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nabrizoya · 3 years ago

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honestly would LOVE to hear your thoughts on the nikolai duology because i really only see blanket praise or blanket hate for it whereas I see a lot of wasted potential. Bardugo's actual writing was beautiful as ever for the most part, but the choice of the plot/beats feels baffling to me. I love Nina, but her parts felt so separate from the rest of the book until the very end, and even that felt off. I liked the first 2/3 of KoS enough, dealing with the monster, political tensions, 1/2

and even the cult of the starless saint was at least interesting because dealing with people trying to rewrite the narrative of their greatest enemy (who hurt these young leaders in deeply PERSONAL ways) was really compelling (making him literally come back was. a choice) but I feel like somewhere in the last third, KoS went in a wholly differeent direction, and RoW has this vibe of feeling like she definitely wrote it after reading the show scripts or even seeing some footage. idk. 2/2

I will try to be brief (1/12)

Hey anon! Thank you so much for asking this even though it took 38756588247834 years to answer this I’m so sorry !! The Nikolai duology was good—wonderful too maybe because of the myriad of themes and topics it discussed and explored, all in addition to how beloved these characters are. For me, it’s the end of KoS as it is for you, and the entirety of RoW in particular that irk me the most.

I have very little issue with KoS, and I agree with everything you’ve said. The political tensions, the sort of urgency in trying to secure a country at the cost of personal reservations, preparing for a war that seems unforgivably near the door, etc. was all thrilling. After all, it is the first installment in the duology, and it’s supposed to set the course for the upcoming books.

KoS managed to introduce the stakes and the circumstances, lay the rails for what the characters will face and what it might mean to a vast set of entities connected to the events. And it’s hardly out of sense to expect Rule of Wolves to pick up where the previous book left off and carry forward the themes and plot points introduced in the first book.

Except, RoW failed spectacularly in that aspect.

Rule of Wolves: the second book, and the supposed finale to the Grishaverse and the Nikolai duology; it fails to continue the other number of threads that KoS set up for it, effectively compromising the characters, their characterizations, the themes and other political tensions and stakes. The due importance that should be given to the heavy set of topics that get brought up in the povs are not through, nor are the small details that Leigh added to the conversations evolve into something worth talking about, which are the actual points that could have been given some more page time to explore than just making them facts or points of nostalgia for the characters.

If you take a step back and analyze the whole timeline, events, characterization, objectives of the arcs and the plot points etc. etc., all the way from Crooked Kingdom to Rule of Wolves, there’s so much that is left out and tied in, quite haphazardly, which leads me to believe that Leigh wanted to attempt writing a duology that is more plot-driven than it is character driven. And we know that Leigh writes character driven stories brilliantly, and SoC, CK and TLoT are testament to the same. Heck, even TGT has more consistency than whatever TND has.

So, objectively? Plot possibilities? Characterization? Potential? Personal goals? Addressing the very serious themes it brought up, in little or major light, but give no proper elaboration about them?

The lost potential readily compromised the characterizations of many characters, and it all amounted to their arcs being very underwhelming.

I’m dividing this into four parts and here’s the basic outline.

Writing and Plotting

The Plot, Possibilities and Potential.

Characters, Characterization, Character Potential.

Remedy (what I think would've worked better to tie this all up)

This can get very looong, so be forewarned.

I. Writing & Plotting

Now, Leigh Bardugo’s writing is exceptional, no doubt. The sentences are short and flowy, and convey the tone, psyche, environment and the setting and its effects on the pov character marvellously. It's also immersive. It’s the same in Rule of Wolves, except, a little or a lot weaker.

The two main parts of this is that one, that Leigh slightly overdid showing a lot more than telling, and two, that the RoW (and perhaps KoS too), was more plot driven than character driven, the latter of which is actually Leigh’s strength.

In Rule of Wolves, Leigh’s writing seemed very choppy and snappish. The descriptions were lacking, or maybe that’s just me wishing for more internal conflict and dilemma, and going back and forth in one's own head for a bit. It felt like she showed more than she told.

Example being how Zoya ‘snaps’, ‘drawls’, ‘scoffs’, or ‘scowls’ less, and even if that’s supposed to be show Zoya beginning to be a little less unpleasant than she usually is, the tone in those chapters was not strong enough to distinguish how and why the character was acting a certain way. Nor pinpoint an explanation on what brought that change about. (And there were many instances like this with many other characters), which resulted in the characters themselves feeling so off to me.

Leigh’s characters are important to the story. They carry tremendous weight and actively contribute to the plot. Except, by focusing a lot more on the plot, some parts of these characters’ relevance was not up to the mark. It is greatly due to how weak the plotting and pacing of the book was, tbh, more than just her writing.

Consider: Mayu Kir Kaat. She is integral to the story, but she is thrust into responsibilities, and that doesn’t give us much time to see her as a person, and then as a person with a duty, like we see with most other characters. Whatever parts of her we did see were very circumstantial and timed, which is probably the reason why not many we’re unable to appreciate Mayu as much as we should. (Maybe fandom racism also plays a part, so, well,,,).

Like, we know from Six of Crows and with The Language of Thorns, how great care went into describing the characters’ state of mind, which further heavily influenced their choices and decisions. This time though, I think she wanted it to be more plot driven, hence the whole crowded feeling of the book and general worry about oh my god too much is happening, how will all this be solved and all that.

And this, I think, greatly hampered Leigh's writing, leading to unsettling and rather unsatisfying character arcs. Not to mention that there was quite little space given for the characters to develop or let them grow in a satisfying way which touches on most of the elements and themes that get brought up with regard to their powers and potential,,, and when it was indeed brought up, it was all in vain since they were never followed through.

That's one of the biggest problems for me in RoW: Plot points brought up in KoS were not brought forward in RoW.

II. The Plot, Possibilities and Potential.

Phew. Truly buckle up because this train has too many coaches. And to discuss them all, let’s keep the starting point as Crooked Kingdom.

a) Parem

Now, by the end of Crooked Kingdom, we know some important things about the parem.

It's dangerous asf for the Grisha who have to sacrifice their will and capabilities for a short time superpower high that they didn’t even ask for

Which means they are more often than not forced to consume the drug

Shu Han is the creator of the Parem and are also creating a new kind of soldiers called Khergud (who additionally require Ruthenium, but we’ll talk abt that later)

Fjerda snatched the formula after kidnapping Bo Yul-Bayur, keeping him away in the Ice Court and in their possession, and used the Parem to further their own heedlessly heinous agenda

I think it’s easy to understand how KoS started off on the right track, considering that Kuwei Yul Bo is mentioned, the antidote and jurda is brought up and so come the political tensions alongside it (what with the impending war, the demon, the lack of funds in the coffers and security and peace for the country alongside safety for the Grisha).

The point is, parem is a character of its own. CK was its inception, and its fate was decreed along with its lifespan and its doom. Ideally, by the end of RoW, parem should have been vanquished while addressing its nature as a deadly drug, the addiction and aftermath, and the key person who will guide the plot: Kuwei Yul Bo.

Parem is a political tool that pitted countries against each other, making one another their allies or enemies. (Though parem is not the only one factor). Ravka doesn’t yet know about Kerch’s neutrality. The Shu made their move to assassinate in the end, just as Fjerda cleared the air about their goals.

Point is, parem is weapon, a new kind of warfare that keeps getting alluded to in KoS. The first book gave a glimpse of how the Shu and Fjerda are using parem, thereby exploiting, prejudicing etc. the Grisha in their countries. Khergud whose humanity is washed away with parem + ruthenium, and the Fjerdan Grisha (are targeted) drugged and exploited while be subjected to torture, training and imminent death, parametres of these outcomes being severely gendered.

Ravka too wanted to weaponize it and create a usable strain that would still give the Grisha their powers but at a minimal cost, until Nikolai’s conversation with Grigori convinces him out of it and to use only the antidote for the Grisha.

And when are the contents of this conversation brought up again?

Never.

Another aspect of parem (that the conversation also covers) is this: that what was once merzost, parem is its strange cousin. Parem parallels breaking the bounds of Grisha norms unnaturally, while merzost takes it a step further to break the bounds of nature itself, which comes with a heavy price. They're both the same with little differences. Amplifiers are in tune with this discussion, hence the conversation between Zoya and Nikolai about how, and whether or not the abomination in him, the parem, and the amplifiers are tied together. This gets brought up again in the conversation with Grigori.

Parem parallels the superpowers, something that Zoya too manages to achieve once the corruption of the amplifier business is resolved, which makes her realize how in tune with nature the Grisha must be, and how limited the Grisha powers until then had been. And why the amplifiers were a corrupted piece of magic.

Zoya was supposed to be the conduit in that sense that she reversed the Grisha norms and understood the importance and nature of small science. This is alongisde parem getting abolished or resolved in the least, be given a redressal.

Yet instead in RoW, we barely see any of Zoya’s powers, nor even her experimentation and hunger for power which would give her protection. We don't see how she begins to realize that while power was indeed protection, it was also a responsibility. Not clearly, anyway.

So like, not only is this entire discussion thrown away in Rule of Wolves, but no matters are resolved either. Parem did not reach its end like it was supposed to. Merzost with regard to parem would have been an excellent thing to address, with or without the Darkling being present, because the blight is there. But that doesn’t happen.

What happens instead? We get one chapter of Grisha getting the antidote during the face off at the start of the book, the women in Fjerda are not brought up again and instead we jump to Shu Han. Kuwei is also conveniently forgotten because hey, the Zemeni are here so it’s all sorted!

RoW could have (should have actually) sought to address both the political and medical (?) aftermath and implications. Maybe it did succeed in showing the political side of it, with regard to Mayu, Ehri, Makhi and Tamar’s storylines. But that’s only in Shu Han, whose state of affairs we had NO idea of until RoW. No idea, so much that it was completely out of the blue.

And what we did know (get to know about in KoS) is Fjerda and the affairs there remained… unsolved.

(...sorry).

b) Grisha Powers

Re: From the conversation between Nikolai and Grigori, and Juris and Zoya, about how parem and the amplifiers are parallel to each other in terms of being abominations, a corruption of Grisha powers. Now the theory of it is not entirely explained, but we do know that the parem and whatever Zoya learnt from Juris was meant to move along in the same direction.

But we don't see another mention of it, except maybe we could dig a little deeper and realize that it all adds up because Zoya is the Grisha Queen of Ravka, Summoner, Soldier, Saint, all of it rushed and unnecessarily magical in a war so dire and realistic in RoW.

Welp.

c) Spy business

Just… genuinely what even was Nina up to in RoW? A spy, sure, but only to garner information on the pretender?

Why couldn’t there have been two responsibilities for her to uncover: the lies or truths about the pretender while the Apparat causes hindrances, and Nina trying to seek out more documents of the locations and labs where the Grisha women are being tormented and the other Grisha being weaponized? It could have been a leverage to discredit Fjerda in front of everybody in the Os Kervo scene. Imagine if Nina whipped out the documents of Grisha labs and brought the truth of the exploitation and killing and kidnapping etc. in front of the convention of all nations. All of it together would have upped the political tensions by quite the notch.

Even then, there’s a possibility that it wouldn’t matter either because the Grisha aren’t exactly valuable to all the nations. But killing and exploiting is still wrong so maybe it might have worked? Or see, even if it wouldn’t have, the slow and sluggish realization of Mila’s identity by Brum, and alongside writing it as a tragedy where Nina’s efforts seem to have gone to waste, or where Nina is telling Zoya about not accounting for Prince Rasmus’ word and she informs her about the documents she has snatched? Something could have been done here?

The point is, KoS focused on Fjerda and its unraveling, and it wasn’t continued with and through in Rule of Wolves. Instead it sought to find the problem in a whole new country, Shu Han, and fixed it within the same book leaving the other country as it is.

d) Ruthenium and the Blight

Ruthenium, the metal that is an alloy of regular metal and Grisha made steel, could have been utilized more significantly in the books.

I mention it in association with the blight because while on one hand it is true that the blight is an area full of nothingness, ruthenium as a metal could have been utilized to show the effects of rushed industrialization that is leading to the ground losing its essence. This is supposed to be advanced warfare after all. Besides, Makhi loses someone very dear to her. Perhaps ruthenium is more dangerous in Shu Han because the Shu use it to create the khergud, so the constant manufacturing of it has been leading to the metal leeching the lands of their fertility, along with the blight.

And so also to broker peace, Ravka could have provided aid in some ways. :

1) The Darkling sacrificed himself, as a result of which the blight vanishes. While the blight took away her niece, the possibility of a blight persisting despite the ending of RoW could be attributed to ruthenium.

2) Ravka could provide the reversing effect to the alloy of ruthenium and metal using Grisha and otkazt’sya engineering and ingenuity to replenish the lands.

All in addition to whatever will be Shu Han’s policies to bring lushness to their lands.

e) Women and War:

Holy fucking Shit, where do I start with this?

Whatever we saw in Fjerda was haunting, and we see it from Nina’s chapters. There’s literally no resolution for it, nor is it ever brought up again, at all. In Zoya’s chapters, we see through her eyes the brunt that Grisha faced with the war, and in a country that has refused to recognize Grisha as the citizens and considers them expendable.

Add to it her own narrative of how the women are never mentioned, let alone the ones that she has lost or has known to suffer, at the hands of the war, at the Darkling's torture and powers. The description of these women suffering, often being forgotten and thrown aside as mere casualties… where or when was it ever going to be brought up again?

Like, switching between such horrifying things happening in Fjerda to whatever was happening with Zoya and Nikolai and Isaak is such a contrast, horrifyingly demeaning and insulting, even more so when it failed to align with the importance of parem and offer a solution to both these problems.

Now switch to Rule of Wolves, where the Tavgahard women immolate themselves on Queen Makhi’s orders. Not only is that such a cheap and insensitive thing to do, it gets treated a simple fucking plot point in the book, and it barely gets addressed afterwards. Women in Asia have a vastly complex and complicated history with fire, and this is a serious criticism that culturally affects readers in personal ways. And what gets done about it? Fine, Zoya feels baaaad, sorry oops why would the women do that?!?!?

Where is the adequate sensitivity to the topic? Where is the continuation of the pain Zoya feels for many people, despite them being the enemy? How does she honour them? Where is all that dilemma and pain? Why does she not think of them or just get a line or two to talk about them?

Where is the due importance for this suffering given? Structurally and culturally?

f) Soldier, Summoner, Saint / Yaromir the Great

We never really get any explanation for why Zoya deserves to be the Queen, and why she is the best. But we do get to see why Nikolai isn’t the one supposed to be on the throne, and it’s not just because of his parentage but also because of his failings and doubts and the need for acceptance with the secrets he carried.

Here's the thing though; it’s not just about her showing mercy. It’s very subtle, and in good sense, should actually have been given a little bit more importance that be loosely brought up at random times.

Keeping aside the fact that Zoya is representative of Ravka—a woman, a Grisha, a Suli girl who changed the course of war and who knew what it was like living in poverty, being as an underprivileged person of the society in addition to the trauma from then and the state of living at her aunt’s place—which is meant to be covertly apparent, the other reason tracks back to Yaromir the First, who with the help of Sankt Feliks of the Apple Boughs—the one who raised the thornwood—lead Ravka at that time into the age of peace.

The Darkling testified that in his POVs, that while Feliks and Yaromir worked in tandem for Ravka, Aleksander worked for safeguarding the Grisha. In one sense, Zoya is supposed to reflect that moment in history in the present moment, except she is Queen and Sankta, and Grisha, all three at once.

It is brought up in one of the Darkling’s POVs and once in the conversation with Yuri in KoS. Other than that, we never actually get any more hints of this explanation in the text, which is the reason why the entire ending felt so so rushed, and like a fever dream, that even if it was a plot twist, it was kinda very baseless when it should have been more ohhhhh sort of a thing.

g) The Starless Cult and Saint Worship

This cult had immense potential to blossom into many things, some of which were indeed touched upon in KoS when Zoya says that she saw a bit of herself in Yuri, and brings up time and again how easily she’d been led and had not been aware enough of what’s right and wrong, just as she supposes Yuri is too. And to some extent, there is truth there, because in the Lives of Saints, we do see why Yrui comes about to hail the Darkling and how it parallels Zoya’s, of being helpless and ten being saved by a different power/ their own power, respectively.

That’s where it forks, that Zoya is older and realizes the path that Yuri has chosen and understands that it won't happen until he realizes it himself because the Darkling’s crimes are so obvious.

Even then, there’s still more potential: This cult could have been the mirror that would make Zoya reflect on the questionable methods of the Darkling, and the ways in which she might be mirroring them, despite or not it is the necessity because of the war. How she is training soldiers too, just as the Darkling did, and while the need to take children away from their homes just as soon as they were discovered Grisha was abolished, it was war, and they needed soldiers.

So like, there’s quite a big narrative going on here, how mere children are pushed into one path of becoming a soldier and the whole system that was that the Darkling followed to train the Grisha and all of that. All of this in addition to the juxtaposition to the Grisha being seen as elite despite them being hunted, and the people who are not Grisha frowning upon them. This is also the work of the Darkling, which actually paves the way to see how there can be a world where the Grisha are not feared or seen as abnormal, despite or not they are given a Saint-like narrative.

This cult could also have been the segue to discussing Yuri and his brainwashing, and the sort of cult-ish behaviour of believing in something firm when you couldn’t believe in yourself, or not seeing the magnitude of the crimes of their supposed Saint, alongside always staying focused on becoming a soldier only and never actually thinking beyond what is told.

Some of these are very subtle and some are brought up, but never given too much of an explanation.

Genya brings up another good point in the funeral chapter, about how Fjerda seemingly taking into the whole Saints thing could mean that if the Darkling moved there, he could very well sprawl his influence there to bring in supporters. Which leads to another discussion that gets brought up towards the end of the book: about Nina telling about the Ravkan Saints to Hanne and therefore to the Fjerdans,,, which doesn’t exactly sit right with me. It’s still a very nascent topic, and I think SoC3 will explore this path of faith and personal beliefs etc. but leaving it just there, while talking so much about Saints in both the countries,,, don’t exactly know how to put it into thoughts here.

But regardless, the cult of the Starless had different potential to talk of (blind) worshipping of an ideal without critically examining why the person must be put on the pedestal in the first place (and if it is simply power, then there is actually a narrative right there, which RoW gets right, about the people valuing the power still, as a result of which the monarchy still persists at the end of RoW. Even then, there’s more discussion awaiting there).

Not sure if any of this makes sense, but I’ll leave it at this here for now.

edit: 05/07/2021 | I think what I was trying to say here is that we do not have any kind of narrative evidence to seeing how and why it seems right that the Fjerdans will worship Ravkan Saints; is it merely because they are all Grisha? Or is it because of the segue explore this path of faith and personal beliefs and all of that, of the talk of the monastery and the Grisha there being of all identities, that a monastery is in Shu Han, that it has Djel's sacred Ash tree so far away from Fjerda... much to think about.

III. Characters, Characterization, Character Potential.

Mostly going to be about Nina and Zoya, but I’ll bunch up the rest of them at the end.

a) Nina

*head in hands*

I severely mourned how poorly Zoya was written in RoW, but then I realized that more than Zoya, it’s Nina whose potential was severely undermined and wasted. On one hand, I’m glad she uses her powers and quick thinking,observation and her own tactics to analyze the population and opt for the best way to make them see the truth she wants to show them (eg: making Leoni and Adrik and Zoya saints and also showing that the Grisha are the children of Djel via people’s belief to Joran and Rasmus’s mother).

But then, it’s like you said; her parts were so offbeat and outpaced and completely disjointed, when in fact, Nina is the thread that ties all the characters, their plotlines and potential, together. Nina is connected to Zoya and Hanne, two equally important characters and main characters of the duology. Whatever scope Nina has, they are greatly in parallel to Zoya and Hanne. And it’s all literally there, in the text! What a waste.

Though keeping aside these parallels, Nina’s own journey from Ketterdam to Ravka to Fjerda, while is spoken about, doesn’t touch some other parts that I see potential in. Or this is just meta.

Nina has grief not just from Matthias’ death but also from the loss of her powers as Heartrender. So much of the Second Army was built on being a soldier, and perhaps the Darkling was not outright disdainful of racial differences in his army, yet he still stripped every part of the children away until they weren’t children anymore in his view. They’re all soldiers… (albeit his soldiers, preparing them to do his bidding because hey, give and take right?). Nina was a soldier, and she is a soldier still under Zoya’s role as a General, but an ‘other’ of a soldier. That’s her only identity, and the loss of her powers means that she’s a different kind of soldier.

I imagine that this entire time, some small part of Nina longed for normalcy, or whatever settled as normal for a life like hers. In the sense that she wants to go back, but what is back and where exactly did she want to go back to? What was the before and after and where did things go wrong or change? There’s tragedy in the realization that whatever you were before what you became is not a place you can return to, and that’s a different kind of loss that she has to bear, and all by herself. She has powers over the dead now, a strange power she learns to grow to, but all the places she has been, all the lives she has led and people she had been, everything might seem like they’ve all been locked away in some strange place leaving her barren and indisposable.

She’s off to Fjerda as someone she isn’t, figuratively and literally. In KoS, Nina brings up many times how odd she feels as Mila and in some capacity longs to be Nina Zenik again. This ties in with the previous point of returning to somewhere, but where?, but is also a segue towards body dysmorphia, the thing that Nina and Hanne’s storylines parallel and connect too with in a small way. It’s a great line to follow to discuss what her discomfort with her body means to herself while it means something entirely different to Hanne, who is also not entirely comfortable being who they are. (This discomfort further which leads to gender dysphoria, while for Nina, it will be about learning to accept her powers. I’ll add on to this in a bit,).

I'm mourning the lost potential of that experience being a parallel to Hanne’s own feelings, of a discussion between people being uncomfortable with their bodies, something that can mean multitudes to each person and on their own accord.

In parallel to Zoya, I like to draw it from the fact about Nina wanting to go back to who she was, while Zoya actively tries to lock her past away and drown it somewhere or throw it to the storm, never to hear of it again. She has no identity other than being a soldier, and that’s enough for Zoya, because who she was before she was a soldier is not pleasant. But moving from being just another expendable shell of soldier under the Darkling’s rule, Zoya becomes the one third of the Triumvirate, and then the King’s general, all of which bring self-awareness of Zoya’s capabilities and challenges that are bound to excite her. But all of these also compel Zoya to be many other people to others as she slowly grows to realize that power is not just protection but also a responsibility, and it will inadvertently mean confronting her past of her lost identity, realizing the how of the Darkling, and how harmful it was. As Genya puts it perfectly in Rule of Wolves, that they were all taken away when they were young kids, not even barely children, and then thrust into responsibilities that didn’t allow them to be anything else other than what the Darkling told them to be.

Back to Nina; a few other great parts about Nina’s arc could have been about her connection to languages, as language being a mode of strengthening identity, in addition to growing to her powers. In RoW, there’s this line that goes ‘how sweet it was to speak her language [Ravkan] again’, and the feeling of homesickness. Like, Nina is trying to connect to Ravka through what she knows best—language, and then stories. In that, Nina realizes a part of her identity, which could also act as a segue to Zoya reclaiming her own heritage and ethnicity. Not only that but Zoya and Nina’s stories are literally so intertwined that it’s hard not to see how their choices and line of thought affect one another’s arcs, in the grief they have and how they choose to treat it, and also show why Zoya is particularly protective of Nina (and keeps wishing that she doesn’t become the monster Zoya had become, in the sense that Nina is more mature in handling her grief than Zoya was and the entire mercy plotline ties Nina, Zoya and even Genya together. More meta, haH).

And that’s why the ending doesn’t make sense. Even though the part about her not being comfortable as Mila is not brought up many times in the continuing chapters (and that’s why perhaps naming Nina’s discomfort as body dysmorphia may be wrong), there’s still the part of Nina readily accepting to be who she was a Mila and remain in Fjerda that seems iffy to me. Especially when Nina and Hanne literally a few chapters ago think about running away (it may be just another alternative they might be fantasizing about, but I think it still means that they both want to be their true selves without hiding any parts of it away). So her staying as Mila… well, it doesn’t exactly add up.

I’d also add the part of Nina’s story mirroring Leoni’s, and how she is from Novyi Zem and being a part of the Second Army meant that she had little to no connection with her past, her culture etc. But maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part that Leigh went for that arc.

edit: 05/07/2021 | I don't agree with my point anymore about Nina not having the kind of ending I assumed she might have, considering that it is very well possible for Nina to treat her identity as Mila as a fresh start, as a Grisha with a command over the the dead and begin a new normal that is suited for her. You can read more here.

b) Zoya

For one, white passing Zoya is not canon to me. I simply pretend I do not see it.

See, her race was handled very badly. Making her half-Suli was supposed to show the struggles and the trauma that the ridiculing of her identity by other people has caused to her. Except, not enough time nor text is given to thoroughly discuss it. Not to forget how problematic of a narrative in itself it is to make Zoya white passing.

It would have made more sense to make her dark skinned and predominantly Suli-looking than whatever yt bs she was put through. Her not being white-passing would have led to conversations about tokenization, or people caring little about her and not giving her any respect because she is Suli. Or being called beautiful to the face and praised just for it or a harmless tumble in their point of view.

So like, instead of making the ‘mistake’ of seeking for acceptance, seeking appreciation and love, from her mother at first and then the Darkling, Zoya instead makes herself someone to be feared, if respect was not what she deserved. The iciness is a part of her and has always been, but all of it soon became a shield, an armour that she vowed to harden her heart with. Just the sheer impact of this narrative and her reluctance, and seeing Nikolai love her for beyond who she thinks she is… if all of this was canon, I’m pretty sure I’d have built a shrine for this duology.

Let’s now talk about her grief, and...

…

Okay it’s not for me to point fingers at how Leigh chose to write about grief because there’s no one way or one proper approach to go through that pain, and if that’s how she chose to write about grief for Zoya, fine! But I really wish we’d have gotten a little more into her head to see how the trauma has affected her thoughts and how she struggles against why and what exactly it is that Juris wants her to do. That enough time and text was dedicated to Zoya’s feelings and the mayhem it caused her, as a result of which the dragon’s eye took its cue and made things more unbearable to her because she was the only one to bear them all.

Like, I feel like Zoya was overwhelmed throughout the book and in between she had some skyhigh responsibilities to discharge and it’s all so inconsistent and poorly woven,,, it completely dissolved her character from KoS and made it 10000000x more miserable for me to read her POVs. And honestly, what even were her assignments that the Kirkus review mentioned? Never an inch of text in RoW is given to decipher her complications of her mind, the muddled sense of hopelessness and fear that grips her time and again. Why overwhelm her so much that you fail to do her mental state and capacity any justice?

I’m not going to be harsh about how much David’s death bothered me-- no actually fuck that; what’s the point? Fine, he died. All because you wanted to make his death a plot device to make Zoya reconcile with loss and deal with it? Where was Genya’s grief? Literally no point of having a death in the book at all, and it didn’t even achieve anything. (I’m still trying to wrap my head around why David’s death was important and maybe if I find some straws, I’ll consider…)

There were so many other ways around it; could have brought back Lada and killed her off, or have the Darkling piss her off so badly or just. Something. Instead of whatever happened with David. I think this is too harsh and insensitive of me to say about Leigh, but still… there’s a myriad of other ways to have gone about it. Helping Zoya deal with her grief with Nikolai at her side, to understand that the rage that was fueled from her loneliness, like it had been in the past, could now be a weight that Nikolai was willing to carry with her… Helping someone with their grief, staying and choosing is also a love language you know?

So in that regard, I won’t regret saying how flat the garden scene was to me. Zoya’s lines, though tinged with grief, were so out of what I would expect KoS Zoya to say. Maybe it’s also because of how bitter I was reading about David's death, despite that part being spoiled for me.

The cost shouldn’t have been David’s death, especially not when his death too wasn’t properly handled at all, and Genya’s grief was never spared a second thought beyond bringing Titanium.

Now let’s talk about how Out of Character Zoya was throughout the book. Her punchy attitude was missing, and even if she was warming up to her friends, we see little of the iciness she continues to retain. Another part of this is about exploring her relationships, particularly with Nikolai and her growing feelings for him. I wish we’d have seen them grapple with more of their confusion and propriety, if only for the yearning™. Besides, no matter how cute their scenes were, they were mostly (like maybe some. 70%) awful to read them, simply because it felt so odd to see Zoya be so open with Nikolai, all of a sudden.

A part of this definitely has to be the fact that we don’t know just how much time has passed between the end of KoS and the start of RoW, and we never, never see any description of they regarded their feelings for each other and how they understood it themselves. I don’t actually know how exactly I can put this into words in a manner that will make sense, but the only scenes where I appreciated Zoyalai were in the Ketterdam chapters, ONLY. The rest was… bleh lmao. Their scenes were so cute and brilliant, and if only we’d seen more of the internal conflict and had given some more time for them to practically approach their feelings but still end up in the puddle of it. If only.

Their scenes apart were the good ones, because that’s where we finally see Nikolai feeling the loss, no matter how temporary (on the verge of being permanent since it’s the war), of not having Zoya with him, of not being there with Zoya because who else would it be if it wasn’t her? Zoyalai had good scenes but they barely lived up to the mark lol. Their feelings are never thoroughly explored, nor their mental capacities.

While we’re talking about Zoyalai, let’s also talk about how lame it was for Zoya to say that Nikolai was the golden spirited hero all along, from the very start, when canonically we know Zoya had little to do with him in the earlier books, that she may have only been physically attracted to him and never saw him as more than just some guy with a responsibility to manage, and had sooooooo much distrust about him. And that it was only in the next few years of working with him and alongside did she grow to recognize his efforts and relish in the hope that he was building for Ravka, inadvertently making Zoya hopeful too.

Nope. Instead, we’ll just throw in some destiny bs that he was the one all along rather than show that the beauty of their relationship did not stem what they perceived of each other, but was instead built on strong respect and admiration for one another and their capabilities. 100% destroyed their relationship for me.

Some good parts about Zoya’s arc in RoW was how she acknowledged her past mistakes, and the nuance that was touched upon in seeing sense in becoming a soldier from the start, that offered her a chance to be anything other than a bride. That some part of her was grateful for the Darkling for teaching her how to fight, while still keeping Genya’s words in mind about how they were mere kids, children who had only one path to traverse because the Darkling (who wanted their acceptance and loyalty) nor the Kings of the country let the Grisha be anything else other than pawns of the war. That she recognizes her mistakes as a teen and how self centred she was, that her being snotty had at times cost some peoples’ lives too. And she doesn’t take the blame all up on herself, because it’s not hers alone to bear. Super good.

Also, the way Zoya comes to view power as responsibility instead of merely as protection was something cool to read about. It’s not clear in the books, but Zoya actively tried to not be the Darkling while still continuing to build an army for the war out of necessity, and actually sharing some parts of the dream that the Darkling had for the Grisha. I can’t articulate this so perfectly, but the point is, Zoya trying to avoid becoming a tyrant like the Darkling was an active process that she was constantly trying to change, and where Zoya could not recognize her own feelings and inherent thoughts about warfare that in some ways did mirror the Darkling’s, by the end of book, Zoya is much more self-aware and conscious of herself and her power than she was at the start of the book. And this was well done.

Now, what is up with YA and making people turn into giants or animals lol wtf. Why couldn’t we have seen Zoya use her dragon powers in a way that symbolizes the conditions of her dragon amplifier and the power of the knowledge she obtained from Juris? She is a Saint, and we’ve seen that their powers allowed them to cause ‘miracles’ and such, as we see at the start of KoS and at the end.

Why couldn’t we have seen Zoya dabble with her newfound powers and completely lose her shit in anger during the wae, only to rein back in mercy, just as someone from Fjerda begs for forgiveness since they see her then as a Saint? Adrik and Leoni used their powers in Fjerda, so having Zoya bring about a conundrum of all orders and do something about it would also have been cool, wouldn’t it? In the funeral scene we see her turn water into ice, thereby making a path for Genya. Why couldn’t we have had more exploration of the importance of the dragon’s eye and the general nausea of being overly empathetic every. damn. time? Why didn’t we get to see her powers? Why couldn’t we have seen her fail in them and realize that the reason she was not perfect was because she was trying to be strong on her own and was not relying on others and joint effort?

Her turning into a dragon was genuinely the most baffling part bc here’s a war that’s so serious and dire with metals and bombs, and then here’s this magic that will solve all of it entirely. Like I’m not saying it was bad, (I am actually saying just that) but I also don’t know what I am saying, except that the ending felt like a fever dream.

…?

Not sure if I’ve managed to convey it properly, but well. Zoya felt out of character throughout RoW, and that the only place I saw KoS Zoya was in the final Os Kervo scene where Zoya finally agrees to be the queen.

c) Nikolai

Nikolai’s arc was very satisfying and brilliant to read about in RoW. In KoS, he seemed very much like a passive character, one of the reasons why his stunt with the Shu in RoW was appreciable, no matter how ill-timed of a plot turn it was. His journey throughout this book was also introspective to see why others deemed him unfit as the King, and even if they were his enemies who thought that in want to dispose him from the throne, Nikolai realizes that him being on the throne is not of much value and that this book was entirely about him seeing his privilege and making decisions to counter and correct the mistakes he’s made. That was nice. Oh, also his father not being an antagonist was a pleasant surprise.

I don’t have many complaints about him, except perhaps wanting some more internal conflict and elaboration about his feelings for Zoya. Them being apart was where it was satisfying, and then in the Ketterdam chapters. His arc could have been better in KoS, but that’s to blame the plot for the characterization.

d) Hanne

Now, from the very start, their arc was super good and it only got better and better until… the ending. Except it’s so odd that Hanne, a poc, has to now live as white person, while feeling comfortable in their transmasc identity. Icky, no? That you need to eliminate one part of your identity in order to feel safe and comfortable about another? Add to this the whole white-passing Zoya thing,,, doesn't exactly send off the right message.

Together with Nina, the ending seems uncharacteristic for both of them. Them coming to accept their powers and knowing to use their powers on their own accord was brilliant, though the entire husband business felt very,,, eh to me, even if it did make sense. The ending about their name and their new identity was too vague.

e) Genya, Leoni and Adrik, Kuwei, Mayu,

Genya is the one who faced the most disservice along with David. While there were exceptional parts to both of their plotlines, it's still sad that even if David's death was necessary, we don't get to see the entirety of her grief and the possible anger, and that her kindness is simply used as the justification for lack of portrayal of grief.

It really did take me by surprise, mostly because I wasn't a fan of the original Shadow and Bone book, but seeing David's conscience and self-awareness, along with Genya's (and Zoya thinking of how she wouldn't let any harm come to them, which shows a bit of her development towards her character development), was plenty refreshing. David and Genya were genuinely the highlights of the book and to kill David off was just. doesn't sit right with me.

Leoni and Adrik deserved more page time. They’re saints and immensely capable (no wonder they’re now the Triumvirate), but a few more pages for them to shine would not only have been nice, but also a necessity.

And now, Kuwei...

....

I mean,,, parem should have been the plot, alongside the entire weaponry and the discussion of making a city killer. But uh… that didn’t happen.

There's not much I have to say about Mayu, Tamar and Ehri, except that their plot was superb, only very badly timed.

There's more to talk about them in the remedy tho.

IV. Remedy

Here’s the deal. Before KoS release, there should have been a Nina novella.

Nina is a very important character. All of her potential, alongside many other parts of her personality--from dealing with grief, to accustoming to her powers, to growing stronger--there could be so much to do with her as a protagonist, alongside another character: Mayu.

A whole book dedicated to Nina in Fjerda with Hanne? Brilliant. Show Stopping. Mind blowing. It gives SO much page time to explore not just Nina and Mayu, Hanne, but also Zoya, Leoni and Inej. All together.

How?

Nina’s plotline carries the entire medical effects of the use of parem, just as Mayu’s will carry the pain she feels about her brother being a part of the khergud program. The novella will give ample time to flesh them out as characters and protagonists, each dealing with plot problems and problems of their own--like the loss of ones powers and newfound responsibilities, and the shared loss of a beloved person in parallel, even if neither Nina or Mayu interact on page.

Fjerda and Shu Han could be tied together with one chapter as a POV from Zoya (or maybe two), who, along with the Triumvirate and Nikolai, are completely at loss with the political scenario in the country, and are debating over what should be the course of action. Zoya receives news from the scouts, and missives from Nina, and Tamar takes care of the information she garners from the rest of the network, including Shu Han.

Like, the entire surprise of finding a Zoya POV, from a character whom until CK we’ve known as cold hearted and stern and not giving a fuck about anything or anyone, be humanized in that one chapter, thereby building up the anticipation for her arc,,, the very potential,,, *chef's kiss*.

And by the end of book, we could have an POV--or maybe a cameo if not a POV--of Inej meeting Nina on one of her travels of slave hunting. Inej could help take care that the women that Nina has rescued (as Nina does in KoS) reach the Ravkan shorelines safely. But, for a price.

The entire parallels between Leoni and Hanne and Nina could be set up, while also building up the narrative for the Saints’ plotline with Adrik's, Leoni's and Nina’s powers (like it was at the end of KoS). KoS and RoW would thereby continue it by tackling the weaponization and the antidote, Sainthood and the rest of the politics of it all.

Coming to Shu Han: one key aspect that I’d love to have explored would be the importance of art, during or despite the war. Of how war or pain chips away culture, while detailing on the ill effects of it from the commoners' perspectives, from the soldiers etc. Art is integral to Shu Han and could be portrayed by Mayu’s pain finding balm in poetry, of seeing glimpses of Ehri poring over poetry also mayri ftw, of politics that Makhi is weaving against Ravka, etc.

Or also add some more length to Zoya’s POV and explore a bit of Tamar and Tolya and Kuwei’s interactions and perspective added to it, of missing a home that they seemed to not know, or know; of discussing culture and differences on the basis of where they’re from (maybe the twins are from the borders, while Kuwei grew up near the capital or somewhere distant from the borders etc.), all while directly pointing at Zoya’s heritage and how it ebbs at her conscience, no matter how much she wants to bury it.

POTENTIAL !!!

Like,,, Nina novella would have been too powerful. It would have been perfect. I think I’d excuse bringing back the Darkling too if this was the case. (Or maybe not).

But welp.

Hey, thanks for reading! Not sure if you could make it this far, but if you have, you honestly deserve a medal for sitting through this all. I can’t imagine how tiring it must be to read through this, considering it seemed to take it more than month to compile this there’s also me procrastinating on it too so i’,mbhbdhshfsdn

Drop an ask if you want to talk more about this!

Sincerely, thank you!!!

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homogrimoire-archive · 3 years ago

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Kingfield's Fourth Anniversary - Final Day

If I Rose To Power It'd Be A Bouquet

Dwight has the wonderful idea to propose. Needless to say, David is in for a surprise.

AO3 Link

Dwight loved David with all his heart. He really did. Sometimes, it felt like he wanted to shout it out into the world for all to hear. He wasn't the kind for such public displays though. But, he was about to do something pretty close to announcing his love to the world.

He and David had been dating for years now. Everyone who they cared about knew. And just about anybody who was at least somewhat invested in pro boxing. As a pro boxer, David had a lot of eyes on him. David wasn't bothered in the slightest. He liked the attention, and had no desire to hide who he loved.

Dwight was scared of the notion, but was swayed by David. Deep down, he didn't want to hide who he was anymore. So, it had been public knowledge that they were a couple for a few years now. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but being able to kiss and embrace and display their love to one another whenever they pleased far outweighed any negativity it brought to their lives.

Dwight never regretted a single moment of their time together. He imagined that David felt the same. Thus, with David’s boxing career nearing its glorious end, Dwight figured he knew how to start this new chapter of their lives.

Of course, Dwight wanted this monumental moment in their lives to be very special. So he spent many a month planning. He knew he wanted things to be private. To do such a thing in a crowd with spectators was pushing it for him. He was quick to figure out how he wanted to do it, but where was a different matter.

He considered spending a night out and doing it at their condo, but the location admittedly wasn’t so romantic. Renting a boat for a scenic night of sightseeing along a beautiful coast was considered, but was quickly ruled out when he remembered that he would probably get seasick. But, then it hit him! Ocean sunsets were beautiful and very romantic. So, after more deliberation, Dwight decided on California. A popular tourist destination, so it would be easy to kill time before the main event. Next was finding the time to do the exciting deed, which was easy since all Dwight needed to do was look at David’s schedule.

Convincing David into taking a little, much needed vacation was easy. A little bit of seduction went a long way. It would be a week-long affair of sight seeing and fun, culminating to a fanciful dinner on the fifth day. Dwight never really got used to having the finer things of life such as a dinner that cost a week’s check for a part time job, nor did he gain the taste for it like David said he would. Hell, he still liked to eat cup noodles warmed up in a microwave. But he’d accept the indulgence for such a night.

Since the restaurant was not too far from their hotel, they decided to walk. They could have called an uber or something, but it was a comfortable and clear night. Holding hands, Dwight leaned against David as they walked. He smelled vaguely of his cologne, a scent which eventually came to bring Dwight a sense of comfort.

Time seemed to move so wonderfully slow in such reposeful moments. Yet, it always seemed to end too quickly, for they were already in front of their hotel. And suddenly, Dwight was hit with a wave of anxious anticipation.

“Hey, uh, I’ll be up there soon. I’m gonna take a quick smoke.” Dwight said with a kiss to David’s cheek. He knew David didn’t like it when he smoked, for a number of good reasons. Admittedly, it was a guilty pleasure. But Dwight wasn’t actually gonna smoke. He just needed an excuse, even if a cigarette did sound very tempting to help calm his nerves.

“Alright, but don’t keep me waitin’, luv.” David replied, and leaned in close to Dwight’s ear and whispered something real low that made Dwight’s face flush. Well, two could play that game. Dwight pulled David down by his shirt and whispered something that made David feel rather excited, to say the least. With a reminder to not start anything without him, David made his way into the building as Dwight pulled out a box of cigarettes just for show.

After a few minutes of waiting, Dwight made his way to the receptionist’s desk to get a bouquet he had ordered and set to be delivered to the hotel. The bouquet consisted mainly of beautiful red roses, with white lilies scattered throughout. Wonderful as could be.

He took the envelope, with the letter inside he spent weeks perfecting, out of his pocket, and gently placed it in the bouquet. On the elevator ride up, he checked his pockets for what must have been the hundredth time that night for that precious box. After getting out of the elevator and reaching the end of the hall where their room was, he looked out the hall’s large window to see the beautiful beach down below as it stretched onward. It was the first time he really got a look at the beach at night. It captured him, making him decide to make a change of plans. He hurried back to the elevator and made his way back down. Once he was outside, he took out his phone.

“Hey Dwight. What is it?” David answered.

“Come outside and meet me at the beach, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

“…Really?”

“Yes, Really! You’ll love it, I promise.” Dwight assured him.

“Well, If you say so. See ya in a moment luv. Love you.”

“Alright, love you too.” he said, and they hung up.

Dwight practically skipped to the beach. He was excited for how wonderful things were gonna be. It would truly be something to remember, more memorable than a balcony anyhow, even if it was a nice balcony with a nice view. As he waited at the edge of the beach, he checked his pockets once more. He felt his heart drop when he didn’t immediately feel the box, but let out a sigh of relief once he searched his other pocket.

”Oh, David, over here!” Dwight waved as soon as he saw the other man. He was careful to keep the flowers hidden behind his back as David jogged over to him.

"So, wot does mister handsome here 'ave in store for me?" David wondered as he playfully tried to take a peek.

"Close your eyes! It's supposed to be a surprise." Dwight said, and David followed his order. He brought forth the flowers, but pocketed the envelope before letting David know he could open his eyes. He decided its contents would best be given to start the height of the night.

"Awwh…" David said as his expression softened as he gazed at the flowers. "Aren't you a sweet thing?" he added with a kiss to Dwight's cheek. "They're lovely."

"Ah, well, I'm glad you like 'em. I was gonna give them to you earlier, but I saw the beach, and thought we could take a walk. The night's still so young, and you know, why end it soon?”

“I think that's a wonderful idea, luv.” David answered while still gazing into the flowers, and then turned back to Dwight and gently slipped his hand into Dwight’s. “Any time spent with you is time well spent.”

Dwight felt his heart swell. If he was uncertain before, which he wasn’t, he knew that he loved David more than anyone, and was determined to follow through with his plan.

“You’re a sap.” Dwight lightly laughed as they began their walk.

“Only for you.” David teased, knowing very well how sappy that was. “But, I’d say you’re a pretty big sap yourself.” he said, putting some emphasis on the flowers. With the evidence present, Dwight had no choice but to concede.

“Well, only for you.” he smiled.

They continued their walkdown the beach in the sand, David holding onto his flowers with his free hand, the plastic that encased them crinkling as he walked. It mixed with the quiet crunch of the sand as they walked on it and the ocean’s gentle night sway to form the background noise to their conversation. Dwight has his free hand shoved into his pocket, clutching the box.

It was indeed a beautiful night. They were relatively far away from the hustle and bustle of civilization, letting a few stars shine with the lower amount of light pollution present. They passed a few groups having a bonfire, eventually coming reaching a stretch of beach devoid of others. The bright, full moon shone down onto them on the near starless clear night. The moon formed a shimmering, thick wave of light on the dark ocean that stretched from the horizon to the edge of where the sand met the ocean waves.

"I'm glad you thought of this." David praised. "It's relaxing. Nice."

"It is." Dwight responded. Now or never. And now was perfect as could be. "Hey, um, I got you one more thing." Dwight said, and pulled out the envelope for David to take.

w3sZAEqaq

"And you really called me a sap." David jested as he jokingly shook his head and took the envelope. It was plain, but of a sturdy, textured paper. Inside was a folded up paper also of good quality. He unfolded it and turned so the moonlight would illuminate the paper. He also had to hold it close to his face, so he could read it clearly. Thus, he began to read it aloud.

"David, we've spent many years together. A number of 'em were in hell, but you helped make my time there more bearable. I'm glad I was able to do the same for you. I'm glad we were able to make a life together here. And through those years we've spent building a life greater than any heaven, I grew to love you more than I thought I could ever love. It happened when we got our first apartment together and you cuddled against me that night, when you kissed me on live tv when you won your first championship, and it's happened a million more times. I love you more than anything. And I know I love you as much as you love me." David was sure he was about to cry out of pure elation. He went on to read the last sentence. "So, I've one question to ask you now:"

"Will you marry me?"

Shocked, David lowered the paper to see Dwight down on one knee before him. David was most certainly crying now. Unto him, a beautiful ring was offered. The intricate piece of fine jewelry could have been made of plastic and glass for all he cared though. What mattered was what the ring represented, what was happening.

"Yes!" he proclaimed once the reality caught up to him. He let Dwight slip the ring on, and then hoisted him up, pulling him in close and laughing and spinning with joy. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

He slowed down and let Dwight down as well, keeping him close as he expressed his own love with a deep kiss.

"Of course I'll marry ya, you angel of a man."

Dwight giggled, and pulled David in for another deep kiss. There were no words he could use to accurately describe the magnitude of the wonderful emotions he was feeling.

The blessed letter in his pocket and bouquet in hand, David walked back to their hotel with Dwight holding his other hand. Both fidgeted with the ring as they walked, whispering sweet words and recalling beloved memories.

Fiancé and fiancé, they spend their first night together as such, feeling a love they knew would never end.

#kingfield #david king #dwight fairfield #dead by deadlight #dbd #Kingfield's Fourth Anniversary #1.9k words #What a wonderful way to end this week :)

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what-big-teeth · 4 years ago

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Soothe (Male Naga ; Fic Raffle)

A quick re-upload of this fic requested by @gothglamonenightstand featuring a Black female reader and a male naga. A slight misunderstanding leads to more and a happy ending. Hope you enjoy!

tw: animal attack, animal death

Female Reader (POV) x Male Naga The cottage is everything you dreamed of.

It’s cozy with two floors, but not overly spacious with a welcoming guest room. Its clean hearth is large enough to warm the whole house during the heavy winters. But for now, during these mid-summer months, you’ll be drawn to the window of the master bedroom, which showcases a spectacular view of the forest just beyond the property’s edge.

Your new home is a wonder, one that was purchased with little coin per the last owner’s request. This, and the kindness of the elderly Mr. Adley, is why you’re more than happy to accommodate him until his son returns from the village to shepherd the older man to his new home.

“I’m glad everything’s to your liking, my dear. I was somewhat worried when you first arrived to see what this old shell had to offer.”

You tuck a thick lock of curly, black hair behind your brown ear with a smile and pour him another cup of soothing chamomile tea, finishing it with a dollop of honey.

“You had nothing to worry about, sir. This place is lovely and has a charm all its own. It carries the feeling of home all throughout.”

Mr. Adley chuckles, his wizened, light brown hand lifting his handcrafted cup with a slight tremble.

“Then may I also suggest the pathway from the back garden into the forest? I used the walk to clear my head and relax when life became overwhelming. I hope it can offer you the same if you need a reprieve from your apprenticeship.”

You respond with a brief smile then hide your growing frown behind your teacup.

The fact you were chosen as Madam Irene Bastien’s apprentice was a miracle all its own. Known for her reticence as much as her natural genius, people from far and wide sought her out for the chance to glean any knowledge from her. But every time, she rejected all potential students. Word of her refusals spread far and wide to the point that the number of hopeful potentials gathering at her manor dwindled to nothing.

You had heard the stories about the elusive apothecary and hearing was more than enough.You were comfortable in your little hometown, aiding your mother with selling her wares at the market. But a chance encounter in late spring with a carefully disguised Madam changed your life forever.

You had merely suggested to her a list of ingredients for a healing tonic and accompanied her around the market, helping her find the items. All without realizing that you helping out a supposed ‘visitor’ was a secret test of sorts. That very night, Madam Bastien revealed her true identity after finding your home and offered you an apprenticeship.

You’re still not yet sure what she sees in you, a mere beginner apothecary. But your family refused to let such a wonderful opportunity pass by. With their blessing, you gathered your belongings and made the three day move to the outskirts of the country’s capital, promising to never let doubt make you look back.

“Miss?”

You startle, your forearm bumping into the half-filled metal kettle beside you. Thankfully, the water inside has cooled to a lukewarm temperature.

“Sorry,” you say, “I got lost in my thoughts.”

“That’s alright, dear. A lot has happened today.”

Thankful for Mr. Adley’s kindness, you actively listen to his stories about how he built the cottage as a gift to his late wife. How his son grew up here as a rambunctious child. How so many friends and visitors from the capital would stop by during the yearly equinox festivals.

When his son arrives, you happily help him gather Mr. Adley’s belongings and place them beside the wagon to be packed. A few hours later, as you bid the men goodbye with a wave, a sense of warm contentment settles over you. You hope to run into Mr. Adley again one day, to share another cup of tea and to hear more of his stories.

But for now, there’s unpacking to be done.

First your clothing, which was packed by your mother in a sturdy trunk. Then, the wooden statuettes carved by your father. The bed linens, pillows, blankets, and your other personal belongings. Once everything is secured in its proper place, you light the hearth and reheat the stew cooked for you by Mr. Adley’s son.

Your stomach full, you think about the path Mr. Adley mentioned, wanting to at least see it before night fell. But no such luck.

“Ah well,” you murmur to yourself. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Your stomach full, you heat up some water drawn from the backyard well and scrub the day’s accumulated dirt from your body. Dressed in a long gown and with a silent yawn, you climb the stairs to retire to your bedroom.

Tomorrow will be a busy day and you can’t afford any lethargy. Safely tucked in bed, you close your eyes and drift to sleep.

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

The horse-drawn coach hits a slight bump on the gravel road, rocking you and your filled satchel. You had asked to sit up front beside the driver when he first arrived in the early morning. Mainly to talk and to calm your addled nerves.

Unfortunately, he declined, stating that he had strict orders from Madam Bastien to keep his distance. His words saddened you somewhat, but you complied, not wanting to threaten his standing with the Madam.

One drive past the capital’s city gates on the cobblestoned road and into the business district, the coach arrives at the Madam’s workshop. It’s small but sturdy, a much more humble place than the manor she’s known to live in. Once the coach slows to a stop, you gather your satchel and climb out.

A woman with deep skin the color of a starless, night sky stands before the workshop’s door. Her gaze is stalwart as she watches your approach, her hands tucked behind her back. Once you’re close enough, she gives you a warm smile that stretches the crow’s feet gathered at the corner of her eyes.

“Welcome,” she says. “Have you already had breakfast?”

The cheerful manner in which she greets you is nothing like how she first met you. You swiftly remember your manners and reply before she can attribute your silence to rudeness.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then the bread and pastries inside will serve as a later brunch.”

Madam Bastien turns around, her long, gray beaded braids shifting against her back. She opens the door with a wrinkled hand and glances at you with a sharp, deep brown gaze.

“Let’s get started,” she says. “We have much to cover.”

And cover much you did. The pages of your new journal were soon stained with notes detailing a variety of topics. Types of animal fats, herbs, plants. Which salves, tinctures, and ointments work best. Potions for pain, conception, and contraceptive measures. The apothecaries’ system for measurement.

She then has you mix together a common tincture after you memorize the ingredient list. The first time, the mix isn’t properly done. Not enough potency. How she can tell just by the scent alone is astounding. So you try again. And again. And again, until finally, you get it right.

By the time brunch rolls around, a number of failed tinctures sit on the table before you and your journal is halfway filled. You’ll have to purchase another before the next lesson.

“I think a break is needed,” Madam Bastien says. “You must be getting hungry.”

You’re about to politely refute her claim, but your empty stomach answers in reply, refusing to be ignored. With a chuckle, Madam Bastien stokes a fire in her hearth and uses the heat to warm up the chilled bread and pastries. They go wonderfully well with some tea and herbed butter, as you soon learn. You happily eat your fill, humming at the mesh of flavors coating your tongue. Madam Bastien, however, sits across from you and takes the time to flip through your journal. She nods as she reads along, smiling.

“I was right,” she says. “You’ll be a wonderful choice for the position of Royal Apothecary once I retire.”

Your fork clatters against your plate.

“W-what?” Madam Bastien simply picks up a pastry and spreads a little butter onto the flakey crust.

“Word got out about my imminent retirement, no doubt thanks to those damned gossips at Court. That’s why so many would-be apprentices swarmed my estate. Of course, I wasn’t going to simply choose some hopeful unknown to take my place as the Royal Family’s apothecary.”

She sips at her cooling tea before continuing.

“I decided to find my apprentice after the throngs died down. So the King allowed me to travel to the smaller pockets of the country while keeping the reason behind my absence a secret.”

“...Which is how you met me.”

She nods.

“A choice, I must say, I’m glad to have made. You show immense potential with your gift yet remain grounded. Both skills will be needed to survive the Royal Court and everything it entails. But that will be years from now.” She taps a loose fist against her opposite shoulder with a chuckle.

“I won’t be going anywhere any time soon. After all, there is still much to teach you. But for now, sate your hunger. Once you’re finished, you can leave for the market then get settled at home. We’ll reconvene tomorrow at the same time.”

You finish your portion, drain your cup of tea, and bid Madam Bastien a good day. The food weighs heavily in your belly and your temples pound as you gather foodstuffs from the large market. You honestly don’t know if you could’ve handled the task without the help of the coach driver. You’re thankful, but know he’s only aiding you due to the Madam’s order. And as before, he keeps to himself on the trip to your cottage.

Your nerves tense and heighten to a peak once you arrive home. The sensation only grows stronger as you place your items in their proper places. Soon enough, you drop down into a chair at the dining table, your fingers tangling and pulling at your hair almost to the point of pain.

You can deal with and adapt to a sudden apprenticeship. But the assured role of Royal Apothecary? That is something you nor your family foresaw. What would they say if they could see you now?

With so many hypotheticals running through your mind, you honestly want to forget Madam Bastien’s words for a short time. Forget that tomorrow is coming and with it, a greater sense of responsibility you never expected.

Your downcast gaze lifts towards the back door as Mr. Adley’s words resound in your mind. With the sun still visible in the sky, you won’t have to worry about nightfall and what it will bring. Now is a good time as any to see what his handmade path has to offer.

You press to your feet and slip outside, closing the door softly with a tight grip. Taking a deep breath, you force your fingers to relax and glance down. Flat, gray stones form a simple trail before your feet, leading towards the forest. Blades of grass stick up in the gaps between each rock, a reminder that nature can easily overtake this area if it so chooses. It’s a charming sight, one that makes taking the first step easy.

Your steady gait slows to a more eased pace as a gathering of clouds blocks the sun’s light. A gentle breeze carrying the raw, earthy scent of the forest brushes against your heated skin. You welcome the sensation with a pleased, quiet sigh and press onward.

There’s nothing but a sea of rolling grass between your cottage and the outskirts of the forest. It’s easy to see why Mr. Adley suggested this, and you’re highly thankful. It’ll be another thing you’ll talk to him about when you see him again. As you near the edge of the forest, your heart starts to sink. Turning around means having to face the reality of your apprenticeship; something you’d rather not do until absolutely necessary.

In a way, your wish is granted. But not through normal means.

Just a stone’s throw, in a sunlit clearing, a large, dark burly shape presses itself further onto the ground. You hear an odd, splashing sound that is soon followed with violent crunching. As the shape shifts, you’re able to see the scene before you with clarity. A massive, black bear tears its maw into the fresh remains of a stag. One that it, without a doubt, took down itself.

You take a silent breath and begin to slowly back away. Something brittle snaps underneath your foot. You freeze. So does the bear up ahead.

Your heart pounds in your chest as it lifts its head, searching for the source of the sound. Its dark eyes bore into yours, grunts emanating from its mouth. With a shrill roar, it barrels towards you, sharp teeth bared. You can’t move, no matter how much you beg your body to act.

All you can do is shut your eyes and hope for a swift end. But there’s no impact.

No sound of a beast eager to tear into you; only the soft whisper of a passing breeze. Carefully and slowly, as you mentally take stock of your intact self, your eyes open.

The bear lies on the ground, nothing more than a motionless heap. The green grass underneath its form is slowly dyed a dark color, a deep red that the sun’s rays catch. But the shade is nothing compared to the ink-black braid belonging to the being calmly extracting their long claws from the carcass. Piercing gold eyes meet yours, framed by rich, brown skin and a full nose bearing a long scar. In fact, the majority of the stranger’s bare torso is littered with old injuries, both small and large. The only part of his body that remains untouched is his black, serpentine tail.

Your legs decide then and there to lose their remaining strength. Your body sinks to the ground, the thick grass taking the brunt of your fall as your lungs cry out for air. You fill them, holding your hands over your throbbing chest.

“Are you alright?”

Your gaze darts up. The naga extends a bloodless, clawed hand towards you; the other he keeps behind his back. Pushing aside your nervousness, you take it and he effortlessly pulls you to your feet. But his grip on your hand remains; perhaps to keep steadying you.

“T-thank you.” Your eyes flit from his claws, which barely touch your skin, to the fallen bear behind him. “I owe you my life.”

He releases his grip on your hand after a few minutes of silence. No doubt after assuring you can stand on your own two feet without aid.

“You must be the new owner of the cottage, then?”

You startle at his words.

“Yes, but how did…”

“The Adleys told me about the upcoming changes weeks ago. I just didn’t expect to meet you so soon...maybe not at all.”

You let out a soft chuckle, not quite aware of where the urge came from. But it acts as a crack in the dam holding back your feelings all the same.

Without warning, everything spills out from your lips. Meeting Madam Bastien, your apprenticeship, the move to the capital from your only home. Your eyes burn and your chest heaves while you speak, but you can’t stop the release. Not until everything is out in the open, including your near-death experience. As your sobs quiet, a cool sensation brushes against your wet cheeks. Your rescuer gives you a soft, understanding smile as he gently wipes away your tears with the back of his claw.

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I must be taking up your time. And I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Anil,” he says. “And honestly? I was debating whether to take a nap in my favorite tree or grab a snack from the river. But I have to say this change in routine is more than welcome.”

His relaxed tone pulls a true laugh from you, which by the look of his own fanged smile, was his goal.

“Much better,” he murmurs.

Somehow, that one comment and your emotional release has you feeling much lighter than before. You’re able to take a deep, calming breath and give him your name. All while returning Anil’s smile. He repeats it, as if committing it to memory. But a part of you wonders why he looks so thrilled to know such a simple thing.

“Thank you again,” you say. “I should head back. I’m expected to meet with Madam Bastien tomorrow morning.”

Anil nods then clears his throat.

“If you’re in need of a willing ear, please feel free to return,” he says. “That is, if you’d like to.”

Your eyes take him in: the way he deftly skims a claw over one of his cheeks while attempting to meet your gaze, but failing to hold it. The sight is endearing and rather sweet.

“I would, as long as I don’t disturb you.” You purse your lips together and decide to take a chance. “In fact, if you’re available tomorrow…”

“I am,” he says, in what you think is an excited tone. But you don’t want to assume.

So you simply smile and bid him a good day, telling him “until tomorrow.”

Anil repeats your words and you two go your separate ways.

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

The following day, Madam Bastien proves to be quite the taskmaster. Your new journal is nearly filled like its predecessor, prompting another visit to the market. And another venture to the forest’s edge.

But this time, you plan to go bearing gifts. At first, you expect to wait at the previous meeting spot until Anil arrives. Instead, you find a guide of sorts without any signs of yesterday’s bear. Makeshift stakes stick up from the tall grass, the tops marked with a vivid red dye. It doesn’t take long for your curiosity to get the better of you.

You follow the marked path to a larger clearing where a massive tree towers overhead. Dappled sunlight shines through the gaps of the leaves and on a familiar, dozing naga. Anil is cradled among the thick yet lower branches of the tree. His dark tail is coiled underneath his upper body, providing a makeshift bed of sorts. His features are soft, the serene sight bringing a smile to your face. So you seat yourself at the tree’s base and turn to your attention to your wickered basket.

You push back the lid and remove the linen keeping the food warm. The delicious, mingling scents make your mouth water. And cause a groan from up above. Anil shifts, blinking down at you with bleary eyes, a few stray leaves clinging to his mussed hair. You giggle.

“Good afternoon, Anil. Did you sleep well?” Anil yawns widely, his fangs unsheathing themselves from the action.

“Very, thank you. By chance, is that venison I smell?” You nod.

“It’s for you. I purchased it from the market as a surprise. Come have some.”

You think you see Anil’s body tense for a few moments.

“Are...are you sure?” he asks with a hesitant tone.

You huff out a light laugh and smile.

“Of course I am!”

Seconds later, he takes you up on your offer and slithers his way down. Soon he’s beside you, happily partaking of the meat, bread, cheese, and fruit you’ve brought along. He finishes his portion with a satisfied sigh, licking his claws with a forked tongue while you tuck your leftovers back into the basket for dinner.

“I wasn’t sure what to get originally, but I figured venison would be a safe bet. Was I right?”

Anil glances your way then down to his hands.

“You were, and then some. It’s actually my favorite.”

He fidgets, the motion traveling down to his curled tail. It reminds you of how a ripple affects an entire pond.

You reach out with a tentative hand and touch his shoulder. His deep inhale doesn’t escape your notice. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes! I’m just thinking, that’s all. But that can wait. How was your time at Madam Bastien’s?”

You tell him how your first foray with creating a decoction from memory went. Better than expected, but with some bumps along the way. You also mention the need for another journal and how you expect to have a miniature library soon.

Anil listens intently to you, smiling all the while. But it’s the light in his golden eyes that give you pause. They’re warm, almost molten, and full of...fondness? You’re quick to dismiss the thought and prompt him to tell you about his day, which he readily does.

When Anil asks to see you again, you both agree to the following day. It’s from that point onward that you notice some odd things.

One day, as you accompany Anil to the river, he stays close by your side. During one instance, he places his clawed hand against the small of your back. You don’t think much of it, especially when you both come across some gnarled roots jutting from the ground. He carefully and gently guides you over the obstacles, but his touch lingers before he pulls away.

Then, at the river, he catches a large haul of fish. But instead of placing them all into his own personal satchel, he reveals a second bag. He fills it with the majority of his catch and presents it to you with a shy smile on his lips. You accept it with genuine thanks and he looks away, grinning with pleasure.

After that, Anil keeps close to you in various ways. But more so as he tells you about his family, him leaving the den before his other siblings, and meeting the Adleys. Still, whether it’s to guide you by holding your hand, to show you some of his favorite areas in the forest, or to present you with more food, he’s always near. In fact, your personal stock of meat is nearly overflowing and you’d hate for it to go to waste.

Early that morning, you smoke the meat (with the wood Anil happily volunteered to chop for you) and bring the bundle to your next meeting with the Madam. She hums with pleasure as she tucks into the food and calls her coachman to receive a portion.

“This fish is considered a rare delicacy here in the capital,” she says, dabbing at her lips with a thick napkin. “Last I checked, the fishmonger was unsure if he would have any this season. How did you come across it?”

You sip at your water, unable to hide your smile.

“A friend of mine gave me a part of his catch.”

Madam Bastien gives you a look. It reminds you of the knowing way your mother would look at you when a young boy caught your attention.

“Just a friend? Are you sure of that?”

You’re about to refute her claim but pause. Your mind recalls just how close Anil has grown towards you over the last few weeks. You’ve also learned more about him and have come to greatly enjoy his company. But there’s...something more.

“It seems,” Madam Bastien begins, pulling you from your thoughts, “that your friend wishes to impress you. If I may ask, what has he done for you so far?”

You explain everything. And when she asks how it all began, you mention the picnic you prepared as thanks for saving your life from a raging bear. Confusion colors her face, but when you mention Anil being a naga…

The Madam nearly chokes on her wine. She swiftly places her napkin against her mouth as she coughs, clearing her throat.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you say standing up, hands raised and ready to help.

But she holds up her own hand in reply, making you pause. She gestures for you to sit and you do.

“Since that is the case,” she says after a deep swallow, “I should explain a bit about the naga and their courting habits…”

She starts at the beginning, aligning what you and he have done so far with the start of naga courtship behavior. The interested party provides food without prompting, letting the other know their interest in them as a possible mate. As she provides more detail into what may happen—including copulation—a burning heat floods your cheeks. But you find that it isn’t unwelcomed.

“So then,” she concludes, “That is what you should expect. I just hope that your new paramour won’t distract you from your studies, yes?”

“Of course not.” You’re stunned to find that you mean every word and that you agree with Anil being more than a friend. “But, if it’s alright with you, may I be excused early today? There are some things I need to take care of.”

The Madam calls for her coachman, gives you a knowing smile and winks.

“Good luck, dearest.”

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

You can barely contain yourself as the coach coasts to a stop before your cottage. In fact, you take the initiative and leap out before the coachman is able to open the door for you.

You quickly circle around back and follow the stone pathway towards the edge of the forest. Your heart swells at the sight nearing closer with each stride.

Anil holds a bundle of makeshift markers, the tips dyed that familiar shade of red. Before he’s able to spear the next stick into the ground, you shout his name. He pauses, straightening his body and saying your name as you dash towards him.

He manages to catch you as you leap towards him, your arms winding around his neck and your cheek nestling against his own. He shudders, him own grip tightens around your body, secure and warm.

“I’m guessing something good happened today?”

You hum in reply, pulling back so you can see him face to face. Then, you gently press your lips against his.

Anil tenses, and for a moment, doubt begins to seep in. But it’s quickly swept away as he kisses you back, his fangs pressing against your mouth and the tips of his claws gently teasing the nape of your neck. All while as his other arm holds you close. Your hand taps his back, a reminder of your need to breathe. He tapers off the kiss, taking in a few deep breaths of his own. His golden eyes glitter as they take in your breathless expression.

“I didn’t...I wasn’t sure...so you are interested in me as I am in you?”

“I am,” you say, cupping his cheek in your palm. “It just took me some time to realize it.”

He nuzzles against your warmth, with a large grin.

“How so?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” you say. “One that may take up most of the day.”

“I want to know,” Anil says. “As long as I can be right next to you.”

You can’t help but silently agree. “The cottage is large enough for the both of us, if that’s alright with you?”

Anil presses his forehead against yours, his eyes drinking you in.

“More than,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

#monster boyfriend #monster/human #monster romance #exophilia #naga boyfriend #naga #400 follower raffle #I hope you all enjoy!#female reader #fem reader

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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The Loud House Valentine’s Day Double Feature (Back in Black and Stage Plight) or My My My Once Bitten Twice Shy

What is up my Loudites? And while I am returning to the Loud House I do have some sad news to get out of the way first.. i’m ending regular coverage of the Loud House. I don’t like doing this.. but when I picked up the show, I didn’t really have a set schedule.. and that was a bad thing as I didn’t get nearly everything I wanted done. Now I have one and honestly it’s been great: it allows me to stay focused and if I end up not feeling what I was going to do that day, provided it’s not a comission or specfically needed that day, I can swap things around a bit easier.

The reason I bring this up is Nick’s way of scheduling means I CAN’T reasonably put the show on the schedule. They often don’t announce airdates until the wee before, which isn’t a bad thing WATCHING, and isn’t unresonable for a children’s network. But for someone who likes to have a concrete schedule at the top of the month, still flexable and able to make changes if they come up but at least some idea of what i’ll be doing and when, that’s a non-starter, as not knowing when a show’s going to be there or not really messes with things. In contrast Disney puts up their entire programming schedule for next month towards the end, so I know if a show’s coming back, and thus that it’ll probably be around for next month’s too. And if it goes away a week earlier than expected then super I have that space for other sttuff. But I just have too much other stuff, paid and on my own time, to keep friday’s open in perpetuity.

I will however still reviewing the show infrequently as I still love it, Season 5 will probably have plenty of episodes I want to talk about, already it has Leni running for mayor which sounds like one of my wonky spinoff ideas and I love it all the more for that, and ther’es tons of episodes I have and haven’t seen to dig into. So like Lori I won’t be in the house on a daily basis but i’m still going to show up a lot. I already have an April Fools special planned, as well as a retrospective ready for some time in the future. And of course if more Sam and Luna episodes show up, you know i’ll be on those as fast as humanly possible so yeah not leaving the show.. just not coveirng it because I like having some control of my schedule, it’s a thing with me.

Good then we can get to why your ACTUALLY reading this unless you’ve already scrolled past or scrolled up to this. Next Sunday is Valentine’s Day, and so to continue Valnetine’s Shenanigans on this fine blog, i’m doing some romantic style episodes of the loud hosue for you. I did intend for this to be bigger, but frankly i’ve been running behind on reviews and running out of steam lately, so I paired it down to the two I wanted to do most. So for today we’ll be covering two of the show’s couples: One they badly need to bring back and I question why they haven’t, and one that I feel has gotten a lot of flack for things that aren’t it’s fault. Both are really adorable so expect some awkward blushing, bats, blood, and other stuff rhyming with B under the cut!

Back in Black: So we begin our double feature with Lucy

Yeah I have not covered this adorable harbinger of death enough on this blog, and intended to do this one, among other lucycentric episodes back in october.. and the fact I didn’t is a good argument for why I have a schedule now ain’t it? But sometimes your plans not panning out right at the exact time you planned them works out for you. Not getting to do Plan 9 From Mission Hill during Pride Month meant I got to do it on comission later. And not getting to do this one at Halloween means it still works fine just fine for valentine’s day.

So we begin the episode with Lincoln working on his science project, with Rusty coming over to help.

Shockingly though not only is he not just taking a nap or hitting on Lincon’s sisters while Lincoln works but actually helping, he’s actually good at it. I’m as suprsied as you. Though this is early in his characterization, so he hasn’t’nt been established as horribly sucking at everything or his friends being done with his bullshit QUITE yet. Give him time. This is an interesting moment in the character’s history though, as it’s the episode that firmly establishes him as a close friend of Lincolns. While he was already turned from a member of a random violence gang to LIncoln’s buddy in the span of season 1, this episode cements him as one of his closer pals simply by him coming over and the two being fairly familiar with one another. Granted by that same token Girl Jordan should be in the group.. and I have nothing to add to that. Add Girl Jordan to the Lincrew. Just do it.

Anyways Rusty brought his brother along. And you’d expect me to be terrified as there’s now three of them. But.. nope I like Rocky. He’s a chill kid and his personality goes together well with Lucy’s as while he’s a more typical kid, he’s still very subdued in his emotions like she is. Also he mentions both parents so my divorce theory.. is honestly still valid as this was three seasons ago and I could buy their mother left during that time.

And yes Lucy’s in love.. and stalking him a bit as she follows him around the house sighing while he wonders who did that.. though it is a nice clue their compatible. When you can sense the presence of someone whose big running gag is showing up out of nowhere to scare the crap out of people that means something. And it’s either that you’d really get that person or your Wolverine. Or one of his kids. Or his clones. Or clones of his clones. What i’m saying is Rusty’s mom banged the wolverine and his family tree is really weird even by marvel standards.

But I do give her a pass as she’s not trying to be creepy or obsessive, she just doesn’t know how to talk to him as he’s your average kid and she’s a creature of the night. It’s just a kid being shy which is very refreshing both because pre-savnio being fired the show had some very messed up ideas about relationships and gender politics at times, the latter of which actually crops up here, and because having grown up with the cartoons of the 90′s and 2000′s.. I had to put up with things like this.

Full Disclosure: I DO ship sonamy.. but only after around Sonic Chronicles, where Bioware and then Sega decided to not make “Constantly harasses sonic despite him clearly not being interested and saying so vocally” and “Obessess over him to a point I worry she’s going to break his legs so he’ll never run away from her again”, as well as aging her up from 12. Still find her ungodly annoying at best and terrible at worst before that point, Sonic CD and Sonic Advance excluded. And yes I am that huge of a nerd, damn proud of it too.

What i’m getting at is that a little girl unable to talk to a guy and only being kinda creepy because that’s what she does is LEAGUES better than “IT’S NOT CREEPY WHEN A WOMAN DOES IT”. Given this episode was written by a woman that probably helped a lot if not entirely but I don’t blame her for that.. more on that later.

Point is she’s smitten but her first attempt to talk goes back as he rushes to leave after she tries talking to him.. and also appears out of nowhere to spook him. Come on man, your better than that. YOu sensed her before why not now? Up your game. But yeah Lucy’s depressed while Lincoln talks to her about it, about them leaving and once Lucy confesses she’s into rocky asks what he’s into. Lincoln.. has no idea as he’s barely been around Rocky. He’s just an average kid he dosen’t quite understand. Normal is the word he uses and Lucy ponders that. We next see the three most traditionally feminine sisters, Lori, Leni and Lola, all pissed someone stole their stuff, though Lori does suspect Lola at first because let’s face it, this fits her MO of being an entitled brat and not being above petty theft. But no the culprit is Lucy who genuinely apologizes and understands that their mad but the other girls are fine with it given the context, which Lucy explained, and are happy to make her over. This is where the problem I was hinting at comes in: ALL the girls are on board with this makeover plan. the problem is.. only the three who came in in the first place make actually sense making Lucy more tradiotnally feminine. Lori loves fashion and is a control freak who has troubles with empathy at times especially at this point in the series, Leni while not INTETIONALLY hurtful is kind of ditzy and thus can miss some cues, and Lola has a yawning starless void where her soul should be. For these three? Yeah this plot actually makes sense they wouldn’t think of Lucy’s feelings and actually help her use who she is to get rocky or tell her it doesn’t matter she’s beautiful as she is.. then presumably bring the wrath of god down on that poor child before things were cleared up. The issue is more dragging the other sisters into it. It only fits the three above to really give a shit about making Lucy more “normal” and “Girly” and “Other stereotypical bullshit”. Luna is very chill and empathetic and would be the first to say “Wait maybe making her the opposite of herself isn’t a good idea”, Luan is likewise empathetic though I could possibly see it she really doesn’t need to be in this plot, Lynn ENTIRELY doesn’t fit as she prefers sports and getting dirty and what not and is the closest to Lucy out of the sisters and thus would probably be the most defensive about her not changing and that could’ve actually been interesting, Lana would be the same minus the being closest and Lisa is coldly detached a lot of the time and wouldn’t care about any of this on a good day. It feels HORRIBLY offensive and out of character to have them all suddenly be “nah your not girly enough”. These girls don’t give a shit about whose more feminine than who and it’s really bad to pidgeonhole them as that. However.. I dont’ blame episode writer Gloria Shen entirely for this. She wrote it, she gets some of the discredit.. but she didn’t DIRECT the episode and a LOT can change from page to screen. No THAT was series creator and known sexual preadator Chris Savino. And i’m not just blaming him because he’s a creepy asshole, but because the seasons he directed, seasons 1, 2 and most of 3, had a bad habit of having episodes where all the girls acted as a group and often to weak ends, like the green house, the one where they all fought, the gender swap episode or heavy meddle.. which is a headache for another day. Point is it doesn’t surprise me he didn’t fix this or even genuinely cared to differentiate them and it’d be until next season where the show fully became an ensemble piece. SO yeah I blame him on this not for his horrible history, but simply because it sounds like his writing style and as director, and a producer on the show, he had the power and responsibility to fix things and did nothing. So if it wasn’t directly his fault in the first place , he certainly didn’t fix it, call it out in storyboarding or well anything. So yeah shared blame all around.

So after a makeover montage, Lucy is uh... well I can’t describe the abomination they’ve created.

I mean.. none of it works, and I think that’s very much the intent, dosen’t make it any less horrifying. Nothing about this is right: makeup REALLY shouldn’t go on a child in any circumstace so the blush on her cheeks is creepy and makes her look like one of those creepy porcelian dolls that i’m 100% sure either are planning to kill us all one day or were made to keep the souls of the damned trapped inside forever. The ear rings just look creepy and again are a bit much for an 8 year old, and the blonde hair just brings it all together. The pink outfit is fine.. I guess but the face is just so unsettling I can’t process the rest of her outfit and i’m not even going to try.

Point is she looks terrifying, and not in the fun way she usually does, and Rocky dosen’t know what to make of this. Oh and if your wondering why he’s here Lynn just.. took a hockey stick to Lincoln’s project to get the Spokes Boys back over here, and Lisa mocked him for pointing out the obvious holes in their plan despite being 4 and LIncoln having a girlfriend at this point. Granted his relationship with Ronnie Anne at this point is also kinda effed up, but given you all pushed him in this direction, Lisa still has no room to talk and they amicably broke up at some point once the writers decided “Let’s pretend like this never happened and they were just friends, despite her being introduced with a crush on him and us still replaying episodes with said relationship in play, instead of actually dealing with this directly”. You may be easily able to guess what hte retrospective’s about at this point. So Lori comes in for phase two .. WITH BOBBY!

Just.. I cannot tell you how much I needed my boy to calm me down after the last two scenes of horribly off character writing and ... that thing up there. He dosen’t do much this episode but every episode is better with Bobby and that’s a scientefic fact. So Lori claims they had a double date fall through which Bobby barely follows along with.. and it does kinda feel pressurey to kinda force Rocky’s hand here but her intentions ARE good, and a group date is a good way to relive presssure. It just ends up falling through becaue Lori wants her to act intentionally helpless, which makes no sense both for Lori’s personality given how driven and controlling she is and how Bobby clearly knows both things and likes the first and she worked on the second for him. So yeah the golf date falls through and Lori apologizes for being a bitch about all of this, as they all do, which again. .has me questioning WHY we needed the whole sister group instead of just Lori and co. Or even just Lori. The show REALLY needed to learn character ballance and while it is struggling on occasion, as seen with how lincolncentric this season has been so far, this episode reminds me it used to be MUCH worse.

But Lucy thanks them because their intetnions were good, i’m going to need a citation on that given it came off as them wanting her to change because they found her weird nad not because they genuinely wanted to help her, and goes off to sulk about being alone. Lincoln dosen’t know what to do till the next day where, again suprisingly, Rusty had the right idea and had them come over to his place. We also find out he’s scared of blood.. which.. I can relate to. Seriously i’ve only insulted the guy once the whole episode

But we find that out because Rocky made his own because he actually found Lucy’s really cool, what a kid. So Lincoln gets the brothers over to his house by damaging the project himself then claming they need to go back and once he sees Lucy’s around has Rocky go into the kitchen to get them some sodas which he agrees to because why not.

So in a nice little change-up on the running gag Rocky shows up startling Lucy and we get a really fucking cute scene as they hash things out. They have a normal conversation, finally getting past their shared awkwardness, in part because he admits he prefers her as herself. As it turns out Rocky wasn’t scared.. he just thought she was too cool for him and felt intimidated and like Lucy had no idea what to say. The two then blush and after my heart melts and I freeze it back into shape in a few hours, the two decide to go look at her coffin collection and the next day proudly show off their perfected fake blood.. which destroys the project one more time. WAH WAH WAH. Oh rusty... I knew I could count on you to fuck up at least once.

Back in Black Final Thoughts: First off Black in Black: Weird Name. I mean it kinda gives the game away, not that fans would thikn horrifying mistake lucy would stick but still, and dosen’t really fit. Call it “Why Do Ghoul’s Fall in Love” or something like that or something related to makeovers. Makeover Mistep. Don’t Make Me Over. Makeover Your Case... okay that last one sounds more like the Legally Blond equilvent of Cobra Kai but the point is it’s just weird. Outside of the parts I already went in detail about why their dreadful.. this ep is pretty good. That one bit isn’t enough to derail the episode, merley take it’s goodness down a notch, and Lucy is genuinely fun to watch and her heartbreak is hard to watch, and Rocky was an engaging new character with lots of potetial. A large part of why I did this episode. is to ask WHY he hasn’t come back. Rusty’s now a major character, to the point he’s co-headlining an episode next week with Zach... why Zach’s getting an episode, a SECOND one at that I have no earthly idea but the point is the show’s getitng comfortable enought heir giving lincoln’s friends starring episodes without him too, as Liam got one , if alongside Lynn the power couple of 2021 I tells ya. My point is, besides when is Stella getting an episode dammit, that Rocky really should make a come back as he both provides another character for Rusty and the rest of the lincrew to bounce off of, and he and Lucy had genuine chemstiry and now she has her OWN cast there’s an easy story there about her friends reaction to her dating a non goth. There’s a lot of story potetial with this precious boy bring him back. But overall Pretty in Black is a decent episode, worth checking out if you haven’t seen it and rewatching even if you have.

Stage Plight: So we open with Luann, whose one of my personal faviorites along with Leni, Luna, and Lucy. Granted I haven’t checked out her yearly bouts of going ax crazy on her family yet, but we’ll see in april. But outside of that, which is easy enough to isee iven it’s three episodes out of 214 where she’s like this and she gets her compuance, I find her precious, awkward, and entertaining, from her habit of saying “Get it “ to her love of puns, to the fact she’s essentially a wholesome version of the batman villian the ventriloquist..

Yeah in case you forgot about this gag, she often talks through her dummy Mr. Coconuts.. who functions as her sounding board and helps her figure things out, talks like he’s from the 40′s or 50′s, and in general is a delight. He also once or twice, including this episode acts of his own free will so I don’t know if this is a Child’s Play situation and a dying comedian put his body in her dummy and she’s just rolling with it, if she somehow put a piece of her soul in a dummy or what the hell’s going on here. Compared to the series recently what with it’s mayoral campagins, children murdering guys, and actualy factual spies, this is mildly sane. MIldly. This may also be a serious and untreated case of Disociative Identnity Disorder, but given it’s not framed that way, and Coconuts just seems to be Luann’s way of talking with herself, for now she has’nt gone full vintriloquist. Thoguh givne her april fools day behavior and her profession as a comedian, she probably WILL become the new joker at a some point.

So the two are talking about Luann’s crush on Benny. Benny was introduced back in L is for Love and is one of the only three love interests there to actually return, and along with Sam the only onen to get multiple episodes about their relationship with their respective loud and a full personality. He was also MASSIVELY hated. For those who joined the fandom more recently, Luann was massively shipped with Maggie, an emo girl who showed up in Luann’s second spotlight episode and one where she didn’t torment her entire family, one I still need to see but have read about. It was pretty cute and nothing was wrong with that or the opposites attract dynamic. But said fans got REALLY and understandibly upset about his introduction and were presumibly none too happy he got to return and got his roll expanded. And I.. genuinely like the kid. I have nothing against Maggie and in fact poly ship her with both Luann and Benny, as both seem like they’d be open to that and her dour demanor creates a nice contrast between the chipper luann and the somewhat chipper but also chill benny in the middle. I just feel he’s a very likeable character, sweet and awkward and very much on Luann’s wavelength. Like Sam he’s SIMILAR to his love intrest, having Luann’s love of puns, mime and the theater, but is also not quite as giggly about it and as I said has a bit more of a chill to him, in contrast to how sam is slightly more energetic to Luna’s near constant calm off stage.

I also like him because he’s voiced by Sean Giabrone, an up and coming voice actor who I first met watching the Goldbergs as Adam. His other biggest role so far has been playing Jeff on Clarence, though he’s currently picked up another lead voice roll as Yumulack on Solar Opposites, easily one of the best parts of that show, and has done othe rminor and recurring work, but I feel he’s got the potetial to have a long and fruitful career in voice acting if he wants it. I mean he’s far from the first former ABC star or former Ron Stoppable to make a long and successful voice career of himself. Be the next will fredle man you can do it.

But yeah I like him and think their cute together and feel demonizing a ship for one that had a low chance of happening isn’t fair, especially when you know, we’re in a fandom where incest runs rampant and is STILL a recurring problem to this day. Pick your fucking battles for god’s sake. As I mentioned you can put maggie in with this relationship or Still ship luaggie regardless.

So back in the episode Luann and Coconuts notice Benny signing up for the school play and decide to join him.

Yeah i’ve noticed that a LOT of school set plots are about one of the mains joining a play to either be near or play romantic lead with their crush, or romantic hyjinks happening anyway. Seriously i’ts a lot. I DID think most of them were around romeo and juliet, and Proud Family, Pepper Anne, and Ned’s Declassified all are probably why, it’s actually way more diverse and i’m happy to give credit to shows and movies for that: Jimmy Neutron used Macbeth (IN SPACEEEEEE), American Dragon Jake Long used Antony and Cleopatra, as did the comic strip Foxtrot (That one I remembered), Daria used the canterbury tales, Arrested Development used Much Ado about Nothing, and one of my faviorite instances is the film Get Over it. It’s a cheesy as hell early 2000′s high school pg-13 comedy, that I loved as a teen and nos nostalgicaly love but am aware it has issues and some stitled acting as an adult where our hero joins the high school play in order to win his ex girlfriend back from the douchebag she’s seeing now and ends up falling for his best friend’s kid sister instead. They do a mid summer’ night’s dream, which is not only awesome SOMEONE thought to use that one , as the film has given me a special affection for the play.. but it’s a cheesy musical version written by the gloriously over acted director of the play played by martin short.

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My faviorite part of it is the boy band style number about Hermia. Yes really. And I didn’t even get into the fact Siquo is one of the main character’s best friends, Kristin Dunst had to reshoot a scene while making the first rami spider-man , our heroes weird parents who are sex therapists and have no real filter AND offer Coolio a threesome on their advice show, and yes the actual coolio and yes that was an actual person that existed, or best of all the douchey rival who stole our heroes girlfriend, whose not only a former boy band member whose band peformed the song love scud, but also threatens our hero with nunchucks at one point.

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Just see this movie.. i’ll hopefully talk about it some day.

Point is this kind of plot is stock.. but it’s the good kind you can do a lot of twists and turns with as every example mentioned, even the ones using the crush thing, had some clever twist or turn. And this one is no exception as we’ll see.

So we meet Ms. Berardo, the schools HAMMY as hell drama teacher who gives herself an entrance and is just wondrously entertaining throughout. She’s played by Grey Delise Griffin, which I could recognize immodestly and man does she bring it. Seriously bring her back. Wonderful character. So our heroine and her leading man audition and in a refreshing change of pace they do not get the lead rolls, instead a modern valley girl and a jock who writes his stuff on his arms do so instead. But since Bernado’s a bit nuts, she decides to have the Montagues and Capulets practice separately despite tha not making a ton of sense, to drive up tension and what not. I mean isolating an actor to drive up tension is a vallid technique but even having not read Romeo and Juliet since high school, over a decade ago, I can tell you they have several scenes together and this is a logistical nightmare. However our heroine finagles her way over to swapping camps so she can talk to Benny since honestly given the whole thing was a way to get to spend more time with him, she might as well quit otherwise. It also.. isn’t a bad tactic. She wants to know him before asking him out properly, which is fair and a good way to go, and they already know each other and are friendly, and it’s something she likes doing anyway as they were both involved with a play in his first appearance and her liking theater makes sense as she’s a comedian, and while she clearly prefers standup, it’s often a natural evolution to go fromt hat to acting in comedy stuff or making your own show, so it’s not a bad idea to learn that side of the buisness too.

So Luann FINALLY gets to talk to Benny.. after fast ball specialing mr coconuts in the way of someone trying to sit down

But we get a really cute moment as the two just.. talk like two dorky teenagers; They talk about the real mimes of la, which I want badly to be a show.. even if it’s just to find out what the Mime from Animaniacs is up to now. Where DID that guy go? Did the anvil finally kill him? These are the kinds of things that keep me up at night.. which is probably why I’m finishing this at 4 in the morning. But the two have genuine chemistry with Luann offering him her banana, phrasing, and making a pun he chuckles at. It’s adorable as all hell.

And Bernardo notices, and since her leads have no sparks she regretfully demotes them.. though their reaction is hilariously realistic as both are just happy to have less lines and walk off. She decides to cast Luann and Benny despite being freshman which would never happen but eh this is a unvierse with a snakebird and spies trying to destroy cherries with a death laser why I do I care two seasons later if two freshman got the leads in the play. Still I love the twist: our hero wasn’t trying to get the lead to creeiply force intamacy or anything.. the two just had natural chemistry and the director noticed that and wants to use it.

But while this should be great.. it isn’t as Luann keeps dodging actually kissing Benny when they rehearse the kiss. The reason.. is really frigging endearing. Luann simply hasn’t kissed anyone before, this will be her first.. and naturally she’s REALLY nervous about having it in front of a crowd or Benny thinking she’s a bad kisser. And I mean... while I had no personal experience at that age in kissing, most media and personal accounts detail it as awkward as fuck. But that’s the irony: she dosen’t KNOW it’s always awkward and thus is putting a ton of pressure on herself like anyone her age.

So she breaks under the pressure despite the reasurances of her Dummy/Possible Sign that she needs therapy and while she finds a way out the next Day Benny has aburbtly quit because of “chess club”.. which he’s not in. Luann finds him and talks to him about it, worried it’s her fault.. and she’s right, though Benny bowed out because she clearly wasn’t comfortable with him and didn’t want to make her kiss him when she clearly wasn’t comfortable with it. What a man what a man what a mighty good man. Luann TRIES to explain.. and then lets Mr Coconuts do it. Which usually in high school would lead to humilating rejection. instead Benny brings out his own puppet Mrs. Appleblossom.

Just those eyes.. black and souless.. like a doll’s eyes.. because htey are a doll’s eyes. So yeah Benny also has a puppet he uses to say the things he’s too nervous to say. Which is endearing even if again , KILL IT. KILL IT. I mean i’ts like tha tone guy from victorious if the puppets were actually charming and one of them looked like it was about to play hide the soul. Mrs. Appleblossom explains that Benny is also nervous and with the air cleared and the two realizing theyw ere nervous about the same thing... the inevitible happens

So that fades into the kiss happening on stage, with Luann’s family cheering her, our heroes take a fookin bow and Coconuts and Appleblossom look on.. and talk somehow...and somehow got in the seats on their own.

Stage Plight Final Thoughts: This episode.. is one of the series best, with great pacing, a low amount of repetition and a relatable conflict, while building up Luann’s love intrest to be a wonderful and engaging guy, and giving us a hell of a guest character and Mrs. Gerardo. This episod eis great, the chemistyr between Gambrone and Pucelli is fantastic. This one is just awesome and worth a look especially if the ship contrversy had hit you hard. It really is good. And there’s always room for benny. Until the next rainbow it’s been a pleasure.

#the loud house #lucy loud #luann loud #benny stein #lori loud #leni loud #lola loud #lincoln loud #rusty spokes #rocky spokes #valentine's day #animation #nickelodeon

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

Text

Love of my Life

Ao3 link

Summary: One drink. That's all it took. One drink and Roman was calling into radio stations in the dead of night and professing his dedicated love to one Patton Baker. At least no one he knew had heard him. ...right? Pairings: Romantic royality, platonic/brotherly analogical, parental logince + parental prinxiety Warnings: Brief, throw-away mention of alcohol a few times, food mentions Author’s note: Italicized sentences are flashbacks to the night before

"Hello darling, and welcome to the Sleepless Hour with your very own Remy Crescent. May I ask what has you calling on this fine evening?"

"Oh, just the love of my life."

Roman groaned and pulled the covers over his head. The damned sun was trying to shine its way into his room, and while he normally would love to enjoy being caught in the world's biggest spotlight, he wasn't quite feeling it this morning.

Maybe it was the fact that he could hear loud whispering from downstairs, which always meant some sort of trouble. Maybe it was the fact that despite having only ONE drink last night he felt like Holy Hell. Maybe it was the fact that following the logic that one drink had provided he had publicly and proudly confessed his love to one Patton Baker.

Did he regret what he said? Of course not! But the timing and the manner in which he declared it was decidedly not ideal.

"Wow, love of your life, huh? Quite the bold statement sugar. I like it. What's got you crazed about this one?"

"Just EVERYTHING about him. I don't think I have enough time to say it all."

"Ah, why don't you give it a go anyways?"

"Dad! Better Dad's at the door!"

Roman sighed even as he smiled, pushing himself out of bed at the cry of his youngest. "You know you can't call him that until I marry him right?" He yelled back as he fumbled to get changed.

"Father, if we wait until that time, we will either be calling him 'better Dad' tomorrow or never."

"Logan!"

Roman could almost hear his eldest roll his eyes- not in disrespect, simply in annoyance that the world couldn't keep up with him. "You have a tendency to either do everything at once or never. I drew from your past actions in romantic pursuits and your general personality to make my statement, and I maintain that it's accurate."

"Yeah, well, what have we said about telling the truth in this household?"

"To squash it down unless it is pleasing and flattering to you?"

"There ya go!"

Roman could definitely hear Logan sigh at that, cut off from responding by the doorbell ringing. Virgil called up again, "Dad!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

"Well, first of all, he's absolutely wonderful with my kids. I've got two of them- love them as I do, that doesn't make them any less of handful."

"Oh, wild childs?"

"The complete opposite, actually. Quiet. Not too trusting. But for him... he's amazing. He's already replaced me as the favorite Dad and we're not even close to being actually married."

"Well, that's quite the start- I'll hand it to 'im. But you said you could go on?"

Roman tried not to trip too badly down the stairs. Given the disappointed stares his children were giving him when he finally ended up on ground level, he decided he hadn't achieved that too well.

"Dad, have you even heard of a comb?"

"Virgil, please." Logan chastised lightly. "He's clearly heard of a comb before. Whether or not he's attempted to acquaint himself with one this morning is up for debate, however."

"You two and your debates." Roman tsked with a smile, running a hand through his hair and trying to ignore that they clearly had a point.

Virgil tilted his head with a frown. "Is it really a debate when the answer's clear?"

Roman gasped dramatically, raising his free hand to his chest. "I cannot believe this! My own children! Sons of my loin!"

"We're adopted." Logan and Virgil replied in unison, pitch matched in tired judgement.

"I hate that you can do that."

The doorbell rang again. Roman's attention shot back towards the door. "Oh, right. Patton's here."

"I can't believe you forgot about the 'love of your life.'" Virgil teased, the smirk growing on his face making Roman's checks heat up.

"You two were supposed to be sleeping." He said immediately, the slight smile on Logan's face already clueing him into the fact that Virgil wasn't the only one eavesdropping.

Virgil shrugged. "You were loud." He said simply, sniggering. "Loud with your declarations of LOVE~"

Roman shook his head. "I can't believe I'm surprised."

"Our behavior should be relatively predictable by now, yes." Logan agreed with him helpfully.

Roman just ruffled the older boy's hair as he went by, earning himself a glare from Logan as he rushed to fix it. Roman chuckled as he approached the door.

"I could go on for eons."

"Well, babes, I'm sorry to say we've only got two minutes but if you go fast I'm sure it'll feel like longer."

"Two minutes really isn't enough time. He's too perfect. Too gorgeous."

"Oh, gorgeous, huh? Come on, love, details! Wax that poetic- I can tell you're just dying to."

Roman pulled open the door. The day was rainy, the sky grey and overcast- not that Roman noticed.

"It's not waxing poetic if it's simple fact. Patton is... Patton is literal sunshine..."

Patton was, as expected, waiting cheerfully on Roman's doorstep, mood undamped despite the fact that his clothes were not. His smile was still there, of course; it always was, bright and shiny as if he had stolen the light the sky was so sorely lacking just to brighten it.

"...his smile could light up a starless night; his eyes are prettier than the sapphires that could only dream to ever be as lovely..."

"Can I come in?" Patton asked lightly, eyes shining with mirth from behind his wiry glasses. He lifted the sealed container in his arms up just a bit, shaking it. "I brought cookies!"

"You know you are always welcome here, my darling marshmallow." Roman said with as charming of a smile as he could muster, sweeping backwards and bowing to let Patton in. Patton laughed.

"...oh, and his laugh! Like the finest silver bells ringing, like bluebirds singing on a perfect summer day..."

Patton shook himself a little, rubbing at his wet arms with wet hands as if that was going to dry anything. He glanced up from his unsuccessful work, spotting Logan and Virgil as he did so. His smile only grew.

"Lo-lo! Virge!" Patton greeted them excitedly. "How are my favorite kids!?"

"I don't know, I've never met them." Virgil answered, earning himself a 'stern' glare from Patton.

"Now, kiddo, come on. Don't make me physically fight you." He threatened. Virgil's eyes widened very slightly. He knew it was no idle threat. The last time he had ignored that warning he hadn't been allowed to escape Patton's hug for a full minute.

Terrifying.

Virgil shuffled his feet. "'m good."

"Great!" Patton exclaimed before opening his arms. "Now, can also get a hug from one of my favorite kids?"

"You're laying this on thick." Virgil mumbled before nodding his head at the container still in Patton's hand. "Are those cookies?"

"Yep!"

Virgil found himself very willing to submit to the hug in exchange for cookies. Patton didn't try to put up a fight as Virgil snatched it from him. He turned his attention to Logan instead. "And my other favorite not-son?"

"Adequate." Logan replied. He raised an eyebrow when Patton re-opened his arms. "Unlike my easily bribed brother, I do not fall to simple cookies."

"Do you fall if they're Crofter's cookies?"

"...You're playing dirty." Logan said, but his attention was clearly now caught by the treat Virgil was munching on. Patton's smile only grew when Logan glared to the side but still shuffled over, pretending he didn't maintain the hug for longer than the three second minimum before claiming his own cookie.

"My, my, you really are smitten, aren't you?"

"Please, for the love of my love, never assume I am anything less. Patton deserves no less."

"Well he's definitely batting twenty-twenty at the moment. Great with kids and clearly beautiful. Considerin' we got another good fifty seconds here, I'm sure there's something else you'd like to enlighten us on about your dearest?"

Roman smiled as well as he came to stand next to Patton. "Little sugar addicts." He said lovingly. "So easily won over. Isn't that right, Lo-lo?"

Logan briefly glanced up from what was already his third cookie. "Never call me that ever again."

"You let Patton call you that!"

"Patton brought cookies." Virgil answered for Logan.

"Well, I make you cookies, too!" Roman protested.

"Burnt ones don't count."

Roman pouted, and Patton giggled. "Come on, Ro, I'll teach you how to bake your way into their hearts."

"I'm not sure that's possible." Roman responded. "They're ungrateful."

"And he's REALLY bad at baking."

Roman pointed at Virgil. "See! Point proven."

Patton seemed even more amused. "Well, I'll teach you how to bake your way into my heart instead, then." He offered with a little wink, grabbing Roman's hand and innocently pulling him into the kitchen like he wasn't going to be the literal death of Roman.

"Everything. I could tell you about everything. He's too wonderful. And so kind. He's sweeter than a sugar high. Mischievous as an imp, though. But if any of the Fates still favor me, he's my imp."

Patton only released Roman's hand once they were both in the kitchen, quickly shifting through the pantries for the ingredients he'd need. Roman leaned against one of the counters as casually as he could while he was being useless.

"As much as I adore the idea of pretending I have a chance at baking, I know a diversion when I see one." Roman commented idly. "Any reason you needed to get away from the troublemakers?"

"I don't know what you're suggesting, sweetie." Patton replied, tone much too innocent. "I just want to bake with you! And you know what I love to do while I bake?"

"Talk to people?" Roman suggested as he pointed out the cupboard that held their bowls.

"That too! But when there's no one around, I like to listen to the radio!"

"I can already hear the choir boys singing. I know earlier you said you were nowhere near thinking about marriage, but I mean... you two seem very close. How long have you been dating? A year? Two?"

"Heh, well, technically we're not dating- considering we haven't actually gone on a date yet."

"...I'm going to have Dave give us another minute because sweetheart I must have misheard you. Not a date? Not a single one? About this man you seem willing to die for?"

"Well we have been together for six months! We're just so busy with work... we never have time for a proper date!"

Roman, oblivious, hummed in interest. "If you want, I can turn it on now-"

"No, I've got you right now, silly." Patton replied lightheartedly as he started measuring out flour, his tongue sticking out just the slightest in his concentration. Roman tried not to melt at the sight. "I was just saying that I was listening to it last night while I was baking!"

"Baking at night? And here I thought you were the responsible one."

Patton shrugged with a grin. "Couldn't sleep! And you know what they say..."

"Sweetness, I am always thinking about you. I doubt that's what was keeping you up."

Patton shot Roman a special smile that suggested a type of trickery he didn't understand before he went back to his measuring. "Maybe." He said simply before pushing on. "The music station I was listening to kept having interruptions, but that was alright. I liked listening to the people talk. Maybe you've heard of the segment- it's called the Sleepless Hour?"

Roman froze.

"Take my suggestion, hun- schedule time for one. Because as it stands, your man is either a literal angel... or you're just crazy."

"Trust me, it's both."

"So I can tell, given that, from what I've heard tonight, I doubt you dislike a single thing about this Patton."

"Oh, there is one thing I dislike about him."

"Ooooh, spill the tea, sis. Let's here perfect boy's one flaw."

"I, uh... nope. Never heard of it."

"Huh. That's odd." Patton commented, feigning casual indifference. "Considering I could have sworn I heard you on it last night."

"I... you must've mistaken voice."

"Oh, I'd never mistake a voice that indescribably pretty."

Roman sighed as melodramatically as he could manage. "Alright, you've caught me! It was late, and I was craving some proper music, unlike what the heathens had been playing. Sue me for calling in a request-"

"Oh, you were most certainly not just calling in a music request." Patton stopped him before he could continue.

"...I'll take it you actually heard more than just the very end of what I said?"

"I heard every word.”

"...Listen, I was a little drunk, you can't really take everything I said at face value-"

"One flaw, right?"

Roman looked away from Patton, scratching at the back of his neck. "Please tell me you heard even five seconds past that part."

Barely a moment later, Roman saw the blur of light blue and grey suddenly rush at him, wrapping around him and snuggling into his neck within a second. "I meant it when I said every word, love."

"Patton's one flaw is that he's not in my arms right this minute."

Roman only took a moment to collect himself before he hugged Patton back, easily pressing a kiss into Patton's curls before resting his chin on top of them.

"Much better."

"It is." Patton agreed.

"I'm sorry I sleep-drunk ranted about you and your perfection on late night radio."

"It's alright." Patton said, smiling into Roman's neck. "It was sweet. Though it was very rude of you to say all those nice things and be out of cuddling range."

"If I had been in cuddling range I would have just told you all of those things and cut out the middleman."

Patton hummed. "Is it too soon to move in?"

"With no dates under our belts?" Roman said before laughing. "Virgil and Logan would rat us out to Mr. Crescent."

"But I just want you to always be in cuddling range."

"Soon, dearheart, I promise." Roman said fondly. "For now, however, we should probably finish making our cookies so that I might pretend I can win over the favor of my children from you."

"But then I'll have to let go of you." Patton whined. "And I don't wanna."

Roman smiled as he moved on his hands, slowly rubbing calming circles into Patton's back. "You don't have to let go just yet."

"Aren't you just the biggest sap this side of the Mississippi."

"I should hope to be."

"Well, I wish you two the best of luck with your no-dates dating. Dave says I have to wrap it up here, but I'd feel bad if I didn't ask you if you had a song request in mind?"

"Nah. I'm just here to make sure everyone knows I'll never love another man as much as I love Patton."

"I think we got the message loud and clear, sugar. Still lovely to chat with you. I'll see if I can't find somethin' that's got the right tune for you two."

Whether or not the radio was on didn't matter, because the song Remy had put on last night was no longer playing, but that was alright. They had still heard it, even if separately, and the sentiment still echoed even without sound. Maybe they hadn't actually called each other last night, but that was alright too. There would be plenty of chances for it in the future.

I Just Called to Say I Love You plays

#I wrote this when I should have been working on Logan's b-day fic because I'm a mess #but I'm told it came out quite fluffy so worth it #royality #ts roman #ts patton #ts virgil #ts logan #ts remy #ts sleep #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sander sides

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nexstage · 5 years ago

Text

Starless

Larimar, Snowflake, and Centi: Can someone understand me?

Corruption.

For many people, it means the process by which something, typically a word or expression, is changed from its original use or meaning to one that is regarded as erroneous or debased.

However, for the gems like little Larimar, Snowflake, Centi and many others who suffered by the hands of the Diamonds that fateful day during the war, it meant two words: pain and confusion.

Ok, so that's an understatement because unless you're a gem, you can't get how it felt. Many things confused and/or upset people no matter how insignificant they were after all.

But the Corruption Attack, being corrupted, THAT was a whole, another story.

There were no words to describe it and, honestly, it's not that the healed gems were going to write an essay about what was the most traumatic moment of their quasi-immortal lives. Still, if someone asked them, they would have the same idea: it was like being swallowed by a hell made of confusion and pain.

Not that gems knew what hell was, but that explanation was enough for them to illustrate their trauma. After all, when your light form is twisted by a blinding blast and your mind wakes up with the sole programming of attacking and tearing everything apart as if you were going to die if you didn't do it, then it's understandable that the only concept of being corrupted is that one: being messed up endlessly.

No one was there to help you, no one was there to calm you down, there was no escape. Your body didn't felt like it was yours anymore, it was more from a beast.

The worst part was the mind.

Before the Corruption, a gem knew what to do and whom to follow. A gem knew who she was. After it happened, nothing made sense anymore.

It was an agglomeration of scrambled words, feelings, memories, and sensations that forced themselves to fit with the other creating a chaotic image, the only guide when you were corrupted.

A gem tried to make sense of it, but the mind of a beast had its limits and that's when the pain came to the picture.

It was a void where the word 'Lost' reigned ruthlessly. The corrupted ones could resort to their claws and fangs, to their strength and agility, to that animalistic nature that had replaced their calculating minds; however, it didn't last against others who were luckier than them for not being corrupted and for having better plans to deal with the unfortunate ones.

Too many aspects that were new for the gems when they came to Earth, before the Corruption, became utterly terrifying and overwhelming. They couldn't remember, and the feelings of helplessness and frustration hurt them more, made them snap and get attacked and bubbled which was worse.

Just with a single attack, any spark of hope left them.

But then, Steven came to the picture too.

The kid who, for the corrupted ones, was just another enemy or prey of their claws, and still he decided to face the fearsome Diamonds so they could be healed.

That sweet little human with gem powers who was looking for a solution so they could get back their lives and not suffer anymore.

It was because of him that they could live peacefully, and while some of them went back to Homeworld and slowly adjusted to the changes of a dismantled empire, the others -Crystal Gems and gems who wanted to start a new life on Earth- stayed on the planet to learn new things. Still, all of them had one thing in common: their absolute gratitude and respect towards Steven Universe.

And therefore, it was a huge and terrible surprise for Centi to be told that his little friend, his savior, had disappeared with his car to an unknown place.

It was supposed to be a surprise visit and some time hanging out with Steven, catching up and know if things were ok with him on Earth. However, when she and her crew received the news about his sudden departure, they couldn't believe it.

At first, Centi thought it was just a short journey Steven had to realize for some errand or another reason, her denial being strong enough to put her worst fears aside concerning the boy's well-being.

Everything collapsed, though, after a very somber explanation.

Steven wasn't doing ok. In fact, both the Crystal Gems and his 'dad' - as the human called Greg referred to himself- had noticed, pretty late, unfortunately, some unhealthy and worrying patterns of behavior in Steven that got worse until the last straw came, the cactus incident.

Centi's mind was divided in two. On one hand, she wanted to blame her former enemies due to their incompetence that led Steven to ran away from Beach City to stars-knows-where. The glares and open hostility on her part towards the Crystal Gems were very clear signals of that. On the other hand, she felt compelled to act, although impulsively, almost going to Homeworld to call the Diamonds to find Steven.

One of the Crystal Gems, the Pearl, stopped her by telling her that the Diamonds would cause a big scandal because not all Earth had getting used to see and interact with gems. And if Steven found out, he would freak out.

So, now she was in the center of Little Homeworld, accompanied not only by her crew but also two former Crystal Gems: a Larimar and a Snowflake Obsidian.

Before all this mess, she wouldn't imagine interacting with former enemies. However, the war was over, all the corrupted gems were healed and living their own lives, and bringing Steven back was the goal in common for her, her crew and those Crystal Gems.

What was most surprising, though, was how understanding they were at her worries despite her initial distrust at them.

"You know, when I was a mindless monster I thought deep down that I would never get back my life. But Steven gave me another chance and here I am, now. And yeah, Pearl and the other Crystal Gems are my friends and I don't like it when someone is mad at them, but I get it. Steven is truly important for all of us. If it weren't for him, we would still be monsters"

The Larimar, Little Larimar as she called herself, nodded at her friend's words "Steven helped me to find my purpose. And that is making others happy, especially human children. I don't know what kind of purpose do you have now that the war is over, but whatever it is, it must be really treasured by you because Steven gave you a chance to find it. Someone like him is so difficult to find these days and a big blessing"

"Yeah, he is" Centi agreed and even her crew members nodded at that "At first he attacked me because he saw me as a threat. But, the second time we met, he was so kind to me. He listened to me when I told him what happened before the Corruption"

"He even faced the Diamonds to bring us back" a nephrite of the crew intervened sadly.

"He might be a Crystal Gem, but he sees all the gems as equals and helps them no matter what", another nephrite said while clutching her left arm anxiously.

"Everyone here is in debt with Steven, and even if he would have never accepted us owing him so much because of how he is, we still need to do it. We have to"

And so, they started their own search.

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

If someone had told Larimar and Snowflake that looking for a human on a planet full of humans was going to be difficult or almost impossible, they would have ignored them.

As veteran Crystal Gems, both only knew one thing, and that was that action and determination could lead you anywhere. Whether it was war or any other project, if you don't have the guts to make it true, then it's useless to keep going. However, as days went by, the two gems came to the conclusion that just a strong resolve wasn't enough to find someone.

No clues, no handprints not even a single note. Steven really wanted to not be found.

"What kind of places should we list to start?" asked Centi to one of them, Larimar to be exact.

As surreal as it sounded, despite the bad blood between Crystal Gems and Homeworld Gems, both Snowflake and Larimar could befriend Centi and her crew while looking for Steven.

So, maybe it was because all of them were corrupted and saved by him because they cared about him because Steven befriended them and helped them to adjust to a new era. Maybe those were the only reasons to make a team with former enemies. However, with time they started to bond over other things like what they liked, how they were finding themselves without wars or Diamonds' orders around, their opinions about Era 3, trivialities. Anything that crossed their minds.

Just like that, differences stopped existing between each other, and yeah, at first they wondered why but then it became obvious: there were others whose experiences you could relate to, even if they were Homeworld Gems.

That single realization gave Larimar an idea "Guys, did anyone know how Steven was doing?" that question froze everyone's work. Seconds of silence turned into minutes due to a deep reflection.

"He wouldn't have left if someone knew he wasn't ok, wouldn't he?" a Nephrite said, but she didn't sound that sure.

"I think this isn't about if someone knew how Steven was doing, it was more about if they could understand how he felt" Snowflake's opinion got everyone nodding. It made sense, after what they had heard of how Steven was behaving, it felt as if he was isolating himself because there was no one who could comprehend what he was going through.

"I still remembered when I corrupted," Centi said somberly "I felt so lost and alone. Even with my crew at my side, I didn't know if this torment would end. Steven still tried and listened to me. I didn't feel so lonely after that"

"Did he have someone to do the same for him?" another member of Centi's crew asked concerned.

A heavy silence made itself present as the answer.

It was worrying as much as it was tragic.

How long would have Steven gone through that? Giving his ears and shoulders to anyone who needed them but finding a lack of support despite the love everyone gave him.

Then another more confusing question came, is love enough to prevent events like this from happening? But if it were so simple as that, Steven would still be here and ok.

"What if Steven is looking for someone like him?" Larimar's question was strange and their raised eyebrows demanded an explanation.

"We can understand each other because we know how terrifying it was the Corruption Attack or be corrupted. He may be feeling scared for some reason but no one can see it in his way"

"A human with gem powers, that is unique indeed" Snowflake pensive expression then turned into a scowl "I don't think his sudden journey is going to be successful. Never before has been someone like Steven. A mix of human and gem. Garnet told me it was like a fusion"

"Instead of searching another hybrid between human and gem, he might be looking for people who have enough ears and shoulders that he can rely on"

"We can give him that" a Nephrite intervened by showing her shapeshifting abilities to multiply her shoulders "There will be enough and even more for him to pick"

"I think it goes beyond the number" Larimar sat in a rock in the middle of the huge Strawberry Battlefield.

Even when the war was over, the air still felt heavy and bitter in the area. The screams, the clash of weapons, pieces of cracked and shattered gems covering the ground, the sky the color of blood.

Larimar hoped, really hoped, that Steven wasn't here hiding because this place, despite being calm and beautiful now, only harbored dark memories and feelings.

Perhaps that's how Steven was doing right now. Trying to keep a bravado or smile to everyone, even if inside of him there was a raged storm.

And no one better than him could get that sensation, but Steven didn’t want himself to understand him, he wanted another person.

"Larimar, something on your mind?" Snowflake put a comforting hand on her shoulder, encouraging her kindly to tell her what's wrong.

"Is it enough for someone to just have themselves?"

That was a very philosophical question. And no, Snowflake didn't know what to answer.

"Care to elaborate?"

"I mean, when we were corrupted we were scared, hurt and confused. We didn't have anyone, we couldn't remember who we were. If it weren't for Steven it would have been worse. So, how can someone be understood or feel like they're being listened if having themselves isn't even enough?"

"Honestly, I don't know. But we had the chance to be listened, to be helped. Steven gave us that chance"

"It's time for us to return the favor" Centi, who hadn't been that far away from the two gems, approached them after hearing what they were saying.

"We'll listen to him as long as he wants," another Nephrite said, determinedly.

"We can be those shoulders he lacked"

"Because we know how it feels to be lost and terrified"

"We'll try as hard as possible. He deserves it. He needs it"

Resolution ran through their bodies as if it were blood coursing through veins. Whether Steven was finding someone else to understand him or finding himself, once they found his savior, they will help him by being by his side.

That single step wouldn't be enough but it would be the way to make Steven see that people got his back.

#Steven Universe Future #Post-Prickly Pair episode #Angst #Friendship #Little Larimar #Snowflake #centipeetle #Centi's crew #Hurt/Comfort #Feelings

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khicken121 · 6 years ago

Text

Overwatch: Oni x Goddess AU (Gency)

Vinni drew. Vinni shipped. I wrote.

Is that a meme? Whatever, pretty sure I butchered that...

ANywaaaaayyyy... @koshkavinni came up with this fabulous AU and let me write a quick one-shot for it. BLESS. THEM! This is probably one of my favorite Overwatch AUs, period.

Warnings: None

Characters: Genji Shimada, Angela “Mercy“ Ziegler

Other Tags: Oni!Genji, Goddess!Mercy, Fantasy Setting, Romance, Angst, Cliffhanger that won’t be resolved (by me at least *insert smiling devil emoji*

This isn’t beta’d, so any mistakes are on me.

-----

Genji was taught his whole life that his demonic nature was the only thing that has defined him, and will ever define him. That’s what’s been drilled into his head since childhood. Despite that philosophy never quite sitting well with him, he just kept quiet and pretended to accept it. For centuries he tried to defy it, but one way or another, the darkness caught up with him. He was about to embrace it for good when she came along.

She was his polar opposite. He was the embodiment of darkness, despair and misfortune while she was everything light, happy and nothing short of beautiful.

She was the Goddess of mercy. Her name was Angela

-----

He didn’t fall in love with her immediately, and nor did she with him. It took time, but they got there.

A friendship bloomed between them rather quickly. Especially for beings of light and dark. He slowly opened up to her, and she was always there to listen. When she learned of the darkness that inhabited the world in all corners, he was there to help her comprehend it. Both of them were young, and still had lots to learn about the mortal and immortal realms. Whatever obstacles they faced, they carried each other through it. No matter how many tears were shed, giggles and laughs spilled, neither let go of the other.

-----

The longer they spent together, the more darkness he sensed.

Her physical appearance didn’t change. Her magic wasn’t diminished. Her demeanor and personality never faltered either. Nonetheless, something was still very wrong.

Genji tried to hide it from her, and for a while he was successful. His white, red-fanged mask was off whenever her presence was near, but he kept an invisible mask on under it as well. Angela saw through both of them.

It was Genji’s greatest fear that the darkness that followed him would take her, too. It was always pushed deep down in his core, covered by the hope that she was his equal as much as his opposite. His balance, the yin to his yang, whatever someone might call it. Now it rose into his chest and left a burning sensation in his throat. He absolutely would not let anything give away his worry.

It became harder and harder every time he saw her. The darkness was stronger than he anticipated. The last thing he wanted was to make it worse, but he wasn’t sure what would make it worse or better. That was the only reason he refrained from stealing her kiss.

“Genji, is everything alright?“

“Yes, Angela, I’m fine.“

“But you’re crying.”

He swiftly wiped the dampness from his cheeks, but it was too late. Angela did the only thing she could think of to console him and immediately threw her arms around him and squeezed around his chest. Without thinking he wrapped his around her waist in return.

When she looked up to meet his gaze, the distance between their lips was already very short. Without asking, Genji closed it. If he was going to lose her, he would at least tell her how much she meant to him. Angela didn't mind.

She pressed back. Her hands moved from his back to the sides of his face to trace the red markings on his cheeks with her thumbs. His own hands moved to tangle with the feathers of her wings. The horror in his mind dimmed when she returned his kiss, but rose again when the feathers between his fingers were pulled with no resistance. Angela didn't feel them gone, either. In truth, she couldn't feel anything in the moment.

"Genji..." was what she managed to say before collapsing in his arms as if her legs turned to water. She went completely limp in his hold and he wasted no time in grasping her tighter to prevent her from falling. Tears began forming much quicker and falling in large beads. Her feathers fell at an accelerated rate around them, giving her wings a tattered appearance.

“Angela!” he shouted as he held on to a sliver of hope. Hope that she could hear him. Hope that he could pull her from the waiting jaws of the darkness before it fully consumed her. Hope that she would come back to him.

He cradled her body to his chest and rested her head in the crook of his neck. He shut his eyes as more tears kept running down his cheeks and over his markings. He murmured silent promises into her golden locks as her faint breaths faced across his neck. The warmth in her person was fading, and he wished that some way...

“She can be saved.”

The unfamiliar voice caused Genji to snap his gaze up. He was greeted by a tall woman with nearly ivory-hued skin. Her hair was a deep blue, and the crescent moon insignia on her forehead had the same colorization. There entire outfit was pitch black. Her large feathered wings invisible against the starless and moonless night. Her discolored eyes added a cynical touch to her sadistic expression. Genji immediately didn’t trust her, but still asked her to continue.

“H-How?” he choked out.

“Her soul is tainted,” the woman began. “Because of you, the darkness-”

“SHUT UP!” Genji bellowed. “I didn’t ask why, I only need to know how I can save her!”

“I intend to extract the darkness, Oni,” she hissed. “She’ll be free of the darkness, and I’ll even put a spell on her to prevent dark magic from entering her.”

Genji tightened his grip on the cool body in his grasp. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t, but you also don’t have much time left to decide.”

She was right. He didn’t have any other alternative.

“Why would you do this?”

“I have my reasons. Now, do we have a deal or not?”

A glowing piece of parchment appeared in front of him. His instincts creamed at him not to take this deal, but he’d do anything to have his goddess back.

His goddess.

“Yes,” he said grabbing the contract. It disappeared as soon as he touched it, and Angela became weightless. He let her go and she hovered in front of him. He expected her feathers to reattach themselves to her wings. He yearned to see her cheeks hold their pink tinge again. He’d do anything to gaze into the blue depth of her eyes again.

Of course, he should have known better.

Her white dress remained white, but it was... different. Her golden hair turned into a light lavender, and her crown of leaves was replaced by large black horns protruding from the side of her head, and curving upwards in a forward motion. Black markings lined her brow. A long, white tail snaked out from under her dress. Lastly, her wings, her beautiful wings no longer held soft feathers, but instead had a leathery texture and had a bright pink aura to them. When her transformation finished, she fell to the earth again, Genji lifted her head and placed it in his lap.

He was about to confront the dark-haired woman about what she did to the goddess. It was not part of the deal, and Angela certainly wouldn’t have asked for it. When he looked up, she had vanished without a sound or trace. Part of him wanted to find her and confront her, but he was distracted by Angela’s eyes shooting open with a sharp gasp coming from her mouth.

“Angela? Angela, can you hear me?”

Her eyes darted around for a few moments before meeting his gaze. Her irises were a soft blue, but something was wrong. They didn’t hold the sparkle he was used to. In fact, her entire face was unreadable. Genji didn’t know whether he should be relieved or concerned.

But she was alive. Angela was alive! Before he let his mind form any second thoughts, he bent down to her level and wrapped one arm around her middle and one around her neck.

He felt a soft pushing against his chest, and he let her go.

“Genji, what are you doing?”

She let out a soft groan in pain and grabbed her head with one of her hands. It was faint, but her eyes flickered from blue to soft pink and back to blue. “What happened? Why were you hugging me?”

His heart dropped and the lump in his throat grew larger. Somewhere, in that body, his goddess still lives. Her eyes still look back at him, despite being trapped in that body. She could be saved.

No matter what it takes. He will get Angela back.

-----

And that’s all! This was so much fun to make! (In case it wasn’t very clear, Moon Moira is the dark angel that made the deal with Genji and Angela became Imp Mercy.) Don’t forget to check out Vinni’s art for the AU!

#Overwatch #Gency #Gency Fic #Overwatch Fic #Genji Shimada #Angela Ziegler #Story by me #Concept by koshkavinni #omg this was so much fun to write #I love these two #ahhhh #Next time: an oni x zhuque gency fic for ********#sorry guys its a secret #unless mcsombra week comes around before I finish it #then it'll be a mcsombra shortfic #i have like 5 wips #rip

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thecinephale · 7 years ago

Text

Best Movies of 2017

I’m so excited that many of the great films this year did so well at the box office and are such a big part of the awards conversation. I’m grateful that every year brings great works of cinema, but it’s even better when a bunch of people actually get to see them.

This is the first year I’m not counting miniseries. The lines are becoming too blurred between TV and film and also nobody needs me to say again how much I love Jane Campion and Top of the Lake: China Girl.

Still need to see: All the Money in the World, Berlin Syndrome, Graduation, Happy End, In the Fade, Loveless, Lovesong, Prevenge, Princess Cyd, Professor Marston and the Wonder Women, A Quiet Passion, Slack Bay, Staying Vertical, Thelma, Woodshock

If your favorite movie isn’t on this list maybe I didn’t see it because a sexual predator was involved or maybe it was just a really crowded year with a lot of really good movies!

Honorable Mentions: -Battle of the Sexes (dir. Valerie Faris and Jonathan Dayton) -The Beguiled (dir. Sofia Coppola) -Call Me By Your Name (dir. Luca Guadagnino) -Colossal (dir. Nacho Vigalondo) -Columbus (dir. Kogonada) -A Fantastic Woman (dir. Sebastian Lelio) -Good Time (dir. Josh and Benny Safdie) -Landline (dir. Gillian Robespierre) -Lemon (dir. Janicza Bravo) -Logan Lucky (dir. Steven Soderbergh) -Parisienne (dir. Danielle Arbid) -Phantom Thread (dir. Paul Thomas Anderson) -Wonder Woman (dir. Patty Jenkins)

15. Planetarium (dir. Rebecca Zlotowski)

The first two movies on this list got fairly bad reviews so take my opinions as you will. And I get why many struggled with this film. Not only is it dealing with a wide swath of issues, but it’s also doing so with a variety of different tools. It dabbles in the occult, but it’s not a horror movie. It’s a period piece, but feels of the present. It suggests romance, suggests betrayal, suggests familial tension, yet… But here’s what’s great. It’s gorgeous. With some of the best cinematography of the year (Georges Lechaptois), some of the best production design of the year (Katia Wyszkop), and easily the best costumes of the year (Anaïs Romand) it’s compulsively watchable. Combine that with Natalie Portman’s incredibly grounding performance and I was more than willing to go along with Zlotowski as she explored the history of images, the power of images, and the danger of images without committing to a conventional structure.

14. It’s Only the End of the World (dir. Xavier Dolan)

I don’t know how anyone could love Dolan’s other films and dislike this one. It’s such a perfect embodiment of Dolan’s career thus far. Dolan’s films are operatic because he understands that for individuals their problems are operatic. Pretty much every family has conflict, disagreements, scars, but that can’t be dismissed so easily when they are OUR conflicts, OUR disagreements, OUR scars. I love how much respect Dolan always has for that truth. The cast is filled with French cinema royalty and they fully live up to the material’s grounded melodrama.

13. The Lure (dir. Agnieszka Smoczynska)

There’s one key reason this vampiric Polish horror-musical retelling of The Little Mermaid works in a way that other adaptations fall short. Sure, the sheer audacity of that genre mashup makes for a fascinating and unique viewing experience. But what ultimately makes it work emotionally and thematically is that it’s about two mermaids. This was always intended as the initial concept was a horror-less, mermaid-less musical about the Wrońska Sisters (who wrote all the songs in this). But still Smoczynska and her screenwriter Robert Bolesto really manage to keep all that’s wonderful about the source material while contextualizing its complexity. I’ve softened on the Disney version over the years, but it still can be painful watching Ariel change herself for a man (especially when one of those changes is not speaking). Here the presence of her sister, sometimes judging, always worried, creates a circumstance that allows this film’s “little mermaid” to make the realistic mistakes of a teen girl in love with a boy and in hate with herself, without the filming giving its seal of approval. There’s no judgment one way or the other. It’s just real. All that aside this is a vampiric Polish horror-musical retelling of The Little Mermaid. Like, come on. Go buy the Criterion edition!!

12. The Rehearsal (dir. Alison Maclean)

This is the only film on this list that isn’t available to watch. I was lucky enough to see it at the New York Film Festival two years ago, then it had a one week run at Metrograph, then nothing. The real shame is that this isn’t some avant-garde headscratcher to be watched in university classrooms and backroom Brooklyn bars. This is a deeply humanistic, very accessible movie that almost demands wide conversation. And given its setting at an acting conservatory I especially wish all the actors in my life could watch it. Well, hopefully it pops up on some streaming site someday. But until then check out this early Alison Maclean short film that’s equally wonderful albeit wildly different in tone (this one is more like feminist Eraserhead): Kitchen Sink (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lt58gDgxy9Q&t=1s).

11. Novitiate (dir. Margaret Betts)

The history of cinema is a history of queer subtext. But it’s 2017 and while it may be fun to speculate whether Poe Dameron is gay and I’d be the first to say “Let It Go” is a perfect coming out anthem, it’s no coincidence that the best queer allegories of the year ALSO had explicitly queer characters. This film in particular is so special because it’s both the story of a young woman’s repressed sexuality and a story about how faith of all things is comparable to said sexuality. Sister Cathleen’s mother does not understand her affinity for Jesus the way many parents do not understand their children’s sexuality or gender. While coming out stories are a staple of very special sitcom episodes, I’ve never seen one that captures the pained misunderstanding the way this film does. Part of this is due to wonderful performances by Julianne Nicholson and Margaret Qualley and part of it is that religion is oddly the perfect stand-in for queerness… even as it represses queerness within this world. The movie begins with a series of flashbacks that feel stilted and conventional in a way that’s totally incongruous with the rest of the movie. It’s unfortunate because otherwise this would’ve been even higher on my list. But this is Betts’ first film and the majority of it is really special. And while I do think she’ll make even better films in what will hopefully be a long career, this one is still really worth checking out. I mean, I haven’t even brought up Melissa Leo’s frightening and absurd (yet somehow grounded?) performance that makes Meryl Streep in Doubt look like Amy Adams in Doubt.

10. The Florida Project (dir. Sean Baker)

As marketing extraordinaire A24 has managed to spread this film to a wider audience, they’ve made a lot of fuss about this film’s political depiction of Florida’s “hidden homeless,” Baker’s approach of mixing professional and non-professional actors (shout-out to Bria Vinaite who deserves as much awards attention as Willem Dafoe), and how the film “feels like a documentary.” And while I’m glad this strategy has worked, I tend to balk at the tendency of marketers and critics alike to call any movie with characters who aren’t all rich and/or white “like a documentary.” But regardless of its realism which I feel in no position to comment on, it’s certainly a great film about childhood and fantasy and how sometimes it’s easier to be a parent to everyone except your own kids. And not to build it up too much if you haven’t already seen it, but the ending is truly one of the best endings in recent years, not only in and of itself, but how it contextualizes and deepens everything that came before.

9. Whose Streets? (dir. Sabaah Folayan)

This is an exceptionally well-constructed film. I feel like most documentaries in this style have great moments but show a lack of restraint in the editing room and/or struggle to find a clear narrative. But this film moves along at an exceptional pace while still feeling comprehensive. Every sequence feels essential even when the scope expands beyond the two central individuals. This can be credited in part to the editing, but the succinctness wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for the footage captured. The intimate moments we’re able to watch are stunning and enhance the already high stakes of the surrounding film, the ongoing narrative of the country. This is an essential reminder of the humanity behind activism, the sacrifice behind news stories, and that for many people political engagement is not something to do with an open Sunday afternoon but a necessary part of survival.

8. Their Finest (dir. Lone Scherfig)

Easily the best Dunkirk-related film of the year, this is the rare movie about movies that doesn’t feel self-satisfied, but instead truly captures the joy of cinema and storytelling. It’s odd to me that romantic melodrama, a genre so celebrated when it comes to classic film, is often written off as fluff in contemporary cinema. Yes, this movie is romantic. Yes, this movie is wildly entertaining. But it’s also painful, it’s also telling a story of women screenwriters we haven’t heard before, it’s also showing how powerful art can be as an escape and a mirror in difficult times. If you’re interested in filmmaking and/or British people, check this out on Hulu. Gemma Arterton is really wonderful and Sam Claflin is good eye candy if you’re into that sort of thing.

7. Starless Dreams (dir. Mehrdad Oskouei)

This documentary about a group of teenage girls living in an Iranian “Correctional and Rehabilitation Center” is proof that sometimes the best approach to the medium is simplicity. Oskouei pretty much just lets the girls talk. But it’s truly a testament to his abilities as a filmmaker (and person) and the girls’ vulnerability and storytelling prowess that the movie remains compelling throughout. As the girls tell their stories it becomes clear that the center isn’t simply a prison, but also almost a utopic escape from the daily horrors they faced outside. Both options are so completely insufficient when compared to the lives these young women deserve this realization is enraging. And while the film takes place in Iran it doesn’t require a lot of effort to realize young women have similar stories and circumstances all over the world. This movie is on iTunes and I really, really recommend checking it out. The subject matter is heavy, but because the girls are allowed to determine the narrative it never feels maudlin or unbearable and at times is even quite funny and joyous.

6. Raw (dir. Julia Ducournau)

I really appreciated how Marielle Heller’s The Diary of a Teenage Girl captured the all-consuming lust of teenagehood. So, um, think that movie, except cannibalism. A lot of cannibalism. I feel torn between being honest about how truly gross this movie can be and pretending otherwise because I really don’t want to scare anyone away. I’ll put it this way. It’s really, really worth it to watch this through your fingers if you even maybe think you could handle it. Because it’s just a really great movie about being a teenage girl, discovering sexuality, being away from home for the first time, having a sister, having a first crush, a first sexual experience, feeling completely out of control of your desires and needs. Hey, even Ducournau insists this isn’t a horror movie. So don’t eat anything beforehand, but definitely check this out.

5. Get Out (dir. Jordan Peele)

I hardly need to add any analysis to what has easily been the most talked about and written about movie of the year. But I just need to say that it makes me so happy that a socially aware horror movie (the best subset of my favorite genre) not only made a huge amount of money but is also considered an awards frontrunner. That is so wonderfully baffling to me and a testament to the greatness of this movie. Many great horror movies capitalize on people’s fear of otherness, but those who are othered in our society are much more likely to be victims than villains. That Peele managed to show this without ever feeling like he was exploiting real pain is truly an accomplishment. The tonal balance this film achieves is certainly something I’ll study when I make a horror movie writing back to Psycho, The Silence of the Lambs, Sleepaway Camp, etc.

4. Faces Places (dir. Agnès Varda, JR)

Agnès Varda has spent her entire career blending fact and fiction, opening up her own life for her art. But there’s something different about this film which is likely to be her last. While so much of her work places her vivacious spirit front and center this film feels almost like a cry of humanity. Oddly enough I’d compare it to Mike Leigh’s Happy-Go-Lucky in that it seems to say, “Don’t fetishize my happiness, don’t mock my joy, don’t infantilize me, just because you can’t enjoy life like I can.” I look to Varda as the kind of artist (and person) I want to be in how open she always seems to be. But what this film made me realize is that part of that openness is how sad she can be, how angry she can be. Varda is often called “the grandmother of the French New Wave.” I guess this is the only way the film community knows how to contextualize a woman being the one to start arguably the most influential film movement. Varda is the same age as all those guys! She’s not the grandmother! She just happened to make a bold, experimental film about five years ahead of the rest of them. By ending with Godard, and pairing up with JR who is basically an incarnation of Godard and friends as young men, Varda is really exploring her place in film history and the world, and how difficult it is to be to be a pioneer. No country has more contemporary films directed by women than France and this is in a large part due to Varda. But being the one to create that path is exhausting. I realize I’m making what’s easily the most life-affirming, humanist film of the year sound like an angry, self-eulogy, but I think this aspect of the film and Varda’s career should not be ignored. If you’ve never seen anything by Varda, this film will read very differently, but still be wonderful (and honestly more joyous). I recommend seeing it, watching 20 of her other films, and then seeing it again.

3. The Shape of Water (dir. Guillermo del Toro)

The trailer for this film shows the main character, Elisa played by the always wonderful Sally Hawkins, doing her daily routine. Alarm, shining shoes, being late to work, etc. But even the redband trailer leaves out one of her daily activities: masturbating. Maybe it’s odd to associate masturbation with ambition, but the choice to show that early on and then repeatedly seems like a perfect microcosm of why this film is so great. It’s not afraid. Guillermo del Toro has made a wonderful career out of celebrating “the other” through monster movie pastiches, but this to me is his very best film because of how willing it is to be both clear and complicated. This movie is many things, but one of those things is a queer love story. And even though human woman/amphibian man sex is maybe even more taboo to show on screen than say eating a semen filled peach, this movie just goes for it. I’m not sure if this movie succeeds in everything it tries to do but I so deeply admire how much it tries. Not only is one of Elisa’s best friends gay, but we spend a significant amount of time getting to know that character and see that maybe his obsolete career hurts him even more. Not only is Elisa’s other best friend black, but we see how being a black woman affects her specifically in what is expected of her versus her husband. Fantasy and sci-fi often use real people’s struggles as source material for privileged protagonists, and while this film certainly does that, it works because the real people are still shown on screen. Also del Toro is a master of cinematic craft so this is really a pleasure to watch.

2. Lady Bird (dir. Greta Gerwig)

Before diving into this specific film it’s worth noting that this is one of six debut features on this list. It’s so exciting that we’re hopefully going to get full and illustrious careers from all of these people. But when it comes to Gerwig it feels like we already have. She has been proof that if the film community is going to insist on holding onto the auteur theory, they at least need to acknowledge that actors and writers can be auteurs. Gerwig is known for being quirky, but this really sells her talent short. She is clearly someone who has a deep understanding of cinema and, more importantly, a deep understanding of people. Part of being a great director is casting great actors and then trusting them and it’s so clear that’s what happened on this film (let me just list off some names: Saoirse Ronan, Laurie Metcalf, Lucas Hedges, Tracy Letts, Stephen McKinley Henderson, Lois Smith, I mean come on). They really make her wonderful script come alive. This is a great movie about female friendship and a great movie about mother-daughter relationships, but more than anything it’s a great movie about loving and hating a hometown. Even though I’ve only seen the film twice I think back on moments in the film like I do my own adolescent memories. They feel familiar even when I don’t directly relate to them. This movie feels big in a way only a small movie can.

1. Mudbound (dir. Dee Rees)

This is when my penchant for hyperbole really comes back to bite me in the ass. I use the word masterpiece way too much. But when I say Mudbound is a masterpiece I don’t just mean it’s a great movie I really loved that I recommend everyone see. I mean, it’s The Godfather. It’s Citizen Kane. It’s the rare movie that has a perfect script, perfect cinematography, perfect performances, is completely of its time, and will stand the test of time. If we ever get to a place where art by black women is justly celebrated it will be in the 2070 AFI top 10. It’s that good. Part of what sets the movie apart is its almost absurd ambition. It breaks so many movie rules (not only does it have heavy narration, but it has heavy narration from multiple characters), and yet it always works. I love small movies, I love weird and flawed movies, but there is something so spectacular about watching something like Dee Rees’ third feature. I’m so excited to watch this movie again, to study it, to spend a lifetime with it. I feel like it really got lost in the shuffle by being released on Netflix, but that also means right now it’s on Netflix and you, yes YOU, almost certainly have or have access to Netflix. So you could watch it. Right now. Watch it. Stop reading. Turn the lights off. Find the biggest TV or computer screen you have so you can really appreciate Rachel Morrison’s cinematography and watch it. It is perfection wrapped in a bow of perfection and I really must insist you watch it.

Television!

Still Need to Catch Up On: The Girlfriend Experience (S2), Queen Sugar (S2)

Honorable Mentions: -Big Little Lies -Broad City (S3) -Girls (S6) -Insecure (S2) -Master of None (S2) -One Mississippi (S2) -Orange is the New Black (S5) -Search Party (S2) -Shots Fired

10. Twin Peaks: The Return 9. Jane the Virgin (S3/4) 8. Transparent (S4) 7. Better Things (S2) 6. I Love Dick 5. The Good Place (S1/2) 4. Sense8 (S2) 3. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (S2/3) 2. Top of the Lake: China Girl 1. The Leftovers (S3)

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allodoxaphobiawritesshit · 7 years ago

Text

Tiffany Blews

Tiffany Blews I'm not a cry baby I'm the cry baby A caterpillar that got stuck Mr. Moth come quick with any luck … Not the boy I was The boy I am is just venting, venting Dear gravity, you held me down in this starless city

Shikamaru was a genius.

He wasn't patting himself on the back, he was just stating facts. Had he been given the choice, he would have been born with average smarts. It was a lot harder to get through life doing the bare minimum when people knew you had an IQ over two hundred. They expected you to do more and use your "vast knowledge" for good. After he had been promoted to chuunin he had realized that people felt what he lacked in experience he could make up for with his intelligence. This resulted in him leading far more missions than he wanted. He also found himself being somewhat of an unofficial advisor/errand runner of the Hokage. He didn't understand it but he just chalked it up to another one of the cons of being labeled as "gifted". For all his genius, however, he couldn't comprehend his current situation. He was sitting up in his bed, messy hair out, in nothing but his sleeping shorts. In front of him sat his blonde team mate, Ino, her cheeks slightly red and her eyes averted.

"Could you..." Shikamaru started before clearing his throat slightly. "Could you repeat that?" The blonde huffed and rolled her eyes but repeated, though not much louder, her previous statement.

"I said: Shikamaru, I need you to have sex with me," Her eyes remained averted as she said this.

There was a pause in which Shikamaru politely gave his teammate time to correct or amend her statement.

She did not.

"Is this some kind of prank? Because you honestly could've waited until later in the day. How did you even get in here?" He asked and plopped back down in his bed, muttering something about troublesome women. This was way too early to be dealing with Ino's shenanigans. She had come in his room and woken him up at nine-thirty in the morning. Sure, he'd reluctantly woken up much earlier on many occasions but it was his day off. It was rare that he woke up before ten on his off days.

"No, this isn't a joke! This is serious! And your mom let me in. She was on her way out and I told her we were supposed to train today. She said to wake you up and give you a good ass kicking if you gave me any trouble. Which, honestly, you're not being very agreeable right now," Ino said and finally looked at him.

"Yeah, I bet if she knew what kind of ‘training’ you had in mind she'd kill both of us," Shikamaru muttered.

"Why aren't you taking me seriously?" The blonde demanded.

"Because there's no way you could be serious! What, you just woke up today and decided you were going to ask me to have sex with you? Who in their right mind would go along with that?" The shadow user retorted.

"Probably a lot of people, actually."

"...Alright, fair point. Most of those people didn't grow up together with you practically like siblings though," Shikamaru shot back.

"Gross. We're not related. You just made this a lot grosser. I hope you're proud of yourself. And this isn't out of the blue! There's a reason I'm asking you," Ino defended. Shikamaru sat back up and gave her an expectant look. "What? Oh. You want me to explain. Right.

Alright, listen, as you know the Shitenshin no Jutsu is very useful for information gathering so recently I've started taking on more and more surveillance missions. They want me to start moving up and one of the missions types you can be given is a 'seduction mission'," She actually used air quotes at this. "And, well, before I do that I need to, uh... not be a virgin anymore. I mean, the point of the mission usually isn't to have sex with anyone but, you know, anything could happen or go wrong. And that would be a very traumatizing way to lose my virginity.

So, I have to amend that whole 'being a virgin' thing before I can start taking on these missions. And even though I've dated around, I'm not actually seeing anybody and I really can't think of anyone else I trust enough to help me out like this." Ino stopped and took a breath. She was speaking so fast her air intake couldn't keep up. "I mean, you're my team mate and I've known you pretty much since we were babies. We were born only a day apart for goodness sake."

Shikamaru stared at her as his mind processed what she had told him. Finally he replied, "Well, Chouji's also your team mate..."

Ino simply stared blankly at him for a few moments. "Listen... I love Chouji. He's also my team mate, but you know as well as I do why I didn't ask Chouji."

Shikamaru felt he should be offended for his best friend, but he knew that the large boy probably wouldn't care. Chouji didn't really seem that interested in dating girls anyways. Not that the shadow user was any different. He almost wished he belonged to a clan that still practiced arranged marriages. That way he would be guaranteed to carry out his duty of continuing the Nara clan without all the effort of dating. Then again, that would also up the chances of him ending up with a really troublesome woman. Much like the woman before him.

"Alright Ino, don't take this the wrong way, but this is probably the worst idea you've ever had. I say this knowing that you have had quite a few bad ideas, but I mean it. Really." He laid back down and spared a glance in her direction.

"I'm not really seeing a positive way to take that. It almost would've been less offensive if you had said 'Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but you're a complete idiot'."

"Well-"

"I said 'almost'!" Ino cut the Nara boy off before he could amend his previous statement. “Look, I know this is sudden and you probably think I'm crazy but I didn't actually think you would agree right on the spot. Just think it over okay?” No response. “Shikamaru!”

“Alright, alright!” He called and covered his face with a pillow. He stayed this way until he finally heard the blonde get up and leave. He didn't fully relax until he heard the sound of his front door closing.

As if there was even anything to think about. It may be great to hear about Ino advancing as a ninja and of course he would help his team mates out any way he could. This was just unreasonable though. Shikamaru still wasn't even entirely convinced that this wasn't a prank. It sounded like something Naruto would come up with, but the shadow user dismissed that almost immediately. As close as they all were, Ino still thought Naruto was a pretty ridiculous person.

Shikamaru groaned and rolled out of bed to head to the bathroom. No use trying to sleep any longer. He really couldn't understand his blonde team mate. He knew she had dated plenty of guys even if none of them really lasted that long. She was obviously beautiful and if Shikamaru had any kind of interest in women he probably would've had a crush on her at some point. Probably very early on, before he realized how bossy and needy she was. Regardless, it wouldn't be difficult for her to find someone else to help her with her predicament. At the very least she could find someone she was attracted too. The shadow user was no fool, he knew that Ino's taste ran somewhere far away from him.

Shikamaru paused in his teeth brushing to spare a glance at the full length mirror in his bathroom. He was decently muscled despite his laziness. Being a ninja naturally kept one in shape, barring the Akimichi Clan. If he hadn't decided to follow in his father's footsteps he probably would've been pretty damn scrawny. He looked his reflection in the eyes and confirmed his thoughts. Despite not having a bad body, Shikamaru didn't have the face the girls fell for. Sharp eyes with a near constant look on his face that said “Don’t”. Even his hair spiked out in all directions when it wasn't tied back. Even then it just spiked upwards.

He turned back to the small mirror in front of the sink and resumed brushing his teeth. If he was the type that cared about attracting girls he could probably change the less desirable parts about him.

Fortunately he wasn't.

There was a brief period that everyone thought that he and Temari of the Sand had something going on, but they couldn't be more wrong. The last thing Shikamaru needed was a bossy woman that could also kick his ass. Not only that, she was the sister of the Kazekage. That was all more trouble than he needed in a lifetime. There would be times when she flirted with him, but it was clear that it wasn't because she was actually interested in him. It was more of a cure to her boredom while preparing for the Chuunin exams and he suspected she also liked trying to get a rise out of him.

Shikamaru finished brushing his teeth and, after a quick rinse of his face, walked back to his room. His mother probably didn’t leave any breakfast for him, having become used to him either not being there in the morning or waking up too late to eat it while it was hot. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t feel like making any himself.

Well, there were probably a few places open by now where he could get something to eat.

Changing into a T-shirt and pair of shorts, the shadow user pondered being able to wear civilian clothes out on the field. A nice cotton shirt was way more comfortable than the fishnet he normally wore. Then again, he supposed that was his own choice. It was too late to have wardrobe change now though, his closet was already committed.

“Come on, I just took that mission off your hands that you were too lazy to do!” Naruto whined across from Shikamaru.

“I wasn’t too lazy to do it, it overlapped with the other mission I had already been assigned. The Hokage was the one who made you take it,” Shikamaru retorted. Naruto didn’t seem to hear this and just continued on.

“I had to use all the money from my last mission on a deposit for a new apartment since my old building is about to get torn down!” The blond continued to look on with desperate eyes.

Shikamaru knew better than to go to Ramen Ichiraku when he wanted a quiet moment to himself. Naruto was there almost every day and he was anything but quiet. He did, however, make the mistake of being in the vicinity of the place. Now he had Naruto begging to buy him a meal… which was actually unusual now that he thought about it. Even with getting a new apartment, the blond had a pretty decent savings from what Shikamaru knew.

“What the hell happened to the rest of your money?” The brunette asked as he took another bite of his salmon.

“I was showing Sakura-chan a new jutsu when I was over her place the other day and it kind of got out of control and broke down one of her walls,” Naruto had the decency to look sheepish as he explained. He quickly added: “She broke down the other wall when she punched me though!”

Shikamaru winced, thinking of the monster strength the kunoichi possessed. He sighed, it’s not like he was tight on money anyway.

“Alright, but don’t get carried away,” The Nara boy muttered. Naruto let out a victory cheer and motioned the waitress over to put his order in. After he finished he turned back to his friend.

“What are you doing out this early on your day off anyway?” The blond asked as he reached over to grab Shikamaru’s water and take a gulp. Shikamaru made a face at him.

“I was woken up by Ino,” He replied.

“What’d she want?”

Shikamaru grimaced as he recalled his early morning conversation with his teammate.

“Nothing important. Just Ino being Ino.” In the sense of making unreasonable demands of people. She normally didn’t go around asking people to have sex with her. To his knowledge anyway. He kept this all to himself knowing that if the blond found out, all of Konoha would find out.

“Oh.” Naruto seemed to lose interest as soon as the waitress returned with his order. Shikamaru reached across the table to grab the cup of water she set down for the blond. Knowing the other boy’s lack of hygiene, Shikamaru wasn’t too fond of drinking after him.

The Nara boy leaned back on his side of the booth, having already finished his food. Naruto didn’t seem to be too far from finishing himself, despite having just gotten his.

“Oh yeah, you just reminded me,” The blond spoke around his mouth full of food. Shikamaru made a face. Whoever thought that the Akimichi clan were messy eaters had never witnessed Naruto. “I’m supposed to be going on a mission with Ino in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s unusual. You guys have only ever been on a mission together while Chouji and I are there.”

“Yeah it’s a mission requiring a lot of stealth they said and she’s one of the best when it comes to that. I heard she’s really good on missions even without you and Chouji!” A grain or two of rice flew out of his mouth with that last statement.

Shikamaru was sure he was supposed to be offended for the Ino-Shika-Cho Trio. Of course they could perform well on their own; they would be pretty useless otherwise. They just worked exceptionally well together because of their family ties.

“Idiot. Why wouldn’t she be? She graduated among the top of our class.”

“Yeah, but she was always boy crazy! Every time I hang out with her and Sakura she talks more about boys than being a ninja,” Naruto defended. Shikamaru didn’t doubt that. While Ino was no doubt a great kunoichi, she didn’t seem to have a problem balancing her duties with her boyfriends. He wasn’t here to defend her skills to Naruto though.

“Well, you’ll see for yourself when you’re on your mission together.” Shikamaru left it at that. He really didn’t want to talk about his blond team mate. The more he talked about her, the more he thought of their morning conversation. He was hoping that she would forget the whole thing while she was away with Naruto on this mission.

Naruto just nodded in agreement.

“She seemed pretty calm when we were getting briefed. The guy she’s getting information from sounds really sleazy though. Hopefully she doesn’t have to do too much with him,” Naruto blanched as Shikamaru choked on the water he was drinking. The blond looked at the shadow user in confusion.

“Wait, what type of mission is this?” Shikamaru asked after a few coughs.

“I told you we’re gathering information…”

“Dumbass, I know that. What did they call this type of mission?”

“Oh… uhhh… a ‘seduction mission’?” Naruto seemed a little weirded out by the term. “Why?” Shikamaru just sighed and rubbed his face. Of course she wasn’t going to forget about it. She wanted this deed done before her mission with Naruto. His team mate could have mentioned that she had already taken on the type of mission she was trying to prepare herself for. Shikamaru was starting to feel a serious dread come over him.

“Anyways! Thanks for the meal! I gotta meet Kakashi-Sensei for training!” And without any care for the inner turmoil [read: mild discomfort] he had just caused his friend, the Nine-Tails host was gone. Shikamaru grabbed his check with even less enthusiasm than he normally had and went to the front of the restaurant to pay for the meals.

As the shadow user walked out back onto the street he noted that it had gotten somewhat busier in the time he had eaten his breakfast. He looked up, decided it was a good day for cloud watching (as was every other day) and with a sigh turned to head towards his favorite spot.

He had a sinking feeling that this situation with Ino was going to be even more troublesome than he first thought.

To his relief (and somehow concern at the same time), he didn’t see Ino for a couple of days after their conversation. He began to think maybe she had found someone else to dump her problem onto. Really, he’d prefer she ask him to help her cheat on her math homework or maybe help hide a body. Something reasonable.

On the third night he woke to the presence of someone in his room. As he reached for the kunai he kept under his pillow and started stretching out his shadow he heard a huffed whisper:

“Calm down, it’s just me.”

And felt his dread settle right back where it was. His armed plopped back down by his side and he opened his eyes to stare at his ceiling. He let out a sigh and continued to look at the ceiling as though it would offer him some sound advice.

“You know, they say every time you sigh, you lose a bit of happiness,” Ino said as she said down on the floor by his bed.

“You can’t lose something you don’t have,” Shikamaru retorted.

“What’s gotten you all bent out of shape? Because I woke you up? It’s only ten at night, only grannies sleep this early,” She rolled her eyes.

Shikamaru realized in this moment that he team mate was absolutely the type of person to set a bomb off and walk off like nothing happened. She would probably meet Sakura or some guy for lunch right after and then sleep like a baby that night with no care for the chaos she just caused.

He didn’t even want to explain any of that to her.

“Why are you in my room in the middle of the night?” He asked instead.

“It’s hardly the middle of the night,” She scoffed. “And I was heading back from Sakura’s place and decided to stop by your house on my way home and see you.”

“Didn’t you pass by your house on the way here?”

“Whatever. I just wanted to come talk to you to see if you’ve given any more thought to our conversation the other day,” Her voice lost her edge as she said this.

Shikamaru wanted to go back to sleep.

Instead, he rolled onto his side to face her and propped his head up on his hand.

“Why didn’t you say you had already taken on a seduction mission?” The Nara boy asked and noted that his team mate seemed surprised at the question.

“How did you know that? Wait, of course. It was Naruto. Of course it was. He has such a big mouth,” Ino grumbled more to herself.

“I’m sure there’s a couple of people left in Konoha that don’t know about your mission,” Shikamaru assured her.

“Ugh, whatever. Does it matter?”

“Of course it does. I thought that you were still debating on taking on these types of missions. Don’t you think finding out you’ve already been assigned one puts a lot of pressure on me?” Shikamaru asked. Not that he was surprised Ino didn’t think of how he would feel.

“I did think of that!” Ino whipped to face him as she yelled. Then, as if remembering she was in the house Yoshino, shrank down and spared a nervous glance in the direction of her bedroom. She and Shikamaru stared in that direction for a few nervous beats before relaxing slightly.

“I did think of that,” She repeated in a hushed whisper. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I know you think I’m being selfish like normal,” So she knew she was a selfish person. “But I really didn’t want to guilt you into helping me, even if you are the only person I trust.”

“So what were you going to do if I said no?”

“Go through with the mission, of course.”

“And what if something does happen? What if this guy decides he wants you? You know Naruto wouldn’t stand by and let that happen. I’m amazed he’s even on this type of mission.”

“I know that. He won’t be able to see me. I’m going to be communicating mind to mind.”

“So you would tell them if things went too far?”

She didn’t respond.

“Ino.” Shikamaru sat up on his bed.

“Not if it would cost us the mission,” She looked him in the eye as she answered. He knew that look and he also knew that she absolutely meant what she said. The Nara boy cursed under his breath and stood up. Ino looked up in surprise.

“I’m going to get a drink of water.” He said and walked out of his room. Ino watched him walk out, concern obvious of her face.

She really knew how to lay in on him. He almost preferred her going on about diets and the like than this. Then again he was glad those stopped. The idea of an active ninja going on crash diets was terrible. What did they need to diet for? Their lifestyle kept them in shape enough. If anything they needed to eat way more just to have the energy to keep up.

Shikamaru walked in his kitchen and grabbed a glass by the sink to fill with water. He downed half the glass and went to fill it back up. He didn’t know how to answer his team mate’s request.

But he already knew what he was going to do.

The shadow user was without a doubt lazy. He hated anything troublesome. He certainly hated anything to do with women and relationships. He would also absolutely do anything for his teammates. Even if this was something he never expected to have to do. He could only hope Chouji never came to him with a similar request. With a sigh he headed back to his room.

Only to find the blond dozing off on his bed.

“Don’t you have a home?” He asked her. She blinked awake.

“Ugh, I just haven’t been sleeping well the past few days. Your bed is really comfortable. I guess that’s not really surprising. Maybe I should get a new bed. I’ve had mine since I was ten,” Ino complained. Shikamaru, ignoring her rambling, set his glass down on his nightstand and sat down on his bed next to her.

“Well, if you’re going to sleep, then sleep. I have to be at the Hokage’s office first thing in the morning. Even though she’s probably going to get there an hour after me,” He muttered as he laid down.

“Oh. What really? You don’t mind me sleeping in your bed with you?”

“We’ve slept next to each other countless times on missions. Besides, if we’re supposed to have sex, I think we should be able to handle sleeping next to each other,” He said and rolled to face away from her.

“Oh, I guess you’re right.”

There was a beat.

“Oh! Wait! So you’ll really do it?” She remembered to keep her voice down this time. Shikamaru sighed again. He really was losing all his happiness.

“Come back on Thursday. I have Friday off and my mother is supposed to be out of town visiting her sister,” He said and realized he was basically sealing his fate. He felt Ino’s arm swing around him from behind and he stiffened in surprised.

“Thank you, Shikamaru. I really mean it,” She mumbled into his back. She rolled away and back onto her back. “I was going to go home, but your bed really is comfy. See you in the morning.”

He was pretty sure she fell asleep almost immediately and realized that his team mate was not just selfish, but maybe a bit shameless. To fall asleep in someone else’s bed before them.

Thursday night came too soon. Shikamaru’s mother left early in the day like she planned and wouldn’t be back until Sunday. Shikamaru for his part had spent the day watching clouds before returning home to make himself a dinner that he could barely eat. Afterwards, he took a bath and didn’t bothering dressing in anything other than his black sleeping shorts.

As he sat in bed, leaned back against his head board, he read the same page of a book Kurenai had given him. She told him it had been Asuma’s favorite, and while it was a good read, Shikamaru found he couldn’t concentrate. Still, he continued to stare at it until he felt a familiar presence in his room.

He looked up to see his blond teammate standing next to his bed. She was wearing a pair of blue gym shorts and a black t-shirt. Shikamaru was happy to see that neither of them had dressed up for this occasion.

“I would’ve been here sooner, but my mother cooked a late dinner and wanted to catch up,” Ino said by way of apology. Shikamaru shrugged it off. It’s not like he was eager to do this. When he didn’t make a move to say anything Ino sat in front of him on his bed.

“I guess there’s nothing we can really do to make this less awkward. So let’s just get started,” Despite her words, she didn’t look all that confident as she took off her shirt. She looked briefly at Shikamaru but rather than looking at his face, she stared slightly off to the side. Unexpectedly, the shadow user found it comforting that she was as nervous and uncertain as he was. Somehow it made it easier on him, knowing that they were both awkwardly proceeding with this. Spurred by this thought, he decided to break his silence.

“Well, you mine as well take off your bra too.” Ino looked scandalized at Shikamaru’s statement. The Nara boy just rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I know how to take bras off girls, Ino.”

“Oh… I guess that’s true. It’s not that hard,” She said as she reached behind her to undo her clasps. Shikamaru for his part kept his eyes averted as the blond took her bra off and set it aside. He heard her huff.

“You know it’s not very flattering when someone makes it a point not to look at you. I know I’m not exactly ideal but jeez,” She muttered, face red. Shikamaru looked to her face in surprise, somehow stopping himself from pausing to stare at her breasts. Now her gaze was averted.

“What are you talking about? I think you know that I’m obviously getting the better end of this deal,” Shikamaru said. She looked doubtful but turned to look back at him. The Nara boy still managed to keep his eyes in her face.

“What are you talking about?” She asked in return.

“You know, I wouldn’t take you for having confidence issues.”

“Ugh, only when it comes to you.”

“I know I don’t fawn over you like a lot of guys do, but I was positive you already knew you were beautiful,” Shikamaru said, in what seemed like genuine confusion over her words. Ino’s face had gotten even redder at his words, not even seeming to care anymore of her state of undress. “Besides,” He continued. “Everyone knows a girl usually experiences all the discomfort during her first time. Mine is just nerves at least.”

Ino didn’t seem to know what to say. Shikamaru didn’t have anything else to say himself. He certainly wasn’t trying to sit across from her half naked all night. Not knowing what else to do, he held out his arms to her, still sitting cross legged against his headboard. Ino blinked before she realized what he wanted and crawled over to him and into his arms. Without another word, Shikamaru leaned over to kiss her.

It started out slow, before Ino took initiative and deepened the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her body into his. Shikamaru felt her tongue slide against his lips and he took the hint to part his mouth. They continued slow and relaxed before his mind once again caught up with him. How funny that he was going from never having kissed a girl, to having his first kiss and losing his virginity in the same night.

Then again, it was typical for him. Promoted to Chuunin only to almost immediately lead a recon mission where he almost lost his best friend and one of his comrades. Constantly given more responsibility than he was really ready for, all for being a so called genius. Shikamaru furrowed his eyebrows and pulled away from Ino’s lips to bury his face in her neck.

Ino, surprised at his sudden move, seemed to sense his trouble and simply stayed in his arms.

The Nara boy didn’t know why these thoughts were suddenly coming to him. They certainly were ruining what little mood they had managed to build. This was decidedly a terrible time to let his mind wander. He slowly let out a breath to calm himself and in the same moment felt Ino’s hand move up through his hair. He felt her slowly work the band out of his hair and let his spikey hair down. Then she slowly started running her fingers through his hair.

She continued to do this as Shikamaru felt himself truly start to relax. As he breathed he let himself feel her body against him. He felt her skin, both soft and smooth yet hardened with muscle. He felt her fingers against his scalp, dainty but calloused from countless missions and near constant training. The feeling of her soft breasts against his hard chest. He sighed into her neck and brought his lips to her skin. Her fingers stilled only briefly in his hair before he felt her relax herself.

He dragged his lips up her neck and left a trail of kisses back down. He leaned back slightly as his hand moved from her back to her abdomen. He rubbed his thumb right below her breasts and seemed to hesitate for only a moment before he brought his hand up to graze her breast. His hand settled on the side of her neck as he lifted his face back up to kiss her.

If she was surprised by his sudden initiative, she didn’t show it. Instead she went with it, happy to let him take the lead for once. She didn’t seem to mind as he leaned her back to lay down. Nor when she felt his hands start to explore her body. Her hands gripped his hair a little harder as his lips left hers to move down her body.

Shikamaru had nothing to guide him but what he had heard or read about sex and the urges that any boy got after puberty. He may have never had any interest on acting on these urges, but he felt them all the same. Ino for her part let out sighs of what Shikamaru hoped was enjoyment. Her fingers continued to move in his hair and he felt her other hand trail along his shoulders and arms. In the back of his mind he wondered if maybe she enjoyed his body at least half as much as he enjoyed hers.

This continued for some time, the rest of their clothes coming off along the way, before Shikamaru propped himself up over her body. She looked briefly surprised by the sudden loss of contact before she looked up to meet his gaze. Her face was a little red, but he thought it might be less from embarrassment now. He didn’t really know how to proceed delicately, so he went with his usual straightforwardness.

“Uh, are you ready?” He looked like he wanted to scratch the back of his head as he asked this, but instead he settled for just looking slightly awkward. Ino let out a short laugh in response.

“How can you go from sexy to all business like that?” She smiled as she asked.

“Shut up,” He mumbled. “I just don’t want to rush things.”

“Thank you,” She said genuinely as she smiled softly. Despite himself, Shikamaru felt his heart skip a beat for the first time since they had started. His eyes softened and possibly for the first time he felt a great affection for his blond team mate. They didn’t love each other in a romantic way, but they both cared for each other and trusted the other with their life.

He had always been the one Ino entrusted her body with.

Without her having to confirm she was ready, Shikamaru went ahead and they both felt each other for the first time. Ino didn’t make any sounds of discomfort though he felt her tense up. For his part, he let out a breath that might have been close to a groan. There was no doubt that it felt good, but with her tense he found that he couldn’t enjoy the feeling. In an effort to relax her, he trailed his lips across her cheek and kissed her. There was no urgency, just the feeling of his tongue slowly moving against hers until Shikamaru felt her begin to relax around him.

Gently, he began moving, pulling his lips from hers to trail along her neck. As her heard her breath pick up, he moved the arm that wasn’t propping him up and brought his hand up to caress her breast. Hearing the sound of Ino moaning for the first time sparked urges that Shikamaru didn’t even know he was capable of feeling. Unconsciously, he picked up his pace.

As the sounds of panting and occasional moans filled the room, Shikamaru knew he wasn’t going to last long enough for her to climax. It wasn’t necessary for what she had asked of him but for a reason he didn’t entirely understand, he thought it was important she did. Going off of what he knew of the female body, he moved the hand that was on her breast down to where he knew she was most sensitive. At his touch, she gasped and he felt her contract once against him, knowing that he had been right and also knowing that he really wasn’t going to be able to last much longer.

Out of sheer determination alone, he held out as he continued to move his thumb and his hips, listening to the sound of his teammate’s moans. Just when he was afraid he wasn’t going to last after all, he heard her breathily utter his name before he felt her climax around him and he immediately felt himself come undone. He buried his face in her neck, muffling a groan as he stilled as deep as he could inside her. Through his climax he faintly felt the sensation of Ino’s nails digging into his back.

Shikamaru didn’t know how he managed not to collapse on top of her, but he still remained mostly propped above her. Both of them remained unmoving as they caught their breath, still coming down from their experience. After a minute or so, Shikamaru pulled away and rolled over and off of her, laying on his back next to her.

Neither of them said anything, maybe because at this point there was no more that needed to be said. They still didn’t love each other, so there was no declarations. ‘Thank you’ didn’t seem to be appropriate at the moment. So they said nothing. Eventually Shikamaru turned them the right way in his bed and covered them with his blanket. He obviously wasn’t going to send her home, so he just put his arm around her and she laid her head on his chest.

So she lay in his arms, Shikamaru offering her comfort that he wasn’t even sure she needed. The thought that maybe he was the one being comforted caused him to snort. Perhaps they both needed comforting, even if there wasn’t any particular reasoning. If Ino noticed his snort, she didn’t say anything.

They laid there until they eventually fell asleep. As he drifted off, Shikamaru had the thought that despite her selfishness, Ino had generously given him a feeling of security that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The next morning when they woke, there was a strange lack of awkwardness that had surely been expected. Ino got up to take a shower first and Shikamaru tried not to notice the strange way she walked. She didn’t bother to cover up and he figured it didn’t really matter after everything they had done last night.

As she showered, Shikamaru got up to grab some clothes of his to let her borrow. It might be strange for her to go home in his clothes, but they were nondescript enough that even if anyone saw her in them on her way home, they wouldn’t be suspicious. Though, even if for whatever reason they knew she was wearing his clothes, no one would suspect anything. It would never occur to their comrades that he and Ino would have any relations with each other.

He grabbed some clothes for himself and made his way to his mother’s room to borrow her shower. The shadow user stood under the warm stream of water and pondered the previous night. Unusual as it was for him, he just couldn’t seem to form any coherent thoughts about it. Obviously it had physically felt great, but emotionally he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. Do you thank someone when you take their virginity? Then again, he guess she had also taken his. Though she had asked him to do it, so he supposed he was more taking it off her hands. He shook his head at his thoughts. There was no point in thinking about it at the moment.

After he washed up, he dried off and threw on a pair of black gym shorts and a green t-shirt. The shadow user looked at his hair and the mirror and decided he didn’t even feel like tying it up today. He would probably just stay home today anyway. He was feeling worn out from people and the only person he’d seen so far had been Ino who hadn’t even said anything yet. That was a sign.

Shikamaru walked to his kitchen to find Ino making breakfast. He noticed she was walking around normally now and something in him relaxed though he hadn’t realized he’d been worried. She had found the clothes he laid out for her and was wearing a pair of his green shorts and a black shirt. Clearly, he was a man of variety.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I was hungry and figured I mine as well make us breakfast before I head home. Besides, I’d rather just go in through my window so my mom doesn’t ask me where I’ve been,” Ino said as she cracked eggs into a pan. After their fathers had died, both of their mothers had become more concerned over their wellbeing. It wasn’t all that surprising, but Ino had also told Shikamaru that her mother had asked her to quit being a ninja after the war. His mother had asked no such thing of him, but he knew that whenever he was away on missions she slept a lot less soundly.

“That’s fine,” He responded as he took a seat at the table. She had already set a glass of juice on the table for him and he grabbed it to take a sip. As he watched her cook a thought occurred to him. “This is strange timing, and I probably should have asked about this last night, but is it okay that we didn’t use protection?” There wasn’t really a more delicate way he could think of to ask.

Ino paused briefly to listen but the question didn’t seem to bother her. Instead, she waved him off. “It’s alright, I’ve been on birth control for a while now to help with my periods. Sorry if that’s TMI,” She added in afterthought. He didn’t consider the mere mention of periods to be TMI, but he knew some people were weird about it.

“Okay,” He said and left it at that. A couple of minutes later, Ino set a plate with eggs, rice, and bacon down in front of him. The breakfast was simple and strangely he found that he appreciated that. “Thanks.”

Ino hummed in response and sat down across from him with her own plate. They ate in silence and Shikamaru found himself observing his teammate. It took him about a little over a minute to eat half of his food and the blond had barely taken two bites in that time. Knowing he should just leave it alone, he couldn’t stop himself from commenting.

“Didn’t you say you were hungry?” Shikamaru asked.

Ino blinked in surprise and looked down at her plate as though she had forgotten it was there. She picked back up the fork she had put down.

“I’m just spacing out,” She dismissed before she took a bite. The Nara boy decided to drop it. By the time he was finished with his plate, she had finished a little over half of hers and was slowing down again. Eventually, she set her fork down and gave up trying to finish all of her breakfast. There was long stretch of silence before she broke it.

“Hey, I’m sorry about making you do this,” She finally said, looking down at the table. Shikamaru blinked in surprise. He didn’t realize she was feeling guilty nor did he expect her to. Besides,

“You didn’t make me do anything. You asked me to do you a favor and I agreed to it. I wasn’t that eager about it but…” Shikamaru paused. Ino was now looking at him with interest. “Look, we’re teammates and we’ve been together our whole lives. We don’t always see eye to eye and we certainly don’t always get along, but at the end of the day we’re still there for one another. You said there was no one else you trusted to help you and I get that, because there’s no one in my life that I trust more than you and Chouji. I can only hope that Chouji never comes to me for help with a similar problem,” He added seriously.

Unexpectedly, Ino laughed. Partly over his last statement, he thought, but partly in relief. Which was good, because he meant everything he said. Especially the part about Chouji.

“Well then, I’ll say thank you instead. Thank you for being there for me whenever I need you,” She smiled and he appreciated that much more than her previous apology. He nodded and said a thanks back to her. She seemed curious over being thanked but didn’t question it.

The next week and a half had passed by mostly uneventfully. Shikamaru didn’t have any missions so he was stuck playing assistant to the Hokage again. If he had to say anything was out of the ordinary, it would be the two more times Ino had paid him a visit.

The first time had been a little less than a week after they had sex. She had appeared in his room in the middle of the night and he wasn’t sure that even she had known what she wanted. Shikamaru wasn’t one to push, but he was pretty good at taking cues. So he offered her the comfort of his body in hers and received the same comfort he felt in return the first time. He didn’t know what had prompted her to seek his reassurance, whether it was nervousness over her mission or something below the surface. Regardless, he held her after they were done and she stayed until dawn.

The next time was the night before she was going to leave. That one he chalked up to solely being nervous about her mission. His mother was gone visiting her sister again, something she had been doing more often since his father died and since Shikamaru started taking more missions. So Ino brought she supplies with her so she could leave from his house in the morning.

That night she had taken lead and Shikamaru found himself thinking that that was more expected, given their personalities. Neither of them addressed the fact that it was only supposed to be a onetime thing done as a favor. They laid together for a couple of hours afterwards, neither falling asleep despite Ino having to leave early.

Unexpectedly, Shikamaru found himself propped above her one last time. That time was quicker the previous three and he suspected that it was more for himself than her. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew this would be the last time they found comfort in each other this way. Though it had started out as a favor for a friend, it offered a calmness that Shikamaru hadn’t felt since Asuma had died. He realized he felt regret over knowing that it would be a long time before he experienced that feeling of peace again and he was certain it wouldn’t be through her.

After that, they found sleep. Hours later Shikamaru felt Ino stir and get up. He heard her shower yet made no move to get up. Even after she was dressed and ready to leave, Shikamaru stayed where he was. He had the faint idea that maybe he was sulking over his perceived loss. As if sensing his mood, Ino leaned over to kiss him, whispering one last thank you, and then she was gone.

When she came back from her mission a week later, she did seek him out again, but there was no sex involved. This time, Shikamaru held her while she cried. She didn’t say how the mission went, though he later heard it was successful in the sense that she had gathered the information needed. Shikamaru didn’t ask and he figured it wasn’t his business what had or hadn’t happened if she didn’t want to tell him. So he continued to hold her throughout the night, not bothering to offer her empty words of comfort when he didn’t understand.

The next morning, she was gone when he woke up. From that point forward, they went back to how they always had been. They never spoke of what happened and there was no tension between them. Ino went back to being boy crazy and Shikamaru went back to dodging women like it was his job. They still went on missions together as the Ino-Shika-Cho Trio and he was still the one Ino trusted with her body.

Shikamaru wasn’t sure if he would ever find his peace again, but the laughter of his team mates and comrades was enough to get him by in the meantime.

#tiffany blews #naruto #fanfiction #nara shikamaru #Yamanaka Ino #shikaino #allodoxaphobiawrites

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thefortyeightlawsofpower-blog · 7 years ago

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LAW # 27 : PLAY ON PEOPLE’S NEED TO BELIEVE TO CREATE A CULTLIKE FOLLOWING

JUDGEMENT

People have an overwhelming desire to believe in something. Become the focal point of such desire by offering them a cause, a new faith to follow. Keep your words vague but full of promise ; emphasize enthusiasm over rationality and clear thinking. Give your new disciples rituals to perform, ask them to make sacrifices on your behalf. In the absence of organized religion and grand causes, your new belief system will bring you untold power.

THE SCIENCE OF CHARLATANISM, OR HOW TO CREATE A CULT IN FIVE EASY STEPS

In searching, as you must, for the methods that will gain you the most power for the least effort, you will find the creation of a cultlike following one of the most effective. Having a large following opens up all sorts of possibilities for deception; not only will your followers worship you, they will defend you from your enemies and will voluntarily take on the work of enticing others to join your fledgling cult. This kind of power will lift you to another realm: You will no longer have to struggle or use subterfuge to enforce your will. You are adored and can do no wrong.

You might think it a gargantuan task to create such a following, but in fact it is fairly simple. As humans, we have a desperate need to believe in something, anything. This makes us eminently gullible: We simply cannot endure long periods of doubt, or of the emptiness that comes from a lack of something to believe in. Dangle in front of us some new cause, elixir, get-rich-quick scheme, or the latest technological trend or art movement and we leap from the water as one to take the bait. Look at history: The chronicles of the new trends and cults that have made a mass following for themselves could fill a library. After a few centuries, a few decades, a few years, a few months, they generally look ridiculous, but at the time they seem so attractive, so transcendental, so divine.

Always in a rush to believe in something, we will manufacture saints and faiths out of nothing. Do not let this gullibility go to waste: Make yourself the object of worship. Make people form a cult around you.

The great European charlatans of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries mastered the art of cultmaking. They lived, as we do now, in a time of transformation: Organized religion was on the wane, science on the rise. People were desperate to rally around a new cause or faith. The charlatans had begun by peddling health elixirs and alchemic shortcuts to wealth. Moving quickly from town to town, they originally focused on small groups—until, by accident, they stumbled on a truth of human nature: The larger the group they gathered around themselves, the easier it was to deceive.

The charlatan would station himself on a high wooden platform (hence the term “mountebank”) and crowds would swarm around him. In a group setting, people were more emotional, less able to reason. Had the charlatan spoken to them individually, they might have found him ridiculous, but lost in a crowd they got caught up in a communal mood of rapt attention. It became impossible for them to find the distance to be skeptical. Any deficiencies in the charlatan’s ideas were hidden by the zeal of the mass. Passion and enthusiasm swept through the crowd like a contagion, and they reacted violently to anyone who dared to spread a seed of doubt. Both consciously studying this dynamic over decades of experiment and spontaneously adapting to these situations as they happened, the charlatans perfected the science of attracting and holding a crowd, molding the crowd into followers and the followers into a cult.

It was to the charlatan’s advantage that the individuals predisposed to credulity should multiply, that the groups of his adherents should enlarge to mass proportions, guaranteeing an ever greater scope for his triumphs. And this was in fact to occur, as science was popularized, from the Renaissance on down through succeeding centuries. With the immense growth of knowledge and its spread through printing in modern times, the mass of the half educated, the eagerly gullible prey of the quack, also increased, became indeed a majority; real power could be based on their wishes, opinions, preferences, and rejections. The charlatan’s empire accordingly widened with the modern dissemination of knowledge; since he operated on the basis of science, however much he perverted it, producing gold with a technique borrowed from chemistry and his wonderful balsams with the apparatus of medicine, he could not appeal to an entirely ignorant folk. The illiterate would be protected against his absurdities by their healthy common sense. His choicest audience would be composed of the semiliterate, those who had exchanged their common sense for a little distorted information and had encountered science and education at some time, though briefly and unsuccessfully.... The great mass of mankind has always been predisposed to marvel at mysteries, and this was especially true at certain historic periods when the secure foundations of life seemed shaken and old values, economic or spiritual, long accepted as certainties, could no longer be relied upon. Then the numbers of the charlatan’s dupes multiplied—the “self killers,” as a seventeenth-century Englishman called them.

THE POWER OF THE CHARLATAN, GRETE DE FRANCESCO, 1939

The gimmicks of the charlatans may seem quaint today, but there are thousands of charlatans among us still, using the same tried-and-true methods their predecessors refined centuries ago, only changing the names of their elixirs and modernizing the look of their cults. We find these latter-day charlatans in all arenas of life—business, fashion, politics, art. Many of them, perhaps, are following in the charlatan tradition without having any knowledge of its history, but you can be more systematic and deliberate. Simply follow the five steps of cultmaking that our charlatan ancestors perfected over the years.

Step 1: Keep It Vague; Keep It Simple. To create a cult you must first attract attention. This you should do not through actions, which are too clear and readable, but through words, which are hazy and deceptive. Your initial speeches, conversations, and interviews must include two elements: on the one hand the promise of something great and transformative, and on the other a total vagueness. This combination will stimulate all kinds of hazy dreams in your listeners, who will make their own connections and see what they want to see.

To make your vagueness attractive, use words of great resonance but cloudy meaning, words full of heat and enthusiasm. Fancy titles for simple things are helpful, as are the use of numbers and the creation of new words for vague concepts. All of these create the impression of specialized knowledge, giving you a veneer of profundity. By the same token, try to make the subject of your cult new and fresh, so that few will understand it. Done right, the combination of vague promises, cloudy but alluring concepts, and fiery enthusiasm will stir people’s souls and a group will form around you.

Talk too vaguely and you have no credibility. But it is more dangerous to be specific. If you explain in detail the benefits people will gain by following your cult, you will be expected to satisfy them.

As a corollary to its vagueness your appeal should also be simple. Most people’s problems have complex causes: deep-rooted neurosis, interconnected social factors, roots that go way back in time and are exceedingly hard to unravel. Few, however, have the patience to deal with this; most people want to hear that a simple solution will cure their problems. The ability to offer this kind of solution will give you great power and build you a following. Instead of the complicated explanations of real life, return to the primitive solutions of our ancestors, to good old country remedies, to mysterious panaceas.

Step 2: Emphasize the Visual and the Sensual over the Intellectual. Once people have begun to gather around you, two dangers will present themselves: boredom and skepticism. Boredom will make people go elsewhere ; skepticism will allow them the distance to think rationally about whatever it is you are offering, blowing away the mist you have artfully created and revealing your ideas for what they are. You need to amuse the bored, then, and ward off the cynics.

THE OWL WHO WAS GOD

Once upon a starless midnight there was an owl who sat on the branch of an oak tree. Two ground moles tried to slip quietly by, unnoticed. “You!” said the owl. “Who?” they quavered, in fear and astonishment, for they could not believe it was possible for anyone to see them in that thick darkness. “You two!” said the owl. The moles hurried away and told the other creatures of the field and forest that the owl was the greatest and wisest of all animals because he could see in the dark and because he could answer any question. “I’ll see about that,” said a secretary bird, and he called on the owl one night when it was again very dark. “How many claws am I holding up?” said the secretary bird. “Two,” said the owl, and that was right. “Can you give me another expression for ‘that is to say’ or ‘namely?’ ” asked the secretary bird. “To wit,” said the owl. “Why does a lover call on his love?” asked the secretary bird. “To woo,” said the owl. The secretary bird hastened back to the other creatures and reported that the owl was indeed the greatest and wisest animal in the world because he could see in the dark and because he could answer any question.

“Can he see in the daytime, too?” asked a red fox. “Yes,” echoed a dormouse and a French poodle. “Can he see in the daytime, too?” All the other creatures laughed loudly at this silly question, and they set upon the red fox and his friends and drove them out of the region. Then they sent a messenger to the owl and asked him to be their leader. When the owl appeared among the animals it was high noon and the sun was shining brightly. He walked very slowly, which gave him an appearance of great dignity, and he peered about him with large, staring eyes, which gave him an air of tremendous importance. “He’s God!” screamed a Plymouth Rock hen. And the others took up the cry “He’s God!” So they followed him wherever he went and when he began to bump into things they began to bump into things. too. Finally he came to a concrete highway and he started up the middle of it and all the other creatures followed him. Presently a hawk, who was acting as outrider, observed a truck coming toward them at fifty miles an hour, and he reported to the secretary bird and the secretary bird reported to the owl. “There’s danger ahead, ” said the secretary bird. “To wit?” said the owl. The secretary bird told him. “Aren’t you afraid?” He asked. “Who?” said the owl calmly, for he could not see the truck. “He’s God!” cried all the creatures again, and they were still crying “He’s God!” when the truck hit them and ran them down. Some of the animals were merely injured, but most of them, including the owl, were killed. Moral: You can fool too many of the people too much of the time.

THE THURBER CARNIVAL, JAMES THURBER , 1894-1961

The best way to do this is through theater, or other devices of its kind. Surround yourself with luxury, dazzle your followers with visual splendor, fill their eyes with spectacle. Not only will this keep them from seeing the ridiculousness of your ideas, the holes in your belief system, it will also attract more attention, more followers. Appeal to all the senses: Use incense for scent, soothing music for hearing, colorful charts and graphs for the eye. You might even tickle the mind, perhaps by using new technological gadgets to give your cult a pseudo-scientific veneer—as long as you do not make anyone really think. Use the exotic—distant cultures, strange customs—to create theatrical effects, and to make the most banal and ordinary affairs seem signs of something extraordinary.

Step 3: Borrow the Forms of Organized Religion to Structure the Group. Your cultlike following is growing; it is time to organize it. Find a way both elevating and comforting. Organized religions have long held unquestioned authority for large numbers of people, and continue to do so in our supposedly secular age. And even if the religion itself has faded some, its forms still resonate with power. The lofty and holy associations of organized religion can be endlessly exploited. Create rituals for your followers; organize them into a hierarchy, ranking them in grades of sanctity, and giving them names and titles that resound with religious overtones; ask them for sacrifices that will fill your coffers and increase your power. To emphasize your gathering’s quasi-religious nature, talk and act like a prophet. You are not a dictator, after all; you are a priest, a guru, a sage, a shaman, or any other word that hides your real power in the mist of religion.

Step 4: Disguise Your Source of Income. Your group has grown, and you have structured it in a churchlike form. Your coffers are beginning to fill with your followers’ money. Yet you must never be seen as hungry for money and the power it brings. It is at this moment that you must disguise the source of your income.

Your followers want to believe that if they follow you all sorts of good things will fall into their lap. By surrounding yourself with luxury you become living proof of the soundness of your belief system. Never reveal that your wealth actually comes from your followers’ pockets; instead, make it seem to come from the truth of your methods. Followers will copy your each and every move in the belief that it will bring them the same results, and their imitative enthusiasm will blind them to the charlatan nature of your wealth.

Step 5: Set Up an Us-Versus-Them Dynamic. The group is now large and thriving, a magnet attracting more and more particles. If you are not careful, though, inertia will set in, and time and boredom will demagnetize the group. To keep your followers united, you must now do what all religions and belief systems have done: create an us-versus-them dynamic.

First, make sure your followers believe they are part of an exclusive club, unified by a bond of common goals. Then, to strengthen this bond, manufacture the notion of a devious enemy out to ruin you. There is a force of nonbelievers that will do anything to stop you. Any outsider who tries to reveal the charlatan nature of your belief system can now be described as a member of this devious force.

If you have no enemies, invent one. Given a straw man to react against, your followers will tighten and cohere. They have your cause to believe in and infidels to destroy.

OBSERVANCES OF THE LAW

Observance I

In the year 1653, a twenty-seven-year-old Milan man named Francesco Giuseppe Borri claimed to have had a vision. He went around town telling one and all that the archangel Michael had appeared to him and announced that he had been chosen to be the capitano generale of the Army of the New Pope, an army that would seize and revitalize the world. The archangel had further revealed that Borri now had the power to see people’s souls, and that he would soon discover the philosopher’s stone—a long-sought-after substance that could change base metals into gold. Friends and acquaintances who heard Borri explain the vision, and who witnessed the change that had come over him, were impressed, for Borri had previously devoted himself to a life of wine, women, and gambling. Now he gave all that up, plunging himself into the study of alchemy and talking only of mysticism and the occult.

The transformation was so sudden and miraculous, and Borri’s words were so filled with enthusiasm, that he began to create a following. Unfortunately the Italian Inquisition began to notice him as well—they prosecuted anyone who delved into the occult—so he left Italy and began to wander Europe, from Austria to Holland, telling one and all that “to those who follow me all joy shall be granted.” Wherever Borri stayed he attracted followers. His method was simple: He spoke of his vision, which had grown more and more elaborate, and offered to “look into” the soul of anyone who believed him (and they were many). Seemingly in a trance, he would stare at this new follower for several minutes, then claim to have seen the person’s soul, degree of enlightenment, and potential for spiritual greatness. If what he saw showed promise, he would add the person to his growing order of disciples, an honor indeed.

The cult had six degrees, into which the disciples were assigned according to what Borri had glimpsed in their souls. With work and total devotion to the cult they could graduate to a higher degree. Borri—whom they called “His Excellency,” and “Universal Doctor”—demanded from them the strictest vows of poverty. All the goods and moneys they possessed had to be turned over to him. But they did not mind handing over their property, for Borri had told them, “I shall soon bring my chemical studies to a happy conclusion by the discovery of the philosopher’s stone, and by this means we shall all have as much gold as we desire.”

Given his growing wealth, Borri began to change his style of living. Renting the most splendid apartment in the city into which he had temporarily settled, he would furnish it with fabulous furniture and accessories, which he had begun to collect. He would drive through the city in a coach studded with jewels, with six magnificent black horses at its head. He never stayed too long in one place, and when he disappeared, saying he had more souls to gather into his flock, his reputation only grew in his absence. He became famous, although in fact he had never done a single concrete thing.

To become the founder of a new religion one must be psychologically infallible in one’s knowledge of a certain average type of souls who have not yet recognized that they belong together.

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE, 1844-1900

Men are so simple of mind, and so much dominated by their immediate needs, that a deceitful man will always find plenty who are ready to be deceived.

NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI, 1469-1527

From all over Europe, the blind, the crippled, and the desperate came to visit Borri, for word had spread that he had healing powers. He asked no fee for his services, which only made him seem more marvelous, and indeed some claimed that in this or that city he had performed a miracle cure. By only hinting at his accomplishments, he encouraged people’s imaginations to blow them up to fantastic proportions. His wealth, for example, actually came from the vast sums he was collecting from his increasingly select group of rich disciples; yet it was presumed that he had in fact perfected the philosopher’s stone. The Church continued to pursue him, denouncing him for heresy and witchcraft, and Borri’s response to these charges was a dignified silence; this only enhanced his reputation and made his followers more passionate. Only the great are persecuted, after all; how many understood Jesus Christ in his own time? Borri did not have to say a word—his followers now called the Pope the Antichrist.

And so Borri’s power grew and grew, until one day he left the city of Amsterdam (where he had settled for a while), absconding with huge sums of borrowed money and diamonds that had been entrusted to him. (He claimed to be able to remove the flaws from diamonds through the power of his gifted mind.) Now he was on the run. The Inquisition eventually caught up with him, and for the last twenty years of his life he was imprisoned in Rome. But so great was the belief in his occult powers that to his dying day he was visited by wealthy believers, including Queen Christina of Sweden. Supplying him with money and materials, these visitors allowed him to continue his search for the elusive philosopher’s stone. Interpretation

THE TEMPLE OF HEALTH

[In the late 1780s] the Scottish quack James Graham... was winning a large following and great riches in London.... [Graham] maintained a show of great scientific technique. In 1772 ... he had visited Philadelphia, where he met Benjamin Franklin and became interested in the latter’s experiments with electricity. These appear to have inspired the apparatus in the “Temple of Health,”

the fabulous establishment he opened in London for the sale of his elixirs.... In the chief room, where he received patients, stood “the largest air pump in the world” to assist him in his “philosophical investigations” into disease, and also a “stupendous metallic conductor,” a richly gilded pedestal surrounded with retorts and vials of “etherial and other essences.” ... According to J. Ennemoser, who published a history of magic in 1844 at Leipzig, Graham’s “house... united the useful with the pleasurable. Everywhere the utmost magnificence was displayed. Even in the outer court, averred an eye-witness, it seemed as though art, invention, and riches had been exhausted. On the side walls in the chambers an arc-shaped glow was provided by artificial electric light; star rays darted forth; transparent glasses of all colors were placed with clever selection and much taste. All this, the same eyewitness assures us, was ravishing and exalted the imagination to the highest degree.” Visitors were given a printed sheet of rules for healthy living. In the Great Apollo Apartment they might join in mysterious rituals, accompanied by chants : “Hail, Vital Air, aethereal ! Magnetic Magic, hail !” And while they hailed the magic of magnetism, the windows were darkened, revealing a ceiling studded with electric stars and a young and lovely “Rosy Goddess of Health” in a niche.... Every evening this Temple of Health was crowded with guests; it had become the fashion to visit it and try the great twelve-foot bed of state, the “Grand Celestial Bed,” said to cure any disease.... This bed, according to Ennemoser, “stood in a splendid room, into which a cylinder led from an adjoining chamber to conduct the healing currents... at the same time all sorts of pleasing scents of strengthening herbs and Oriental incense were also brought in through glass tubes. The heavenly bed itself rested upon six solid transparent pillars; the bedclothes were of purple and sky-blue Atlas silk, spread over a mattress saturated with Arabian perfumed waters to suit the tastes of the Persian court. The chamber in which it was placed he called the Sanctum Sanctorum.... To add to all this, there were the melodious notes of the harmonica, soft flutes, agreeable voices, and a great organ.”

THE POWER OF THE CHARLATAN, GRETE DE FRANCESCO, 1939

Before he formed his cult, Borri seems to have stumbled on a critical discovery. Tiring of his life of debauchery, he had decided to give it up and to devote himself to the occult, a genuine interest of his. He must have noticed, however, that when he alluded to a mystical experience (rather than physical exhaustion) as the source of his conversion, people of all classes wanted to hear more. Realizing the power he could gain by ascribing the change to something external and mysterious, he went further with his manufactured visions. The grander the vision, and the more sacrifices he asked for, the more appealing and believable his story seemed to become.

Remember: People are not interested in the truth about change. They do not want to hear that it has come from hard work, or from anything as banal as exhaustion, boredom, or depression; they are dying to believe in something romantic, otherworldly. They want to hear of angels and out-of-body experiences. Indulge them. Hint at the mystical source of some personal change, wrap it in ethereal colors, and a cultlike following will form around you. Adapt to people’s needs: The messiah must mirror the desires of his followers. And always aim high. The bigger and bolder your illusion, the better.

Observance II

In the mid-1700s, word spread in Europe’s fashionable society of a Swiss country doctor named Michael Schüppach who practiced a different kind of medicine: He used the healing powers of nature to perform miraculous cures. Soon well-to-do people from all over the Continent, their ailments both serious and mild, were making the trek to the alpine village of Langnau, where Schüppach lived and worked. Trudging through the mountains, these visitors witnessed the most dramatic natural landscapes that Europe has to offer. By the time they reached Langnau, they were already feeling transformed and on their way to health.

Schüppach, who had become known as simply the “Mountain Doctor,” had a small pharmacy in town. This place became quite a scene: Crowds of people from many different countries would cram the small room, its walls lined with colorful bottles filled with herbal cures. Where most doctors of the time prescribed foul-tasting concoctions that bore incomprehensible Latin titles (as medicines often do still), Schüppach’s cures had names such as “The Oil of Joy,” “Little Flower’s Heart,” or “Against the Monster,” and they tasted sweet and pleasing.

Visitors to Langnau would have to wait patiently for a visit with the Mountain Doctor, because every day some eighty messengers would arrive at the pharmacy bearing flasks of urine from all over Europe. Schüppach claimed he could diagnose what ailed you simply by looking at a sample of your urine and reading a written description of your ailment. (Naturally he read the description very carefully before prescribing a cure.) When he finally had a spare minute (the urine samples took up much of his time), he would call the visitor into his office in the pharmacy. He would then examine this person’s urine sample, explaining that its appearance would tell him everything he needed to know. Country people had a sense for these things, he would say—their wisdom came from living a simple, godly life with none of the complications of urban living. This personal consultation would also include a discussion as to how one might bring one’s soul more into harmony with nature.

Schüppach had devised many forms of treatment, each profoundly unlike the usual medical practices of the time. He was a believer, for instance, in electric shock therapy. To those who wondered whether this was in keeping with his belief in the healing power of nature, he would explain that electricity is a natural phenomenon; he was merely imitating the power of lightning. One of his patients claimed to be inhabited by seven devils. The doctor cured him with electrical shocks, and as he administered these he exclaimed that he could see the devils flying out of the man’s body, one by one. Another man claimed to have swallowed a hay wagon and its driver, which were causing him massive pains in the chest. The Mountain Doctor listened patiently, claimed to be able to hear the crack of a whip in the man’s belly, promised to cure him, and gave him a sedative and a purgative. The man fell asleep on a chair outside the pharmacy. As soon as he awoke he vomited, and as he vomited a hay wagon sped past him (the Mountain Doctor had hired it for the occasion), the crack of its whip making him feel that somehow he had indeed expelled it under the doctor’s care.

Over the years, the Mountain Doctor’s fame grew. He was consulted by the powerful—even the writer Goethe made the trek to his village—and he became the center of a cult of nature in which everything natural was considered worthy of worship. Schüppach was careful to create effects that would entertain and inspire his patients. A professor who visited him once wrote, “One stands or sits in company, one plays cards, sometimes with a young woman; now a concert is given, now a lunch or supper, and now a little ballet is presented. With a very happy effect, the freedom of nature is everywhere united with the pleasures of the beau monde, and if the doctor is not able to heal any diseases, he can at least cure hypochondria and the vapors.”

Interpretation

Schüppach had begun his career as an ordinary village doctor. He would sometimes use in his practice some of the village remedies he had grown up with, and apparently he noticed some results, for soon these herbal tinctures and natural forms of healing became his specialty. And in fact his natural form of healing did have profound psychological effects on his patients. Where the normal drugs of the time created fear and pain, Schüppach’s treatments were comfortable and soothing. The resulting improvement in the patient’s mood was a critical element in the cures he brought about. His patients believed so deeply in his skills that they willed themselves into health. Instead of scoffing at their irrational explanations for their ailments, Schüppach used their hypochondria to make it seem that he had effected a great cure.

The case of the Mountain Doctor teaches us valuable lessons in the creation of a cultlike following. First, you must find a way to engage people’s will, to make their belief in your powers strong enough that they imagine all sorts of benefits. Their belief will have a self-fulfilling quality, but you must make sure that it is you, rather than their own will, who is seen as the agent of transformation. Find the belief, cause, or fantasy that will make them believe with a passion and they will imagine the rest, worshipping you as healer, prophet, genius, whatever you like.

Second, Schüppach teaches us the everlasting power of belief in nature, and in simplicity. Nature, in reality, is full of much that is terrifying—poisonous plants, fierce animals, sudden disasters, plagues. Belief in the healing, comforting quality of nature is really a constructed myth, a romanticism. But the appeal to nature can bring you great power, especially in complicated and stressful times.

This appeal, however, must be handled right. Devise a kind of theater of nature in which you, as the director, pick and choose the qualities that fit the romanticism of the times. The Mountain Doctor played the part to perfection, playing up his homespun wisdom and wit, and staging his cures as dramatic pieces. He did not make himself one with nature; instead he molded nature into a cult, an artificial construction. To create a “natural” effect you actually have to work hard, making nature theatrical and delightfully pagan. Otherwise no one will notice. Nature too must follow trends and be progressive.

Observance III

In 1788, at the age of fifty-five, the doctor and scientist Franz Mesmer was at a crossroads. He was a pioneer in the study of animal magnetism—the belief that animals contain magnetic matter, and that a doctor or specialist can effect miraculous cures by working on this charged substance—but in Vienna, where he lived, his theories had met with scorn and ridicule from the medical establishment. In treating women for convulsions, Mesmer claimed to have worked a number of cures, his proudest achievement being the restoration of sight to a blind girl. But another doctor who examined the young girl said she was as blind as ever, an assessment with which she herself agreed. Mesmer countered that his enemies were out to slander him by winning her over to their side. This claim only elicited more ridicule. Clearly the sober-minded Viennese were the wrong audience for his theories, and so he decided to move to Paris and start again.

Renting a splendid apartment in his new city, Mesmer decorated it appropriately. Stained glass in most of the windows created a religious feeling, and mirrors on all the walls produced an hypnotic effect. The doctor advertised that in his apartment he would give demonstrations of the powers of animal magnetism, inviting the diseased and melancholic to feel its powers. Soon Parisians of all classes (but mostly women, who seemed more attracted to the idea than men did) were paying for entry to witness the miracles that Mesmer promised.

Inside the apartment, the scents of orange blossom and exotic incense wafted through special vents. As the initiates filtered into the salon where the demonstrations took place, they heard harp music and the lulling sounds of a female vocalist coming from another room. In the center of the salon was a long oval container filled with water that Mesmer claimed had been magnetized. From holes in the container’s metal lid protruded long movable iron rods. The visitors were instructed to sit around the container, place these magnetized rods on the body part that gave them pains or problems, and then hold hands with their neighbors, sitting as close as possible to one another to help the magnetic force pass between their bodies. Sometimes, too, they were attached to each other by cords.

THE POWER OF A LIE

In the town of Tarnopol lived a man by the name of Reb Feivel. One day, as he sat in his house deeply-absorbed in his Talmud, he heard a loud noise outside. When he went to the window he saw a lot of little pranksters. “Up to some new piece of mischief, no doubt.” he thought. “Children, run quickly to the synagogue,” he cried, leaning out and improvising the first story that occurred to him. “You’ll see there a sea monster, and what a monster ! It’s a creature with five feet, three eyes, and a beard like that of a goat, only it’s green !”

And sure enough the children scampered off and Reb Feivel returned to his studies. He smiled into his beard as he thought of the trick he had played on those little rascals. It wasn’t long before his studies were interrupted again, this time by running footsteps. When he went to the window he saw several Jews running. “Where are you running ?” he called out.

“To the synagogue !” answered the Jews. “Haven’t you heard? There’s a sea monster, there’s a creature with five legs, three eyes, and a beard like that of a goat, only it’s green !” Reb Feivel laughed with glee, thinking of the trick he had played, and sat down again to his Talmud. But no sooner had he begun to concentrate when suddenly he heard a dinning tumult outside. And what did he see? A great crowd of men, women and children, all running toward the synagogue. “What’s up?” he cried, sticking his head out of the window.

“What a question! Why, don’t you know?” they answered. “Right in front of the synagogue there’s a sea monster. It’s a creature with five legs, three eyes, and a beard like that of a goat, only it’s green!”

And as the crowd hurried by, Reb Feivel suddenly noticed that the rabbi himself was among them.

“Lord of the world!” he exclaimed. “If the rabbi himself is running with them surely there must be something happening. Where there’s smoke there’s fire!” Without further thought Reb Feivel grabbed his hat, left his house, and also began running. “Who can tell?” he muttered to himself as he ran, all out of breath, toward the synagogue.

A TREASURY OF JEWISH FOLKLORE, NATHAN AUSUBEL, ED., 1948

Mesmer would leave the room, and “assistant magnetizers”—all handsome and strapping young men—would enter with jars of magnetized water that they would sprinkle on the patients, rubbing the healing fluid on their bodies, massaging it into their skin, moving them toward a trancelike state. And after a few minutes a kind of delirium would overcome the women. Some would sob, some would shriek and tear their hair, others would laugh hysterically. At the height of the delirium Mesmer would reenter the salon, dressed in a flowing silk robe embroidered with golden flowers and carrying a white magnetic rod. Moving around the container, he would stroke and soothe the patients until calm was restored. Many women would later attribute the strange power he had on them to his piercing look, which, they thought, was exciting or quieting the magnetic fluids in their bodies.

Within months of his arrival in Paris, Mesmer became the rage. His supporters included Marie-Antoinette herself, the queen of France, wife of Louis XVI. As in Vienna, he was condemned by the official faculty of medicine, but it did not matter. His growing following of pupils and patients paid him handsomely.

Mesmer expanded his theories to proclaim that all humanity could be brought into harmony through the power of magnetism, a concept with much appeal during the French Revolution. A cult of Mesmerism spread across the country; in many towns, “Societies of Harmony” sprang up to experiment with magnetism. These societies eventually became notorious: They tended to be led by libertines who would turn their sessions into a kind of group orgy.

At the height of Mesmer’s popularity, a French commission published a report based on years of testing the theory of animal magnetism. The conclusion: Magnetism’s effects on the body actually came from a kind of group hysteria and autosuggestion. The report was well documented, and ruined Mesmer’s reputation in France. He left the country and went into retirement. Only a few years later, however, imitators sprang up all over Europe and the cult of Mesmerism spread once again, its believers more numerous than ever.

Interpretation

Mesmer’s career can be broken into two parts. When still in Vienna, he clearly believed in the validity of his theory, and did all he could to prove it. But his growing frustration and the disapproval of his colleagues made him adopt another strategy. First he moved to Paris, where no one knew him, and where his extravagant theories found a more fruitful soil. Then he appealed to the French love of theater and spectacle, making his apartment into a kind of magical world in which a sensory overload of smells, sights, and sounds entranced his customers. Most important, from now on he practiced his magnetism only on a group. The group provided the setting in which the magnetism would have its proper effect, one believer infecting the other, overwhelming any individual doubter.

Mesmer thus passed from being a confirmed advocate of magnetism to the role of a charlatan using every trick in the book to captivate the public. The biggest trick of all was to play on the repressed sexuality that bubbles under the surface of any group setting. In a group, a longing for social unity, a longing older than civilization, cries out to be awakened. This desire may be subsumed under a unifying cause, but beneath it is a repressed sexuality that the charlatan knows how to exploit and manipulate for his own purposes.

This is the lesson that Mesmer teaches us: Our tendency to doubt, the distance that allows us to reason, is broken down when we join a group. The warmth and infectiousness of the group overwhelm the skeptical individual. This is the power you gain by creating a cult. Also, by playing on people’s repressed sexuality, you lead them into mistaking their excited feelings for signs of your mystical strength. You gain untold power by working on people’s unrealized desire for a kind of promiscuous and pagan unity.

Remember too that the most effective cults mix religion with science. Take the latest technological trend or fad and blend it with a noble cause, a mystical faith, a new form of healing. People’s interpretations of your hybrid cult will run rampant, and they will attribute powers to you that you had never even thought to claim.

Image: The Magnet. An unseen force draws objects to it, which in turn become magnetized themselves, drawing other pieces to them, the magnetic power of the whole constantly increasing. But take away the original magnet and it all falls apart. Become the magnet, the invisible force that attracts people’s imaginations and holds them together. Once they have clustered around you, no power can wrest them away.

Authority: The charlatan achieves his great power by simply opening a possibility for men to believe what they already want to believe.... The credulous cannot keep at a distance; they crowd around the wonder worker, entering his personal aura, surrendering themselves to illusion with a heavy solemnity, like cattle. (Grete de Francesco)

REVERSAL

One reason to create a following is that a group is often easier to deceive than an individual, and turns over to you that much more power. This comes, however, with a danger: If at any moment the group sees through you, you will find yourself facing not one deceived soul but an angry crowd that will tear you to pieces as avidly as it once followed you. The charlatans constantly faced this danger, and were always ready to move out of town as it inevitably became clear that their elixirs did not work and their ideas were sham. Too slow and they paid with their lives. In playing with the crowd, you are playing with fire, and must constantly keep an eye out for any sparks of doubt, any enemies who will turn the crowd against you. When you play with the emotions of a crowd, you have to know how to adapt, attuning yourself instantaneously to all of the moods and desires that a group will produce. Use spies, be on top of everything, and keep your bags packed.

For this reason you may often prefer to deal with people one by one. Isolating them from their normal milieu can have the same effect as putting them in a group—it makes them more prone to suggestion and intimidation. Choose the right sucker and if he eventually sees through you he may prove easier to escape than a crowd.

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 8 years ago

Text

Between: A PJO Fanfiction

This is a fic that’s mostly made of vignettes, some personal headcanons and some canon extension about those referenced Nico moments that were never explicitly addressed leading into those Solangelo moments we all wanted to get.

I hope you all enjoy!

Also read on AO3

Trigger Warning: suicide attempt

Preview:

Nico drifted in a margin between a starless sky and a sea.

Somewhere between, only breaching surface enough to breathe and take another seed between his lips and hope it grew into something better.

There was only darkness, only shadow. He was trapped somewhere in the land between life and death with no way to navigate through.

Would anyone come? Would there ever be any light? Or would he be trapped there for the rest of time? Even if he escaped this fate, would it matter if what he wanted most he could never have? How much more would he have to sacrifice to make it all matter if he had already sacrificed everything?

Nico would do it. One last time.

He sank.

Nico struggled.

“You can’t even summon one ghost. Absolutely pathetic,” his father had sneered, in his eyes an ancient cruelty, and yet his words slid off Nico’s numbed skin like rain and did not reach within. Inside of him something continued to wither. “This is why your sister should have lived. You have amounted to nothing, be gone from my sight.”

And so Nico had expelled himself from Hades, wandered amongst the dark sands and caverns until he found himself surface-bound. How far and how long he had walked was anyone’s guess, but exhaustion clung to him as he desperately tried to inch his way through a darkened forest. Where he was, Nico didn’t particularly care to know or find out.

“Why won’t she answer me?” Nico asked Hades, somebody, no one in particular. His vision was swimming, his tongue felt swollen and yet his mouth was so dry. “Did she...did she hate me so much—that much? And I didn’t…how didn’t I know?”

He knew he had spoken the words but were so far away that he couldn’t hear them or know if anyone had answered. There was an emptiness inside him, something insidious. Was it hunger? Nico thought oddly distant. Nico couldn’t remember the last thing he had eaten, he had burned everything he had stolen in offering. But it was dull and insignificant in comparison to the insidious emptiness inside of him, the void that ached, the sickening continual pain.

Nico wandered, moving only because there was nothing else he could do. He stumbled when he couldn’t walk, crawled when his legs folded beneath him, lay down when he could no longer move. He curled up in that oppressive darkness, with barely enough strength to lift his limbs.

Nico wondered if he would disappear if he waited. Would he disappear into the underworld without a trace? Certainly he would be sent to the Asphodel Fields and become a nameless shade, as Lord Hades had repeatedly told him because Nico would never amount to anything. It was his sister who should have lived. She had been the promised one, never Nico.

Would he even make it there or would he instead be bound for the Fields of Punishment? Nico thought suddenly seized with panic. Was this not punishment enough, to be so lonely that every moment felt as if it were a new death? If he wouldn’t even be reunited with his sister in death, if she did not want him even then, what could he do? He didn’t have anyone left, his mother, his sister, gone—

“Papa…” Nico croaked and reached, even though he didn’t exist and wouldn’t be there to take his hand. That gentle but stern, that firm but loving Papa who had lived in his memory must have just been that, a beautiful golden memory, a dream-figment. A beautiful story that Nico had cultivated to protect his heart from the truth that his world was only two people who were gone forever. But oh, his golden memory. A hand that didn’t hurt and took nothing from him reaching down to grasp his own, squeezing gently and keeping Nico close and safe. A curve of lip that may have been a smile. Dark eyes that were fond and warm. Nico didn’t need much, only that small flicker of happiness, that dim and seemingly inconsequential reason, and he would have been content for the rest of his life. What wouldn’t he give to sink into that dream and live there in that moment for the rest of time? What wouldn’t he have given to have the chance to go home?

Nico, freezing, starving, and half-mad with a grief just wanted to go home.

He wanted it so bad that he could feel it in the root of his teeth. He could see it in his mind’s eye, feel it against his flesh, reach for it in the dark. Home, Nico thought desperately as he plunged his hand into shadow as his heart’s cry intensified. Papa, please, take me back home. I want to go home, home—

And then suddenly the ground opened up, and Nico fell into shadow.

Nico would never forget that first unwitting leap, how he screamed but no sound came out as he tumbled through the darkness. The shadows reached for him, pulling him further and further, called to him with in a choir of the damned—our prince, our prince, our prince—

Nico fought and surfaced, expelled from the shadows violently about a mile away. He hit the ground hard, slid down a ravine and into the mouth of a cave, and lay there stunned, in so much pain that he couldn’t move, and absolutely exhausted.

When Nico finally managed to raise his head, Minos was looking down at him shimmering and iridescent.

“There may be hope for you after all.”

Nico was ten.

Nico’s breath swirled and caught the light, his puffs of air an iridescent white in the winter night. There was a distant stinging against his face and neck, where the collar of his jacket didn’t quite cover, but it didn’t bother him much anymore.

Christmas-time in Dresden was a beautiful blaze of light in the night, the Christmas market was full of venders and people bustled around the stands in search of hot mulled wine and a litany of traditional sweets and foods. A Ferris wheel and carousel churned in a dizzying rhythm, bursts of music and laughter filled the air. Nico didn’t know how to speak German (the fact that he could parcel out vague meanings was odd and he couldn’t really explain it), which was an issue because after accidentally shadow-traveling there from rural Idaho he was in desperate need of both sleep and food but couldn’t figure out a way to ask for either nor did he have any euros on him. So he had taken to slipping through alleyways and between stalls in search of something to fill his stomach that he could easily nick.

Maybe it was Nico’s vaguely panicked and hungry look that drew attention, but suddenly a man was standing in front of him. Tall and stocky, with a beard full of curls, he looked down on Nico with blue eyes and crinkled laugh lines.

“Fröhliche Weihnachten!” he greeted with a booming voice that made Nico jump and his hands twitch for his Stygian sword. The man—the baker, who obviously could not see beyond the thin veil of Mist, nor perceive the threat of Nico’s entire existence, because he began to rattle off fast paced German and Nico only vaguely caught a mention of him asking Nico if he was hungry.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak German,” Nico croaked, his voice sounding raspy and strange in his own ears.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry,” the baker said in very heavily accented English before reaching over to scoop a small plate of cookies that looked vaguely like gingerbread and place it in Nico’s hands. “Lebkuchen for you! Have a happy Christmas!”

“I didn’t pay—“ Nico tried to say, before suddenly a tide of tourists nearly swept him away as he still clutched his cookies.

Nico was then standing alone in a sea of people with his newly acquired cookies, feeling stranded. However the cookies looked so good, dusted with powered sugar, wafting the scent of ginger and molasses and candied citron. He had just lifted one up to his mouth, and into an alleyway, and before he could even put together a new thought suddenly he was face to face with the faint shimmering image of Minos, his eyes glinting coldly from behind the pale.

“I believe you thought to change your father’s opinion of you,” Minos scoffed and Nico felt his teeth clench. Suddenly nothing was okay again. “How do you believe you could possibly gain enough power to do that and save your sister, if you can’t even manage to shadow travel to Boise from Cadwell without ending up in Germany!”

“Shut up!” Nico growled back at him, storming into shadow and dropping into it, all his thoughts trained on Boise and focused by his rage.

It was only when he fell out of cleaning supply in Bismark to the surprise and concern of a couple of employees that he realized he hadn’t taken his bite and promptly fainted. He spent that Christmas trying to escape from a holding cell in Montana.

Nico jumped.

For a moment everything was still, no pain, no hunger, no exhaustion. Nico became impressions: a sword, a golden memory, his sister’s smile, his mother’s laughter so clear it was as if his mind had been waiting until the end to give him one final blessing—

—the air whistled and hummed as if alive the grey water came up to embrace him—

Who knew there was

an entrance to

the underworld

beneath

the

Golden Gate Bridge?

Nico stuffed himself full of cake and ice cream, as much as he could get his hands on, unable to give up the opportunity. He avoided Percy Jackson’s mother’s concern, keeping his eyes cast down on his fingers.

“That plan is crazy,” Percy said quietly, tapping a frantic rhythm out with his finger on the table. Nico dared a look through his hair and saw Percy’s unwavering green stare on him. Nico immediately looked away, picking at the dirt beneath his fingernails, twisting his ring on his finger again and again.

“It would work,” Nico said, his throat feel scratchy. Percy was still looking at him, and Nico could almost feel it dig into his skin, raising his blood pressure, making his face feel hot. Nico hoped beyond all hope that Percy didn’t notice the way that Nico desperately wanted to disappear.

“How do you even know that?”

“If it’s good enough for Achilles, it would be good enough for you,” Nico scoffed. Percy frowned, lips pulling down, and Nico forced his gaze back to his hands and his empty plate.

“Annabeth would kill me for trying something so stupid,” Percy noted, and Nico swallowed desperately, bracing himself against the unnamed emotion that was rising within him.

“Just think about it,” Nico said as he forced himself to stand up. His stomach lurched with the movement, and he braced against the table.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?” Percy suddenly asked, reaching out to him. “I could ask my mom—“

“I’m fine, Jackson,” Nico said, nearly spitting out the words and flinching away from the touch. “I’ll see you later. Let me know what you think.”

Nico left as quickly, rushing down the fire escape. He ran three blocks before he was forced to stop to throw up the contents of his stomach.

Nico sat across from Annabeth at the table.

On a day to day basis Nico actually liked Annabeth when he wasn’t hating her for things that were completely and utterly out of her control. That didn’t mean that being in the same room with her was easy. It couldn’t be when Annabeth could so easily attain the things that Nico could never have with a semblance of grace. She was what he couldn’t be, she had run away and yet she had found a home. She was harsh and yet people could look beyond that to love her. Annabeth was…she was…

Annabeth looked fondly at Percy’s retreating figure and Nico wanted to find somewhere in the ground that he could be buried. Her eyes trained on him, and Nico felt himself bristle.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Nico said because he honestly hadn’t.

“You almost beheaded her,” Annabeth said with a raised eye brow.

“Well at least then she wouldn’t stick her nose where she doesn’t belong,” Nico said as he sunk down in his chair. Annabeth was not amused, and Nico wished somehow he could sink lower.

“Listen, I understand, after the Battle of Manhattan we’ve all been highly strung. But you can’t be making enemies here if you want to stay.”

“She snuck up behind me and—“ Nico felt his throat close around the word “scared”. Instead he sealed his mouth shut.

“Just…don’t do what you’ve been doing,” Annabeth said as she tugged at one of her perfect princess curls, her grey eyes almost powdery blue in the midday sun.

“And what have I been doing?” Nico snapped, feeling that ugly unnamed feeling rise up once more.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with your bad attitude right now,” Annabeth said as she leveled annoyed glare. “Just apologize to Ares Cabin before someone puts a hit in for Capture the Flag or something.”

“Fine,” Nico said as he stood up and burst from the pavilion. He stomped out, watching as the other campers gave him a wide breadth. Had they always done that? Nico suddenly thought and was seized by panic. When had they started doing that? Why had Annabeth said that? Why did it have to be Annabeth--?

Nico smacked into a girl from Aphrodite Cabin. Her eyes blew out and her face drained of color, as she cringed and stuttered out an apology. Suddenly Nico was swimming in a rising sea of whispers, of fears. What had been his strength was suddenly his undoing. How had he not noticed? How?

“Nico, you alright?” Percy Jackson called from the training fields, his hair slick with sweat, his shirt riding up.

Nico ran back to his cabin and slammed the door close. By nightfall Nico had left Camp Half-Blood for good trying to outrun the jealousy that was threatening to drown him, and the unadulterated anger for the one who caused it. At least, Nico thought, someone was waiting for him this time.

Between was different, not bad, but different.

Persephone was Persephone. She had her days where she viewed Nico as one would a wall ornament or try to throw fruit at him as if he could get exercise by playing fetch. But on somedays it almost seemed like she didn’t mind when Nico sat with her in the garden and let her ramble about nitrogen and tree roots.

Sometimes Hades would almost smile when he looked at Nico. And sometimes, Hades looked like he wanted Nico to call him father and was always disappointed when Nico didn’t. But they were working on it. Slowly but steadily they were working on something. And that seemed to be enough for the both of them.

And Nico had Hazel now, a sister that Nico hadn’t known before but would never let go. He relearned how to laugh at himself. Remembered how nice it was to sit next to somebody and not have to speak, of the inherent understanding that came between siblings. Understood that though he could never replace what he lost and would always feel the ache within him, maybe, just maybe, he could move forward inch by inch with Hazel by his side. Nico remembered thinking he might like that, and thought that liking things was almost an intoxicating sensation. Percy Jackson disappearing and appearing with a forecast of severe memory loss had been stressful, but he was with Hazel and Nico could do things to keep himself from thinking of him for longer than a cursory acknowledgement.

Nico thought could do something about all of it. So he tried.

Anguish.

Something wet was seeping out of his side which hurt, it hurt so badly. He wanted it to stop, he had to get whatever was digging itself in his head out before it ate him whole—!

“Nico, you have to stop! You need to keep moving. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore.”

Nico pulled his hand away, and realized they were painted with his blood. His arms were gouged, blood trailing down his knuckles and over the hilt of his sword, but he felt no pain besides a dull ache. Suddenly his mouth twisted and laughter odd and broken and exhausted scraped his throat as he stumbled forward. The wasted plains of Tartarus in all their horror lay out before him, and he had nothing to protect himself from it.

“I can’t…keep going,” Nico gasped out of a laugh, his steps swaying, his vision swimming. He felt ancient and frail as he swam amongst the curses in the belly of the deepest pit with fire in his blood and sickness in his heart.

“You have to. You can’t give up, Nico. You can’t ever give up. If you do they will capture you, and everything could be over,” her voice was calm and urgent in his ears. He had long since stopped wondering why, why then, why now? Maybe he had been saving Bianca for the moment when he needed her most. Or maybe that was the form his scantly remaining powers took to guard him from complete and utter madness. Maybe it was his conscience, or his heart. If he still had a heart left, maybe its beat would be Bianca’s voice. Nico didn’t know, nor did he care.

“I know…I know,” Nico said, trying desperately to breathe through the contractions that were choking him and the stinging in his throat. “If I die here��do you think my soul will still make it to…”

“You can’t think like that, please don’t think like that Nico. You have to get there, and you can’t let them catch you.”

“Why not?” Nico asked, as he had to force his sword into the ground to steady himself for a moment. It hurt, everything hurt. Why did he have to keep on going? He knew he had to, but all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep forever.

“Nico!”

“I’m sorry,” Nico gasped as he snapped back to attention, forcing his legs up from where his knees had given out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry—“

Suddenly he could feel it, a rumbling in the abyss. The monsters, Nico thought panicked, they were coming back—

“Nico!”

The darkness in Nico boiled and frothed out from the inside. He could feel the shadows writhing beneath his skull, welling from his bones and spilling through his veins. Everything shifted, he was sinking as the corruption took a hold of him, and despite everything in him that was fighting back there was barely anything left of him to hold onto. The shadows ripped into him, bidding him to melt away into the darkness, and Nico didn’t want to go.

He stumbled and fell, still fighting against the claws. He screeched as he met twin cruel grins.

Nico drifted in a margin between a starless sky and a sea.

Somewhere between, only breaching surface enough to breathe and take another seed between his lips and hope it grew into something better.

There was only darkness, only shadow. He was trapped somewhere in the land between life and death with no way to navigate through.

Nico would do it. One last time.

He sank.

“Why do you keep trying to talk to me?” Nico asked Will Solace bluntly.

Nico was sitting on a bed in the infirmary, having stripped off his shirt so Will could take a look at his gashes. Nico hadn’t particularly wanted to come to the infirmary, as he didn’t know how those in danger of dying would feel with his presence. At the same time, Will Solace had impressed him with his guts. And Nico always honored those who he believed deserved it with his respect, so he had come to the infirmary with those thoughts in mind.

“Well…I don’t know. I just like talking to you is all,” Will answered, the question’s premise seemingly amusing to him. Nico wasn’t amused.

“Why?” Nico continued to press.

“You’re easy to like, Nico,” Will chuckled fondly.

Nico scowled, mostly out of bafflement. He was definitely not easy to like. In his whole life the only people he had managed enough fondness to be considered genuine affection from were his mom and sisters…and his dad. But they were also biologically inclined to like him at least a little bit. Or at the very least not to immediately hate him or anything. Not that he didn’t have the skills to make them regret that. It was an unfortunate side effect of being a child of the underworld. Reyna was a different, special case. She had shared her strength with him, they were more like comrades in arms than anything (though a part of Nico knew he was just kidding himself).

Though thankfully both Bianca and Hazel had avoided that curse where Nico and most other children of Hades/Pluto before them hadn’t. People had loved Bianca, loved how thoughtful, mature, and polite she was, how interesting she could be with that bit of rebellion in her and the pretty curl of her hair. And people utterly adored Hazel, it was almost impossible not to with her bright welcoming smile and her inclination to fierceness and determination and a startling flash of beauty to boot. If Nico had done anything in his life that he could be proud of, it was saving Hazel. Hazel, who deserved to be loved and would be loved by anyone who met her. She made it seem easy even though Nico knew it wasn’t. Dark and rangy Nico di Angelo was unlikable enough already without the blood of the king of the dead compounding the issue.

And that suited Nico just fine. He knew he wasn’t a pleasant person to be around on most days. Nico certainly didn’t blame anyone for getting annoyed with him, or frustrated, or creeped out. Even Nico felt that way about himself pretty regularly. When people were nice to him, it was more of a reflection on their character than anything Nico did to give them a high opinion. (People like dumb Percy Jackson who was so inherently good that he would again and again try to save his greatest enemy rather than kill them at first opportunity like Nico would have and would never get mad at Nico and took all the blame on even though it was Nico’s fault because even though Percy didn’t like to be the hero, he was the greatest hero Nico would ever know. And Nico would never really hate Percy for being so kind to him in all of his times of need, even when he had wanted to with all his heart. And even if Nico didn’t like like Percy anymore, Nico would always like Percy Jackson and consider him one of his greatest friends and allies. Though Percy never needed to know that.)

But hearing that from Will Solace made him feel…well, he was flattered honestly. Confused, sure. Wary, yes. Nico had no clue where Will had gotten the idea in his head, but he was flattered because it had been, well, a nice thing to say. An unwarranted and undeserved compliment, but Will Solace was a nice person. And Nico knew from just knowing Will for a couple hours that Will was one of those people who could find a glimmer of goodness in anybody, and that was an admirable trait. So if Will thought he was likable, though it was misguided, Nico had to believe he said it out of kindness.

“Thank you,” Nico admitted awkwardly, twisting his ring around his finger. Mostly because he really didn’t know what to say, and denying the compliment would have been rude to a person who had only been nice to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said with a fond look, giving Nico’s hand a pat. Nico resisted the urge to jump back and nurse his hand as if he had been burned. “Alright, I’m going to start cleaning the wounds. It’ll probably sting a bit—oh wait, before that, I’ll give you some nectar and ambrosia.”

“That stuff doesn’t really work on me,” Nico told him.

“Unicorn draught?” Will offered and Nico shrugged. “Coach Hedge’s medicinal gum?”

Nico winced, and Will chuckled.

“Alright, gum it is,” Will said as he reached to grab a box.

“That stuff tastes like peppermint and graveyard dirt,” Nico groaned as Will offered him a stick.

“Funny how you know that exact flavor. You sound like quite the connoisseur,” Will said, as Nico took the stick of gum.

“What can I say, it’s always bone-dry,” Nico added as he snapped the gum between his teeth, baring them to Will so he could see he was chewing.

“Was that a pun?” Will asked with a laugh that was bright and sudden. “Nico, son of Hades, likes to make puns.”

“Hey, I have to have some way to torture my unwilling victims,” Nico scoffed.

Both Will and Nico shared a something akin to a smile, something tentative and yet warm and natural. It was maybe an alliance? Something too fresh to be called a friendship or anything that extreme. But Nico got the sense that maybe Will Solace was someone he wouldn’t mind spending three days with.

“Hey,” Percy said as he sat down next to Nico. Nico was taking a sip from a water bottle, and regarded Percy curiously albeit slightly nervous.

“Hey,” Nico replied, fiddling with his water bottle.

For a few moments they just sat next to each other, side by side. Percy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and seemingly took a deep breath before peeking over at him. There was nothing angry in his gaze, nothing hurt. Instead, there was something kind there.

“I wanted to talk about things, but, I don’t know. Do you want to talk?” Percy asked him honestly, running a hand through his dark hair.

“I’m not good at talking.”

“I’ve had better conversationalists, sure. But there’s only one Nico,” Percy noted before looking ahead somewhere. Nico followed his gaze to the younger children playing Harpies and Hopscotch on the green. “You were like that, when we first met. A lot of energy.”

“I was not,” Nico protested weakly, Percy gave him a look and Nico groaned. “I was embarrassing. If this is you trying to make amends, bringing back my dark past is not the way to do it. You may know I wasn’t always a badass, but they don’t know that and I will kill you to shut you up.”

“Alright, alright,” Percy said as he help up his hands in surrender, his laughter bright and Nico found himself almost smiling. “You going to stay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Nico said as he twisted his ring. “I want to try living up here again. Give it a second chance.”

“Good. I’m glad,” Percy said. “Nico…I’m sorry. You went through a lot and…I didn’t make it easier for you.”

“You couldn’t control the fact I had a crush on you.”

“But still. I’m sorry.”

“…I forgive you,” Nico said, the words hard to sound out, but the moment they were out it felt as if the weight of the world was off his shoulders. Percy clapped his hand on Nico’s shoulder and squeezed. Nico rolled his eyes and elbowed him.

“…Will Solace though, huh?” Percy commented.

Percy yelped as Nico dumped the Gatorade in his water bottle over his head.

Nico pressed up on the balls of his feet.

He wasn’t tall, this he would grudgingly admit. But Nico stretched and reached, curling his fingers in the sleeve of Will’s sweatshirt.

Nico kissed Will Solace, and he felt his eyes flutter shut. Their lips were pressed together, and Nico could almost feel his heart pounding in his head and he felt completely and utterly alive. It was delicious and it was a breathing magical thing between them and it was so good—impossibly good that Nico couldn’t believe that it was true. And Nico knew he wanted to do it again and again, wanted to drown Will Solace and his beautiful golden curls and warm grins that dimpled and the freckles on his golden skin and his hands that were gentle and kind with a thousands kisses.

In that moment Nico was made radiant, he was made daring, he was made foolish, he was made new by love (though he couldn’t admit it yet, not yet, but maybe soon, maybe again).

Will Solace cupped Nico’s cheek, tracing his thumb over Nico’s skin, and shivered into the kiss. When they parted, Nico’s breath was ragged and his mouth felt hot and Will’s eyes were the color of morning glories darkened and intense.

“I…wow,” Will Solace said with an appreciative whistle, and Nico couldn’t help but feel his mouth quirk. “That was…that was perfect.”

“Stop that,” Nico said, unable to help the fact he was suddenly embarrassed by the intensity of his thoughts. Nico felt his entire face explode into heat from his neck to the tips of his ears.

“It totally was,” Will said with a dreamy smile that looked love-struck, and Nico could tell he was being completely serious and yet, somehow, that was even worse.

“I was awful,” Nico argued weakly, kicking a rock with the toe of his boot.

“You definitely weren’t, here, feel my heart beat,” Will said as he suddenly grabbed Nico’s hand and pressed it to his chest. And suddenly Nico could feel it, the way Will’s heart fluttered against his ribs, and his fingers twitched. “See? You’ve made my heart race!”

“You…I see,” Nico admitted as he swallowed nervously.

“So this means I like you, and you like me.”

“It does,” Nico conceded. Trying not to let it show how happy he was when Will said the words out loud, that Will Solace liked Nico di Angelo and Nico di Angelo liked Will Solace. It was right, in a terrifying way.

“That makes me ridiculously happy,” Will said as he curled his hand around Nico’s and pulled it from his chest, he held their hands intertwined together between them. “You make me ridiculously happy.”

“You make me happy too,” Nico told him, as he squeezed Will’s hand back.

Nico was. He really was.

#Solangelo #solangelo fanfiction #pjo fanfiction #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #Percy Jackson #Annabeth Chase

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edo-salandria · 8 years ago

Text

FanFic: SENSORY OVERLOAD

SUMMARY: Natsu and Lucy have been targeted. A mysterious tattoo appears on both of them that changes their relationship in ways they could never have imagined.

RATED: M

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Also can be read on: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12234990/1/Sensory-Overload (Up to Chapter 16)

Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8 ; Chapter 9 ; Chapter 10 ; Chapter 11 ; Chapter 12 ; Chapter 13 ; Chapter 14 ; Chapter 15 ; Chapter 16

CHAPTER 13

The Master was sitting in his office when he smelled fire, there was only one reason the guild would smell like fire. He stood up as anger bubbled inside, he opened his office door to the commotion outside and he boomed "NATSU WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" The guild immediately quieted. Mira and Kinana were using the soda guns at each end of the bar to spray down slowly dying fire with water. Everyone's direction turned to Natsu he started scratching the back of his head nervously "Sorry gramps, Lucy was being dense and I had to tell her something important!"

Gramps grew even angrier "What the hell is so important that you had to set the bar on fire?" The flames finally disappeared to reveal the message to everyone else. Mira squealed with delight "Oh my that is so romantic!" her eyes then shifted to their devilish yellow glare "but you ruined my damn bar Natsu". Gramps sighed, resigned to the fact that his children were impulsive and reckless, but their intentions always seem pure, his look softened "It's about time you idiot… but did you have to do it in such a destructive manner?" Natsu looked sheepishly "I don't really know how to do it any other way!"

"Ain't that the truth" yelled someone from the crowded guild hall. Everyone erupted in laughter and people started to disburse back into smaller groups. Happy yelled from above Natsu's head, still holding Lucy "Heads up Natsu, she's getting too heavy!" with that said he let Lucy go. She squeezed her eyes shut as she quickly descended, no doubt in her mind she would not be landing on the ground. Natsu caught her swiftly and then jumped down off the bar with her in his arms, before he could put her down she had to ask the immediate question at the moment "So you and Lisanna aren't a thing?" He chuckled "hell no!" Lucy was fully relieved at this point. Natsu started leaning into her, closing what little distance there was, knowing what he was going to do she quickly put her finger up to his lips and whispered softly in his ear "Let's not give them the satisfaction." she pulled back and winked. He gently put her down and chuckled. He was reluctant to let her go but with everyone clustering around them he felt her anxiety and thought it best to give her space.

Just as they gained breathing room for themselves Lucy felt an arm sling around her and a hand dangled loosely down. From the smell alone she knew it was Cana. "Sooo Lucy… you think he can fuck as good as he fights" She took a swig from her mug and wiggled her eyebrows. She turned a deep shade of red which was involuntarily reflected on Natsu's face. He snickered and smirked glancing at Cana's "Oi, wouldn't you like to know!"

Lucy scrunched her face up and looked toward Cana with disapproval "You won't ever be findin' out!"

Cana loved being mischievous and she knew exactly what to do and say next. "Hey Natsu, if ya need pointers, I can let ya know what drives Lucy wild in bed." While talking she shifted her position behind Lucy and reached around and fully groped both of her large breasts and gave them a good squeeze. Lucy loudly whispered toward Cana "Shut-up Cana." Cana just grinned "She has really sensitive nipples you know." She gave a devious wink toward Natsu. He just stood there in awe as he looked at the two women "No-way" was all he could manage to say. Happy paled at the direction their conversation was going "DISGUSTING!" and he turned and flew away "CAAARRRLLLAAA!"

Lucy was beyond embarrassed and could only giggle nervously while prying Cana off her, leaning into her she not so quietly said again, "Shut-up Cana."

Cana was on a roll, she had them right where she wanted them. She grabbed her mug and swigged "Ya see, the trick is to use a little teeth while you suck." Lucy's only response again was "SHUT-UP CANA!"

Lucy could see the gears working behind Natsu's eyes, she could also feel the pleasurable stirring coming from him. Apparently he was working up a quick mental image, "Cut it out Natsu" she said under her breath, she knew he heard it because his eyes shifted and met with Lucy's. His face changed, it had a look she had never seen before. He was smirking and his eyes, which normally made her think of a beautiful starless night sky, now had a smoldering fire in, similar to what she sees when he fights, but a little different. It sent a shiver down her spine. He never broke eye contact with the beautiful blonde as he demanded in a cocky voice "Tell me more Cana."

Cana could taste the sexual tension and she felt a swell of pride in accomplishing her goal. "There is this one thing that sends her over the edge when you go down-"

Lucy smacked her hand that was holding her drink "Ooops… clumsy me Cana, let me go get a towel to clean that up!" she grabbed Natsu's arm and tugged him away from the bar very quickly. Looking over her shoulder at Natsu she saw that he was beaming with his normal toothy grin but he had a glint of curiosity in his eye. "Don't ask, it was one time and I was bombed out of my mind." Lucy didn't really think his grin could get any bigger.

"You're gonna have to tell me ALL about it someday" and he winked at her. Once they cleared the bar area they headed toward Levy and her table of books. "Hey Lev!"

Lucy wasn't sure why she missed it before but Levy's scent changed a little. Normally she smelled of ink and old books, it's like she added a metallic smell to it, there was something a little heavier underneath it all. Suddenly she squealed and Natsu had known immediately what the squeal was about he just chuckled to himself. Levy looked up at her like she had five heads. In response Lucy leaned and whispered with a grin that spread from ear to ear "I know what you did!" Levy flushed immediately and whispered back "how do you know that!"

Lucy exaggeratedly inhaled and Levy's eyes grew wide. "Damn really!" she started to get nervous and quickly changed the subject trying to avoid further teasing. "Rumor has it Meredy has been in the area. She was supposedly spotted in the evening so Wendy and Gajeel are going out looking for her when it gets dark."

"Awesome! I'll be happy to not feel starving all the time and so I can smell things like a normal person again. I swear this guild is just a bunch of horn-dogs. It's nauseating." Lucy giggled a little and added "present company excluded of course."

Natsu gave a fake pouty lip "Has it been that bad? I kinda like being linked to you, it takes some of the guesswork out of what's going on in that weird brain of yours."

Lucy gave him daggers "Thin ice buddy… thin ice."

Bisca approached and was beaming at Lucy "I'm so happy for you guys, no offense, but it's about time." Bisca leaned in to Lucy a little closer and slipped a small package containing 8 miniature vials "I won't be needing these obviously. It's a two month supply just need to take it once a week." Lucy looked slightly embarrassed but graciously thanked Bisca "Hey, keep me posted on how you make out".

"I sure will!" Bisca smiled warmly and walked back toward Alzack.

Out of the corner of Lucy's eye, she caught Natsu shifting closer to where Bisca had stood and heard him inhale slightly. A questioning look quickly flicked across his face. Turning to him, she got up on her tiptoes to hug him and whispered in his ear "she's pregnant."

He nodded and then a big smile spread across his face "That's great news!"

"it's hush hush still so keep it shut."

"Yes ma'am"

Lucy turned to Levy, "Hey, Natsu and I are going to head back to my place incase anyone is looking for us." Levy raised her eyebrow "Is that so?"

Lucy sighed "It's not like THAT, we have a lot to talk about." Levy couldn't help but giggle "Just make sure you talk with your words and not with your bodies"

"UGH why does everyone think we're just gonna go home and have sex?" Lucy was starting to getting a little agitated. "Like you said, we're all a bunch of horn-dogs" Levy winked.

Natsu piped in with a boyish and innocent smile "Hey just because I said I love her doesn't mean I want to touch her. I wouldn't even know where to start." Lucy turned around and smacked him in the arm "Jerk!" then under her breath, so only he could hear, she quickly followed up "Liar." He responded with a simple "yup."

They turned to to the bluenette who was eager to get back to her reading "We're out!" and they waved goodbye. They slipped out at stealthily as possible to avoid any more chit-chat.

They walked hand in hand down the streets of Magnolia neither of them feeling the cold temperatures as they strolled quietly. Natsu didn't know where to start so he figured if Lucy was whipping her brain into a frenzy and when she was ready to talk she would. Lucy was trying to gather her thoughts, now that things were quiet and it was just the two of them a million questions started plaguing her mind. She stared off into the windows of the stores they walked by seeing their reflection in the windows and feeling moments of pure joy one minute and then fear the next. They passed store and something briefly caught her eye 'I should SO get those' but the thought passed quickly as they walked by 8 Island next door. "Hey let's have an early dinner. After a day like today I have ZERO intentions of cooking." She turned to him and was not surprised to see a big smile. "Sounds like a good idea to me!" Natsu never had to be asked twice when it came to food.

They found themselves settling into a booth in the back of the establishment, Lucy finally figured out what to start the conversation with. "How do you cope with it?"

Nastu glanced above the menu "with what?"

"The relentless assault of smells and sounds, it's starting to drive me nuts."

"Luce, it's always been like this for me since I can remember. It's only been, what, two days for you?"

"Why do you let everyone think you're just the lovable idiot?"

"Because I am - silly." Natsu focused back to the menu "Feel like sharing the Family of Four meal?"

"You're not an idiot Natsu, you have your moments, but there is no way you're as innocent and dumb as you make out to be." Lucy glanced down at the menu herself "Family of Four sounds good. Can we get an extra Fry though?"

"Luce can you imagine how people would treat me if they understood what I know about them. They would be scared, I would be an outcast among misfits. All Dragon Slayer's have that problem, how we cope with it all depends on how we were raised. People get the gist but they have no clue to what extent." Natsu put the menu down "Totally an extra Fry, and a side of mayo."

Lucy put down her menu and pondered his answer "I guess you're right, you guys know some very personal stuff about everyone around you." She looked at him and made a little scrunched up face "That's still gross you know, mayo on your fries - what kind of freak does that?"

He laughed at her her disgust of his dipping habits "Your freak."

The waitress interrupted their discussion and they placed their order. Lucy was wondering what she should discuss next when Natsu had a question of his own. "What happened this morning?"

She wasn't ready to talk about that, but when she looked at him she knew there was no choice in the matter. 'If I play it dumb maybe he will drop it.' She knew this could open the flood gates to conversations that she didn't want to have in a restaurant. "What do you mean?"

"Come on Luce, what do you take me for… - heh - don't answer that, you know exactly what I mean so spill it." He really wasn't going to let her avoid this one.

"Alright, basically I was going to your house this morning to talk about things, then I saw you walk out hand in hand with Lisanna, I heard what she said to you and remember the night before I put it all together and came to the conclusion that you guys were… you know, together."

"Did it ever occur to you just keep on the path and say Good Morning? You would have quickly realized by scent alone that nothing happened." Lucy looked slightly ashamed but he continued "She had just got back from her job this morning and was bringin' me those awesome little puffy pastry things that I love." Natsu's excitement started to build as he talked about the pastries. Lucy could only start giggling, thankfully the direction of the conversation was going in her favor. Before any further discussion could happen, the waitress came over with a very large tray of food.

People around them started staring at the impressive amount of food for only the two of them. She could hear the soft mumbles that normally would go unnoticed, snide comments on how two people could eat so much and stay so fit, speculations on whether she was eating for two or not. "People are so damn rude!" was all she could state aloud as she started to eat.

"Mmm… there are some assholes out there" he replied between bites. They both focused on filling their bellies and not much was said aloud but they could each feel the flare of each other's passing emotions as they thought to themselves, glancing occasionally at each other in response.

Lucy watched as Natsu ate, he loved food, there was no doubt about that. He approached each meal like a starving child, reckless and sloppy. He would eventually slow down and begin to appreciate what he ate. She couldn't help but let her mind wander, she thought about his ferociousness and raw fighting style and compared it to the similar way in which he devoured food. She wondered what he would be like in bed, she certainly couldn't picture him being gentle and tender. She was excited at that prospect of getting to see a different side of Natsu. She started to feel the gentle pull associated with thinking of him in that way. An excited thought ran through her mind, 'I'm running next door and get that little gift!' She wiped her hands and mouth with her napkin and excused herself with having to go to little ladies room. Thankfully it was in the front of the restaurant so it wouldn't be suspicious is she darted out the door briefly. Natsu watched the sway of her hips as she walked away, her small pull of arousal settled comfortably in his body and he knew she was up to something.

She quickly grabbed what she sought and with a cheeky smile, paid the cashier. When she got back to the restaurant she beelined for the ladies room. Once inside the stall she removed her new purchase from the bag and and admired the little cotton black panties. The design was perfect, they were bikini cut and the behind was the back half of a red dragon with wings spread wide fully covering the open space. The neck snaked through the crotch of the panty and the dragon's head was positioned right at the pubic bone area. The dragon was breathing orange and red flames that spread up to the waist band. She quickly slipped off what she was wearing and tossed it in the bag. Slipping on her new pair, they fit like a glove but they were different from what she usually wore. She preferred the delicate, barely there kind. She giggled suddenly at the realization of what she was doing, 'I'm in a bathroom of a restaurant changing my panties for Natsu.' Shifting her black skirt back over her hips, she smoothed out the gold shimmering scale hemline. Looking down, she realized that her skirt did sort of match her panties 'huh guess he was right.' She quickly tossed her bag in the trash and hurried back to the table.

"Took you long enough." he could barely get the words out between chewing and biting into the last of his meal.

"Look it takes time for a lady, we can't just whip it out and be done." She glared at him "you finally done eating? I'm stuffed and ready to get out of here."

"Sure thing, let's go!" They settled their bill at the front and walked out into the cold late afternoon. The sun was just about setting as they walked the streets, the winter nights were always the longest.

Lucy couldn't help but think about the possibilities of a very toasty winter as she huddled closer into her personal walking heater, but first she knew they need to have a frank discussion before things get too heated.

#fairy tail fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #natsu x lucy #Nalu #nalu fanfiction #natsu dragneel #natsu #Fairy Tail Sensory Overload

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chris-carson · 7 years ago

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From the Mockingbird's Throat

January 3, 2014

Reading Whitman’s “Out of The Cradle Endlessly Rocking” as the dishwasher gurgles into the quiet morning filling the room. For Whitman, longing for another is a quality communicated to man by nature. A boy stands on a beach, hears the mockingbird’s song, long blues of loneliness for his mate. In singing we inflame the source of life, the reason we’re here, to fuck, to love, to find a mate and transform one’s self into “the here and hereafter.”

“The here and hereafter”; the term brings to mind the image of an open door at the end of a hallway no longer than one connecting two rooms in a small apartment. At the end is another door. Both are open. The image blurs into something like early computer graphics, the walls, the rooms, the doors fade as the seen twists through a mine shaft of sky blue. All that remains: two uninhibited door ways that alight on what looks like a man’s torso.

January 22, 2014

It is just after 5am spooning quickly escalates. Feeling my already hard cock push into her soft ass as we sleep wakes me up. Suddenly I am wide awake inside her. She yawns. The light is on. Her dark hair is wavy, sleepy, soft, but her tone is cynical. Not directed at me, but at Russia. Russia calls Ukraine a friend. She calls the destruction of her homeland a tragedy on par with the death of her sister.

Late. Vitaly Klitschko announced today he is giving Yanukovych and his regime twenty four hours to hold elections that will surely lead to his removal from the presidency, or Klitschko himself will lead a full scale attack on the riot police in Maiden. “Bleak” is how she has described life in Ukraine, and the protestors in Maidan have made it clear they are willing to die for a sense of promise. I read this on my phone while sitting in the barbers chair. It served the purpose of keeping me distracted so the barber didn't get the idea I wanted to chat. It was a warm, golden afternoon. I took the bus to Market Street. After my haircut I met Aaron at a nearby cafe. He told me he’s got no girl, no job, and no reason anymore to stay in San Francisco. Meanwhile, far off, my lover’s homeland is, what? Unraveling? Awakening? In revolutions all bets are off and in civil wars anything will happen.

January 25, 2014

Tonight Aaron came over and we played poker. I lost everything. Eventually betting it all on a pair of 9’s, hoping to steal the pot. No one fell for it. Chris won the hand with two pair. Inside, I started burning with rage. Not because I lost the money. Besides, he and Aaron kept trading me their paper money for quarters. I ended the night with six dollars in paper. A loss compared to the change I had, but it feels like more. No, I was in a rage because the bare surface on the reflective table stared back at me, gloating, a sign that I was no longer welcome there. So I left and had a cigarette. It didn't help. I was as angry when I came back to watch as when I left. Tanya offered to let me play on her team. Instead I sat alone and read the news on my phone. The situation in Ukraine is decided as far as I can see. Since the government texted the protestors (“Dear subscriber you are registered as a participant in mass disturbance”) the protestors have no choice but to succeed. Text messages mean names. Names mean addresses. Those who make it home alive if the protests fail will only live to be perhaps jailed or executed another day. They must feel that deeply.

February 19, 2014

This evening we had friends over to watch the olympics and eat pizza. Human’s have a drive to make things always and always better. We started watching the figure skating on a laptop, then I carried a larger desk top screen up from the bedroom so we could all watch together. Jake and I joked that skating would be better if the women were also contortionists and were required to end their routine by skating into a small box, that is itself on skates, and off the ice unassisted. We watched only hoping to see if the next competitor did better than the one before. Tanya is still watching upstairs while I’m in bed writing, even though she looked up the results before streaming a previously taped feed. What is the word for believing the future will be better than the past? There has to be one. Progress? People are dying in Ukraine for it. For believing the future could be better if it is given the chance to be. It is like gambling in a way. Stay at the table and play one more hand. Stop at the gas station to buy a scratcher. Bet on the next moment being better then the moment at hand, or the moment that passed.

February 24, 2014

Memory is experience tied to emotion injected with value, meaning, and understood as important for some reason. If I look back at my memories, describe them, then answer the question, “Why do I remember these moments over others?” I could answer based on what has happened since and before. In some ways memories are signifiers in themselves, and the sharing of a memory without explanation should spark connotations, signifiers, and more memories for the reader or listener. But I was reading Auden’s introduction to Goethe’s Italian Journey yesterday in Larkspur’s Piper Park, under a tree. What kind of tree, I don't know. Auden explains the importance Goethe placed in just that particular knowledge. A man can not write about the beauty of a tree without knowing dendrology, or know the beauty of clouds without understanding meteorology. One too can never know the beauty of a place and its people, or a lover, without knowing their history.

February 28, 2014

February is finished. Tomorrow will be the first day of the third month of the new year. But I guess every year only gets a few days to be called a new year. It is hard for something novel to stay special for long, when you know it will be replaced in a matter of time, only to be replaced again and again. Very early this morning I couldn't sleep. In the dark room I could see the glow of Tanya’s porcelain back and outside the sky was readying for sunrise with lavender paint. Now I’m recalling how that sliver of sky just above the roof of John O'Connell High School seen from the bedroom window this morning, and realizing I didn't fully appreciate how pretty it was. I read, sleepless in bed, about the appearance of armed, unmarked, unbadged, speechless and faceless soldiers at an airport in Crimea. I woke up Tanya at 6:30 with this news. She said the Russians are just waiting for orders to make their first move. I thought of an old Chinese man I saw walk out of a market on West Portal with a bundle of bananas. I said, the Russians are trying to take Crimea the same way, like a bundle of bananas, and wait and see if anybody notices. “I hope Ukraine doesn't become a bundle of bananas,” she said, and went back to sleep. It rained a bit in the morning. I slept through most of it. By late afternoon it became one of those special days like spring (the smell of which has been invading the city) when rain falls sideways in perfect sunshine and the air feels moist and tropical. Tonight Tanya said she would move anywhere with me if I invited her. But I plan on doing more than that.

April 7, 2014

I learned a couple good words tonight. The first one. Russian. Used in Ukraine. “Blat.” A noun for institutional and cultural favor payments. Honors, services, attributes, experiences need not be earned, they can be purchased. Sometimes to get a passport, In the old days a doctor could give “blat” to the bureaucrat in charge of pant rations for his or her patients. The second word is cogitable, a rare adjective meaning conceivable, or able to grasped by the mind. I told Chris that we should speak in more rare, or hardly used words. Like purposeful. Chris said I sound, “pretentious and fuck.”

May 19, 2014

Dream: I cut up from the street, running through fenceless backyards where light from a large unseen moon, or my own eyes, made everything visible. The aroma of pine and dirt, and the night air, muggy and breezeless on my skin. The ground black but littered with red pine needles that guided me home, but I felt no comfort. The pine canopies were collapsing on me as I ran as hard as I could down the straight line of backyards to my home’s fence. I could hear someone shouting at me from the street on the other side of the houses. The voice seemed to come from everywhere. It permeated through the splintered fence lining our back yard, through the grass beneath the rusted trampoline, through the door knob I turned to let myself into my dark home, where the voice came through the walls.

I could feel the sharpened words dig into my skin like the presence of God, somehow like teeth biting my wrists and forearms, and a nasty churning began inside of me. I’m a man, I thought, living in a world where God gives nothing but anger and hatred for me and me alone.

Then it stopped. I walked slowly through the kitchen. The house creaked under my heels. In my bedroom, I pulled open the blinds and saw a man on his back on the roof outside the window. He looked at me. The moonlight bounced off a bottle of rum in his hand. There was a girl beside him in a spaghetti strapped tank top and bathing suit bottoms. She had a toads head. Her legs were long, dangling from the drain like hanging vines. She said, zilch. All she did was smoke a cigarette, peering off the roof, out over the roofs of the houses in front of her looking just like my own, up to the cloudless starless sky washed in gray from the moon’s white light mixing with the black of night. She pulled her knees to her chest and blew smoke from her toad lips, and it floated away.

July 18, 2014

I closed the book lightly. Tanya held her phone with both hands. I was going to miss her. Her subtle nightgown was the color of lavender. About a year ago to the day, she placed restful lavender stalks in the breast pocket of my denim jacket and told me that now I could always smell lavender. It was growing in a pot of soil just outside the door leading onto the balcony. We stood there in the wind. Soon after I’d see the same restful hue alight on her bedroom walls. We watched it manifest around us in bed as the sun seeped through the shadeless windows. The sun carried the lavender on it’s white capped edge and left it on the walls before receding back out into the world as daylight. When she placed that honey dyed scent in my pocket I fell a little in love. Now I stand in front of her, bashful for giving more time to hillbillies and books then to making her feel how much I’ll miss her, in our last moments together. So I did. We made love. I left for work happy. She for Ukraine.

July 20, 2014

In pictures of the wreckage the Ukrainian sky spills like tea and milk over the edges of a table, falling behind men with their faces covered with black masks, holding large machine guns. The land looks lush and deep green, almost purple at one layer, faded green at another, and at the next layer golden brown, and going on like that over the earth. Is this right? I only see it in pictures on news sites, while you are there, though far from this pictured landscape where all of those people became corpses in a mess of fire, smoke, and metal made into wreckage.

An article by the Kyiv Post says the rebels are moving the corpses to refrigerated train cars, to transport them someplace where international representatives can identify them and decide where they should be buried. The writer said, “but the mutilated and decaying bodies were most definitely inside, as evidenced by the pungent odor leaking from the unsealed wagon doors.”

July 21, 2014

In the main branch of the public library, drifting through the main fourier on the ground level, I had this brief moment where I felt like I was an alien species dropped from the moon. Like I was experiencing earth for the very first time. I can't say what brought it on, but it was a very clear thought, one that cut through all other potential thoughts, and bumped up hard against the front of my mind. The echoes of foot steps and clicking computer keys, the muffled voices. All these things filled the space up to the glass dome sky light, from which a heavy gray light dropped in as I looked up to see the somnolent movements of fog swirling overhead. It was blueless. Utterly without blue. A thick woolen layer of fog that didn't seem to be moving at all, until I looked again, and saw a few fibrous strands of fluffed moisture swirl too. There is no indication, or demarcation of worlds at the library. The outside comes in, and you sense it in your nostrils, a sour burning smell. Outside people walk around inside half dead on drugs and booze. Inside people saunter outside and avoid the wheelchairs and beggars. Smells from the street penetrate the library. Madness penetrates the library. It mingles so naturally with the children on summer vacation, with their nannies or tired mothers. All of these things mingle so well with the endless variety of world knowledge surrounding everyone at the library. The library maybe the most charitable place in the city, the most democratic place as well. Neighborhoods on the other side if this sliding glass door that whooshes open for me now, are being broken up by the street into subsets based on race, yes, but mostly money. And this fragmentation lives in aesthetics and taste. You know how you can tell if a restaurant is for you by the way the light glitters off the window into your eyes that look in from the street? By the style of light bulb? Well, the library is gray, without aesthetic. Meaning the library is for everyone. It is in its insistence to remain dull and gray that it is its most charitable.

July 22, 2014

Since Tanya left I've had to watch my money closely. The food in the refrigerator is rotting. I haven't gone to the grocery store. Only a few dollars remain in my bank account that I will have to stretch for the next week. Am I collapsing without her? With her, I know I’m me, and I’m alright. Without her I am incorporeal. I’m removed from myself and instead of living as I am, I watch me live, stare at my own shadow walking down the street. Without her all I have are books, which have been nice company, cigarettes, which have been an unwanted guest, and an incessant need to masturbate. But I’ve been picking my skin less.

I don't understand how the day moves without her, or if it moves at all, as night seems to fall without warning. I sat with Jake in the Pan Handle, chain smoking. The air was cool, and a light, yet cutting wind wound its way through the trees. But the hours leading to that moment felt like a dream I may have even forgotten.

Tanya, the effort I make to remedy the nights without you stand in stark contrast to the things I do during the day to pass things by. A man can go through hours of light dead if he wants, and be able to get away with it. There is no meaning to my job, no meaning to the mail I avoid opening, to the calls I avoid answering. No meaning to these cigarettes. But at night, my loneliness is full of meaning. Every motion I make deliberate and timed to get me back to the death day hours safely. My hands are soaked in coconut oil. I asked you once if you wanted to know what it would be like to be a man. You sat on me the same way this faceless woman is sitting in the video I watch. When I cum my hips lift off the bed, and semen splashes on my face, chest, all over my belly. It smells like wet grass and sweat. My tongue lurches from my mouth and licks my lips and I taste it, sour, warm. If I can’t have you now, I’ll be you tonight. You and in one body. I slowly massage the semen on my belly as you would if it were gleaming off of your smooth porcelain body. But my body is coarse ape hair, and the sound of semen moving through my body hair reminds me of walking through dead leaves in autumn.

In the bathroom I see myself in the mirror. Streaks of yellowish gray fluid shimmer on my jaw in harsh light. Have I heard your voice since you left? I would gladly die to hear you even swallow water.

July 23, 2014

Cinnamon layered the inside of the bowl like sand clinging to a white rock face. What was left of the granola and milk I’d eaten reminded me of moist rocks and the smell of mud. Brown milk rested in a little pool at the bottom. On a cobalt blue tea plate were the cold and gnawed strawberry tops, their leafy crowns dry and brittle. On the radio, Dutch voices mourned the arrival of the dead, raged at the way the corpses were treated, and argued over the importance of having the rest of the bodies returned home.

During breakfast I was able to download Viber. It took fumbling with the password, which I again forgot and had to reset after three missed tries, and then a world of aggravation trying to update my billing information. I entered everything exactly as I believe it to be and the machine said I was wrong.

But it turned out that I didn't even need to enter that, and happily skipped the screen by checking the word none, and tapping the word done. Viber downloaded. I finished my breakfast brimming with excitement to finally hear your voice and tell you so much of what I’ve been up to without you.

July 24, 2014

I finished a new book this morning, Victoria by Knut Hamsun, and Hamsun is only too cruel for what he did to those young lovers. And either from Hamsun’s cruelty or the hangover I feel from last night’s edibles, today the world feels dull and flat. I’m closed off. Drained of everything. Every thought I’ve had about writing you has been countered by a strong desire to lie on the couch all day and watch The Simpsons. What could I say? I just miss you, that’s all. I’ve filled pages in notebooks talking about it and each page could be rewritten to simply say, “I’d rather spend the next days with my hand in the garbage disposal then without you.”

Then my phone buzzes, and it is you. It is your body outlined by an oval shaped mirror. Your dark hair draped down your smooth back that flows like a waterfall into your perfectly round ass, all curves and softness. And are you cupping your breasts a little, keeping them hidden from me?

I’m coming alive.

It is not that you are a figment from a dream, something I imagined, but you are an entity from another realm, another life, something I never could have imagined, even if I were a great writer. No imaginative capability could have created you. Even in my deepest heart I couldn't have fathomed you for myself, and somehow, you’ve found me.

The message with your picture reads, “Something for lazy days.”

Then another that reads, “You’ll have to read Victoria to me when I come back.”

But I missed these messages when you sent them, and in the long wait you wrote, anxiously, “Hello?”

But I didnt mean to miss them, believe me. I write, “Oh my God, Hello!”

And about the book I say, “Yes, yes I will read it to you. I will sing it to you if that’s what you want me to do.”

This piece was written specifically for a writing contest I saw advertised in a magazine. A London based publisher called Fish wanted creative memoir for an anthology they were putting together. They were even giving out a little money. I used it as an opportunity to confront two challenges, the first being the utilization of raw material from journals, the second being writing about a lover. This piece did not win the writing contest, but was shortlisted, whatever that means.

-Chris Carson

#Essays #2016 #Fish Publishing

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