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#he and Lucille have a very pure friendship
toxic-ship-tournament · 10 months
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ROUND 4 / POLL 2
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Artekai x Fross ( @artekai ) vs Lucille x Jo ( @radioactive-dragonlover )
who makes up your ship?:
Artekai (he/him) and Fross (he/him)
why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:
What's NOT toxic about them? Fross is an immortal space billionaire, while Artekai (also Kai) is a mortal on Earth in the middle of a corruption arc. Fross has a victim complex, Kai has a hero complex. They enable the worst in each other, but they would hate each other if they actually took the time to get to know one another. They are in love because they are both somehow equally pretentious somehow, they are in love with the idea of being in love, they are just each other’s escapism. They met because Kai fatally stabbed Fross while he was trying to steal Earth's terraforming system (long story, they are Horizon OCs). But Kai quickly regretted it, because he realized that Fross was unarmed, and it was against his moral code to attack someone who was unarmed. And so, to avoid having that weighing on his conscience, he decided to take Fross and nurse him back to health. Yes, they both thought this was the most romantic thing ever. Kai considers this a casual fling like most of his romantic relationships, but Fross would do anything to make Kai his and only his forever. From lies, manipulation, and guilt tripping, to gaslighting, kidnapping, and isolating Kai from his loved ones, it's all on the table. He’s certainly not afraid to take advantage of the vulnerable state that Kai was in when he got into his relationship (he had just had a really bad friendship breakup, so he was horribly lonely and his ego had been shattered). When the truths that Fross had been hiding from Kai finally came out, Fross snapped and tried to kidnap him, planning to drag him to space with him and make him immortal as well so they could be together forever. It was then that Kai finally decided that he was done, and so he fatally stabbed Fross again in a fit of rage, coming full circle.
ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:
Ship tag: Frosskai Artekai playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7vmQQ3oJOqItfMCpMg2Ab1?si=e61bc643276d466b Fross playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/13dyyNtUismAc2LzjJdxSX?si=3b97080df1214b02 Frosskai playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5o5uIiOE2HEwhwT3US2KET?si=8cf3cdcd3ae74c1c
****
who makes up your ship?:
Lucille and Jo
why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:
Lucille is a rich woman who has nothing to do in her life, she's eternally bored and wishes for something new— something fresh to happen. Jo is a quiet woman with some repressed violent tendencies and who works minimum wage bug is struggling to make ends meets. One night, Jo decides to rob Lucille's mansion and kills her without meaning to in the process, escaping the scene anxiously thinking she's going to go to jail once the body is found. However, Lucille wakes up the next day, with the events of the murder burnt into her mind but her body spared of any wounds. Turns out getting killed is EXACTLY the spice in life she was waiting for! So she decided to track down and knock on her murder's door— not to rat her out, but to ask her to do it again. Jo wasn't really for murdering again, especially with how anxious she ended up getting in the aftermath, but begrudgingly accepts. And it seems that Lucille IS actually very fun to kill for her, too. Cue to Jo murdering Lucille on a Weekly basis, getting very Gay about it each time. Lucille get the thrill of death she wanted, and Jo gets an outlet for her violence. A relationship starting as purely transactional at first slowly turns into a murder romance. They're both kinda fucked up in isolation to one another but complete eachother awfully well. Like "you two are perfect for eachother but never pull anyone else into your bullshit" kinda deal. They keep eachother contained. You feel me.
ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:
Ship tag on my art blog ( nihonium-art ) : Undying love ( although fair warning for gore ) Playlist : https://spotify.link/TPbt2y12Syb
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Stanislas Fréron hitting on Lucile Desmoulins compilation
”I was very happy there, but one thing troubled me, Fréron. Every day I saw new developments and didn't know what to do about it. I consulted Maman, she approved of my plan to take it lightly and joke about it, which was the wisest course. What else could I do?  Forbid him to come? Camille and he had business together every day, we would meet. Telling him to be more cautious would be to admit that I knew everything and didn't disapprove; it would have required an explanation. I thought myself very prudent then to receive him with friendly reserve as usual and I see now that I was right. Soon he left on mission. I was very glad, I thought things would change. […] Fréron has returned. He appears to still be the same, but I don't care, let him go crazy if he wants.” Lucile in her diary December 12 1792
 ”I beg Madame Desmoulins to be pleased to accept the homage of my respect. I have the honour to inform her that my destination is changed, that I shall not go to the National Assembly because I am setting out for the country with MM Danton and Saturne. Will she have the goodness to present herself at the assembly, before ten o’clock, in the hall of deputations; that she is to send for M. La Source, the secretary, who will come to her, and she will find a place for her by means of the commissary of the tribunes. I renew the assurence of my respectful devotion to Madame Desmoulins.”  Fréron to Lucile January 7 1793
I beg the chaste Diana to accept the homage of a quarter of a deer killed in her domains. Adieu. Stanislas Lapin.  Fréron to Lucile January 21 1793. In her diary entry from the same day, Lucile simply remarks ”F sent us deer.”
Fréron came. He always seems to sigh but how bearish are these manners! Poor devil. What hope do you hold? Extinguish in your heart a senseless …r! (sic) What can I do for you? I pity you... No, no, my friend, my dear Camille. Never will this friendship, this love so pure, exist for anyone else but you, and those I see will only be dear to me through the friendship they have for you. Lucile in her diary January 22 1793
”You know since long that I love your wife madly, I write to her about it, it's the least consolation that can be produced for an unhappy rabbit, absent since eight months. […] Goodbye, think sometimes of the best of your friends both of you, answer me, as well as Rouleau.  Fréron to Camille October 18 1793
”The communications between the southern departments and Paris have been closed for more than three months. Since they’ve been re-established, I’ve wanted to write to you. A hundred times I’ve taken up my quill, and a hundred times it’s fallen from my hand. May this letter convince you, Lucile, that you have always been in my thoughts!  Let Camille murmur, let him say whatever he likes about it, he’ll just be acting like any proprietor; but surely he can’t insult you by thinking he’s the only one in the world who finds you loveable and has the right to tell you so.  He knows it, that wretch of Bouli-Boula, because he said in your presence "I love Rabbit because he loves Lucile.” This poor rabbit has had a great deal of adventures. […] He has often missed the thyme and the serpolet that your lovely hands enjoyed taking care of in your garden at Bourg de l’Égalité[…] Do you know what sustained him, what he always had before his eyes?  First, the patrie, then you. He did not and does not want anything but to be worthy of you two… You will find this romantic rabbit and he is not bad at it. He remembers your idylls, your willows, your gravestones and your bursts of laughter. He sees you trotting about your room, running across the floor, seated one moment at your piano, hours together in your armchair dreaming, letting your imagination wander; then he sees you making coffee, slaving away and swearing like a cat, showing your teeth. He enters your bedroom; he stealthily casts a longing eye on a certain blue bed, he watches you, he listens to you, and he keeps quiet.  Isn't that you! Isn't that me! When will these happy moments return? I don’t know, I’m here to hurry by any means the destruction of that execrable Toulon. I’m determined either to die on its ramparts or to scale them, torch in hand.  Death will be sweet and glorious, provided you can spare a tear for me. [...] I embrace you, devine Rouleau, more dear than all rouleax made of gold and crowns that one can offer me. I embrace you in hope, and I will only date my happiness from the day I next see you. Remember me to your dear maman and Citizen Duplessis. Will you answer me?  "Oh! no, Stanislas." […] Show my letter to Camille, because I don’t want to make a mystery of anything. Fréron to Lucile October 18 1793
”The day before yesterday I received, read, re-read, and devoured your letter, and the quill doesn’t fall from my hand in acknowledging receipt. How happy it made me!… More happiness than I dared to hope. Think then, of this poor rabbit who, exiled far from your heather, your cabbage, your thyme and my fathers house, is consumed by sorrow in seeing the most constant efforts for the glory and strengthening of the republic lost. […] Don’t come here, lovable and dear Lucile, it’s a frightful land, whatever they say, a barbaric land, when you have lived in Paris. I have no caverne to offer you, but a lot of cypress. It grows here naturally. Tell your glutton of a husband that the snipes and thrushes here are better than the habitants. if it weren't so far from here in Paris, I would send him some, but you will receive some olives and oil. […] Goodbye once more, mad-woman, a hundred times mad, beloved Rouleau, bouli-boula of my heart; here is a long letter but I gave myself over to the pleasure of chatting with you and took the night for it. Tell then your loup-loup to write to me, he’s a lazy one. When it comes to your reply to this letter, it will probably take a year to arrive. What does it matter to me? On the contrary. It’s clear as day. I remember these inintelligibles phrases, I remember this piano, these head tunes, and your melancholy, abruptly interupted by big bursts of laugther. Indefinable being!…Farewell. I embrace the whole warren and you, Lucile, with tenderness and all my soul. Fréron to Lucile December 11 1793
You haven't answered me, dearest Lucile, and my accuracy has stunned you so much that your astonishment still lasts. You had postponed my answer to eight months, you see if you are a good prophetess. […] Answer me then, lazy girl that you are, and ingrate which is worse. One breaks silence after a year, after centuries, and one gets by grace a few words written in distraction. Bouli-Boula, what does it mean to me? The rabbit is desolate; he thinks of you without end; he thought of you in the midst of bombs and bullets, and he would have gladly said like that old gallant: Ah!  if my lady saw me! […] Goodbye, Lucile, evil devil. Has your thyme been harvested? I can't wait, despite all my offenses, to beg the favor of nibbling it from your hand. […] You'll have neither olives nor oil if I don't get a response from you. You can tell me whatever you like but I love you and embrace you, right under the nose of your jealous Loup-loup. Goodbye once more. […] Goodbye again, loveliest of rouleux. My respects to your good and beautiful mother. Fréron to Lucile January 5 1794
Feel free to tell me if there’s any translator fails in here, it’s sometimes pretty hard for me to make out what that creep actually means.
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blindingdutchy · 3 years
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devilish | t.holland
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{koh!tom x fem!reader}
summary: costume parties are usually reserved for halloween, but when your friend throws one for his birthday party in july, you go all in. how the hell does that guy Tom get his wings to look so real, though?
word count: 11,715
warnings: 100% pure, filthy smut with some plot. that's about it. alcohol. language. one brief mention of death + crime at the end (non-character death). REPOSTING BECAUSE I'M AN IDIOT AND DELETED IT!!! some minor edits + a bit more at the end (originally 11.4k)
18+!!!! MINORS STAY AWAY.
warnings:mean!dom!tom, spanking, biting, choking, fingering, oral (m+f receiving), some light ass play (oral + fingering), one instance of spit play, degradation, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks)
You never really paid all that much attention to any of the guests who visited the diner. An old 1950s style restaurant, complete with cracked leather booths and a rickety old jukebox, the place was far from popular. Most who entered were of the older generations, those who'd been coming to that same diner since they were young and now visited to gain a sense of nostalgia for what once was.
In other words, most of your patrons were geriatric cheapskates who grumbled nonsensically about how in their day a soda-pop only cost a nickel. Sorry to inform, Reginald, but that soda-pop is not still only worth a nickel and, no, you cannot give it to him for that price. Unfortunately, Margaret, a milkshake costs more than a dime nowadays and, yes, you have to be paid the full amount.
It was safe to say that your job could be miserable at times. Your feet hurt from running around to fulfill the endless demands of the elderly, and all the unspoken words that filled your brain often kept you up late into the night. Oh, how you wished to give old Marjorie a piece of your mind--that old bat had been giving you grief since your very first shift two years prior.
But, at the end of the day, it paid your bills and that was all you needed. Just a bit of money to keep you afloat until you finally, finally, got that degree you'd been working on for four... five? Yes, five years. Then you would finally be able to escape the hellish diner and start paving your way in the world.
That wasn't to say that you didn't miss at least some aspects of your job. There were some great locals who frequented the spot, far fewer than the old bastards who accused you of spitting in their food, but you'd certainly miss them dearly. Usuals like Miss Lucille, a little old lady who always ordered a chocolate milkshake with two straws to split with her young granddaughter, Lucy. And, there was Mr. Gustafson, a veteran who claimed that once upon a time he'd been seven feet tall. Now he was shorter than you, and he had a plethora of stories from his youth that always put a smile on your face.
You'd never tell, but secretly you hoped he and Miss Lucille would finally cross paths; they were both widowed and lonely, and oh, how you knew they'd make the perfect pair. Your favorite customer of all, though, was not of the previous generations. He'd become a bit of a celebrity with all the elderly women of the diner since he'd started coming more and more often, and it always brought a smile to your face to see them fawn over his blond hair and blue eyes.
"Speak of the devil," you teased, eyes twinkling as the bell over the door chimed, "and he shall appear."
Harrison shot you a playful scowl, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he shook the rain from his umbrella and stomped the excess water from his shoes. Harrison Osterfield was your most cherished customer of all, and he'd become your closest friend over the past year--one of very few patrons who'd crossed over from your work life to your personal one. The friendship was a strange one, and to this day you weren't entirely sure what had lead the man into the little diner hidden away in an alley.
Swiping a few lingering drops of water from his sleeves, Harrison removed the pressed suit coat and tossed it onto the bar top carelessly. The action made you cringe internally, already imagining the snagged threads that would surely come about from the jagged metal edge of the counter. This was what made your world so different from Harrison's--only a man with wealth could be so blasé as to throw a designer suit jacket onto a greasy, cracked countertop as if it cost nothing.
You were fairly certain one sleeve of the jacket alone cost more than a month's worth of rent for your apartment. Plopping down onto a stool that creaked under his weight, Harrison spun around a few times childishly before catching himself on the counter and facing you with a cheeky grin, "The usual, barmaid, at once!"
"Right away, sir," you played along, rolling your eyes at his typical behavior. For being such a serious (and successful) businessman, the blond was the most boyish man you'd ever met, "I'll be sure to add extra spit."
So, maybe there was a bit of a reason why some of the old bastards accused you of spitting in their food. You never actually did spit in the food, of course, but you often joked about it with Harrison. He wasn't much help, considering he played along just as heartily.
He licked his lips theatrically and rubbed his hands together, loudly moaning, "I love it when you talk dirty to me, (Y/N)."
Scowling at the few heads that turned, their eyes wide with disbelief and disgust, you hissed at him to be quiet. Marjorie glared at you with such ferocity that your ears burned, and it took a great deal of restraint to keep from snapping at the catty old lady to mind her own business. Harrison, of course, only laughed as if he were the funniest man on Earth.
Truly, it was a miracle the rich man hadn't gotten you fired yet. You loved his ridiculous antics, though, as proven by the fact that you often urged him on despite the judgement from the other guests in the diner. It was just how your friendship worked--something that had been happening since the very first time he stepped foot in the building, looking severely out of place and flirting with you relentlessly.
Since that fateful day just over a year before, you'd grown to be somewhat of a sister in Harrison's eyes, just as he'd come to be like a protective older brother to you. Well, protective was a light term as far as your friendship was concerned; often times he got you into more trouble than you could even imagine getting up to on your own. Like the time he'd accidentally spilled his drink on Mr. Tulson following a brazen insult he'd hurled your way for forgetting the sacred tomato slice on his sandwich. You'd gotten an earful and a written warning from the owner for daring to laugh at the scene.
As you pierced Harrison's usual order onto the spike for the cook to grab, the bell over the door chimed once more and Harrison's voice boomed, "Tom! I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."
You scrunched your nose in distaste as you fiddled with your notepad and turned to a new page, already dreading what was to come. A few times Harrison had brought his work buddies with him to the diner, and each time had left a sour taste in your mouth. They were always snobbish and looked down on you, each friend disappearing from the blond's life following their brief introduction to you.
At least Harrison was loyal and true to his values, even if he had a habit of making shitty friends. He never let anyone get away with treating you as less than; you just wished he'd stop trying to force you into his fancy, uppity life so hard. Clearly, it wasn't working well.
"Just had to make a phone call."
The voice that spoke was like velvet, soft and alluring in all the right ways that had your body stiffening slightly. It held a certain note that hinted to wisdom and knowledge beyond your short life's experience, like a finely aged cognac. Yet, there was a tone of mirth that beguiled you.
Turning around, you were definitely not disappointed by the sight that your eyes fell upon. He was shorter than Harrison, but somehow his presence commanded respect like that of royalty. Soft, brown curls were hanging into his face, frazzled from the rain and dripping slightly; a glance at his suit showed watermarks telling you he'd foregone an umbrella entirely. The thought of it actually hurt your soul as you appraised the label of his jacket, which read Brioni.
Rich people were a different breed. Trying your best not to stare, a difficult feat with a specimen like the man before you, you asked, "Who's this?"
He spoke before Harrison had the chance to introduce him, holding a hand across the counter for you to shake with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Tom Holland, darling."
You really hoped he didn't notice how you shivered when he abruptly flipped your hand and held it delicately in his palm, bringing your knuckles to his lips in the softest kiss. Your hand felt like it was on fire from the contact, your entire body igniting as your blood boiled with the heat of his gaze. His smirk, however, widened and told you that he knew exactly the effect he had on you--and most likely all women who were attracted to men.
"Lovely to meet you, Tom, I'm (Y/N)." you replied, swallowing thickly as you averted your stare to Harrison. It was impossible how beautiful Tom was; practically painful to face head on, as if staring directly into the sun. How did his teeth glitter, literally, as if life were suddenly a cartoon with diamond twinkles on those pearly whites? Someone needed to get the memo that this was real life, not Home Alone, and teeth weren't meant to dazzle like that.
Tom settled onto the stool beside Harrison, unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt and rolling them to his elbows. He didn't spin like your friend, instead locking his feet under the metal bar at the base of his seat and spreading his legs wide at the knee as if to further commandeer the space around him. "The pleasure's all mine, (Y/N)." he mused, winking, "What's a place like this have to offer?"
Harrison, who'd been watching the strangely electric interaction between you and Tom as if following an intense tennis match, seemed to finally snap out of his reverie as he launched into recommending his usual orders to Tom. He had one for each day, and went through the list as if reciting a script. "My personal favorite," he grinned, chuckling when you grimaced, "is the Wednesday special. A cheese sandwich with tomato bisque, from a can because this place is classy like that, and dear (Y/N) always adds her secret ingredient."
You guffawed, slapping the blond's shoulder and earning a curious quirk of Tom's brow. It was then that you noticed the peculiar way it laid all out of sorts, contrasting with the opposite that grew flat--somehow even the imperfection struck you as perfect. Harrison, of course, was cackling at his own joke and holding his belly.
"That secret ingredient is reserved only for you, idiot," you chided, "Tom's done nothing to deserve such treatment, yet."
Harrison opened his mouth with a throaty chuckle, "What about last week, when you gave it to poor Mar--"
Tom leaned back from the counter smoothly as you jumped onto it, slapping a hand over Harrison's mouth. "We don't speak her name, Haz. Unless you want to get me fired." you seethed.
Your eyes drifted down the bar top to the far end where Marjorie sat, stirring her coffee and glaring fervently at the three of you. Her white hair was tufted around her head in sparse curls, and Harrison groaned a laugh into your palm when she dipped her face to take a sip and revealed a lone curler still stuck in her thinning hair. Oh, old Marjorie was truly quite the character, and you even had to bite your tongue to keep from laughing as she sent another huffy scowl your way.
"Are either one of you going to explain what exactly you two are talking about?"
Snipping once more at Harrison in warning, you retracted your hand and rested back onto your feet behind the counter. He licked his lips and pouted, though you could see the way his lips quirked up at the corners and he chewed on his cheek to keep from grinning. It was then that you felt the moisture on your palm, retching as you wiped your hand on your skirt and subtly flicked him off.
His smirk was childish as he whispered, quite loudly, "(Y/N) spits in the soup."
Tom's face pinched, but you had no time to inform him it was a joke before Marjorie interrupted, "Excuse me?"
Her spoon clattered against the ceramic edge of her mostly empty soup bowl with a loud clang, and you pinched your nose with a sigh, "What, Marjorie?"
"Did he just say that you--"
Flashing a dazzling smile that had the woman stammering, her wrinkled cheeks flushing a deep red, Tom soothed, "I apologize, Miss, for my friend's distasteful joke. (Y/N)'s done nothing of the sort, I promise you."
His smile was powerful enough that even you felt a little off balance. The way he spoke left no room for doubt, his voice never wavering in strength for even a moment to let onto the fact that he damn well had no idea what he was talking about. He'd never even met you before--how could he truly know such a thing? Yet, you felt as if he could have told you the sky was red and you'd have believed it.
It was disorienting. Harrison was the wealthiest man you'd ever met, and only for a moment had he ever intimidated you. And yet, now there was Tom who spoke with such conviction and intensity that you couldn't help but to shrink back. He was powerful, and something told you it had nothing to do with his financial status.
Never before had you seen anyone so able to placate Marjorie. Before Tom, you'd have sworn that God himself could have walked up to her and she'd have spit in his face with disgust. How did he do it? How was he so easily able to turn her from the wicked witch of the west to a giggling little girl?
You and Harrison watched on with wide eyes and gaping mouths as the elderly woman smiled, gummy and mostly toothless, before patting Tom's cheek affectionately. The noise had turned to static as you watched the scene unfold in utter befuddlement. Before long, Tom was pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek and muttering something that had her giggling like a teenager.
She retreated to her seat with a lingering smile and fleeting glances toward the man who'd charmed her so effortlessly. Turning to Harrison, still blinking in bewilderment, you hissed, "Where the hell did you meet this guy?"
The blond man stammered, swiping a hand through his hair as he squeaked, "At work! He's only visiting."
Tom's chuckle brought your attention back to him, his arms folded over his chest as he watched the two of you whisper with amusement. You clenched your jaw to keep from gaping at the ripple of muscle that rolled along his arms, biceps bulging slightly as he teasingly flexed at you. This man was otherworldly.
"I'm in town for the week on business." he stated, smiling lazily, "I think I'll have what he's having, darling. Any other secret ingredients I should know about?"
"No," your eye twitched in annoyance with the way your voice cracked, spiking a few octaves too high, "I'll get that going right away." You turned away with hitched breathe as he winked again, clearly far too aware of all the things he did to you without even trying.
The two men slowly settled back into easy conversation as you returned to your duties. Steve, the cook, rolled his eyes as you called out to him to double Harrison's order--your hands were trembling just a little too hard for you to write legibly. It made you feel pathetic, almost, to be so affected by a man who'd not even truly flirted with you.
Had it been that long? You grimaced as you made your way toward Marjorie who was smiling into her soup, still clearly in a daze you realized with the way she brought an empty spoon to her lips after missing the bowl entirely. It had definitely been awhile; you hadn't had a boyfriend since you'd started university.
As Marjorie, normally so aggressive with you, patted your hand tenderly and dropped an actual tip onto the counter, you knew that the affect Tom had on you had absolutely nothing to do with your loneliness. He'd put Marjorie, the witchiest old woman you'd ever met, under his spell with a simple smile and kiss on the cheek! There was something off about him, something superhuman.
You had to chuckle to yourself over your ridiculous thoughts. What was up with you? He charmed the knickers off an old woman and suddenly he's the devil? A super flirt? You pinched your leg and cursed yourself mentally, it was definitely the dry spell in your love life giving you so much grief.
Listening in on Harrison and Tom's conversation, you busied yourself with wrapping napkins around silverware. There were still two other tables aside from them who remained, and you were anxious to get them out. The sooner they left, the sooner you could go home and try your best to treat the serious case of damp panties you were experiencing.
You really needed to get laid.
"How the hell do you do it, mate?" Harrison pried, and you giggled as you glanced at his awestruck face. The napkins grew far more interesting when Tom grinned at the noise, though, and you avoided his wandering eyes as best as you could.
It didn't help much, because no matter how much you tried to steady your hands you could still feel his hot, watchful gaze on your body. "A man never reveals his secrets," Tom mused, eyes locked on you as you risked another peek. He dropped to a soft whisper then, "Besides, if I told you, I'd have to kill you."
Harrison groaned childishly, but you shivered as you remained completely entranced by Tom's burning brown eyes. It was as if you were trapped there, unable to look away for even a moment, completely enraptured with the devilish way he undressed you with his stare. You knew, then, that it wouldn't have been hard at all; he wouldn't have had to say a thing to have you begging for him.
Grumbling, the blond huffed, "Whatever. Are you going to be in town for the weekend?"
Your thoughts echoed his question, and Tom only looked away from you for a moment as he replied, "Yes, my flight out is on Tuesday."
"I'm having a party for my birthday on Saturday, if you'd like to come." Harrison invited, and you stifled a laugh. Tom? At a costume party?
He smirked, questioning with a far too suggestive tone, "Will you be there, darling?"
"Of course she will be!"
You glared at Harrison for speaking for you, but he only shrugged as if to say it was the truth. Of course, it was the truth--the pair of you were as thick as thieves and you wouldn't have even dreamt of not attending his birthday party. A little part of you was still flustered, though, your mind reeling with the knowledge that Tom cared about whether you'd be there or not. He wanted to see you.
Clicking your tongue, despite how much you wanted to grin and giggle just like Marjorie had, you chimed, “You’ve forgotten the best part, Harrison. It’s a costume party.”
Deep in your brain, some part of you had been expecting Tom to laugh at the prospect of a costume party and find it childish. Adults playing dress up? Please. You were left breathless, though, when his smirk only widened as Harrison added, “This year’s theme is angels and demons.”
“Even better.” Tom mused, and there was that devilish smirk again. The way he chuckled to himself made you feel as though there was some deep, twisted inside joke that you were sorely missing. “Text me the details.”
✞ ✞ ✞
Friday evening you stood deep inside the local craft store, trying your absolute hardest to ignore the way the shop attendant glared at you. It was late—definitely later than any normal person was out perusing the best deals on crafting supplies. You’d just gotten off of work, though, and you needed a few things to finish your costume.
Maybe you’d procrastinated a bit, but what could you say? Between working in the dreadful diner and slumming your way through all of your classes, you were a busy woman. Tonight had been no exception.
Marjorie had been back to her usual self, and a part of you had wondered if maybe she’d been a bit more hostile than normal. You’d seen the way her eyes lingered on the door after Harrison had entered, and also the way her body seemed to deflate when nobody trailed in after him. Strangely enough, you’d found yourself doing much the same.
Even now, as you stood before an alarmingly large section of faux feathers, you could still see Harrison’s haughty smirk in your mind. He’d certainly noticed the fleeting glances you’d shot at the door before finally he’d informed you that Tom wasn’t coming. You’d punched his shoulder and told him to shut up, but he’d just laughed.
You set the boxed hot glue gun on the shelf beside you and picked up a bag of assorted feathers in black, white, and grey. It had taken you quite a while to decide on what you’d wanted to be; originally you’d been pretty set on being an angle. But, maybe a small part of you wanted to be a little different now that you knew he was going to be there.
Set yourself apart from the crowd and all that jazz. So, you’d settled on being a fallen angel. Straining your eyes to stare down the aisle, you bit your lip when you realized that the coast was clear. The attendant had finally stopped watching you, and you sneakily ripped open the package of feathers. If you were going to be wearing the damn things for an entire night, you were going to make sure they didn’t feel itchy and gross.
“Naughty girl, (Y/N).”
Yelping, you jumped in fright and sent a small shower of feathers through the air. “Tom!” you gasped, whirling around to face him and hitting his shoulder, “You scared the fuck out of me.”
He was laughing at you. It was a husky, mirthful sound that had your heart racing as his eyes crinkled at the corners and a beautiful smile split his cheeks apart. Your breath hitched when he extended a hand toward your face, fingertips just barely caressing your cheek before he pulled away with a feather in hand.
Still chuckling, Tom hummed, “You’re losing your feathers, Angel.”
Stumbling awkwardly over your feet, you stuffed the now half empty bag of feathers to the bottom of the bin. Your heart was still racing and you shot fleeting glances down the aisle in fear that the worker would return to find the mess you had made, but to your surprise they were nowhere in sight. Funny, how they’d made a spectacle of watching you so closely, only to disappear the moment you had done something worthy of being kicked out.
You snatched up a few of the unopened bags and clutched them to your chest, grabbing the hot glue gun as well with trembling fingers. The shivers that wracked your body weren’t from the fright Tom had given you—no, they were simply due to his… proximity. It was a strange thing you’d noticed from the first moment he’d entered the diner.
When he was near, it was as if the air was electrified between the two of you. Your body was constantly buzzing, your blood boiling, and your hair standing on end. It made no sense at all, the strange affect he had on you, but it was ever present. Even now, standing in a deserted craft store, you were vibrating as if you were about to run a marathon.
It was as if he dialed all of your senses up to the hundredth percentile. Your vision was sharper, your hearing clearer, and, fuck, if his cologne didn’t overwhelm you. Was it cologne? It wasn’t any scent you’d ever smelled before. A strange mixture of earthy scents, musk, and what you could only describe as the smell of fire.
Not wood, not gasoline, or the scent of charred remnants—but fire itself. Sometimes the peculiar smell would fade and make way for a heady gust of petrichor, only when he drew close enough that you’d barely need move at all to touch him. You liked that scent the most.
Like now, as he leaned close to reach behind you, you subconsciously breathed in and felt your stomach flip flop at the smell of oncoming rain. It didn’t strike you as cologne, but what did you know? He was filthy rich, for all you knew it was some luxury spritz that cost more than your tuition.
As he pulled back to reveal his hands filled with packages of sleek, black feathers, you giggled. Of course he would be going as a demon. He quirked a brow at you curiously, “Something funny, darling?”
“No, no,” you hummed, biting your cheek to keep from laughing even harder, “Just not surprised, is all.”
“About what?”
You motioned to the feathers with the hand that held your new hot glue gun, teasing, “You dressing up as a demon.”
Tom’s haughty smirk appeared, his pink lips puffing up as his eyes glistened. You could see the flicker of challenge that ignited in his brown irises, clearly enjoying your banter, and he tempted, “And why’s that, hm?”
He stepped closer, nearly bumping chest to chest with you as the smell of ozone consumed you. It wasn’t threatening, that much you could tell from the mischievous twitch of his lips, but it was intimidating. That power that seemed to radiate off of him wrapped around you like a cloak, burning your skin as you grew flustered.
Trying your best to remain steady under his gaze, you quipped, “You just don’t strike me as the angelic type, Tom.”
“Nothing gets past you, eh?”
He stepped back again, your senses slowly dulling from the heights he’d driven them to without so much as a single touch. Perhaps you should peruse the shower heads next, you thought, shuddering. Tom turned the focus onto you, then, as he asked, “So, what’ll you be then, lovely?”
His eyes trailed slowly down your face before falling onto the supplies in your arms. Was it just you, or did they linger for a long moment on your lips? Thoughtlessly, you licked them, and he narrowed his eyes. So, he was staring at your lips—did that mean he wanted to kiss you?
Emboldened by his stares, you teased, “Wouldn’t you like to know? I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out like everyone else.”
“Well, if you’re planning on being an angel, I just might have to convince you to fall from heaven.” Fuck, he was good. Tom only grew cockier with your sudden confidence, and his stance broadened arrogantly as he watched you falter slightly at his remark.
You hoped he didn’t hear the tremor in your voice as you sassed, “I’d expect nothing less from a devil like you, Tom.”
That smirk, oh how it did things to you. Once again you felt as if you were missing something with the way his lips stretched wider, an alluring chuckle escaping his mouth at your words. It was as if you’d said just the right thing, speaking some sort of truth that you were completely ignorant to.
His voice was dark and heady as he dared, eyes dancing with fiery temptation, “You have no idea, Angel, the devil I am.”
✞ ✞ ✞
Harrison shouted, cheeks flushed a deep red and words slightly slurred as he bounded toward you energetically, “You made it! Wow, you look amazing!”
You laughed at your friend as he swayed slightly on his feet, his fingers clumsily reaching out to grasp one of your feathered sleeves. “Thanks, Haz.” You grinned, and he hiccupped, “How drunk are you?”
Squinting his eyes and pinching his fingers together as close as he could, without actually touching the pads together, he cheered, “Just a little bit.” Somehow, you doubted that.
He was unsteady on his feet and his eyes were glassy, alerting you to just how far gone he truly was. He was still clutching the thin scrap of tulle you’d sewn onto a black, silk negligee, crushing a few of the greyscale feathers in his fist. You pretended not to notice when one fell off—you hadn’t been expecting perfection from a late night of hot glue, burnt fingerprints, and needle pricks.
You’d felt as if you were a little too risqué with your costume before you’d left your apartment that day. For nearly an hour you had fawned over it in your mirror, wondering if the dress was too short or if the lacy, black, thigh-high stockings were too trashy. Had the red pumps been bold, or tacky?
But now, as you stood inside Harrison’s massive home, you almost felt prudish. Women all around you were ambling about in heels and lingerie, and you swore you even saw one with nipple tassels. Now, your long, flowing sleeves of tulle and feathers felt like a blanket that wrapped around you. You were glad that you’d cut them short enough to not touch the floor, because if they had, they’d definitely have been torn from being stepped on.
Already you’d been smacked in the face by more fake wings than you could count, and one guy even nearly took your eye out with his devil horns when you’d been getting a drink. People were absolutely smashed, sloppy drunk, and you watched on with wide eyes. There was a crash in the distance, followed by cheering, and Harrison yelped, “Who broke that?”
He disappeared into the crowd again, stumbling over his feet, and you sipped your drink with a grimace. You didn’t know anybody aside from him, and you hadn’t seen Tom yet—for all you knew, maybe he had changed his mind. The thought of it had you pouting like a petulant little girl.
“Who is that?”
“Damn, I’d climb him like a tree.”
“Fuck, where did he get those wings?”
The party seemed to dull slightly as a slow murmur spread throughout the crowd, and your eyes flickered to the door only to do a double take. It was him. Tom was here, and holy shit did you suddenly feel faint.
He stepped through the threshold with a stone cold face, expression blank as he ignored each and every person who tried to talk to him. The evening sun washed him in golden light that sent rays around his head like a halo—except, he was no angel. From his back extended two large, sleek, black wings that were furled inward toward his body.
Eyes circling the room, you swore your heart stopped beating when they landed on you and a breathtaking smile finally brought some life to his face. It was like a trance that you couldn’t break out of, your eyes glued to him as he approached you steadily despite every obstacle that interrupted his stride. Women and men alike stepped in his path only to be brushed aside, and a few stray objects were kicked away like they were nothing.
He looked like sex appeal personified. A model in a magazine, only so much better; he was out of this world. His brown curls were fluffy and pushed back from his face as if he’d been dragging his hands through them repeatedly, and your fingers twitched with the desire to do much the same. Gone was the suit jacket, and he wore a silk dress shirt that was barely even buttoned half way—the fabric spilling open to reveal a godly chest of bronzed, rippling muscle.
You were fucking jealous of the delicate, silver chain that rested on his collarbones. His sleeves were unbuttoned once again and haphazardly pushed up to his elbows, showing off his strong, veiny arms that lead to sinful hands stacked with rings. His pants were tight, impeccably tailored, and they rose high onto his waist with the shirt tucked in messily. Even his shoes were oozing wealth, polished so blindingly that they could have been their own light source.
But those wings! How did he do that with those same cheap feathers? The very same ones that you had bought for yourself? He turned to dodge a vase that soared past his head, shattering on the wall beside him, and you gaped at the massive shreds in the back of his shirt through which the wings extended. You had to give it to him, he’d expertly crafted his outfit to hide the straps that held them onto his body.
Harrison paused briefly to greet him before racing off after the guest who’d thrown the vase, shouting with a red face and heaving chest. One last woman stepped before Tom, the one with the nipple tassels, and he brushed her aside gently. You pretended not to notice the hostile glare she sent your way as he finally came to stop before you.
“You look absolutely ravishing, Angel,” he purred, but you were frozen to the spot as you stared into his face in amazement. His eyes—they were black! Those brown eyes you’d come to recognize were gone, and how his irises were so dark you could no longer discern the difference between them and their pupils. “(Y/N)?”
Blinking, you released the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, “Sorry, sorry, uh—thank you, Tom. You look good, yourself.”
Tom simpered, eyes shining like polished onyx, “Just good? My, what does it take to impress you, darling?”
You squeaked, body igniting with a million emotions as you flustered. Impress you? He wanted to impress you? Your heart was racing and you desperately tried to focus on anything other than the way his eyes glittered at you, sucking you into their void.
His wings shone under the light like an oil slick. The full rainbow reflected off of them, a dance of holographic light that had you captivated. They were so convincing you’d have almost thought they were real, perhaps the feathers of a raven, had you not witnessed him buying the same craft store feathers that you had yourself. But, why didn’t yours look like that?
Tom brushed the tips of his fingers across your cheek and plucked a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear skillfully. The trail his touch had taken felt like the licks of white hot flames on your skin, and you were once again all encompassed by that smell of petrichor. He was so close—you couldn’t resist. You placed your hand on his chest to steady yourself, palm flat on his bare skin, and he hummed in appreciation.
He flicked the halo over your head, a cheap costume store headband you’d bought and spray painted black, and mused, “I like this. Not like all the other angels, are you?”
“Maybe I decided to fall from heaven for you all by myself.”
For a fleeting moment he looked visibly shaken by your words, blindsided by your sudden flirtation and confidence. It made your belly flutter with warmth as your body heated up, but his smirk replaced itself easily to keep you on your toes. Shivers wracked your body as he ran his fingers through your hair more deftly, before placing his hand over yours that remained planted over top of his heart.
It was warm, and his hand was somewhere in between rough and soft that had you longing to feel his touch on all of your skin. His fingers were calloused, but his grip was so delicate as he brought your knuckles to his lips for the second time, eyes never moving away from your own. “Dance with me, Angel?” he asked, and you nodded before he’d even finished asking the question.
He led you into the thick of the crowd, bodies writhing around the two of you drunkenly to the pounding music. You weren’t entirely sure how Harrison managed to keep the police away, surely causing quite the disturbance in his gated community, but money often solved most problems. All you cared about was Tom’s eyes on you, hands never leaving your own as he pulled you along behind him and dodged everyone who tried to sweep him away.
The song was practically impossible to hear with the heavy pumping of the bass, or maybe that was just your racing heart thundering behind your ears. He pulled your body flush to his, your back to his chest and his hands gripping your hips firmly. You stood frozen, but soon enough he used those hands to guide you, swirling your hips slowly as he pressed into you from behind.
Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder as you took over. You leaned into the steady blaze he ignited in you, rather than shying away from it, and your hands came down on top of his as he let you take the lead. Bodies pressed tightly together, the crowd fell away as all that remained in the world was you and Tom.
Tingles spread through your nervous system like a wildfire when you felt his soft, skillful lips ghost along your neck, and you were all too eager to tilt your head perfectly to expose the column of your throat to him. He growled quietly under his breath, the warm air invading your ear and your senses went haywire, but it was nothing compared to the internal frenzy he started when he kissed your skin more fervently.
He latched onto the delicate skin of your neck, sucking hard until you couldn’t help but to moan. His tongue followed, soothing the deep bruise he’d certainly created, and you sighed. “You make such beautiful sounds, darling.” he cooed, his voice raspy as he whispered in your ear.
“Keep going.” you whimpered, and he dug his fingers into your hips, “Please.”
Tom spun you around so fast that your eyes rolled, your head nearly colliding with his before he steadied you on your feet. His eyes were darker than ever now, and you bit back a lusty moan just from the sight as you buried your face into his shoulder and stuck your neck out for him again. He didn’t have to be told twice, leaving a trail of marks along the tender skin greedily.
It wasn’t until you finally broke, losing all of your inhibitions and sloppily kissing his chest, that he stopped. His entire body tensed under your grip, and he inhaled sharply with a bruising squeeze of your waist. Voice tight and restrained, he choked, “Let’s get a drink, Angel.”
Confused, you nodded. You didn’t understand his sudden retreat until he turned you around again, walking you forward with your back pressed to his front tightly. Something hard dug into your bum, and your eyes widened—oh. He’d stopped because he was excited.
You had to admit, you were smug. Smirking to yourself, you giggled under your breath and ignored the subtle way he pinched your hip in spite, unable to resist the pride. You’d turned him on, and man, did it feel good.
He kept you there, pressed into his steadily growing erection for a long while. Traipsing you around the party to speak with whoever was still capable of forming words, hands never leaving your hips. He even pulled you into his lap at one point when you found Harrison on the sofa, and the look he’d given you when you playfully wiggled your butt had made your blood run cold.
Harrison had wandered away again after a while, but Tom kept you in his lap regardless. His arms were steady around your waist and his thumbs stroked circles onto your body through your silk dress. It was a little concerning, really, how easily he could pretend that he wasn’t practically bursting out of his slacks beneath you.
Adjusting in his lap again, he hissed, “Stop it.”
“Or what?”
He squeezed your hips so tightly you whined, and tugged you around until you were straddling him. Your dress rode up to your hips, exposing far more of you than was publicly decent, but you didn’t have the time to care as you blanched under his withering gaze. “Do you have any idea the things you do to me?” he questioned, deeply.
Tom’s hands were creeping up your thighs, thumbs still tracing circles of fire into your skin that had you sweating. “How did you get these to look so real?” you changed the subject, lips twitching slightly in a smirk as he glared at you.
You reached out toward one of his wings, brushing your fingertips along the feathers only to shiver. They were incredibly soft, yet strong and slightly oily like those of a bird. As you touched them, Tom stiffened, and your eyes flickered to him in surprise. His eyelids fluttered as you continued to caress the feathers, his nostrils flaring as he sucked in a deep breath.
“Can you…” you trailed off, mouth running dry as you more deftly pushed your fingers into the plush blanket of feathers. The massive wing twitched under your touch, and a growl rumbled through Tom’s chest. Frozen, you dragged your eyes to his face to find his eyes had gone completely black—the dark hue of the iris consuming the sclera. “They’re real.”
He blinked, and the black receded into his iris once again. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears ominously as you gaped at him, body buzzing with a strange concoction of feelings. You had to admit that you were terrified, but as you moved your hand once more and saw the way he writhed under your touch, the heat in your body flooded straight into your core.
Tom didn’t take his eyes off of you for a single moment, sitting stone still beneath you as he awaited your reaction. Blinking and taking a deep breath, you curled your fist into the feathers and surged forward to capture his lips with yours. He kissed you just as desperately, arms caging around your waist as he stood up easily with you wrapped around him.
He carried you through the house without pulling away for even a single moment, walking with confidence and intent as if he owned the place. A few people squealed and dove out of the way, but neither one of you cared one bit; all you could focus on was the addicting way his lips tasted. You needed more.
Opening a door and rapidly closing it behind him, Tom spun and slammed your back into the wood hard enough to receive a pained groan from you. The motion stung your back and you could feel some of the fake feathers on your sleeves stabbing your skin, your spine aching deeply. “Did you think you’d get away with teasing me, Angel? Did you think I wouldn’t punish you?” he seethed, and your eyes widened.
Tom’s hand closed around your throat, only one arm and the press of his body keeping you from falling to the floor. He squeezed expertly; your breathing only slightly restricted as you could feel the steady throb of blood flow being held up beneath his fingers. His smirk widened at the hushed wheezes that escaped your lips, the flesh parting slightly as you worked harder to get air.
“Answer me.” he taunted, squeezing a little tighter.
You gave a choked squeak, “I’m sorry, Tom! Please, I—I’m sorry!”
He tutted, but released his grip on your throat to let you gasp for air. Your head was spinning from the rush of blood, and your limbs were tingling slightly. “Sorry won’t cut it, Angel. Bad girls need to be punished.” he clicked his tongue at you, shaking his head reproachfully.
Tom dropped you carelessly and laughed as you stumbled, falling to your knees helplessly. Your palms and your kneecaps stung as you scuffed them on the floor, and you looked up at him timidly. What had you gotten yourself into?
The way he looked at you, though, eyes dark and glinting with lusty menace, made your mouth water. You knew that if he dipped his fingers into your panties now that you’d be soaking, and you clenched your thighs together subconsciously at the thought. Nothing got by him, though. He noticed, and licked his lips appreciatively.
He curled his fingers around your upper arm and heaved you from the floor in one deft motion, easily dragging you toward the bed. You grunted as he pushed you forcefully onto the mattress, your face slamming into the sheets hard enough to rattle your skull. “What are you—Tom!” you squealed, shooting up onto your hands and knees when his hand came down in a withering blow onto your behind.
Tom caught you before you could crawl away, shoving you back down as he crawled up the bed to straddle the backs of your thighs. You craned your neck to look behind you, only to gasp when you caught sight of the wings on his back. No longer were they furled inward toward his body; they stretched wide and tall behind his back, the tips nearly brushing the walls on either side of the room they were so massive.
“Holy fuck!” your startled exclamation toward his wings was interrupted when he spanked your cheeks again, palm squeezing the flesh aggressively following the stinging impact.
Three more blows came in quick succession, your eyes burning nearly as much as your sensitive skin with each hit. Your mouth was watering, though, and your body buzzing with anticipation as you rutted into his palm desperately. He chuckled teasingly as he brought both of his hands up to play with your bum, spreading your cheeks and tutting to himself.
He was toying with you, this thumbs dipping oh-so-close to your aching center with each squeeze of your flesh, but never quite touching you where you wanted him the most. “Look at you, Angel, so desperate for me. Dripping all over yourself like a slut.” he cooed, “These need to go.”
You yelped when he ripped at the waistband of your panties, tearing the garment on either side of you before yanking it off of your body. He shifted on the bed and crammed one knee between your legs, kicking them apart roughly until your slick center was exposed to the cool air. “Hey, those were—shit!” you shrieked as he slapped your ass harder than ever, the wind actually leaving your lungs from the force of the blow.
Tears bloomed in your eyes, but you blinked them away with a whimper. “Aw, is my angel gonna cry? Cry, darling, show me just how pathetic you are.” he taunted, and you bit your tongue to keep the tears from falling.
He was mean. His words stung and made your heart clench, but they made your belly tighten up even more. You liked it; hell, loved it, even.
Tom’s fingers slipped through your folds, finally, collecting your wetness and dragging it between your cheeks as he teased your forbidden hole. Your entire body tensed as you tried to scoot away again, but it was no use—he pinned your arms and leaned over you until his nose was brushing the shell of your ear. He murmured, “Tell me that you don’t want this, and I’ll go.”
Your lips parted in a hushed whine, shivering as he nipped at your earlobe, “I—Tom, please, I want you.”
“What do you want, Angel?”
His clothed erection ground into your bare behind, and you gasped, “I want you to fuck me!”
In an instant, he backed away from you and clambered off of the bed entirely. You struggled to catch your breath, wanting to weep as you’d thought he was leaving, but then you heard it. The faint sound of a zipper broke the silence in the room, and you flipped over to see him undressing.
His shirt was already gone, his full torso on display as he dragged his trousers from his legs. Language seemed to fail you in that moment as you appraised him, eyes wide and lips parted in amazement. His body was like an ancient Greek statue, hard yet soft in that peculiar way that only chiseled marble could achieve. His muscles rippled with every movement, and his wings dragged over the ceiling as he stood tall before you.
They were positively massive. It was impossible how they didn’t dwarf him with their size, somehow seeming perfectly in proportion with his body. His black eyes watched you closely as you admired him, fully bare before you. You shakily moved to peel your dress off.
“Don’t.” Tom warned, and you froze, fingers curled around the hemline of your negligee, “Leave it on.”
He stepped toward the bed like a hunter stalking their prey, eyes locked on you as he smirked devilishly and loomed over you. There was a threatening aura about him that screamed of power and danger, but it wrapped around the two of you like a warm cocoon. You weren’t scared of being hurt; though, you had an idea that you wouldn’t be walking away from him without pain.
Tom pushed you back to lay flat, crawling on his knees until he was perched between your thighs again. He sat back on his heels, his length resting against his thigh and weeping. You wanted to touch, but one look from him told you that tonight wasn’t about your desires.
It was about his. His hands yanked your dress up until it was bundled beneath your breasts, and you shivered when he playfully circled his thumbs over your covered, stiffened nipples. “You look good enough to eat, Angel.” he breathed, clenching his jaw as he stared at the dripping mess you’d created between your legs.
In a split second that left you dazed and confused, Tom was lying flat between your legs with his lips wrapped roughly around your clit. You gasped, arching off of the bed, and he nipped your bud with his teeth. “Move away again and you’ll regret it, Angel.” he hissed a warning, glaring at you, and you froze timidly.
His arms crossed over your hips to hold you down, your thighs draped over his shoulders, effectively trapping you in place. He dove back in, licking fat stripes through your folds and moaning at the taste. The vibrations mad you shiver, your thighs instinctively tightening around his head. Already your stomach was all wound up, just aching to explode as he ate you like his last meal.
Tom pulled away with a final tug of his lips around your swollen nub, smirking when you whined pitifully. Your whining morphed into a cry, though, when he bit down onto your thigh so hard you feared he might actually break the skin. Releasing your flesh from his teeth, he soothed the aching skin with sloppy, open mouthed kisses that surely deepened the bruises that would follow. He repeated his actions on both of your legs, over and over, tightening his grip when you weakly wiggled your hips and tried to pull your thighs from his mouth.
“What the fuck!”
Tom slapped his open palm onto your clit harshly, the smack echoing through the room until it was swallowed up by your shout. “Stop moving, Angel.” he shrugged, winking playfully when you huffed, “I’m not done.”
He forced his tongue through your entrance, chuckling when you moaned loudly, and his hands pushed your thighs up until your legs were tucked into your chest. Fully exposed and submitted to him from your new position, Tom’s nose nudged your clit before he wandered further south. You gasped when you felt his wet muscle circle your pursed hole, your wetness dripping from your core to follow his movements.
He teased the entrance with his tongue, dipping into it for a fleeting second before licking a long, broad stripe all the way back to your clit. Never before had anyone tried such a thing with you, but now that Tom had crossed that line—you wanted more. It sent shivers through your body and made you chase after his mouth with your hips.
You watched as he switched his focus rapidly, cycling through your clit and both your holes on repeat, black eyes never drifting away from your own for even a second. Your chest was heaving as you breathed heavily, feeling that coil in your stomach tighten for the third time in a row, only for him to pull away again just before it could snap. He was teasing you; bringing you to the edge of relief, over and over, only to pull the rug from under your feet and leave you hanging.
His thumb rolled rough circles over your clit as he focused his tongue on your dripping entrance, stretching you out with the muscle and making you beg for release, “Please, Tom, I need to cum!”
Hands squeezing your thighs, he pulled away with a grin. His face was soaked with your juices; lips, nose, and chin all glistening with your arousal as he sat up once more and let your legs fall pitifully to the bed. “You need to cum, Angel? Does my little slut want to cum on my tongue?” he pouted, tauntingly.
You nodded desperately, clawing at the bed sheets, “Please!”
“You’ll cum when I say so,” he jeered, slapping the back of your thigh that was already riddled with bite marks, “I’m in charge here, Angel. Got it?”
You clenched your jaw in frustration, earning a menacing scowl, but you nodded nonetheless. His eyes were alight with mischievous enjoyment, his lips spreading into his signature smirk as he jabbed, “Look at you, so pathetic for me, Angel. You’ll do anything I say just to feel my cock, won’t you?” When you nodded, bitterly, he squeezed your thigh, “Such a dumb little slut for my cock. Didn’t even have to work to get you to fall for me.”
Tom yanked you up by your hair, your mouth opening in a cry as he forced you to lift your head. He crammed a pillow beneath your skull before dropping you, and you blinked away the tears that filled your eyes once more. Already, your cheeks were streaked with tears from how many times he’d edged you, and you knew that was exactly what he wanted.
He crawled over you until he was hovering over your chest, knees on either side of your head and his feet digging roughly into your shoulders. You were pinned, unable to move as he gripped his length in his fist and pumped it slowly. “Open up, Angel.”
Opening your mouth, your eyes watered as he dove in to the hilt. You were gagging around him, choking, but he didn’t care; his eyes fluttered shut and he groaned throatily as your mouth wrapped around him completely. He looked truly threatening then; a bad omen sent straight from hell.
He towered over you, still buried deep into your throat, and his black wings stretched so wide that you couldn’t make out the ends of them in your peripheral vision anymore. They glistened in the lamplight, reflecting broken rainbows in their feathers. Tom’s skin was slick and shining with sweat, and he looked like a work of art; some ancient painting of the devil personified.
Pulling out slowly, you barely had time to suck in a breath before he thrust back into your mouth abruptly. He set a fast pace, fucking into your mouth fast enough that you felt like your head was spinning; your eyes were rattling around your skull as you tried your hardest to catch a breath whenever you could. Tom’s hands came down to grip your head, holding you so tightly you wondered if he’d be able to crush your skull like that.
“Fucking perfect mouth on you, Angel,” Tom moaned, rutting his hips into your chin and fisting your hair roughly, “such a good girl for me. You like it when I fuck that perfect mouth?”
All you could do was whine around his throbbing length, still pushing through your lips roughly. Your mouth had long since gone numb, lips tingling and tongue limp in your mouth; he loved it, though. Tom gripped your chin in his fingers, swiping his thumb through the spit that leaked out and smearing it across your cheeks.
With one final thrust, Tom pulled out and smacked your cheek lightly as you panted. You wondered how much of a mess you looked like right then, your mouth undoubtedly puffy and swollen from the intense friction he’d caused against your lips. You didn’t care, though; it was worth it to see the look of ecstasy on his face as he stroked himself and worked to catch his own breath.
Tom, still panting slightly, squeezed your cheeks in his hand as he stared down his nose at you. Wings stretching high above him, you shivered at the sight and pitifully squeaked as he forced your puckered lips apart and spit into your mouth. “On your hands and knees, Angel.” He murmured, leaning down briefly to suck your lower lip into his mouth.
You struggled on shaky limbs to roll over, your elbows on the verge of giving out as you worked hard to hold yourself up. Tom kneeled behind you, and you gave a shuddering sigh as you felt his hands softly caress your behind; the gentle touch didn’t last long. One swift, hard slap to your ass had you squealing.
Your elbows gave out on you, and your upper body crumpled back into the mattress weakly. Tom only hummed to himself, a dark and husky noise that made you arch your back in a silent plea for his touch. His hands were roaming your body, kneading your soft flesh and inflicting pain wherever he saw fit. A slap on your bum, a pinch on your hip, a rough twist of your nipple—all of it earned guttural moans from you.
Desperation was coursing through your blood. Your core was throbbing so hard it was growing painful, and all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted, no, needed him to fuck you. “Please, Tom,” you begged, your voice cracking, “I need you.”
He crooned, hands gripping your ass and spreading you apart once again, “Is that so? My angel needs me?”
“Yes!” you cried, “Please!”
His thumb dipped into your dripping entrance, and the noise you made was pornographic. Loud and theatrical, but it was full of need and desire. Tom chuckled ruthlessly as he retracted his thumb, amused by your pleas, and suddenly the digit forced its way into your neglected hole.
You cried out in a mixture of pain and surprise, but it was enough to have your knees quaking. Finally, he was giving you something. He pumped his thumb into you a few times, the palm of his hand lying flat atop your ass as his fingers dug into your pelvis to hold you in place.
Trembling, you could feel the tears coming. Just as a choked sob wracked its way up your throat, Tom teased his tip through your folds. Just the slightest tap on your clit sent you spiraling, the coil in your belly already threatening to explode the moment he gave you any sort of stimulation. Hooking his thumb and leaning his weight into the hand on your back, Tom slowly pushed into you.
He groaned and you shrieked, rocking your hips back toward him as you chased after him. “Fucking hell, Angel, you feel so good.” he growled, thrusting back into you deeply. His pelvis pushed into your bum, tip nudging your g-spot, and you wailed.
The slow pace didn’t last long. After a few seconds, Tom pulled back and plunged into your heat fast enough to shove you forward on the bed. He crawled after you, thumb abandoning your now aching hole to wrap his arm around your hips and hold you in place. You’d never felt anything like this before—never in your life had any man ever fucked you as well as he did.
It was like he was made for you, his cock filling you so perfectly as if every ridge fit just right into all the little crevices of your walls. Like two puzzle pieces finding home in each other, he drove you to heights you’d never experienced before. “Harder, Tom, please!” you begged, and he obliged.
His thrusts were relentless, his hips slamming into your ass so hard that you were fairly certain his arm was the only thing holding you up. “Are you mine, Angel? Is this cunt all for me? No man could ever fuck you like this, Angel.” Tom was spitting fiery, possessive words with every push of his hips.
“Yours, I’m yours!” you gasped, clawing frantically at the sheets as he rutted into you and rolled your hips into him, “Nobody could ever fuck me like you—oh!”
He brought his free hand around to your clit, fingers pinching and rolling your swollen bud rapidly. Black spots were clouding your vision as you forgot how to breathe, the combination of his deep thrusts and desperate fingers making your entire body seize up. “Cum for me, Angel, wanna feel you cum all over me.” he groaned.
With one final pinch on your clit, you shrieked and the world vanished around you. The coil in your belly snapped and you shook all over, legs trembling and face scrunching up in a silent cry. The fire consumed you as he fucked you through your orgasm, thrusting harder than ever as he hissed under his breath.
Abandoning your clit, Tom’s hand wrapped around your throat again as he pulled you up until your back was flush to his chest, squeezing until you gasped for air. “This cunt’s all mine, Angel, and don’t you ever forget it. No man’s ever gonna make you feel like I do.” he gritted into your ear, biting the soft skin of your earlobe.
You had no doubts that no man would ever compare. His thrusts were growing sloppier, his hips rutting into you more frantically as the hand on your throat clenched erratically. “Cum in me, Tom,” you croaked, the sound of your voice hoarse and airy as you fought to keep his grip on your neck, “I wanna feel you fill me up. Please, please, please—Tom!”
He dropped you and gripped your hips tightly as he slammed into you one last time, rocking into you slowly as you felt his length pulse against your aching walls. The warmth followed, and you realized for the first time that you were truly crying. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, hushed sobs escaping your lips as you gasped for air.
“Angel?”
Tom’s voice was softer, full of tender love and compassion, and you cried harder when he pulled out of you. “Angel, what’s wrong?” he asked, pulling you into his arms and swiping your sweat and tear soaked hair from your face. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips pouted, and those eyes twinkled at you with concern.
“Nothing,” you whimpered, lips trembling, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
You really didn’t know why you were crying. He hadn’t hurt you—at least not in any way you hadn’t really enjoyed—and you weren’t scared. It was the best you’d ever had, but perhaps you were crying for that exact reason. Knowing what Tom was, you knew that this wouldn’t lead to anything. Never again would this happen, and nobody would ever make you feel the way that he had.
He was overwhelmingly sweet as he kissed your forehead, whispering, “I’ll clean you up, darling.”
Disappearing into the bathroom, he returned with a damp cloth that he first used to wipe your face. He swept away all of your tears and streaked makeup, smiling when your face was clear and clean once again. Then he cleaned up the mess he’d left between your legs, tenderly wiping the remnants that had leaked down your thighs. He was careful not to aggravate the bite marks he’d left on you.
When he returned once more, he pulled back the covers and tucked you into his chest, laying down as he wrapped himself around you. His wings curled around the two of you like a cocoon, and you could barely keep your eyes open as you laid your cheek onto his chest to listen to his heartbeat. It felt a little weird to hear it, knowing he wasn’t human, but was he alive? The thoughts were too confusing for you to get into.
“You did so good for me, Angel.” he praised, playing with your hair and kissing the top of your head, “My sweet angel.”
Smiling, you giggled. Tom squeezed you a little tighter at the sound, cheering, “There’s that beautiful laugh. Are you feeling better?”
You nodded, whispering, “I never felt bad, just… overwhelmed.”
He laughed, the noise making your heart skip a beat, “I told you that you had no idea the devil I am.”
“Are you?”
“Hm?” he hummed, and you propped yourself up to face him curiously.
You were genuinely curious as to what he was, and you asked, “Are you the devil?”
Tom just smirk, the black of his irises consuming the sclera once more before returning to normal. He was teasing you, that much you gathered from the playful glint in his eye, and you pouted. He didn’t leave you much time to think on it, though, because he darted forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “Think you can handle one more, Angel?” he murmured, and you hushed him with a kiss of your own.
✞ ✞ ✞
Come Monday at work, you felt as if you’d been hit by a bus. You and Tom had definitely gone for way more than just one more round, and you were suffering the consequences—both physically and emotionally.
Physically, your entire body just ached. Chairs were a no go, and your legs were riddled with marks that certainly would have raised some alarm if you hadn’t found those thick tights you’d hidden away in your dresser. But, emotionally, you were suffering, too.
Your heart hurt as you thought of the fact that never again would you see Tom. He was the devil, or something like that, and just like you’d thought on that first night—he was out of this world. Never had you expected to form a relationship with him, nor had you caught feelings for him, but it was really going to suck yearning for his touch.
The bell over the door chimed, and you raised an eyebrow at Harrison who staggered inside slowly. His face was as white as a sheet of paper, eyes wide and lips parted as though he’d just seen a ghost. “Haz?” you questioned, and he just stumbled into a stool without taking off his jacket.
Even old Marjorie shot him furtive looks of concern, penciled eyebrows creasing down the middle as she watched Harrison drag his palms over his face and groan. The two of you shared one fleeting moment of mutual respect before she turned away again, stirring her coffee and staring into her soup bowl once more. She’d been pretty strange ever since her encounter with Tom.
“Harrison, what’s wrong?” you tried again, resting your elbows on the counter as you leaned down to look into his eyes.
He blinked, his blue eyes slowly focusing on you as he breathed, “My boss is dead.”
Gasping, you stammered, “What?”
“My boss, the CEO, he—uh, he killed himself last night.” Harrison croaked, eyes welling up with unshed tears, “He left a note and… oh, fuck. It’s horrible.”
It took him a long moment to compose himself enough to continue, his body shuddering as he gritted his teeth to keep from crying. You cooed at him and squeezed his hand tenderly in yours, whispering to him that he could take as long as he needed. Never before had you seen the man so shaken up.
You certainly hadn’t expected, though, for him to tell you, “He, um, he confessed to a whole bunch of awful things. I guess he’d been running a human trafficking ring? The whole company is a sham. It was some insane money laundering scheme.”
Your jaw dropped as you gaped at him, and suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. The puzzle in your mind was finally completed. As if compelled by some unknown force, your eyes were drawn to the window, and you gasped.
Tom stood outside the diner, dressed in yet another fine suit with no wings in sight, and he smirked devilishly as you made eye contact with him. You could vaguely hear Harrison rambling about the note and how he’d never have guessed this to be true, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the man staring at you from outside.
It all made sense, suddenly. Tom was the devil, and he’d come to collect a damned soul. Frozen, you watched with bated breath as he lifted his hand to wave at you cheekily, winking at you for the final time. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
When you returned home that night, there was a lone black feather waiting for you on your pillow. Sleek, long, and shining all the colors of the rainbow—you held it between your fingers in amazement. It smelled of petrichor.
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Text
Call You Mine
Summary - When Y/N meets Jensen on the set of Supernatural, her life takes an unexpected turn. Never in her wildest dreams, Y/N thought that their casual friendship will change into something sinful after they shoot a risqué scene together one night.
Pairing - Jensen x Y/N, Jensen x OFC!Millie
Warnings - Angst, infidelity, mentions of guilt and despair, explicit mention of extramarital affairs, SMUT 18+ minors DNI (p in v, fingering, dirty talk), slight mention of Dom!Jensen (it's very slight), fluff, a happy ending.
WC - 3052
Square Filled - Free Space ( @supernatural-jackles' Tell Me A Story Bingo); Song Based Fic ( @spnmixedbingo )
A/N 1 - This is a submission for @tvdspngirl314's challenge. My prompt was "I met a girl, we talked, it was epic."
Also this is a submission for @negans-lucille-tblr's "7Ks of the Week Challenge" (Congratulations on your 7k)
@deangirl93's 500 followers challenge (congrats on your 500). My prompt was the song "I Can't Quit You Baby". All prompts are in bold.
A/N 2 - This is a work of pure fiction and irl I absolutely do not support the act of cheating in a relationship. No hate towards the Ackles fam. I love Danneel and for the sake of the fic, Jensen is married to an OFC and not Dee.
Beta'd by @miss-nerd95 (Thanks, hon <33)
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
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I can't quit you baby
So I'm gonna put you down for awhile
I said I can't quit you baby
I guess I gotta put you down for awhile
“Jensen...” The name rolled off her tongue effortlessly as the man’s fingers danced across her bare skin, his electrifying touch leaving Y/N breathless, panting and begging for more. The very touch of his that had started it all.
Everyone always expressed how being in love was the most exhilarating feeling in the world, but no one ever spoke about the perils of being in love with a person who already belonged to someone else. The ring on Jensen's finger served as a wistful and painful reminder of that.
As soon as the doors had closed, the actor had backed up Y/N against the elevator, letting her see the need in his eyes. His hands had sneaked behind her, his fingers entangling with the strands of her hair, completely messing the hairstyle she had pulled off for the m&g panel in the evening. Her hands landed on his biceps, trying to steady herself. Their lips moulded together so perfectly as if they were made for each other, but it pained Y/N to think that she was nothing but his dirty mistress.
Their relationship, if she could even call it one, was all about clandestine meets, stolen stares and subtle touches. Jensen was like a drug for her and she was high on the thrill of being with him even if he was gone in the morning, leaving her behind with nothing but guilt.
Jensen had closed the door of the suite behind him as they stepped into Y/N’s room together. With lips swollen from their heavy makeout in the elevator, he wasted no time as she found herself pinned to the wall by the actor's strong hands. In the fairly lit room, she noticed his wedding band was now missing. Y/N knew Jensen and his wife's relationship was on the rocks even before she had started to work on the SPN set. Which was also the reason why few months ago, the hide-and-seek between them and the hungry paps with cameras had started.
Hands on her hips, Jensen had pulled her close on the set, more than the director demanded it. That night, he had found himself standing inside her trailer, after the fated shot. The heart wants what it wants and just as the saying went, they had given in to their burning desires. In a moment of weakness, Jensen had broken off every single one of his vows and destroyed any hope of salvaging his relationship with his estranged wife.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jensen ripped her blouse off, unhooking her bra quickly, barely containing his eagerness before stepping out of his own jacket. Y/N clutched at the ends of the counter, knocking off the magazines lying on top of it and draping her other arm around Jensen's firm body. He delicately cupped her face as his mouth devoured hers. She could taste the mint and coffee on his lips feeling his teeth graze roughly against her, making her moan into him. The actor pushed her legs apart with his knees and stood close between her thighs as his tongue explored every inch of her mouth.
In desperate need of air, they momentarily separated before Jensen dipped his head down again, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down her neck. Y/N’s legs buckled under his hypnotic touch when his mouth found her pulse point and she supported herself against his body. Jensen's hands moved down to her breasts, kneading them. His fingers caressed her hard nipples before his mouth latched onto one sensitive bud.
“Jay, please-” Y/N could only form two words as Jensen flicked her nipple while his fingers worked on the other one, spurring her on. Words weren't quite necessary, cause the man knew exactly what she needed. He knew her every tic, her every emotion like the back of his hand and Y/N was aware of that fact as well. No one could ever worship her body like he did.
Jensen was still wearing the black polo shirt, his noticeable bulge painfully straining in his jeans. She felt her wetness dampening the fabric of her panties as she thrusted her hips forward in need of some friction, her heated core brushing against his bulge.
Pulling apart for a second, Jensen’s viridian eyes studied her as his hands sneaked under her skirt. He watched her intently as she sucked on her bottom lip, closing her eyes when his fingers grazed past her soakedpanties.
A moan escaped her wet lips when Jensen's fingers hooked themselves with the waistband and in one swift pull, got rid of the panties. It quickly glided down her legs, pooling at her feet. He teased her by flicking at her bundle of nerves, making her lean her head back against the wall.
Y/N swayed on her feet a little, her hold on his shoulders tightening as she finally felt her legs give away when his fingers rubbed circles on her clit.
“Fuck-” she panted as he pushed a single finger inside her.
“Have you been thinkin’ about me all day?” Jensen leaned towards her ears, his scruff grazing across her neck. Y/N nodded, not trusting her voice, eyes still squeezed shut in sheer ecstasy.
“Sweetheart, use your words.” He ordered as his finger curled inside her.
“Yeah-fuck, yes.” Jensen kissed below her ear, smirking against her skin when she obediently answered him.
“I have been thinkin’ about you too, counting down the hours till I could get you alone.” He whispered against her neck. She mewled at the feeling of him adding another finger, his thick digits stretching her out as they curled inside her. “That little dress wasn't helping either.”
“Uh-huh,” she could feel the coil inside her tightening as his finger worked their way inside her, his thumb rubbing at her folds and clit, edging her on.
“I have thinkin’ all day about you clenching around my fingers and then my cock-” his words had an immediate effect as she clenched around his fingers as he kept pumping into her, “you've thinkin’ about that too, huh?” Y/N nodded again.
“What did I say? Words.” His other hand travelled down her body, stopping at her stomach and he pinched at her waist. “Words, baby.”
“I-I have been thinki-” Y/N panted when she realised she was close to her climax. Jensen picked up his pace and pumped his fingers faster into her, brushing past her g-spot over and over again.
When you hear me moaning and groaning, baby,
You know it hurts me deep down inside
When you hear me moaning and groaning, baby,
You know it hurts me deep down inside
Oh, when you hear me, honey, baby,
You know you're my one desire
“Lemme say it, sweetheart. I know you've been thinking how I would make you come on my fingers, how my dick is gonna fill you up, make you come all over me. Don't lie.” Jensen's every assumption was right to the dot. She had been thinking of everything to the last detail since the moment she watched him get out of his car, right outside of the convention building. But there was another thought on her mind, the image of him pushing her against one of the counters of his empty brewery a few weeks ago with him buried deep inside her.
That was the last she had seen Jensen before the convention as he had gone back home to his wife.
His wife.
The one woman he had promised to be with in sickness and health, till death do them apart. Guilt clouded Y/N’s mind but all rational thoughts flew out of the window when he lowered his head, kissing the neck and the coil inside her finally snapped.
With a cry of his name, she came undone on his fingers, her legs finally giving away but Jensen's hold prevented her from toppling over. He pulled his fingers out as she whimpered at the feeling. His digits still covered in her juices, Jensen pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere in the room. Y/N panted, trying to come down from the high but she wanted more. She needed to feel him.
“Y/N-” Jensen rasped, looking right at her with lust blown eyes. Y/N smacked her lips at the sight of his freckled, toned body.
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He smirked as Y/N eagerly reached out for his belt buckle.
“Uh-huh.” She agreed. Jensen bit back a moan when she reached out to palm his bulge. He threw his head back at the feeling of her hand on his erection through his jeans.
“It has been weeks-” Jensen said, clearly hinting at their last time together at the brewery. He quickly unbuckled his belt, pushing down his jeans along with his boxers, his erection springing free from its confines.
“Baby, it has been weeks since I felt your tight pussy wrapped around me. Fuck.” Y/N looked at him with hooded eyes and wrapped her fingers around his length, running her palm along its shaft and her thumb rubbed the tip of his cock, already lined with beads of precum. Jensen hiked her skirt up, pushing her hands away and gave his hard cock a few slow strokes. He nudged her sensitive core with his swollen tip, all while pulling out sweet, sinful noises out of her.
“Jay,” he loved hearing her needy moans, her voice raspy when she called out his name. His hands grabbed her ass and picked her up. Hooking her legs and arms behind him, with her back still firmly pushed up against the wall, Jensen lined himself with at her entrance.
Grunting, he pushed himself into her and wrapped his arms around her body. Y/N’s mouth fell open with an inaudible moan at the feeling of his cock stretching her out. Jensen placed a chaste kiss on her lips as he let her adjust to his size before slowly pulling out of her, leaving only the tip of his engorged cock inside, and pushed back in again, much deeper than before.
Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him close as she bucked up her hips to match his rhythm. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” Jensen grunted as he started to thrust faster.
Y/N whimpered, her eyes fluttering close as Jensen snapped his hips forward before slowly drawing them back. With every thrust, she inched closer to her release as their breathing became ragged. The actor’s skin was flushed, his cheeks turning a bright red with beads of sweat lining his forehead as he felt her clench around her. Her nails dug into his back as the coil inside her tightened.
“‘M so close,” she whispered, as he continued to mercilessly pound into her.
“Cum around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you all over me-” Jensen growled into her ears, tugging on her earlobes with his teeth and his breath tickled her neck, making her quiver. Jensen had an effect on her that no one ever had. Sometimes, she would say to herself that Millie was a really lucky woman who got to have Jensen all the time and not just on convention weekends and sneaky nights spent in his empty brewery or a trailer park.
And Y/N was the one who was ruining their relationship. A home-wrecker. The tabloids would rightfully call her that if they ever found out about their twisted relationship.
“Jensen, fuck-” a cry of pure ecstasy left her lips as the coil inside her snapped once more and she felt herself coming undone for the second time that night. Jensen's thrust had become sloppy. He rocked his hips forward, thrusting a few more times. Burying his face in the crook of her neck a muffled scream of her name escaped his lips as he spilled into her, his white, hot seed coating her walls.
He lazily circled his hips a few times, his cock becoming soft inside her before he pulled out of her. His cum trickled down her leg, when he set her down, Y/N felt herself go weak in her knees when she tried to stand.
“Hi,” Jensen smiled, their eyes meeting, before he leaned forward.
“Hi.” Y/N whispered back. They stood together, holding each other closely with their foreheads touching. Guilt seeped into her and so did despair but she didn't regret any moment they spent together.
“Let me clean up the mess,” Jensen said.
“I'm gonna hop into the shower.” She said, holding out the hope that he would join her but he didn't.
“Alright.” It was all he said. Dejected, she pulled away from him and made her way towards the shower. All she wanted was to spend every single minute with him before he went back to his room to keep up the facade of his happily married life.
In the shower, Y/N thought about the day she had first met Jensen when she was a newbie on the set and reflected back on their rollercoaster of a relationship. There was an instant connection between them. Jensen was always such a gentleman. He truly cared for her, but love... she didn't know if even the idea of love existed between them or if she was just an affair.
She stepped out of the bathroom and saw that Jensen was now In his boxers. He gave her a nod and moved past her into the bathroom. A sad smile formed on her lips as she watched him walk away. She put on a comfortable pair of pjs and crawled into the bed, under the covers, waiting for the exact moment when Jensen stepped out of the bathroom and put on his clothes. And just like every other time, she would watch him leave after he kissed her forehead and told her he doesn't have a choice.
This time though, it was going to be different.
Y/N didn't want Jensen to leave, neither did she want to watch him go so she squeezed her eyes shut, adamant of not responding when he walked up to her.
She flinched when he heard the bathroom door shut. She counted down the minutes till the goodbye kiss but instead she felt the other side of the bed dip down with a familiar weight. Opening her eyes, she felt his hand wrapping around her waist. Jensen was in her bed. She turned to face him.
He was breathing slowly. His long lashes rested against his cheek and his freckled face reflected the look of absolute contentment.
Said you know I love you baby
My love for you I could never hide
Oh, you know I love you baby
My love for you I could never hide
Oh when I feel you near me little girl
I know you are my one desire
“You're staring.” He whispered.
“You're staying.” She replied back, making his beautiful eyes flutter open.
Pursing his lips together, he said, “Do you not want me to?”
“No-I mean, yes. Stay…But, what about Jared?”
“What about him?” He scrunched up his face in confusion.
“What if he finds out about us?” Y/N asked as she panicked. Hiding this relationship from Jared was the hardest task. He was like a brother to Jensen so he didn't want to lie to him but it was important to keep him in the shadows.
“Let him find out. I don't care anymore-”
“Jensen!” Y/N exclaimed. She didn't understand what was going on in his mind.
“It's okay, Y/N.” He said.
“How is it okay?”
“Millie and I are over. I finally ended it.”
Her mouth fell open in complete surprise. Of everything she had expected, this was the last thing she was anticipating to hear. “Our relationship was long dead anyway. We have separated. I'm filing for a divorce once I go back home this week.” Y/N would lie if she said that the thought of him choosing her over his wife had never crossed her mind.
“It's all because of me, isn't it-”
“No. No, sweetheart. We were already over even before I met you. I was just too scared to admit it to myself but then I met a girl, we talked. It was epic and the thought of losing her scared me more than anything else.” Jensen caressed her cheek, a gentle smile gracing his lips. He felt a burden being lifted from his shoulders. He could finally be with the woman he truly loved.
“Does this mean no more hiding?” She said, tears pooled in her eyes. Y/N needed to hear him say it now that she could shout it from the rooftops Jensen belonged to her, and she to him.
“Being with you made me realise what I was missing. All this while, I wasted my time trying to work on a dead relationship when I should have realised sooner that it was a lost case. That you are the one I want 'cause baby, I can't quit you. Millie and I would have never worked out no matter how many couple’s therapy we went to….I have never regretted a single moment I have spent with you. I love what we have. I love you.” Her breath hitched in her throat as she took in everything he said. Her mind was reeling from his sudden declaration. A single tear rolled down her cheek, as the corners of her lips tugged up, forming a smile but she was too overwhelmed to say anything, which Jensen took the wrong way and it scared him.
“Y/N-” his smile disappeared as his hand dropped from her cheeks, “I want you to be mine. Will you be mine?” Y/N immediately moved towards him. Her hands raked through his soft hair before she pulled him in for a longing kiss.
“I didn't even realise when I became yours but I know it happened at some point, Jay. I love you so much.” Y/N said. With smiles and their eyes sparkling with newfound happiness, they stayed in bed as Y/N nuzzled into his side. Jensen's warm hands were wrapped around her and she smiled against his chest. For the first time, the fear of losing Jensen didn't cross her mind because she knew he would stay with her that night and all that would follow. She was going to wake up with him by her side and didn't have to sneak behind anyone's back anymore.
She was happy and in love and so was Jensen.
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mastrmiscellaneous · 3 years
Text
Son of Smintheus, Daughter of the Forge
Description: It is an average day at the beginning of summer, 2008, until some old nightmares return, with a vengeance.
in other words, two new demigod are introduced to their new reality.
Word count: 6805
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Justin and Lucille Peters were never exactly ones to fit in well with their peers. They always felt different for so many reasons, including their family type, especially for where they lived, a small town outside St Cloud, Minnesota. All they had was each other and their mother, a wonderful woman who made instruments for a living. What made that worse for his family was that Justin and Lucille looked incredibly different, due to their different fathers. Justin was pale and blond, his hair the colour of pure gold, with shining, icy blue eyes, whereas Lucille had darker skin, as if she spent every minute of her life outside, which was far from the truth, with copper brown eyes and bronze coloured hair. Neither of them looked like their mother all that much physically, but it was clear with how they held themselves. The three of them were calm and confident, always wore a smile, and were very people oriented.
However, they still had their problems. Justin had terrible dyslexia, and had a reputation around his peers that he was cursed. You see, people seem to get very sick, very quickly if they upset him. Sometimes it was just throwing up for a few days. other times it was so much worse. obviously, nothing could be traced back to him, so his journey through school was rather simple, but he was always alone, for the safety of others. Sometimes he felt like the curse was real. Luckily, he always had his family. Lucille loved her brother, always wanting to play, and just enjoyed being in his presence. He kept her calm, and made her feel safe, which was rare for her, as she had ADHD, and had a terrible case of red-green colour-blindness. This led to a lot of bullying from her peers, due to her awkward nature and easy confusion when it came to colour. But their mother always offered comfort, and they always had the friendship between them, so they were perfectly happy.
That was, until the first week of summer, when a strange creature appeared, throwing their lives out of balance forever.
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Justin woke to the sound of his mother knocking on his bedroom door and calling for him to wake up.
“Justin! It’s ten o’clock, wake up!” Sounded her melodic voice. despite the rush in her voice, she still sounded sweet.
“Ok, mom!” Justin called back through a yawn. He sat up and stretched, rolling out of bed, and quickly changed out of his pyjamas and into a pair of blue jeans, a grey t-shirt, and his favourite blue jacket. Stretching and flexing his muscles, Justin trudged down the stairs to the kitchen, where he found his mother, Diana, and his sister, Lucille, siting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Lucille seemed distracted, as always, fiddling with some cuttings of the E-string of a guitar, paper clips, and buttons between bites. Despite the fact she was joyfully playing with her materials, she looked tense, her movements stiff and little shoulders squared. Her copper eyes kept darting towards the window, as if she were expecting someone to be peering in through the window.
“Morning, sleepy head!” Diana teased as Justin emerged from the corridor. He grabbed a glass and poured himself some juice, them prepared himself some toast for breakfast.
“Morning, mom. Hey Lucille!”
The 8-year-old looked up, just realising her brother had arrived, and smiled wide, immediately bouncing on her seat and greeting. She was definitely the morning person between the two. The tree shared pleasant conversation, Justin attempting to wake up quickly, as they were going to be working in Diana’s shop that day.
Diana owned a music shop, selling, making, and repairing instruments of all kinds, and sometimes teaching music. The siblings loved working in the shop, but they had very different reasons for it. Justin loved the music side of it, practicing on the instruments, making sure everything was tuned perfectly, and helping with researching the types and makes of instruments they sold. Lucille, on the other hand, liked the making and repair of instruments. Lucille, despite her young age, is a master with tools, and knows exactly what to do to fix even the worst of damaged goods, making it seem as if brand new. Lucille was a good musician in her own right, but simply preferred the construction of it all. She struggled a little with finding the specific tools she needed, as she was colour-blind, with protanopia to be specific, so struggled to differentiate between the tools, as they were colour coded, so her and Diana had come up with a system and ordered the tools in a very specific way, so they could find everything easily. Everything was in order, and everything had it’s place.
The three of them finished with their breakfast and were fully dressed and ready to leave, out of the door and starting their small walk to the main street of their small town, when Lucille started getting squirmy and clingy. She was grumbling and gripping her mother’s hand tighter than usual, pulling on her sweater with her other hand, and looking around frantically.
“Are you ok, Lucy?” Justin asked, trying to follow her eyes, but they changed direction constantly, so that was pretty much impossible. Lucille replied with a simple concerned groan, and quickly turning her head towards the woods on the other side of the road, nuzzling closer to her mother as they walked.
“What’s wrong honey?” Diana asked, slowing down and kneeling down. The older two believed she was either under or over stimulated, that happened a lot, but the girl was not acting how she normally did. Instead, she appeared... fearful?
“Hear something...” She mumbled, slipping her hands into her sleeves for protection.
Diana sighed and brushed a lock of hair out of Lucille’s eyes. “Honey, there’s nothing dangerous around, trust me. I know you’re on edge because of your nightmare, but you’re safe with me. I’ll always protect you.”
Lucille glanced at the wooded area one more time, but returned her gaze to her mother, who offered her a comforting look. Justin followed Lucille’s stare, just to see if his sister was just being paranoid. He inhaled sharply when, for the quickest second, he locked eyes with a woman, pale as fresh winter snow, with sleek black hair, hiding in the bushes on the edge of the woods. As quickly as Justin spotted the woman, she disappeared, almost as if she dissolved into the shadows.
“Right Justin?” Diana snapped her son out of his daze. “We’d never let anyone take your sister, right?”
“Um, yeah, of course!” Justin smiled down at Lucille, who’s nerves had seemingly fizzled out, as she looked up at her brother with hope. Justin puffed his chest out and put on a brave face, making her laugh. “I will always save you, dear sister!”
Lucille laughed and smiled at her brother, comforted by his protectiveness.
“Alright, not that that’s settled,” Diana stood and took Lucille’s hand. “Let’s get to the shop, we open pretty soon!”
 ----------------------------------------
The trio spent the day doing average shop work, occasionally seeing to a customer and their needs. Lucille was in the back room, happily fiddling with a broken stand that usually holds about eight guitars. It had been knocked over accidentally by a customer a few days prior, damaging the joints and hooks, so Lucille had a perfectly stimulating job to do for a few hours. Her neatly ordered tools were sitting on her workbench, ordered by type and size. Justin was busy tuning the string instruments that had just been delivered, preparing them to be displayed and sold. Diana was logging the shipment into their system and tying labels with a description, barcode, and price on them. All was good, and all was peaceful.
After a few hours of working, a woman walked into the shop and looks around. She consistently glanced at Justin, who was carefully watching her, trying to think of where he knew her from. She was strangely dressed, wearing a long flowing, silk dress, shining a dark green. That would be fine on it’s own, but she had matched it with a deep purple velvet cloak that trailed down to her ankles, with long, flowing sleeves, and a long pointed hood. She had thin, sleek hair, as dark as the night sky, greased back tight. Her pale skin could be matched with a piece of paper. Her chin was pointed to an abnormal extent, the bridge of her nose wide, reminding Justin of the snout of a cat, and her black eyes were sunken into her head.
Diana finished logging a particular shipment of Benson guitars, and went into the back room to check on Lucille, leaving Justin alone with the strange woman. She saw her chance as the other adult left and she approached the boy.
“Hello, Justin...” Her voice was quiet and raspy, she spoke with an abnormally large and toothy smile, her canines scarily long and sharp.
How did she know his name? Justin was certain he would remember that face. She was certainly familiar, but he could not place it for the life of him.
“Who –”
“My name is Mormo...” The woman hissed, her smile never faltering. Justin stepped back from the counter as she leant over it. Her gnarled, clawed hands gripped the counter tight, her nails digging into the wood and permanently scratching it. “I met you when you were young...”
That’s it. When Justin was eight, he dreamt about a woman with a cat like face and gnarled hands, who would lean over his bed late at night, whispering about him coming with her, how he would have fun with her. She would take him to her world, she would tell him. Luckily, she would disappear every time he called for his mom.
“Mom!” Justin yelled through the shop, panic striking though his voice. He never broke eye contact. He didn’t think he could. The woman recoiled as he shouted, shooting her stare at the door, as Diana rushed through, Lucille close behind. At the sight of the little girl, Mormo’s smile returned, showing off her vampiric fangs. Lucille squeaked and stumbled back, fear enveloping her face. Diana rushed forward towards the counter and pushed Justin behind her with one hand, and placing the other under the counter, seemingly reaching for something.
“You!” Diana raged, her normally melodic voice gruff and furious. “Get away from my children!”
Mormo growled and hissed. “They are wanted by the titan! They belong to him!”
Diana grabbed what she was looking for and lunged over the counter, tackling the creature and pushing her into a line of keyboards, knocking them all over and pinning her to the floor, holding a bronze pointed dagger to her throat. The beast shrieked and, deafening the two children, and thrashed on the ground, kicking and clawing at Diana. She finally gripped the back of Diana’s polo, digging her claws into her back. Diana called out in pain, but kept her form well enough to keep the monster on the floor, away from her children.
“The titan king has called for them! He will receive them, whether you like it or not!”
Mormo dug her claws in deeper and ripped Diana off her, throwing her to the side. Diana hit the wall with a crash, making the bass guitars displayed on the wall crash to the floor, and she dropped the dagger as she slumped to the ground. Mormo rolled to the side and crouched like a cornered animal, hissing at Diana, then stood, slowly, her too-wide smile returning, this time aimed at Lucille, who was half hiding behind the doorframe.
Hell. No.
Justin meant what he said earlier that day. No one was going to hurt his sister on his watch. He let his instincts take over, and vaulted the counter, landing beside his mother, grabbing the dagger and turned towards the creature. Mormo had leapt towards the door with clear intent, but Justin was surprisingly quick. He trusted his instincts, reaching out with his left hand, tensing his fingers into a clawed shape, imagining the pain he wanted to inflict on the creature who hurt his mom and threatened his sister. No one hurts his family. The creature dropped to the floor, choking on air as she kicked and scratched at the floor. Her mouth started to fill with a thick, lumpy, golden liquid, and her eyes started to stream with tears. These tears turned to gold as the creature writhed in pain, choking on her golden liquid, her coughs spraying the liquid across the room. His right hand held the dagger. Before he could think, he marched towards the woman and thrust the weapon down towards her face, stabbing the blade through her piecing black eye.
With a deafening shriek, the monster reached out with her claw and scratched Justin’s bicep. Before his eyes, his old nightmare crumpled to ash, leaving a thick coat of grey on the carpet floor, partially covered by the velvet cloak. Justin’s breath was deep and rapid. His hands shook at what he had just done, and he dropped the dagger in the dust.
“Justin?” The quiet voice of Lucille echoed from the doorway, as she peered out. Her lower lip was shaking, and tears were filling her eyes.
“Lucy... Come here, it’s ok!” He reassured, opening his arms for a hug, and she rushed into the embrace. “We’re ok. I wont let anything hurt you.”
The children heard shuffling behind them and the turned to see their mother shuffling to her feet.
“Mom!” The two cried, rushing towards her. Justin helped her up and guided her to a stool. Lucille sat beside her, hugging her and crying into her side. Diana comforted her daughter, stroking her short bronze hair, muttering comforts to her. Justin rushed into the back room and grabbed the first aid kit, offering to clean the wounds on her back. Diana agreed, trusting her son more than most would expect, but told him to put up the closed sign and put the window cover down so customers would not see. She removed her shirt and hugged her daughter close, wincing at the sensation of the cleansing alcohol whilst comforting her daughter. Justin dressed the wound, it was relatively long, but shallow, so no need for medical intervention, and Diana put her shirt back on. Lucille had stopped crying, but not it was Justin’s turn to be emotional. However, crying was not his response.
“What in the world was that?” He yelled, his voice cracking mid sentence.
“That was Mormo, an Empousa.” Diana sighed sadly.
“Im sorry, what?”
“A creature from ancient Greece. She’s been after the two of you for a long time.” Diana was avoiding eye contact with her children. “Both of your fathers told me she would be.”
“What are you talking about?” Justin’s voice cracked in desperation. Lucille looked between her family members, fear in her copper eyes, her gloved hands gripping her sweater tight. “Our fathers? Ancient Greece? Mom, what are you not telling us?”
“You two are special in some very specific ways. It’s your fathers’ doing. I knew it would happen eventually, but I hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.”
“Mom...”
“We have to go home. You two need to pack. I’m taking you somewhere safe.”
 -------------------------------------
After two hours of packing the bare essentials into duffle bags. Justin packed spare shirts, another jacket, jeans, shorts, and pjs, along with his pan flute, a notebook, and his wallet. Lucille packed the same amount of clothes, along with a notebook of her own, some tools, and stray materials to make things with. They both grabbed a blanket, and Lucille took her teddy bear, hugging it close to her chest as she watched her mom pace around the room. As Justin lugged the bags to the car, Diana made a phone call. She spoke in a hushed tone, sounding panicked and upset the whole time. The call lasted about ten minutes. Once she was done, she called the children to the car and they set of on a long journey.
The mysterious trip took all night and all day. Lucille slept with her head on Justin’s lap the whole night, and a good way into the morning. Justin barely slept. He tried to engage is mother in conversation, but she refused to explain what was happening.
“All I can say is it has to do with your fathers…”
That is the only explanation she could muster. Her voice cracked as she spoke, Justin knew not to probe deeper. Therefore, he decided to play with Lucille’s short hair to distract himself, making her nuzzle into his lap and groan a little. The little 8-year-old never failed to make him smile. For the rest of the trip, Justin fell in a chasm between being asleep and being awake. This was not a fun trip at all.
 -------------------------------------------
“Mom, where are we?” Justin asked. He looked around the area they had stopped. It was a small clearing in the thick pine woods just off the main road, at the bottom of a tall hill. Justin adjusted the straps of his backpack to fit better on his shoulders as his heart started to flutter with nerves. His mother was making sure Lucille was fully awake, and tying her shoes. The little girl looked very scared, hunched over, and hugging her teddy close to her chest. Justin locked eyes with his sister, her copper eyes starting to fill with fearful tears. Diana looked up at her daughter, noticed the tears, and quickly wiped them away, whispering comforts to Lucille as she pulled her out of the car.
“We’re meeting a friend of your fathers. Both of them. He will help you with the recent… problem…” She sounded extremely apprehensive. She squeezed Lucille’s hand and pulled Justin close to her.
“You mean the monster?” Lucille squeaked, hiding her face into her bear. Diana breathed sharply and forced a smile.
“Yes honey. I mean the monster.”
“Mom, we’re in the middle of the woods! There’s nothing around here!”
“We just have to climb that hill. That is where he said to meet him.”
All Justin could think was ‘Is my mom sending us to our deaths?’. She was being so cryptic, nothing like her normal chipper self. She was stiff, constantly looking around. Justin swore he could see tears starting to fill her eyes as she pulled Lucille out of the car. She took her daughter by the hand and put a hand on Justin’s shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
They climbed the hill, Justin carrying his duffle, Diana carrying Lucille’s, slightly slipped off her shoulder to avoid the wound on her back. The short hike uphill was quiet, only filled by the sounds of the forest, and the laboured breath of the three. They stopped at the peak of the hill, next to a giant pine tree with a golden fur laying at the base, and stood at the base of a wooden arch, with writing carved into the banner. It appeared to be in Ancient Greek, but for some reason, Justin could read it clearly.
Camp Half-Blood...
“Miss Peters! You have arrived!” A man’s voice sounded from a few feet away, making Justin turn. He jumped at the sight of the man. Well, half man. Before him was a pure white stallion, but where the head was supposed to be, there was the torso of a man with shoulder length curly hair and a thick, neatly trimmed beard. “Thank the gods you are all safe.”
“Well, I’d like to keep it that way. If only I could wait...” Diana responded. She was definitely tearing up now.
“You do not have to worry. Your children will be safe here.” The half-man looked between the children, who were staring at him in utter awe. “You must be Justin and Lucille! It is a pleasure to meet you!”
Justin just continued to stare, clear shock on his face as his icy eyes glanced up and down between the two halves of the man. Lucille spoke up.
“What are you?” She spoke with fascination in her voice, slightly bouncing on her feet. The man chuckled and the horse half leant down on it’s front legs.
“I am a centaur, young hero. Half man, half horse.” He smiled a kind smile, He reminded Justin on a wise grandfather. “My name is Chiron. I’m going to keep you safe for a little while in my camp.”
The centaur and three humans conversed for a while, explaining what exactly was happening. Apparently, the Greek myths were real, and their fathers were not just deadbeats, but they were deadbeat gods! Not only that, but this was a camp meant just for kids like them, other children with a godly parent, Demigods. Their mother was going to leave them here for the summer, she would come back for them in late August. Here, they would train to defend themselves against monsters, like Mormo.
Justin and Lucille were wanted by an evil group of people for some unknown reason. Chiron guessed they were particularly powerful. He said he could sense it. That power was desired by someone named Chronos. That was apparently a terrible thing.
This is the summer that changed their lives forever.
 -----------------------------------------
Diana left her children in the care of Chiron, tearfully saying goodbye to them, and staying at the top of the hill waving them off. Lucille was holding her bear close to her chest, and Justin was gripping her hand with intense strength. Not enough to hurt her, but it was tense. Chiron took them to a large wooden house, and sat them down on a soft, long couch and continued their chat, introducing them to the crazy world they now lived in. Lucille was cuddled into Justin’s side, mostly staying quiet, but occasionally making noise if Chiron made her laugh. Justin was far more serious, keeping a level head. He needed to, or he’d break.
This took all afternoon. The two new demigods were hungry. Luckily, it was close to dinner time now. Chiron had called for an older camper, a boy named Conner Stoll, who was apparently the Head Councellor of the Hermes cabin, where the children of Hermes, the children of minor gods, and the unclaimed kids stayed. Conner introduced himself and took them to the mess hall to meet the rest of the cabin residents.
Justin perched on the end of the crowded table, with Lucille practically sitting on his lap, their meals left untouched in front of them. Justin tried to converse with Conner and Travis Stoll, but there were so many interruptions from the rest of the table that conversation was essentially impossible. Instead, he focused his attention on Lucille. She was nuzzled into his side, quietly playing with a piece of wire she had in her pocket. Justin tried to engage her in conversation, asking about what she wanted to do with her wire, but she could not speak to him. She missed their mom. As did he.
After an hour, the siblings had managed to eat half of their plates, Justin almost forcing food down his sister’s throat so she would not be hungry in the middle of the night. The centaur, Chiron, cleared his throat and dismissed the demigods to the amphitheatre for a sing a long and campfire. That made the siblings perk up a little, Justin liked to sing, and Lucille liked campfires. The atmosphere that announcement brought was full and exciting, which made them more excited as clearly that meant this campfire was going to be fun. Justin took Lucille by the hand when the Hermes table stood and they followed the other campers through the dim evening light towards a classic style, three quarter circle amphitheatre with a large bonfire in the middle, waiting to be lit. as the campers entered the arena, laughing and joking about with each other, the pile of wood burst into flames, a bright yellow and orange colour, quickly growing larger the more campers entered the theatre.
“The fire is controlled by surrounding people’s moods.” Justin’s thoughts were interrupted by the feminine voice of a camper Justin did not recognise. She was beautiful, to say the least. With dark hair, shining brown in the fire’s light, and eyes that were an unrecognisable colour, switching between blue and brown with every flicker of the flames, Justin struggled to think of how he would describe her to people. “The happier the camp is, the bigger and brighter the flames. I’m Silena, Counsellor of the Aphrodite cabin.”
“Urm,” Well done Justin. He snapped back into reality when he felt Lucille pull down on his hand, the way their mom had taught them to do when they needed to snap Lucille back into reality. He finally found his voice and responded. “I’m Justin. This is my sister, Lucille.”
“Well, hello there, Lucille!” Silena’s perky voice made Lucille smile properly for the first time that day. Justin silently thanked the gods that apparently existed for that smile. “And hello Justin. Do you know who your godly parent is?”
“All I know is they’re different guys.” Justin shrugged. “Mom never told us about them.”
“She probably doesn’t know herself, sadly.” She sighed slightly, but her smile never faltered. “It happens a lot. Don’t worry, I have a feeling you’ll get claimed pretty quick.”
At that, the trio turned to the voices of several people, Silena was being called by her cabin, and the siblings were being called by Conner. They bid their goodbyes and went to sit with their cabins. Chiron and Dionysus stood in front of the fire and greeted the campers. Chiron continued to speak, talking about the events of the week. Justin was not really paying attention, he was too focused on holding his sister close to his side, and scanning the pavilion, trying to see where they would fit in. The campers were sitting in eight groups, all with incredible similarities. It was all very overwhelming. What made it worse was when he heard his name.
Chiron’s speech had ended with him acknowledging the two newest campers, which sadly were him and Lucille. Lucille hid in Justin’s arm, and Justin smiled awkwardly, waving a little, as the campers all turned to look at them. Many of the girls cooed at the image of the small girl hiding in her brother’s arm. The boys chuckled a bit at Justin’s awkward behaviour.
“Justin and Lucille Peters, our newest campers, came to us earlier today, escorted by their mother. Let us pray for a quick claiming for the two of you!”
Once Chiron had finished his speech, the sing-along started, orchestrated by the Apollo cabin. it lasted for a long time; it was pitch black by the time they were to go back to their cabins to sleep. Lucille was drifting off by this time, and was leaning on Justin as they stood to walk back to the cabins. the crowd was bustling and thick. That is why it was so obvious when it stopped, and everyone stared at Justin. He was confused at first, not noticing what was happening since he was concentrating on his sister, but he quickly realised there was a bright yellow glow shining above his head. He looked up, seeing an apparition floating above his head.
“What the—” He muttered, then looked around for an explanation. Chiron was the one to give him one.
“Well, it looks like half our prayers have been answered!” He smiled and clapped his hands together. “Praise Justin, Son of Apollo!”
A cheer erupted from the crowd. Justin just squeezed Lucille’s hand. He knew this meant their first night away from their home would be spent separated from each other. How fun.
 -------------------------------------------
After collecting Justin’s belongings from his spot on the floor, he was escorted out of the Hermes cabin to be taken to the Apollo cabin by the counsellor, Lee Fletcher. Lucille was next to him, looking extremely anxious and upset. Justin hitched his bag over his shoulder and went to stand up, but was lightly tackled by Lucille before he could. She whimpered into his shirt, her shoulders shaking as she hugged him as tight as she could.
Justin was to collect his items and be escorted to the Apollo cabin by their counsellor, Lee Fletcher. He was struggling, as Lucille had caught on to what was happening, and was not letting him. She was attached to his side, seemingly attempting to stop him from moving. The rest of the cabin avoided looking at the scene. The demigods are used to heartbreak, they are used to untimely death, but watching this scared little girl be separated from the only person she knew, from her brother, this was truly heart-breaking.
Justin finished grabbing his things and flung his bag over his shoulder. He attempted to stand, but Lucille is surprisingly strong for an eight year old. It helped her case that Justin did not want to leave her. But sadly, he had to. You have to sleep in your godly parent’s cabin once you’re claimed. Justin couldn’t help but think this was a dumb rule.
“Come on, Lucy, I have to go...” He muttered, half-heartedly.
“No.” Lucille hid her face, holding on to him tighter. Justin leg his shoulders sag and he crouched down, pulling her into a tight, enclosed hug. She almost disappeared in his embrace. He held the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her short hair.
“I’m sorry Lucy, I have to go. Trust me, I don’t want to, but I have to.” He sighed and pulled a way, wiped escaped tears from her eyes, forcing the kindest smile he could. “Don’t worry, I’m only two cabins down, and ill see you in the morning!”
“Promise?” She said quietly.
“I promise.” He gestured vaguely to the other people in the room. “While I’m gone, you gotta trust these people, they’ll make sure you’re ok. They’ll keep you safe.”
“Justin, you coming?” The voice of Conner Stoll echoed from the door. Justin called back he’d be a second, then pulled Lucille into another hug, kissed her forehead, and said goodnight. As he stood, Lucille whimpered.
“I love you...”
“I love you too, Lucy.”
And off Justin went, escorted to the Apollo cabin to spend his first night away from his mother separated from his scared little sister, and in a cabin with a group of other kids just like him. He did not sleep well. He was too worried about Lucille.
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Lucille watched as her brother left the cabin. As soon Conner closed the door, tears started to flow out of her copper eyes. As she started to cry, She felt a hand on her shoulder, and heard shuffling at her side. She looked up, and locked eyes with a girl about the same age as Justin, with tanned, mocha skin, icy blue eyes, and what Lucille safely presumed was deep brown hair. Her colour-blindness at least let her see dark brown properly. She looked kind, soft, comforting eyes staring at Lucille as the little girl let some tears flow.
“Hey, I’m Clara.” The girl introduced herself. Her voice was calm and sweet, deeper than expected coming from her small, slim frame. She had an accent Lucille could not place, all she knew was that it was not totally American. “It’s Lucille right?”
Lucille nodded, sniffing and wiping her eyes.
“Nice to meet you.” She said, followed with a sigh. “I know it’s scary being her all alone, but you’re safe her. Why don’t you come with me, me and another new kid are gonna play a game before bed. Wanna join?”
Lucille nodded and followed Clara to sit with a boy with shaggy black hair and shining dark eyes. They played a card game called MythoMagic for a while, Lucille struggled a bit, as the attacks were organised by colour, and well, being colour blind is so fun, but she memorised the order they went in. The trio had some fun before sleeping soundly. Lucille found that Justin had left his Jacket on her bed roll. She slept curled up, covered by her brother’s jacket.
 -------------------------------------
The next day, Justin arose to a room that appeared to be glowing in the morning light. The sudden change from darkness to light hurt his eyes, the room appeared to be glowing in the morning light. Whether that was because of the bright white and yellow paint covering the walls and furniture, or because the building was actually glowing, he could not tell. He would not put it past this camp to have glowing buildings. He swore the silver cabin across the courtyard (Artemis’ cabin maybe?) was glowing last night.
“Wakey wakey newbie!” Lee Fletcher bounced up to Justin’s bedside, far too happy for this early in the morning. “Breakfast is soon, and I have to show you around the camp today!”
Justin grunted and gave Lee a thumbs up in acknowledgement.
“Not a morning person, huh? Good luck with that.”
At that, Lee went off to get dressed himself. Justin took another then minutes to get himself up, only encouraged by the thought of greeting Lucille. He pulled on an orange camp tshirt and blue basketball shorts, with blue canvas shirts. It wasn’t long until it was time to march their way down to the mess hall for breakfast, and for Justin to see if his sister was ok.
 -----------------------------------
Lucille was woken up by the girl from the night before, Clara. She was told to get dressed, as breakfast would be soon, and Clara gave her a small tshirt coloured a strange greyish yellow, with the words Camp Half Blood on it. The residents of the Hermes cabin got dressed and slowly filtered out to the mess hall, Clara waiting for Lucille as their cabin mates passed them. Lucille was slow, still tired from her late night, and it showed. She was yawning constantly, and her eyes were drooping.
“Hey Lucille, you gotta hurry, we’ll be late to breakfast.” Clara was hungry, but remained calm with the little girl. She knows how she feels, Clara had come to camp alone the year prior. Being young and coming to terms with staying here is daunting. She looked out of the window and smiled as she saw a familiar blonde haired boy exiting the Apollo cabin. “Justin’s outside, we should go meet him before eating!”
That made Lucille perk up. She rushed to put on her shoes, messing up the laces and needing Clara to fix them before they left. Lucille rushed outside and ran to her brother, who had waited outside to greet her. They shared a strong embrace and spoke quietly to each other, Clara waiting behind Lucille as she they caught up. Clara zoned out to give them privacy, focusing on the bustling crowd of campers wandering to the mess hall, until her heard her name being said by the little girl.
“She did, did she?” Justin looked up to her and smiled. Noticing she had zoned out and didn’t hear them, he elaborated. “You comforted her last night?”
“Naí, of course.” Her accent caught Justin off guard. She sounded vaguely European to him, but he could not place it 100%. “I’m not exactly going to let a little one suffer. I’m Clara Ostá, unclaimed.”
“Great to meet you.” Justin stood and smiled at Clara.
The trio wandered to the mess hall, Justin joining his godly siblings at their table, promising to meet up with the girls after his tour of the camp. Clara promised to look after Lucille. Breakfast lasted for an hour and a half. Chiron made an announcement before the campers were allowed to leave and go on with their day, basically explaining that there was something new in the lake, and the heads of the Ares and Athena cabins must come to speak to him. After that, he motioned for them to leave, but everyone stopped suddenly when a red light appeared above Lucille’s head. Lucille looked extremely confused, the red light appearing a dark yellow and blending in with the yellow sunlight, so was near invisible to her. The symbol within the light was a flaming hammer, which apparently shocked one of the tables, as they muttered between each other about her being so small. Chiron broke the silence the same way he did last night with Justin.
“What a pleasant start to the day! Praise Lucille, daughter of Hephaestus!”
The campers clapped for Lucille, the table that was muttering cheered. They must be children of Hephaestus too. As the campers dispersed, a tall, muscular kid, several years older than Justin, walked over to Lucille and introduced himself as Beckendorf, the Head Counsellor of the Hephaestus cabin, and her eldest brother on their dad’s side. Justin, along with Lee Fletcher, walked over to the pair, and Justin immediately congratulated her for being claimed. After some explanation of who Hephaestus was, Lucille got extremely excited. Justin joked that her fiddling with materials and affinity with tools made so much sense now. Clara bid her goodbyes, saying she was going to train, but would meet the two later in the day.
The two Counsellors took the siblings on a tour of the camp together, hyping up all of the training facilities and leisure activities, as well as the classes like ancient Greek, and the Introduction to Myths and Monsters. Suddenly, this whole event was a lot less scary, and so much more exciting. They passed the amphitheatre where sword training was taking place, where they saw Clara thrashing her opponent with immense strength and grace. Justin’s jaw dropped slightly, but he was snapped out of the trance when Lee patted him on the shoulder as they moved on. They stopped at the archery range, where Lee told Justin to have a go, to see how natural his skills were. Lee coached him on how to stand, hold the bow, and draw an arrow without hurting himself. His first arrow was a bullseye. The two counsellors got extremely excited and applauded him. Lucille did too, but she definitely did not know what was happening. She was too busy fiddling with a spring. They had Justin shoot a few more arrows, all hitting the bullseye, before they moved on. As they walked to the forge, where Beckendorf said Lucille would likely spend a lot of time, the counsellors asked what brought them to camp. Justin explained the monster attack, adding on the details of what Mormo said, and how he dreamt of her when she was young. Lee explained the dreams were normal, and what she said was concerning, but she was dusted, so they should be fine for a while. However, when Justin explained how he killed Mormo, thrusting out his hand, and her writhing in pain, the older campers shared a concerned look.
They reached the forge, and Beckendorf turned his attention to Lucille, explaining what they did there. Justin interrupted, explaining that she was colour blind, and Beckendorf acknowledged this, reassuring the Peters siblings that he would do anything in his power to make her experience on the forge more accessible. That made Justin feel better.
“Hey Justin, why don’t we leave these two to investigate the forge?” Lee offered Lucille appeared extremely eager to explore, and Beckendorf seemed trustworthy and eager to introduce her to her siblings, she he hugged her goodbye and promised to see her later.
Lee beckoned for Justin to follow him. He explained that they needed too talked to Chiron, as how Justin defeated Mormos was not a normal Apollo power, and he needed an explanation. Justin was worried about that. Had Apollo made a mistake in claiming him? Was he actually the son of some other God?
Le and Justin appeared at the main cabin, called the Big House. They spoke to Chiron, who had hidden his horse half in a wheelchair, explaining the story of the monster attack in full. The centaur questioned Justin on his past, asking about any incidents involving his emotions and people getting sick. Justin explained the many unexplainable times someone had gotten a headache, or thrown up, or even fainted when they annoyed or upset him. Chiron became quiet and pondered this information for a moment.
“That explains why the titans want you.” Chiron brushed a nervous hand through his hair. He kind eyes turned serious as he stared into Justin’s soul. “You, my boy, are the son of Smintheus Apollo. You have inherited Apollo’s abilities of plague. Children like you only appear once every century. You, Justin Peters, are the Plague Bearer of the 21st Century.”
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chaoswillfallrpg · 3 years
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MIRA IYER is TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD and a JUNIOR ASSISTANT in THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. She looks remarkably like ALIA BHATT and considers herself NEUTRAL. She is currently OPEN.
→ OVERVIEW:
Mira Iyer has lived a charmed life that would make most envious. Born in Holland to a very wealthy family, Mira’s family made their money in the restaurant business establishing numerous restaurants in the wizarding capitals of the world including Amsterdam, Paris, London, New York and Bombay. Arriving in Amsterdam from Western Bombay in the 1920s, Mira’s grandfather was a talented wizard from a respectable Pure-Blood family with a dream of dazzling the world with his talents. Though most magical families left food preparation to staff, ARMAAN IYER found their food often bland, preferring to pick up food from Muggle restaurants when he was home from school. Away at school at The Devamaya College of Magical Arts, he would experiment with food in the kitchens alongside the elves, blending together food he loved with potions and spells he had learned to elevate his cooking. By the time Mira was born in Amsterdam her grandfather had married a half-veela Bollywood actress and his passion had become their passion. Together they opened the finest restaurant in the Danish wizarding community which would quickly spread across the world. Hidden down the side streets of wizarding Amsterdam Ras-Vidha was housed in an enchanted glasshouse containing the beautiful greenery that had surrounded Devamaya in India as magical creatures soared above their heads. 
Whilst Mira’s father SAHIL and her aunt DHRUTI were instilled with the ethics of her grandfather and longed to work hard and better what they had, Mira always saw herself as more like grandmother MAHIKA IYER. A woman who worked hard and batted her long lashes to get to where she was in the emerging Bollywood cinema of the 1930s, when she became successful she simply wanted to relax, entertain and enjoy her material wealths which resonated with Mira. With their restaurant business Ras-Vidha proving even more popular due to the wonderful potions and cocktails also available thanks to Sahil and Dhruti’s creativity and expertise, Mira got used to the idea from an early age that she wouldn’t have to work very hard in order to be happy. Her family were amongst some of the wealthiest in Holland and in the wider wizarding world, they hosted fancy dinners in their restaurants and catered events at the Danish Ministry. While most children dreamed of living a life rooted in fantasy, Mira dreamed of having one exactly like the one she had. She wanted to attend film premieres in her grandmother’s vintage sarees and make girls green with envy at Beauxbatons when she married into another wealthy family. Mira wanted her life to be a Bollywood movie, filled with joy, colour and beauty with herself as the focus in the centre frame.
In jest her family had often described her as a princess, citing her as demanding with a laissez faire attitude to work, but Mira hadn’t truly known what demanding looked like until she met ALEXANDRA ROSIER during her first year at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. The kind of witch who could crack a glacier just by looking at it with her steely gaze, Mira hadn’t ever thought she would feel intimidated by someone until Alexandra’s gaze turned her way. Alexandra was effortlessly cool and commanded a room just by walking into it. Mira didn’t think she wanted to be her, Mira had always been very happy with being herself. But something about Alexandra made Mira want to be close to her and in her orbit no matter how wicked she could be to her. She had a cutting way of speaking to Mira at times that pierced her heart, though a tender touch of her hair as she commented on how she’d styled it for a party and suddenly it all felt worth it again. Mira fell naturally into Alexandra’s inner circle and quickly became her best friend, always on hand to pick her up when Alexandra was feeling down and be involved in a scheme if she needed. Most of her school career at Beauxbatons was spent gossiping in corridors and making sure she was always immaculately presented which was a staple of Alexandra’s inner circle Though Mira is naturally quite a kind person, her dramatic nature often gets the better of her, especially when those who she’s around enjoy causing drama for her to get swept up in. 
This often meant exchanging her fair share of wicked glances towards CLAUDETTE DELACOUR. Alexandra’s sworn enemy. Claudette hadn’t ever really had a bad word to say against Mira, but Mira was loyal to Alexandra and if she needed the assistance in putting down people including Claudette, Mira was always there giggling alongside her even if she didn’t find it very funny. Mira found she had lost herself a bit in her relationship with Alexandra, arriving at Beauxbatons with the view of finding a husband and establishing herself in the theatrical arts she had done neither of those things. Her days were spent in servitude to her best friend, something she hadn’t really questioned until her later years at Beauxbatons. Alexandra’s boyfriend SEBASTIAN FONTAINE, was a relatively strong and silent type, though their friendship group brought out the fun loving side of him. Mira noticed he only spoke seriously when he had something important to say and over the years the two had become good friends, exchanging a glance here and a hand squeeze there when Alexandra made Mira doubt herself or put her down. It wasn’t until Sebastian and Alexandra were on the verge of breaking up Mira truly considered her position in their friendship. Alexandra did not love Mira the same way Mira loved her. She didn’t get anything out of their relationship other than whiplash and as she sat one day by the canal in Amsterdam one spring with Sebastain by her side she realised the gravity of her servitude. 
Mira had become the secondary character in her own life. The best friend rather than leading lady and she had no marriage prospects or real friends other than Sebastian and ALEXANDER TREMBLAY to show for it. Neither of which she was convinced would want to marry her, despite the long standing crush she’d had on Sebastian through school which he was blissfully unaware of and the longstanding flirtacious relationship she shared with the betrothed Alexander. Mira’s life had been a blend of parties, expensive beauty products and stroking Alexandra’s ego. She made a promise to herself then and there to find herself in the world without Alexandra or the protection of her family money. Returning home she packed her old feelings away in a memory box, hid them under her bed and made a plan to move to London where Sebastian was already living. She needed a break from France and from Holland to go somewhere new. Cashing in on her parent’s contacts Mira interviewed for a job at the British Ministry of Magic and applied for a position in Auror's office as the junior assistant to ALICIA AVERY-JONES, the head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which she quickly secured due to her charming nature. With all of her years serving Alexandra, Mira was used to running around after powerful women. Being barked at each day was second nature to her but at least she was getting paid for it now. 
Working diligently under Alicia and her niece LUCILLE JONES who worked as Alicia’s senior assistant, Mira began feeling like her life was finally taking shape. She had a beautiful apartment in Covent Garden her family had subsidised due to her hard work and although she didn’t have much in the way of a personal life due to her demanding boss, what time she did have was spent out drinking with Sebastian, Alexander and famed London party babe STAR DAVENPORT. Everything was falling into place, including a recent flirtationship beginning to flare up between Mira and her colleague ISHAAN PATIL who smelled like success and marriage material to Mira. Then Alexandra came back into her life, showing up one night at The Grave Affair and behaving like they were once again the best of friends. Mira was suspicious of Alexandra at first, but due to her trusting nature has slowly begun to let her guard down and allow Alexandra back into her life despite protests from Sebastian. Around about the time Alexandra came back into her life Mira started to notice gaps of time missing in her memory. One minute she would be with Alexandra and the next she was at work with no knowledge of how she got there. Brushing it off as a result of too many nights out and a lack of sleep, Mira continues her life as normal none the wiser she is being put under the Imperius Curse by her former best friend to do some digging in the Auror’s Office for The Dark Lord. 
→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:
Blood Status → Half-Blood (⅛ Veela)
Pronouns → She/Her
Identification → Cis Female 
Sexuality  → Up to Roleplayer 
Relationship Status → Single 
Previous Education → Beauxbatons Academy of Magic 
Societies → N/A
Family → N/A
Connections  → Sebastian Fontaine (best friend), Alexander Tremblay (best friend), Alexandra Rosier (ex best-friend/recent reacquaintance/unknown adversary), Ishaan Patil (close friend/colleague/potential love interest), Star Davenport (close friend), Alicia Avery-Jones (boss), Lucille Jones (friend/colleague), Claudette Delacour (colleague/acquaintance), Kingsley Shacklebolt (unknown adversary), Shahlyla Shafiq (former adversary)
Future Information → Wife of Ishaan Patil (subject to change), Mother of Parvati and Padma Patil (subject to change)
MIRA IYER IS A LEVEL 5 WITCH/VEELA.
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elizabethsharmon · 4 years
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Now that s5 has ended what do you think about it? I remember seeing you be quite vocal about the season and then you just stopped and I was just wondering what your general opinion is. Did the fandom scare you away? :(
hey there! I kind of stopped being so loud about the show here cause at some point I just gave up about s5 and don’t worry, it would take a lot for fandom to scare me away and i’ll be back with my usual bullshit in 2 weeks with s6 clip by clip reactions ✌️ anyway, i was going through my archive while writing this to remind myself of what happened in each clip and what were mine and fandom’s reactions to it and somehow when I started writing this, it turned out I can’t stop and it got quite long so I'mputting it under read more:
So first of all may I just say that the trailer/firstclip was one of my favourite clips of all times. It was just SO GOOD and to meit was like a dream come true cause I was talking about dropping a clip andstarting a season on New Year since July AND THEY DID IT AND IT WAS E P I C,such a power move, I love it. Honestly everything worked there, the music wasamazing, it was so wonderful to see both squads partying together, it wasperfect, 11/10.
Then the season started and I absolutely loved thefirst two episodes, we really started to get into Arthur's head, to get to knowhim and his family, find out how insecure he is and how well he's hidingeverything from others, and Arthur and Alexia clips!!!! They worked so welltogether and were so cute and supportive, I said it back then that if they ruinthem I will never forgive them for that because what was the point of makingthem a couple in the first place?? I still don't understand that, I don't thinkI ever will... Fast forward to the first Wednesday of the season aka underwatermale gaze aka the moment I knew we're in for a ride and it won't be a goodone... When the clip started I was over the moon, I'm a swimming hoe myself andI loved that they used the pool for actual swimming, the cinematography wasbeautiful and I loved that they found a way to incorporate Lisa into the story.That was until Arthur dived and saw Noee... and sadly, this was the firstmoment I emotionally yeeted out from the season. Don't even get me started howwrong it was - 1. using the pool which is a sacred place in the show’smythology; 2. using piano music; 3. peak male gaze, objectifying Noee, andArthur staring at her even though HE HAD A GIRLFRIEND; they were setting it upas a love triangle from the beginning and after those 10+ weeks I still havethe same question about it as I had back then: why. It was also the first timefandom started to be hostile and the shipping war began, some people werecoming to my and my friends' inboxes, sending us anons to stop thinking theworse about Arthur, that love triangle will definitely not happen and thatDavid explained on his insta that they used the setting of pool in another waythan it was used in og s3... Well, jokes on you cause we were right. Anyway thatWednesday clip was to me the first red flag of the season, the first momentwhen some people started attacking others, when the fandom police started formingand suddenly you couldn't say anything because someone would jump on you andsend hate.
But I decided to let it slide, hoping that they reallywouldn't go there (spoiler alert: they did) and then we got Friday clips withelu housewarming (i'm still emo!!!) and Arthur losing his hearing permanently.It was absolutely heartbreaking to find out he lost hearing in his left ear 2years ago, it was a real game changer back then and suddenly everything changed- why he was looking at Alexia so intently, why he didn't cover his left ear atnye party, etc. I absolutely LOVED the way they handled the topic at thebeginning with Jerome explaining everything to Arthur and to us and I LOVED thepositive discourse it started within the fandom with deaf/hoh people teachingothers and explaining things without getting mad at silly questions - tbh to meit was one of the best parts of the first half of the season and I'm reallygrateful for it ❤️
Sunday clips with gang were one of my favourite in theseason, I think Arthur took us all by surprise when he went to elu's flat totell the guys that he can't hear and they were chaotic and supporting andamazing and wow, I really don't understand what the fuck happened and wherethey disappeared in the second half of the season. I loved that they hinted aturbex king Eliott and I kinda feel like that might come back in s6....... butanyway. The 7 amclips were absolutely one of the highlights of the season. They helped to buildsome sort of routine and Robin absolutely nailed them, I could feel howpowerless and more frustrated he was feeling AND I also felt betrayed that wedidn't get one on Thursday and Friday. Even though after the first pool clip Iwas dreading every single next clip there, I really liked that they were showingus that Arthur goes there every Wednesday, it really helped to get inside hishead and to understand him more and I kinda wish they hadn't stopped thatbecause it would be a really power move to keep showing that. Alexia in episode2 was just WOW, i can't believe there were people who were saying she andArthur don't have chemistry or that he should break up with her because she'snot supportive - well, she proved you all wrong. Too bad Arthur was too dumband self-absorbed to appreciate that.
BASILE/ARTHUR FRIENDSHIP. All their clips were solovely and heartwarming, I loved how different Basile was in Arthur's pov toBasile we knew at the beginning of s3; when he didn't want to leave Arthuruntil he said back that he loves him :'))) wholesome. I kinda wish we got tosee more of those two, they're definitely hanging out just the two of them andthat's what was lacking for me, those 3 or so clips of just the two of thembeing wholesome buddies were great but they were not enough.
The party clip on Thursday of ep2 was great, I lovedhow they're giving us little insights of deaf/hoh community and showing usArthur getting drawn to it. I wish that it wasn't overshadowed by love triangleand we got more of it, but I'll be back to it later...
Now, episode 3 and 4 were strong in the term of clipsbut those two weeks were incredibly boring when you were watching it in realtime. The breaks were too long, there were three clipless days each episodewith hardly any social media update and at times it made me forget about theshow completely. The bar clip in ep3 was great until they started sayingproblematic shit and tbh I was really starting to stress over Eliott then -first we got a hint that housewarming party was canceled because he wasn't feelingwell, now over a week later he's not feeling well again and Lucas' "he'smy boyfriend and i love him" was very cute and I loved it but it alsostarted to lead to misery porn and this dread didn't leave me until the end ofthe season and I'm still worried that it will play a part in s6 and it won't behandled well (disclaimer: this is not about the fact that they're talking aboutEliott's MI, it's about how Lucas started to act like a martyr and the way theystarted to show him acting almost like Lucille).
Episode 3 was also the time when I think it becameobvious that Arthur's short outburst of communication was gone and we'll haveto deal with next few weeks of miscommunication, sulking and hiding. Beginningof ep4 was another moment for me when I wanted to escape from this seasonbecause of the fandom police - they created as hostile atmosphere for the fanswatching in real time as druck stans did during s3, when you couldn't commentanything or say anything without other people jumping on you, calling you outand hating you, that for a moment again I was ready to give up on the show. Ireally wish I had done it.
As much as I liked stupid gang content in thecafeteria the whole clip was kinda odd and the 1,5 days break between the clipand laser tag was too much. I feel like the pacing in episode 4 really didn'twork in their favour and the clips could've been placed in another order sothat the breaks weren't so long. The laser tag was such a strong clip withbeautiful cinematography and colouring and it showed us Arthur's problems withsensory overload and again - I wish we could find out more about it because inthe end the clip was too short and cut abruptly only for Arthur to go to Noeeto see her dance in a scene that was pure male gaze, where the camera lingeredon her flat, bare stomach, a few times showing close up of her boobs. And yes.I am aware sing language is a bodily language. But the thing is that itcould've been shown differently, without so many objectifying shots, with Noeewearing different clothes, without Arthur staring at her with his jaw dropped.Arthur who - may i remind you - had a girlfriend at that time. I can watchgore, I can watch open surgeries, I can watch blood, and fight, and beating,and all that without the blink of the eye. i could barely watch the clip ofNoee dancing. I've never felt so sick after watching something in my life, Ihad to go offline for a few hours cause I was feeling so unwell. This was sucha fucked up scene to film in such a way, to objectify her, to use male gaze, touse piano music, slow motion, man looking at her in a predatory way, and thisscene was so wrong on so many levels itself but when you add to it the factthat Alexia NEVER got scenes like that and all her dancing scenes showed her basicallyas a quirky friend having fun at parties. And that's disgusting.
But let's move on to episode 5. I loved all the scenesin the asso, I loved that they showed Arthur actually going to LSF classes, Iloved how he confronted his father about it later. Though episode 5 was alsothe start of the boy squad becoming brainless idiots, lying to his friend,plotting behind his back, going to a concert without him. Episode of beautifulcinematography and skating scene that I watched trying not to think about thefact that Arthur is basically having a date with another girl while hisgirlfriend is studying for her bac, of an oblivious guy not wanting to stop itbefore it's too late and everyone's hearts will be broken.... I loved that hesnapped at the guys in the detention clip. I liked the following clip withAlexia, when they made her talk about her insecurities, showed us how strongshe is but also how fragile she is at the same time. But that Sunday of episode6 was the moment I ultimately realized I don't care any more about this season.It was already ruined for me. Alexia opening up, Alexia asking Arthur aboutNoee and him saying the worst ableist shit ever, Arthur breaking Noee'sheart... Those three clips made me realize that for me it's too late, thedamage is done, and I won't be able to enjoy this season for real. Alexia wasbound to get her heart broken, I was pitying Noee because it wasn't her fault aguy she had a crush on kept on leading her for weeks, and Arthur... I dislikedhim more and more and I just wanted it to be over.
I loved all clips with Laura and Melchior, the playfuldynamic in their interactions with Arthur was one of the best things of theseason and I can't stop but think that we could've had the same thing but withArthur, Noee, and Camille. Meanwhile Noee was reduced to manic pixie dreamgirl, a homewrecker, a plot device, and Camille was there only to translate(and later to be Mika's boyfriend). I really liked the clip with Noee andArthur reading her letter about cochlear implant, it was very informative andit was the kind of content I really wanted to see in this season. The onlything I hated about it - which was a recurring theme in clips with Noee... - isthat Arthur kept forgetting about Alexia and this was so unfair to her.
Now. The Valentine's Day. I loved the sourd datingclip, again, it was something that I wanted to see in the season and it was avery strong clip. But then the rest of the episode... I really wish it didn'texist. Jumping to the pool in clothes???? Arthur sharing his deepest trauma andNoee kissing him??? NOEE AND ARTHUR SHIPPERS JUMPING ON PEOPLE SAYING THAT SHEDID IT TO COMFORT HIM???? Sorry guys, I don't know about you but when myfriends are sharing something traumatizing to me I hug them or hold their hand,I don't kiss them with tongue. Also using a flashback??? It doesn’t go wellwith the show’s format, why was it even used???
Episode 8 was... Episode 8 was wild. And weird. Andstrange. And I don't really know what was the point of it. But despiteeverything crackfic farm au was at least entertaining and it was kind ofsomething we needed then after weeks of will they/won't they and hating Arthur.Whipped elu was everything, the fifi saga was hilarious and I rewatched itaround 50 times and it still makes me laugh - Maxence nailed it but ?? what wasthe point? they killed Eliott's bunny so that he would become vegetarian? Theywanted to traumatize him and cause him to have an episode that was cut in theend? (I really wouldn't be surprised, there are 2 clips missing from firstepisodes each, and probably more in the others). I really don't know what wasthe point. The 6h15 or sth clip was funny but if Lucas and Arthur hugging itout cause sorry bro / it's okay bro / bro / bro is what they're considering aproper apology then I'm sorry but it isn't. What's more, the pacing of thisepisode was incredibly off and the clips didn't add up and there wasn't anynatural flow to it - they should've madetwo clips on Sunday - with Arthur getting to the van and them arriving to thecountryside, two clips on Monday with 6 am and then Daphne and Basile, Fifitrilogy on Tuesday and then right after midnight on Wednesday Arthur and Alexiain the barn. Now, the cheating excusing convo... I was absolutelydisgusted by the boy squad and the fact that YANN who was cheated on in s1advised Arthur to not say anything... wow. Also I really don't like what Eliottsaid there, I understood it in that moment that he was mainly talking from aphilosophical pov that humans are never satisfied in general, but he was sayingthat during the cheating convo, right after he said that he cheated on his gfto get with his bf, he said it while Lucas was right there, knowing that he hasdeeply rooted abandonment issues and this is what made the situation worse. Ithink I'll talk more about the fandom reaction and team's comments later causethere will be a lot to unpack there so yeah, I'll leave it for now.
Because now let's move on to February 21, aka theFriday that changed everything. Can I just say that I have never seen a worseclip ever in my life? That wasn't skam. That was soap opera. And not even agood one. I can't even comprehend how they wrote THIS and thought it was good.I despise the choice of making Noee speak out loud with every fiber of mybeing. First they objectified her, reduced her to the plot device and 1/3 ofthe love triangle, and now they stripped her of her integrity for a guy who wasconstantly leading her on, who has a girlfiend. They made her so desperate tomake him stay with her that she lost a part of himself for him. And for who??For a guy who didn't give a fuck about her? Who constantly played with herfeelings? Who mocked her and her language and her culture and didn't do so onlywhen it was convenient for him? Honestly fuck him, fuck Arthur. And then A CARCRASHED INTO HIM LIKE ????????????? Someone please explain to me what was thepoint of that cause the only one I see was to provide a fandom with a greatfree entertainment.
Now, episodes 9 and 10 were overall much stronger thanthe past few weeks but it was already to late to salvage the season. We gotanother cheating apologists scene which was - again - absolutely disgusting,especially coming from Lucas - who gave Arthur the same advice he gave to Emma- and Yann - who was cheated on and knew from his own experience that stufflike that always come out in the end. It's like all their character developmentfrom previous seasons went down the drain. Arthur on the other hand seemed tohave a character regression with each passing week. I'm still appalled by whatLucas said - that Alex is their friend but Arthur is part of the gang. It wasdisgusting. And it was out of the character. And it was the worst possiblething that could've been said.
Coline's song was so beautiful and I was so happy thatArthur finally realized what he's lost, though I feel like all those intensestaring between Arthur and Noee was unnecessary again, it's like they couldn'tjust give us a break for one clip from them, it's like she was constantlystealing Alexia's moments, whether she was on screen at the time or not.
The clip with elu was sweet and gave us greatwholesome content, but it only confirmed that Lucas' abandonment issues woke upfrom their nap and I'm already dreading what they're planning to do with thatin s6, especially that according to the latest news Lucas is not very presentin the next season... The polyamory talk... It was odd. It felt force. Thebuildup to it wasn't done very well and what' more it was built on cheating.And that's doesn't bode well. It's also quite ridiculous how it took 1 minuteconversation with Lucas or even one sentence from him tbh for Arthur to go"oh yeah I'm poly. I think." and tell Noee that he loves her eventhough he spent the last couple of weeks denying that and pushing her away. IHATE that yet again they made her be so desperate and cry when he was tellingher this. That's not Noee they gave us in the first half of the season. Ireally liked the clip of Laura and Melchior and Arthur giving the presentationto the students but Arthur's grandiose speech to students and then to girls wasso strange, there wasn't any buildup to it, or more likely Arthur that we werehaving on screen from the end of ep 4 till the end of ep9 was gone and the oldArthur finally showed up. But nevertheless it was strange and not very fittingto the way how the story progressed.
NOW the last two clips - first was a little bit shortand I can't say I was a huge fan (though Eliott's kermit-like dance waseverything jdskjdkjjd) but the second clip was absolutely beautiful, we finallysaw Daphne talk, I'm still not sure what to think about Noee/Arthur (not reallya fan of how the story was resolved... or how it wasn't resolved), AND THEMURAL! LUCAS CRYING BECAUSE HE'S PROUD OF HIS BOYFRIEND! ELIOTT ONCE A YEARMAKING A MURAL OUT OF PURE LOVE! EVERYONE CRYING! ELIOTT NOT PAINTING HIMSELFBECAUSE HE DOESN'T CONSIDER HIMSELF PART OF THE SQUAD (although he is, I don'tknow why they don't understand it) and... Lola. But I guess I'll be back to itlater.
So now, I can't say I'm a fan of the season. I enjoyedsome of the clips, but overall it was a mess, love triangle and fandom and crewbehaviour ruined the season for me. I was absolutely disgusted but howprivileged fans acted on tumblr and on twitter. And yes. There are privilegedfans, fans who were shutting others up because they "don't want us to getour hopes up when we don't know what might happen", fans who were sayingthat "you don't know anything haha i can promise you don't know shit hahano i don't know anything and no i'm not jealous haha you just don't know buthaha tell me this oh how stupid you are", fans who were acting like afandom police all the freaking time, yelling at everyone to "wait and see!you don't know what will happen!". Well. We didn't. Because contrary to 5%of the "little ones-fans", the rest 95% is not privileged enough toget a special treatment, to be invited on set for filming, to know the detailsof the plot before the season airs, to know the bigger picture. It's not fair.If you really know everything then great, I'm happy for you, but let the otherswatch the show how they like, let them react to it clip by clip. Because mostof us don't know the bigger picture and don't know what will happen and how theissues will be resolved. And you are aware that the format of the show itselfencourages viewers to react to the events of the story as they resolve onscreen and through transmedia content, right? That's the essence of skam.Taking that away from the regular fans because you've been let in to some innercircle and know it all is absolutely disgusting. Don't interact with the fandomif you can't stand seeing people not agreeing with the writing choices,questioning what they watch and theorizing about what will happen. If you're soabove it, then just stick with the people like you, with those 5% or so ofknow-it-all and "enjoy" the show with them. Don't ruin the fun forothers. You're not better than anyone else. Don't act like it. Don't be ahypocrite. Don't act publicly as a fandom police, criticize everyone who sharesspoilers and call them out and write hateful posts, if you're doing the sameprivately, if you can't shut up when someone sends you a dm or a message offanon and suddenly you spill everything. Don't be fake. If you know stuff, thengreat, I don't know admit it and say that you want say anything or don't sayanything but then don't spread the spoilers and don't write cryptic comments inthe tags. It's not helping anyone and it's definitely not doing anything good.And to people on twitter currently posting what I guess they assume are vaguetweets about cast’s personal lives? Fuck you. You’re so loud, you know? Maybeyou think you’re talking in a special code only you and your friends can guessbut it’s so obvious and so disgusting, you really have no shame. Grow up andget a life.
Another thing that ruined the season for me was theway the crew was acting on twitter and instagram and I’m so so so disappointed by their behaviour,especially that I’ve always considered them as one of the most open-mindedteams who respect their fans and their opinions. Turns out they do that butonly when the reactions to the clips are positive. I mean, I kind of get it,obviously everyone wants to hear the praise, but you cannot ignore thenegative comments and fans’ concerns, especially that there were plenty of themthis season. And during social media age when it takes one click to see theliked posts or comments, it becomes obvious that the crew was only interacting (evenin such a passive way like liking comments or tweets) with fanswho were praising the show. All the negative comments and questions werebrushed off, saying that “the season will reveal its own truth” and that iffans will have any questions they will be answered after. Well, franklyspeaking, me and my friends have a list of questions that we’d love to get ananswer for:
- why was love triangle necessary?- why did they make Alexia and Arthur a couple in the first place if theywanted him to go after Noee?- why did Noee say she doesn't like talking out loud cause sign language is howshe communicates only to yell at Arthur to stop him from leaving, losing herintegrity for a guy who doesn't care about her?- car????????????????????????- cheating convos - why are they excusing it like that- treatment of Alexia & why did they include numerous comments about Alexia'sbody?- THE MALE GAZE - why did the camera focus so much on Noee's body, why was sheobjectified and why was she presented as a stark contrast to Alexia?- fifi?- p*trick and why the abuse was introduced so late in the plot and overshadowedimmediately by cheating and then followed by crackfic farm au?- why didn't we see any Arthur centered clips where he shows he likes art?- why did Arthur and space have no relevance in the season???- why are Lucas and Yann saying shit every time they open their mouths and whydid they forgot about everything that happened in s1?- the whole convo with the boy squad on valentine's day and how shitty theirreaction was - why?- why we didn't see any actual squad interactions on holidays and no realapologies?- why does the life of the characters always has to revolve around romanticrelationships?- why can't men and women be friends unless the man is gay?- what was the point of all the ship wars and skamlaserie photo withArthur/Alexia and Arthur/Noee *especially* after all the comments on twitterand on Instagram when fans were fighting already and it only made thingsescalate? Why not stop it, why pit fans against each other, why let it escalatelike that?- why draw parallels between elu and Arthur/Noee?- Why was Noee reduced to love interest and Camille to translator 90% of thetime and why don't give them similar dynamics with Arthur as Melchior and Laurahave?- how can Arthur see underwater?- Catherine - was she just a queerbait?- tuturo comment from the forum and Arthur's 'relationship' with 34 yo - whywasn’t it mentioned ever again?- how could noee not know arthur has a girlfriend since she was following himon instagram and he had photos with alexia there?- what happened with basile's birthday since they never celebrated them??- in samedi 11:04 (5x10) eliott says "i've got some croissants, do youwant me to heat them up?" which implies that he's already bought them andbrought them back to the flat BUT he's putting his jacket on as if he was aboutto leave and then he leaves and slams the door so what's the truth?
The crew completely invalidated the feelings andconcerns of the fans and what added fuel to the flame for me was thatskamlaserie post with Arthur/Noee/Alexia and caption that they can’t choosecause they love them both and… Honestly, who the hell works there. There’s beendrama for the whole week on twitter and under David’s posts on insta andinstead of finally end it, idk block the comments or just make a statement ORWHATEVER, they posted THAT on the official show’s account?? Why haven’t they stopped it? Why did they keep on pitting fans against each other up to the point that one twitter user started getting DEATH THREATS only because they translated some video??? Absolutely disgusting.@skamlaserie and @fr team: hate to break it to you but there's nothing wrong with being single andthere's plenty of teenagers who aren't in relationships in high school andthat's okay... maybe that's how Arthur should've started the season instead ofbecoming a cheater and leading on two girls at the same time just for the sakeof having unnecessary relationship drama which literally only created somepointless ship wars and put half of the fandom off watching the show... just saying.
Then, another things that rubbed me the wrong way werethe whole “canceling” discourse (that never really happened and I still standby what I said in the comments to this post so I’ll just direct you to it) and imposingthe one “right” interpretation on the fans - I specifically have the cheatingconvo from episode 8 in mind now. We all have a right to our owninterpretations of every scene, here many people saw it as Eliott’s commenthaving an effect on Lucas and his abandonment issues and started commenting onthat on twitter and David had to rush to explain that he hadn’t meant Lucas,that Eliott won’t cheat and that they won’t break up and will stay together.Well, the thing is that there’s such a concept as “the death of the author”which I suppose you can already guess from its name says that the author, theirbeliefs, backstory, opinions, etc. shouldn’t be taken into account wheninterpreting the text because writing (or in this case - a show) and creatorare separate entities and shouldn’t be correlated. First of all, thismetaphorical extinguishing of fire seemed pointless and like a mockery, seeinghow two episodes later it turned out people were right and Lucas really tookEliott’s comment personally and his insecurities and abandonment issues wereshowing up again; secondly, after that there were many comments from the crewabout how Elu will stay forever and never break up and maybe it’s just me but Ithink that was obvious, right? So why would they keep repeating that? Unless…something will happen in s6 that will make us doubt that and it’s a preemptive damagecontrol 🙃
So to sum up this monstrosity that I have no idea ifit even makes any sense BUT ANYWAY: I liked some of the things in s5 but overall Ireally really didn’t like it, some people in the fandom were incrediblyannoying and turned out to be fake and complete hypocrites, and the crew’s behaviour on socialmedia leaves a lot to be desired and I can only hope they will acknowledge anycriticism of s6 and won’t blatantly ignore fans’ criticism again. So that’d beit. If you read it till the end then you’re stronger than Sabrina giffingArthur getting hit by a car and I respect you for that cause even I haven’t reread it, have a nice quarantineand stay safe!
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12 Transgender Books Everyone Should Read This Pride Month
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How beautiful is the transgender flag?! There are actually several versions of it but the original with these soft pastel colours (representing the traditional colours given to baby boys and girls with the white signifying transition) is the prettiest, in my opinion. This post comes at a time where the UK government are planning on scrapping the right to self-identify your gender. It comes at a time when one of the world’s most famous, previously beloved authors has publicly stated that she doesn’t believe that transgender women are real women and that they’re a threat to cisgender women. Trans people are consistently misunderstood, dismissed as ill or dangerous by those in power and often forced into boxes that they simply don’t fit into, purely so everyone else can ‘understand’ them. The following books are vital in giving these vulnerable, silenced members of society a chance to see themselves in fiction as well as offering cisgender people a chance to learn something of the transgender experience. Enjoy! -Love, Alex x
1. The Gender Games by Juno Dawson.
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Part memoir, part reflection on the meanings of gender, The Gender Games is Juno Dawson’s manifesto for a world where no one is restricted by society’s expectations of their genitals. With insights from a range of other gender and trans writers and activists, this is an eye-opening account of Juno’s experience of life as a British transgender woman.
2. Birthday by Meredith Russo.
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Eric and Morgan have been inseparable their whole lives but as they reach their teenage years, they can both feel that something is changing. Told over six shared birthdays, this is a heartwrenching YA book about friendship, grief and self-acceptance that will have you reaching for the tissues.
3. Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender.
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Mixed-race transgender queer teen, Felix believes he isn’t deserving of love and when an anonymous source begins circulating photos of Felix pre-transition, he plans his revenge. The message at the heart of it is that everyone is deserving of true love and that they don’t need to change their true selves to get it, which is possibly the most important thing a struggling transgender person can ever carry with them.
4. The Art Of Being Normal by Lisa Williamson.
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David knows that she is really a girl called Kate but is afraid of revealing that to everyone at school. However, things are about to unravel. The Art Of Being Normal tackles some dark issues such as transphobia and bullying but there is a wonderful friendship to enjoy as well as a heartwarming coming-of-age story.
5. Dreadnought by April Daniels.
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When a superhero falls out of the sky and hands his powers over to Danny, there’s no more hiding the fact that she’s transgender but coming out isn’t quite as brilliant as she thought it would be and a murderous enemy is hot on her heels. Dreadnought is a fun, much-needed addition to the superhero genre with characters that you’ll fall in love with.
6. George by Alex Gino.
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Melissa really wants to play Charlotte in the school’s production of Charlotte’s Web but when everyone looks at her, they see a boy called George so how will she ever manage to nail her longed-for role? This novel of acceptance, self-discovery and courage is vital reading for middle-graders and pretty much anyone who loves a powerful, moving story.
7. Nevada by Imogen Binnie.
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Maria is a transgender woman and punk in New York, whose life takes an unexpected turn into mentorship, when she takes a road trip after being simultaneously dumped and fired. Nevada is a dark comedy with highly affecting characters and offers a different, enlightening take on the Great American Road Trip Novel.
8. Pet by Akwaeke Emezi.
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In the utopian city of Lucille, there are no monsters anymore but when a creature called Pet emerges from one of her mother’s paintings, Jam is forced to confront the idea that they may still lurk. Pet is a very strange, thought-provoking YA novel that is unlike any other but unbelievably clever and immersive. 
9. Trans Like Me: A Journey For All Of Us by C. N. Lester.
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This insightful memoir tackles key discussion points facing transgender people including correct pronouns, hormone treatment, intersectional feminism and so much more. Trans Like Me is essential reading for cisgender people wanting to further their understanding of the real issues of being a transgender person today.
10. Nothing Ever Happens Here by Sarah Hagger-Holt.
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Shy girl Izzy’s dad has just announced that she’s actually a woman called Dee and now everyone is talking about it. It’s a comforting, wholesome, middle-grade read about the different ways that members of a family adapt to the change within it. Full of love, honesty and acceptance, it’s a must-read for every pre-teen.
11. Small Beauty by Jia Qing Wilson-Yang.
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Chinese-Canadian Mei is a recently bereaved trans woman, who reflects on her own history and uncovers some secrets and local mysteries while living in her dead cousin’s house. This strange novel is a unique, stunning exploration of the struggles of living with multiple marginalised identities that will speak to many transgender readers directly.
12. Redefining Realness: My Path to Womanhood, Identity, Love and So Much More by Janet Mock.
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Revisiting her teenage years of hormone self-medication and surgery through to the success of her adult life, Janet Mock tells her story with stark honesty. She touches on all of the issues facing transgender youth and inspires everyone to be completely, unapologetically yourself. 
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queerchoicesblog · 4 years
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The Birthday Party (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series, Ch. 10/2)
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Here it is the second part of chapter 10!
Guys, I'm gonna be honest with you: I'm not sure when the next one will be out: it could be Tuesday next week or in weeks from now. So consider this series on potential hiatus. I'm struggling to find words in my everyday life and writing feels quite pointless atm. Hopefully if will change soon but that's the situation atm, I'm sorry.
Little disclaimer-favor: if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!
Word Count: 3000+
Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped@storyscapefanficarchive@marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako@everlastingchoices @andrxrneda @aestheticsayeed@indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff@bornonawdnsday @nazario-sayeed  @h-doodles @adele-serda@marlcasters@brightpinkpeppercorn @nightwhite13@ramenwithaspoon@michelleconnoly @charliejane-blog @ghost-of-yuri@choicesgremlin @shadeofangelus @mistressofspiesxenia@orange-elephants​
Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon @nydeiri
➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1
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Returning to the party still in full swing after my stolen moment with Adele is disheartening. I guess going back to our miseries in this crazy world after experiencing a glimpse of Heaven is pretty much the same feeling. I wonder how poor Dante coped back then. A smiling waiter hands me another glass of sweet alcoholic poison and I put my mask back on, even if I struggle now. I try to distract myself and be entertained by the chirpy conversations and gossips of my guests but my mind keeps running back to her. "I know, I wish this moment didn't have to end" "We'll make our own plays. Whaddya say?" I giggle at their silly jokes and outrageous stories, I retort with witticisms out of a script but I can't hear them, not truly. I'm not here. The Zetta is, not me. I am still in my lover's company. I can only hear her soft voice, our words of love. I don't have time nor will to hear that hilarious improbable story I'll absolutely have to tell Richard or that marvellous recent scientific discovery. I smile, I fake interest and thank God -and myself- I am a great actress.
As I move to another table where Lucille is beckoning me over I look out of the window, taking in the starry sky. I'm surprised but a quick smile cross my lips when I spot Adele hanging in there with a steward I saw around the lifts. They're leaning on the railing and chatting. They look like close friends: maybe they were accidentally reunited on board or is it true what they say? Ships make fast friends. I'll ask her about him. Not out of jealousy, even if I wish I could neglect my party more and run at her side where he stands. Even if I wish I could be the one making her laugh now. I just smile at the two of them, grateful that my troubled love is in good company tonight. God knows if she doesn't need a friend and some happiness after all she went through. And I'm afraid the worst is yet to come...
I do my best to lose myself in the complicated story about a common acquaintance my friend is sharing with the ladies and it works, to some extent. At least until when Sabine comes find me and invite the whole group to stand as the waiters pick up the table moving then toward the wall to clear space. Oh, we'll have some dancing! Even the musicians are now moving to the center of the far wall to be heard best. The crowd, myself included, is delighted and in awe. As the first chords of my favorite waltz start playing, everyone is looking for their partners and hurrying to finish their drinks. I drain mine, trying not to think of how much I would love to have this dance with my love no matter how inappropriate it would sound to many here. I ditch the Baron though -that lovable shark isn't fast enough this time!- and a couple of other hopeful admirers to hold Lawrence's hand. "Shall we dance, darling?" I smile encouraged you at him. We both long for a partner we can't pick out in the sun: let our shared sorrow fade away on the note of The Blue Danube, my dear friend. Lawrence understands or so it seems by the bittersweet yet thankful smile he offers me. He reads the unwritten and hears the unspoken words too. My poor dear Lawrence... We chat like old friends as we sway among the crowd. He's not only a brilliant director but also one of the finest dancer I've ever met. He blush a little when I sing his praises and just shrugs saying he has loved dancing. Typical, humble Lawrence... He lowers his voice a little when he thanks me for inviting him to the party, "well, me and Felix". He looks touched when I assure him that I wouldn't have had it any other way, I deeply value our friendship. "Me too, Zetta. You can count on me" he beams before his melancholic smile reappears. "If we close our eyes, we're in a fancy ballroom in Vienna" he whispers, leaning close and guiding the two of us into a graceful turn. I'm about to share a memory of my youth there with him, when I was blinded by the beauty and luxury of the imperial aristocracy there when ruckus erupts from the other side of the room. Surprised cries and laughter ring as the guests stop dancing and the music ceases. "What? My party is not over yet" I playfully protest, pouting. I'm suddenly nervous. I fear the time has come: time for the squalid yet hurtful family theatrics, time for James's show. I try to find out what's going on but I can't make my way through a crowd of ladies and gentlemen stretching their necks and whispering to each other. My fears are sadly confirmed when I catch the baritone voice of the Baron saying "Good show, Miss Carrem. Getting smart with you, was he?" "I'm afraid I cannot stand overfamiliarity. I apologise for making a scene" My love's voice is a bit shaken: is it anger or fright? Concern and fury take hold of me and I shutter my jaw. Lawrence squeezes my hand and I am grateful. "It is I who should apologise, on behalf of those who call themselves gentle..." the Baron continues but James interrupts him. "Oh do be quiet!" His tone is harsh, pure drunk rage. The crowd seems to lose interest in the argument and the music resumes but I'm still wary. I know James is up to something and it's just a matter of time. "I'm sure it's nothing, Zetta. A little misunderstanding...and Miss Carrem knows how to take care of herself" It's Lawrence. I turn to him and he's smiling reassuringly down at me, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. I feels so grateful for his lovable kindness right now, an anchor in a troubled sea. I nod and try to shake my bad gut feelings away. "Why don't we take a break and enjoy the waltz with a drink?" he adds, gesturing to the drink table near the window. I compliment his idea and let him guide me through the crowd. The cold her of the night cools me down and I take a long breath to soothe my nerves. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I'll be spared the drama. Unlikely but I can still hope right? I almost sink the glass of sherry Lawrence hands me, triggering a concerned look that I dismiss, claiming I'm perfectly fine. I just needed a break, I'm not twenty anymore, I grimly joke. "True Beauty never ages, dear Zetta. A beautiful soul defies the cruel compass of time" Lawrence proclaims with a smile. I ask him what poet wrote that line because I can't recollect it in the moment but I'm not surprised in the least to hear that he is the one behind that sweet thought. I pull him into a hug whispering thank you into his ear. When we part, he encourage me to make a wish. "It's your birthday, after all: isn't it a tradition in America?" he asks. I'm still considering and rambling when Felix and Sabine approach us. The party is going well and the guests are enjoying themselves. They just wanted to check in on the honeree, Felix says. Lawrence shows our empty glasses making a funny face and we all laugh. I ask about the little incident before. Felix assures me once again that it was nothing. I turn towards my little Napoleon for confirmation. "Oui, Madam. Nothing more than a quid pro quo. You know how it is. Youth" Sabine says but the look in her eyes tells a different story. "Miss Zetta, any chance you'll make an appearance in our documentary?" Felix intervenes, quickly changing the topic. "We would be most honoured" Lawrence adds, beaming. "A little tribute to one of the finest passengers of the liner" I give a soft laugh, playing with the idea. Maybe I could, after all. A quick cameo. It wouldn't take too much time. I playfully brush them off calling out their flattery but they assure they had considered it over the last few days on board. "It would be a pleasure and an honor" Felix bows. I sigh contently, my eyes wandering from one admirer and friend to the other. "Very well then, my dear friends: I'm in! Why don't we meet...let's say over breakfast or lun-" I start but I stop mid-sentence. Behind my back, an hysterical laugh echoes through the café, drawing the general attention. Conversations and music fades away and an awkward tense silence settles. Cold runs down my spine and I fear my face suddenly goes pale as I recognise the voice. Jamie. It's time. I must endure this bad farçe. I inhale sharply. You can do this, you are a great actress and you survived worst days. You survived Franz. Get ready, Zetta. On scene in three, two one... When I turn, he's stalking towards me, shirt stained with wine and an hysterical light gleaming in his bright eyes. He's dragging Adele along like a puppet. A disheartening picture compared to my fondest memories of him. "Excuse me, Aunt, I merely wished to offer a toast: my salutations on this glorious occasion and-" he exclaims, raising his glass and sloshing wine over the edges. "You interrupting to chew the cud, here, James? Get to the point" I sound a bit harsh, as if annoyed of another interruption. I roll my eyes as I would do with a problematic kid throwing a tantrum and forgetting his manners. Ironically, it's what he's doing, even if he's no longer a child. A weird, unpleasant smile crosses his face. Maybe he was expecting my reaction? "And a fond farewell to your secretary" he adds menacingly as I take a sip of sherry. I narrow my eyes at him over my glass, half annoyed, half amused. Bring it on, Jaime dear. "A farewell? And why might that be?" I see Sabine tensing up at my peripheral. James looks so pleased of himself as he takes the stage like a practiced professional. He doesn't realise he's just behaving like a pathetic buffoon to my -and most guests's -eyes. "To put it simply: Adele is a confidence woman who agreed to come abroad the Titanic to help me destroy you" "Come again?" I fake surprise as the crowd gasps and starts whispering. The attention and the look on my face renew his foolish fervor. "I brought Adele to help me ruin your marriage to Richard King, to keep him from ruining our family... For the price of her freedom, your secretary was to get close to you, discover your worst secret, and deliver it to me." He stops, making a dramatic pause. And now I know: it's the moment of truth. Time of Adele's choice. I stand, concealing my inner turmoil and fears, as the crowd basks into this unexpected juicy coup de theatre. When he speaks again, his mouth twists with a rage I've never fathomed he could hide inside. "She failed!" She...protected me? Even knowing at what cost... My eyes instinctively search Adele's but James is not done yet. "And now she'll go back to jail, where I found her" he shouts, spiralling out of control but loud enough to be heard by everyone. At the word "jail", the crowd utters a collective gasp. He wants to publicly humiliate her since he can't get what he was looking for. Because she dared refuse him the key to my ruin. I wish I could just drop the act and slap some sense into him. What pains me most is seeing him succeeding, to some extent. Adele is frowning under that low blow. I throw glares at everyone taking a step back from her as if she suddenly turned into a criminal or an insect. Miserable bastards... My love proves herself to be superior to all this, again. She straightens up and addresses the crowd, providing explanations she doesn't owe to any of us" "I was arrested for public disruption at a protest for women's rights. I'm not proud of having been jailed, but I'm not ashamed of what I was fighting for" she says, grimacing. Then she looks at me and I smile at her, hoping to convey all my respect, deepest affection and admiration for my sweet brave revolutionary. Let me help you now, my angel. I turn towards James and my smile loses all its warmth. "Bravo, James. You're quite the schemer" I knew he would be confused. I'll deny you something too, Jaime. You won't get an ounce of the despair you wanted. You won't see me crying and crumble under your betrayal: I'm not a Julius Caesar stumbling underneath your dagger. "That's all you have to say? You've been played. She was hired to ruin your marriage-" "She was, wasn't she?" I cut him short. "But she has a conscience, and a lot of courage" I take a pause before smiling again, cold and victorious. "Adele told me all about your terrible plan" His jaw drops and his rosy cheeks pale. He grabs Adele's arm and starts drunkly ramble again. "You - what? No. This doesn't change anything. I'll take you back-" This time Adele interrupts him, spitting the harsh truth right in his face. "Your only power was your wealth, and now that's gone. Along with the trust of your only relative" He releases her and I wonder if he finally realised what a fool, what an ungrateful fool he has been. Adele's right, James. When he turns to me, a desperate look on his face, I brace myself for his tears. Him begging for a forgiveness I'm not sure I will ever be able to give him. Apparently, I haven't learned my lesson: men can't be trusted. Men will always lie to you. "She's the one blackmailing me" Adding insult to injury, Jamie dear? "No, James. She's not" I'm cold and firm, despite the heartbreak I feel growing inside me. "You'll value the word of this secretary over your own blood?" His disbelief quickly turns into rage again. "I value my own sense, James; your plotting was plain as that smirk on your face" My voice is sharp: yes, I want to hurt him just like he hurt me. I want him to feel ashamed and sorry for what he did to me, to Adele. My sharp retort provokes some nervous giggles soon silenced in our audience. I sense fury building up inside him until it explodes. He bangs on the table with his fist, making everyone jump. "I'll get to Hileni, then, I'll hold her, I'll make you tell Zetta's secret-" Is he even speaking to Adele or...to himself? Honestly, I cannot tell. And I'm grateful to Matteo for intervening. I don't know what he's whispering into his ear but it seems to work. James seems to remember himself. For a split second, sadly. He straightens his cuffs and gives us all a tight, cruel smile. "Off to send word to the authorities, then" he says and turns to Adele and me. "As I said before, say your goodbyes" Then he walks away as the unabashed crowd part the way for his supposed grand exit. When he's out of the room, the guests are puzzled, unsure of what they just witnessed. They look at each other asking the neighbour or their partner what our family farçe was. I'm afraid this is just the beginning of another sorrow but the worst is gone. For the night, at least. I let out a long, exhausted sigh: God knows if it wasn't tough but I can breathe now. We can breathe again. And plan a counter attack to his pathetic scheme. I instinctively reach for her hand and take it into mine, uncaring of the crowd around us. "I didn't think the boy would actually do it" Yes, I tried to convince myself of that. I wanted to believe that he was apparently better than he actually is, that he wouldn't stoop so low...but what is my life if not a collection of disappointments from men? "Should I be worried?" There's a hint of concern in Adele's voice. I can't blame her: I don't recognise my nephew anymore, I can hardly tell how seriously we should consider his threats. "I doubt it, but he's not to be underestimated when his pocketbook is in peril" I know my answer offers little comfort but I continue, squeezing her hand to prove my loyalty to her: "Whatever he tries, though, I'll be by your side" Adele smiles down to our hands before meeting my eyes again. "I have faith in you, Zetta. Thank you" Despite I can see more than understandable concerns and fears written all over her face, she squeezes my hand back. I take a deep breath. The weight of the latest events is washing over me. "I'm going to retire to my room and prepare a message to my lawyers. If anyone can figure out a way to  keep you out of jail, it's them" "Are you certain?" I give my love a sad smile. "There's little certain in this life, sweetheart, but lawyers with a high hourly rate? They're as close as we'll get" We just smile at my little mot d'esprit. "This wasn't exactly the soirée I wanted, but I suppose the truth had to come out sometime." I continue. I look at her in the eye as I add: "You're a true friend, Adele" I lean towards her so only she can hear. "And I'll wait up for you tonight, if you'd like" Please come find me later, my love. We will find a way to keep you out of trouble, we'll meet the dawn if need be and forget our sorrows and the unpleasantness of this soirée in each other arms. To my surprise, Adele wraps her around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. It takes me a moment to process it but I've never felt closer to tears. Surrounded by the familiar warmth of her body. I know someone is probably, surely staring with a bit of curiosity and malice after the melodrama we offered for free tonight but I don't care. Not now. So I hug her back and give a quick gentle stroke to her cheek as I part. After one last lingering weak smile at her, I gesture Sabine that it's time for our retreat. With the last ounce of strength left in me to keep my act on, I wave diplomatically at the gossiping guests and take my leave, my little Napoleon in tow. The show's over, lads. The show's over...
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chlouais · 4 years
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Skam (+ Remakes) Faves
i’ve been thinking about this for a while and i wanna know who/what people love!! (this is NOT a ‘who/what is the superior character/clip’ it’s just a ‘i wanna know who/what you vibe with’ post) so fill in your faaaaaves and say where they’re from
First, which remakes you watch: i do everything except wtfock and skam us, so OG, france, italia, druck, españa, and netherlands
AND NOW FOR THE FAVES
season overall: this is a toss up for me between druck s3 and s4. druck s3 blew me out of the water and druck s4 definitely did the best job with the sana season (out of three total though rip) and i love amira mahmood. but they only gave her seven (7) episodes and that’s a crime so s3 is gonna come out on top
pool scene (isak/even first kiss): it’s gotta be france y’all. doing it in the setting for polaris? fucking galaxy brain. druck also comes so fucking close because wow :’)
Eva character: oh FUCK THERE IS NO CONTEST it’s isa keijser <3 (NL)
Noora character: ele (italia). i am in love with her and i’ve honestly loved few characters as much as ele (also since there’s no s4 she hasn’t been a dick to sana so i can love her guilt-free)
Vilde character: engel!! (NL) REALLY closely followed by viri (españa). both these girls have OG lesbian vibes and i’m so proud
Sana character: amira mahmood (druck) and amira naybet (españa) are my whole world like damn,,, who let them be Like That
Chris character: i feel like it’s lowkey cheating to say cris from españa since she actually gets the isak season. but honestly all the chrises are so good??? like shit, alexia (france), sam (druck), janna (NL), fede (italia) and of course OG chris???? like fuck give me a girl squad made up of every chris character????
girl squad as a whole: that’s a tough call for me between españa and OG. like OG is OG but wowowow i think españa really nailed it with their girl squad. honorary mention for NL girl squad which is really magical but i never really got filled in on why imaan left and esra came in??
Jonas character: GIOVANNI GARAU (italia). i may be a lesbian but i would marry that boy
Isak character: i think i may actually need to not choose here. i know i made up this ask thing but i really don’t know. grandpa-sweater gay martino (italia)?? intense gay lucas (france)?? depressed-gremlin gay matteo (druck)?? freakin’ WLW cris (españa)?? fuck, y’all. i don’t know.
Mahdi character: both carlos and abdi!! druck mixed things up and they definitely represent those two members of OG boy squad in some sense but they don’t directly map on. regardless, i think they’re Good :) also special shoutout to my sweet boy hugo (españa) and my bi icon elia (italia)
Magnus character: still that carlos and abdi magic because getting rid of an actual magnus character was a stroke of genius also callout for basile (france) who is the literal worst character and drives me up the fuckin wall :)
boy squad as a whole: i gotta say either the italia boy squad or druck boy squad. they both have PEAK friendship chemistry
Even character: DAVID it’s david (druck) i love him he’s my everything (sorry eliott ((france)) ilysm and joana ((españa)) it’s just,,, david)
William character: edo (italia) :’) like wow i’m not gonna get into it but edo did everything so right (except for the things he has to do wrong cause plot, obvs)
Yousef character: s o f i a n e (france) like wow that boy is pure sunshine, followed really closely by mohammed (druck)
Elias character: idriss (france) makes me laugh all the time but omar and essam (druck) are TWO whole brothers? and the trio of mahmoodis is :’)
Penetrator Chris character: alex (france) because i love how they did more with his character (like in OG) and actually may have the eva character stay together with him?? would love
Eskild character: philippo (italia) is just. fantastic. and i love him as the noora character’s brother :’) and also ralph (NL)!! is so important to me!! plus when he met eskild i died?????????
Sonja character: as a character probably sonja (OG) but i am very in love with lucille (france) so,,, yeah im gay don’t judge me
Emma character: lmao well my url is literally based on chloé (france) SO y’all know where my allegiances lie (again im GAY)--that said i have so many big feelings for sara (druck)
Character special to a certain remake or someone i’ve forgotten! : special shoutout to LAURA (druck) and MAMA RAMETTA (italia) like wowowowow i love family members being present :)
y’all can do this too if you want!! most of my friends only do one remake so i’m not really sure who to tag but literally anyone who watches multiple remakes please tell me who/what you love and tag me
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wings-of-a-storm · 5 years
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LUCAS’ HELL NIGHT ANALYSIS: PART 2 OF 2
Well, with this piece, I have officially finished trying to give voice to all the  frenzied thoughts in my head after watching that terrible Friday night unfold for Lucas.
I think the hardest part was revisiting the anguish on Lucas’ face. That is going to haunt us all for a while, no doubt...
Alright so we are up to Lucas running for the exit of Chloe’s house after finding Eliott with Lucille and being publicly outed... That poor guy.
OPEN GANG WARFARE
I only realised upon watching this scene that you actually see the ripple of Lucas coming through the crowd before you actually physically ‘see’ him. Like people were actually flying across the screen because Lucas was shoving partygoers out of the way to get to the doorway. He was like a hurricane, leaving a trail of destruction before and after him. From our limited angle, there are at least two victims: Unknown Partygoer No.1, and the Bouncer.
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A minute of silence please for the victims of Lucas’ savagery. Particularly for Unknown Partygoer No.1 who was actually shoved aside the first time Lucas entered the house as well. :’)
Obviously I laugh otherwise I cry. It was actually heartbreaking seeing the lengths Lucas needed to go to to get out of there before he lost it completely.
I actually felt bad for Basile in this scene -- he was being really sweet and trying to grab hold of Lucas to, I dunno, support him? Calm him? Reassure him? He wasn’t to realise that that was the worst thing he could have done because Lucas needed space and distance from the heartbreak he had left behind in the house.
Things might have been ‘okay’ if Arthur’s patience hadn’t snapped; if he hadn’t escalated things further with that passive aggressive jab that was rather below the belt regardless of Lucas’ lies. Things could have been worse though -- there could have been actual punches instead of all the shoving and pulling. And the only casualty was Arthur’s glasses (which the petty part of me kind of revels in?). But still, getting into any physical altercation with your friends is extreme and just goes to show the pressure cooker Lucas’ life had become.
It is a shame the Gang had to reach this point, but they’ve all been kind of assholes to each other at one time or another. I think perhaps only Yann has been a good friend to everyone. Arthur, Lucas and Basile have all been hurtful at some point…
I wonder where Lucas and Arthur will go from here though; how they will make up in the school break if they aren’t forced to see each other in class. (Assuming David sticks to reality in his skipping of the hiatus?) This type of anger between them seems much closer to Marti and Elia than the og -- and it took the special powers of the love wizard Giovanni GaraU to piece their friendship and pride back together. Does Yann have the same touch? Time will tell...
ELIOTT KISSING LUCILLE
Lucas had already reached his breaking point when he engaged in a physical altercation with his friends. He had already lost control over his emotions and was incredibly vulnerable standing exposed in front of the yard. People were staring at him and Arthur was still screaming bloody murder from the doorway about wanting to slap the hell out of him. Of course it was at this moment when Lucas saw the man behind his heartache kissing the girl he said he had broken up with.
So much of Lucas seeing Eliott kissing Lucille was awful. Firstly, Eliott and Lucille could have just stayed inside the party, but them seeking out time alone outside is just so private and intimate.
Secondly, Eliott was the one initiating everything (something none of his counterparts did). He was the one cupping her face and smiling at her and going in for two kisses. Two!
And thirdly, yes, that smile of his as he was looking at her was meant to cut all of our hearts out. Eliott’s smile is like his strongest weapon even if he doesn’t realise it. He uses it as a shield and he uses it to express all the pure and lovely joy in his heart. When he walks into any room, that smile is the first thing you see. It’s nuclear -- even from far away, that smile absolutely knocks you out. And boy did it knock Lucas out.
I’m not sure I’d go as far as to say Eliott was giving Lucille the same smile Lucas gets. Eliott’s a very smiley person and even Lucas’ friends received that kind of smile when Eliott didn’t even known them. I feel like there is an extra level of giddiness to Eliott’s smile when he looks at Lucas. I wasn’t worried about him smiling at Lucille so much. Especially when I assume the context of it, which is...
Okay, so after Eliott was hurt by Lucas and feeling like he had to give him up so as not to be a burden to him, he would have been absolutely devastated. We saw his face in that corridor and that would have been him trying to hide most of it. I’m a little grateful we never saw the extent of Eliott’s private devastation...
But Eliott’s snap decision to cut Lucas out of his life, meant he was suddenly alone with this intense heartbreak, and probably feeling extra vulnerable because it related to that terrible force in his brain that he can’t control and that always messes his life up.
No matter how strained his and Lucille’s relationship had become in the end, she was still someone close to him who really knows who he is and has seen the worst of him. She is so safe. And since we have never seen Eliott with any friends at school, I imagine that Eliott is pretty isolated at the moment without her. It feels completely believable that he would seek Lucille out for that comfort and security. It would also make him feel better about his mental illness to know that there is someone in the world (excluding his parents who we have no information on aside from David’s headcanons), who sees that side of him and accepts it. He’s not alone with it.
Luckily for Eliott, Lucas made his comments about mental illness only a day or two after Eliott had broken up with Lucille. That meant there was a window of opportunity to try and repair things with her. It would have required a lot of effort on his behalf though, to be convincing enough for her to take him back even though he was secretly battling heartbreak over someone else. He might have even ironically used his mental illness as an excuse for their break up (actually, I am convinced he did because it will probably end up fuelling a certain comment from Lucille to Lucas about Eliott’s patterns).
What this means though is that Eliott has to stay convincing for Lucille: he has to be that happy boyfriend who wants to be with her, who just suffered a blip. If Lucille sees through him, he is in danger of being alone again. There is probably also an element of Eliott needing to convince himself that he will be happy with Lucille and can make their relationship work. The alternative of being alone after such a terrible year is just too painful.
So yeh, I’m not too surprised by all the smiles and kisses that Eliott was initiating with Lucille even though it hurts to see them. His instagram diary tells us the truth: that while he recognises the good parts of having Lucille as his girlfriend, it isn’t the same now.
(Side note: His ‘L and him’ caption breaks me! Like A) he is distancing himself from himself, and B) it’s like he is cherishing the letter L and finding comfort that he still has an L in his life. He can almost pretend it is the other L...)
LUCAS' FACE AFTER SEEING ELIOTT KISSING LUCILLE
Well, Lucas’s face after seeing Eliott smiling at Lucille, cupping her face, kissing her, doing things he can still remember Eliott doing with him not too long ago... That is a face that is going to haunt us for a long time. The level of fury in it, of betrayal... I’ve never seen anything like it in Skam. That expression not only cuts straight through your chest, it strangles your heart.
it was so powerful and clearly the exact moment Lucas reached the bottom of what he could endure. Like shit, place a copy of that face into a scientific journal under “Human breaking point.”
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When I think about that look and all the intense emotions swirling behind it, It feels like the dark twin of the look Eliott gave Lucas when he was playing piano. When Eliott looked at Lucas in that moment, you were just hit with those eyes, and it felt impossible to even begin describing all the different emotions in them. Lucas’ devastating fury holds a very similar power with all the complex emotions behind it. I consider it a ‘twin’ because Lucas’ eyes also seemed fuelled by love, but love that had been desecrated and turned into a wound against him...
(That gruesome lip curl when he glanced back at Arthur still yelling at him though. Oh damn that was fierce.)
Oh gosh guys, it was just so hard seeing Eliott kiss Lucille during the worst time of Lucas’ life. It was stomach-churning in a ‘I think someone just punched me in the gut’ way. Like, Lucas used to go to this guy for comfort and now in his time of need, when his ex-beard is yelling out his sexuality to strangers, when his friends are yelling awful things at him for everyone to hear, he not only doesn’t have Eliott to go to, but Eliott is so engrossed in the person Lucas always felt second-rate to. Eliott doesn’t even look up at the noise, he is completely oblivious to Lucas’ distress. Could Eliott feel any further away?
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I don’t even want to begin trying to imagine everything Lucas was feeling at that moment as he looked at Eliott and Lucille. It is just too devastating. It actually feels worse than what Eliott went through in the school corridor, because at least then Eliott had control over it. Eliott could walk away before ever having to see what Lucas’ face would look like if he learned of Eliott’s mental illness; before ever having to hear Lucas break up with him over it.
Eliott also had all the information over their break up while Lucas remains in the dark (hi Polaris). Lucas is the one who has to see the guy he is in love with for real kissing the person Lucas has always felt second-rate to. And after all those promises that they would be together because Eliott had chosen him...
And since Lucas does not have the information on their break up that Eliott has, all Lucas can see when he looks at them is: Eliott never loved me; Eliott played me; Eliott has been happy with Lucille while I have been so miserable I’ve barely had energy to get off the couch; Eliott lied to me; Eliott never needed space, he just used it as an excuse to get back with Lucille without guilt; of course Eliott doesn’t want to be with me, why would I be so stupid to believe that he did?
And then in the midst of all this gut-wretching pain and the slap of betrayal, Lucas glances back at his friends who he just fought with, who can’t understand what he is going through, who are still hurling really hurtful things at him from the doorway (well, Arthur is), and he is just over everybody.
It almost feels like he is standing in this awful triangle of snipers who have opened fire on the most raw parts of his life -- his sexuality, his family situation, and the man he loves humiliating him in front of everyone. It’s just way too much humiliation and exposure for one person to take. Of course he had to get as far away from everyone and that hellhole of a place as soon as possible.
What is extra fun is that the people behind Lucas seem to have pieced some of the puzzle together. They see his fighting with the Gang, they see the pained expression of his face as he looks ahead, and they all turn to see what he is looking at to cause such an unmistakably anguished face. They see Lucille and Eliott. Guess we’re going to have some fun rumours after all when each section of the party joins up what they have witnessed with Lucas at the epicentre…
LUCAS HURTING HIMSELF
We all had an inkling that the beginning of Lucas’ hell week would be the hardest version for the viewer to watch. I think overall, our assumption was proved correct and that is all because this is the first version where we have seen Lucas’ face in the peak of his anguish.
In comparison, Skam og and Italia gave their Isak/Martino some privacy with their pain. We only ever see Isak’s back as he falls to his knees and cries so loud you can hear it over the Kanye track. We only ever see the vague outline of Martino’s face in the darkness as he screams and cries into his hands (it was so dark, it was lucky we were even able to see the spit flying from his mouth as he screamed). You basically had to rely on all other senses to figure out the amount of pain that Isak/Martino were going through. I think that method is powerful in itself, don’t get me wrong. But in France, we see Lucas completely exposed to the anguish ripping his soul apart. And it is incredibly confronting.
At first when Lucas left the party and the camera was following him down the dark, empty path, it felt like og: Lucas had privacy with his rage and pain. But then everything got loud; all the senses were like doubled. The sound of him smashing his fist against the bars of the fence was so loud and violent. We had that kind of noise in Italia too but that was from the piece of wood Martino was wielding, not his actual hand. So not only do you have the deep echo of metal being hit by a fist, you vicariously feel the pain that that must be inflicting on Lucas’ hand.
And then after Lucas realises he has injured himself and his legs lose power and he slumps down to the floor, the street light completely exposes the expression on his face. His anguish is completely exposed -- and it is anguish that is actually distorting his face. He almost isn’t recognisable. I mean, it is hard to watch anyone suffering that level of pain, but it’s even more hard-hitting with Lucas because his expressions are normally so controlled and neutral.
Two things absolutely wreck me next in this scene. The first is the way he cradles his bleeding hand. When you’ve hurt yourself, of course your natural instinct is to hold the damaged area as if you can somehow contain the pain to that one spot. But since his hurt hand feels more like a physical representation of his emotional hurt, it feels like he is trying to cradle himself. I HATE IT, MAKE IT STOP, GUYS!
The second thing that wrecks me is how after he slumps to the ground and leans his head back -- which also crashes against the metal bars with a deep booming echo -- he mouths something as if to say ‘ow’, like he is just hurting all over, no matter what he does.
And through all of it, he is crying without any sound because the emotion is coming from such a deep place in him. Until you see the numbness take over…
I’ll say it again: it is highly confronting. I can’t even bring myself to take screencaps of it.
I mean, that’s probably why og and Italia took a step back -- because that level of pain is so private and awful, it’s almost wrong for us to witness it. But, well, France plays dirty.
LUCAS HAS NO BEDROOM
Did I just say France plays dirty? Because they are about to double that claim by reminding us all of their trump card: that Lucas has no place to cry privately. His bed is literally in a communal living area while Manon goes through her own grieving in his bedroom.
When a person is as wounded by life as Lucas is right now, it is so essential to have a safe space all to yourself to be able to grieve in. Particularly for someone as reserved as Lucas, who won’t let anyone see any hint of his pain at all (except for this Friday night when his depression was so extreme, he had no energy to move in front of his friends and he couldn’t hide it anymore). How the hell is this poor kid supposed to grieve in a communal living room?!
And that also raises another question: how long did Lucas stay slumped on the cold concrete path on Friday night? If that was the best privacy he had, it was probably a long time. So yeh, thanks for that, France! Like this whole clip didn’t hurt enough…
A TINY BIT OF HOPE TO END ON…
What is unfortunately so hard with Lucas is how reserved he is with his emotions. He is such an island and that makes it hard for others to be able to help him. When Mika reached out to him on Thursday, he got a defensive eye roll. When Yann tried to reach out to him on Friday, he got grumpiness and a hurtful ‘It has nothing to do with you.’ It’s really hard to see Lucas push people away like that and just suffer so many things alone.
This week is going to be such an important turning point for him though. He will finally make that step to trust in others and share the pain that has been slowly drowning him. He has no other choice because he cannot mentally survive like that any longer. And when Lucas starts to open himself up more to his friends and roomates and starts to value that process, it is going to put him in such a healthy place to be able to be that support for Eliott when Eliott’s secrets are exposed and he becomes highly vulnerable.
Lucas’ journey is really tough right now but he is going reconnect with people and with life and be the best person he can be once he starts to accept help. It’s going to be such a rewarding journey to go through with him. <3
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lostximagination · 3 years
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I hate drawing new refs but I’m making steady progress on at least starting them
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bleuebirdarchive · 5 years
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an in depth look at veronica’s parents, her childhood, and how it affects who she is
emotional loneliness is so distressing that a child who experiences it will do whatever is necessary to make some kind of connection with the parent. These children may learn to put other people's needs first as the price of admission to a relationship. Instead of expecting others to provide support or show interest in them, they may take on the role of helping others, convincing everyone that they have few emotional needs of their own. Unfortunately, this tends to create even more loneliness, since covering up your deepest needs prevents genuine connection with others.
meet the parents
DORIS  LUCILLE  HOROWITZ.
born  june  1st  in  ann  arbor,  michigan  to  abraham  horowitz  and  his  wife,  laura.  doris  is  the  middle  of  three,  an  older  brother  (  Abe Jr.  )  and  younger  sister,  Anne.  Like  the  rest  of  her  siblings,  Doris  excelled  in  school  with  some  interest  in  the  arts.  Through  her  high  school  and  college  careers,  she  involved  herself  in  theatre,  both  backstage  and  on.  She  enjoyed  a  childhood  full  of  summer  trips  to  their  lake  house. The  Horowitz’  being a  well  known  and  liked   family  in their  community,  she  had  no  shortage  of  friends.  After  graduating  high  school,  she  would  go  on  to  attend  Ohio  State  University,  majoring  in  English.
FRANK  CHRISTOPHER  SAWYER.
Born  on  September  14th  in  Columbus,  Ohio  to  Gordon  and  Theresa  Sawyer.  Frank  is  the  youngest  of  five,  from  oldest  to  youngest,  his  siblings  rank:  Terry,  Robert,  Sarah,  Anthony.  Hailing  from  a  family  of  strict  Catholics  and  a  lineage  of  lawyers,  studies  were  taken  very  seriously  in  the  sawyer  household.  along  with  school,  frank  did  well  in  football,  a  high  school  favorite  in  his  time.  after  graduating,  he  went  on  to  Ohio  State,  and  then  would  graduate  from   capital  university  law  school.
RELATIONSHIP.
frank  and  doris  would  be  introduced  by  a  mutual  friend  at  a  graduation  party  in  1965.  The  couple  dated  just  one  year  before  tying  the  knot  on  may  12th.  frank  would  begin  the  Sawyer  &  johnson  law  firm  with  life  long  friend,  anthony,  that  same  year   in  defiance,  ohio.  the  newlyweds  would  settle  into nearby  sherwood instead.  four  years  into  their  marriage,  they  would  decide  to  have  one  miss  veronica  sawyer.
veronica's upbringing
veronica’s childhood is brim full of education. being an only child with cousins hours away, she didn’t have much in the way of playmates. in fact, veronica was brought up on chess more than dolls, and her toddler years were ruled by educational toys rather than those meant purely for entertainment. being naturally gifted only pushed her parents mode of monitoring further and she began piano and dance classes at the age of five.  this defined lack of normal childhood play or association with children her own age left veronica to become relatively reserved, more mature, and less able to connect to her peers. she always became a deeply lonely and isolated girl. where normal children might vent to friends or classmates, veronica relied exclusively on her diary (something given to her to help her express her very volatile and difficult to manage emotions, as well as a method to practice writing for school). veronica had few toys, save a stuffed bear given to her by her maternal grandparents at her birth, no dr. seuss or comics, and wasn’t really allowed to watch cartoons or regular childrens programs. she read national geographic obsessively and played go by herself in her room or croquet with her parents. this formed a natural lack of social skills and that, teamed with her awkward early years appearance, meant bullying and being ostracized at school. her only friend throughout the whole of her childhood was a girl she knew from church, betty finn.  her genius iq and over the top home education landed veronica the opportunity to skip middle altogether, but the counselor working at sherwood middle at the time had noted veronica’s isolation and warned against the decision, which her parents ultimately agreed with.
the affect
veronica’s isolated and dry childhood led to her inability to really form a connection with others. she struggles to really process her emotions, as she has a bell jar around her own thoughts and feelings. veronica’s bleeding heart and belief that she has been given some deeper understanding of the world leads to something of either a savior complex or, on the more drastic end, a god complex. while she cares very deeply for others, it’s near impossible for her to feel a genuine kinship. her lack of emotional attention and physical affection from her parents has left her almost desperate for it in others. she idealizes romantic relationships and will most likely always feel closer and place those relationships above the friendships she may have at the time. veronica is a genius, she’s very confident, and unbothered by others opinion of her. but she is also deeply emotional, exceptionally lonely, and fairly callous.
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deathbyvalentine · 5 years
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Strahd Fic
Fragility
There was a thread between between them, tight and liable to snap at any moment. She couldn’t tell if it was hate or friendship, if she had broken his trust or earned him. She had never been the best at reading people (too many comings and goings, too many goodbyes) and in just a day of knowing him, Ezra had shifted. The moment he had plunged the stake between his brother’s ribs, he had changed. Now he was unknowable. Something that couldn’t be learned, his thoughts and emotions his own. 
She had liked the warm, earnest boy she had met the day before. You didn’t see too much of kindness when you made your living in clearing out the dark corners of the world. She tried to see the best in everyone, to let the light inside her never dim, but then you saw what life could do to people like Ezra. His soft edges sharpened into points which she would hate to be on the end of. He would be a dangerous monster hunter. She just hoped he would be able to tell who the monsters were. They weren’t always easy to recognise. 
In her morning prayers, knees to dirt, she prayed for him. She rarely prayed for herself - she knew she was blessed. It was the ones outside the Order that needed Torm the most. She prayed for his mother’s health, for his own wounds to heal, but mostly for light to enter his mind and calm the storm that was undoubtedly raging within. She didn’t pray for riches or fame. She just prayed for him to be happy. 
She stood up, brushing off the leaves and mud, and eyed up the towering mists in front of her. A vision flickered across her mind of her returning by the same path, older, wiser, perhaps more scarred. Meeting him again at the tavern, trading stories and smiles. They would make something of themselves, she was sure. Saving people. Fixing what needed to be fixed. Killing monsters. With a small smile on her face, she pressed forward into the fog. 
Elsie Trying to Pray
It felt odd to be on her knees, not begging for her life or cringing in fear/shame. Once her knees were toughened from the amount of time they spent on the floor. Now she felt every rock and crack. She interlaced her fingers, letting them sit in her lap. 
It was morning, hard to tell as it was, the sky so full of mist. The courtyard was silent, tomb-like, the grass wet with dew. She turned her face up towards the sky, closing her eyes, making believe she could feel the heat of the suns rays on her face. She breathed out, steadily, before remembering how very pointless that was.
“Hey Torm.” Her voice sounded thin and frail in the cold air. “It’s been a while.” She waited for a long moment, not quite sure what she expected. No warmth flared in her chest. No comfort resounded through her mind. Nothing came. “I just... I’m just letting you know I’m still here I suppose. I don’t know if you are. But I am. I don’t know if that even means anything now.” Torm was not known for showing favour towards vampires, or indeed anything that preferred to walk at night.
She opened her eyes, wondering if anything could hear her through the veil drawn over Baraovia. Or if anything was even trying to talk to her. She stood, brushing water droplets off her skirts, seeing the outline she left in the soft grass behind her.
Moulin Rouge AU
Elsie tossed the bangles to the side, the metal clattering onto the dresser, making the other girls jump. She sat at her stool, hands scrabbling uselessly at the strings on her corset, attempting to loosen them. She gave up as Lucille approached to do it for her, her hands quick and clever. As she worked, Elsie looked at herself in the mirror. Glitter still streaked her cheeks, jewels still sparkled in her hair. Her lipstick was faded from kissing so many cheeks. Strahd would be happy - there had been coins and bills littering the floor like confetti when she left.
Elsie was not happy. Elsie was filled with discontent and disdain. Disdain for the men who sat in their finery and hooted like owls, disdain for the girls that allowed themselves to feel flattered by their attention, disdain for herself for still being stuck her. Out of the convent and one type of restriction, straight into another. Habits and corsets constricted just the same. She would not be here forever, but she was staring to wonder when her ever after would come. 
She slipped off the dress, shrugging on her softest dressing gown, her aching shoulders and back finally getting a reprieve. Idly, she began signing a few pictures of herself, to be given to patrons who were especially obliging. Her mind went back to the performance today and the crowd she had moved among. 
Most of their faces did not stick in the mind. They blended into each other, indistinguishable. One crowd was the same as the next. But she had noticed something unusual this evening, something that she remembered. There had been a man and he wasn’t looking at her. Not exactly. Sometimes he would glance up and study her, before looking down at the napkin he had unfolded in his lap, his pen moving along it furiously. He didn’t make a noise. He didn’t cheer or holler or clap. He watched and he wrote. 
She wasn’t quite sure if she was offended or not.
Elsie Meeting Rudolph
She slammed her hands against the wood of the table, eyes blazing with righteous fury. She refused to hide her scorn or her disbelief, every inch of her the picture of a paladin. 
“So you want us to wait? To doom these people for Torm knows long more of this?” 
“I do not believe the time is right - “ “And when will it be Rudolph? When you’ve finally gathered your courage from underneath a bar?” He looked at her coldly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. She knew this look. It was the ‘I am your senior and you will listen to me’ look. He opened his mouth, and her patience dissipated entirely. 
“You know, I was hoping my impressions about you gathered from both your sons was wrong. I was hoping you were as brave and as valiant as they would have had me believe. Maybe I did mistake your identity after all. You surely cannot be the great Rudolph, monster hunting father of Ezra. He would never be such a coward. I could never tell his son such a thing.”
She had went too far and she knew it. He stared at her, as though he were judging whether violence was in fact a suitable answer for the offence she had caused. Instead he chose silence and absence - he left, the door slamming behind him like a clap of thunder. Elsie’s chest heaved. She supposed she was doing this alone. Idly, she wished Ezra had come with her. He would have put his father both to rights and to shame.
Then/Now - Vampire Squad
Lucille - relaxed, pleasant, flirtatious: stoic, emotionless, tense Lucille sat on her chair, braiding the hair of the girl sat between her legs. Her fingers were deft and clever, plaiting flowers and petals in every other cross. Now and again she would lean down with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her ordermate’s head. They were close, but Lucille was close to a lot of people. She enjoyed the company of the woman of her order, always spending time intertwined with them, always pushing them to be better. She liked evenings like this best - aching after weapons practice, pleasantly tired, warm with the efforts of the day. 
Lucille pulled her knees up to her chest, staring into the crackling fire. She ignored the chatter of the other lieutenants. She got lost in her thoughts, still as a statue, not participating even slightly in the group horseplay. She only lasted another hour before she stalked from the room, walk graceful and decisive. She could never be around other people for too long. Before it started to hurt.
*
Adam - Open, friendly, warm: odd, withdrawn, sardonic
Adam grinned, tossing an apple in the air and catching it one handed. It was a warm summer’s day, the type that felt like the beginning of a fairytale. There were birds singing, butterflies twitching through the grass. Soon Irene would have to go home and he would too, but for now they could just sit here and talk. Later, he would not be able to recall what they talked about, but in the moment it seemed urgent and vital. At some point, Marina put her hand in his and he didn’t let go, though his cheeks were pink and his heartbeat hammering.
Adam stood in the middle of the clearing, face impassive. The rain hammered down, plastering his curls to his skin. Strahd was in one her more frightening moods, pacing up and down, waiting for the messenger that would tell her exactly how successful her spies were. He was careful not to let even so much of a flicker of recognition go across his face when she said her name.
*
Othello - Happy, positive, loving; Aggressive, insincere, charming
His laugh was the sound of pure joy. He buried his face deep into his lover’s chest, the smell like the scent of home. Behind him one of his order wolf whistled, but the sound only made him laugh harder. The deva wrapped his arms tighter around the shorter man, pressing kisses to his temples every few seconds, so overcome with the love of existing.
Othello let the body drop, not even bothering to prevent the noise. If any of the innkeepers workers heard it and decided to make the mistake of checking up on him, they would be next. He wiped the back of his mouth free of the last few droplets of blood. He was sated, for now. But in an hour or so the boredom would return and he’d have to think of something else to amuse him.
*
Elsie - Innocent, strong, kind; quiet, untrusting, sarcastic.
Elsie pressed her hands between her knees, learning forward, eyes sparkling with interest. The priests were arguing about some point of theology she had never even considered before. She wanted to make notes but she didn’t want to disturb the flow by daring to move. Instead she listened, rapt, wondering if she would ever be able to talk like these enlightened priests. 
Elsie slammed Othello to the wall with a single hand, baring her teeth as though she were a cornered animal, her frustration only growing as he laughed at her. Her temper always seemed so close to the surface nowadays, threatening to boil over and burn those around her. She would fight it, but she didn’t want to. If people were afraid of her, maybe they would stay the fuck away.
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filmstruck · 6 years
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Four Reasons Why You Need Vincente Minnelli’s THE PIRATE (’48) in Your Life NOW by Jill Blake
At any given time, FilmStruck offers a truly embarrassment of riches: from dynamic, groundbreaking world cinema to bizarre cult films to Hollywood classics, including the new TCM Select programming, featuring a constantly rotating, curated collection by the wonderful, inventive programmers at TCM and FilmStruck. FilmStruck also offers impressive collections featuring the work of some of Hollywood’s greatest directors, from their most popular, well-known films to rare, underrated gems. Right now, FilmStruck has assembled a comprehensive line of programming honoring the great director Vincente Minnelli, who was one of the most creative directors at a time when Hollywood studios maintained tight control on their impressive stable of talent. Minnelli could really do it all: melodramas, light comedies and musicals, his first musical (and first feature-length film) being CABIN IN THE SKY (’43), featuring an all-black cast, which was virtually unheard of at the time. (It was the first all-black musical in at least 14 years and was one of only four major studio films to have a predominately black cast). Some of the greatest stars of the era worked for him: Red Skelton, Lena Horne, Spencer Tracy, Kirk Douglas, Lana Turner, Lucille Ball, Deborah Kerr, Frank Sinatra, Shirley MacLaine, Louis Jourdan, Leslie Caron, Gregory Peck, Lauren Bacall, Glenn Ford, Elizabeth Taylor, Judy Holliday, Dean Martin and of course Gene Kelly in three films and Judy Garland, who married Minnelli in 1945, giving birth to daughter Liza in 1946.
Throughout his long career, Minnelli was one of the masters of the studio musical at its peak, directing or co-directing at least a dozen, including a legendary professional partnership (for better or worse) with his wife, Judy Garland, and frequent collaborator Gene Kelly. One of those collaborations was the musical adaptation of the 1942 stage comedic play The Pirate, written by S.N. Behrman. Featuring songs written by the great Cole Porter and filmed in luscious Technicolor, THE PIRATE (’48) is a feast for the eyes and an underappreciated gem in MGM’s impressive musical canon. This was the second of three collaborations between Gene Kelly and Judy Garland, and is by far the most unique—and arguably their best. (Yes, I will fight you on this point.) So, here are four very simple reasons why THE PIRATE is amazing and needs to be a part of your life right now.
Gene Kelly Can Make Anything Move Rhythmically—Even a Cigarette
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Gene Kelly’s gypsy performer Serafin knows how to work a crowd. And he really knows how to work the ladies. In the number “Niña,” Kelly sings about his healthy thirst for women and their swooning in response. In one particularly confident and sexy moment, Kelly twirls a cigarette in his mouth before kissing one of his admirers, blowing smoke afterward. This moment sets the fun, ridiculous tone for the rest of the film.
Judy and Gene Are ON FIRE!
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Gene Kelly and Judy Garland had a wonderful on-screen chemistry and supportive off-screen friendship. Even through Garland’s most difficult and trying moments in her personal life, which had reached a devastating peak during the production of THE PIRATE, Kelly was a devoted friend, offering support and lifting Garland up when she needed it most. While her life was in chaos and she was in fragile health, both because of her failing marriage to Minnelli and her crippling drug addiction, Garland brought her best. Kelly and Garland bring a steamy romance to the screen, which is seductively played out in the “Mack the Black” number, which features the two stars engaged in a very sexy kiss that pushed the limits of the Production Code.
Hot Pants Explosion at the (MGM) Factory
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Yes, I just made a reference to a song by The B-52’s, and yes it’s a completely appropriate description for THE PIRATE. Gene Kelly is well-known for his incredible dancing talents…but he’s also well-known for his more, um, impressive physical attributes. Being a dancer, and a confident, athletic one at that, Kelly’s muscular physique was often on display. During the “Pirate Ballet” number—a fantasy sequence—Kelly leaves little to the imagination in skin-tight black hot pants (well, it’s more like a romper, but let’s not worry about technicalities) as he loots and pillages and fights off pirates, swinging a shiny cutlass, swinging on ropes and spinning around with a large silver spear. There is fire, explosions, gold, flintlock pistols and muscles. Lots and lots of muscles. It’s a carefully choreographed sexual fantasy, conceived out of the mind of Garland’s character Manuela. Kelly’s dancing in this number is the very definition of masculinity, exuding sexual confidence and unafraid to appeal to anyone and everyone’s taste.
Be A Clown: The Original “Make ‘Em Laugh” 
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I love SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN (’52) and I love Donald O’Connor’s solo, vaudeville-style routine to “Make ‘Em Laugh.” But did you know that the song, written by Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown, was plagiarized from Cole Porter’s “Be a Clown” in THE PIRATE. Yep, that’s right. Porter didn’t file a complaint, though, despite the fact that “Make ‘Em Laugh” is by far the more popular song and dance routine. But the “Be A Clown” number serves as a charming close to THE PIRATE, featuring a two-part routine with Kelly dancing alongside The Nicholas Brothers, Harold and Fayard (Kelly and Garland fought to have them featured in the film) in an acrobatic number that has to be seen to be believed. The second half of the number features Kelly and Garland in full-clown make-up, which sounds like pure nightmare fuel, but it works. And it’s absolutely adorable.
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margridarnauds · 6 years
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1789, ronan/laz, and laz | terra nova, wash/mira, mira
I bet you were wondering if this was ever getting done. Here, have some of my slightly sleep-deprived thoughts. 
1789
Favorite character: Lazare de motherfucking Peyrol, for all of his (4) scenes.
Least Favorite character: You’re probably expecting Artois or Ramard. True, Ramard is absolutely noxious in the French version and…there in the Takarazuka version, but he has his moments, and he’s pretty adorable when he tries to rescue Olympe from Artois. Artois, while being….Artois, is pretty magnetic as a villain due to being played by Miya Rurika and managing to steal the show right out from under everybody’s feet everytime he’s on stage. No. The real threat is someone far more unassuming, someone that floods every moment he’s on the screen with dread. Someone who refuses to take no for an answer. Someone who DEFINITELY DID NOT HAVE AN AFFAIR WITH THE QUEEN OF FRANCE. MOTHERFUCKING FERSEN. The actress who plays him has such a phenomenal voice in the Takarazuka version and does so well with it that it’s hard, but Axel von Fersen is a dweeb and deserves at least one Peyrol Certified Bitchslap™. (Also, in real life, HE WAS A PLAYER. AND A BIT OF AN ASSHOLE IMO IF YOU READ HIS LETTERS, BUT THAT WAS PRETTY NORMAL SO I CAN EXCUSE IT. BUT HE WAS A PLAYER.) Now, I know this is 1789 and history is dead (poor, poor historical!Artois), but Fersen just…doesn’t really add anything with his presence. He’s there, he’s bland, he ups the already unfortunate heterosexual quotient of the show, and then I try to move on. And, also, while I am a member of the Slap Ronan Mazurier Club, I also think that GOING AFTER A HUNGOVER PEASANT. ARMED WITH A STICK. WHEN YOU HAVE A RAPIER. ISN’T GOOD FORM. Oh? He insulted your girlfriend? SO’S EVERYBODY ELSE, DUMBFUCK.
5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Laz/Ronan, Solene/Olympe, Olympe/Ronan/Lazare, Necker/Artois, Marie Antoinette/Olympe (in the sense of an unrequited thing that helped her to grow; not so much as an actual relationship)
Character I find most attractive: Solene. Like, was that a question? Thank you, final, ongoing proof of my bisexuality. 
Character I would marry: Olympe or Solene
Character I would be best friends with: Olympe, though I’m not sure how she’d deal with my sense of humor. I would say “Charlotte” but I’m not sure re: the age gap there, though she seems to be fine trailing along behind Danton. 
a random thought: I’ve been going over Solene’s scenes a lot for my WIP, trying to scoop out what characterization I can, and one thing that was really striking listening to the Takarazuka version is this mixture between power and insecurity. Like, she’s obviously deeply hurt by Ronan hurting her and, even though I don’t LIKE a lot of what the Zuka version did to Solene for various reasons, I do like that they have it as being DIRECTLY addressed to Ronan as a call-out. So you have her staring at him and saying she’s been abandoned and she didn’t have a choice while also talking about how Ronan’s entered her realm and how the men “submit themselves” to her. Like, I would never want to gloss over the harsh realities of a prostitute’s life at this time because it was REALLY dangerous, especially for a woman like Solene who seems to be working independently, without the (somewhat dubious) protection of a Madame or pimp, but she does seem to find a way to take some power in it that she would never have found as a farmer’s wife. I’m really glad that, despite the fact that this production really sanitized Solene (which, it’s to be expected; it’s Takarazuka), they still were able to bring in some of that grit. 
An unpopular opinion: The thing with 1789 is that opinions that are unpopular with one section of the fandom are popular with another and vice versa, as small as this fandom is. Ronan Mazurier is an idiot, but I don’t ABSOLUTELY hate him and I can actually like him, especially when I’m writing him and ESPECIALLY when I’m writing him outside of canon. “Je Veux le Monde” is interesting not just because Solene is being badass (she is!), but also because of the way the show utilizes violence even while the lyrics of the song condemn the bloodlust of revolutionaries like Ronan. Even though I can like both versions, the Takarazuka production saved the show. Peyrol’s troops on pillars during “Nous ne Sommes”>Dancing Table Robespierre. I will never understand the appeal of Salieri/Lazare as a ship. As much as I utilize Kinky!Lazare, I’m not really fond of Sadist!Lazare, since it robs him of a lot of whatever nuance the French production gave him (It’s not much, but I’ll take it). I think pretty much every production we’ve seen thus far did a cop out by not showing what really happened on July 12 instead of just “Bad Royalists attack poor protesters” (I’ll give a hint: It involved rocks. Thrown at the cavalry.) As much as I like Solene and Lucille Desmoulins as friends (WOMEN. BEING FRIENDS. IT’S A MIRACLE), it makes literally no sense why a middle class girl like Lucille, enamored with Rousseau, would casually befriend someone of such a lower class, especially when, at this point, she’s Danton’s mistress and a former (?) prostitute. Okay, I think I’ve said something to piss off every section of the fandom, Mission Accomplished. 
My Canon OTP: This comes with a CANON? Oh God, the French version more or less nixed this but Marie Antoinette/Louis were adorable historically and I will do literally everything in my power to bring that into fics. It seems like, despite being in an arranged marriage, they were deeply, passionately in love with each other and those last few years really brought them together. Also, on the other side, Lucille/Camille Desmoulins are…heartbreaking, historically. They loved each other so much and, when he died, she basically lost the will to live. Some of her last reported words before they took her to the scaffold were, “They have assassinated the best of men. If I did not hate them for that, I should bless them for the service they have done me this day.” They left behind a son, Horace, just a year old.
My Non-canon OTP: Laz/Ronan is the Ultimate OTP for this one.
Most Badass Character: French!Solene fucking shit up is my sexual orientation. In productions where she isn’t there, then Lazare, by sheer virtue of the fact that we see him most in combat situations, he seems to be the only officer in Paris who ACTUALLY DOES HIS JOB instead of dicking around in Versailles, and he climbs out of The Pit to shame revolutionaries.
Most Epic Villain: I firmly believe that one of 1789′s biggest sins in that they’ve never quite latched onto a firm villain. You’ve got Peyrol, you’ve got Ramard, and you’ve got Artois, but as far as serious, developed threats? It’s hard. But look, we all know I hate fucking Artois. I truly do loathe the little bastard. BUT. He’s also pretty damn iconic and Miya Rurika is obviously having the time of her LIFE in the role. Every single moment of “Je Suis un Dieu” is iconic because she’s finally been released into the wild. Like, the Extra Unmasking scene with a cloak, nailing that goth aesthetic? The fact that he declares himself a God IN THE CHURCH OF SAINT DENIS, the church of Paris’ PATRON SAINT? Casually using Ramard as a footstool? Putting on an ENTIRE SONG as a way of telling Ronan to shut up? The way he strides along the stage like he owns the place? Highkey flirting with Fersen? Iconic. He’s thoroughly despicable in every single way which makes the scene where Olympe points a pistol in his face so damn satisfying. And, the thing with Artois? HE WINS. The Royal Family will be killed, all of the young, idealistic revolutionaries we see here are going to turn on each other and die young, and Artois will take the throne, though he’s eventually yeeted off of it after six years during the July Revolution, with his successor, Louis Philippe, inspiring Les Miserables and Charles dying in exile. Still, for all intents and purposes, he gets exactly what he wanted, though you have to wonder if, eventually, so much loss and death of everyone around him, including his favorite mistress Louise de Polastron, won’t tear him apart. (I know, I know, Takarazuka Charles is an actual demon, but let me hope.) I’m really, really curious to see what the Toho cast is going to bring to the table, since it looks like we’re getting a VERY aggressive Laz, a slimier Artois, and a borderline heroic Ramard.
Pairing I am not a fan of: Ronan/Olympe in its pure, canon form; Danton/Solene (I have many, many issues with that one and Solene’s position in general, since we all know Danton’s a fuckboi who will eventually abandon her, hence why for once I prefer the French version where their relationship is seemingly a one-time thing); Charles/Lazare is interesting to play with as a part of Laz’s backstory but not something I’d want going forward because there’s no way that one can end well for Laz. He’s going to be stuck in the same patterns time after time again and he’ll remain loyal to a system that will eventually screw him over out of love for someone who lacks the ability to love him and who will use and manipulate him until the end. You could argue that he 100% deserves it but, tbh, my main interest in him is seeing if he can do better.
Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): I feel like every single character in 1789 (with maybe the exception of the Printing Press Bros, who work best as side characters) was screwed over. Olympe in the Forbidden Ending of the French version, shot down for Ronan’s angst (But, hey, final proof she’s a lesbian), Marie Antoinette in the French version, Louis XVI in the French version for the Throne Room Scene alone, Solene in any production not getting a really solid arc or characterization (and, in both Japanese productions, being watered down), and, tbh, I also feel like Laz really got the short end of the stick. I talk about the man a lot, but that’s mainly me filling in the blanks. It’s pretty damn obvious when you look at him as a character that he was added in at the last moment because the producers were shitting their pants over Matthieu Carnot’s contract after they wanted to stunt cast Louis Delort from the Voice. 
Favorite Friendship: The Printing Press Bros, as per history. Such a pity that one of them is going to turn on the other two... On a less tragic note, I like French!Olympe’s relationship with Charlotte and wished that it got more screentime. 
Character I most identify with: The very, very specific version of Lazare de Peyrol I’ve projected on in my mind. A lot of my character building for him comes from me more or less writing out what could have been for me and taking it up several notches. A lot of his little quirks (pacing around, for example), I take more or less directly from me (though you will notice that in the French Maniaque, even in the toned down one where he’s at the back of the stage, he’s always in motion, so I didn’t take it out of nowhere.) He and I both (according to my headcanons + the general age for a lot of officers, with could be preteen-14) were put into this position at a young age where we had to be adults, so the experience of childhood was really stunted in a way (note: This is also a BIG part of why I identify so much with Bres mac Elatha). As someone who was raised in such a conservative town and who parroted a lot of those views for years until I broke out of it, I also really get why he thinks the way he thinks and have a pretty vested interest in getting him out of it. I also really do identify quite a lot with Solene, specifically the French version where she and Ronan don’t have that reconciliation. It’s painful, but, in my experience, that’s a little more true to life in the sense that there are these family members who you never quite understand or get along with and who you think you’ll get one of these days, but that doesn’t happen and you’re left really trying to come to terms with that. That feeling of being abandoned, focusing more on the practicality of the Revolution, etc. I can definitely understand, as well as not really being able to trust anyone afterwards. 
Character I wish I could be: I mean, the problem with 1789 is that almost everyone you love is going to be dead in five years. I would normally say Solene; I do want a tenth of the badassery of “Je Veux Le Monde,” but I definitely don’t want the sheer amount of dark shit that she goes through. Olympe probably has the best chance of escaping, I like that sparkle cloak, she’s also very loyal, and and gets to slap Ronan (literally the best part of the French version), so maybe her?
Lazare/Ronan
(Note: All of the following has been done under the [correct] assumption that these two are in a full romantic relationship throughout the musical)
When I started shipping them: About a year ago, watching the Takarazuka version with subtitles
My thoughts: The OTP. They come from completely opposite experiences and completely change each other’s lives and ways of viewing the world, for the better and the worse. 
What makes me happy about them: Peyrol loves his boyfriend so much, he remembers his name after NEARLY A YEAR, he is basically completely infatuated within EIGHT DAYS of them being reunited (the length of time, roughly, between Maniaque and the comment about “The Comte de Peyrol’s affection”), he buys him coats, gets him a place to live, and lets him get away with things that no other human being could conceivably get away under his watch. Hell, in the French version, EVEN OLYMPE KNOWS, as shown by her dream and Ramard saying, “Monsieur de Peyrol, he’s yours. Do whatever you wish with him.” I think that if they’d ever had more time to be a couple, they would have really grown with each other a lot and learned to work past their quarrels, getting this really strong foundation with one another, finding a peace with each other that they would never have found in the outside world.
What makes me sad about them: Everything with this pairing is pain if you go with their canon ending. LIKE, Peyrol loves Ronan to a truly ridiculous degree, lets himself feel probably his first human emotion in possibly DECADES, and then Ronan dies. And, worse, in the Takarazuka version, he dies at Lazare’s hand. And over something that was purely because of Laz’s own pettiness and rigidity. (There was literally no reason for him to order his troops to fire on Papa du Puget, except for that he saw he was losing and decided to take one last shot at someone he deemed a traitor.) In all likelihood, since Laz is…Laz, he probably never told Ronan he loved him, thinking that everything he’d done was good enough when NO it wasn’t while simultaneously thinking that Ronan probably loves Camille and the others more than him, so Ronan probably spends his last moments thinking his boyfriend had just used and discarded him. And, the worst thing for me is that, while the French version seems to have a bit of a reconciliation in the afterlife, with the two of them embracing, in the Takarazuka version you can see Lazare looking at Ronan and then, when Ronan gets up there with him, turning his back. Which is probably just as much because the stage is actually rotating but, with a shipping lens….it’s depressing, since I tend to headcanon it as Laz being so guiltstricken by what he’s done that he can’t even look or speak with Ronan. 
Things done in fanfic that annoys me: As I talk about in more detail below, Creepy Crawly Lazare is a no. I think a lot of fics really take the power imbalance between them at face value and just go off of that, WHICH IS FAIR, given there are severe power imbalances, but such a big part of the relationship for me is also that, if we assume that Laz is willing to have an affair with a revolutionary, we have to assume that he’s completely, utterly smitten as well, and that, while Ronan’s too much of an oblivious walnut to realize it, Laz is completely emotionally compromised by him. He might have the social and economic power over Ronan, but Ronan also has him wrapped around his finger to a truly magnificent degree. (Which, if you look at Nous Ne Sommes with that lens, it becomes a matter of Laz really trying to convince himself that he’s still Old Lazare, still devoted to the Crown, that no, he’s not in love with him, and he ends up with a bodycount while still utterly failing.) And, also, I feel like Ronan post-Bastille VS Pre would take the relationship very differently. Like, in many ways, I think that if they kickstarted their relationship a year or so after the musical, you’d be looking at two very different people in a very different situation, with the scales tipped in Ronan’s favor. 
Things I look for in fanfic: LITERALLY ANYTHING INVOLVING THEM I WILL READ. 
My wishlist: Interactions? More interactions? Them to reinstate the original Maniaque? The ending to be revised so that it includes the first gay, interclass wedding while Artois throws a temper tantrum in the Church before being taken away by the Swiss Guards? Alright, in all honesty, if I can’t completely tear the original to shreds to give me the 100% gay version of 1789 I deserve, then I would like more scenes between the two of them, not even necessarily as more than rivals, but showing them as being linked to each other, like how the French version has him in the back during La Rue nous Appartient or how the Takarazuka version has him there during the Act 1 finale (which took La Rue’s place). I like the idea of Peyrol always kind of being there in Ronan’s mind as this looming threat. I would love to see Peyrol getting something more than just a couple of songs, because the fact that he’s not there for Ronan’s escape is just...odd to me. Like, is he asleep? On vacation? At Versailles? I would like to see him actually *react* to Ronan’s escape more, since that also makes him look bad. I’d like to see more of Peyrol’s concerns, seeing the mob growing, seeing Ronan getting involved in it, and having an “Oh God, What Have I Done?” moment, even if it doesn’t stick. I’d like a moment between the two of them when they realize how much they’re becoming like each other, as the Revolution takes bits out of both of them. On a noncanon level, I wish that there were more opportunities for them to work together as a pair. 
Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Despite my general headcanon that Laz is GAY GAY GAY, I do lowkey ship L/O after the finale, mainly courtesy of The Bernese Affair. I also lowkey, lowkey ship him with the random peasant that appears on his arm during “Pour la Peine,” played by Alan Grall, who was understudy!Ronan. Generally, however, I don’t think Lazare could be with anyone after Ronan. For once, he tried to put his heart in with his duty, and it failed miserably. Tbh, in any continuity where Ronan dies, I don’t really see Laz as surviving for much longer. He could throw himself into the Princes’ Army, fighting against the Revolutionary Forces, he could face the mob and die on the lantern, or any other combination of factors (as you saw in the Solene WIP), but I really don’t see Laz lasting long after this one. I think the version we’d see of him post-finale would be broken in a way that we’ve never really seen him broken and, the worst thing is, he wouldn’t have anyone to confide in. In a world where Laz had died instead of Ronan, in theory, if Ronan would TALK to her (unrealistic), he has Solene, maybe Charlotte, Camille, and Olympe. Hell, Danton probably wouldn’t even care and would at least try to get Ronan laid, get him out of the house, etc. even if Ronan would be absolutely miserable company. Laz doesn’t have that. He has his men, and they more likely than not follow him out of a mixture of respect and fear. As a result, I see him trying to bottle his life with Ronan, trying to keep it to himself, and eventually destroying himself over it. Ronan…I have a hard time seeing with anyone else. Definitely not Olympe. Camille, maybe. Robespierre, maybe, though either one has….problems, historically. And, tbh, I think they’d be too tame for Ronan. Look at the two people he’s paired with: A Royal Officer and the Queen’s Governess. He literally can’t seem to go for a relationship where they’re on the same team. (Yet another reason to kinkshame him). I’d honestly rather have him realize the Revolution is going to shit and travel back to the country where he, idk, rolls around in dirt for a little while to forget his troubles. (Note: In the Takarazuka version, you have Ronan committing himself to a life alone without Olympe and, even if this is a moment of Ronan being Extra…I think there’s a bit of truth to it. Ronan feels things in extremes: Love, hatred, grief, and I suspect that he would be inconsolable. Like, his initial reaction to his father’s death was to IMMEDIATELY get out of the area and swear vengeance, which I have my own headcanons about BUT, the point is, he’ll want a new start, outside of Paris, and I think he would throw himself into it with the same fervor he threw himself into the Revolution. Which actually parallels nicely with Artois swearing himself to celibacy after Louis de Polastron’s death.)
My happily ever after for them: The two of them manage to convince each other to run away from the Revolution together, going to England, Italy, or literally anywhere else bordering France. They both grow as human beings, with both of them moving increasingly towards the center. Laz leaves the Army and begins the process of healing himself and getting his individuality back, with Ronan occasionally napping on his shoulder while he’s practicing on the harpsichord. They don’t have children, but do have several animals (that Laz claims are Ronan’s), including at least one black kitten that SOMEONE (Read: Ronan) names Artois for its imperious manner. Olympe and Solene occasionally stay with them, with Solene and Lazare calling a truce for Ronan’s sake. The Mazurier siblings reconcile. They all deal with the trauma of the French Revolution together, as a family. Sometime after the heat of the Revolution dies down, probably around 1804, they go back to France, where Ronan helps Laz deal with his past and the trauma associated with it. By this point, society’s more or less accepted that they’re married and, with the decriminalization of homosexuality in 1791, there’s not all that much they can do except for, like, not inviting the socially awkward aristocrat to their salons. Oh, the shame. Peyrol will have to console himself by banging his boyfriend in every room of his chateau. They all outlive Artois.
Lazare de Peyrol
How I feel about this character: He is my aristocratic gay disaster son who needs to CHILL and commit 99% fewer homicides.
Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Ronan, Olympe, Charles (as part of his Tragic Backstory, unrequited), Happiness, the Whip, the Coat, Marat’s Printing Press, Louis XVI (as an unrequited thing pre-Ronan, instead of Charles). I could also be persuaded to ship Robespierre/Lazare, though I don’t think it’d ever really be a major thing since, tbh, they don’t have the same kind of history/attachment that R/L do.
My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: The sad thing with Laz is that we really don’t get any real relationships with him, besides his men and their attempts to get him to hook up with Ronan (which I read as mainly them thinking “HEY! If he gets laid, maybe he won’t have us flogged for every minor infraction!”) Charlotte as a sort of ward for Laz is a disaster waiting to happen, but it’s something that I think has a lot of potential in the sense that he’s never really HAD anyone to protect before and then there’s this street urchin who is more or less feral BUT she has her uses and eventually Laz is basically the equivalent of “I’ve only known Charlotte a day and a half but if anything happened to her I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself.” Which, Peyrol picking up ANOTHER stray. The good news is that Charlotte’s out of the danger stage as far as when i think Peyrol would have the most trouble dealing with kids, since she’s old enough that she still has a sense of independence, though I think they’d clash a lot as far as Laz wanting her to be A Proper Young Woman while Charlotte is…Charlotte. Also, on the reverse side, I like the idea of Papa du Puget (in a verse where Laz DOESN’T TRY TO KILL HIM) forming a sort of father/son bond with him.
My unpopular opinion about this character: Creepy Crawly Laz is a hard “no” for me. It’s not just that he’s more often than not portrayed as creeping on the wrong person, but it’s just…not anything in keeping with what we’ve seen of Laz thus far. I can’t see Laz as being the one who’s really forward in his relationship with Ronan, or really with anyone. I tend to headcanon him as more or less gray ace, with a strong focus on his work before he meets Ronan, which is part of why he reacts so STRONGLY to him. Like, he was minding his own business, doing his job, and then this PEASANT comes in and upsets everything and makes him feel tingly feelings that he’s really not used to. TBH I have a hard time imagining he’s even kissed someone pre-musical. (Okay, Takarazuka Laz I have an easier time with, but still.) And so he tries to put him in his proper place but…that doesn’t work well and then suddenly the peasant wants to kiss him and ABORTABORTABORT but it also feels…somewhat nice and, oh, that’s what the tingly feelings are. Consider that his opening lines to Ronan in Maniaque basically consist of, “Your father is dead and you’re an idiot. Also, do you want to betray your friends and become my trophy twink because I can arrange that?” That is not someone who’s experienced in any way. Like, he probably cries during their first time together and Ronan’s just there like “…Peyrol, Peyrol, are you alright? Did I do something wrong?” And meanwhile with Ronan we (unfortunately) know he’s very *physical* when it comes to people so, the second he realizes he’s got the hots for his father’s killer, he’s going to just…go for it. And then probably angst later. 
One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish we’d gotten more development with Laz in general, given that I think he has a lot of potential. Obviously, my ideal version of 1789 would be a romantic drama with Peyrol/Ronan and Solene/Olympe as our two cross-class relationships, with Ronan and Lazare potentially being the comic relief in the background. I would really like to see him go through an actual arc in the musical, with him reacting to the events of the Revolution, with Nous Ne Sommes being him having a sort of breakdown (which is how I’ve always personally interpreted the “Let it Go Lazare” video), which leads up to the Bastille. I like the idea of him gradually losing control over everything, with at least some of his men deserting, so that the position between him and Ronan gradually flips. (Personally, I’ve always liked the idea of “Nous ne Sommes” being about not just the revolutionaries, but about his own troops as they feel torn about firing on their own people and are increasingly resentful of their commander.) I would like to see some closure to Ronan’s revenge plot against him, even if it’s Laz being cornered by the mob as the Bastille falls. It’s kind of why I truly enjoy having R/L in mind for the Takarazuka version, because even though Ronan is shot down by Peyrol in the end, you know he’s probably managed to do exactly what he’d set out to do: Destroy him completely. And he did it without even really trying. There’s a sort of dark, dark irony to that one. 
My favorite friendship for this character: If I’m not going fully on poly with Ronan/Lazare/Olympe, I tend to still like Olympe and Lazare to be friends, as he probably has more in common with her than anyone else in the cast, seeing as they’re both devoted to the Royal Family, come from military backgrounds, have ties to the Bastille, and distrust the mob. I think it’s really important for Laz to keep up that relationship and to have someone like that to commiserate with. 
My crossover ship: Not a full-on ship, but I really like Wash and Laz’s friendship in the TN crossover. I like that you have these two military figures, both dedicated to their leaders, finding some common ground, I like that Laz finally has a superior who actually gives a damn about him and is supportive and encourages him to be a human being, I like how they both support each other in their disaster relationships. For the first time in his life, really, Laz has someone who is in his corner, so he doesn’t have to deal with this on his own, someone who acts as a mentor to him and really pushes him to be a better human being and a better officer (and who is willing to use the spray bottle on him when he contemplates homicide). Like, they both keep each other in check insanely well? Also, I miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight lowkey ship Lazare/Chauvelin from the Scarlet Pimpernel, mainly because he was played by Ronan’s actress at one point and CROSSOVERS + It’s another revolutionary and Lazare has a Type. And I also lowkey support Saint Just/Lazare in the sense that I think they would have an absolutely HILARIOUS dynamic given that SJ was fantastic when it came to military stuff and had a noted love of music and Laz is….similar, but on a different side. Like, you’d have SJ complaining about the officers not doing anything and Laz would be like, “See? See? This is what I’ve been say-What do you mean ‘abolition of privileges?” And then they’d bond over, like, balloons or telegraph wires before remembering they hate each other and SJ is highkey in love with Robespierre. Also, I strongly feel like at some Laz tried to propose to Oscar de Jarjayes as a way of showing how very heterosexual he was and. She knocked him on his ass. It was probably the closest he’s ever come to being sexually attracted to a woman (Not counting the Polyamory AU where he’s bi, but still).
Terra Nova
Favorite character: Wash
Least Favorite character: Lucas Motherfucking Taylor
5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Wash/Mira, Jim/Malcolm, Maddy/Skye, Mark/Josh, Lucas Taylor/A T-Rex’s Jaw...you know, the standards
Character I find most attractive: WASH. 
Character I would marry: Elizabeth, because we know her family’s rich and she’s insanely smart and caring. (Actual Josh Shannon quote: “Rachel, please don’t fuck my mom”). 
Character I would be best friends with: Maddy Shannon
a random thought: This is the kind of thing we’ve talked about, but It’s such a pity we got a conglomeration of four different scripts rather than one solid script. I can understand not going full on grimdark, but there are still so many traces of it throughout the script (the casual usage of torture, INCLUDING BY JIM), that it’s a pity they didn’t have the guts to do it. Even if they didn’t go through with the Cursed original script, they’d have done well to just stick to one coherent script with a solid idea of where they were going. Taylor: Antihero, villain, or Santa Steroids? Jim: Relatable everyman or hero? (ALSO: THEY SHOULD HAVE KEPT THE ORIGINAL REASON FOR HIM BEING ARRESTED.) It’s like everybody on the writing team had a different idea about the characters + Colony and what they were going for, with traces of that darkness edging in but never being addressed. The over-the-top dystopia of the original is, tbh, more than a little corny, but so is the “Taylor is always right! The government does surveillance on you because it loves you! You have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide! Love Big Brother! Look, Taylor interacting with children! Have you ever heard of a dictator who hangs out with children?” thing that the final product had, especially given that this is so very clearly a post-9/11 world where questions about state authority are STILL going around and things like the Patriot Act are still deeply controversial.  Obviously, character development is a thing and I would LOVE to see a gradual slide, but looking at where they went with what they had planned, I don’t see how they were going to pull it off, especially given that all they’ve really mentioned about S2 was that Taylor was going to go insane, which doesn’t seem to take into account his pre-existing authoritarian tendencies. (Also, the fact they just brush it aside as him being “crazy” feels deeply eh to me, since it seems like such a narrative cheap shot and more than a little unfortunate from a mental health standpoint.) There was so much they should have been building up to and bringing in from episode one, and they dropped it. I think, in the end, there were a lot of things that really damned the show in the end, potentially not fatal on their own, but I think that was the original sin of it, in a sense. If I’d been an executive looking the show over and deciding whether to renew or not, I’d not have hesitated over cancelling the hot mess, as enjoyable as it is. 
An unpopular opinion: None of the canon relationships were well done and it’s better to pretend that literally everyone realized they were gay post-finale. Also, GIVE ME MY DARK VERSION OF PARADISE LOST WITH DINOS DAMMIT. 
My Canon OTP: ........................................
My Non-canon OTP: Wash/Mira, even though it’s canon in my heart. 
Most Badass Character: Uh? WASH? Now that she’s gone, the Colony is fucked, which is obv. the real reason the show was cancelled. Also, Mira, surviving in the wild for as long as she has and putting Taylor in his place when he’s like, “I WAS HERE A WHOLE MONTH WITHOUT MY X-BOX.” And Mira’s like, “Bitch, where do you think we’ve been the last few years? At the Ritz?” 
Most Epic Villain: I’m not giving Lucas Taylor the benefit of this. Mira, but I don’t really see her as a villain. If they’d ever had the guts in a later season to call out Taylor’s bullshit, I think he had the potential to be FASCINATING, as Jim comes to terms with what he is, turning against someone he considered a boyfriend, and breaking free of following orders (or, you know, just assigning his role to Wash. That would work too.) Lead the audience in with talk of Utopia, “the ends justify the means,” then steadily deconstruct it with Taylor becoming more and more paranoid after the season finale, losing faith in his dreams, committing more and more atrocities and continuing to justify them. 
Pairing I am not a fan of: Anything? In? Canon? Lucas/Skye in particular. 
Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): All of them? But also, LET ! WASH ! GET ! CHARACTER ! DEVELOPMENT ! And Skye deserved a hell of a lot more than a half-baked spy arc and romance arc with Josh, especially given her connection to Taylor (which, I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again, if anyone’s taking down Taylor and we’re forced to admit Wash is dead, IT NEEDS TO BE SKYE WHO TAKES HIM DOWN. NOT JIM. SOMEONE WHO’S KNOWN AND LOVED HIM FOR YEARS.) We needed more of her relationships with people in the colony, especially Wash since Wash doesn’t really have *connections* and, if you’re going to toss away a character like that, you need to emphasize how much is MATTERS. And calling her “Alycia” every chance you get isn’t the same. Showing Skye mourning would have been a good step. And, tbh, I will always feel like they did Mark a disservice by cutting out his role as a Sixer spy and just making him Maddy’s Bland Straight Love Interest. The actor did a pretty good job selling it, and yet, in the end, all that made it the screen was oatmeal. You could have had an opportunity for a genuinely riveting Sixer Spy plotline, tying him and Skye together as friends and (reluctant) conspirators, while also giving some solid conflict to the characters, but they tossed it away. And killing Mark off in the finale would have made a lot more of an impact than Wash because the audience has SEEN him forge that (bland) relationship with Maddy, sees him joking with her little sister, and then fridges him. Like, you want to show you’re not playing around? DO THAT. RAISE THE FUCKING STAKES. 
Favourite Friendship: Wash/Taylor. I def. tend to view them as long-time comrades who have a lot of deep respect for one another and who trust each other unconditionally. That’s why, no matter what happens, that friendship breaking is going to be so painful. They’re really one of the only solid ties that they have to the past on Ter Noa, and, eventually, the past has gotta die. 
Character I most identify with: Maddy Shannon. 
Character I wish I could be: WASH. 
Mira/Wash
When I started shipping them: During our TN streams, thank you very much. 
My thoughts: Definitely not a ship I came in with, especially since the writers seem to have a phobia over female characters talking for more than a minute at a time when absolutely necessary, but definitely one of the most interesting pairings insofar as chemistry and potential is concerned. 
What makes me happy about them: These two work so well together on every level; they really match each other well even as they have that kind of conflict that makes a ship investing. You have these two complete badasses in love, angsty, but still staying true to themselves. 
What makes me sad about them: They have so few interactions on screen; we never really get anything with them aside from the one (beautiful) interaction. Also, despite what they both might want, their loyalties for the foreseeable future are so bound up that, even if they meet up occasionally, they can’t pursue a solid relationship (WHICH. OH. IN THE CROSSOVER. RONAN FEELING BAD THAT IN A WORLD WHERE SEEMINGLY EVERYTHING’S POSSIBLE, SOME COUPLES STILL CAN’T BE TOGETHER.)
Things done in fanfic that annoys me: WHAT FANFIC? Making Wash and Mira straight is obviously a no go. 
Things I look for in fanfic: To exist someplace besides my computer hardrive. 
My wishlist: TALKING? 
Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I don’t have any ships for Mira outside of Wash, tbh. If she’s with someone, it’d have to be someone who could match her and would be willing to deal with her rough edges as well as uncovering that little chink in her armor. Elizabeth Shannon would be an interesting choice there, I suppose. Wash...Reilly could work, as someone who’s military as well, though I’m not sure Wash would date someone under her command. Elizabeth Shannon’s still an option there, in the sense that I think she could get Wash to SLOW DOWN and also still has less of a tolerance for Taylor’s shit (the second he comes for her kids, it’s over.) 
My happily ever after for them: Wash eventually realizes that Taylor’s doing Some Dystopian Shit and falls to Mira’s Sixer Wiles, the two of them work together to take him down and then, using some leftover Lucas Bullshit, they re-establish contact on Earth, snatch Sienna, and then go back to Terra Nova where they reunite the Sixers and the Colony as one united group. The Sixers get a full pardon for what they’ve done, or at the very least a highly commuted sentence. They also raise Leah and Sam as their own, with Sienna thrilled to get two new siblings (they also make regular trips to Earth to see Leah and Sam’s grandparents, who are THRILLED to see them but are also mildly intimidated by Mira sharpening her knives in the dining room.)
         Mira
How I feel about this character: Very problematic but I also love her and am totally on her side VS Taylor. 
Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Wash, Alycia Washington, Lt. Washington
My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Sienna. It has to have been a pretty strong mother/daughter bond to get Mira to basically bend Heaven and Hell for her, and it’s a pity we never really got to see it in person considering it would have really helped to humanize Mira further. 
My unpopular opinion about this character: THAT FUCKING SCENE WHERE THE WRITERS IN THE COMMENTARY CALLED HER “ALMOST SYMPATHETIC.” NO, BITCH. SHE IS SYMPATHETIC. I’m really along the same lines as you where I have a really hard time viewing her as a villain. Anti-villain, maybe, but, given what goes on in the Colony (torture, martial law, etc.) I have a hard time not rooting for her. 
One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: That the episode with her and Taylor was replaced with her and Wash. That relationship has so much potential to be fascinating, not just as far as shipping but just in general. Like, even if I didn’t headcanon them as Sad Exes, that “Still doing Taylor’s dirty work?” Shows that they go way back, that there’s this connection there, and Mira offers Wash an alternative to what she’s got on the colony, even if it’s one she can’t take. They work well as rivals and foils for one another as two people who are both military, both very driven, but happened to wind up on different sides. I also really wish that we’d gotten to see more of Mira and what’s going on with her at a given point. I really would have liked to see if she has any mementos of Sienna or something like that. Flashbacks to her on Earth, maybe, or an episode from the perspective of the Sixers. Just something solid as far as establishing her and who she is outside of just “mean Sixer Lady”.  
Favorite friendship for this character: Sixers? Have? Friends? In all honesty, Mira strikes me as the type who avoids attachments, because they’re not here to make friends, they’re here for the money and then to get the Hell out. She’s pragmatic like that. I think she wants her people to respect her, but, ultimately, she’s there for the mission. (Oh, like another military idiot I have a soft spot for.)
My crossover ship: Not a full out ship, but I’m really intrigued by how her and Olympe will get along in the crossover as the Revolution has to team up with the Sixers. Because with Olympe, she’s very easy to underestimate (which is why I think Lucas Taylor is going to fail miserably). Unlike Mira, who I think projects herself as more of a hardass than she actually is as a way of keeping control, Olympe makes herself deliberately softer and more demure than I think she really is as a way of keeping control because that is how you do things in the 18th century. She keeps her head down, keeps her wits about her, smiles, and then darts away from the trouble (namely, Artois). In terms of personality, she’s very nurturing and kid-focused, whereas Mira’s more like Laz in the sense that she has a goal that she wants to achieve and she kind of goes for the throat. Her actions towards Leah show that, while she loves Sienna, when it comes to kids, she’s not above being harsh to a child if she feels it’s necessary. Again, it’s all about the mission to her, getting the money, and then going. So you have these two people with very different approaches to life from very different time periods having to get along for the greater good. 
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