much (and so little) of “who we are” through how we appear, how would Digimon do it? How do Digimon express who they are?

It always just made sense to me if that was through evolution. That just as a Digimon experiences things, their evolutions will reflect the person they are, their feelings, memories, who they want to be.

Honestly this is one of the main reasons why I’ve always hated strict, Pokémon-like evolution lines (not even trees, just lines!!) in Digimon, the idea that these non-physical, A.I. data monsters can only appear a certain way through their lifespans based on whatever they were born as is just depressing to me. And while one might argue “it’s just how they are”, that rule only exists if you specifically go out of your way to write it in, otherwise there’s no reason for it to exist, but I’m getting super sidetracked ranting right now

Like just as an example of the kind of freedom I like to think Digimon could and should have, I want you to picture in your mind an Agumon.

Just a regular ol’ Agumon, living in the Digital World, minding their own business. This Agumon starts travelling for fun, enjoying seeing the world and whatever. During this time they realize they’re not really built for travelling and while their stamina increases as they go on and they get better at hiking, they still kind of wish they were more “built” for this type of activity so that they could enjoy their life more- And eventually they evolve into a Centarmon! Now they can move faster (etc) and enjoy their travelling life more, and they do just that! Life is great! Until one day they come across the ocean, a beautiful, vast “world” of its own, but one... they can’t explore, at least not any longer than they can hold their breath. They still spend their time exploring what they can, near the beaches etc, until one day their wish to explore the ocean is fulfilled and they evolve into a MegaSeadramon! And now they have great access to the oceans!

Like this example is very extreme, but you get what I mean, with the idea that the evolutions reflect the type of person the Digimon is, what they enjoy and who they want to be. It’s the ever-evolving reflection of their heart that I love

**(Sidenote at the bottom)

And this is why I think it'd make sense if Digimon came back as a different species entirely.

Because while death may have reset their evolution stages back to zero, if the Digimon retains all their memories from their previous life, all their experiences, hopes, wishes and dreams, all of their feelings... Then why would all the growth the Digimon had gone through in their previous life be reset? Shouldn’t their new life continue their previous growth and take different forms to reflect any new paths the mon might take in this life?

Just to use the Agumon from above as an example, if this mon died after spending quite some time as a MegaSeadramon, loving being a sea serpent and living in the ocean, wouldn’t it make sense they came back as a Sangomon instead of an Agumon (and yeah I think the Baby forms could be different too, depending on what they were but I’m skipping these)? Now of course, if they were happy living in the ocean and just totally content there, it’d make total sense if they then evolved to Seadramon and finally back to MegaSeadramon, I’m not saying they can’t come back to where they started at. What I do think is that it’d be weird if this mon went through the same Agumon -> Centarmon -> MegaSeadramon lifespan all over again if they wanted to be a sea-dweller from the get-go. And of course, as I alluded earlier; what if this Digimon, while living in the ocean as a Sangomon during their second life actually felt like they had seen what the ocean had to offer? What if they started hoping they could explore the skies? What if that wish helped them evolve to Airdramon instead, and they never go back to being a MegaSeadramon? This is what I mean when I say the second life would be a continuation of their life and their growth, it shouldn’t reset those things.

Now of course, from a simple writing point of view, it’d be confusing if a Digimon we were previously familiar with died and came back as a totally different Digimon, and even more confusing for kids. It’s easier to keep it simple and leave the Digimon the same species as they were in their previous lives

Additionally, most of these characters that we’ve seen die have always been minor characters with limited to non-existant histories; characters like Leomon, Whamon, Scumon+Chuumon, Piccolomon etc, while they’re all really well characterized with distinct personalities, they don’t have histories, backstories, they’re not deep characters. And making this many minor characters with deep backstories for a kids show would be really hard to pull off when you have deadlines to meet and no budget. So showing “the growth” these Digimon have gone through is not really do-able, not with these characters at least.

The Digimon with the most potential here would be Orgamon (the best developed minor character in Adventure) but he never died, Nanomon for sure, and possibly Wizarmon (esp. since his data could be like mildly busted, due to not being a Digimon originally and then dying in the Human World; if anything I think it’d be fun if Wizarmon could “come back” but as a Bakemon or something)

And as far as Patamon goes in Adventure, I do think with him it’s fine he came back in the same Digimon forms. Like my previous examples with “the Agumon”, this would be like natural evolution that happens over long, looong periods of time, years upon years no doubt, as the Digimon grows as a person. But the partner Digimon, they don’t really have the time to grow naturally, their evolutions aren’t really reflections of their growth. Rather, their evolutions are just powered up versions of who they are, with some reflection from their human partners. So with these partner Digimon (especially the Adventure-type “soul fragment” Digimon, less so with other series like especially Xros Wars), the evolutions being super linear does make sense and work just fine. And as an extention of that, these Digimon dying and coming back in the same species works out, like with Patamon in Adventure

Psi however, makes things a lot more interesting, because in Psi, the partner Digimon have backstories of their own.

Now for the most part, since the partners had lost their memories of their time fighting Mille as the Warriors, their growth being totally reset and them going through the same steps all over again does kinda make sense, it’s maybe a lil dull but that’s probably just my bias from being overly familiar with these characters.

But then there’s Patamon and Tailmon, two Digimon who retain their memories from their previous lives and the growth they’ve gone through. That growth, was own their own, from their own lives without any influence from any humans. But now, they have human partners, who influence them and their growth. And Psi has seemingly kind of spoiled the endgame for us, at least to some capacity?

We know in their previous lives Patamon and Tailmon were a Seraphimon and an Ofanimon, but based on the new key visual/poster, it seems Psi wants to use Goddramon and Holydramon as their final evolutions instead! And honestly, even if these evolutions didn’t come as a result of all the stuff I’ve rambled about in this post, it’ll still work for me for those reasons.

Additionally, while we know Patamon was only temporarily taking the form of Pegasmon because he lost his power and was literally unable to evolve to Angemon, for previously mentioned reasons if they had kept the Pegasmon evolution for the rest of the series it still would’ve worked for me, as it could’ve been seen as Pegasmon being a reflection of Takeru’s childlike innocence influencing Patamon’s evolutions

But yeah. I can’t remember if I had like a bottom line when I started writing this but it sure as hell is gone from my mind now, point is, I kinda wish Digimon’s evolution was seen slightly differently and written slightly differently, and explored more, especially through the Digimon who had previously died (who I would also like to see come back when the rules of the universe allow it instead of just ignoring the fact that they should be alive and well). And generally speaking I wish Digimon were written with more depth. Thank you for reading this incoherent mess

*Sidenote; arguably I think this could’ve applied to tri. as well, the Digimon who had their memories wiped completely could’ve totally evolved into different Digimon and maybe even should’ve

**Sidenote, this wouldn’t mean there’s NO limitations to what species a Digimon could evolve into; for example, just because you want to be a super powerful heroic Digimon like Omegamon it doesn’t mean you CAN evolve into Omegamon; if being valiant and heroic at heart were requirements to evolve to Omegamon, then unless you’re truly valiant and heroic at heart then you probably wouldn’t be able to evolve to Omegamon, if anything you might end up as Omekamon instead. Similarly if a certain species have other specific requirements, be it like Jogress requirements or Digimentals etc, then unless those requirements were met the evolution wouldn’t be possible So what I’m getting at is that limitations/requirements could totally still exist (depending on the rules of the specific setting), but being “the right species” to go from A to B wouldn’t and shouldn’t be one, at least not in my heart, but I digress

#Analysis #Analyzation #Holy shit I wrote an essay for this blog #This is like the first one I've written here for YEARS

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morepeachyogurt · 3 years

Text

a sky full of stars (and she was looking at her)

Word Count- 2.8k

Pairing- Penemily

Summary- Penemily highschool au where they are paired up on a English assignment! Based on this post.

Part 1 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series

Read it here on ao3

Tw’s- very small mentions of substances, minor swearing

A/N- this is the first installment of a series based on my yearning posts, and my first time writing romance/3rd pov, I’d love some feedback!

It’s hard to miss Penelope Garcia. With her bright clothes and brighter personally it seems like the sun shines a spotlight on her. Her golden hair is like a halo around her, she looks like an angel, and perhaps one of these days Emily will get the courage to talk to her beyond small talk and group presentations. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the shrill bell rings, too loudly for her tastes but this whole building seems to scream at her, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Ms. Blake starts to talk about ancient poetry. The greats from the time periods before everything got so complicated. English is not Emily’s favorite class but somehow Blake’s class is more or less interesting, is it because she’s a milf? Maybe, who’s to say. As the class nears its end, she announces, “Alright, as we close out our poetry unit, we have one last assignment that hopefully at least one of you will enjoy, it’s a group project where-” immediately two hands go up ready to ask the question that always gets asked when a group project is announced. “Before you ask, no, you aren’t picking your partners, I am,” a collective groan comes out of about half the class. Emily isn’t too mad about it though, she doesn’t have many friends, especially in honors English. JJ barely passes English as it is. She’s all alone here, so she’s glad she doesn’t have to suffer through the awkwardness of trying to find a partner before everyone else does and ending up with the one kid who she’s pretty sure has been high the entire year and likes to leer at her in the hallway. “For this assignment, you’ll have to analyze one famous poem, from whatever time period you’d like, and write an essay about the poet’s intentions. If you’d like extra credit, which I know for a fact some of you need, you can do a reading of the poem in front of the class or do a drawing that represents it. Any questions?”

The classroom fills with questions of ‘when is this due?’ And ‘this sucks do we have to do this’. Emily however, is distracted by one very colorful girl in the upper left corner of the room, her spot in the back lets her admire the view without being caught, which tends to make it difficult to pay attention, but well, some things are just more fun than others. Her attention is drawn back to Blake when she hears her name followed by Penelope Garcia.

Oh shit.

On the one hand, this is exactly the opportunity she��d been looking for to ‘make her move’ so to speak, on the other, she’s terrified of making a fool of herself. Emily realizes that she’s been sitting for a bit too long when Blake stops talking and the rest of the class has already paired off. She catches Penelope’s eyes and tries to fight the blush of her cheeks. The sound of her docs hitting the linoleum is a bit too intense for this setting, she prefers their ‘clunk’ when it’s a crowded room, and she can walk like she owns the place. Emily sits down at the desk adjacent to Penelope and gets ready to ruin her chances with her.

“Okay! Hi! I’m Penelope! Which you already knew because Ms. Blake announced it, but it’s polite to introduce yourself to people so I thought I would do that now which I’ve done so I’ll stop talking now!”

Emily can’t help but giggle a little at her rambling, she doesn’t want her to stop talking quite yet, her voice melodic to her ears.

“So, I’m not big in poetry, I’m more of a comic book gal if you catch my drift, so I was hoping that you had some thoughts?” She drags the o in hoping and trails off waiting for Emily to fill in the blanks. It takes her a second too long because her brain is short-circuiting but she manages.

“Yeah okay, um, I’ve read some Sappho back when my mother was stationed in Greece? That could work?” she hopes bringing up Sappho wasn’t too obvious of her intentions, but it was all she could think of. Sappho had a point when she said ‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave – slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl’

“Yeah okay! Cool! We’ve got like 3 minutes left of class, would you want to go to Bricks and Beans after school to work on it?”

“Uh yeah, yeah, that, um, that sounds great! I’ll meet you in front of the school?”

“Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ and Emily thinks she can’t possibly get cuter.

Emily’s walk to lunch has never been quite this mix of excitement and anxiety as it is now. Hopefully, JJ will be able to make sense of what’s happening because the wires in Emily’s brain are very much twisted.

“Okay, I’m telling you it’s not a date,”

“Yeah I know it’s not technically a date but come on. I personally have never asked my group project partner to a coffee shop before. She obviously likes you.”

Jennifer Jareau has been blessed with the right combination of looks that ensures she never had to wonder if her crushes liked her back. Emily wishes she had that special brand of confidence, but it’s simply not realistic, the number of openly queer girls at school is small, the number of them that would be interested in her? Even smaller.

“Look I’m not going to be the loser that gets my heart broken all right,” she steals a fry off of JJ’s tray before her hand gets smacked.

“Ugh I’m so bored here, promise me you’ll at least try. I need some new drama around here and you two would be so fucking cute.”

“Fine. On the condition that when* it goes south you’re buying me ice cream.”

Emily’s day goes by slowly and all at once. Hours turn into years turn into seconds and before she knows it she’s awkwardly standing outside the building waiting for Penelope to meet her.

When she does, Emily’s pulse quickens ever so slightly in her presence. It’s annoying as hell.

“I was worried you were standing me up,” a futile attempt on Emily’s behalf of trying to seem calm, cool, and collected.

“What! I would never, I’ve been looking forward to getting a macchiato and hanging out with you and Sappho all day! Coolest ladies from recent history,” she has to try and stop herself from getting too excited at Penelope’s words, they don’t mean anything, she’s just some loser that she has to work with to get a good final grade in the class. A means to an end, disposable.

“I don’t think Sappho counts as recent history but thank you, ma’am,” ma’am? God, what is she doing, this is going to go south faster than the time she tried to wear ripped jeans to one of her mother’s stupid dinner parties. To her surprise, her stupid comment is met with a giggle on Penelope’s part.

“Why thank you darling,” she replies in a phony southern accent that makes them both crack up, “Lead the way.”

Bricks and Beans is the staple coffee shop where all the high schoolers hang out after school or work during college. The owners are a sweet old couple in their 70’s who seem to be reliving the past with the vintage decorations. The pair settle into a table in the back, a window next to them showing off the highway. Emily is tasked with buying the coffees and Penelope rattles off her order filled with things Emily’s never even heard of.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure the barista is laughing at me now but here is your sugar coffee with whipped cream,” she says as she slides into her seat, placing down the coffees on the minimal free space left.

“My savior,” she says, fake swooning, “Okay so, Sappho? That’s the lesbian right?”

Emily answers with a snort before actually replying, “Yeah that’s the lesbian. I’m sure Blake will love it. I’m like, 90% sure she’s gay.”

“Single English teacher who loves Oscar Wilde? Yeah, I get it. My gaydar is spectacular by the way.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods.

“Um, yeah, okay how about this poem:

‘and in your song most of all she rejoiced.

But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women

as sometimes at sunset

the rosyfingered moon

surpasses all the stars. And her light

stretches over salt sea

equally and flowerdeep fields.

And the beautiful dew is poured out

and roses bloom and frail

chervil and flowering sweetclover.

But she goes back and forth remembering

gentle Atthis and in longing

she bites her tender mind’”

“That’s gorgeous,” Penelope had a dreamy look in her eyes, like seeing a beautiful sunset for the first time. Except, instead of a sunset she was looking at Emily, seeing her, like for the first time, “I love when artists talk about the stars,” she leans back on her chair and looks up as if she’s looking at a constellation and not an off-white popcorn ceiling. Her collarbones are exposed and Emily feels like a 17th-century peasant pining over exposed ankles, “There’s just something about the stars ya know? They’re so far away, but sometimes it feels like we’re there with them. They twinkle at us and at each other,” she pauses to make eye contact, “maybe the greatest love story is in the sky,” there’s a beat too long, Emily doesn’t know how to respond to that comment, it’s hard to follow art without ruining it.

“Or maybe I’m just a sad sap for romance.”

“No!” She gets a of couple heads turned her way, the exclamation too loud for the environment, “I mean no, I get what you mean, they’re beautiful. Sometimes at night I go on my roof just to stargaze. It’s so peaceful there,” it’s now or never, “you should do it with me someday.”

“I’d love that,” it’s almost bashful, the two of them hoping the underlying meanings of their words are being shown, lest their hopes not be conveyed and come shattering down like a falling star.

The sun slowly sets as they work on interpreting the inter-workings of Sappho’s mind. The drinks run out so Emily buys them both hot chocolate, extra whipped cream and chocolate chips for Penelope. When she takes a sip, the whipped cream sticks to the side of her face.

“You got some whipped cream on your face,” she gestures to the offender in question. The blonde tries and fails, to get it off.

“Did I get it?”

“No, it’s more,” after some failed attempts, and the failure of Emily’s common sense, she decides to just get it off herself. It feels too intimate too quick, they both freeze, Emily’s hand inches away from Penelope’s face. Their eyes lock, scared brown eyes met soft blue ones and just for a second, there is peace in between their beating hearts and hands. Emily quickly brings her hand down and mumbles an apology.

After three hours they call it a night, Emily now the proud owner of Penelope’s phone number. On her drive home, she wonders if she’d done right, and she wonders if she’d done wrong. If she was clear about what stargazing meant to her. A branch into her world, her safe space. To share the dark night sky with something is to share your soul with them. Even JJ didn’t know about her nighttime viewings. Did Penelope feel the same way? The shared smiles and small laughs pointed yes. But Penelope was Penelope and Emily was Emily. How could an angel love a human? Why would it sacrifice its virtue for the danger of love? If Penelope was pink and Emily was dark green, could they mix and make something beautiful or would they both end up a ruined brown?

Dinner is tense as always, she does not share anything with her mother, she does not want to. They tiptoe around each other hoping that they won’t step on each other’s toes and crash. Emily retreats to her room the second dinner is over and opens a window. She loves that it gets dark earlier now. The fresh fall air trumps that tacky of scented candles that fill the house in a futile attempt to make it a home. She opens her laptop to finish the concluding paragraph of their essay. She allows herself to be lost in the words of another in order to avoid her own problems of love and belonging. Her phone rings. It’s her problems. They chat with careful conversation about their project and finally, it is finished. It looks good actually, or at least, to Emily it does. It’s not going to win them a Pulitzer, but they’ll get an A.

And then, “Hey.”

“Hey?” They’ve been on the phone for a half an hour, she’s not sure why she’s being greeted all of a sudden.

“Does your offer to stargaze still stand? It’s nice out tonight and, I don’t know, it sounded nice?”

“Yeah of course! Do you, um, do you need a ride or?”

“Nah I got my license and good old Esther. I do need your address though.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll text it to you. Who’s Esther?”

“My car! She’s a lovely thing thought she needed a name. I’ll be there in say, 15 minutes?”

“Sure. Bye Penelope.”

Holy shit.

Okay, she’s got 15 minutes to both have everything ready, but also seem completely casual about the fact that her crush is coming over to stargaze on her roof. The ambassador is long retreated either in bed or into her office, so she shouldn’t be a problem. Emily grabs a couple of blankets for them to sit on to avoid the chilly breeze and a bag of popcorn. She brushes her hair and touches up her eyeliner, not that it’s really visible in the dark, but it helps her feel confident which she’s desperate for at the moment. Her phone buzzes with a text, *im here!!!* It reads. She takes a deep breath before very slowly opening the door.

“Hi,” she whispers, the wind carrying her voice, but it’s just loud enough for its recipient. She closes the door

“Hi! So! Stargazing? That’s fun, I’m like, really excited it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this,” she somehow makes a whisper seem filled with enough energy to power a flashlight that Emily definitely should have brought. They make their way to the intersection where the hill meets the rooftop, and they only trip once, on a stick, but together they stay upright. Emily throws the blankets on the roof and climbs up on the chair before throwing her body on the roof. With her help, Penelope makes her way up after a couple of tries. By the time they lay the blankets out and are sitting down, they’re both practically crying from laughter, her nerves from earlier disappearing slowly.

The laughter fizzles out, and they’re both left staring at the stars. Penelope apparently is an expert of both astronomy and astrology so Emily’s ears are blessed with the sound of her voice. Like sunshine on a sweet summer day. She thinks that Penelope and her are like the sun and the moon, both beautiful, and complementary. Emily’s gaze shifts from the constellations to Penelope’s side profile. The stars shine almost as bright as her, and she can’t help but watch her instead. She can see the stars in her eyes, perhaps they were always there, but they’re more visible now looking in their reflection.

“God they’re beautiful,” Penelope says in awe. Like she can’t believe she’s blessed with the presence of the stars when really it is the stars who should have the honor.

“Yeah, yeah they are,” at this point she’s openly gazing at Penelope. When Penelope turns to meet her gaze she thinks she’s been caught, that it’s over and this night will be one for the ages in terms of beauty and heartbreak. Slowly, a hand makes its way to her cheek, cold like the air around them, but it somehow manages to set her skin on fire.

“May I?”

Emily nods and then they are lips on hers, it is sweet just like her. She’s being kissed under the starlight by a girl who deserves only beauty. Perhaps her dark green can be the field by the sunset of Penelope’s pink in the painting they make together. They do not have to mix, they can simply be combined to create something stunning. They can simply be. They pull apart slowly, and looking into her eyes, Emily thinks that the stars in comparison are simply dull. There is nothing as bright and beautiful in the world as the eyes of your lover.

Tag list- @royalpenelope @scandinavian-punk @kermitsaysgayrights

#penemily #Penelope garcia #emily prentiss #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #let me know what y’all think!!!#lucy’s fics!#mine!

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thegreatestofheck · 4 years

Text

Ocean and Alcohol Pt. 3 ✘JJ Maybank✘

Part One! Part Two!

(not my gif. All credit to pterparkcr!) Part 3/? Word Count - 6371 Warnings - Abuse mentions, underage drinking, swearing, steaming fluff (is that thing? idk) Synopsis - The party at Sarah Cameron’s has a rocky start, but ends rather well in your opinion. Taglist - @lovelymaybankk A/N - As with the other parts in this series, it’s in the second person with a named character! Thank you so much to lovelymaybankk for being a wonderful supporter, I really appreciate it! If anyone wants to see the playlist I listen to while writing these, let me know. Thank you all, I love you a million!

When you finally got home, your dad was sitting on the bottom of the stairs, just like Kid had been the night before. “Hey, Dad,” you said, setting your keys in the bowl by the door. “Hey, sweetheart.” From the tone in his voice, you knew a teary-eyed apology was on its way. You groaned inwardly as you shut your eyes. “I...I wanted to apologize for last night.” “It’s not a big deal, Dad,” you said, opening your eyes and putting on a smile. “But it is.” He pushed himself off the stairs and took a few hurried steps forward. He stopped when he saw you flinch and step backward. Tears brimmed his eyes and he covered his mouth with his hands. “I hurt my baby girl and my boy and I….” He broke down into tears, falling to one knee as he sobbed. You grit your teeth, trying to blink away a few tears of your own. He did this almost every time. He either pretended like it never happened or he cried, there was never another option. You preferred the first because you never felt obligated to comfort him, like you did now. “Dad.” You walked over to him and dropped down next to him. You wrapped your arms around him and he leaned into you, clinging to your arm. Every piece of your heart shattered as you heard him cry. His tears soaked through your pajama shirt. You hid a sob of your own by planting a kiss onto his head. Keeping your breathing steady, you slowly peeled him off of you, putting your hands over his teary cheeks. “There is one way you can make it up to me,” you said, plastering on a smile. “Anything,” he choked out. “Anything.” “Sarah is having a get together tonight and she wants me to come.” “You...go out?” You heard the concern in his voice so you pushed harder. “You know how much I like Sarah, and I know you want me to make better friends. This is me trying.” When it was clear he was still mulling it over in your mind, you pulled the last stop you knew would guarantee a yes. “And...Rafe will be there tonight.” “Rafe?” The tears were immediately gone from his eyes. You nodded, though your stomach sickened. “I thought you hated him.” “He’s not as bad as I thought.” A lie. He was worse. “Well, if someone responsible like Rafe is there….” You resisted the urge to laugh. “As long as it isn’t a party, you can go.” A grin spread across your lips. You leaned down and kissed your dad on the cheek, just one more foot in his goodwill door. “Thank you, Daddy.” You helped him to his feet and brushed away a few of his stray tears. “I love you, sweetheart.” “Love you.” As soon as you were upstairs, you vomited the words out of your mouth. While you were glad that you had been given permission to go to the party, you hated how low you had to go to get there. Making your dad bend to your will was generally easy and very rarely did you actually feel bad about it. After all, his favorite past time was beating you senseless, so why couldn’t you manipulate him to get the things you wanted? It seemed like a pretty fair game. You brushed your teeth twice before heading back to your room to start homework. As soon as you opened your computer, you knew that you were going to get very little done. Your mind went, as it usually did these days, straight to JJ. You weren’t sure how to feel. You fought the last time you spoke to him, but you also spent the entire night thinking about seeing him at this party. And then you saw him kiss another girl and then spent the entire day wanting to murder him. And now you were just double confused because he seemed ready enough to introduce you to one of his best friends. Your mind was all over the place and none of those places was homework. In hopes to drown out your own thoughts and focus better, you turned on some music. But then the song that you and JJ ‘danced’ to came on and you were thrown into all over again. You found yourself humming and tapping your foot instead of typing out your essay. Eventually, frustration overcame you and you tossed your computer onto your pillow and shut off the music. You spent the next few hours trying to not think about JJ and focus on your school. It had never been hard to focus before. You knew you needed to go to a good school to get a good job to be able to take care of Kid once your dad was out of the picture, and that meant getting good grades now. Homeschooling wasn’t too hard for you, but if you didn’t get most of your work done today, you were going to suffer for it later. JJ and his stupid smile were really throwing a wrench in every single one of your plans. The time came for you to pick Kid up from school, but he texted you asking if you could pick him up from a friend’s in an hour or two. As long as you got him home before Dad got home, you usually let him go and do whatever he wanted after school. You wanted your brother to have the social life you never did. You didn’t have a big sister to cover for you or pick you up from wherever when you were his age. But that didn’t matter. You were going to be the big sister that you always wished you had.

You somehow managed to focus long enough to finish the essay and start on your math homework. It didn’t take long for Kid to text you to tell you to come and pick him up. The entire drive there and back, you were worried that you would somehow run into JJ like you had before. “Are you okay?” Kid asked, looking up from his comic. “Hmm? Yeah, oh yeah.” “Why do you keep looking out the window?” “No reason.”

Now consciously aware of your wandering eyes, you tried to keep your gaze fixed on the road ahead. The sun was starting to go down and the only thing you should be worried about right now was getting Kid home quickly and finishing your work, not JJ. Luckily, you made it home without any unwanted visitors and a few minutes before your Dad got home. Kid sat on the ground in your room munching on some potato chips while the both of you worked on school work. You heard your Dad pull into the driveway. You and Kid glanced at each other and shared a knowing smile. It always felt like a victory when Kid was able to do something without Dad finding out. After a few minutes, your dad knocked on your door and opened it. “Hey, Kiddos.” “Hey, Dad.” “Tacos good for tonight?” “Sure,” Kid said. “Elm?” “I’m going over to Sarah’s, remember? They’ll have food there,” you said with a smile. Your dad’s face fell for a moment.

“Ah, yes.” “And I’m sure if I don’t get enough to eat, Rafe would be more than happy to get me something,” you added, praying that your dad worshiped Rafe enough to not double back on his word. “Rafe, yes. I’m sure he will.” He sighed. “How was work?” You asked, hoping to change the subject. “Good, good. Busy.”

“That’s good.” The air went stale when no one said anything else. “I’ll call you when dinner is ready, Bradford,” your dad said, looking down at Kid. He nodded, returning to his homework. “Thanks, Dad,” you said as he turned and shut the door.

You spent the next hour finishing up as much homework as you could before getting ready. You couldn’t remember the last time you put real effort into a party outfit. But this time you tried on at least five different outfits, asking Kid each time if it was alright before finally landing on something you liked. “Is that boy going to be at Sarah’s?” Kid asked, now sitting on your bed as you checked yourself out in the mirror again. “What boy?” You eyed your brother carefully. “That boy that was here a few weeks ago. The one who snuck out when Dad and I got back from our trip?”

You let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know,” you said, mentally punching yourself for overthinking things again. It didn’t matter if JJ was going to be at Sarah’s party because you had no intention of talking to him. Either you were going to end up crying (again) or you were going to punch him, and you were sick of crying. Even if JJ was there, you weren’t sure why you put so much attention into your outfit. You dropped to the floor, pressing your hands against your eyes. You heard Kid climb down from your creaky bed. He sat next to you and bumped your shoulder with his. You let out another sigh and leaned your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, afraid that your voice would break if you spoke any louder. “For what?” “For bringing my silly drama into your peaceful Friday night,” you said, lifting your head and trying to give a smile. Kid shook his head.

“You go get prettied up for this boy, El.”

A smile broke out on your face and you felt your cheeks heaten. Kid bumped your shoulder again and you scrambled upward to grab your makeup from your bathroom. Kid turned up the music and jumped back onto your bed. You bobbed your head, sitting in front of your mirror, as you finished your look. It was nearly seven by the time you were finished. “Ready?” You asked Kid. He looked up from his comic and pursed his lips, checking to make sure everything was in place. “Ready,” he confirmed with a smile. You walked over and kissed the top of his head, an unusually cheery bounce in your step. “Bye, Kid,” you said. “Be back by 12!” Kid said, deepening his voice to mimic your dad. You laughed as you slung your bag over your shoulder on the way to the door. “Bye!” You hurried down the stairs, smile glowing on your face. “You’ll be careful tonight?” Dad said from the kitchen. You startled and turned around. “Yeah, Dad. It’s just a few girls, there’s nothing to worry about.” “And Rafe?” You were about up to your ears with all the talk about Rafe, but if it meant you could go to this goddamn party, you would kiss up as much as you needed. “Yes,” you said, trying not to let your dad see the exasperated sigh you wanted to let out as you said it. “And Rafe.”

His final nod said that you had made it past the last wall of permission. You had to keep yourself from running out the door as fast as you could. Once you were outside, you bolted from the door all the way to your car. Blasting the music in your car got you singing at the top of your lungs as you drove, probably faster than you should have, to Sarah’s house.

Tannyhill wasn’t very far from your own house, only a 15 minute drive, but with anticipation gurgling in your stomach, it felt like forever. By the time you reached the house, you could tell that the party was in full bloom. A sudden spark of anxiety shot through you. What exactly were you supposed to be doing here? The only person you really liked was Sarah, but she had all of her own friends. So you sat in your car for five minutes before finally plucking up the courage to go inside. You were beyond thrilled when the first person you saw offered you a red cup with vodka. “Please,” you said and downed the entire thing. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to be taking alcohol from strangers at a party, but your nerves were already so fried from worry that you didn’t care who you took what from, as long as you were buzzed before anyone started talking to you. It didn’t take long for you to find Sarah, and to your surprise, she actually left her friends to come over to you. “Elma!” She said with a smile. “Just call me Elm,” you said as she neared. “Elma is a stupid name.”

Sarah giggled, already plastered, and handed you another cup of alcohol, which you gladly took. She dragged you over to her other friends, who gladly accepted you. You could tell they were all drunk off their asses because they took the time to speak to you, which wasn’t something most Kooks took pleasure in doing.

Two hours later, you heard hollering from outside that could mean only one thing; the pogue take over. Like the idiot he was, JJ was the first one in the door with a kegger in his hands. How he managed to carry the thing on his own like it was nothing was beyond you. Everyone in the house was silent for a moment and part of you was afraid they would all attack. But then a large cry of cheers erupted and you knew for a fact that everyone was drunk out of their minds. You were going to join in on the cheering when you saw the girl that JJ kissed yesterday walk in right behind him. Maybe it was the alcohol or the deep-rooted, unresolved trauma you buried deep in your chest, but you stood in a sudden flurry of anger and marched outside. You were on your fifth cup of beer and you could feel it affecting you. You should have tried to find the place where the music was loudest and dance out the alcohol, but all you managed to do was step outside and breathe in the weed smelling air. You just needed to breathe for a moment, you told yourself. You were being overdramatic and you needed to calm down. Of course, the universe was still punishing you for whatever the hell it was you did wrong because your moment of calm was soon interrupted by the one boy you assured your father would protect you, but who was also the same boy who was most likely to kill you. “What are you doing here, Elma?” You heaved out a disgusted sigh and hung your head. “I’m enjoying the party, Rafe,” you said, taking another drink from your cup.

“I don’t want you in my house.”

“First of all, this isn’t your house. Second, your sister invited me here. And lastly, as you can see-” You motioned up to the sky. “I am clearly not inside.” Rafe grabbed your wrist from behind and you spun around to face him, whatever joking mood you were in fading instantly to anger. “Don’t touch me,” you spat. “Get out.” “You can’t tell me what to do.” “What are you going to do, hit me again?” “Yeah, I might.”

You were seconds away from doing just that, when someone interrupted. “Let her go, Rafe,” JJ said, standing a few feet away. You rolled your eyes, downing the rest of your beer. “This is none of your business, pogue,” Rafe said, not taking his eyes off of you. You tilted your head to the side, one of the worst ideas you ever had popping into your head. “Rafe-” “Hey, Maybank,” you said, turning to look at him. “Shut up and learn to read the room, maybe.” Without giving him the chance to say anything, you stood on your toes and kissed Rafe full on the mouth. Did it make you want to vomit? Sure. Would you have rathered punch him in the face? Yes. Did it make you feel any better at all? Hell no. Especially when Rafe kissed you back. You waited to hear the door open and shut again before pulling away from Rafe. He lingered where he was for a moment, eyes shut and lips puckered. You cringed at him and wiped your lips with the back of your hand. “God, you’re pathetic,” you said, walking away from him. You went back inside to grab another drink, taking one shot of something before grabbing another cup of beer. You walked away from the house, wind stinging your eyes and making them water. At least, that’s what you told yourself to convince yourself that you weren’t about to cry. You walked out to the docks where you hoped you could be alone. You sat on the edge, kicking your feet back and forth over the water, your untouched beer beside you. Your mind was like mud, an unfortunate side effect of not spending your drunk energy on dancing. You could barely finish one coherent thought, which was never good. Finally, after a few minutes of trying to have a dramatic existential crisis without being able to think properly, you had enough. You slid off your sandals, setting them beside the beer. Taking a few steps away from the edge of the docks, you ran and jumped into the cold marsh. The chill kickstarted your system again. It was like a reboot. The mud was washed clean from your mind and you felt the return of your senses. You stayed beneath the water as long as you could. Once your lungs started to scream for air, you made for the surface. You gasped in air once you broke through, treading water to keep you afloat. Now shivering and wet, you swam over to the dock and reached up to pull yourself out. To your surprise, there was a hand waiting for you, offering your help out. You looked up at JJ, who stood with his other hand in his pocket. You took his hand and he pulled you out. Standing beside him, you were suddenly unsure of what to say. After spending hours thinking about it, you were silent when it really mattered. You started shivering almost as soon as the night chill hit your skin, but you tried to hide it. “I have a sweater in John B’s car, if you want to borrow it,” he said. Apparently your hiding skills weren’t at their prime. You nodded slowly and followed as he headed off toward the beat-up, old van that the Pogues drove around in. Neither of you said anything for a while. “Why’d you drive off this morning?” He asked suddenly. You turned your head to look at him with a cocked brow. “That’s your only question?” He shrugged so you let out a sigh and decided to answer. “Well, the last time we spoke, we didn’t really finish on the best of terms and then I saw you kiss that girl and I then I was, well I hit my head last night pretty hard so I was out of it and then Pope was there-” “Pope just happened to be there.” “Yeah? Well-” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear as you approached the car. “I guess I just freaked.” JJ pulled open the side door of the car and grabbed his sweater, handing it to you. You held it for a moment, unsure if putting on his sweater was the best idea. You were about to give yourself a full-blown essay about all the reasons it would be a bad idea when a sudden bluster of wind blew past, sending shivers up your spine. You quickly pulled the sweater on over your head. It took all of your remaining brain cells working together to not think about how warm it was or how much it smelled like him. “I didn’t kiss her,” JJ said as he slid the door shut. “What?” “That girl. I know what you’re talking about, but I didn’t kiss her.” Guilt turned your cheeks red. “Oh.” You looked down as the two of you started to walk away from the van. “I’m sorry then.” “For what?” You stifled a smile. “I may or may not have spent that entire day plotting how to kill you and dispose of your body so no one could ever find it,” you said, a smile pulling at your lips. JJ laughed and looked at the ground before looking back at you. “How would you do it?” “Let’s see,” you said, pulling your hands inside the sleeves of JJ’s sweater. “I think I settled on drowning you. You see, if you kill someone and then throw their body into the water, too much water gets in their lungs. Any coroner could see it from a mile away that something fishy happened.” “Duly noted.” “Yeah, and then I would take you and your boat out somewhere and capsize it somehow.” “Man, remind me to never piss you off again.”

You let out a laugh. When the smiles fell from both your lips, you spoke again. “I’m also sorry I kissed Rafe.”

“I’m pretty sure that hurt you more than it hurt me,” JJ said with a laugh. You stopped walking and put a hand on his wrist. He turned back toward you and the look in his eyes told you enough. “I really am sorry.” With a soft sigh, he pulled his hands from his pockets and placed them just below your jaw, tilting your face up toward his. He leaned down and instead of kissing your lips, he placed a long kiss against your forehead. Eyes fluttering shut, you breathed in a deep breath. You saw a flash from behind your eyelids. A storm must be coming. You didn’t care. JJ pulled back for just long enough to look into your eyes before dipping back down and kissing you properly. This wasn’t like before. It wasn’t needy or desperate or full of desire. It was something else. Something softer. Something far more terrifying. There was another flash. “You wanna get out of here?” You asked, looking up at him with a smile. He nodded and you grabbed his hand, leading him toward your car. “You left your shoes,” he said, pointing back toward the dock. “Oh, yeah.” You took one step in that direction, but he stopped you. “I’ll go get them.” Before you could say anything, he took off toward the dock. Watching him run toward your shoes, you felt a smile slowly pull its way up your lips until you were grinning like an idiot. A question floated at the front of your skull, a question you refused to fully ask, even in your own mind. When JJ returned to you, shoes in one hand, he smiled. “Shall we?” “We shall.”

The casual stroll to the car felt just as natural to you as breathing. Your hand itched to be held in his, but you didn’t want to push your luck tonight. Besides, holding hands was way too personal for you. You didn’t want to hold his hand. That would be so silly. You slid into the front seat of your car as JJ climbed in beside you. “You know, I’ve never seen a kook with an uglier car,” he said, closing the door. You looked at him and let out a confused laugh. “In the best way possible, of course.” “I’ll have you know,” you said as you put the keys into the ignition and started your car. “This baby could outrun that stinky van of yours any day.” “Hey, don’t insult John B’s van. We love that thing.” “Yeah, whatever.” You pulled out of the driveway, maneuvering around the other cars without hitting a single one. “Where are we going?” He asked. “What, are you afraid I’m actually going to kill you?” “I wouldn’t put it past you.” You let out a mock-hurt laugh, your heart hammering at the sound of his own. “I’m glad I let off murder vibes,” you said. JJ leaned toward you. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he said before kissing your cheek. “Excuse me?” You were trying not to take your eyes off the road, but JJ sitting so close to you and smiling like he was made it very difficult. “Didn’t you see me beat the shit out of Rafe?” “Yeah. Once. And you were drunk.” “Oh, please, I’ve done it a hundred times. I practically grew up with the guy,” you said. “Really? “Um, yeah. You really think the only practice I get fighting is when I’m swinging at my dad?” You scoffed. “No, sir. Rafe and I have been beating the shit out of each other since we had the muscle strength to swing our fists.” “Now that is interesting,” JJ said, leaning against his closed fist. “You find that interesting?” “Interesting, terrifying, sexy. Whatever you want to call it.” “I bet you I could beat your ass,” you said. “Was that a threat or a challenge?” “Both.” “Pull over and we’ll settle this now.” “Hold your horses, bucko. I’m almost to our destination.” JJ laughed, leaning his chair back. “There’s the bucko thing again.” “Shut up.” A few minutes later, you pulled off the main road and onto a narrow dirt road. “I am starting to feel like you are taking me somewhere to kill me.” “Hey, I already told you my murder plans and we turned away from the ocean, not toward it. For now, you can be pretty certain I’m not going to kill you.” JJ turned to look at you with a smile. “For now,” he said in a fake ominous tone. When you finally came to a stop, you were parked on an empty plane. With nothing but grass below you and nothing but stars above. You reached into your backseat to grab a few blankets you kept stored back there for the times you and Kid did this exact same thing. You slid out of the car with a giddy grin on your face, JJ following after you. You tossed the blankets on the ground but had no time to do anything else before JJ tackled you to the ground from behind. “What the hell?” You cried, trying to push him off of you but only succeeding in getting more tangled in the blankets. “I thought we were going to see who wins a fight?” JJ said, pinning you down and hovering over you. You glared at him. “Oh, it’s on.” You spent the next few minutes rolling around half in the blankets, half on the grass. The fight ended when you found yourself straddling JJ, your hands against his shoulders to keep him pinned. “I think,” you said, breathless. “I think I win.”

“I let you win.” “Oh, really?” “Yeah.” You breathed heavily through your nose and sat back, moving your hands from his shoulders so he could move if he wanted to. But he didn’t. “Can I tell you something?” JJ sat up on his elbows. “Go for it.”

“The reason I was so quick to think the worst about you when I saw you with that girl, I guess-” You paused to give yourself a moment to breathe. “I guess it was easier that way.” “How do you mean?” “Well, if I could convince myself you were just messing around with me I felt like I could still walk away without feeling hurt. I figured that I could just forget everything and move on and go back to living like I was before. I’m just...not used to caring about someone other than Kid and especially not so quickly,” you said. “So you care about me.” JJ smirked and made a face at you. You rolled your eyes, not even trying to keep down a smile. “Well, shit, Maybank,” you said, mimicking his smile. “What else am I supposed to do when you kiss me the way you do?” “Can I tell you something?” JJ asked. “Only if it’s appropriate.”

“I spent the first week after I was at your house trying not to think about you,” he said. Your heart started to pound, lost somewhere deep in your stomach. “Kinda failed at that one, didn’t I?” “Look at us, two people with emotional issues talking about our feelings.” You needed to say something to cover up the fact that your stomach was currently doing turns like some kind of freaking ballerina. “Aw, hell. The world’s going to end.”

JJ lay back, placing his hands on your hips and looking up at the stars. “Do you wanna know something?” He glanced at you instead of answering. “I don’t want to kiss anyone else. Just you” JJ worked his way to sitting up, sliding you into his lap. He moved one hand to your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone. “Purple,” he said. You tilted your head to the side and blinked. “My favorite color. You asked me to think about it and I decided my favorite color is purple.” You smiled, pulling your lower lip between your teeth to try and cover it up. “Purple is a wonderful color.” JJ pressed his lips against yours. Instead of the ocean, this time you felt the expanse of the sky above you. Maybe the universe hadn’t been trying to lead you away from JJ, but push you right toward him. The kiss was short, leaving you wanting, but it was obvious that JJ had something else that he wanted to say. “I don’t want to kiss anyone else either,” he said, his eyes still closed, almost as if he was afraid to say it to your face. This time you didn’t smile and instead pulled him in for another kiss. Nothing else mattered. You were sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean, but you could breathe perfectly fine. You were no longer drowning. You weren’t exactly sure when the kiss shifted from something like a contract to full of macking, but it did. Maybe it was when JJ moved his other hand to cradle your head or when you pulled his shirt off...somewhere in there. If you had still been in the car, the windows would have steamed up from how hot your breath was. When JJ dropped his lips to your neck, he moved his hands down as well, lifting his sweater just enough to get his hands against your stomach and back. His hands were calloused, rough, but it felt good against your skin. “JJ,” you breathed. You could tell that he appreciated being called by his first name from the way his hands curled against you, his teeth grazing your neck. “Do it again,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over your skin as he made his way back up to your lips. “JJ.”

You knew it was dangerous to push your limits like you were. The last two times this happened, you had gotten out of this before the anxiety took over completely. Last time JJ was aware of what he was doing, in control of how far he was going. But now, by where his hands were and by the way he clung to you, you weren’t sure he was thinking about that right now. And you weren’t sure you could stop yourself before you were overcome. At this moment in time, there was no fear, there was just JJ. You would have pushed and pushed and pushed until you were right on the brink. But you were already overboard, why not go deeper? Luckily, the universe was looking out for you. A deep thunderclap echoed across the sky, making you jump and a quiet shriek flew from your mouth. JJ laughed, just as out of breath as you were. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little lightning?” He asked. You glared at him. “I was preoccupied,” you said, putting your arms around his neck. Just before you kissed him again, the sky let out another burst of thunder. You sighed, closing your eyes. “I guess Mother Nature is cockblocking me,” JJ said. You dropped your forehead to his shoulder before rolling off of him. “I guess.” “We should get in your car before it starts to rain.”

“Man, I really wanted to look at the stars,” you sighed, starting to collect the blankets off of the ground. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten distracted.” “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so distracting.” He helped you move the blankets into the car. You barely had time to shut the front door before the rain started to pour. You pulled a mirror out of your purse and caught a glimpse of your neck, which was absolutely riddled with hickeys. “Dude,” you whispered, tracing one with your finger. You glanced over to JJ, who was hiding a smile behind one of his hands. He shrugged at you. You smacked his arm, revealing the laughter he was trying to keep in. “You’re lucky I carry concealer or I would be murdered in the morning.” “Hey, listen-” “What? What’s your excuse?” “You have very nice skin.” “My skin is nice so you have to give me a million and a half hickeys?” JJ shrugged again, laughter shaking through his body. “I’ll give you more if you want them.”

A bolt of lightning split open the sky. “I think Mother Nature said no to that one,” you said, peering out of the windshield at the sky above. “Whatever.” JJ leaned his chair back and put his hands behind his head. “Where to next?” “I can drop you off wherever before I head off.” You weren’t one hundred percent sure if JJ was staying with his dad or not and you didn’t want to be pushy. “You’re not going to tell me that you turn in at 12? The night is still young!” “If I’m not home, my dad will have my head on a platter,” you said, starting the car and beginning to pull out. “Live a little, remember?” “Yeah, well, if I live too much it’s my little brother who pays for it, remember?” “Right.” “So, where to?” “I’ve been staying with John B.” “Alrighty then. To John B’s.” When you pulled up to John B’s house, you weren’t surprised to see that the van was still gone. “Kiara, Pope, and John B must be having the time of their lives,” you said with a laugh. “I hope you don’t feel too excluded.” JJ laughed. “None of them are having as much fun as me,” JJ said. You rolled your eyes. The rain had begun to dwindle as you parked, so the two of you ran inside as quickly as you could. For a moment, you just looked around. This house was like nowhere you had ever been before. For the first time in a long time, the word home popped into your head. But, then again, you weren’t sure if it was the house or JJ’s arm that was hooked around your waist. “I’ve never been to a house on the cut,” you mused, running a hand over one of the cabinets, looking at all the wall hangings. “Well, it’s not much,” JJ said, grabbing a bruised apple off a shelf. He took a bite. “It’s….” You looked around again and finally shook your head. “Anyway, I should get going.”

As you turned toward the door, JJ gently grabbed onto your wrists. “Ellie-” “JJ.” “I want you to stay.” “I can’t. My dad-” “Just for once don’t think about you dad!” JJ walked past you, running his hands through his hair. “There’s so much more out there than him. You don’t have to be afraid of him.” “I’m not...I’m not afraid of my dad. I’m afraid for my brother. If I’m not there to take it, he deals it out to Kid. I can’t let that happen.” “So, you just act as your dad’s personal punching bag?” “Don’t you?” It was clear that you were both at an impasse. You weren’t sure if you had gone to far, so you carried on in hopes that there was a chance he would understand. “I know that you’ve only ever had to take care of yourself when it comes to your dad, so I don’t blame you for not understanding, but it’s...it’s different when there is someone else that depends on you. I mean, who am I to enjoy things like watching the stars or parties or hickeys when it’s my brother who has to pay for it?” JJ tightened his jaw, but nodded slowly. You stepped forward, taking his hands in yours. “Please, JJ, just-” You closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “Just give me some more time to figure everything out, alright? I want nothing more than to be able to stay with you tonight and just forget everything else, but I can’t. I just can’t.” You begged him with your eyes to understand. You didn’t want to finish this night the same way you had the last time you talked. Finally, JJ nodded, squeezing your hands. “I got you,” he said. “Thank you.” You started to take off the sweater he loaned to you but he shook his head. “It’s cold out there,” he said. “And you don’t know when it’ll rain.” You nodded, leaning up to give him a kiss on his cheek. Before you got back down from your toes, JJ grabbed your face for one last kiss. It may have been one last attempt to get you to stay, but you couldn’t. This was one whirlpool you couldn’t risk jumping into. You stepped back and left the room before he could say or do anything else. When you made it back to your car, you felt like crying. Leaving JJ alone in that house felt like leaving a puppy on the side of the road. It felt wrong and it made you sick, but you couldn’t leave Kid to the wrath of your father, so before the tears had the chance to fall, you reversed and started the journey back home.

#jj maybank #jj x reader #jj obx #jj x oc #john b obx #pope heyward #pope obx #kiara outer banks #kie #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #outer banks #obx #series

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bwbatta · 3 years

Text

two - persuasion

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship, right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: some swears but that’s all!

Word count: 2623

A/N: let’s go for part 2 then?! Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! Everyone who has asked to be on the taglist has been added and if you would like to be on the list, just send me a message! Dividers are by the super talented @firefly-graphics 🤩

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 3

The plan was set.

Draco and you had talked some more about what being ‘in a relationship’ entailed, whilst at the same time avidly avoiding Pansy in your free time. In fact, you were surprised with how little you’d have to change the dynamic between the two of you.

The first point was friendship, which was easy enough you thought. There’s no point in starting a fake relationship if you don’t get on well in the first place.

Second, communication. You agreed to be open and honest with each other, this whole plan wouldn’t work if you weren’t telling each other everything.

And finally third, intimacy.

This one was obvious enough and it was more than just hand holding or sharing the odd kiss or two, you knew that. It was about selling your relationship to be believable to everyone else around you, including your closest friends.

One of which was Hermione.

The plan on paper was simple, you both said you’d start off small and work your way into being a couple, so why did you feel this pit of anxiety in your stomach?

Nerves? Sure, you chalked it down to that.

So when you entered the Great Hall the next morning, late and in desperate need of caffeine, you somehow didn’t expect your ‘boyfriend’ to approach you with a steaming mug of coffee.

You completely missed the blonde boy too as you took your normal seat with a frantic expression on your face. Your roommates didn’t wake you up like they usually did so when you woke and found no one there, you almost screamed when you checked the time.

“Coffee coffee coffee” the mantra on your tongue “where the hell is the coffee?!”

Hermione looked amused as she packed up the book she was previously reading into her bag.

“Ron finished it moments ago, there’s no more”

“What?!” You blanched “there’s none?”

Hermione shook her head, the answer a definite no.

With energy lacking and spirit deflated, you grabbed a couple slices of toast and buttered them quickly, at least trying to put some food in your stomach even if it wasn’t your usual caffeine shot.

However when Hermione froze slightly, eyes narrowly following something behind you with a glare, you frowned at her confused. That was until Draco perched on the seat next to you, holding a mug of coffee between his hands.

“Granger” he greeted in a civil manner causing the witch to freeze in shock, half expecting an offhand snide comment about her blood status. He then turned to you and offered the coffee, “thought you might need this”

“But I thought there was none left!”

“I saved you it”

“You saved me a coffee?”

“Kept it warm too”

You could’ve cried when you took the mug from him and immediately the drink warmed your hands. Eagerly taking a sip, you found the coffee itself was exactly to your liking.

You went to point it out but before a word could leave your lips, Draco rolled his eyes at you with a smile.

“What? You thought I didn’t know how you took your coffee?”

The question was rhetorical, not that you cared. Exhaustion was the only thing you felt that morning up until then, quickly being replaced with utter fondness for the Malfoy boy next to you.

“Thank you” you told him as he grinned back at you

“Don’t mention it”

Draco raised his hand and swiped away a lock of hair which had fallen out of your two second attempt to pin it back this morning in your rush.

Your breath hitched slightly as his eyes found yours and he leaned in towards your ear.

“How am I doing?”

Your brain stalled.

Right.

Of course.

He was acting like he cared about you in front of Hermione.

To convince Hermione.

Who of course, confirmed with a quick glance, was looking between the two of you with suspicion in her eyes.

Quickly painting a smile across your face like he’d said something sweet, you pulled back and shot him a dazzling smile.

“Alright, I guess” you said, vague enough so Hermione wouldn’t clock onto what he really said.

“Good” he grinned back at you before standing from the seat. “I’ll see you after class later, yeah?”

You nodded at him, and with a fond smile at you and a courteous nod to Hermione, he left the two of you be, heading to his first class.

With the thought in the back of your mind that you should probably also get to class, you were stopped by a substantially confused Hermione who looked at you like you’d grown another head.

“Was I just in some parallel universe?”

“What?”

“‘What?’ Seriously, that’s how you’re going to answer that question?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you shrugged your shoulders before standing and picking up your bag and the mug of coffee from Draco.

“What aren’t you telling me?” The Granger girl continued to interrogate you as she too stood, though with a lot more vigor.

“There’s a lot of things I’m not telling you Hermione, but if it’s anything to do with Draco, I don’t know what you mean”

Striding out the Great Hall, she quickly followed you, pestering for more information which you avoided expertly until you got to your first class you shared.

“Why did Malfoy get you coffee?”

“Because it was a nice thing to do”

“Why was he civil with me?”

“Maybe he’s seen the light”

“(Y/N)! Tell me! I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight otherwise and you know it!”

With a sigh you turned to face her.

Putting on a performance like it was tough for you to keep a secret, you ‘umm’d and ‘ahh’d under her questioning until you really had had enough of the interrogation.

“Okay, fine, we may or may not be dating” you said like it wasn’t a big deal

“What?!”

“Miss Granger!” Professor McGonagall’s voice snapped “if you’re so done with your conversation, perhaps you could start writing your essay?”

“Yes, Professor. Sorry, Professor”

With a glare shot your way, meaning she’d grill you later for information, the bookworm turned back to her work and started writing furiously.

It was later that day that you found out that Lavender Brown had overheard your conversation with Hermione and so naturally, the gossip that you and Draco were dating was spread across the entire school.

Some believed the rumour, others didn’t so much. This of course included Blaise, the Weasley twins, and of course, the ever stubborn Pansy.

When the boys finally cornered each respective friend, they of course had some questions that needed to be addressed.

Blaise cornered Draco first at Lunch.

The Malfoy boy had just started to tuck into his food when a book slammed down on the table next to him, startling the boy.

Blaise pinned him with a hard look.

“Is it true you’re dating (Y/N)?”

“How’d you hear that?!”

“Word gets around fast... so, is it true?”

“Yes it’s true” Draco rolled his eyes at his friend

He was honestly shocked at how quickly the rumour had gone round the castle, though he suspected some of the Gryffindor girls were behind it. They always seemed like they pounced on any gossip going.

This also meant, Pansy had probably heard it by now.

Draco’s interest peaked.

“Who’d you hear it from?” The blonde asked his friend

“Bulstrode of all people” Blaise rolled his eyes “thought I might’ve found out from my friend himself but apparently not”

“Sorry man, it only really happened yesterday”

Blaise waved his apology off

“So tell me, is this for real? It’s not a prank or anything, she knows you think you’re going out with her right?”

“Yes, (Y/N) knows we’re going out” Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation “she’s also not being forced or blackmailed into going out with me if that puts your mind at rest”

This wasn’t technically true and Draco fought the urge to cringe slightly as he remembered the deal he had made with you.

Despite the other copious Christmas presents he had to get you, being civil to Granger wasn’t so bad he remarked. They only shared a few classes, all of which were with you present, so all he really had to do was ignore the fact the muggleborn witch existed and he’d keep his side of the deal up.

“Good” Blaise huffed, finally sitting down next to him “can I ask you something though?”

“You just did”

“Smart arse” Blaise rolled his eyes but continued on “what made you ask her out?”

Draco paused.

You hadn’t actually discussed this so there wasn’t a definite plan on what response to give. The boy trusted himself to come up with a decent answer though so instead of panicking, he said the first thing that popped into his head.

“I’ve been in love with her for years”

Well... he didn’t expect that to be his response.

“You have?” Blaise asked also taken aback

“Umm, yeah, sure, she’s the one for me you know?”

Draco kicked himself once again

Why couldn’t he think straight?!

“She’s just... she’s so funny, you know? One of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Her laugh, man, is enough to make me laugh even harder because have you heard it?! It’s hilarious!”

Unconsciously, Draco began to smile at the thought of you.

“Also, she’s super talented at anything she does, which would be wildly annoying if she wasn’t so modest about it. She’s also the most sarcastic person I’ve ever met, yet also the kindest. She’s got so many good qualities it’s hard to even think about anything bad about her.”

Draco stopped, breaking out of his train of thought.

Now that... that, he really hasn’t expect to be his response.

“I’m glad you’re happy then, Draco” the Zabini boy smiled at him “seems like you really like her”

“Yeah... I do”

You were pounced upon by both the Weasley twins not much later on, both demanding answers.

“You’re dating Malfoy?!”

“As in Draco Malfoy? The ferret?”

“He’s not a ferret!” You rolled your eyes at the pair. “And yes I am. Why? Do you not believe the castle gossip?”

“We heard it-“ Fred began

“Still working on believing it” George finished

You rolled your eyes and continued on to the library, your original destination before you got jumped by the identical redheads.

“Believe what you want” you shrugged trying to play it off.

“See (Y/N), here’s the thing, I don’t know if I believe you’re actually going out with him” Fred stated causing you to frown.

“What do you mean?”

“Freddie here believes you guys are faking it for some reason” George chucked an arm round your shoulders as they continued to walk with you.

“Why would we be faking it?!” You laughed like the idea was ridiculous.

“I just know you wouldn’t go for him” Fred shrugged “your standards are too high.”

“My standards are too high?!”

You were mildly offended at the suggestion, no matter how correct Fred was about the two of you faking your relationship.

Reaching the library quickly, you turned to the boys who had halted at the sight of the only room in the castle they adamantly wouldn’t enter.

“Well, unless your plan is to follow me into the forbidden room of books, I’ll see you guys later?”

Not waiting for an answer you swung open the door, mind now focused on studying for that test you had coming up in Herbology later that week.

“I still don’t believe you!” Fred shouted after you before the door closed shut behind you

All you could do was roll your eyes.

It was dinner later that evening when you saw your ‘boyfriend’ again since breakfast when he’d given you the coffee.

By now, you two were the talk of the castle which is why you weren’t surprised to see a fuming brunette strut up to you. The Slytherin girl looked as if she should have smoke coming out her ears you thought, not that you’d tell her that and anger her even more.

“(Y/N)” Pansy sniffed almost impatiently as she reached you.

“Pansy” you replied innocently which seen fo infuriate her more.

“I heard you’re supposedly dating my boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t help but phrase the question like you really didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Draco!”

“...Draco?”

“Draco Malfoy!” She practically growled at you

“Ohh, Draco as in my boyfriend?”

“Yes! Wait no-“

You snorted at her slip up and ignored her as you sidestepped and entered the Great Hall spying the familiar mop of platinum blonde hair, sending him a smile,

Before you could make your way over to him though, a hand grabbed your arm with nails roughly digging into your skin.

“Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you” Pansy seethed

“Well I was done talking to you” you shrugged truely bored with the girl “I’d appreciate it now though if you let go of my arm.”

“No, I’m not finishe-“

“Yes you are” Draco cut her off this time

Pansy’s expression looked like her brain had short circuited for a moment before she gathered herself and smiled flirtily at the boy.

“Hey Drakey baby”

“Firstly, for the millionth time, don’t call me that” Draco narrowed his eyes at her into a glare. “Secondly, (Y/N) also asked you to let go of her arm so I suggest you do so.”

At once, like your arm was on fire, Pansy dropped her grip which she had forgotten about as soon as the Malfoy had entered the conversation.

You rubbed your arm as you pulled it to your chest. Pansy’s nails had dug deep and actually split the skin on your arm slightly by the force she had held you by.

“And finally, I’d appreciate it if you’d fuck off and didn’t harass my girlfriend, especially about lies that we’re somehow involved.”

With that being said, Draco wrapped his arm around your waist and escorted you over to the spot he was originally sitting at, letting you take his seat while he forced Crabbe to move down a space so he could sit next to you.

“Thanks for that” you sent him a smile “though I can handle Pansy”

“I know” he replied with a grin of his own “I just needed to get that off my chest. Let me see your arm.”

“It’s nothing-“

“(Y/N)”

With a sigh you reluctantly held out your arm so he could see the damage Pansy had done. Spotting the crescent shaped breaks in your skin, his jaw clenched in anger.

“Psychotic bitch” he mumbled under his breath barely loud enough for you to hear, “episkey”.

The wounds sewed themselves back together in no time and you send him a grateful smile.

“Heard you got cornered by Blaise earlier”.

“Heard the same about you with the Weasley twins”.

“Mmm” you shrugged “there was bound to be a few that didn’t just automatically believe we’re dating. Some might need a little more persuasion, especially Pansy. Also it is still only the first day since the gossip broke though, it might just be that we wait for the news to settle.”

“I guess” he rolled his eyes playing with the pasta on his plate with his fork, before pausing slightly, setting it down and turning to you.

His eyes glanced round the hall quickly before snapping back to you with a grin. Leaning towards you, he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you slightly closer to him as his lips became level with your ear.

You fought the urge to shiver.

“Or... it just means we’ll have to make it all the more believable, Sweetheart.”

Series Taglist:

(If you’re in bold, tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you ☹️, otherwise if you want to be added, let me know! 🤩):

@weasleytwinswheezes @azkabanlexi @streetfighterrichie @queen-of-the-coven @gdee703 @thatguppienamedbae @crumpets-are-better-with-jam @savcks @remmyswritings @thescarletknight2014 @w0nderr @heyiheardyouwereawildone36 @moonlightorbit @ceeellewrites @nicole-prz @depressedchilipepper @swiftlymoniquesblog

#draco malfoy series #dating draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry potter #harry potter series #draco x y/n #draco imagine

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karliesbuzzcut · 3 years

Text

(100) Million Dollar Lawsuit

Intro | part1 | part2 | part3 | part4

We are on the last chapter (for now) and this the most chaotic one. Mainly because it doesn’t follow any kind of chronological order (or logical sense), it’s just Russ going in circles for literal years.

But I’ll try my best to condense it for you, so all you need to do is to keep your seat belt fastened until the aircraft stops completely.

Right after the failed Ari lawsuit, Russ goes back to his one and only love: Taylor Swift 💫 And he has learned a lesson — not a good lesson, mind you, but a lesson: small claims courts won’t take him anywhere. If he really wants to punish women for not complimenting his suit, he will have to file a multi-million dollar federal lawsuit.

But, since denying sex from The Russell isn’t illegal (yet), he had to come at it from a different angle. I’m going to give Russ a chance to explain himself first.

Before you ask: yes, the following was Russell’s response to a woman thanking Taylor for visiting an 8 year-old girl who was very badly burned in an accident.

As I’ve always said, it’s okay if you aren’t fluent in Bullshit. That’s what I’m here for.

You see, Russell views human interactions as a series of transactions: I make a tweet worth liking, you go on a date with me; I take you to Olive Garden, you give me a handie for free; I put on a suit, you hug me and smile; I write you a song and sue you, you produce said song. Whenever women don’t fulfil their side of the deal, he becomes enraged.

But the reason he has such a strong hate-boner for Tay, is because she seemed to also follow his same ‘moral code’. A kid makes a cute video, she visits them at the hospital. A fan writes her a letter inviting her to their wedding, she goes to the wedding. A couple of kids fold 1989 paper cranes for Andrea, Taylor invites them to one of her concerts.

Russ thought “this is a done deal”. He didn’t write that song for Taylor because he particular liked her; he just thought she’d be the most likely artist to produce it — or at least acknowledge his existence.

I mentioned before that Russ wrote a whole-ass book about this. And I think it’s as good a time as any to talk about it. For a short amount of time, Russell chilled out about the ✨100 million dollar lawsuit ✨ but my guess is that he thought his book would get him the same results as a lawsuit? To be fair, the book is fantastic. 5/5, would recommend.

He details the harassment he went through after suing Taylor Swift (the first time). Apparently old ladies at coffee shops would scream at him because he dared to sue Our Queen. A Mexican even pointed a gun at him (it wasn’t me, guys! Just a fellow countryman ❤️) and ordered Russ to drop the lawsuit. Computers at his job caught on literal fire because he was sent very powerful viruses. His friend Ken — who definitely exists! — was hit with a Molotov cocktail. Yep. 2016 was definitely the year people were willing to murder for Taylor Swift.

There’s also this brilliant dream sequence that involves an owl with the voice of Morgan Freeman, and Taylor’s agents guarding a tower in which she’s being held captive.

ALSO ALSO: an entire chapter is called “SHE CHOSE HIM OVER ME”. Taylor Swift chose Joe Alwyn — a man she actually knows — over a man she’s not even aware exists. Women, amiright?

I think Russell would enjoy the Kaylor community to a certain extent. Not the lesbian part, obviously: he doesn’t trust women who don’t want to touch his peen. I just mean the baseless hatred of Joe. Look, I made a little collage of his rants ❤️ tell me if any of this sounds familiar!

You know — I’ve been joking around a lot about Russell just wanting to do the nasty with Taylor. But you know me, I like joking around. In reality Russ only wants what is fair. He wants to put a stop to all these senseless acts of kindness perpetrated by Taylor ‘The Generous’ Swift.

This isn’t about him at all, actually. Shame on you for thinking there’s an ounce of greed in that selfless little body of his. HE’S DOING THIS TO PROTECT THE KIDS WITH CANCER!

There are no ulterior motives here! This isn’t about a date!

THIS IS NOT ABOUT A DATE AT ALL GUYS STOP SAYING THAT.

I think this is my favourite post of his, because– grammatically speaking –he doesn’t specify which of them is wearing the red dress. And that sends me every goddamn time.

Anyway. The book, as magnificent as it was, got him absolutely nowhere. I know, I can’t believe it either. So he went back to focus on his lawsuit. But apparently not enough, because he didn’t serve her properly..? Now, don’t expect me to understand this, because I am very stupid (so it’s quite a good thing that I haven’t sued anybody for millions of dollars) but something about him sending the lawsuit to her old legal team..? And then trying to force UPS to serve her? I think he even said he was going to serve her in the middle of one of her concerts... but I’m guessing that didn’t go as planned 🤷‍♀️ oops.

Of course, Russie wouldn’t allow such an anticlimactic ending. Can you guess what he did? Please tell me that you can guess what he did. HE MADE ANOTHER SONG 😭❤️

This one is called ‘I Don’t Get You, Taylor Swift’. Another masterpiece that we definitely didn’t deserve 🙌

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This was around April, 2019. By then I was being lured away by Kaylors, so I broke it off with Russ. I know that he filed a 3rd lawsuit against Taylor last year, which is just like the second one but hopefully this time he’ll be able to serve. And listen— I know that sounds like an awful thing to wish on Taylor, but I’d rather have Russell occupied suing a rich woman (who isn’t even going to deal with him), than a poor sex worker in Nevada. I bet TayTay would prefer that too.

Well guys, I’ve mentioned this a few times already, but I really had to be selective with the amount of information I was going to throw at you. I’ve avoided some of the shittier stuff he said or did, because I wanted to keep these posts as lighthearted as possible. I also didn’t touch on many things because they would just derail us. Like for example: one of the few lawsuits he has filed against someone who isn’t a woman, was against the state of Utah. I know, right? He’s trying to singlehandedly legalise prostitution in Utah, and even wrote a book (more like a pamphlet) brilliantly titled ‘Why I'm Making It Legal for Your 18 Year Old Daughter to Get In Bed with a Complete Stranger for Only 500 Bucks: A Short Essay from a Pro Se Litigant who is Challenging the Utah Brothel Bans’.

I copy-pasted that title guys, I swear to god.

The book is very graphic. This one I certainly do not recommend as I still suffer nightmares because of it.

Soren is a character who also had to be cut out — which is a shame because he really tried to be a good christian and help Russell. Not as in “I support you, Russell” but as in “why don’t you take a nap, Russell”. Turns out, even cinnamon rolls have a limit. Russ, of course, blames Taylor Swift for the fact that he’s losing his friends. I’m not joking — it’s an article in his lawsuit:

Greer has lost family relationships, friend connections and business connections because of the trauma of Taylor Swift. His family tells him to "get over it," resulting in shouting matches and strained relationships. Greer's friends get annoyed by his focusing on the trauma of it, when nobody knows the pain of getting rejected by a public figure — twice — and the fallout that has resulted from it.

Russell embodies that comic/meme of the little guy who puts a stick in his bicycle’s wheels and then blames Taylor Swift when he inevitably falls.

Sooooo...

Maybe someday I’ll write a post about Russ’ latest antics. I know he still posts stupid stuff on Facebook, which he later deletes. He shined especially bright at the peak of the BLM movement. He also plead guilty to electronic communications harassment— did you see that conviction coming? Yes, yes you did 😌

Regarding Taylor, I read that Russ knew someone who knew Todrick Hall — and Russ sent him a song and video for Taylor. All he got back was a Cease and Desist letter. But I’d have to do a bit of digging to get the details. I was already so overwhelmed with organising the information I was previously aware of, that I decided to leave the newer stuff for another time. You know, once I’ve had some time to inform myself... as well as a really long shower.

Since I left so much shit out, I’ll be taking questions if you have any. And if you can muster the courage to ask them. I’m weirdly proud of being some kind of Russell encyclopaedia. I might not have much going for me...

There’s no ‘but’ — that was the complete statement.

Before I go, I wanted to add this screenshot. I absolutely love it because it summarises ✨The Russell Experience✨. Russ wants Taylor to know pain, poverty and punishment. But when asked “why?” his answer is just “oh, I was ignored lol”

*none of the screenshots are mine

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thou-crusty-batch-of-nature · 4 years

Text

The rise and fall of our love

part one | part two

playlist: gold by nick murphy and chet faker

too young to burn by sonny and the sunsets

cold cold cold by cage the elephant

pairing: reader x james, lily x james

warnings: language, fluff, a bit of angst

A/N: hope you like my first proper series! i've been working on this for a while and i'm so excited to finally post it! feedback is very much appreciated so lmk what you think

also, credits to @approved-by-dentists for the iconic line "I'll drop kick your firstborn", you can check her frog memes here

and credits to the harry potter wiki fandom, I took those amortentia info from there

p.s. the cover is made by me

word count: roughly 2.4K

MASTERLIST

"You can't expect me to believe this!" James was looking at you with his mouth agape and exaggerated wide eyes which made the conversation slightly more embarrassing than it already was.

"5 minutes till midnight!" Sirius announced from a table with several bottles of champagne by his side.

"Well, you should. I'm telling the truth!"

"Y/N!" he shouted in a serious note, as if he was trying to decide whether you were lying or not. Your ears were burning. Someone hex me right now.

"James!" you answered - this was like a bad version of the Marco Polo game.

Something in your eyes convinced him of your honesty. "You have never been kissed on New Year's Eve!" he gasped with such amazement that you didn't have the heart to reveal that, in fact, you have never been kissed by anyone on any other occasion - you still needed that remaining bit of dignity. Well, not a real kiss, that is. The only time you have ever kissed someone was on a game of spin the bottle in 3rd year, when you and Remus shared a very awkward one-second kiss, that James never forgot to bring up every other day.

"Why is it such a big deal - I don't need a kiss to have a lucky year! I can manage fairly well on my own, thank you very much!"

The whole Gryffindor Common Room was buzzing with chatter, clinking glasses and loud music. New Year's Eve meant a great deal to gryffindors, whether it was for the booze, the games or the chance to kiss your crush at midnight.

You could proudly say that your presence was owed to none of the above, but rather to the persistent demands of your best friend, Marlene. Not that you didn't love a good party - it's the opposite, really. The only problem was your low intolerance to alcohol; three big gulps of beer were enough to make you the talk of the school for at least two weeks. And with Marlene and the marauders by your side, the chances of that to happen were outstandingly high.

"It's a matter of principle, it's about the neediness of human nature, about their need for closure and contact in order to feel full and satisfied! It's about the idea of knowing that you have emotional support!" he declared passionately with a hand over his chest.

"So, people are horny and they need to kiss other people for them to feel valid and worthy?" You scrunched up your nose in disgust. "That's messed up!"

"It's love, Y/N! It's not supposed to make sense, it's like magic!"

"You sound like a cringy girl from a romantic muggle movie!" You snorted.

"You're incredible!" James sighed, disappointed. "Alright, I'll show you, you'll see!" Soon enough, a gigantic clock appeared over the fireplace starting the New Year's countdown.

"9…" People were chanting joyfully.

"8…" You could feel James' stare, but you kept your eyes glued to the clock.

"7...6…5…" You sensed him inch closer.

"4…" He spun you around and cupped your cheek.

"3…" You were lost in his eyes. They were an infusion of spring and autumn, a melt of fiery leaves and honey.

"2… 1!" His soft lips met yours, and you could hear fireworks erupting outside the castle. You felt your soul implode. The kiss was shy, yet passionate. His hands were slowly grazing your back while yours found their way to his dark curls. It felt right - perfect, even.

Even though it was your first kiss, you knew it was the best you'd ever have. Everything was easier when you were with James, everything felt at peace. You pulled apart when you ran out of breath, still longing for more. Your whole face was on fire, and you let your forehead rest on his.

"Here you go. Wasn't that bad, was it?"

"Eh- t'was alright." you joked, trying to sound cool. You laughed nervously, though you were pretty sure it sounded more like a squeal. Great.

"Do you think Lily saw it?" Something in his voice made you realise that he wished she did. You were just a puppet in his cruel play. Your heart wrenched a little, but you managed to hide your pain.

"Don't know. I haven't seen her tonight." You were his friend. That's all. The kiss meant nothing for him, and that was okay.

Just great.

"I think imma go check on Marls." you said, trying to hold your tears back. "Thank you, for the kiss." you exclaimed sarcastically, though James didn't seem to notice. He nodded absentmindedly, his eyes already on a certain red-head.

Oh, you were so stupid! How could you let this happen? A wave of nausea washed over you while the knot in your stomach kept pulling at your insides.

You made your way through the sea of people, right where you knew Marlene would be. There she was: lounging on the couch next to Sirius, drinks in hands, talking about Merlin knows what. You suddenly felt very bad to disturb your best friends who were both clearly having a great time, so you quickly turned the other way.

"Y/N!" Marlene shouted. Shit. You quickened your pace, only to hear her shouts over the music. "Y/N Y/L/N stay where you are or I swear I'll knock you down!"

You continued to walk but stopped when you saw James and Lily a few steps ahead. She was laughing while he was whispering something in her ear. Lily spotted you and smiled teasingly. You took a deep breath. Defeated, you turned and saw Marlene's tall figure facing you. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

You haven't realised that until she asked you. Good thing that James was too busy fawning over Lily to notice.

Marlene didn't wait for an answer to take your hand in hers and lead you back to your dorm. She pulled you in her arms while you finally let your tears fall. You felt pathetic; how could you believe he would actually like you the way you did?

You told her everything apart from that unbecoming smile Lily gave you. They were also friends, not as good as you two were, but you didn't want to stir up any arguments.

You and Marlene have been best friends for over six years. You used to be quite an introvert, whereas Marlene was cocky enough for the two of you, so she made it her goal to get you out of your shell. And she succeeded - even too well, some would say.

And as for you and Lily, things were - you guessed you could call them decent. Neither of you made any effort to be besties, as Lily made it quite clear she didn't like you. However, you managed to become acquaintances for the sake of your friends'.

"Y/N! What is our number one rule?" she asked when you finished.

You sighed. "Bros over hoes."

"I will never put a boy over our friendship, Y/N. You come first. Especially when you have a problem."

"Okay, mother." you rolled your eyes. "I should've drank the damned firewhisky. It would have been a far better alternative to get shitface drunk than deal with all this."

"You're right." You glared at her. "What? You really are. That just proves my theory further: technically, alcohol is a solution."

×××

Naturally, the odds haven't been in your favour, and Lily and James were closer than ever. You would be lying if you said you were happy for them.

"Now, Y/N/N, that's just cruel!" Marlene said with her mouth full, spitting half of her breakfast on you. Then, she silently handed you a napkin. You gave her a nod of thanks. "I mean, I get it, you are a tad bit jealous, but that's understandable!"

"Am not!" you defended. "I'm happy for my friend for finding his love." You choked that word out. "Okay, I might be a tiny tiny bit jealous but that's not the case right now! I just don't understand his choice!"

"Ah… here goes that 'he could've had all this but he chose that' speech..." Marlene sighed.

"Yes- I mean no! That's not what I mean! I just don't like Lily!"

"I know…" she said regretfully. "She is a good friend to me, really - she's not that bad. I know you two had your problems, but… Wait, what are your problems exactly?" she squinted her eyes in confusion. "You've never told me the real reason you two don't get along."

"Well…"

"Good morning darlings!" Sirius interrupted, plopping down next to Marlene.

"Good morning to you too!" James chirped with a sheepish smile plastered on his face. He sat next to you, hugged you and you could swear you heard him squeal.

"Well, someone seems to be in an awfully good mood this early in the morning. Waddup?" you ask, popping the 'p'.

"Someone got back to the dorm very late last night after having spent the entire day with -"

"LILY-FLOWER! HERE!" James got up and waved frantically towards her. She furrowed her brows when she spotted him next to you and you quickly averted your gaze.

"Hello there!" she smiled, sitting down on the other empty spot next to James. She took his hand in hers and glanced at you. You rolled your eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" Lily asked innocently.

"Nah, everything's alright." Just my back hurts a little... from all the stabs. The intensities of your stares could burn holes through each other's bodies.

"Y/N, have you finished your DADA essay? I think it was due Wednesday and I haven't written a word!" Remus cuts in, sensing the tension. You made a mental note to thank him later.

×××

"So what was all that about?" You were in the library "helping" Remus write his essay - in reality, you were munching on his chocolate while he was reading.

"What?" You decided to play dumb, hoping he would drop the subject. Remus leaned in his chair and rubbed his eyes. It was too early for any of this.

"Your 'friendship' with Lily." he air quoted.

"There's nothing wrong with us…"

"Oh, then let me call her here and make friendship bracelets together!" he mocked. "You almost hugged to death out there!"

"Quiet!" you heard madam Pince's high screech.

You let your head fall in your hands. "Is it so obvious?" you whispered. He gave you the are-you-kidding-me face and you groaned.

"Fine! The truth is that I don't know why she hates me! I've tried to be her friend for so many years, ever since she became Marl's friend - and she rejected me every single time. Not to mention that she has never been the nicest to me. And now she acts like I drop-kicked her firstborn and I'm sick of it."

"So nothing happened?"

"Nothing that I know of…"

"Huh…" It was clear he expected somewhat of a greek tragedy. You glanced at the clock and cursed, you were running late to class. "Remus, we gotta leave."

You both got up in a hurry, stuffing parchments and quills in your bags. "Potions?"

You checked the time again. "In five minutes."

"Shit."

You sprinted down the halls of Hogwarts, going on every shortcut you knew. You reached the classroom faster than ever - seriously, you must’ve broken a record.

"What time is it?" Remus asked, a bit out of breath.

"10:04" you managed to say.

Remus knocked on the door while you struggled to keep an upright position - you had to admit that you were a bit out of shape.

"Ah, Remus and Y/N, I was beginning to worry! Everybody is late today! Do you happen to know about Potter and Lily's whereabouts?"

"No, sir."

"Probably in a broom closet." Sirius said between coughs. Slughorn decided not to hear this remark.

"Very well, then find your seats and get your books out." You hurried towards the empty desk behind Sirius and a now-seated Remus. Where was he?

"Now, as I was saying. I prepared some concoctions this morning which you can find on your desks. Any ideas what these might be?"

"It's Armortentia!" someone from the front exclaimed.

"Excellent! Now, this is the most powerful love potion in existence. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession from the drinker. Despite its power, Amortentia doesn't create actual love; it's impossible to manufacture or imitate love."

You were already growing tired. "Miss Y/L/N, you seem awfully relaxed. Care to reveal what scent do you smell?"

Your head shot up from the desk, trying to remember the question. You were ready to ask the professor to repeat it when you saw Sirius pointing to his nose and then to the potion.

Thanks, you mouthed and Sirius winked.

"I smell…" you started, closing your eyes and sniffing the liquid.

"I smell gingerbread, old books and…"...James. You quickly opened your eyes as the realisation dawned onto you. "... musky cologne."

"Wonderful, miss Y/L/N! Now, in the hour that remains you and your desk mates will have to brew an acceptable vial of Amortentia, helped by the example before you and of course, your books. So, open the books at -"

A loud knock interrupted Professor Slughorn. He turned his head just as James and Lily barged into the room all giggly and blushy.

"Excuse us, professor! We had some urgent Prefect duties!" Yeah, right.

"You are a tad late, I'm afraid. Oh well, you may come in, I've just finished the instructions for today's lesson. Potter, there's an empty seat next to Y/N; Lily, you can take a seat next to Miss Macdonald."

"Hello, roomie!" James whispered when he sat down, wiggling his eyebrows. "What are we brewing today?" he asked. Why did he always have that stupid smirk on his face?

"That!" you pointed towards the tiny cauldron in front of you.

"Hmm - let me see." he leaned forward to look at it, then scrunched up his nose when he tried to smell it.

"Bloody hell, Y/N! Do you bathe in your perfume? And what is with this smell - lilies? Are lilies here? Well, besides the most beautiful one over there?" he nodded towards Evans.

You couldn't help but blush and look away. You were sure you didn't put any perfume on this morning, so that meant…?

"We are brewing Amortentia, you barmy wanker!" you heard Sirius' wheezy voice, who was trying and failing to hold his laughter.

"Oh" James said, rubbing his neck. "Shit."

Shitty indeed.

You were in deep.

****

part two

taglist: @futurewriter2000, @puppycat714, @booksbeforebois, @slytherinquill, @screennamealreadyused, @fific7, @with1love1anu

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rosebloodcat · 3 years

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A Harry Potter Confession/Rant

Ya’ll are free to ignore it if you want. I’m putting it under a Read More so it won’t clog up the dashes of anyone who doesn’t care about it. If you DO click the Read More, be warned, this got really frigging long.

Firstly, I want to say I love Harry Potter. Like, I really love it and it means a lot to me.

It was an introduction to fantasy for a lot of people. It’s created amazing communities, connected people around the world, and spread a ton of wonderful, uplifting messages.

The kind of power that comes from Love, that something as simple as caring can make huge difference for another person.

Harry Potter has gotten a lot of people to think critically about the world around them, and reminded them that things aren’t always as wonderful as they first appear.

It touches on things like racism and classism in a way that people can understand. It tackles things like morality and how it is different for every person who sees it. That doing what’s right wasn’t easy, and sometimes even the best intentions could make things worse instead of better.

The stories are amazing and suck people in. The foreshadowing is done well in each book and lends itself to the stories in subtle and fantastic ways.

No one had written a series like hers and took off as well as what she’d created. There had been other Magic School-type stories before, but she’d found the right channel to send it out. And now it’s something everyone can name and talk about.

For me, the great thing about Harry Potter was the doors it opened.

How modern fantasy for kids could be written. How a magical community could work in modern world (along with all the good and bad things that were in it). How something as amazing as magic could stay hidden for as long as it had (and the effects it had on everyone involved).

It’s community and the people mean so much to me, and it’s become a strong center to my own views and life.

But that doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to it’s flaws.

Looking at the way the world works, and the relationships of the people in it, gives a very clear view of Rowling’s flawed world view.

And people have written entire essays on all the flaws of her writing, so I don’t think I really need to go into tremendous detail about them all. But I think I can sum the basic idea of it pretty well.

Yes, she can write a great story. But that doesn’t mean she wrote a great world. (As all of her post-story retconning shows.)

Looking back, I openly admit many instances in the books had red flags that showed how bad things actually were.

From character relationships to the corrupted government, the racism and classism, the sexism and abusive undertones. Even just the shitty tracking of things between stories and blatant ignorance of how schools and societies should function!

There are so many flaws and screw ups I can hardly keep track of them all.

So many of the character relationships read as abusive or horribly fractured, that would leave more broken hearts and hurting feelings than should be let stand.

Ron/Hermione is one “couple” I can think of. They’re constantly fighting and at each other’s throats, and had only ever tried to get along due to being friends with Harry.

They’d be that couple who would always be fighting and breaking up with each other and separating, then forcing themselves back together because “This is how love it supposed to be, right? We always fight because we love each other. It’s why everyone said we were like an Old Married Couple. Right?”

(No, that’s not how it works. I know some people still ship them, but I feel like they’re better off friends than lovers. It’s less hurt for them both.)

Or Mrs Weasley, who ruled her house with an Iron Fist and would force her family to follow whatever plan she had set up for them.

From destroying the twins projects and trying to force them into a Ministry job, or her obsessive coddling of Ron and Ginny, or even forcing her husband to not talk about his hobbies/passions and making him need to work in the shed just to enjoy things he liked.

She drove of BOTH of her oldest sons away from home with her overbearing nature, yet so few people seem to see the problems with that.

Remus and Tonks getting together out of grief and just about falling apart when she got pregnant. I honestly don’t know if they were in love or were just together to deal with their grief. (Which would definitely cause problems later down the line if they’d lived.)

(And let’s not get into Harry and Ginny. I think that’s one pairing that everyone else has already beaten into the ground.)

The fact that all of these are the GOOD GUYS, the people that usually show some form of ideal the writer has, says a lot about how Rowling thinks love should be.

The Ministry is so blatantly corrupted and poorly planned, it’s a wonder the Wizarding World hadn’t just flat-out collapsed on itself yet.

Rowling goes out of her way to argue against everything she’s set up that would have made it possible to save the Wizarding World from it’s own corruption. From ways to get around the Truth Serum to blocking people from entering minds to find the truth.

She’s making thousands of excuses for why she didn’t use her own tools to make things easier for her character, but the actual reason is simple. So simple that if she just said it, she could have avoided all the problems people had with it.

She wanted a corrupt government for the story she was writing.

That’s it. That’s why there were no trials with Veritaserum. Why prisoners weren’t interrogated by people who could preform Legilimancy. Why no one had to swear magical oaths to prove they were telling the truth or weren’t on the Dark side.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but if she had just said that instead of making excuses, I would have been fine with that. Sometimes, as writers, we have to admit that the reason we didn’t do things that would have made it better for our heroes is because we needed things to go bad.

AND THAT’S OKAY. Not every story needs to have a million well thought out arguments for why the bad guys were able to get as far as they did. Sometimes we just need to say “they were really corrupt/clever” and that’s fine.

Rowling was really bloody lazy, had no idea how to do things practically, and had a ton of sexist/racist/toxic views that she really should have just kept her mouth shut about.

A ton of the issues in Harry Potter go back to this.

Her researching skills were terrible even when the things she needed to look up would have been as simple as looking at the weekly paper. (The price/value of gold is literally something you can look in the weekly news paper to find.)

She never looked at how culture differences would have effected things when she talked about “international” magics and said things that were just plain stupid because of her lack of research.

(The Mahoutoko School of Magic. ”Mahoutokoro” literally translates into “Magic School”, meaning the school is called “The Magic School, School of Magic.” I don’t think I need to explain why that’s stupid.)

She had no idea how to arrange a schooling/class schedule and was completely oblivious to how understaffed her magical school was. None of the class schedules made sense, none of the arrangements made sense, and even the number of students in the school makes no sense.

(Without getting into how many schools of magic there are in the world when you consider the size of the human population.)

Then, of course, there are the racist/anti-lgbtq+ stereotyping done through the magical beings of HP. From Goblins to werewolves, there’s a lot of poor, negative, and outright offensive representation wrapped up in there. (Really, her Anti-Trans stuff is just the tip of the iceberg there.)

That said, I still really love Harry Potter.

I know it’s flawed. I know there’s a ton of bad shit wrapped up in it. I’m not saying people should excuse it.

It’s a flawed work by a flawed person, and people should remember that.

We shouldn’t try to erase or ignore those flaws by trying to explain them away or claim someone else wrote it. Because that allows for complacency.

It implies that we can excuse these things in other works if we like them enough and that they aren’t problematic. If we can ignore them in one place, we can ignore them in other places. That they aren’t as bad if we can pretend they aren’t there.

And that is a problem. People need to accept that, just because they don’t like something, they can’t just disregard it and act like it isn’t there.

It’s real. It’s there. And we need to acknowledge it.

But just because the series isn’t perfect doesn’t mean people can’t still enjoy it.

We shouldn’t magnify the bad things in it until that’s all that can be seen. Because that would erase all the good things people have come away with from this series.

People shouldn’t be shamed or put down for liking Harry Potter.

There are people who’ve discovered importing things about themselves because of Harry Potter. People who found strength to get past difficult and traumatizing events in their lives. People who have found their best friends and even love because of their connection to this series.

There are even people who have found the confidence to embark on their own writing and artistic journeys because of Harry Potter. That it inspired numerous wonderful and amazing things created by it’s fans.

And I think that’s just as important as all the flaws that Rowling’s stories have.

We can still love something while admitting that there are bad parts to it. Books and media don’t have to be perfect. They don’t have to be utterly flawless to be considered “enjoyable”.

We don’t need to act like everything has to be black and white, perfectly defined good and evil, to be good. We can still love things while accepting that there are problems with it.

I just wish more people could understand that.

TLDR: Just because Harry Potter is a flawed, imperfect series written by a flawed, imperfect (and kinda shitty) person doesn’t mean people can’t still like it. And I really wish more people would accept that.

#rosie rants #rosie rambles #harry potter #world of harry potter #wizarding world #jk rowling #I just really needed to go off #a lot of the hp confessions I've been reading have been getting to me #so I needed to let this out

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