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#i’m so fed up with the shift in community i’ve seen but there’s nothing that can be done about it
speliviya · 2 years
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Idk. I don’t trust that trailer at all lol. I imagine they probably are technically on a ‘break’ but can’t stay away from each other too long so an on/off hot/cold situationship which explains why she’s feeling for him in bed (if they’ve truly been away from each other for 2 months, wouldn’t make sense why she all of the sudden would reach for him to be in bed with her) and the hot tub might be before Coop says either y’all are together or not. The hot tub scene is ironically the scene throwing me off. I’m glad for the parallel but they’re also in a weird place so I wonder if they’ll finish that scene with or without another argument taking place…
When he shows up at the door, I don’t think he actually was showing up for her (even tho this IS her house sir lmao) because there’s another quick clip of Liv standing at the door like an awkward interaction just took place. He shows up maybe looking for Coop or something, a quick convo, and then he leaves. So definitely not heavily interacting with each other at that point which is why I think maybe that’s near the beginning of the episode and then that’s where the hot tub comes in later. But before the Christmas party.
Now, I know we know it’s Liv hugging him bc the lil edge of her shirt. When I saw it the first time I thought it was Simone lmao. Her arm looked darker to me at first and she also has curly hair in the beginning of the trailer. But idk, I guess I questioned if it was Liv at first moreso based on his posture, he looks …uncomfortable (like when you’re experiencing intense emotions that has you kinda stuck and someone’s trying to comfort you) and just the fact that I’ve never seen her embrace him that way with his arms down. She usually hugs his neck but I also suspect that the “I’ve never asked you to give up anything for me” is their breakup convo…. I could imagine that this was an extremely emotional hug and maybe that’s why the set up of it looks so unusual for a Spelivia hug.
Either way, I have strong suspicion that a huge shift is happening at the end of episode 1 for them. The trailer seems to be baiting us since people said they would stop watching if they broke them up. They’re gonna grab us back in for the first (or maybe a couple) episodes and then snatch them away.
What annoys me about this trailer is that there’s still no insight on her thoughts. There’s literally nothing we didn’t already know or suspect from the way we left off in season 4. I can’t wait to hear her response to Coop because I actually would like to hear and understand her reasoning too. Spencer seems fed up in that convo and I can’t say I blame him. I just desperately want to hear her argument at this point. Though, I still think that even if she dropped the article it wouldn’t solve everything atp, I still need her to communicate out of her mouth exactly what she’s feeling and thinking so the audience can at least have clarity on her perspective. But based off S4 finale, I’m sure whatever they wrote for her to say still won’t make a lick of sense.
The trailer didn’t make me excited (after the first watch or two that is lmao), I’m just weary that a real break up is coming and they put all that in the trailer to bait us while they will continue to terrorize us with awful writing and character development.
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Inktober
summary: Carmina Mora finds an interesting challenge on the internet and decides to participate in it.
word count: 625
a/n: I wrote this story as a Valentine’s Day gift for my writing club! Love Miss Carmina 💕
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Ink black fog. Shifting, reshaping, reforming, flowing like a soft stream. Dull, vacant eyes, glassed over. The caws of crows filled her ears, first in a trickle, and soon becoming a rapid torrent, like the raging river below the DeathLeap. But Carmina knew that the soft stream and the raging river were nothing but different parts of the same whole. And the river flowed black. Black with ink, and black with the feathers littered across its surface, hidden in swaths beneath the brine.
A voice. “Carmina!” She whipped her head around. It was her friend. They smiled, relieved. “Lost in thought?”
Carmina shook her head. “No. Found in thought. I’ve just been inspired to make another piece.”
They grinned. “If only I could be fueled so steadily to create. What is your muse?”
“Agony.” Carmina said simply, and it reflected a thousand tears cried, day and night, over unspeakable losses.
Her friend didn’t notice, however. “Tragedy is our greatest inspiration, isn’t it? Though in some cases, the biggest tragedies are our daily woes.” They gave a chuckle. “Mine sure is. Woes aside, I found something you might be interested in. Care to take a look?” They held up their phone, and Carmina scooted her swivel chair over to get a closer look. Their screen showed an Instagram feed containing black-ink art.
“A local artist?” Carmina asked. She didn’t recognize their style. Someone new, perhaps?
“Nope. Just a foreigner, but their art isn’t my focus. See this?” They tapped one of the photos, and the full screen image revealed a graphic.
“Inktober,” Carmina read aloud, “Sounds like it’s made for me.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Her friend said, “And what better way is there to popularize yourself with international audiences than this?”
Carmina smiled at them. “Thank you for thinking of me. It means a lot.”
“Of course,” They replied, “You’re my friend, and I want to see you go as far as you can. I’ll send a screenshot of the post to you so you have all the prompts and the hashtag.”
The two artists went back to talking about pretty things they’d seen and heard that day — the sunrise, a child unintentionally sounding poetic when telling their mother they loved her, two lovers reunited outside of a community center, a feral cat finally letting a good samaritan pet it after he fed it for months. Nature and humanity can move the heart in so many ways, and one can never know exactly when it will happen.
After her friend left, Carmina set up her easel, grabbed an old pot of black ink, and began to draw. She was inspired, not by the pretty things, but by the dark and the morbid. She could never quite figure out if the images that haunted the reaches of her mind were a comfort or a burden, a blessing or a curse, but she always felt compelled to bring them to life, with her black ink being their lifeblood. Perhaps, she thought, her compulsion was due to the solace the nightmares brought her — in such an ever-changing world, it felt easier to dwell in the familiarity of the horrors than risk shattering her heart for daring to think she belonged in the light.
Whatever the reason, she found herself creating in the dim light the moonlight provided, as day turned to dusk turned to nightfall. This drawing, sparked by an Inktober prompt, had long since taken on a life of its own, as if every etch from her quill was casting a spell to animate it. The fog from earlier encroached on the corners of her vision, and Carmina thought to herself, I’m in the zone.
But of course, she had no conception of what that “zone” truly was.
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pussy-ache · 3 years
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there used to be so many more resources for radical feminists outside of tumblr and they’ve all been taken down or just abandoned :/
like the majority of my radical feminist knowledge comes from old radfem texts obvs (daly, dworkin, mackinnon etc) but i like. lived on wordpress accounts in 2012.
the corners of radical feminist wordpresses from 2012-2014 were truly something else and the comments sections were fucking goldmines! i miss all these resources! i’m trying to find all my favorites and most of them are gone and it’s just so heartbreaking and it makes me so sad for women who are just discovering radical feminism.
like i just feel so lucky to have had this background of knowledge that women just don’t have access to anymore. i’m carrying around the thoughts and opinions of women that have changed my points of view for almost TEN YEARS now! and now that i wanna find those resources again to share with other women i go back and find it’s all fucking gone and i’m just so sad about it
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snelbz · 3 years
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Life As We Know It {Chapter Five}
Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.
Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.
Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.
Life As We Know It Masterlist
Shelby’s Masterlist
Tara’s Masterlist
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Nesta’s time for mourning was up.
As she pulled into Elain’s driveway, reality set in. It would be her first day back at the restaurant since the accident, since her life was thrown completely upside down.
She wasn’t ready
But, she had no choice.
Elain was already smiling when she opened the door, reaching out to take Nyx. “Hi, my baby! Aunt Lainy and Seph are so excited to spend the day with you, yes we are.”
“I’m glad, because Aunt Nesta isn’t so excited to not be spending the day with him,” she said, sighing.
Elain gave her sister a wistful look. “I get that. How about Cass, how did he feel going back to work last night?”
Nesta snorted. “Don’t know. He never came back. They started inventory around two this morning after last call, according to the short text I woke up to. He says he’ll be there for most of the day.”
Elain lifted a brow. “Wow.”
Nesta blinked. “He’s a bartender, what do you expect?”
“No,” Elain chuckled. “I meant: wow, looks like you two are actually communicating. I’m shocked.”
Nesta rolled her eyes. “We’ve been living together for three days. If we weren’t communicating, what exactly would we be doing instead?”
Elain carried Nyx into the living room, sitting him down in the playpen she’d set up in the corner. “I mean, honestly, Az and I just figured you were pretending each other didn’t exist.”
For all intents and purposes, they had been, but they had made sure to talk about important things. Like whether Nyx had been fed, when he needed to go down for his nap and what the schedule for the next day would look like.
To be totally honest, she hadn’t even realized Cassian had her number until she’d woken up to a text from one she didn’t have saved in her phone.
“We’re…adjusting,” she finally said, watching as Nyx crawled over to the pile of toys in the corner of the playpen. “I gave him a bath last night, and he said he would handle the next one, since he had to go to work. But… Gods, Elain, giving a one-year-old a bath is exhausting. I looked like I’d just left the pool, not to mention the entire bathroom was soaked.”
Elain chuckled and shook her head. “Seph loves baths, but we’re still having them in the sink right now. She’s not quite ready for the bathtub yet.”
The baby in question was asleep in a bouncer, resting on the floor by the couch.
Nesta glanced at her watch, whatever reply she had falling from her lips. “Shit, I have to go, I’ll be late.”
“Go,” Elain said, wrapping her sister up in a hug. “The day will fly by and you’ll be home with Nyx before you know it.”
Nesta nodded, even though her core was filled with dread.
Nonetheless, she was across town in fifteen minutes, hurrying into the café just before nine. She tossed her purse behind her desk after she unlocked the door to her office and looked around, only to find everything exactly where she had left it.
With a sigh, she pulled a bottle of water out of her mini-fridge, only to find it completely warm. They must have unplugged it when they were cleaning. It wouldn’t be the first time.
She didn’t have time to think on it too much, though, because there was a knock on her office door, her manager’s voice calling her name through the wood.
Her first day back had officially begun.
*
Cassian was exhausted.
For the past couple hours, he felt like he was lost somewhere in a dream. Now, as he continued to stare at the shelves of liquor in the back room, he debated curling up in the corner and falling asleep.
He’d messed up so many drink orders the night before, worrying about whether Nyx was okay or if Nesta had forgotten to do anything for him. He knew Nesta was perfectly capable of taking care of Nyx, had been doing so since Rhys and Feyre had died. But he still worried about him constantly.
He yawned as he shoved a box of tequila up onto the top shelf, turning to see how much was left.
Only to find the store room empty of boxes. He let over a relieved sigh, pulling out his phone.
10:37
He knew the opener would be in at eleven, a shift that was usually his, but as the manager, he preferred to ensure inventory was done correctly, and with such a big shipment, thanks to his unexpected time off, he told them he would work the night before.
His feet damn near shuffling across the floor, he made his way into the office and sat down at the desk, to wait for Kallias. He didn’t see a reason to lock the place up when Kal would be here five minutes later to start setting up.
He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he heard a knocking on the office door and sat up quickly, his feet falling from where he’d propped them on top of the desk.
Cassian found Kallias standing in the doorway, a small smirk on his lips. “Baby keeping you up at night already?”
He yawned, dragging a hand down his face. “No. Well, sometimes, but not this time. Didn’t finish inventory until about fifteen minutes ago.”
Kallias whistled. “Damn. You should’ve called. I would’ve come help.” Cassian shrugged. “No use having both of us exhausted.”
Kallias just shook his head. “If you say so. Go home, Cass. Get some sleep. I’ve got everything under control.”
Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He stood, clapped Kallias on the shoulder, and walked out to the parking lot. After hopping into his truck, Cassian dozed off.
And six hours later, he woke up, his head against his steering wall, his neck hurting like hell, and his chin glistening with his slobber.
It wasn’t an attractive sight.
After a curse, he looked at the clock on the dash, and swore again.
It was just after five.
The truck was in gear and he was speeding home seconds later. When he rounded the corner, Nesta’s car was already in the driveway.
He parked beside her, hopping out and hurrying to the back door. When he threw it open, he found her standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan. It smelled delicious.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, collapsing in the nearest chair at the kitchen table, his head dropped into his hands in exhaustion. Even after his impromptu nap in the truck, he still felt like he needed another eight hours sleep. “Inventory took way longer than usual and then I passed out in the truck.” He shook his head, letting his obvious exhaustion explain the rest to her.
“It’s fine.”
He looked up and glanced at her stiff back. She hadn’t turned back to look at him, was completely focused on whatever she cooked on the stove.
Her tone said it absolutely was not fine.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I’d been awake for over twenty-six hours.”
“Elain had to reschedule a shoot with a client tonight. She was expecting you to come pick up Nyx after you got off and got some sleep.”
He cringed. Nesta had texted him around ten, while he was still focused on inventory, asking him to get Nyx from Elain before three. He didn’t ask why, had honestly forgotten she’d even texted him.
“I’ll call her later, I’ll apologize,” he sighed.
Nesta turned abruptly and tossed the towel she was using to hold the warm handle on the counter. She was pissed, he’d seen that look in her eyes more than once. “I get that you worked and you were tired, but you have to be more responsible, Cassian.”
“I said I was fucking sorry,” he said, standing. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in my truck, but I did. I’m fucking sorry.”
She rolled her eyes, but turned back to the stove.
Cassian scoffed, and was nearly ready to bite her head off, but then Nyx’s soft cries came from the living room.
“He fell asleep in the pack and play,” Nesta said, continuing to stir what she had on the stove.
Cassian took that as his dismissal. He hurried into the living room and picked up Nyx, who was standing up in his pack and play, gripping the edge. When he saw Cassian, his hands shot straight in the air.
“Hey buddy,” he said, quietly, as he lifted Nyx out of his pack and play. Nyx instantly relaxed in his arms, laying his head on Cassian’s shoulder.
“He’s probably hungry,” Nesta said, as the boys made their way back into the kitchen.
“I’m aware,” Cassian snapped.
Nesta’s shoulders tensed.
Cassian said nothing more as he opened the fridge and took out some leftover mashed potatoes, Nyx’s favorite.
“He should have some kind of protein with that,” Nesta said, her back still to them.
Cassian spun around, exasperated. “Shit, anything else you’d like to add?”
She said nothing, pretending he didn’t even speak. Cassian didn’t say anything else, but he fixed him a bottle, and set Nyx in his high chair. As Cassian shook it, Nyx held out his hands, reaching for it. He gave it to him, turning to the microwave to heat up the potatoes.
He heard plates being set down at the table and found Nesta setting two plates full of stir fry on the table.
He hesitated, but moved Nyx’s high chair closer to the table. He took the already empty bottle from him and got a small spoonful of potatoes for him. He quietly said, “You didn’t need to cook for me,” as he fed Nyx.
“I made too much,” she replied, simply, sitting across from him. She didn’t meet his eyes as she took a bite.
He watched as her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction.
As Nyx grabbed his bowl from the end of his high chair and stuck his face into it, Cassian looked down at his own plate, at the steak, broccoli, peppers, peeled carrots, and snap peas that sat before him.
It smelled delicious.
He hesitantly took a bite as Nyx clapped his hands and began to babble.
“Afraid I may poison you?” Nesta asked.
Cassian blinked, meeting her eyes. They remained like that for a moment, staring at one another, then Cassian took another bite. “It’s good. Thanks.”
“I made too much,” she repeated. “Cut Nyx up some of the steak. It’s tender enough for him to eat, just make sure the pieces are tiny. The broccoli, too. He likes broccoli.”
Cassian did as he was told without a word. He set the food in front of Nyx, who instantly had his chubby little hands on them.
“Don’t think I’ll be cooking every night,” Nesta said, in the middle of their otherwise silent meal.
“I wouldn’t think of it,” Cassian said, then cleared his throat. “I can cook sometimes, too. I’m not bad in the kitchen.” A look crossed Nesta’s face that said she didn’t quite believe that statement.
“I make a mean breakfast,” he said, after chewing through another bite. “I’ll show you. We’ll do breakfast for dinner one night.”
Nesta nodded, but Cassian couldn’t tell if that was confirmation or just agreeing to shut him up. After a minute, she set down her fork and cleared her throat. “Speaking of breakfast, I’d prefer to not share the table with any friends you may bring home.”
Cassian’s brows lowered, not fully understanding. And then what she was saying clicked and he was coughing around the bite of food he’d been swallowing. He drank from the glass of water he’d grabbed, and cleared his throat, ensuring he could breathe. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”
“If I live here, it is my concern,” she said, going right back to eating, as if she hadn’t just brought up an extremely unexpected topic. “I don’t want Nyx to see a revolving door of women leaving either, he doesn’t need to get the wrong idea.”
Cassian could only stare at her, though when Nyx heard his name, he paused his eating to look up at her. He finally said, “He’s one, first of all, so he has no idea what that would even mean, and secondly, I can have whoever the hell I want here, and they can stay for breakfast. I live here, too.”
“Would you care to see an endless string of men coming out of my bedroom every morning?” Nesta asked, her tone light, but her eyes full of hellfire.
Cassian’s chewing slowed. No, he wouldn’t care to see that, but he’d never admit it. He wasn’t even one to bring women home...well, at least not often, but apparently she thought of him as some unhinged casanova.
“As long as you ask me to join, I don’t care who you bring home,” Cassian said.
Now it was Nesta’s turn to choke on the bite of steak she just took. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of red as her eyes watered. After catching her breath and taking a long drink of water, she said, “That’s inappropriate.”
Nyx giggled, his lips covered in mashed potatoes, as if Nesta had just said the most hilarious thing in the world.
He took one last bite of his food before standing and carrying his plate over to the sink. “You don’t bring up my sex life and I won’t bring up yours. Deal?”
“Fine,” she said, picking up her plate as well and dropping it next to his on the counter. “You take care of the dishes, I’ll give Nyx his bath.”
“Fine.” That seemed to be their word to end conversations, as most of them ended with one of them snapping the word at the other, and it being repeated right back to them.
He wanted to fling more insults at her, wanted to snap that he wasn’t the man-whore she apparently thought he was. He never had been, despite the obscene amount of those stupid condoms she’d seen in his glove box all those years ago. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him.
He heard her unclipping Nyx’s high chair and then she was carrying him upstairs. Cassian was already wrist deep in soapy water when he heard the bathtub running from upstairs.
It was then that he realized he had originally told Nesta that he would give Nyx a bath tonight.
He didn’t pick him up from Elain’s.
He didn’t give him a bath like he said he would.
Maybe Nesta was right.
Maybe he was just setting himself up for failure.
As he scrubbed at the dishes, Cassian felt that sense of failure wash over him and sent a thought to Rhysand, wherever he was, hoping that his oldest friend wasn’t as disappointed in him as he was.
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stillebesat · 3 years
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Code: Blanket
Sanders Sides: Janus, Virgil, (Logan & Remus mentioned) Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Prompt: “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” with Anxceit? (platonic is 100% good for me) Blurb: A friendship doesn't stop just because one person decides to act like a dick. Especially when said dick is obviously in trouble. Overall Fic Warnings: Homophobia talk, Neglectful/Abusive Parents implication, Capitol Riot references. Taglist in Reblog
Janus Daemon @TheGatekeeper *12m To the ‘family’ that locked me in our unfinished attic these past 4 months to “knock the Antifa sh!t” out of me; Pretty sure this is worse than anything I’d have done. Don’t bother deleting the evidence of your ‘trip.’ It’s already been passed onto the proper Authorities. Cheers.
Virgil shot upright in bed, staring at the tweet and the handful of photos from the storming of the Capitol that Dee had attached along with it. “No way.” He breathed. No freaking way.
Janus. Janus Daemon, the goodie-two-shoes who always obeyed his parents and followed their lead...had actually turned them in as Capitol rioters?
He frowned, tapping on his phone to blow up the images so he could see the people within them better. Yah, no. Even if it had been ages since he’d seen Dee’s family...there was no denying that two of the dozen faces circled and labeled in the pictures were the same parental figures that he remembered sneering down at him before they forcefully dragged their son off the playground when he was six.
That had been right after...Virgil hunched his shoulders. After his Dad’s divorce from his Mom. Apparently hanging out with a child who only had a Dad in the picture was a big “NO” in their messed up book of rules.
Not that that had stopped them from becoming secret best friends in school...well until last year that is….when his Dad had married Remus.
That had...been rough...when word got out--well reached Dee’s parents and they’d stormed the school to find their son working on a project in the library with him, the ‘hooligan freak who dared to be okay with having two dads when it was unnatural to the natural order of things.’
He’d known, from Janus, that his parents were uptight...but that day had shown him how all Daemons were a Demonic Clan of Super Karens that had campaigned nearly as hard as the President to force both his Dad and Remus from their jobs in order to protect the community from their sort.
Unfortunately for the Daemons, they’d picked the wrong family to mess with. Not when his Dad, Logan Andrews, was considered to be the best lawyer in the state, if not the country. Not when his new husband, Remus Knight, had just finished performing a life saving surgery on the governor's daughter. No. The Daemons may be influential, but they were nothing compared to his parents when their Momma Bear instincts were roused.
Honestly...to discover that the entire group had drunk the kool-aid and actually stormed the Capitol to support the Orange Cheeto shouldn’t be so surprising.
Well...not everyone.
Virgil frowned, glancing back up to the first part of the tweet before he hit his contacts, scrolling through them to find Janus’s name only to hesitate over pressing the call button.
He hadn’t spoken to Dee in a year. Not since that fiasco. Not since his so called friend had taken his parent's side and cut off all contact, purposely burning the bridges of their friendship with sneers, glares...and well---
Virgil exhaled, closing his eyes.
Could a Demon change their stripes? Could Janus...could he---
Sure...it appeared he was finally rebelling against his parents...but he had no idea what Dee thought of him---Virgil gritted his teeth. It didn’t matter. “I made a promise.” He whispered, slowly opening his eyes.
Still. Maybe not a good idea to call. Janus had probably blocked his number anyways---
He swiped out of his contacts, switching to his barely used Facebook Messenger where he picked out Janus’s name from there, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Dee probably still wanted nothing to do with him.
He swiped a single word...once again hesitating over sending it.
They hadn’t talked in a year.
This could go so wrong.
And yet--
He hit send.
Virgil: Blanket?
He bit his lip, barely breathing as he stared at the little check mark symbol showing that Dee’s account had at least received the message.
Not that he really expected a response. It was Facebook after all. But Janus had just turned his family in. Did he have a place to stay? Had he been fed? Just how bad had it been for him to be locked in an unfinished attic over the summer by the people who supposedly loved him? Who had proclaimed they wanted to protect him. If---
His heart skipped a beat as the checkmark switched to Janus’s profile picture.
Dee had seen the message.
He stopped breathing as the three typing dots appeared.
Janus: Seriously?
“Ha.” Virgil relaxed, running shaking fingers through his hair. Not a totally unexpected response after everything. But far better than the hate filled rant he’d half expected to get. That had to be a good sign right? He had come up with that particular coded phrase as a way to judge his friend’s needs when Dee had pulled him into the hollow of an old oak tree on his way to the bus the day after his fateful encounter with the Super Karens on the playground with tears shining in his eyes.
Janus hadn’t wanted to return home that day because his parents had been so mad at him for playing with Virgil. He hadn’t understood why having only a Dad was bad--
He hadn’t been as understanding when Virgil ended up with two.
Virgil rolled off the bed, stuffing his feet into his shoes as he sent a one word answer back.
Virgil: Yes.
No typing dots appeared even though he could see that Dee had seen his response.
Unsurprising. Dee was probably wondering if this was some sort of trick, if there was a catch. Why would Virgil of all people contact him out of the blue after how he’d treated him?
He pulled his hoodie over his head, swiping his keys and face mask from his desk as he took a chance and pressed call, holding his phone up to his ear, listening to it ring as he left his room and moved downstairs.
A click sounded in his ear right before the voicemail could activate.
Janus had picked up, Virgil could hear the faint sound of sirens in the background, the shaky barely controlled breathing.
He wasn’t saying anything though.
That was fine. Not normal for Dee, who always liked to have the first and last word but Virgil could work with this.
“Offer still stands, Dee.” He said, keeping his voice low as he moved past Dad and Remus’s darkened bedroom, heading to the front door. “I’ve told you a million times that if you don’t know where to go you can always come here. You acting like the world’s biggest dick doesn’t change that.”
Janus may have thrown their friendship out of the figurative door...but Virgil--well he...hadn’t. Not really. He had been hoping Dee would come around--not like this...but if this could get his best friend back---
“You can’t mean that, Annie.” The voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Not after--”
“Dude.” Virgil tsked, scribbling a quick note to his parents because Dad would hear the car start up and be up like a shot once he realized Virgil was leaving after hours. “You just posted that you were locked up in your attic by your so-called parents.” He pulled open the front door, quickly slipping out before he jangled his car keys by the phone. “Unless you say Nest right now, I’m coming to get you and dragging you back. So. Blan--” He looked up and froze, staring at the shadowy figure hovering just outside the gate. ”-ket?”
Janus huffed in his ear, the figure at the gate shifting to grab onto one arm, rubbing it as they shuffled back a step.
Dee did that whenever he was nervous. Whenever he was afraid he was making the wrong choice.
He hadn’t spoken to Virgil in a year.
Yet he was already here.
Virgil was off the porch and jumping over the gate in a flash, grabbing onto Janus before his friend could change his mind and bolt. “Dee.”
Janus flinched, slowly lowering the phone, a crumpled face mask hanging from one ear, ragged hair half covering a deep purple bruise and three long scratches by his left eye as he ducked his head. “If...I said...Fort?’ He whispered, shoulders hunching as if expecting a physical blow.
Blanket Fort. A need for Protection. For Safety.
Virgil growled, tugging his friend into his arms, holding him tight, heart throbbing as Dee practically melted into him like a shaking leaf, breath hitching as his fingers dug into Virgil’s hoodie.
How long had it been since anyone had treated Dee with any compassion? Four months locked up in an attic. His family halfway across the country committing treason. Had they even left him any food when they left? Probably not from how bony Dee felt now in his arms.
“Janus.” Virgil said softly, holding him tighter as his friend shuddered in his arms, running careful fingers through his greasy hair. “I told you. You can always stay here.”
Part 2
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neonacity · 3 years
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Chapter 10: Clytemnestra
Summary:
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
An NCT mafia AU with OT23. Summary: Working for the mafia comes with many layers. There’s excitement, violence, loss, and betrayals. Yet there’s also friendship, family, loyalty, and code. The last thing it needs? Love and all the complexities it brings.
TW: violence, death, mentions of sex, drugs, and other illegal activities. If you’re uncomfortable with any of these, feel free to skip. Author’s note: This is purely a work of fiction. In no way am I supporting all the illegal activities and behaviors that might be mentioned in the story nor am I implying that any member of NCT acts whichever way I may write them here.
Chapter 9: In Memoriam
MASTERLIST
Fic Trailer
Chapter Music: I See Red by Everybody Loves an Outlaw
----
"What did he say?"
My eyes scanned over the words written over the piece of paper for the last time. There isn't much there, but I feel like there's something crucial I was missing. I looked up at Taeyong and shook my head. 
"Nothing much. But he wanted me to meet up with him."
"Did he give you an address?"
"No. Which makes it all the more strange. Unless he is planning to send another letter?" I handed him the piece of paper which he quickly unfolded to read. A slight frown settled between his brows as he went over it. 
There were only two lines there, none of which really makes sense. 
I will be waiting. 
22:00. Black Daisies. 
"Do you have any idea what Black Daisies mean?" 
I shook my head, mirroring the same look of confusion on his face. I've been racking my brains about it for the past few minutes but couldn't think of anything that might be related to it. 
"I honestly have no idea. He wrote a time beside it… so I am assuming whatever Black Daisies is, it's a code for a place? I don't have any idea which location he is referring to though." 
Taeyong simply looked at me silently before finally folding the paper away. We were back in my room after he temporarily managed to save me from the barrage of questions I was sure the others wanted to ask when they found out the letter was addressed for me. 
Every day I feel like the line I'm toeing gets more and more dangerous. Like a high strung tight rope that's ready to give up under my footing.
"You're not going to him." 
I looked up to meet his eyes. 
"I wasn't planning to..." 
Taeyong's gaze didn't waver.
"Promise me."
"Why?"
"Because I know you'll change your mind in a heartbeat once he involves anyone you care about. So I need you to promise, even if he uses me or any of our friends."
My lips pursed and I evaded his gaze. I heard a soft shuffling of feet and felt my mattress dip as he sat beside me. Taeyong didn't need to touch me to affect me with his presence. After that brief moment of vulnerability that we shared earlier, something has shifted. I thought I will be able to put my walls up again just as easily as I took them down, but it seems like I was wrong. 
When he spoke again, his voice was lower. Softer. 
"Promise me." 
"Is that an order from my leader?"
"No, it is a request from a friend." 
I turned to look at him and cocked my brow to diffuse the tension in the air. 
"You're ordering your noona around?" 
His lips quirked ever so slightly into a smile. 
"You're only one year older…"
"Hey. Emergency meeting."
"And seven months. One year and seven months. Don't forget that," I said, looking away.
A sharp knock on my door got our attention at that moment and we both looked up to see Doyoung standing on the threshold. He looked grim as he moved his gaze from Taeyong to me. 
-----
Jaehyun sat at the very back of the room that had filled up with all the members after Doyoung sent his urgent message. Everyone was scattered in the expansive space which seemed a little bit smaller now that WayV has joined, some sitting on the leather stools while others made do with the floor. Jungwoo and Taeil were deep in conversation beside him while Johnny and Yuta stood next to the door, flanking the entrance with their overwhelming presence. Being the main fighters of 127, it comes natural for the pair to be on the watch regardless if it's just an internal family meeting that's happening.
...Except this is not just an ordinary meeting. Jaehyun hasn't heard the full story from Doyoung yet after he came back from his business, but he has a pretty good idea of what the issue might be. Despite being just one of the crime families under the current Don's network, NCT does follow the traditional mafia ranking within its system. Doyoung works as the Consigliere to Taeyong's Capocrimine, taking over the responsibility of being the advisor and overall gatekeeper of NCT to the outside world. His connections give him access to normal society, which means if he calls for a meeting, it is probably an issue involving the "above ground." 
Taeyong walked in with an unreadable expression that made everyone fall silent in a heartbeat. He joined Doyoung in front of the room and looked over the crowd before finally speaking. 
"Has anyone here given any orders to their crew about stepping up any of our activities?"
The members exchanged confused looks between each other. Mark answered in lieu of Dream, Jeno looking just as confused beside him. 
"Not us. Why? What's up?"
Taeyong looked at Doyoung who grimly picked a folder on the table. The latter started reading the contents of it out loud into the room. 
"Heist in Dongjak district. The biggest bank there was ransacked last week. Cops also busted an illegal racing event last night. The other day, there was an ambush on one of the strip clubs at Guro. News came around that a new drug was being sold there after a rise of reported overdose deaths from it three days ago. Businesses that should be under our protection in Seocho are being ransacked despite them settling their tariff fees with us," Doyoung looked up from the paper he was reading and swept his gaze over the room. 
"That's just four of the 18 other cases that I got for the last week."
Everyone exchanged shocked looks with each other. Jeno decided to speak up, the expression on his eyes intense. 
"Hyung, it's not us. We haven't done any heists since you came back from Tokyo."
Doyoung gave a tight nod and looked over to Johnny and Yuta.
"The drugs in Guro?" 
"Not from us. The last ones we distributed are those we got from Japan and they're just psychedelic shots. They're clean." 
"WayV…?"
"We didn't bring any with us when we landed. Our jet can only fit the crates of armory we had to transport for you guys," Kun said with a frown. 
Taeyong ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. 
"Taeyong, what's happening?"
It was Doyoung who answered for him. 
"There was a rise of undocumented cases that were being fed to the cops in the past weeks. According to the reports, they were done by us." 
"What? That doesn't make any sense," Yuta said from his position by the door.
"It does make a lot of sense, actually. Obviously, we're hands off from all of these so they can only be done by the smaller gangs that we don't manage. And it all started after that announcement was made."
"But those rats wouldn't have any confidence to go against us. They're too small and disorganized to do this. And to even claim that they're NCT? That's just impossible."
"It is possible, if there is someone bigger asking them to act up," Taeyong answered grimly. Jaehyun watched as the man's gaze quickly flickered over to the pale female face sitting on the couch between Chenle and Renjun. That's when it clicked. 
Of course, Jihoon wouldn't be too lax to actually lie low after the bombing of Anarchy. That was just the start.
"Are you sure this isn't Wonho's doing?" Ten asked with concern. "We just got word from our network in Beijing that he was peddling women from kidnappings."
Jaehyun's attention snapped to the boy then at Doyoung and Taeyong at the mention of the name. A heavy feeling quickly started to gather on the pit of his stomach as he waited for their answer.
"That's an entirely different case altogether. But you’re right. The feds caught wind that he was trafficking kidnapped tourists and now they're after his ass." 
"Did he claim his case to be connected to us, too?"
"No. But because of all these other things happening, the police are definitely pinning everything on us."
"Shit," Lucas whispered loud enough for the good half of the room to hear. Jaehyun mirrored the same internally, his hands clasped together tightly in front of him. 
Shit indeed. 
This was all supposed to be a no brainer. He only needed to help the asshole get out of the country and then he can brush him off like dirt from his hands after. Why didn't he do it before things hit the fan? Now everything has become so much more complicated.
"How bad is it?" Taeil asked from Jaehyun's left. 
"Bad enough for us to be in the 8pm news. According to our moles, the Chief of Police is going to announce the manhunt for us tonight."
The room has gone so silent and still that the air felt suffocating. If there is one thing NCT is known for in the underworld, it is the group's efficiency and cleanliness when it comes to its operations. Every job done is spotless, every loophole covered. Until now. 
"Can't we pay off—" 
"We can't. We already tried reaching out to all our associates within the force but they can't do anything about it," Taeyong answered before Taeil could even finish the question. "The cases have reached the public and now there's an outcry from the community. Even the police are pressured to do something."
A round of murmurs swept over the room. Finally, one female voice broke through it to ask the question nobody wanted to say out loud. 
"What are we going to do?"
Taeyong's jaw tightened and he unclasped his arms crossed over his chest. 
"We need to track all those gangs doing these activities and put them in their place. It's going to be difficult to hunt each of them down with their size so we will need to use most of our resources here. Reach out to all the connections you could think of. We don't need more crimes being blamed on us."
Everyone's eyes were on Taeyong as the group waited for what he's going to say next. He stopped for a bit before finally speaking again. 
"And we kill Jihoon. This isn't going to stop until he's gone." 
Glances were exchanged within the room as his words sank in. Jaehyun didn't want to break the silence but he knew that he didn't have any other choice but to ask the next question. 
"And Wonho? What are we going to do with him?"
It was Doyoung who answered this time. 
"We'll kill him, too. We've given him way too many chances already. Once we get rid of him, we take the credit and let the cops know about it. Take them off our backs for a bit. We'll take care of him this week." 
It was fortunate that Jaehyun has mastered the art of keeping an unreadable facade. In his head, the words of the woman he loves echoed once again as the consequences of the situation mocked him. 
"No betrayal… or death of a brother shall be held against any of you." 
-----
Johnny threw his half finished cigarette on the gravelled road with a quick flick of his wrist. He scanned the length of the building from across the wall he is leaning on, gaze shadowed by the cap pulled low against his face. Of course, Jihoon would have the audacity and gall to choose a luxury apartment unit as his mistress' "hiding place" in Seoul. The motherfucker is one proud asshole, acting as if he owns any territory he steps on like the crazy psycho he is. 
He's not here for him though, no. Johnny isn't the type to act out on his own, but things are slowly starting to get messy within the family. People may always credit Taeyong for being the first one to step in the line of fire when it comes to protecting the group, but Johnny is a close second when it comes to his sense of loyalty. Ever since that day he was picked up and saved from that hell of underground brawls at 17 by Taeyong himself, he made it his personal promise to do anything to protect his home. 
That's exactly what he is doing now as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, waiting for his prey. If his informant was correct, she should go out of the building doors any minute now. 
30 seconds. 40. 56. 
His eyes caught a familiar form slipping out of the main entrance of the complex. The woman was wearing more casual clothes now than when they last met at Anarchy, but Johnny knew it was her despite her hoodie shielding the good half of her face. His sharp eyes followed her, allowing her to put some distance between them before he finally pushed himself from the wall to trace her steps.
She had crossed three streets when he really started catching up with her. He waited until the traffic light turned red on the street she was about to cross before slinging his arm around her casually. 
The woman stiffened instantly in his arms and looked up at him in shock. Johnny smiled casually down at her and pressed the cold nose of the gun hidden under his jacket closer to her ribcage.
"If you don't make a racket, there won't be a need for a murder scene by this road."
She pursed her lips as anger flashed in her eyes. She gave a tight nod before directing her gaze back into the street ahead.
"Good girl. Go straight then turn left. There's an abandoned building on the third alley." 
The two of them immediately started walking, sides pressed closely together. She didn't speak, but Johnny could feel her anger just bubbling underneath.
He unceremoniously pushed her inside the abandoned shop when they finally reached it. She turned to him with a glare and he didn't hesitate to raise his gun to her face, cocking it slowly. 
The move made her brows raise. Instead of looking threatened, she crossed her arms over her chest. 
"What do you want?"
"Your boyfriend's head on a stick. When are you two going to leave us alone? Your lot is causing a lot of trouble for us already."
"Are you here to kill me then?" 
"Oh no. You're here as payment. It'll be interesting to see how he reacts after we mess up one of his own." 
The woman stared at him for a long moment. Johnny’s gun didn’t waiver during the stare down, his hand steady as their gazes clashed. Then, all of a sudden, she did something he wasn’t expecting at all. 
She laughed.
She laughed so hard her voice rang and bounced on the dusty corners of the room. Johnny reigned in the confusion that overtook him with a frown. Is she acting to throw him off track?
The girl straightened up and looked at him with pure amusement in her eyes. The smirk playing on her lips told him that there is more to this act than what he is seeing. 
“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. You stalked me thinking you’ll budge Jihoon by threatening me? That’s so, so, so amusing.” 
Johnny tightened his jaw but didn’t say a word. He watched as she started moving towards where he is standing, her eyes never leaving his. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she stalked him, and for the first time, he actually took a good long look at her eyes. What Johnny saw there hit him like a firetruck. 
Jihoon’s madness, exactly reflected in her own gaze.
She stopped an inch away from his gun. If she moved a little, the cold metal of it would have kissed her forehead. 
“You could kill me now or torture me to death and my brother wouldn’t bat an eye… In fact, he might even thank you,” she whispered softly, almost fondly. Johnny felt the hair at the back of his neck rise. His emotions must have briefly flashed on his face because her smile widened in amusement. 
“Here’s one thing you don’t understand about Jihoon. He absolutely doesn’t care about anyone else other than himself. All these things he is doing? They are all for his sick fun. He is mad. Inhuman. If you want to have any chance of winning this, you have no other choice but to play the game with him.” 
“You’re his sister.”
“Half sister. That doesn’t change anything. I’m just a piece on his chessboard. I would honestly let you kill me now if you want to, but I can’t. Not until I finish what I have to do.”
Johnny didn’t know what got to him but he found himself slowly lowering his gun. The two of them stared at each other, silent, for what felt like forever. Finally, she moved to walk past him. 
“If that’s all, then I’ll go ahead. I suggest you find a better informant next time. Jihoon doesn’t stay in my building at all. Even I don’t know where he is,” she said casually as she moved towards the door. 
“I have no other choice. But believe me when I say that I want him dead just as much as you do.” 
“If he doesn’t care about you, why are you sticking with him?” he asked just as she wrapped her hand on the door handle. She stilled, her shoulders stiff. Johnny is not an ace when it comes to psychological games but when she turned to look at him again, he knew for sure that her eyes were honest despite being devoid of emotions. 
That made him stop. Before he knew it, he was speaking again to ask the one question that he’s been trying to answer ever since they met at Anarchy.
“Why did you save me? Back in the club. I was standing directly above your bomb.” 
For a while, she didn’t answer. Johnny thought he saw a flicker of emotion pass through her eyes, but it was gone before he could process it. 
“I wonder why too.”
The door closed behind her, leaving him alone in the shadowed room. 
----
Chapter 11
Tag list: @hen-marks99, @negincho, @nctisthecity
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Chapter Two of See You in the Morning Time
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The third in a Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Gif by @mrsrafaelbarba . Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted to ao3!
Part Three of the series So Much Easier than You Realize
Chapter One: A Different Feeling Entirely Chapter Two: Show Me the New
Warnings: Frederick being an anxious (and sad. and repressed) little weenie, discussions of period typical homophobia, bi panic, completely invented backstory (you got on this ride folks lol), Rafael being surprisingly supportive, cuddling, and of course a little bit of teasing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 2293 Summary: It's not often that Fred instigates anything with Rafael except an argument.
It’s late by the time Fred and Rafael finally make their way to bed. They shower and put pajamas on while waiting for the food to arrive and once they eat, they finish the bottle of wine that Fred had opened earlier and spend the rest of the evening chatting and watching some dumb movie on TV.
Lying in Fred’s bed in his borrowed clothes, Rafael can’t help but smile to himself. After weeks of skittishness from Fred he had finally made it past some of the walls that the doctor had put up. Fred curled close to Rafael while they watched the movie, dragging a blanket over the two of them and cozying up entirely unprompted.
When Fred comes out of the bathroom and flicks the lights off, he’s even more pleased that Fred doesn’t seem to hesitate to lie close to him in bed or reach out for his hand.
“Thank you for letting me stay,” Rafael murmurs, to break the silence more than anything. He hears Fred scoff.
“I was hardly going to kick you out as soon as we were done.” As best as he can, Rafael turns on his side trying to make Fred out in the darkness of the room.
“I know. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel.” He’s not at his most eloquent or subtle, but he wants to acknowledge what happened between them. “You were… hesitant at first and I just want to make sure you didn’t feel like you had to do this. As of a few days ago you were still pretty clear that you were not comfortable with the two of us having sex.”
Rafael doesn’t want to force a confidence, but he feels like he has to make sure. He’s coming to care too deeply about the arrogant chronically awkward man next to him to just let this go with vague assurances. He hears Fred shift onto his back and wants nothing more than to drag him into his arms and kiss his stupid, conceited face, but he holds himself still and waits for Fred to answer him, giving him the space he clearly wants.
“This wasn’t as sudden as you think it was,” Fred assures him eventually, face still pointed at the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about this since, you know, that first time.” Rafael can practically feel Fred’s blush from his side of the bed and grins. “And my reticence was never about you, you know that, yes?”
Rafael nods, realizes Fred probably can’t see him, and clears his throat.
“Yeah, I figured as much. I am, after all, a damn catch.”
Rafael yelps as Fred reaches out, faster than he thought was possible for a well-fed psychiatrist who sits behind a desk all day, and smacks him on the chest.
They’re quiet for a few minutes, together in the dark cocoon of Fred’s bedroom, before Rafael sighs. He can’t help but notice the similarities between the blank peacefulness of Fred’s minimalist design and the deliberately organized calm of a therapist’s office and wonders if he did that on purpose. Maybe it’s a natural inclination, he muses idly. It invites honesty. The sharing of secrets.
“I’m only eighteen months younger than Benn, you know,” Fred says eventually, and it’s so unexpected that Rafael finds himself frowning a little in confusion. “All the way through school, I was Bennett Chilton’s younger brother; just the little brother of the handsome quarterback that everyone adored.” Rafael has seen photos of Bennett, tall and painfully handsome. He can see that it might have been hard to grow up in that shadow.
“He came out when he was sixteen, and I was fourteen. And I’m sure you can imagine what that was like at an all-boys Catholic school in Virginia in the eighties.” Rafael winces in the dark. He remembers well enough the attitudes in his own high school, in marginally more liberal New York. He can’t imagine what it must have been like in a place without a visible community to look up to.
“People were mostly smart enough not to say anything to Benn’s face--he was a six foot two starter who never backed down from a fight, they would have had to have been stupid--and our parents were supportive. But the things people said about him behind his back--” Fred shudders, an involuntary shiver that makes Rafael want to wrap his arms around him and never let go.
Instead, he just squeezes Fred’s hand reassuringly and waits for him to continue. For someone who has trouble shutting up at the very best of times--staying silent isn’t Rafael’s forte--he is doing an admirable job tonight. His desire to prove he’s worthy of this unexpected vulnerability from Fred is more than enough to keep him quiet. Rafael is desperate to know more, to know everything about Fred; about what makes him tick, about why he was so reticent, so reserved, when clearly this is something that he enjoys.
“It was awful. The kind of things you never want to hear about somebody you love. And I was hardly in any position to be giving out bloody noses or black eyes whenever someone called him a fag, or made some crack about AIDS.” Rafael shifts slightly nearer, still not saying anything. He smiles to himself when he feels one of Fred’s hands reach up to rest on Rafael’s hip.
“I was a short, scrawny child--I spent a lot of time in the hospital and home sick--and I couldn’t afford to give the other boys in my school one more reason to pick on me so I just… didn’t say anything. I’m not proud of it, but it’s not like Benn had any trouble sticking up for himself. I doubt he would have appreciated anyone stealing his opportunity to get into one more fight anyways.”
Rafael covers the hand Fred has on his hip with his own, deciding now is not the time to joke that he can’t ever imagine Fred as scrawny. Fred clears his throat again and continues in the same calm, rehearsed manner. Like this is something that he witnessed happening to someone else.
“It wasn’t long after that that I had my own month of absolute pure terror and confusion. It was one of Bennett’s teammates from the swim team that actually sent me over the edge. His name was Bobby and he was gorgeous. He had never made any jokes about Bennett, never joked about changing somewhere else in the locker room. He was a little stupid, I can admit that now, but back then I thought he was perfect. I worshipped my brother and this pretty boy clearly did the same.
“Well, I was horrified. Up until then I had been fully and completely in love with a girl I had known practically since infancy. Was all of that a lie? Was being gay genetic? Was Billy going to go through the same thing? It took me a whole month before I had the guts to ask Bennett and I nearly stabbed him with our father’s letter opener when he laughed at me.”
Rafael winces again, knowing how touchy Fred is now, a grown adult well-respected in his professional field and still a little obsessed with slights, perceived and real. Fred huffs, forcing any trace of bitterness out of his voice.
“He told me that you can like girls and boys at the same time and that I should go see if I still liked jerking off to pictures of Jennifer Connolly.” Rafael isn’t able to suppress his snort.
“I always liked Carrie Fisher,” he tells Fred, smiling over at him.
“You would, you pervert,” Fred shoots back. “Probably loved that bikini, didn’t you?”
“I think I’ll plead the Fifth on that one.”
Fred shakes his head and sighs deeply.
“Well, naturally, that was enough humiliation for me for one afternoon and so I threw a throw pillow at him and bolted for my room.”
“Did you jerk off to Jennifer Connolly?”
“Rafael, I can still kick you out of this apartment.”
“Sorry.” Rafael is silent for all of twelve seconds before he asks again, “Come on Fred, I’ve got to know; did you?”
“...Maybe,” Fred reluctantly admits. Rafael laughs and squeezes his hand.
“Moving on from your prurient obsession with my teenaged masturbatory life,” Fred says pointedly, managing to sound arch, offended, and haughty all at the same time. “I contemplated for a while what Benn had told me. A long time actually--that percolated in my brain all throughout the rest of high school. I only ever dated girls, I ignored it completely every time I was even remotely attracted to another boy, but I kept thinking about that. Not only did I have a lifelong conviction that if Bennett said it it must be so, but it just sort of felt right, you know?”
Rafael nods, remembering a similar feeling he had when he was younger. Despite what the other boys in his neighborhood said about “queers”, despite what the Church said, and despite what he knew his father would do to him if he heard Rafael’s thoughts, he was what he was and that was that. Fuck anyone who said different, he remembered thinking. It’s not like he could change it, even if he wanted to.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he answers when it’s clear that Fred requires some encouragement to continue. Fred twines his fingers with Rafael’s before carrying on.
“I lived with Benn in college. Our father bought him an apartment in Cambridge the day he got his acceptance letter from Harvard, and it only seemed logical that I’d move in once I got accepted too. And, I don’t know. It was a little easier there.” Rafael thinks he grimaces, but it’s hard to tell in the dark.
“It has been a while though, since I’ve indulged. And I've never participated frequently.” Every word seems like it’s forced out of Fred’s mouth.
“All this to say, Rafael,” Fred murmurs, inching closer across the sheets, “Is that the problem was never you.”
Rafael gathers him into his arms this time. Fred goes willingly, releasing a heavy, shaky breath and clearly relieved to not be talking about this anymore.
“I know,” Rafael reassures him. “I know it wasn’t me. I was just… I don’t know. I was worried.” He smiles, giving Fred another squeeze. “You’re a delicate little flower Freddie, I want to make sure I don’t trample all over you.”
“Get out of this bed this instant.”
Rafael laughs and they settle down to sleep.
***
The three of them celebrate in Rafael’s tiny Brooklyn apartment when Fred returns from Baltimore. He insists that he wants to cook and, though he had his doubts about his equally minuscule kitchen, manages to turn out an incredible ropa vieja. His mother would be proud.
When the empty plates are discarded on his coffee table, stacked haphazardly and waiting to eventually be washed by whoever loses the inevitable game of ‘who had the harder day’, Rafael sinks back into the couch and smiles benignly basking in the praise of the two of them and their company. Four days is starting to become too long to go between times when they’re all together and though he wants to frown at the unpleasant feeling of missing the both of them when they aren’t around he loves it a little bit as well. Every other wandering thought was of the two of them and he can’t deny that it's nice to feel these first desperate stirrings of a relationship again.
“I don’t know how you made all of that, Rafael. I’m pretty sure my cousin Caroline had a bigger kitchen in her dollhouse.” Fred surprises him when he leans closer to Rafael, snuggling contentedly against him. Rafael had told the third of their little trio that he and Fred had finally slept together--hiding things in a threesome was the quickest way to hurt feelings. Everyone was going to eventually do things without everyone involved and it’s best to just let that out in the open--but he hadn’t expected Fred to offer such casual affection so freely.
Rafael catches her looking at the two of them with a soft smile on her face and returns it with one of his own. She hid it well but she was a little disappointed during their FaceTime when he had warned her that Fred might not be overly demonstrative yet. Rafael knew she felt a little--guilty wasn’t the word she would use, he knew, if he could ever get her to talk about it--uncomfortable about how much more open Fred was with her than he was with Rafael. He loves how hard she tries to remind him that Fred is just anxious, cautious, a little scared. Rafael is a grown man and doesn’t need his hand held, but the fact that she tries to anyways makes his heart feel like it’s growing through his ribcage sometimes.
When Rafael looks back down at Fred he looks like he’s about to fall asleep with his head nuzzled against Rafael’s shoulder. He would describe it as endearing until Fred moves one of his hands high onto Rafael’s thigh. Rafael smirks.
“All it took was one night and he’s already falling for me,” he says to her in a stage whisper. Fred is unfortunately still awake enough to jab Rafael in the ribs, settling down only after the air is knocked out of Rafael’s lungs with an “oof”.
“As long as you remember to invite me to the wedding,” she teases. Rafael watches her duck admirably as Fred throws a cushion at her head.
“You’re supposed to throw a bouquet at me, not a pillow!”
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Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)
Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.
EPILOGUE: A HOUSE DIVIDED
Word Count: 1451 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader Rating: T Content Warnings: swearing, references to violence (canon-typical), heavy angst  Cross-posted to AO3: here
Previous Chapter: Darkness Falls || Masterlist
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has stuck by me, read, reblogged, commented, messaged. I don’t know where I’d be without all of you (probably still back at chapter 3). While this is the end of Light Fingers, it is not the end of the story. I just need to take a little time and approach canon with care.
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A week of radio silence followed that night. As the days went by, you tried your best to return to your normal, to waiting tables and bantering with kitchen staff and trying to pretend you weren’t holding yourself together by a thread. 
Something immediately felt off as you entered the apartment one night after a double shift and dropped your keys by the door. Conjuring enough light to see and no more, you began creeping through the room. It didn't take long to see that all of Diego's things were gone - except Duncan, the dog snoozing blissfully on the couch. You weren’t surprised. After all, if he’d wanted to put things back together, or thought you could, he would have reached out before now. So instead he had quickly and quietly removed his presence from your apartment, and very likely walked out of your life without a word. The thought stung, that for all you had intertwined your lives, he was still able to remove himself in a day. 
The light on your answering machine was blinking, and numbly you hit the button and listened to Patch’s message. 
~
“Thank you for finally returning my call,” Eudora said exasperatedly, as she took a seat across from you in the little cafe the following Sunday.
“Sorry Dora,” you offered her a sheepish and regretful half-smile. “I haven’t really felt like seeing anyone lately. Besides, I didn’t want to put you in an awkward place. I know you and Diego were, are…”
“Close? The three of us all were. Why do you think I’ve been trying to reach you?”
You looked down, tracing the wood grains of the tabletop. “There’s no fixing this one, Dora. We’re...too far gone.”
“How? You two were good for each other. A blind man could see it.”
“Irreconcilable differences.”
“We both know that’s bullshit, Y/N.”
“I...made a choice. One Diego couldn’t agree with. We fought about it. And when he decided to walk out, I not only let him, I practically packed his bags. And in the end it turned out to be pointless anyway.”
Yesterday’s paper had contained an article about how the investigation into Reginald had been dropped for lack of foundation, and he’d been able to collect a substantial insurance payout for the warehouse, and the feds had offered an official statement of apology on top of everything else. You had scared a local alley cat with the tantrum that had followed reading that. Because of course, trying to take him down had cost you everything and he’d still won in the end. How else could it have gone?
“Why do I bother,” Eudora sighed with a frustrated gesture. “I should have known you’d be just as cryptic as he was.”
“It’s complicated, Dora, so it’s easier than trying to explain and sounding completely nuts. I wish I could tell you. But the details don’t really matter, just that I fucked up, big time, and I can’t undo it.”
She reached across the table to take one of your fidgeting hands in her own. “Y/N. Listen to me. I know you and I know Diego. It’s not too late for the two of you. I can tell how much you both still care.”
“It’s not about that,” you struggled to keep back your tears. “We just weren’t meant to be. Forcing it will only break things worse.”
You winced, the words sounding harsh and a little bit fake. But they were true, or at least that’s what you wanted to convince yourself of so that you could move on. 
“Besides, he came by when I was at work and took all his stuff. Doesn’t that pretty much scream final?”
“I’ve talked to him, Y/N. I’ve seen him. He’s really messed up. And I don't think he's eating much or sleeping at all if I'm being honest.”
“Why are you telling me this?” your voice trembled, heart breaking with every word. 
“You could find him, probably at the Lion,” she fixed you with a look and tilted her head to one side. “You could talk to him.”
You shook your head. “There's nothing left to say.” 
“You're really giving up that easily?”
You wanted to scream, or to somehow explain that it was anything but easy. But that it was the right thing to do. For Diego’s sake. He, and she, would understand someday, you had to believe that.
“Eudora, please.”
“Fine. If neither of you is going to fight for this, I guess I should just deliver you his message.”
Despite yourself, your heart leapt at the idea Diego actually had something left to say. And then it plummeted a moment later when you realized that whatever it was, he couldn’t say himself, he had to ask your mutual best friend to do it for him. 
“I’m sorry, that you’re stuck in the middle. You don’t...have to be our carrier pigeon. If you don’t want to,” you said sheepishly, shrugging slightly. 
“If I don’t, you wouldn’t communicate at all.”
“That might--”
“If you say it’s for the best, I will walk out,” Eudora snapped, making you reel back in shock. “I hate the cryptic non-answers, but at least it’s not full-on lying to me. So don’t start.” 
You swallowed down whatever you were going to say and sighed. “You said you had a message from Diego?”
“He asked me to give you these,” she laid a set of keys on the table. “Said the apartment was your home and he’d never dream of trying to take it in whatever divorce papers you end up filing. And that he picked up his things, which I know you saw. Anything he left behind, he said, is not important.”
You looked down at the keys, letting some of the tears you’d fought so hard against fall. 
‘He left me behind,’ you wanted to say. ‘He left us.’ But that wouldn’t be fair, or help anything, so you bit your tongue. 
“Y/N,” she sounded apologetic but you could tell she no more knew the words to say than you did. Instead after a moment, she carried on. “He also said that a gym is no place for a boxer, which I think was him trying to make a joke, and that at least if you keep Duncan, he’ll know there’s someone watching your back and making sure you come home.”
You couldn’t help your snort of disbelief or the bitter tone of your response. “As if I’m the one to worry about there, not him with his stupid vigilante crime-fighting bullshit. I only ever got involved in that because of him, for him.” Somehow, that was the thing that opened the floodgates and you began to cry in earnest. “Fuck, Dora. He’s going to get himself killed someday.”
She reached over to take your hand again, giving it a comforting squeeze. Silence reigned over you for a few minutes, while she let you cry it out and offered you quiet support. 
“He won’t,” she said, eventually. “We both know he’s careful, and insanely lucky. And…” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to leave him completely on his own. I’m in line for an early promotion, and then I’ll be able to have people looking out for him.”
You offered her a watery smile, almost laughing. “I don’t know what I’d do, or either of us would, without you.”
She shrugged. “Good thing you won’t ever find out.”
The rest of the conversation flowed naturally, as it always did, or nearly so. After a few stinted failures to start, you carried on as if it was any other coffee date. As you were paying your bills, the light caught the silver band still on your finger. You bit your lip, slowly sliding it off, its weight heavy in your palm despite how slim, how small it was.
“Eudora, can I ask one more favor?” you asked hesitantly.
“Of course, Y/N. What are friends for?” she said, offering you a smile.
You held the ring out to her. “Can you give this to Diego for me? And tell him that I’m sorry. And I still love him. No, actually, don’t tell him that. Just...that he should have this back, and I hope that maybe someday, I can be the person he saw who deserved it. Or something like that. I don’t know. It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” You shook your head, swiping at more tears that were threatening to spill. 
She flashed you a sympathetic half-smile. “I’ll give him your message.” 
Your fingers shook as you passed the ring over to her, a heavy weight of true finality settling over you.
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ruby-whistler · 3 years
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You know I think a part of the reason the whole Dream/Tommy apologist thing is occurring because people have the (understandable) tendency to always expect the worst from everyone on the internet.
I mean, would you rather believe the other side;
Is full of young, ignorant, pitiful, stupid, or downright terrible people? Victim blames and thinks bad things people do is okay if they’re attractive? Doesn’t understand the source material or purposefully misunderstands it, and spreads misinformation in order to excuse disgusting actions? Hates the actor behind the character you like as well as the character himself? Are some sort of mysterious, dark corner of the community you have a right to avoid and mock?
or
That it’s filled with smart, often genuinely kind people who have gone through dark periods of their life or are simply highly empathetic and relate to the character you dislike? That it’s a community that came together to do accurate and objective analysis of the source material and might have uncovered something you don’t know? That they’re fans just like you who’s opinions are valid and should be listened to, and who don’t deserve harassment or being treated differently for not going with the flow and working hard to consider the scapegoat character’s perspective? That they’re exhausted and disturbed by people dehumanizing someone who has been abandoned and deserves support in their eyes, or downright saying he deserves his human rights being taken away?
Would you rather think of those who disagree with you as;
Children that project too much, think in black and white, and don’t care about the other side of the coin as long as their favorite character isn’t being given consequences for his actions? Aggressive, condescending, unempathetic people who would vote for the first person that gave them a cookie in the street? Fans who deny canon to excuse blaming everything on a character you’re trying to defend? Who are caught up in a single person’s point of view too much to see other characters in the story are hurting as well and don’t deserve it either? People who will never try to understand you and are a lost cause, only to be thought of as immature pricks who would support a dictatorship if fed enough propaganda?
or
People who have genuine emotional attachment to the character? Who have watched him and think he’s often mischaracterized? Who see him being mistreated by the adults around him, and just want him to have some peace in his life for once? Who have seen the hurt and hurt along with him, because they feel sympathy for the trauma he has gone through? Who don’t excuse bad actions, but want it to be acknowledged that the consequences weren’t even close to matching the crimes? Who have made conclusions based on the only evidence they were presented? Who don’t know and are curious about your opinions, but only straight-up deny them because that’s what’s considered the norm?
It’s easy to villainize the other side, because it makes us feel superior. And we naturally want to feel like we’re in the right, like we’re the only ones in the right. We don’t want to feel bad for generalizing, insulting or accusing an entire group of people, and we do that because it’s what expected of us within the community. I think this fact was proven over and over again throughout human history, and even though the Dream SMP fandom isn’t a country or a warzone, the psychology remains the same. We want to feel accepted, and if to do that we have to look down on others, we’ll justify that to ourselves by assuming they’re morally inferior.
I know it might be difficult, especially for the Dream apologists, and those who have tried to believe in the good in the other side but got burnt by condescending responses and emotionally charged insults. But if our attitude becomes an us vs. them mentality, nothing’s ever gonna get better.
I don’t want to sound all preachy and stuff, I know very well there’s always going to be a fierce and toxic minority, but people, this is the norm in our fandom. Dream apologists and Dream apologists alone I’ve witnessed and heard, have been send death threats, insulted, harassed, and things that are too vile for me to list because I don’t want to guilt-trip y’all. All of this for...
What was it again? Relating with a character faced with abandonment and emotional self-isolation? Crying over the fact there’s a traumatized man being dehumanized by the entire fandom, on top of being physically and mentally abused in canon, which some even find justified?
I don’t get defensive over myself, ever. You can say anything and act any way to me and I’m probably going to think I’m in the wrong and apologise to you. But I see a bunch of well-meaning people get demonized over taking a liking to a morally complex character and trying to explain his motivations to people, and something inside of me just stirs in fury.
“Why do there have to be sides anyway?” Because of miscommunication, that’s why. You can’t communicate unless the other side wants to listen though, and the most infuriating thing is when they aren’t.
You guys better look forward to the fandom analysis I’m making. 500 out of a 1000 opinions in the survey have been read, remembered, and categorized. I already see the only way to try and shift this fandom to be a less toxic space is to consider listening to each other for once instead of thinking everyone who disagrees with you is someone who has insufficient or ridiculous reasons. If you villainize the other side they’re only going to get more stubborn, evidenced by the Dream apologists being one of the most tight-knit communities I’ve ever been in. If you want them to understand you, perhaps try to understand them first.
I’m just sorry for the rest who are caught in the crossfire of this garbage. I’m gonna try my best to inform people, because so many have no idea about the other side’s true motivations and it’s hurting people + making the community more divided.
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thecipherlegacy · 3 years
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12 and/or 21 for your choice? ~@dragonheart-swtor
I chose both with Arianness and Noshiir, hope you like it!
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Arianness had spent the day out doing smuggling runs non stop as she waited for Toovee to contact them about her boyfriend's recovery from their last run together. It wasn't life threatening that she knew of, but he had been knocked out for over two days after an escape gone wrong against pirates. He had gotten a hard hit on the noggin and a couple of scrapes after a rough jump into hyperspace and hadn't woken up since. Toovee got the poor man into a kolto tank, but the waiting was the worst part.
"Hey, pinky" chasaadia greeted her captain as she sat up front with her. "How are you holding up?"
"Im fine" the Twi'lek responded. "A little worry won't stop me from making credits. Also, Noshiirs skull is resilient. He'll come through. I know he will. That thick skulls gotta be good for somethin." The captain smiled at her friend, but that weak chuckle was less than convincing.
"You mask your concern with humor." The large nautolan crossed her arms and gave an unamused look. "And you keep your nerves in check by working."
Arianness scoffed "what in the galaxy makes you think that, Red? Suddenly a psychology expert, are ya?" Her curt reply got no answer, so she stayed silent as well. Her hands ran over the steering console and she sighed. At one point she would have been happy to be rid of the man, but so much had changed since then and she missed his stupid jokes and his silly smile. The ship was quiet without the sounds of his tinkering echoing throughout it.
"Talk to me, Ari." Chasaadia demanded in a sisterly tone once the silence became too much. "I'm not some meathead. I know you're upset."
The smaller woman's purple eyes glanced at Chasaadia, then back down at the console. "Do you think he'll be alright? He hit his head pretty hard." Was all she could think to ask. Realistically she knew her friend had the same knowledge of Noshiors condition as she did, but the reassurance was all she needed.
A numbing silence filled the ship, then the nautolan took a deep breath. "I gotta admit, he took a nasty spill, and there was a pretty gnarly amount of blood." This earned her a sharp look. "But, I trust my Toovee with my life, and I sure as hell trust him with Noshiirs. He's in good hands." Despite how her response began, her gentle smile comforted Arianness. The Bounty hunter never was good woth being gentle, so this was surely the best she was going to get.
"Thanks Chassy. I should really put more faith in Toovee. Hes patched us up in much worse circumstances. Im sure Noshiir will be okay... I just need to not think about it"
The other womans large hand pat Arianness's shoulder "Then let's go make some credits. Toovee will call when that bonehead wakes up."
With a nod, the captain jumped to hyperspace to go to their drop off on Tattooine. Right out of the spaceport there were Jawas swarming to try and trade, which the Captain denied and Chasaadia threatened if they got too close or too rowdy. Couldn't risk the shipment being stolen or damaged.
Both women kept some wraps over their heads to avoid the heat in any way they could until they made it to the Cantina, where they finally met up with their contact, who looked seedy, but had the credits.
"Alright so you can count it. All the blasters and stims you ordered are in there." Arianness said. As the man counted, her communicator began to go off. "Chasaadia, take over for a sec." She stated before getting up and answering the call. Toovee was a relief to see. "Oh thank the force- how is Noshiir?-"
"I am pleased to tell you that he is awake and functional. He still needs rest, but everything seems to be in order, so whenever you're ready to come home-"
"We'll see you soon!" Arianness grinned from ear to ear before hanging up "He's awake, Chassy! Lets go!" She called and rushed out of the cantina before getting any response.
"He hasn't paid!" The hunter argued and watched the younger woman leave with a grunt.
"Well, guess I dont gotta pay, then" the client smirked, but was quick to change his mind when a blaster was shoved against his nose.
By the time the Nautolan was back on the ship, her captain was already getting it started up and ready to go. "So,what happened to 'a little worry won't stop me from making credits'?" She asked with a frown. "You almost didn't get paid for that shipment."
"I lied. C'mon, red. You knew that" Arianness said woth a shrug. "Now strap in. We're going home."
"Im taking a bigger cut from this one, you idiot." Chasaadia sighed again and sat down beside her "and I mean that in the most loving way."
Those purple eyes looked at her playfully as they left the space station. "I know. And you deserve it, take what you want."
This surprised the hunter,but she decided not to mention it. Arianness used to care more about a missed score or being ripped off. Her love for the zabrak had changer her priorities for the better.
The ride home was relatively quiet as Arianness was so focused on getting there fast. The moment they entered the atmosphere of Alderaan she was practically buzzing with joy.
"I've never seen you like this" Chasaadia finally said. "So happy. Its nice."
The captains cheeks flushed bashfully "oh- thanks Chassy... I'm just relieved he's okay- I mean... aren't you excited to see Toovee?" She asked as the ship was brought in to land in their hangar.
"Of course I am." The other scoffed. "But you're like a little kid on life day."
Arianness huffed and shut off the engines "I'm just... going to be happy to see him walking around again, you know?... it was my carelessness that caused his injury. I could have lost him, kinda puts things into perspective. Helps me appreciate what we have even more."
There was a brief silence, then Chasaadia chuckled fondly and stood up. "Sap." Was all she said as she walked to the airlock.
"Hey!" Arianness frowned and followed her "shut up."
They stepped off the ship to see Toovee waiting for them. He was instantly fretting over Chasaadia, as he always did after their runs. The Twi'lek waved to him as she rushed up to the medical bay, where Noshiir was standing up on shaky legs.
She smiled at the sight, but also worried since she knew he probably shouldn't have been walking yet. "And what are you doing out of bed, mister?" Her tone was like a mothers as she approached him to look the poor man over. He had fresh bandages on his head and stomach and a few bruises on his red skin. His hair was up in a messy bun, leaving some of it hanging over the right side of his face. Despite it all, Noshiir looked up at her and gave her that million credit smile.
"Damn... youre a sight for sore eyes, Captain." He said. "When Toovee said y'all were coming home i thought I'd greet you but... uh... yeah I only made it this far."
She sighed and put his hands on her hips "Put your weight on me, can't have you falling and hitting your head again, you goof" Arianness chuckled a little and held his face in her palms softly. "Nice to see those blue eyes again..." she brushed the strands of hair from his face and curled it behind his ear. "Im so sorry you got so hurt... I should've been more careful."
His brows knotted "What? Darlin.... this wasn't your fault, shit happens. I'm just grateful to be up and looking at your pretty mug again" he argued. The captain frowned and her pink cheeks tinted red.
"You flatterer." Came yet another sigh. "I love you.... never scare me like that again"
His weight shifted so their foreheads touched. "I love you too, but no promises. You know I'm accident prone."
Arianness snickered. There was truth to his words. He was clumsy and definitely drew attention in a fight. She gently guided his head lower to kiss his brow. "Then lay back down, clutz. I'll get you some lunch, I'm sure you're famished"
He smiled and relaxed into her touch before doing as he was told "Once I'm all fed maybe you can just.. lay with me a while?" He asked. The twi'lek smiled back at him and gave a small nod.
"I'd love nothing more."
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valerzya · 2 years
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𝖛𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖞𝖆 𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖐𝖔𝖛 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 . . .
( irina shayk. cis woman. she/her. the question & mac miller. ) have you seen VALERIYA LENKOV strolling around central park at lunchtime? rumor has it they’re actually THIRTY-FIVE years old, but i’m pretty sure they’re only THIRTY. they’re currently posing as a SCREENPLAY WRITER, but when dusk falls, you can usually find them heading home to MANHATTAN by CAR SERVICE. apparently they DID attend the met gala this season! 
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hello, all ! i’m lauryn, 21, my pronouns are she/her, and i currently reside within the cst timezone. i’ve been tumblr rping on and off for about 8 years now, and this is my first time playing valeriya. here’s is my second muse of this rp, valeriya lenkov ! her about is listed here, her statistics are listed here, and her plotting page is listed here. if you’d like to claim any of the plots on that page or do some other plotting, shoot me a message ! i prefer discord, but i’m open to messaging on tumblr. my discord is limes#6826. i look forward to writing with everyone !
TW: CHRONIC ILLNESS, DEPRESSION, MURDER
born in a rural mining town located in russia to a coal miner and a home birth midwife, valeriya nikolayevna lenkov had a relatively average upbringing. as an only child, she received a generous amount of attention from her parents. when they were not working, they were home with their daughter. valeriya was a frail child who often grew sick, though she received a lot of attention from locals who referred to her as the most beautiful child in town. her parents dreamed of whisking her away to the united states, where they could hopefully get a diagnosis for her illness. sponsored by valeriya’s aunt in manhattan, the family prepared to make the jump by spending their free time practicing their english and setting up employment for valeriya’s father at his sister’s husband’s work.
upon arriving in manhattan, valeriya, now seven, and her family lived with her aunt and her husband for nearly a year. valeriya’s mother had found work as a seamstress while her father migrated from food preparation to a construction job, which finally earned the family some health benefits. with that in place and with the recommendation of a specialist, valeriya was put through a series of medical examinations. after numerous pokes and prods and a scan or two, no affliction had been identified. it had become an assumption that valeriya’s susceptibility to sickness was due to a compromised immune system, though nothing was ever confirmed.
life in manhattan differed greatly from valeriya’s upbringing. she had gone from the quiet, desolate roads to a bustling city crowded with rats and bodies. school had been rough on valeriya for the first couple years; her english was far from perfect and she would go through periods of illness that made her truant. she was lucky to not have to repeat any grades, though it came close. her parents’ work schedules had become more hectic since the move, with her father being on call and her mother working full time at odd hours, so it was often left to her aunt to look after her.
middle school and high school proved to be far more tolerable for valeriya. english was no longer a concern of hers after years of schooling, and she received ample attention for her good looks and compassionate nature. valeriya was considered popular amongst her peers despite her occasional disappearance from school for a week or so at a time. her friends doted on her, filling the void that her mostly absent parents had left; they would often visit her with comfort foods and gifts when she was sick.
in her sophomore year of high school, valeriya met a boy that she would deem to be her first love. she fell head over heels for the boy, and he returned her affections. it wasn’t long until valeriya began to exhibit obsessive behaviors though, resulting in their split. valeriya was heartbroken and looked for any distraction to fill her time. she landed on cinema, specifically horror cinema. valeriya expressed an interest in writing her own horror flicks, finding some sort of direction that she had previously lacked. upon graduating high school, valeriya grew seriously ill. her fever refused to break, and she was forced to spend all of her time at home. when she felt well enough, she would fill the silence with the scribbling of her pencil.
after a month, valeriya finally recovered and began taking community college courses on film and screenwriting. she had no intent to seek a degree, having struggled enough already with schooling. her intention was simply to educate herself on how to adapt her stories into screenplays and potentially make a career out of it. in the meantime, she took a job as a waitress at a local cafe. they were understanding in regards to her illness and gave her shifts sparingly, but it was enough to purchase the things that she desired. valeriya grew to be a cynical young adult with bouts of depression. her heartbreak weighed heavy on her, even after years, and her illnesses brought on feelings of hopelessness.
with three completed screenplays in the hands of the twenty-five year old, valeriya sought out the support of an agent. after four failed attempts, someone finally took an interest in her material. by age twenty-seven, valeriya had sold her first script through a production company. it was set to be developed as a direct-to-dvd movie, and valeriya made a killing from it. finally able to move out of her parents’ manhattan apartment into her own one-bedroom apartment, valeriya felt a dash of hope. however, after a couple years of letdowns and rejection, her hope dwindled once again. valeriya grew resentful toward the world, cursing it for the ways it had failed her. her once compassionate spirit had disappeared, replaced with a bitter, pessimistic nature.
at the age of thirty, valeriya met a strange person ( vampire ) who piqued her interest. she was hypnotized by this being and spent a large portion of her time at their side. they were strong and capable, something that she envied. often expressing her envy for these traits, the being took it upon themselves to make valeriya more like them. she was changed into a vampire and for the first time in her lifetime, she radiated with strength and resiliency. her life had been taken from her, but it was almost as though it was just beginning.
finding inspiration to write again, with her mind firing on all cylinders, valeriya produced three more screenplays within a year. miraculously, two out of three sold with both generating a six figure price point. she spent the rest of her time absorbing what was now her life. her thirst for blood empowered her, and she felt superior to the weak humans she fed on. she would familiarize herself with those she fed on before she took their life, viewing feeding as a sport. valeriya had become childish, reckless, and manipulative. she only saw others for what she could gain from them. though she acted a fool, she was intelligent and perceptive. as the years passed, she sold two more screenplays, gaining notoriety within that world. valeriya finally feels as though she’s unstoppable, and she won’t let anything or anyone get in her way.
TLDR ; valeriya was a sickly child who immigrated from russia to manhattan when she was seven. due to what was likely a compromised immune system, she often fell ill. in high school, she suffered a heartbreak that led her to start creating horror screenplays. after selling one, she hit a low point after many more rejections and bouts of illness. she became bitter and resentful toward the world until she was changed into a vampire. now powerful and free from sickness, valeriya revels in her new life. she enjoys feeding on unsuspecting humans, and has even gained more notoriety as a screenplay writer.
important information about her personality can be found in her “about” section linked above.
@duskintro​
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argyle-s · 3 years
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Hello,
My name is Molly Bragg. I’m a bi trans gender author who has writing for almost three decades. I’m passionate about creating the kind of content I enjoy, which means stories that center around queer women, I’ve recently completed a original queer genre romance novel and I’m looking for help covering the cost of having it professionally edited.
To give you a preview of what you would be supporting, here’s Chapter 1:
***
Beth watched the buildings pass as the air cab carried her over Los Angeles taking in the changes the last ten years had wrought on the city.  Most of the low-income areas had been bulldozed, and those areas were now filled with alien arcologies.  Massive buildings that stretched kilometers into the sky, each one a city unto itself, and in their shadows, the skyscrapers that had once been incredible achievements of human architecture and engineering.  The buildings which had been hubs of human industry and centers of financial empires were now reduced to little more than playhouses for the backwards primitives who had the misfortune to be born natives of the Galactic Hegemony’s latest colony world. If they’d had another century or two things might have been different.  Humanity had been advancing quickly.  They wouldn’t have been on par with the technology of the Hegemony by any stretch, but they might have been able to dictate better terms.  The Gatekeepers hadn’t cared.  The gate had drifted into a stable orbit in the outer system, and the Gatekeepers had announced that, like it or not, the Sol system was being added to their vast network of space fold gates.  The first ships from the Hegemony had arrived just a month later, and ever since, Earth had been on the road to becoming the galactic equivalent of a banana republic. So far, her job and her savings had let her avoid the worst of what was happening, but unemployment was at a record high as alien automation systems replaced human labor in almost every sector.  The company she worked for had shifted gears from research and development to reverse engineering alien tech and had seen a short windfall in profits, but that was starting to vanish as the inevitable inflation drove prices up and the people they had been selling reverse engineered tech could no longer afford it. Beth wasn’t really that worried for herself.  She’d been poor before, and however much she might hate the idea she could survive being poor again.  What brought her to LA today was Sam.  Sam was getting close to graduation, and she had acceptance letters from every college that could afford postage.  A 4.0 unweighted GPA, high SAT scores, and a couple of impressive summer internships meant that schools were falling all over themselves to offer her full rides.  Ten years ago, that would have all but ensured her a bright future.  These days a PhD from Harvard, Yale, or MIT wasn’t worth the cost of paper to print the degree. People still made noise about human exceptionalism and about taking humanity’s place in the larger galactic community, but Beth had spent a lot of time over the last decade studying the history of colonization on Earth, and it never once ended well for the people being colonized.Regardless of what  happened to the colonized peoples as a whole, there were always individual exceptions...  people who avoided the fate of their brethren.  It was her determination to ensure her daughter’s future that brought her to LA today.   While billionaires had started buying their kids spots in alien schools the moment they were  allowed out of the Sol System, Beth didn’t have that option.  She was well off enough that she and Sam weren’t feeling the effects of the colonization yet, but nowhere near rich enough to buy a ticket off-world for Sam, much less pay for an off-world education.  Instead, she’d spent years looking into other options.  So far, none of her work had paid off, but she hadn’t given up hope.   She was headed to a meeting with a broker who helped place kids into programs that offered grants, scholarships and all expenses paid exchange programs.  She was going to find a way to offer her daughter a better future than most of Earth’s children could look forward to.  No matter what it took. *** “Ms. Murray, it’s so nice to meet you,” the man said as he held out his hand.  Beth took it and gave it a quick shake while trying her best not to let on that he reminded her of a used car salesman.  She needed his help, and it wouldn’t do to offend him. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Cooper.” “Please, call me Owen,” he said.  “Right this way.” He led her out of the small, brightly decorated waiting room and into a small, neat office.  He gestured to a chair in front of his desk as he walked around behind it and took his seat. “So, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here Ms. Murray.  You are looking for an opportunity for your daughter to continue her education off-world, is that correct?” “Yes,” Beth said. “Okay.  I just wanted to make sure that we’re both looking for the same outcome.  Now, I’ve gone through Samantha’s records.  Academically, she’s in great shape, and the extra-curriculars are good too.  I’ve been able to find at least twenty different programs that will accept her.” “That’s great,” Beth said, though she didn’t believe it.  She’d heard the exact same thing from more than a dozen other brokers, and she suspected she wasn’t going to hear anything new.  “What are the terms?” “It varies from program to program.  All of them require a period of indenture, but some are as low as eight years.” Beth tried to hide her disappointment.  She wanted to give her daughter a better future, not sell her into virtual slavery for almost a decade. “Owen, I’m looking for a program without any period of indenture.  I know they exist, but you’re the fifteenth broker I’ve talked to and none of them have offered even an application to an indenture free program.” “They do exist, but Ms. Murray, you must understand.  There are a lot of people who want their children to receive an off-world education, and slots which don’t require a period of indentured service are in especially high demand.” “I understand that, but I haven’t gotten high demand, I’ve gotten completely unavailable.  I’d like to know why no one will even consider letting her apply.” Owen looked at her for almost a minute, not saying anything, before he finally leaned back in his chair and let out a weary sigh. “Honestly, Ms. Murray?” “Please.” “Those slots go to the kids of billionaires, presidents, CEO’s, ambassadors, kings and other high level government types.  Each year, a handful will go to some poor kids from the ghetto so that they can parade them around as part of a puff piece about how generous the aliens are, but that’s just window dressing.  The truth is, your daughter is neither rich enough, nor poor enough to ever get one of those slots.” Beth had to bite her tongue to keep from swearing.  She wasn’t surprised at all, but she was angry and frustrated.  She’d half suspected something like that was going on, but hearing it spelled out so clearly was still enough to make her blood boil. “Isn’t there anything, any way that I can get her off-world without selling her into slavery?” “Ms. Murray, Indentured Service is hardly slavery.” “It’s close enough.” Owen stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head. “What?” “It’s nothing.” “It’s something,” she said.  “Please.” He sighed.  “It’s not something I would normally offer to someone of your background.” “What does that mean?” “It means that some aliens have cultural practices that people of Western European descent find unpalatable, while those from other cultures would find those practices perfectly normal.” “I’m not sure I follow.” “Ms. Murray, you are aware that, much to the surprise of every biologist on the planet, there are a number of species with whom humanity shares a degree of reproductive compatibility?” “I am,” she said. “Well, there is a species called the Sionnach.  They’re native to a planet called Talamh in the Grian system, and they bear a rather striking resemblance to humans.  There are differences of course, but the basic morphology is the same.  The reason I bring this up is that about eighty years ago, Talamh suffered an environmental catastrophe that wiped out nearly ninety-five percent of their population in the span of a few weeks.  Because of their reproductive practices prior to the incident, the Sionnach found themselves facing a sort of genetic bottleneck, and they decided that the best way to alleviate this was to seek an outside infusion of genetic material.” “They’re looking for breeding stock,” Beth said. “Yes.” “You can’t be serious.” “And this is why I don’t offer this option to white people,” Owen said.  “Ms. Murray, I’m not suggesting you sell your daughter off as some kind of brood mare.  The Sionnach take selection of their mates very, very seriously.  They gather applications from a number of candidates, and the Sionnach in question reviews them, and selects the ones they like.  Then, their family reviews their choices, and select a candidate.  The candidate is then brought to the house of their prospective spouse, and they spend a period of time together.  Roughly five hours.  During that time they talk, get to know each other, and decide if they want to proceed.  If both parties agree, they enter a five year engagement.  During those five years, the candidate is treated as a member of the house.  They are given a stipend, they’re educated, they’re housed, fed, provided with medical care, and they undergo medical procedures which allow them to survive on Talamh without special equipment.” “What sort of medical procedures?” “Talamh is a high gravity world with a higher-than-normal concentration of heavy metals in the environment.  Your daughter would need procedures to be able to stand up to the local gravity, and to be able to filter out metals she would not normally be able to purge from her system.  She would also undergo a type of gene therapy which would make her more resistant to radiation and give her the ability to see parts of the infrared spectrum and hear sounds normally outside of the range of human hearing.” “That sounds dangerous.” “The Sionnach are one of the founding species of the Hegemony.  Their technology is thousands of years more advanced than ours, and they’ve been doing these procedures since before humans built their first cities.” Beth shook her head.  “An arranged marriage…  I don’t know.” “If I’m honest, it’s a long shot.  You would have to take your daughter for a screening.  She’d have to pass the screening for any sort of genetic issues that would eliminate her, then she would have to be selected by one of the Sionnach.  If that happens, you and your family would have to travel to Talamh at the expense of the Sionnach house that selected her, and your daughter would have to get through the initial interview.  But if she does, she would get the education you want for her.” “And what happens at the end of the five years if she decides she doesn’t want to marry the person who selected her.” “Then she’s free to walk away.  She’d be given a small amount of money, and passage to anywhere within the Hegemony, but she’d be free to do what she wants.” “No indenture?  No repayment of expenses?” Beth asked. “No,” Owen said.  “But again, it’s a long shot, and I take my normal fee just to put you through the application process, whether she gets selected or not.” “How many humans get selected?” Beth asked. “She’d be the first,” Owen said. “What’s your fee?” Beth asked. “Five hundred Hegemony credits.” Beth winced.  Given current exchange rates, that was almost ten thousand dollars. “How quickly would we know?” Beth asked. Owen turned and woke up his computer.  She watched as he pulled up a page and scrolled through before clicking on a link. “There’s only one family looking right now.  Applications are due by the end of next week.  You’d know in a month, tops.” Beth thought about it for a moment.  It was a longshot, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea, but it was better than an indenture, so she reached for her credit card. *** Sam looked up from her homework at the sound of a light knock on her bedroom door.  The door was wide open, and her mother was standing there looking at her.  Sam couldn’t quite place the expression on her face but given the appointment she had earlier, Sam didn’t have any doubt about what it meant. “No luck, huh?” she asked, trying not to let the relief she felt creep into her voice.  She knew an off-world education would open a lot of doors for her and give her opportunities that she wouldn’t have otherwise, and she really did want to go off-world, travel in space and see other planets someday, but the idea of living on another planet for four or more years was both frightening and overwhelming. “Not much,” her mom said.  “He did have one program you could apply for that doesn’t include an indenture period.  I emailed you the link to the application.  I need you to fill it out today, because I made an appointment for tomorrow for you to go for the physical and psych scan that’s required.” “Tomorrow?  Mom, tomorrow’s Jenny’s birthday party.” “I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry.  I know you were looking forward to the party, but you might have to miss it.  I’ve already got us portal tokens, and tomorrow is the only day we can go before the deadline without you missing school.  I made the appointment for as early as I could, so you should get home in time to go.” Sam wanted to argue, but she already knew it was useless.  She hadn’t missed a day of school since halfway through the eighth grade, and she knew her mom wasn’t going to let her start less than a month before graduation.  She also knew her mom wasn’t going to let her pass up a chance at an off-world scholarship just to go to a birthday party.  Even if the birthday girl was her best friend who she’d been crushing on since Kindergarten.  Of course, her mom didn’t exactly know that last part because she hadn’t told her she liked girls.  She’d considered telling her a few times, but she’d always changed her mind at the last minute, because if her mom knew she liked girls, she might decide that Jenny was a distraction that Sam didn’t need in her life and that wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight. “Fine,” she said, reaching for her laptop.  “I’ll do the application now.” “Thank you.  And Sam, I love you.” “I love you too, mom,” she said. Her mom left and Sam opened up the email link, which took her to a form that asked her for an invite code.  She checked the email and sure enough, there was a code for her.  She copied it and pasted it into the form, and when she did, it took her to the next page, and a lot of the information was prepopulated, including her latest ID card photo, name and age, along with her school transcripts and medical records.  The stuff that was left for her to fill out read more like a dating profile than a college application. The first section was hobbies and interests and activities.  She thought about it for a minute and decided to just be honest instead of going through all the BS she usually did for the college apps.  She put down soccer, swimming, surfing, electronics, robotics, reading, martial arts, camping and motocross.  She attached pictures of herself in her soccer uniform, along with a couple of video clips from some of the team’s games, then she added a few videos of her swim meets, and a couple of pictures and some videos of her surfing.  She pulled up her YouTube folder and attached a few build videos for some of her robotics projects, along with the parts lists, schematics, models for the 3D printed parts, and the source code for the micro-controllers she’d written.  She added a picture of her holding two trophies from a local Karate tournament where she’d placed second in sparring, and third in bo staff, and added a few videos of her matches.  She also added a few pictures from her camping trips and a picture of her sitting on a dirt bike, along with a video Jenny had taken of her running one of the beginner courses, then pulled up her ebook library and dumped the list of all her books, listed her favorite movies and attached all her playlists from her music library. The next section was a little weird.  It asked about what sort of foods she liked, so she gave a list.  Then is asked whether she enjoyed various activities.  Most of them were fairly common things.  Theater, music, art.  A couple she had to check the cultural database link.  She was surprised and excited when she found out that whoever was sponsoring this program apparently considered dragon racing important enough to put on the questionnaire. All in all, she spent about two hours filling out the application, and once she was done, she hit submit, and then pulled out her cell phone and opened up her text messages with Jenny. Sam:  ‘Bad news.  I might miss your party.’ Jenny:  ‘What?!!!’ Sam:  ‘Mom’s dragging me to New York in the morning for a physical and a psych scan for a scholarship.’ Jenny:  ‘She’s still on that off-world college kick?’ Sam:  ‘Yeah.’ Jenny:  ‘Girl, you don’t want to go to college with ET’s’ Sam:  ‘I’ve got to get accepted before I have to worry about it.’ Jenny:  ‘Come by my place when you’re done.  Even if you miss the party, I want to see you.’ Sam:  ‘Will do.  See you tomorrow.’ Jenny;  ‘Night.’ Sam sat down her phone and looked at her homework.  She’d wanted to finish before dinner, but there was no way that was happening now.  She grabbed it anyway and went back to work, trying to get as much done as possible before her mom called her downstairs. 
***
End Chapter 1
***
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mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years
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Guardian of Creatures; AU! Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 12
*Author’s note*
Well this took some time and planning about what chapter I wanted to do next but I finally took a route and went with it. So NEW CAST MEMBER IS ADDED TO THIS LIST!!! It took me forever to figure out two of my top choices until I decided on how to use them both in a way. So for those that might not know his face, you MIGHT have heard his voice over work so the chosen one to play the Devil, Lucifer Morningstar himself, I’ve chosen Troy Baker. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and until the next update :)
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Chapter 12,
The search for Archimedes
*Serafina’s POV*
It took who knows how long but I finally arrived at the edge of the desert over a gorge where the Nile river ran it’s course.  I got off my mare and stroked her nose.
“Time for you to return to the village. Thank you for your services Nefertiri.” She nickered lovingly and nipped at the ends of my hair. I stroked her powerful neck before she took off racing back to the village where we bought her and her mate. “Chile ehh? It’s been awhile since I’ve been in a Spanish speaking country but I hope I remember enough.”
I took a deep breath and focused my energy to shapeshift into a falcon so that I could take the long flight there.  Soon I felt myself shrinking, feathers began to slowly peek out from my skin till finally I was flying through the air.
‘Alright! Now to fly all the way to Chile.’ I then took off over the Nile which would soon lead me to the Mediterranean Sea and from there I would be over the Atlantic ocean once more.
It took practically an entire day plus a few extra hours but finally I saw the mixture of both jungle rainforest and urban towns of Chile.  I swooped down and managed to find a descent alleyway to hide away in to transform back into human form.  I let out a tired groan as I collapsed against some old boxes and bins.
“Guess I need to use any bird shapeshifting longer than a few hours. Man I hadn’t been this exhausted since the first time Freddie took over John and mine’s training.” I muttered to myself.  I heard the crash of a bin nearby and jumped but I relaxed once I saw it was just a street cat.  
It looked pretty well-fed for a street cat and it didn’t seem to be as intimidated by me as most street cats can be.
“Hey boy, you friendly?” I made a small sardine appear on the ground and that’s when the tomcat slowly got closer and closer to it. He cautiously looked up at me. “Don’t worry this is not a trick. You can eat it.” He sniffed the sardine and immediately began chowing down on it. “Good boy, good boy.”
After eating his fill, he walked closer to me.  I extended my hand and he gave me a sniff before rubbing his head against my hand and let out a soft purr.  His caution now completely disappeared as he was now wanting pets, rubbing up against me and marking my knee with his scent glands.
My eyes shifted red as I now tried to reach inside the cat’s mind so that he and I could communicate.
‘Can you hear me?’ I asked.
‘Whoa what…..oh it’s you. The lady who gave me the Sardine. How is this happening?’
‘Long story short, I’m not really human. Well all human, I’m a witch.’
‘Ahh la bruja.’
‘Sí. You know I’m surprised you can speak good English.’
‘My humans were originally from Phoenix, Arizona. They shipped me here over a year ago when they got tired of me.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’ He stretched himself out and said.
‘It happens. You scratch the curtains one too many times and next thing you know, you get the boot.’
‘Well it’s not right for them to have done that to you.’
‘Well some humans are like that señorita. Now what can I help you with? By giving me my first real meal in a while I’m honored to be any help I can for you.’
‘I don’t know if you can help me señor gato.’
‘Puss. My name is Puss.’ He told me.
‘Okay Puss.’
‘And maybe I might be able to help. I’ve been practically everywhere from the city to the rainforest, just tell me what or who you’re looking for and I might be able to help you.’
‘I’m seeking the former 3rd apprentice of Merlin. Archimedes the Wise.’ At this, Puss stopped his rubbing and stood still.  He walked a couple feet away from me and he said.
‘Ahh now that. That is a dangerous path. Are you sure you wish to open that door señorita?’
‘Please Puss. I need to find him. I—’ I trailed off trying to think of what to say. I couldn’t blow my cover story, what if Puss knew Archimedes personally? It’d scare him and he’d go running off somewhere else. ‘He has secrets about my family bloodline. I deserve to know the truth.’
His tail curled around him and his ear twitched.  He stood up and walked back towards me before hopping up on my lap.
‘I’ve heard uhh—what is it called uhh—rumors? Yes rumors from the local parakeets that fly by here. About a strange man who lives deep within the forests. A man who has the power to cure any sickness that any animal has, heal any injury. But—human must beware.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘There have been stories of people venturing too deep within those woods. Once they go in, they’re never found the same way they came in. Speaking about visions of their past, others speaking of their sins, or even seeing their worst fears. The people in the village call it-- el bosque de la locura.’ The forest of Madness huh.
‘Do you know where it is?’
‘I’ll take you as far as I can. But after that you’re on your own.’
‘All I want is the forest and you can be on your way.’ I stood up and quickly changed my Arabic attire to fit the Chilean culture.  Puss lead me out of the alleyway and he hopped up onto my shoulder and told me just where to go.
After getting out of the village and hiking up a few steep hills, I felt that the air was starting to go thick, and the jungle was slowly going silent.
‘We’re getting close Serafina.’ Puss told me.  We walked along the wide earthy path, both my feet and his paws crinkling under the dried up grass patches we’d walk along till finally he stopped. ‘Lo siento, but this is as far as I’ll go.’
‘Understandable. Thank you Puss.’ He bowed before taking off.
‘Serafina wait!’ he said after running a few feet away.  I turned to face him and he gave me one final warning. ‘There’s said to be a path that the humans take. Stay on that path if you wish to remain sane. For once you leave it, you’ll never find it again.’
“Okay, thanks for the warning Puss.” He let out a meow before racing back to the village.  I turned back towards the trail and took a deep breath before exhaling softly and continued on.
Before I knew it, I had arrived at the Forest of Madness. Hundreds of trees stood together. The wood itself rotted and decayed; the leaves dry without any moisture.  But what struck me was the very magic seeping from this very forest. It felt—sick.  As if a disease were upon it.
Just ahead of me I saw the opening of the forest and there I saw the path of stone and brick.  The bricks were old and chipped away, and the stones almost buried underneath the dead leaves.
“Alright Serafina come on, you can do this. The fate of the world depends on finding him. You can’t turn back now.” I proceeded onward and entered the Forest of Madness.
Deeper and deeper into the woods I walked, soon enough any trace of the sun vanished from the winding branches above.  I kept my eyes downward on the path and carefully felt around the ground once a corner turn would appear.  Using my tracking abilities thanks to Brian, I was able to determine just where I had to go.
Of course it wasn’t easy.  For soon the magic in this forest was really starting to seep its way into my head.  First my vision started to go blurry.  Not in the blindness sense, but like—well you know how when you first wake up after a long nap and your vision gets that hazy overview, that’s what I was seeing right now.
Then I started hearing whispers on the wind, even though there wasn’t any wind at all.  No sunlight, no fresh air, not even the sound of birds or other animals.  
Just trees. Trees and trees and more trees! Merlin’s beard is there no end to this damned forest! SNAP OUT OF IT SERAFINA!!
This forest is playing with your mind. Just—focus on the…..path? Where is it? Where’d it go? The path it just—disappeared from underneath my feet.  No, no, no that’s not possible I did not leave the path once. I was-I was—I was standing right on the path! Did I move? I could’ve maybe—I don’t know! I need to find it, need to find it need to find the path again.
Trailing on ahead, the forest seemed to get even thicker and thicker as the trees seemed to come closer together.  As I walked on I heard a deep, thunderous voice say.
“He was never good from the start!” No it—it couldn’t be.  I raced over the high roots till I came what looked like a river.  But it was probably the nastiest looking river I had ever seen.  It was so black it practically looked like tar than water.  Dustings of dead leaves floated on top, looking like a river itself.  But a figure stood there.
A male figure with long black hair and wearing familiar robes that I knew very well.
“Father?”
“He’s a Deacon. He could get us all killed! Could get you killed!” but when he turned around I saw the most horrifying sight.  His eyes were whitened over like death, dried up blood coated his lips, scars from a knife aligned each of his cheeks, and seeping from his robes was blood.  I let out a scream and tried to push him away with my telekinesis but nothing came out.
I tried again but nothing.  My hands weren’t even glowing red like they normally do.  No it-it can’t be…..I’ve—I’ve lost my powers.  In a blur, my dad went right from the lake and tackled me right down to the ground.  His hands gripping my throat trying to strangle me.
“He was dangerous! His family DID THIS TO US!! And you left us to die!”
“I’m sorry……I didn’t—mean to leave!”
“Our whole family is gone! CAN YOU NOT SEE!?” suddenly I saw the vision of each of my family members dying.  Instead of just seeing the flashes like in my recent dream, I saw it full on.
I heard the high pitched, psychotic laughter of Bellatrix as she fired shot after shot of the Cruciatus curse at my aunt Molly and uncle Arthur until finally she called the Avada Kedavra curse to finally end their suffering.  Ronan stood over my cousin George who was already holding a dead Fred in his arms.
‘You could’ve saved us.’ My father’s voice echoed in my head. ‘But you abandoned us, like a frightened child.’ My cousins Ginny, Belle and Charlie were slaughtered by John’s uncle Lucius, Ronan’s cousin by actually setting them on fire (like the witches of the Salem witch trials).
“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!” I screamed out as I held my arms out and soon all went quiet once more except for my harsh panting.
‘And soon they will follow suit.’ My father’s voice echoed hauntingly in the wind.  When I opened my eyes, every one of my family was gone.
I looked around frantically but no one was there.  The forest was once again dead silent.  I shook my head and slapped myself a few times.
“It wasn’t real. It’s not real. It’s not real.”
‘Oh Serafina, this is just beginning.’ Another voice came out from the forest. I then heard a low growl coming from the trees and soon coming out were Thor and Seraffel.
However they didn’t look like them.  Their skin was cold and pale, their eyes pure white and they had spears sticking out of their chests.  Their dragon fangs and claws extended out as well as their wings (almost as if they were stuck in mid transformation).
Coming out from another part of the forest was Brian and Roger. Roger in his full Nokken form, an open, gaping wound bleeding from his abdomen, his hair now the famed sickly seaweed green instead of his luscious golden locks, and his hands dripping blood. While Brian looked deathly pale. In his Elvish armor, he held his sword out that was stained with blood, and his eyes pure soulless almost as if he were a zombie.
“I told you before of your visions.” Soon slithering out and walking beside him were Freddie and (Y/n).  (Y/n), like Brian, their skin looked decaying and cracking away, and dirt and ash covered their chapped skin.  Freddie had various scars across him.
One on his forehead that actually made blood seep down on either side of his nose, trailing down his eyes almost like he was crying out blood.  A long gash across his stomach and a puncture wound just an inch above where the gash was.
“Freddie?” I asked bewildered.
“Everything you see before you, is all too real.” They all soon surrounded me, cutting off any chance of escape.  “You will always be that frightened little witch that chose true love over her own family. And because of that, we have fallen as well.”
“No! I-I-I-I didn’t abandon you guys! Balthazar said I wasn’t abandoning you!”
“Well he lied. Just as all the Deacons do. Kill her.” He hissed.  Soon to make the first strike was (Y/n).  They used a spell on my but I quickly dodged out of the way.  But soon piling on top of me with sharp teeth and claws were my own sons and Roger.
With my son’s dagger like teeth mixed with Roger’s serrated ones biting into my skin, it made me cry out in pure agony.  It felt like they were pealing off my skin slowly with each bite and their claws, dug deep into my flesh like a knife to a roast.  I tried to fight them off of me, trying to shapeshift into a lioness or a bear but not even my shapeshifting magic was working.
All I could do was scream and try to just push them off of me but it did me no good.  Soon I felt a tackle behind me and I went forward down a steep, rocky drop.  It felt like eternity that I was rolling over jagged rocks or hard solid earth until I landed hard on my back.  I groaned as I tried to sit myself up.
“Yes! We’ve got her!” Freddie hissed from above as they all came sliding down the hill towards me.  Brian took the first leap with his sword held high, ready to strike me down. As quick as I could I got up and ran just as he came down and struck his sword downward.  Roger, Seraffel and Thor taking the chase. “You can’t hide from us! Where you go, we go!”
I felt Thor tackle me from behind, taking me straight down into the dirt.  I quickly turned and grabbed the spear and pushed it deeper into him which made him scream and recoil inward in pain.  I hated to see my baby boy hurt like that but I had no choice but to keep running.
But soon I was trapped by a closed off gorge.  Nothing but rocks and boulders blocked my only way out. I turned to see everyone of my family getting closer, Roger and Seraffel’s roars, Freddie’s hissing sent chills up my spine.
Without any other choice, I proceeded to climb up.  I climbed and climbed and climbed, I would even send a trail of rocks down towards them to try and deter them away. It only worked for a second till they would just wait at the bottom, almost as if they were wanting me to fall.
Exhausted, dizzy, and dehydrated I still tried my best to climb up the gorge.  It seemed like every second I would find myself slipping, almost about to fall god knows how many feet to the dangerous animals down below.  After an eternity, I was now dangling from the last few inches of finally being free, but a figure stood in my way between freedom and death.
The figure removed their black hood and I saw John standing above me.  His face expressionless as he stared down at me.
“John!” I pleaded.  I felt myself slipping from the edge. “My love, help me!” my feet kicking the side trying to stay up, rocks slipping down from underneath me.  John continued to look down at me expressionlessly, almost like he didn’t even care whether or not I died.
From his robes he took out his grandfather’s wand and said the two most dangerous, horrifying word I’d never thought I’d hear him say to me.
“Avada Kedavra.” The wand flashed green and I felt the spell hit me.  I felt every muscle and vein in my body slowly shut down as John crouched down in front of me and whispered, “The last of the Black family finally extinguished.”
My grip soon faltered and I felt myself falling to my death. I was frozen, the last thing I saw was my beloved John Deacon with the very wand he never wanted to inherit, and his eyes turning the same color as his grandfather’s.  One brown while the other a ghostly white.
*3rd Person POV*
Down below a flash of a figure came running across the forest. It leaped up the gorge before grabbed Serafina before she could impact hard onto one of the many rocks which would soon cause an avalanche of boulders, surely killing her that way.
He leaped from rock to rock till he reached the top of the gorge, looking down at the young witch who was now paralyzed by the magic of the forest.  He set her down and placed two fingers on her neck, checking to see if she still had a pulse. She did but it was faint.
He soon picked her up before racing off deeper into the forest. His body only a flashing blur with how fast he was moving.
*Serafina’s POV*
Darkness.  That’s all I remember.  Being in nothing but pure darkness.  It was also cold, and I felt scared……scratch that terrified.  But then out of nowhere I felt this—warmth.  Surrounding me and a voice that I—I couldn’t recognize or put my money on but it felt—familiar to me.
I don’t know how long it took but finally I was able to open my eyes and the first thing I saw was some light from candles surrounding me. As my eyes tried to focus, I saw some flowers being placed beside me and a voice said.
“Well, look whose coming back to sanity.” It was true.  I felt more aware of my surroundings.  The magic that once had been weighing me down had finally been lifted off of me.  I was no longer drowning in darkness or fear.  And that voice—I looked to the foot of my bed and the figure was lit by the candle’s glow.
A devilishly handsome man with short, combed over sandy blonde hair.  His piercing light blue eyes stared right at me as he did a cross between a light smirk and a genuine smile.  A light beard crowned across his face, making his appearance seem even more handsomer than if he were clean shaven.  He wore a fine suit with the jacket fully open and a couple of buttons from his white shirt unbuttoned, exposing a part of his chest.
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And he was lounging, I mean really lounging on his seat with one foot crossed over his leg.  His right hand decorated with a couple of rings similar to John’s and over his left hand was the Ouroboros tattoo (the snake eating its own tail).
I adjusted myself as I felt myself lying on probably the softest bed I had ever been on in my entire life.  The smell of azaleas lingered in the air as well as the smell of a light lavender incense.
“Lucifer.”
“In the flesh and at your service my lady.” He said with a bow of his head, his hand going over his heart.  I looked around and asked him.
“How long—how long was I in that forest?” at that his face grew solemn as he leaned down to take my hand and he said gravely.
“3 years.” Hearing that made my heart stop.  My eyes grew wide in fear as I whispered in shock.
“What?” his solemn face stuck there for awhile till he grinned and chuckled, his shoulders shaking with his laughter.  At that I rolled my eyes and took my hand back.
“Fuck you.”
“Oh so now you finally cave in on my offer. I must say Serafina you sure do keep a Devil waiting. It’s been on the table for what? 600 years?”
“700 actually. Belfast 1226.”
“Ahh yes. Back when I had black hair and had a different face.”
“At least back then you were a Brit. Now what you’ve gone American now?”
“Most of my clients have been America, plus have you been to Los Angeles? The Devil’s City I love it!” always the prideful one. Along with greedy and lustful.  No wonder where Roger gets some of his sins from, he and Lucifer are practically cut from the same cloth (literally. Lucifer is like 50% responsible for the creation of Nokkens. Poseidon’s blood and Lucifer’s sins, that’s what created the sirens, nokks, kelpies, and merfolk).
My thoughts went back to the Forest of Madness.  The magic that was surrounding it, Freddie said my magic was even more powerful that John’s yet it easily corrupted me.
“That magic……over the woods.” Lucifer’s teasing face turned back to solemn as he leaned back in his chair, but his eyes were focused right on me. “What was that? I’ve…..I was—sickening yet……heartbreaking.”
“If you didn’t have the support system you have today, yours and his magic would be cut from the same cloth.”
“Archimedes?” he nodded softly.  I sighed heavily and continued, “Well……if you hadn’t shown up my mind would be just as twisted as my mother-in-law’s so……thank you.”
“Sorry what was that? I-I didn’t quite catch that last bit.” Lucifer teased as he leaned in closer putting his hand to the side of his ear. I shook my head and rolled my eyes but took his hand that had the Ouroboros tattoo and said as I looked him dead in the eye.
“Thank you. Lucifer Morningstar.” He smiled genuinely.
“You’re welcome.” He then cleared his throat as he once again lounged in his chair saying, “Besides; now this just means you owe me a favor.”
“You saved my life just so I could owe you a favor?”
“Well that and along with seeing that beautiful face of yours without that persistent husband and overprotective dragon sons of yours lingering over me.” His face then went sympathetic as he continued, “Oh sorry I……”
“Actually, we found them. My sons.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They were alive all this time. Sealed within that bloody urn John’s family tricked me to use.” I snarled the last part lowly as I sat myself up.
“You don’t say. So those boys of yours managed to stay sealed away at the hands of your in-laws?”
“That’s in the past now. All I care about is the fact that they’re alive and they’re back with John and I.”
“So why aren’t you with them now? In fact just what in the hell have you gotten yourselves into? Last I heard was that a wyvern came to attack you guys.”
“Well that part is true. But that’s when the boys came in and killed the wyvern along with Freddie.” At the mention of Freddie’s name I saw the corner of Lucifer’s lips curve into a smirk.
“That old son of a bitch always does like to show off his fighting skills, especially when it comes to the dragon species.”
“Stop it! I know what kind of fetish you’re thinking about so knock it off! He hasn’t once thought about you since the last time we met.” I warned him.
“Aww I’m hurt. Cause he’s all I think about.” He teased.
“Please Lucifer, you still believe that I’ll join in a threesome with you and Maz. And Maz wouldn’t touch you to stab you.” As I tried to stand up, Lucifer reached out to help me but I held my hand out telling him I didn’t need help.  After getting my bearings together, I slowly stood up.
Slightly wobbling but soon I found my footing.  I took a couple steps forward.
“In all seriousness Lucifer, how long was I in those woods? Clearly it hasn’t been a day if my legs are this wobbly.”
“2 weeks. And you were out for almost another whole week. Took almost every spell I knew to even get your mind back to sanity.” So it’s been 3 weeks since I last seen the others.  “Now you didn’t answer my question; why are you here? I’ve never seen you this far from John’s side for as long as I’ve known you. And the only reason for that is if—”
“Yes Lucifer. It’s time.” I told him.  His eyes narrowed.
“So, the human savior Fred spoke of has finally came into the picture.”
“Yes. And I also know the truth. The real truth about the fall of the 3 apprentices. Balthazar came to me in his true form and told me about Archimedes. I can only assume that since you’re here, you know where he is.”
“I might.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
“Don’t screw with me Lucifer!” he just looked at me. “I know about the Guardian of Creatures. About Wanda Arya Black.” His eyes widened for a brief second.  “You knew her too?”
“Not personally but Roger is very descriptive. When I first met you, I had to do a double take because you were exactly how he described Wanda to be. But I guess reincarnation can exist among the wizarding community.”
“Lucifer I need to find him. A Guardian of Creatures must ascend. I need to train under him.” He sighed deeply.
“He already knows you’re here. Now whether or not he knows what your purpose for being here is, I don’t know.”
“Can you take me to him?” he stood up from his chair.  He spoke not a word but walked out of the room. Without question I followed in his footsteps till we came out of house.
I noticed that is was at the peak hour of dawn where night was just about over but the sun had not yet risen.  We walked through the forest trail, I noticed that this part of the forest wasn’t coated with that spell that surrounded the rest of the forest, probably making this section the ‘Eye of the Forest of Madness’.  Like the eye of the storm where everything is calm and quiet before the second wave hits.
“Follow the trail North to where the Phoenix rises in the sky. There, you will find the Sorcerer you seek.” Lucifer told me as he pointed outward.
“But what if I get lost again? Lose the path and be driven mad again?” he turned towards me and walked up to me.  His hand came to the back of my head and in a flash his lips crashed onto mine.  My eyes widened and I pushed him off of me. “What the fuck Lucifer!?”
“You’ve now been given a protection spell from the Devil himself. No spell, not even by the great Sorcerer Supreme, can even touch you so long as you bare my seal.”
“You couldn’t have at least given me a pendant? Or spoke it verbally?”
“You and I could’ve had sex but I knew you’d say no to that.” I went to say something but he was right.  Damn him! “And come on don’t tell me you at least didn’t enjoy it a little bit.”
“Shut up!” I snapped at him turning my head away, and I hate to admit this but I did feel a blush coming across my cheeks.
“Yeah I see that blush Sera.” Lucifer teased with that smug cheeky grin on his face.
“I said shut up!” I snapped at him louder before taking off to where he told me to go.  The last thing I heard was his laughter ringing out.  Merlin’s beard he could be a real dick at times.
As I walked along the trail I soon came to the entrance of a cave.  Cautiously I entered in the cave and the first thing I was hit was an aura of ultimate power.
Another advantage of my telepathic powers is that I can sense the spiritual aura of another being.  The powerful the creature/being, the powerful the aura.  At times it’s overwhelming (like when I first got to see Freddie’s aura, and of course Lucifer’s) but overtime I’ve come to control of how it affects me.
This however—this was a magical aura I had never felt before. As I walked further into the cave, I noticed that there seemed to be drawings of some sorts.  I wonder if I can now…..I focused on trying to summon a light with my red aura.  But nothing came out.
“Worth a shot. Guess this whole place, even in the eye of this very forest is magic-proof.” Soon enough I saw a light at the end of the tunnel.  The sunrise was finally coming.
I raced towards it and soon I came to an extended ledge that stood over the rest of the forest.  For the first time in weeks I got to finally feel the rays of the sun hit my face and it felt like a wave of relief.  I inhaled the clean air as deeply as I could as I extended my arms out, letting the sun’s rays embrace me.
Soon my ears heard the sound of a bird.  It was unlike any muggle bird I’ve heard and it defiantly wasn’t a griffin or hippogriff.  It was like heard a song, but it sounded heartbreaking.  As the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, a figure soon emerged out of the sun itself.
It continued to let out a few more of it’s broken-hearted song-like cries as it came flying towards me, leaving a trail of fire in it’s wake.  No way it—it was a phoenix.
It now hovered above me and that power I felt just before I entered the cave, it was now stronger.  And it was coming from this phoenix.  But wait, I knew phoenix’s carried such great power but this—this wasn’t any ordinary phoenix.
It’s eyes stared directly at me and it may have been the after affect of falling under the forest’s spell, but I could swear I was hearing voices singing a song.  A choir of voices.  It was very faint and I couldn’t quite make out the words but I could hear their song.
The phoenix swooped down and landed before me. Another thing that made this phoenix—well different was that it actually came up to the height of my waist. Phoenixes are actually fairly normal sized birds, no different than the size of a falcon.
The phoenix continued to stare at me and it even took a step closer to me.  I backed my right foot away not surer what to do.  Without any weapons on hand or my powers, I was defenseless against a bird that can easily set itself on fire.  And speaking of which, the phoenix soon burst into flames, the fire shooting upward like a volcano.
I shielded myself as best as I could.  The wind and fire mixed together created such power but it was when all went quiet once more that I now stood in shocked awe.
In the place of the phoenix was the silhouette of a man in a familiar yellow wizard robe.  At his hip was a sword of Elvish made, only one blade would catch the light of the sun and make it shine like a star.  His hood was up over his face but just based off this power he was giving out; I had a hunch of just who this was.
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His hands reached for his hood and he revealed his face. The very face that has not aged since he was last seen alive by any Wizard.  Those brown eyes looked at me in disbelief, his lips slightly parted as he gawked at me.
“Archimedes.” I spoke his name.
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letterboxd · 3 years
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Natural Woman.
Filmmaking power-couple Julia Hart and Jordan Horowitz chat to Jack Moulton about exploring untouched female perspectives in genre films, a fateful viewing of Michael Mann’s Thief, the humbling magic of babies on set, and Letterboxd’s small role in their filmmaking process.
I’m Your Woman puts the gangster’s moll, a classically underwritten character, at the heart of the action. We barely meet the gangster himself in this taut, 1970s-set crime thriller from director Julia Hart and her co-writer and producer husband Jordan Horowitz. Rachel Brosnahan occupies a tense and unusual space as Jean, wife of Eddie, a no-good chap who turns up one day with a very young baby then abruptly disappears, leaving her to raise this unnamed child.
In other versions of the story, we’d follow Eddie to a guns-blazing conclusion, but this is a Hart-Horowitz jam, so we’re quickly on the run with Jean and the baby, and we stay with her. I’m Your Woman is a compelling, unsettling twist on the genre. “What impressed me most … was how well it keeps its cards close to the vest,” writes Mikey on Letterboxd. It’s also an empathetic portrayal of new-motherhood in all its exhausting confusion, where getting a baby clean, fed and sleeping is as much a priority as finding the next safe house. “Despite valuing tension quite highly, Julia Hart still has the wherewithal to let it sit in its more tender and thoughtful moments,” writes Paul. “The ending really sneaks up on you in terms of the specific feeling it elicits.”
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Marsha Stephanie Blake and Rachel Brosnahan in ‘I’m Your Woman’.
Hart and Horowitz have children, aged two and six, who have grown up around film sets. Before becoming a filmmaker, Hart spent her days with other people’s kids as a teacher; her 2016 debut, Miss Stevens, stars Lily Rabe as a high-school educator, but her follow-up films have been wider-ranging, from Fast Color to this year’s Stargirl. Hart credits this genre-jumping to her absolute love of movies. “I don’t have a favorite genre. I love musicals, Westerns, crime dramas, coming-of-age movies, superhero movies. It was so fun getting to learn about how to create musical numbers in Stargirl and how to direct a car chase in I’m Your Woman.”
Horowitz, meanwhile, is known for producing The Kids Are All Right and La La Land. Yes, he’s the “Guys, guys, I’m sorry, no, there’s a mistake” guy. Horowitz is also a Letterboxd member, and a hunt back through his diary reveals the date he first watched Moonlight, along with his wholesome reviews of Julia’s films. “I always tried to remember to log my movies in so many different ways,” Horowitz explains, “and then once Letterboxd came out it was a very easy solution.”
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Jordan Horowitz corrects that famous Oscar mix-up.
Horowitz keeps diligent lists of references for his upcoming films, years before they’re even announced. It’s here that the roots of I’m Your Woman are found, if you’re looking closely: a fateful viewing of Michael Mann’s Thief nearly seven years ago was the primary influence on I’m Your Woman, “especially Tuesday Weld’s character, and the moment where she is basically asked to leave the movie before James Caan burns everything to the ground,” he tells me. “Our hope with this movie was to follow some of the women in those movies that don’t necessarily get the spotlight and shift the gaze of the camera to follow this car as it drives away with her in it, instead of staying with the criminal of this movie.”
Hart picks up the thread, naming Diane Keaton in The Godfather, Ali MacGraw in The Getaway, Theresa Russell in Straight Time. “Those were interesting characters played by incredible actresses but they only have a handful of scenes so I loved the idea of exploring a woman in that world and time but telling the story through her perspective.”
Horowitz defines master filmmakers Sidney Lumet, Martin Ritt and Jonathan Demme as Hart’s “spirit animals”, for their humanist takes in multiple genres. A particular recommendation of a Lumet classic from an Amazon executive changed the way they looked at their writing. “Running on Empty has this great scene where they all sing [James Taylor’s] ‘Fire and Rain’ together. Originally in our script, the ‘Natural Woman’ scene was just [Jean] singing. After watching that movie it inspired us to consider what if the Cal character joins in with her? What happens to the moment if it becomes a bit more of a community moment?”
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Bill Heck in ‘I’m Your Woman’.
When talking about their writing process, Horowitz admits that he always has his producer hat handy: “I’m never thinking about writing for the sake of writing. I’m always keeping how we make this thing in mind. Do we have too many extras? Is this location gettable? That can help me when we get into production because I’ve already considered some of those things, but I do wish sometimes that I could just sit down as Julia does and just write.” Once the duo makes it into production, Horowitz admits “[I] definitely put writer mode behind me, to the point where we’ll be on set and someone will ask me something about the script and I’ll be like ‘I don’t know, ask Julia’ and they’ll say ‘didn’t you write it too?!’”
However, Horowitz credits Hart as the “idea generator” of the two. The premise to have Jean struggling to connect with her adoptive baby was always part of the conception of the character, largely based on conversations Hart had with mothers, pre-lockdown. “It sometimes feels like Hollywood sees mothers as a monolith where there isn’t much nuance and subtlety, especially when it comes to negative feelings about motherhood, so they’re often shamed into not talking about them,” Julia laments. “It was really important for me to explore a side of motherhood that isn’t talked about as much and make sure that mothers know that they are seen and heard.”
The decision to have a baby (performed by brothers Justin and Jameson Charles) in almost every scene was a big risk, and not one Hart took lightly. “Movie people can think what they’re doing is very important, but there’s nothing more humbling than when you’re on a whole set with hundreds of people [and] you’re waiting for a baby’s dirty diaper to be changed. It made everything feel so real and immediate, so everyone on set really had to live in the moment and adapt. You prepare, and prepare, and prepare, but you have to throw out so much if the baby is sleeping instead of crying, or crying instead of smiling. I think it’s important to portray babies as real people, because as a society we often forget that.”
Lead actress Rachel Brosnahan came on as a producer many years after the script was already in Hart and Horowitz’s heads, but Hart explains that Brosnahan brought a history and interior life, “more in the wordless moments of acting than in dialogue itself.” Along the way, Jean meets Cal and Teri, who guide her to refuge. They’re the heart of the film, and Hart elaborates on their importance to the narrative: “they have been through the hell that Jean is currently going through and her circumstances force them to go through it again, but this time they have honesty, truth and love on their side. In watching Teri and Cal, Jean starts to understand what real love, family and support are.”
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Rachel Brosnahan with director and co-writer Julia Hart.
When you examine Hart’s filmography, it’s impressive how productive she’s been in such a short time, releasing four films within five years, with those pre-schoolers under foot. Horowitz makes a comparison to a prolific filmmaker like Steven Soderbergh, who advises to “fail as fast as you can”. Horowitz acknowledges that “I don’t think we set out like, ‘we’re gonna have two children and we’re gonna make four films in five years.’ If we knew that we were gonna do that we would’ve said, ‘wow, that’s a little bit insane, maybe we shouldn’t do that!’” But they did, and the film world is richer for it.
We always like to ask about the film that made filmmakers want to become filmmakers, and Hart lands on All That Jazz. “I’ve always been a fan of Bob Fosse since his [early] work. How he turned moving your body in a way that people haven’t really moved their bodies before into an empire is very inspiring. [Roy Scheider] is also my favorite actor, which doesn’t hurt. He’s so good.” Horowitz, meanwhile, is a huge fan of Back to the Future. “That was the movie when I was a kid that just opened my eyes to the power of movies, to make you obsess and dream about what other movies could be.”
“I remember going with my parents to see Back to the Future Part II on the Friday night it opened and when we got there it was sold out. We saw some other movie, but I was so upset so all I was thinking about was Back to the Future Part II. As we were leaving the movie theater, I saw through the back little window of the screen where Back to the Future Part II was playing and watched the end scene where Marty is standing in the rain and someone comes and gives him a letter. I did not sleep the entire night. That feeling of anticipation and imagination defines the way I like to look at movies and the way they can make me feel.” A subsequent look at Horowitz’s Letterboxd diary reveals that this conversation perhaps inspired him to take a trip back in time the following day.
Related content
Jordan Horowitz’s list of research for I’m Your Woman
She did THAT!��A list of women who kill
Mothers, Mommy Issues, Moms, Matriarch, Grandmothers
Letterboxd’s Top 200 Crime Films
Disillusionment in Sun-drenched 1970s American New Wave Cinema
Follow Jack on Letterboxd
‘I’m your Woman’ is on Amazon Prime Video now.
13 notes · View notes
coppicefics · 3 years
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Masked Omens: Week Seven, Part One
[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.
Image 2 - A page from the Entertainment section of the Capital Herald, dated 6th February 2021. Full image description and transcript below the cut. End ID.]
Read the fic here! All news stories and events are entirely fictional; real names of people (with the exception of image attributions) and places are used only for context. No affiliation is implied, and no disrespect is intended by the use of their names in this work of fiction.
[EDIT: With thanks to HolRose/@hasturswig for spotting that I had overlooked the sad passing of John Noakes, who originally appeared on this page!]
The Capital Herald - Saturday, 6th February 2021 Entertainment, page 15
Top left: Grasswater redo rumoured Will anybody tackle the ‘cursed’ adaptation? [Image Description: The ‘w’ in ‘Grasswater, ‘h’ in ‘the’, and ‘o’ in ‘adaptation’ in the above headline have been circled in pencil. End ID.] It's been nearly a decade and a half since the critically-acclaimed adaptation of Sir Thomas Parsett's The Grasswater Affair flopped into cinemas, and rumours are once again circulating about a possible reboot. The first attempt at transferring Parsett's magnum opus to the big screen was released in 2009 after a series of setbacks to the production process. Among the calamities that befell the set were a fire in the wardrobe department, an overdose requiring producers to recast the lead role of Fabian, and a bout of food poisoning that halted filming for over a week. There were whispers, among the more superstitious, that the film was cursed. By the time The Grasswater Affair was finally released, the delay had whipped the original book's fans into a frenzy of anticipation, and excitement over the forthcoming film actually pushed the 19th-century novel into the bestseller lists for the first time in the weeks before the release. Early reviews were promising, and the good press only fed the hype machine. But the crowds that packed into cinemas to watch it emerged disappointed; while the reasons they gave for their disappointment varied wildly, everybody from casual viewers to die-hard book lovers seemed to find it lacking in some aspect or another. It deviated too far from the source text, while adhering precisely to the minor details that didn't matter; it featured a young actor fresh out of drama school, rather than the promised household name; it lingered too long on shots of the actresses' bosoms, and the key object that proved key to the plot was left entirely out of focus in the background of a crucial early scene. While, naturally, some audience members enjoyed it in its own right, it never became either a blockbuster hit or a cult classic, and it still boasts a lowly 2.9 stars on the Internet Movie Database (IMDb) and 24% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes. This being the case, it might be hard to understand why rumours continue to circulate about a revival of The Grasswater Affair, or what might make this time different from the many, many other occasions when such a story has surfaced on the internet. The first question is easily answered by a look at the thriving community of Parsett fans who adore the original novel – and, indeed, the rest of the series The Grasswater Affair is part of. Following first Fabian, and then various other heroes, through a sort of alternative 19th century underpinned by magic and other fantasy tropes, it's been hailed as a masterpiece – and it's aged surprisingly well despite the shift in society's views and tolerances since its publication. The first novel sees Fabian locked in a battle of wits with his somewhat older rival, Rafferty, as they seek to make their fortunes in a society rife with danger and – worse – scandal. As for the second question, the recent rumours have an extra ring of truth to them thanks to the attachment of an actual name – writer-turned-showrunner Noel Garmin is said to be in talks about the project. Having adapted several of his own books for the small screen, could he now be turning his famed respect for written source material to a film or series based on Parsett's masterpiece? If he does, book fans can expect to be very pleased with the result. Garmin was asked about his upcoming projects at a recent convention panel, and his answer, while enigmatic, seemed promising.“Well, I've got to write some books, at some point! But I do also want to work on some more TV, it's a fascinating way of telling a story and it's still quite new and exciting for me. Perhaps I could tell one of my favourite stories, one that I didn't originally write. I'm actually talking to some people... We'll have to see. Hopefully I'll have news for you soon.” Hopefully you will, Noel. Hopefully you will. CITRON DEUX-CHEVAL Top right: Summer’s operatic offerings Last of Glyndebourne festival announcements [Image Description: The apostrophe and ‘s’ of ‘summer’s’ and the ‘t’ of ‘operatic’ in the above headline are circled in pencil. Below the headline is a short, wide picture of a theatre auditorium with red curtains. Small text over the bottom of the picture reads ‘Photo: Gabriel Varaljay | Unsplash’. End ID.] Opera fans are in for a treat this summer, as Puccini's Turandot returns to Glyndebourne Opera House. The venue in Lewes is renowned as the home of great opera, and Turandot is a favourite no matter where it's performed, so this combination of the two is a perfect match. Throw in popular young tenor Jeremy Wensleydale – most recently seen on ITV's The Masked Singer - performing the role of Calaf, and it's a performance guaranteed to impress. The play follows Calaf as he sets out to win the hand of the titular princess. Each suitor is asked three riddles, and failure means instant death. But answering three riddles is not enough to win the heart of Princess Turandot, and Calaf strikes a desperate bargain; if she can guess his true name by daybreak, she may put him to death regardless. If she fails, the marriage goes ahead. It's an interesting method of courting, to be sure, but the opera has enchanted and delighted audiences for many years now. And, if nothing else, who can resist an opportunity to hear 'Nessun Dorma' live? Glyndebourne members can book tickets now for dates between 25th May and 22nd June; remaining tickets will be available from the 18th of April. Turandot is the latest title to be announced by the opera house and completes their summer season's line-up. There will also be performances of Cosi Fan Tutte, Tristan and Isolde, Il Turco in Italia, and an array of concerts and other events. The Glyndebourne Summer Festival is always a highlight of the arts scene in the middle of the year, but there are events all year round. Currently, the opera house is a stopping-point for a touring production of Romeo & Juliet, which has already passed through the Chichester Festival Theatre and will then go on to Colchester, Ipswich, Cambridge, Sheffield, Manchester and Leeds. The show is a daring new interpretation of the age-old Shakespearean tragedy, fusing music and dance with the familiar story, and a full review will appear in the Capital Herald on Thursday. From the middle of February, Romeo & Juliet will be replaced at Glyndebourne with a more traditional #approach to La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The music of La Traviata may be familiar, even to audiences unfamiliar with the story, as it was rather liberally plundered for inspiration by Donato Lovreglio in 1865. Of course, that does assume a familiarity with Lovreglio - but if you find yourself humming along during your first attendance, that might very well be why. Incidentally, for more opera and classical music trivia, you might find my recent book, Inside Opera, worth a read - especially if you need to brush up on your cultured conversation points before you visit the opera house this summer. EDWARD BIGGS Inside Opera, by Edward Biggs, is published by Byker Press and is available now in all good bookshops. #Hardback RRP £9.99/€11.99.
Centre left: Capital Herald scoops NMA Star-studded ceremony honours news greats [Image Description: The ‘H’ of ‘Herald’, ‘A’ of ‘NMA’, and ‘t’ of ‘star’ in the above headline are circled in pencil.] The 2021 News Media Award ceremony took place on Thursday evening at a glamorous event held in the Mayfair Room at the Connaught Hotel, Mayfair. While many of the attendees are more used to operating the cameras than parading in front of them, they rose to the occasion with great aplomb, rubbing shoulders on the red carpet with some of the most famous entertainers in the UK who'd come to add their own special touches to the ceremony. It will come as no surprise to learn that Trevor McDonald, Natasha Kaplinsky, and Naga Munchetty were in attendance, as were Tom Bradby and Dan Walker. But the attendee who really got heads turning was Carmine Zugiber, notorious for attending very few events on UK soil. Although she's normally out in the field, she's been based in London for the last couple of months, covering the political beat for News World Weekly in Uriel Scrolle's absence, and it seems she couldn't resist the opportunity to collect her awards for Best Combat Coverage and Outstanding Field Reporting in person. Wearing a glamorous Ligur gown in striking red to match her hair, she paused on the red carpet to exchange words with some of those less fortunate reporters covering the event. “I don't know what to do with myself, with nobody shooting at me!” Zugiber joked. “Where's my bulletproof jacket?” The ceremony featured a performance of 'Messy (If I Want To Be)' by rapper P-White, who also presented an award for Entertainment Columnist of the Year to the Capital Herald's very own Citron Deux-Cheval. Another of the Capital Herald's staff writers, Edward Biggs, was nominated in the category of News-Adjacent Achievement for his 2020 trivia book, That Guy From That Thing. While the award, presented by Dame Angela Crowley, eventually went to News World Weekly's Donald Eath for High Score: A Study in Arcade Machines, Edward did get a chance to meet Dame Angela and exchange a few words. “She said I shouldn't feel discouraged, as she didn't win anything at her first awards ceremony either – and she wished me every success with my new book, which has just come out,” said Biggs of the star. “Hopefully, next year, I'll be bringing home a trophy too.” At the end of the night, as the winners and losers drifted home, the presses were already roaring into action to print the morning's papers. The news never stops; there was precious little time for the winners to enjoy the warm glow of appreciation, and no time at all for the less successful nominees to lament their losses. But at the end of the day, the whole industry could sleep safe in the knowledge that the work we do is valuable, and valued. MARY HODGES
Bottom left: Blue Peter garden party ‘22 Celebrating 10 years in show’s new location [Image description: The ‘B’ and ‘e’ of ‘Blue’ and the ‘h’ of ‘show’ in the above headline are circled in pencil. End ID.] The BBC has announced that it will be holding a party for former Blue Peter presenters, guests, and viewers in 2022. Held in the Blue Peter garden in Salford to celebrate ten years since it was relocated from London, the party is expected to provide an opportunity for Blue Peter presenters, past and present, to mingle and let their hair down, as well as catching up with some of the guests who've appeared on the show over the years. Former presenters such as Adam Young, Katy Hill, Radzi Chinyanganya, Anthea Turner, Gethin Jones, Pat Maputi, Yvette Fielding and Konnie Huq can expect an invite, of course, as can the current team of Lindsey Russell, Richie Driss, Mwaka Mudenda, and Adam Beales. But the former guests are an even more varied bunch; everyone from Idina Menzel and Sir Chris Hoy to McFly and Tim Peake could be invited, to say nothing of the hundreds of farmers, bakers, teachers, parents, and kids who've taken part in the show. While the party is quite a long way off yet, the BBC are already hard at work figuring out a lottery system that will allow them to give every viewer an equal chance to be invited to the party. Register your interest now on the Blue Peter website to make sure you don't miss out. SARAH JEUNE Ad, bottom right: [Image Description: A black background with a dark-grey crown resting on it. There are smudges of a lighter colour on the background. Above the crown, graffiti-style text reads ‘P-White’. Below it, written as if in chalk, are the words ‘Chalkdust tour’, underlined as if in chalk. Beneath it, a red bar reading ‘New dates added’ covers the words ‘Sold out’. Below that is the web address ‘www.chalkdust-tour.com’. Tiny writing in the bottom right hand corner reads ‘Photo: Zach Angelo for ProChurchMedia | Unsplash’. End ID.]
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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years
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Home isn't a place, it's you // Arthur Fleck x Reader // angst turns to fluff.
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Summary: Arthur makes a huge self-depreciating comment to you when you’ve both had a bad day and things escalate. He hides out in his bedroom to calm down, to deal with everything alone, and you have to try and get through to him. Can you do it?
Word count: 1, 994.
Arthur Fleck/Joker:  @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @mapreza1 @insomniabird @mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx
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You had thought that you had seen Arthur in every possible mood. Happy, sad, totally defeated, determined, upset, loved up… you had never seen him angry before. Annoyed, definitely. Frustrated, pissed off, yes and yes. But angry? No. You hadn’t thought your sweet Arthur was capable of such an emotion, least of all towards you. It was your fault, you supposed. He had had a bad day and you had had a bad day and you both needed something from the other that just wasn’t possible in your current moods; which came together in the tense, smoky room and made it seem as though electrical currents were rubbing through every available surface and going straight through your bodies. 
You fed off each other’s upset and discomfort, and the result had been Arthur gripping his raven locks in his thin fingers out of disbelief, his eyes wild as he looked at you. There was no love in his eyes as he looked at you in that moment. That realisation had cut you deeper than anything. He only felt negativity towards you as you raised your voices to each other in what was, admittedly, a very silly moment. Both of you just wanted to relax but here you were, starting to yell at each other. What a pair you made. 
You sighed deeply, turned your back to Arthur so you could just close your eyes and count to ten, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger. This was ridiculous. One, two, three, four... five  - you bit back a sudden wave of anger, focusing even harder on just calming down - six seven eight nine and - “Would you please just let me comfort you? You don’t have to do things alone all the time, Arthur!”
“I don’t want you to comfort me,” Arthur bit out his words, his anger finally exploding, changing and morphing into something all the more terrifying. “Oh, come on, I’m a comedian, Y/N!” You looked confused as he continued, not knowing what he was trying to say to you, and that made Arthur even angrier than he already was. He was positively livid, though now you understood that the anger was towards himself. “My life is the biggest joke of anything I could ever come up with!” 
Your stomach dropped and there was a horrible wrenching in your gut. You spoke before you were able to check your temper, so outraged were you by his audacity. “How fucking dare you speak about the man I love like that? Take it back.”
“No.” Arthur sounded like a petulant child who was aware that he had done something wrong, but he was being stubborn. The comment had been a little harsh, he supposed, but all he had were negative thoughts. How else was he supposed to feel? Couldn’t he talk to anyone now without there being a problem? He felt sick. He had to leave. His body ached and he just wanted to lay down with you and go to sleep. But instead, he had spoken without thinking and now you were going to leave him, too. Stupid, stupid, stupid -
“Take it back, Arthur. Now.” The callous way he referred to his own life and all that he was made you angrier than you could ever remember being. Tears, hot and salty, were pouring down your flushed cheeks. Neither of you could look at the other. Arthur’s words had done some real damage because you knew he thought it to be true. Seeing the resignation on your face and being unable to deal with your tears, Arthur emitted a painful groan which was immediately followed with the beginning hiccups of a horrific laughing fit. Without another word, Arthur buried his face in his arms, which he hurriedly crossed over his shoulders and sequestered himself away in the bedroom.
You stood there for some time simply staring at the place he had previously occupied and sat down to watch television, not caring what was on. You ended up pacing the living room floor. The carpet was already aged and far beyond needing to be replaced, so a few more holes in the worn material from your pent up energy and worry wouldn’t be noticed.
Minutes passed in tense silence, marked only by the breaking of your tried and tired heart. 
Half an hour. Time crawled passed without Arthur beside you.
An hour marked the end of your patience.
This was so stupid. You were both fully grown adults so why were you acting like children? Communication was imperative with Arthur, it always had been, so why were you enabling his bad behaviour? You were separated by far more than just paper thin, mouldy walls. There was a huge emotional rift with no real solution other than time and some vastly needed tender loving care. You hated it when this happened. You knew that Arthur hated it. But he couldn’t help himself.  You knew how damaged Arthur was, you had always known, and that had partly been why you had befriended him in the first place. That wasn’t, however, why you were with him. No... You were with him because from the urge to help had grown friendship and love. It had been a small seed planted in your mind from the very first time that Arthur had smiled at you, and you had watered and nurtured the seed until it had blossomed. You wanted to help him, to love him. You wouldn’t accept this any longer. He was going to let you help him, whether he wanted you to or not.
Laughter. It bounced off the walls and penetrated your inner ears. There was no hiding from this. You approached the bedroom door. Knocked. No answer. Your heart bled. You knocked again. Opened the door. Arthur was sat on the edge of the bed, his hand clasped to his throat. His face was bright red, veins popping in his forehead and neck as he struggled to breathe. He gagged on his laughter and it prompted you to act. Would your heart only get to break today?
You walked over to him, took his other hand in yours and squeezed. You weren’t angry anymore. Your bad day had faded into nothing, so insignificant was it compared to what was before you. “Ssh, ssh, I’ve got you.” You bent your head to press a kiss to Arthur’s forehead, “Just breathe, darling.”
His eyes, full of so much pain, flew to yours, and with a sudden show of strength did he grip your hand, his fingers shakily interlocking with yours. His laughter had stopped at your reassuring touch but Arthur was still hiccuping as he fought to get his breath back. Everything with Arthur was a fight today, it seemed. He was ferociously battling himself and all you could do was support him from the sidelines. Oh, but all you wanted to do was curl up beside him and go to sleep. 
He opened his mouth, tried to apologise, but you shook your head at him, a gentle smile on your face. Now wasn’t the time for words. Words meant next to nothing in this situation. Arthur was a man of action. Instead of saying he loved his mother, he would go out and work as hard as he possibly could to support her. Instead of promising you things, he worked even harder, thinking you wouldn’t notice, just to deliver on the promises he made to you inside his head. It did mean that sometimes he would mentally beat himself up if he couldn’t stick to his promises, but you didn’t need to know that. Arthur didn’t need words right now. He needed you.
“Come up onto the bed.” Arthur watched you cautiously as you moved away from him and sat down against the headboard. With tears in your eyes and the harsh yellow lamps giving the room just enough illumination to be able to see each other without straining your eyes, Arthur’s heart was in his throat as he scrambled to get to you. He lacked his usual finesse and it made you giggle quietly.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Was muttered so quietly that you thought you had misheard Arthur. But the way his bottom lip was quivering slightly and the way his eyes were glued to your face waiting for the inevitable rejection told you that he had spoken. Again and again did you stay in the face of Arthur’s bad behaviour, and again and again were you able to peel back his masks, to see the true raw vulnerability underneath almost everything he said and did.
“I accept your apology, but, next time, could you just... just talk to me? Don’t shut me out, don’t shut me down, just let me help you.”
Arthur had been kneeling near you on the bed, but at your words he laid down beside you, curling his legs up so he was in the foetal position. You shifted until you were lying down and facing him. With your heads occupying the same pillow, it seemed only natural for you to lay an arm over his waist lazily, your fingers dipping under the thin and worn material of his shirt. You made a mental note to buy him some more clothes. Everything about Arthur, his personality, his surroundings, his possessions, were worn out, thin, beaten down. Gotham had taken this ray of sunshine and rejected him time and again, neglected him time and again, and before long... Before long, there would be no Arthur Fleck to come home to every night. Whether by another’s hand or his own, he would eventually give in to his negativity. He was only human, and humans are fragile creatures.This wasn’t the first occasion in which you had found yourself wondering how much time you really had with Arthur. He was a fighter, this was true, but were you enough to keep him fighting?
In response to your touch, Arthur laid a hand on your cheek, his thumb stroking your face. The look of total love and adoration that you had so missed today was back in his eyes and it made you smile, your own gaze softening. He was forgiven. He would have been forgiven even if he hadn’t apologised. There was nothing he could do that would turn you away from him. You wondered if Arthur knew the depth of devotion that you felt towards him. You’d die for him, and he would do the same for you.
“I don’t deserve you.” Almost whispering, his voice was so soft, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. There was nothing you could say to tell him otherwise. Only actions would show him the truth. Arthur lay without moving for a few seconds while his abused brain caught up with what was happening, and then the fingers still stroking your hair stilled and he gave in to your affections, kissing you with such desperate passion that the heat within the room rose quickly. You weren’t in the mood for sex, though, you just wanted to cuddle. Indeed, Arthur pulled back as he realised the same thing, and instead he rolled you over onto your back so that he could bury his face in your chest, his legs entangling with yours. This was his favourite way to cuddle. His head moved here and there, nuzzling, searching for that one noise under his ear which made the entire world still.
Your heartbeat.
It didn’t take him long to find it, and it was with a weary yet relieved sigh that Arthur allowed his eyes to close, his arms tightening around you. You held him, your fingers in his hair, and together you found the puzzle piece of the day that had been missing.
The morning would bring new challenges. In the present, however, you had each earned your rest in the arms of the one you loved most.
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