#MALCOLM APPRECIATION LIFE

[underestimated-shadow]

“I wanted to bring people back to believing in this character. To bring my reality to it. I guess I've always liked a challenge.”

– Timothy Dalton

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Dirty words are politically potent

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

Making up words is a perfectly cromulent passtime, and while most of the words we coin disappear as soon as they fall from our lips, every now and again, you find a word that fits so nice and kentucky in the public discourse that it acquires a life of its own:

http://meaningofliff.free.fr/definition.php3?word=Kentucky

I've been trying to increase the salience of digital human rights in the public imagination for a quarter of a century, starting with the campaign to get people to appreciate that the internet matters, and that tech policy isn't just the delusion that the governance of spaces where sad nerds argue about Star Trek is somehow relevant to human thriving:

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2010/10/04/small-change-malcolm-gladwell

Now, eventually people figured out that a) the internet mattered and, b) it was going dreadfully wrong. So my job changed again, from "how the internet is governed matters" to "you can't fix the internet with wishful thinking," for example, when people said we could solve its problems by banning general purpose computers:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/01/10/lockdown-the-coming-war-on-general-purpose-computing/

Or by banning working cryptography:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/09/04/oh-for-fucks-sake-not-this-fucking-bullshit-again-cryptography-edition/

Or by redesigning web browsers to treat their owners as threats:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

Or by using bots to filter every public utterance to ensure that they don't infringe copyright:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/09/today-europe-lost-internet-now-we-fight-back

Or by forcing platforms to surveil and police their users' speech (aka "getting rid of Section 230"):

https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/

Along the way, many of us have coined words in a bid to encapsulate the abstract, technical ideas at the core of these arguments. This isn't a vanity project! Creating a common vocabulary is a necessary precondition for having the substantive, vital debates we'll need to tackle the real, thorny issues raised by digital systems. So there's "free software," "open source," "filternet," "chat control," "back doors," and my own contributions, like "adversarial interoperability":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

Or "Competitive Compatibility" ("comcom"), a less-intimidatingly technical term for the same thing:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/12/competitive-compatibility-year-review

These have all found their own niches, but nearly all of them are just that: niche. Some don't even rise to "niche": they're shibboleths, insider terms that confuse and intimidate normies and distract from the real fights with semantic ones, like whether it's "FOSS" or "FLOSS" or something else entirely:

https://opensource.stackexchange.com/questions/262/what-is-the-difference-between-foss-and-floss

But every now and again, you get a word that just kills. That brings me to "enshittification," a word I coined in 2022:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

"Enshittification" took root in my hindbrain, rolling around and around, agglomerating lots of different thoughts and critiques I'd been making for years, crystallizing them into a coherent thesis:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

This kind of spontaneous crystallization is the dividend of doing lots of work in public, trying to take every half-formed thought and pin it down in public writing, something I've been doing for decades:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

After those first couple articles, "enshittification" raced around the internet. There's two reasons for this: first, "enshittification" is a naughty word that's fun to say. Journalists love getting to put "shit" in their copy:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/15/crosswords/linguistics-word-of-the-year.html

Radio journalists love to tweak the FCC with cheekily bleeped syllables in slightly dirty compound words:

https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/otm/projects/enshitification

And nothing enlivens an academic's day like getting to use a word like "enshittification" in a journal article (doubtless this also amuses the editors, peer-reviewers, copyeditors, typesetters, etc):

https://scholar.google.com/scholar?hl=en&as_sdt=0%2C5&q=enshittification&btnG=&oq=ensh

That was where I started, too! The first time I used "enshittification" was in a throwaway bad-tempered rant about the decay of Tripadvisor into utter uselessness, which drew a small chorus of appreciative chuckles about the word:

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1550457808222552065

The word rattled around my mind for five months before attaching itself to my detailed theory of platform decay. But it was that detailed critique, coupled with a minor license to swear, that gave "enshittification" a life of its own. How do I know that the theory was as important as the swearing? Because the small wave of amusement that followed my first use of "enshittification" petered out in less than a day. It was only when I added the theory that the word took hold.

Likewise: how do I know that the theory needed to be blended with swearing to break out of the esoteric realm of tech policy debates (which the public had roundly ignored for more than two decades)? Well, because I spent two decades writing about this stuff without making anything like the dents that appeared once I added an Anglo-Saxon monosyllable to that critique.

Adding "enshittification" to the critique got me more column inches, a longer hearing, a more vibrant debate, than anything else I'd tried. First, Wired availed itself of the Creative Commons license on my second long-form article on the subject and reprinted it as a 4,200-word feature. I've been writing for Wired for more than thirty years and this is by far the longest thing I've published with them – a big, roomy, discursive piece that was run verbatim, with every one of my cherished darlings unmurdered.

That gave the word – and the whole critique, with all its spiky corners – a global airing, leading to more pickup and discussion. Eventually, the American Dialect Society named it their "Word of the Year" (and their "Tech Word of the Year"):

https://americandialect.org/2023-word-of-the-year-is-enshittification/

"Enshittification" turns out to be catnip for language nerds:

https://becauselanguage.com/90-enpoopification/#transcript-60

I've been dragged into (good natured) fights over the German, Spanish, French and Italian translations for the term. When I taped an NPR show before a live audience with ASL interpretation, I got to watch a Deaf fan politely inform the interpreter that she didn't need to finger-spell "enshittification," because it had already been given an ASL sign by the US Deaf community:

https://maximumfun.org/episodes/go-fact-yourself/ep-158-aida-rodriguez-cory-doctorow/

I gave a speech about enshittification in Berlin and published the transcript:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

Which prompted the rock-ribbed Financial Times to get in touch with me and publish the speech – again, nearly verbatim – as a whopping 6,400 word feature in their weekend magazine:

https://www.ft.com/content/6fb1602d-a08b-4a8c-bac0-047b7d64aba5

Though they could have had it for free (just as Wired had), they insisted on paying me (very well, as it happens!), as did De Zeit:

https://www.zeit.de/digital/internet/2024-03/plattformen-facebook-google-internet-cory-doctorow

This was the start of the rise of enshittification. The word is spreading farther than ever, in ways that I have nothing to do with, along with the critique I hung on it. In other words, the bit of string that tech policy wonks have been pushing on for a quarter of a century is actually starting to move, and it's actually accelerating.

Despite this (or more likely because of it), there's a growing chorus of "concerned" people who say they like the critique but fret that it is being held back because you can't use it "at church or when talking to K-12 students" (my favorite variant: "I couldn't say this at a NATO conference"). I leave it up to you whether you use the word with your K-12 students, NATO generals, or fellow parishoners (though I assure you that all three groups are conversant with the dirty little word at the root of my coinage). If you don't want to use "enshittification," you can coin your own word – or just use one of the dozens of words that failed to gain public attention over the past 25 years (might I suggest "platform decay?").

What's so funny about all this pearl-clutching is that it comes from people who universally profess to have the intestinal fortitude to hear the word "enshittification" without experiencing psychological trauma, but worry that other people might not be so strong-minded. They continue to say this even as the most conservative officials in the most staid of exalted forums use the word without a hint of embarrassment, much less apology:

https://www.independent.ie/business/technology/chairman-of-irish-social-media-regulator-says-europe-should-not-be-seduced-by-mario-draghis-claims/a526530600.html

I mean, I'm giving a speech on enshittification next month at a conference where I'm opening for the Secretary General of the United Nations:

https://icanewdelhi2024.coop/welcome/pages/Programme

After spending half my life trying to get stuff like this into the discourse, I've developed some hard-won, informed views on how ideas succeed:

First: the minor obscenity is a feature, not a bug. The marriage of something long and serious to something short and funny is a happy one that makes both the word and the ideas better off than they'd be on their own. As Lenny Bruce wrote in his canonical work in the subject, the aptly named How to Talk Dirty and Influence People:

I want to help you if you have a dirty-word problem. There are none, and I'll spell it out logically to you.

Here is a toilet. Specifically-that's all we're concerned with, specifics-if I can tell you a dirty toilet joke, we must have a dirty toilet. That's what we're all talking about, a toilet. If we take this toilet and boil it and it's clean, I can never tell you specifically a dirty toilet joke about this toilet. I can tell you a dirty toilet joke in the Milner Hotel, or something like that, but this toilet is a clean toilet now. Obscenity is a human manifestation. This toilet has no central nervous system, no level of consciousness. It is not aware; it is a dumb toilet; it cannot be obscene; it's impossible. If it could be obscene, it could be cranky, it could be a Communist toilet, a traitorous toilet. It can do none of these things. This is a dirty toilet here.

Nobody can offend you by telling a dirty toilet story. They can offend you because it's trite; you've heard it many, many times.

https://www.dacapopress.com/titles/lenny-bruce/how-to-talk-dirty-and-influence-people/9780306825309/

Second: the fact that a neologism is sometimes decoupled from its theoretical underpinnings and is used colloquially is a feature, not a bug. Many people apply the term "enshittification" very loosely indeed, to mean "something that is bad," without bothering to learn – or apply ��� the theoretical framework. This is good. This is what it means for a term to enter the lexicon: it takes on a life of its own. If 10,000,000 people use "enshittification" loosely and inspire 10% of their number to look up the longer, more theoretical work I've done on it, that is one million normies who have been sucked into a discourse that used to live exclusively in the world of the most wonkish and obscure practitioners. The only way to maintain a precise, theoretically grounded use of a term is to confine its usage to a small group of largely irrelevant insiders. Policing the use of "enshittification" is worse than a self-limiting move – it would be a self-inflicted wound. As I said in that Berlin speech:

Enshittification names the problem and proposes a solution. It's not just a way to say 'things are getting worse' (though of course, it's fine with me if you want to use it that way. It's an English word. We don't have der Rat für englische Rechtschreibung. English is a free for all. Go nuts, meine Kerle).

Finally: "coinage" is both more – and less – than thinking of the word. After the American Dialect Society gave honors to "enshittification," a few people slid into my mentions with citations to "enshittification" that preceded my usage. I find this completely unsurprising, because English is such a slippery and playful tongue, because English speakers love to swear, and because infixing is such a fun way to swear (e.g. "unfuckingbelievable"). But of course, I hadn't encountered any of those other usages before I came up with the word independently, nor had any of those other usages spread appreciably beyond the speaker (it appears that each of the handful of predecessors to my usage represents an act of independent coinage).

If "coinage" was just a matter of thinking up the word, you could write a small python script that infixed the word "shit" into every syllable of every word in the OED, publish the resulting text file, and declare priority over all subsequent inventive swearers.

On the one hand, coinage takes place when the coiner a) independently invents a word; and b) creates the context for that word that causes it to escape from the coiner's immediate milieu and into the wider world.

But on the other hand – and far more importantly – the fact that a successful coinage requires popular uptake by people unknown to the coiner means that the coiner only ever plays a small role in the coinage. Yes, there would be no popularization without the coinage – but there would also be no coinage without the popularization. Words belong to groups of speakers, not individuals. Language is a cultural phenomenon, not an individual one.

Which is rather the point, isn't it? After a quarter of a century of being part of a community that fought tirelessly to get a serious and widespread consideration of tech policy underway, we're closer than ever, thanks, in part, to "enshittification." If someone else independently used that word before me, if some people use the word loosely, if the word makes some people uncomfortable, that's fine, provided that the word is doing what I want it to do, what I've devoted my life to doing.

The point of coining words isn't the pilkunnussija's obsession with precise usage, nor the petty glory of being known as a coiner, nor ensuring that NATO generals' virgin ears are protected from the word "shit" – a word that, incidentally, is also the root of "science":

https://www.arrantpedantry.com/2019/01/24/science-and-shit/

Isn't language fun?

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/14/pearl-clutching/#this-toilet-has-no-central-nervous-system

[readyforevolution]

Malcolm X Was Obsessed with His Watch

I have less patience with someone who doesn't wear a watch than with anyone else, for this type is not time-conscious. In all our deeds, the proper value and respect for time determines success or failure.

-- Malcolm X

Wristwatches played an interesting and important role in the life of Malcolm X. The above quote (told to Alex Haley for The Autobiography of Malcolm X) shows how deeply he respected time, appreciated others who understood its significance, and viewed the watch as an identifier for such people.

"You won't find anybody more time-conscious than I am. I live by my watch, keeping appointments. Even when I'm using my car, I drive by my watch, not my speedometer. Time is more important to me than distance."

"Anything I do today, I regard as urgent. No man is given but so much time to accomplish whatever is his life's work. My life in particular never has stayed fixed in one position for very long. You have seen how throughout my life, I have often known unexpected drastic changes."

* Malcolm X was given his watch by one of his brothers after he had left prison.

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-twenty

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: We worked so fucking HARD on this! Please appreciate it and please 🙏 pay attention to everything.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic

NOAH

I stood in front of the mirror, straightening out my shirt, and made sure my hair was perfectly pulled back into the low bun. Excitement filled my veins, making me jittery, knowing that Y/N would be showing up shortly. We all were ready to help her and Malcolm set up for Chase’s surprise birthday party. 

Y/N had been texting me the last couple of days stressing out about every last-minute detail for this party. Chase was never big on celebrating his birthday but he was turning twenty-five so she and Malcolm wanted to make sure that everything went off without a hitch tonight. 

I also was nervous to see Y/N again after our conversation at Davis’ house the other night because she knew the truth; most of it anyway. Bailey and I were done, something Y/N knew. But with the stress of the party, we couldn’t continue our conversation from the other night. 

The nerves were eating away at me, like a disease, so I started pacing in front of the mirror, trying to hype myself up. I woke up anxious this morning and even after meditating earlier, I still couldn’t get rid of this feeling. 

I pinched my cheeks and smiled. 

“Hi Y/N,” I said to myself. 

No, I sound like an idiot. 

“Hi, angel. You look gorgeous today.”  

Eh, a little bit better. 

I continued to pace back and forth in my room, muttering words under my breath. 

 “Hi, angel. You look beautiful today. I’m happy to have the party here.”

My feet came to a halt as I snorted to myself. “I’m happy to have the party here. Who the fuck says that? That’s so stupid. It’s just Y/N; her. Why am I overthinking talking to her?”

I get those ridiculous butterflies, even in my current state. It’s like being in a botanical garden, waiting for them to emerge. Waiting for Y/N at any stage feels like that. 

“Shit, that’s corny isn’t it?” I muttered under my breath as I ran a hand over my face. 

Another thing I suppose I’ve noticed about myself all this time lately. Growth in words- is this maturity? A grown man with grown feelings. 

I often saw my future as not so bright and wasn’t sure if this thing called life would work out. So, I stood here in front of the mirror in my bedroom and thought that maybe this life that I yearned for would work out and Y/N possibly, maybe, needed to be included in it. 

With a final deep breath, I threw on my leather jacket and then checked myself over in the mirror one last time. The black shirt underneath the jacket was pristine, not a hint of hair or lint, and my white wash skinny jeans had a hole in the knee showcasing the rose tattoo. 

Y/N would be here any minute. My mind went straight to what she looked like, what she’d be wearing, and how badly I wanted her perfume to penetrate my senses.

As I bounded down the first set of steps, I turned on the landing to retreat down the rest of the stairs but came to a halt when her presence was immediately felt. In the threshold stood Malcolm and Y/N, talking with Jesse who answered the door. The bright smile on her face made my stomach twinge in a good way as my breath caught in my throat. 

Her long hair fell to the middle of her back in waves. The black dress hugged every one of her curves in all the right places, stopping right beneath her ass. Her tattoos were on full display tonight. The swell of her breasts poked through the mesh part of her dress that covered her neck and chest.

I wasn’t sure if Y/N having a glowing halo effect was normal, hence why the nickname I had for her only made sense.

Angel. 

It began to feel like she was specifically meant to shine for me alone, a long time ago, even with that time we were distant. I couldn’t possibly imagine another man seeing it or enjoying the warmth Y/N brought. My palms were sweating, I knew this had to be it. I had to make the move.

“You’re such a sweet talker, Jesse,” Y/N giggled while playfully rolling her eyes, tapping his cheek twice.

As I took the last step, stepping into the living room, something fell from her bag causing her to bend over to pick it up. Orie snuck up beside me and tilted his gaze toward Y/N’s ass; something I noticed immediately. 

“Orie,” I seethed low. 

His eyes snapped over to me, a sly smirk on his lips. “Y/N looks good, huh?” 

My jaw ticked but I let out a deep breath while counting to my ten in my head. 

I’m not mad. It’s innocent. It’s Orie, he knows how I feel about Y/N.

As Y/N stood tall, a bright shine from around her neck caught my attention, and gone was the anger replaced with sheer adoration. She was wearing the necklace and bracelet I bought her for her birthday. 

My heart skipped a beat as our eyes finally locked. 

“Hi,” Y/N smiled warmly. 

“Hi, angel.” 

I shifted on my feet, suddenly hot under her bright gaze. She looked absolutely breathtaking in that dress and how it hugged her tits perfectly made my cock throb in my jeans.  She softly tucked a strand behind her ear and our eyes never left each other. Malcolm looked between us, a sly smirk on his lips. 

“Y/N, why don’t you hand me the bags? I’ll start getting things set up while Noah gives you the tour,” Malcolm said while taking the bags of party supplies from her. 

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Sure.” 

As she walked past me, the scent of her perfume filled my senses and my cock now ached when I remembered how pretty she looked while sitting on top of me, her hands grasping my braids. 

“Oh, you smell good,” Y/N smiled up at me as I began leading her to the kitchen so she could set down the rest of the bags Malcolm couldn't carry. 

My cheeks warmed and I rubbed the back of my neck. “Thanks-uh, so do you.” 

“Let me take those from you,” Jolly smiled while giving Y/N a friendly kiss on her cheek. 

“Thank you, Jolly.” She smiled. “Did we get enough alcohol? I ordered the pizzas but I won’t have time to pick them up. Oh shit, I forgot to buy cups!” 

Y/N went to turn on her heels but I gently grabbed her shoulders to keep her in place in front of me, her back to my chest. 

“You need to relax, angel. You're trying to control so much of this party. Let us help you,” I rubbed out the tense muscles in her shoulder. 

“I just want to make things perfect for Chase,” she relaxed in my embrace. “The last few years of his birthday have been filled with unnecessary drama.” 

My nose brushed along her hairline. “It will be fine. Davis will pick up the pizzas and we’ll have Nick buy the cups.” 

“Someone has to pick up Chase. If I go, he’ll be able to read me and know something is up,” Malcolm said while unloading all the party supplies. 

“Fuck, I can’t. My car is filled with the balloons,” Y/N tensed under my touch so I was quick to offer a solution. 

“Okay, so this is what we will do. Davis will pick up the pizzas. Nick will stop at the store to buy the cups. Michael and Orie are in charge of setting up the alcohol. Jolly and Jesse, you guys figure out the music. Folio will pick up Chase. Those two can talk about drums or cymbals.” 

Y/N instantly relaxed once again and leaned her head against my shoulder. “Matt is picking up the cake.”

My hands rubbed her arms. “See? We have everything figured out. There’s no need to stress, angel.” 

“I know,” she let out a deep breath. “Thank you guys for letting us have the party here. It’s a nice place, lots of space. ” 

Michael chuckled while setting up the makeshift bar on the kitchen island. “You’d think so with the five of us but I’m starting to think we’re out-growing this place.” 

“Soon, it’ll be four of you. I move out at the end of the month,” Orie said as he walked into the kitchen, giving Y/N and Malcolm a fast fist bump. 

“Oh, that’s right. With the Mrs,” Jesse smirked. 

Orie rolled his eyes with a small smirk. “She’s not the Mrs. Yet.” 

Y/N watched my roommates bicker back and forth with a bright smile which in turn, made me hold onto her a bit tighter, not wanting to let her go. From day one, she always fit in with us, never once feeling left out. Everyone welcomed her with open arms and for that, I’ll always be grateful for that. 

“Angel,” I said into her hairline.

Y/N eyes sparkled as she gazed up at me, a loose strand of silky hair fell into her face, so I brushed it away and let my finger graze over her cheek. 

“Hm?” Her voice was quiet. 

“Let me show you upstairs,” my voice matched hers.

The corner of her lips lifted in a smile. “I’d love that.” 

As the others chatted amongst themselves, I led Y/N back to the living room, hand now on her back, and as we reached the stairs Bryan walked through the front door with Matt. 

“Hi!” Y/N smiled and stepped away from my embrace to give them their own separate hugs. “Malcolm is in the kitchen, he can show you guys where to set everything up.” 

Matt smiled while letting his hand rest in the middle of her back. “You look beautiful, Y/N.” 

I kept a watchful gaze on her, even though there wasn’t a need to.

“Oh, such a sweetheart,” she playfully pinched his cheeks. “You forgot to grab the cake didn’t you?” 

“Don’t worry,” he waved her off. “Davis will pick it up on his way over here; after he gets the pizza. I already texted him.” 

Rolling her eyes, Y/N turned her attention to Bryan. “Did you bring it?” 

He held up his camera bag. “Everything is ready to go.” 

“Awesome,” she clapped her hands with excitement. 

“What are you planning?” I questioned while crossing my arms over my chest. 

Y/N merely shrugged with a coy smirk. “Oh, nothing. Now are you going to finish giving me the tour or what?” 

I held out my arm towards the staircase on my left. “After you, angel.” 

Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor only to be muted by the carpet on the stairs and I followed close behind her, Matt’s voice calling after us. 

“Leave the door open, you two!” 

Without Y/N seeing, I flipped off Matt and then led her down the long hallway, telling her whose room was whose. She walked in front of me, her scent filling my senses the entire time, and my hands ghosted over her hips as I led her to the last door on the left.

“Welcome to my abode! Mi casa su casa and all that shit,” I said as we came to a stop. 

Y/N giggled. “And you said you couldn’t speak Spanish.” 

“I tried, gave up,” I chuckled, now grasping her hips from behind. 

With her standing in front of me, I stuck my arms over her shoulders to reach for the doorknob. But before I opened the door, I rested my chin on her shoulder, and Y/N immediately relaxed in my embrace. 

“This is my room,” I breathed against the crook of her neck. 

I saw her skin prick like a cactus as my breath tickled her sensitive skin. I only imagined her nipples probably did too but had to switch thoughts to avoid my cock twitching in case Y/N could feel it brush against her ass. I gazed down at her, my eyes immediately watching the rise and fall of her chest, and I licked my lips at the sight of them. 

A light click sounded as I opened my door, gently patting Y/N’s thigh so she could walk inside. She took a few tentative steps but I didn’t let her go far without me right behind her. It’s been so long since I felt her this close and now nothing was stopping us.

My heart was so heavy with my devotion, that I nearly kneeled at her feet.  If she only knew, I would do anything for her- to the fucking grave. Either way what bliss. This would be the best chance for me to explain it; to cave and tell her those three words.

I craved Y/N’s touch, her in this room was beginning to consume me and I’d fucking let her.  I watched her eyes close and open slowly, her body movements so gentle she leaned into my tiny touches. The way my hand grazed up her back. The way my fingers danced with hers as we stepped through the threshold of my bedroom; her pinking hooking with mine. I was so close to forgetting what the event tonight was. All I wanted was her all to my fucking self and I wanted to throw her on my bed only to rip off that dress. My tongue craved to taste every single part of her. 

Y/N’s eyes took in all aspects of my room; my desk with my computer. 

“Levi, huh?” She smirked while pointing to my monitor. 

Earlier, I was watching Attack on Titan and paused the episode, never exiting out of the app. 

I shrugged while stuffing my hands deep into my pockets. “You know he’s my favorite, he’s pushing for Naurto to move for the top spot.”

“It’s the hair I bet,” she began looking around my room once again. 

To the mirror, my bed, and the rosary beads. Her eyes darted from the bed back to me, a silent question. 

I nodded, letting her know it was fine to sit, which she did by resting on the edge. I followed, not leaving any space between us. 

“Shit,” Y/N cursed with a groan. “I don’t know why I even wore heels. They kill my ankles.” 

Bending over, I lifted both her feet into my lap to remove her heels then set them on the bed behind me. 

“But they complete my outfit,” she pouted. 

I chuckled while tracing a finger over the small tattoo on her ankle, the one that mirrored mine in design and spot. 

“Just rest your feet for a little while,” I suggested, eyes still on her tattoo. 

Mine subconsciously began to itch with the memories of when we got the tattoos. Her birthday. 

“Oh,” I said suddenly, remembering what I saw online earlier. “I saw that Hollow Souls are going on tour again?” 

Y/N smiled brightly, pure excitement on her face. “Yeah. Who told you that?” 

I waved her off with the hand that wasn’t grazing over her ankle. “Oh, must have been the little birds.” 

“Sneaky birds. But did you see who we’re touring with?”  

I hummed. “Nothing, nowhere. I bet you’re fangirling on the inside right now, huh?” I teased. 

“Can you blame me?” She scoffed. “Joe’s been one of my favorite artists for years now and to experience touring with him, I haven’t stopped smiling since I got the call.”  

When I first found out about this tour, I expected myself to get jealous at the thought of her being on the road with another man while being so far from me but surprisingly, I felt at peace. I trusted Y/N and knew that although she might have had an artist appreciation, I would have liked to think that her heart stayed with me. 

“It will be a sick tour,” I nodded. “Maybe I’ll come out to a show and support you guys. How does it feel knowing this is your first tour as a three piece?” 

Y/N played with the hem of her dress. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited; nervous but very excited. But it's still daunting to know that we have to go up there without a screamer, you know? Everyone seems to be loving our new singles but having to go out there and perform them is scary.” 

“Well, if you’re ever interested in taking up screaming. There’s this great vocal coach that I’ve been looking into. She helps out a lot of artists and I have my first lesson with her at the end of the month,” I stated, fingers still grazing over her skin. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks Mochi,” Y/N reached over and ruffled my hair. 

I dragged my finger up her calf now, her skin pricking under my touch, and I dared a glance to her inner thighs and my cock was now aching in my jeans. Her head turned towards my mirror closet as she watched our reflections. 

“Hm, a mirror right in front of your bed. Kinky,” she winked. 

By now my cock was straining against my zipper and knew I needed to do something about it soon otherwise it would be an issue for the rest of the night. There it went again, my mind completely doing the opposite of what I wanted right now. All I saw were those erotic images over and over.

Y/N kneeled down on the floor between my legs and I shivered under her touch again as her nails raked up and down my thighs. I watched her actions from the mirror behind her, eyes drinking at the sight of her large back tattoo and the perkiness of her round ass. My cock twitched in front of her face as she gazed up at me, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I’ve dreamed of the way you tasted, Noah.”

I shook the thought away but it didn't last long because another image of Y/N flashed in my mind. 

A guttural groan sounded from the back of my throat and I titled my head up towards the ceiling, my long hair cascading down my back. I gripped Y/N’s head with a vise grip and guided her up and down; slowly at first until I reached the resistance of the back of her throat and buried my cock deep in there.

That dream was so vivid when I had it months ago, just as the memories are now. 

Her pussy clenched over my cock as she came undone, her arousal spreading down my thighs. I hooked my fingers in her mouth to hold her up so she could watch us in the mirror now.

“Watch as I fuck your pretty pussy,” I ordered, long hair covering my face.

Y/N did the best she could to nod with my hooks in her mouth and my pace became relentless, slamming into her so hard and fast that the noises echoed throughout my room. The burning felt warm at the base of my spine as my heart pounded wildly in my chest, my own orgasm so fucking close to destroying me.

“Noah?” 

My eyes snapped away from our reflections in the mirror to Y/N’s ethereal face, my fingers still grazing up and down her leg. “Hm?”

“Well, before you zoned out,” she giggled while removing her legs from my lap only to sit on her knees. “I was going to tell you, I love your house and your room! It’s- it’s cute. The LED lights are a nice touch.” 

I smiled. “I love the way you look with them. Soaked in neon glows.” 

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she looked over my shoulder towards the wall where I had old Bad Omens tour posters framed. 

“No way,” she muttered while climbing off the bed to gaze upon the frames. “You kept the tour poster with Hollow Souls?” 

I rose to my feet, brushing away any hair or lint from my leather jacket, and stood behind her. 

“Yeah, it was our first tour together. It may not have ended in the best way but it’s where we met,” I brushed away her hair from her neck, seeing the tattoo of her large snake back piece peek through the top of her dress. 

Fuck, this had to be my favorite tattoo of hers. It fit her back so well, each groove of her spine. 

I really should book that appointment.

My fingers now grazed over her bracelet and I hummed low in approval. “These look really good on you, angel.” 

“I wear them all the time now. I never take them off. Not even in the shower,” she winked while gazing over at me.

Fuck. 

My cock twitched and I let out a low groan, imagining Y/N in the shower with her necklace and bracelet only on her unholy skin. I leaned my face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent, and when my lips brushed against the skin behind her ear, Y/N shivered at my touch. 

“Noah,” she breathed. 

“I’ve missed the way you smelled,” my teeth grazed on the shell of her ear. 

Slowly, Y/N turned in my embrace, now gazing up at me through those long lashes, and I sucked in a breath at her sheer beauty. That magnetic pull that we always felt between us began to vibrate within us, causing her to lean up towards my lips. I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on the side of her neck briefly before cupping her cheek. 

“Mochi,” she moaned softly.

I swallowed, my voice just above a whisper. “Angel.”

Y/N’s hands grasped at my arms, her nails digging into the leather of my jacket, and I continued to hold her face in between my hands. Our lips were so fucking close now, I could feel her warm breath fan across until the taste of raspberry lingered on my bottom lip. 

“Hey, Davis is wondering if the pizzas are already paid for?” Jesse came barreling through the closed door. 

My head snapped to the right, eyes narrowing at him as he peeled an orange with a smug smile on his face. 

“Shit, did I interrupt something? I tend to do that. Just with different fruits,” Jesse popped a piece of orange in his mouth. 

I sighed and let my hands fall from Y/N’s so I could point a finger at him. “You’re peeling an orange and the juices are dripping all over my clean floor.”

“It’s fine. See?” He wiped some of the juice with his foot, his sock getting citrus on it, smearing it all over the hardwood. 

“Jesse,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “I spent all day cleaning and mopping this entire space.” 

He rolled his eyes and finished the rest of the orange in one bite. “So, Davis.” 

Y/N, who was stifling a giggle behind her hand, nodded. “Yes, the pizzas are already paid for. It’s under Malcolm’s name.”

“Cool. Speaking of which, Malcolm needs help with the banner.” 

“Of course he does,” Y/N shook her head with a chuckle and began to walk away. 

My hand reached for hers, locking around her wrist. “Do you want some help?” 

She patted my hand lightly. “I’d love that, Noah.” 

As Y/N put her heels back on, I pushed Jess out of my room, orange peels and all. Then I led Y/N back downstairs with my hands on her hips. 

“I swear, I’m going to have to buy a lock for my door if Jesse keeps popping in,” I grumbled. 

Y/N turned in my embrace slightly to smack my chest. “Oh, be nice.” 

“And if I’m not?” I teased with a raised brow. 

Just as her lips parted, another shrill voice echoed through the space of the living room; one I hadn’t expected to hear. 

“Hi, baby!”

Y/N’s feet skidded to a halt and I nearly tripped over her since she was still in front of me. 

“Surprise!” Bailey yelled while shaking her hands, standing on the other side of the open door. 

Michael stood holding the door open, unsure what to do. 

“That’s not until later,” Y/N snapped with fists clenched. 

Bailey’s eyes landed on Y/N and I could easily see the way her jaw ticked. “What are you doing here?” 

“Excuse me?” She scoffed.

Bailey pushed past Y/N towards me, trying to rest her hands on my chest; an action I quickly brushed away.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” I asked dumbfounded. 

Her brows furrowed. “I thought maybe we could talk.” 

Bailey’s breath had a lingering scent of alcohol and I scrunched up my nose in disgust. She was a fucking mess; this whole thing was a fucking mess that I needed to rid myself and everyone else of. 

I peered over her shoulder towards Michael and Y/N, whose eyes burned straight into my own; she was furious. 

Angel- my angel. She was going to be so angry with me. I had to explain; fast. My feet couldn’t get to her fast enough

“Y/N-,” I began while stepping away from Bailey. 

She shook her head, ignoring my pleas as she brushed past me. “Malcolm needs my help.” 

READER

I’m angry-no, I’m furious. 

Should I be angry? Do I have the right to feel this way? It’s not like Noah and I were together. I learned quickly what Bailey’s place was. He was clearly trying to make me jealous, and it worked. 

I ripped apart a piece of tape to hand up to Malcolm who was standing on a chair to hang up the banner. 

“What’s wrong, sweets?” He asked. 

Grumbling in response to his question, I handed him another piece of tape just as Noah walked into the kitchen. 

“Angel,” he reached for my arm. “Let me explain! I ended it!” 

I ripped my elbow from his grasp to walk away from him, ready to help Jolly finish setting up the alcohol. 

“I don’t have time for this bullshit, Noah. I have to finish setting up for Chase’s party. Not talk about unwanted guests or lies.” 

His face fell. “I’m not lying. Please, can we talk?” 

Malcolm stared down at Noah from the chair with confused eyes as Jolly’s gaze bounced back and forth between us. “What’s going on?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about. Chase will be here soon,” I ignored Jolly. 

“Y/N,” Noah begged with a trembling lip as he stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “The house is already ready. We need to talk.” 

“I’m not doing this with you right now!” I spat with venom, eyes burning into his. 

“Y/N,” he tried to reach for my hands but I smacked them away. 

Jolly quickly picked up that something was wrong so after setting down the bottle of booze, he motioned for me to follow him. 

“Let’s get some air, huh?” 

Turning my back to Noah, I let Jolly lead me out of the kitchen onto their back porch, the cooling air of the afternoon immediately causing goosebumps to graze my skin; skin that Noah moments ago was touching with his lips. 

“Everything alright?”  

I began pacing, running a hand through my hair. “He lied to me, Jolly! He told me he broke things off but she’s here!” 

He shook his head. “No, Y/N, I promise you; Noah broke up with Bailey. We can all vouch for that.” 

“Then why is she here?!” I yelled with a hand extended towards the house behind him. 

“She’s here to salvage whatever she can. But that’s not on him or you,” Jolly said with his ever-calming voice. 

I swear, his accent is what always made any difficult situation easier. 

“It's just-,” I sighed while falling onto the step, Jolly immediately following me. “Every time I think Noah and I are getting somewhere, some bullshit comes up to continue to keep us apart.” 

Jolly nodded. “I can understand that, I get it. But it doesn’t have to be complicated. It really doesn’t, Y/N.” 

“Then why does this keep happening?” I blew out a shaky breath while looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. 

I was so fucking tired of the universe trying to keep Noah and me apart. I was so fucking tired of trying to be happy for more than a mere moment before something came to crash around me. 

Was I not worthy of a happy ending? After all the bullshit I’d gone through?

Jolly brushed away a stray tear, a solemn smile on his face. “Maybe the universe is-shit-I don’t know trying to humble you both first? Heal? Hell if I know, I’d kill to have that spark you two have. I don’t know shit about this, Y/N. But I do know Noah; he isn’t perfect. But he’s trying so hard to be. He also isn’t lying to you, he isn’t.”

Reluctantly, I nodded and rested my head against his shoulder. “Is it alright if I just sit here a minute with you?” 

He patted my knee. “Take all the time you need, söt.” 

“Huh?” I looked up at him. 

With a chuckle, Jolly wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “It means sweet, in Swedish. Sorry, sometimes it slips out without-.” 

“No!” I patted his knee now. “I like it.” 

With a relaxed breath, I eased into Jolly’s comforting embrace, thankful that I had so many friends to confide in when things became tough. 

MATT

So ‘distressed distraction mission fail’ was here. I chuckled to myself, my inner monologue taking over. I felt like it was closing in around me. In my mind, I was growing larger and larger, expanding with aggravation. If I say something too fast, to get myself under control, I’d explode and take the situation in my hands. 

This wasn’t my fuckin fight, I knew that. But- once again, this girl proves to me she doesn’t belong here and surely, doesn’t understand the words no.

Stop. 

Leave.

Noah ended this shit so why was she here? Dogs and fucking rabid raccoons understand basic shit better than Bailey.

I often tried to bite my tongue. I often tried to be kind when I didn’t need to be. It was important to be kind, however, not when you fuck with my family. Bailey didn’t get my message the last time. However, I knew tonight was going to be the last time she’d be around. I felt that shit in my gut.

Good fuckin riddance.

Noah was still in the kitchen and from the way Malcolm was laying into him about something, I knew he’d be held up there for a few minutes. 

I walked up to Bailey as she was sitting on Noah’s couch, a glass of wine in her hand. 

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” I taunted while crossing my arms over my chest, staring down at her. 

Bailey rolled her eyes while taking a very long sip of her wine. “Matt, seriously?” 

“Yeah, seriously. Any particular reason you’re here tonight, trying to, I don’t know, ruin another gathering?” 

“I just wanted to talk to Noah,” she slurs while slowly sanding to her feet, swaying slightly. “I think we can figure things out.” 

My face scrunched in disgust. “Why don’t you sit down, no need to make a bigger fool of yourself.”

“‘M not,” the red liquid swirled in her cup as she shook her head. 

“I’m sorry but have you been blind this whole time?” I wondered.

Bailey scoffed, suddenly falling back onto the couch and spilling a few drops of wine onto the couch. “I’m not blind.” 

Fuck, if Noah wasn’t pissed with this girl before, he definitely would be now for staining his couch. 

I bent low on my knees to make direct eye contact with her. “You keep acting like it, Bailey. You should have just taken the voicemail for what it was. Noah ended it with you; it’s done. What was the point of even coming over here? Because this thing with him isn’t going to happen. You're water and Y/N is milk.” 

“What does that mean?” Bailey hiccuped, resting her head against the back of the couch. 

I peered over my shoulder to point toward Noah, who was watching Y/N directly as she walked back inside with Jolly. She didn’t bother to give Noah an ounce of attention as she was led by Jolly into the dining room. The look of hurt and yearning from Noah made my own stomach drop. His usual stoic face was void, it was evident that his emotions were coming to the surface. Noah loved Y/N with his entire essence but this woman sitting in front of me was going to ruin it. 

The hurt I felt for my friend; no, my brother made the tone in my voice turn to ice as I glared back at Bailey.

“Y/N is the fucking moon that lights his entire dark sky. Come on, stop playing stupid,” I stood to my feet and ran a hand through my hair. 

Leaving her to sulk on her own, I motioned for Malcolm to come out front with me so we could talk privately. 

NOAH

Music blasted throughout my house, the party well underway. Chase arrived about thirty minutes ago, not a hint of surprise on his face but still wore a happy smile. Somehow he managed to find out about the party, which immediately brought a sad smile to Y/N’s face; one I wished I could brush away with my thumb. 

“Ah, it’s alright sweets. I really appreciate the effort,” Chase kissed her forehead before laying a kiss on Malcolm’s lips. “Thank you, guys. I love you.” 

I tried talking to Y/N one more time before the party started but with Malcolm’s ice-cold gaze, I knew it wasn’t the right time. It would have to wait until later. 

Something else needed my attention. 

Bailey stumbled into the living room, red solo cup barely hanging between her fingers, as she was in a fit of giggles. I internally was smoldered with resentment as I watched Bailey. Rage flowed through me like lava because she came here and did this. I tried, I fucking tried.  I realized this was the consequence of my previous actions. 

However, have I not atoned? 

I apologized. I-I tried, I called Bailey and told her I couldn’t be what she wanted. I ended it. 

I knew she knew, she told me that night in the car. I had eyes for someone else. 

I couldn’t allow her to destroy what I was working towards. I tried to swallow my frustration. Angel wouldn’t even look at me- I felt like I could die right here.  I was sitting on the couch with my arms resting along the back of it, eyes watching Y/N’s every move as she talked with Davis. 

Until Bailey fell onto the couch next to me. “I-I thought I haad a driinkie for you.” 

My jaw ticked as I ran a hand over it. “Bailey, I’m sorry, but you weren’t invited.”

“Wha-what does,” she hiccuped. “That mean?”

I moved towards the other end of the couch to give us more space. “Bailey, I left you a voicemail!” 

“I haven’t checked it! I have like 20 messages,” she waved me off before drinking from her cup. 

“Bailey-.” 

A mutual friend of Orie’s came by with a tray of shot glasses, one that Bailey reached for. 

“Oh! Shots!”

Quickly, I pushed away the tray from her and dismissed the friend, stating we were fine and didn’t need anything to drink. 

“Noah!” Bailey whined while cupping my face. “Why’d youuu do that? I’m thirsty!” 

I smacked her hand away as gently as I could. “You’re drunk, Bailey. You’ve had enough.” 

She, of course, ignored me and was fast on her feet to stumble into the kitchen. “I’m gonna go get another!”

A look of great bitterness swept across my face when I approached Bailey again and attempted to get her to leave. “Bailey, let me call you an Uber. You need to go.”

“Noah!” 

She tried to push me away but ended up crashing into the kitchen counter, knocking over the vast variety of alcohol. The loud noise caught the attention of everyone around; Y/N watching Bailey with a look of disdain, never once looking into my eyes. I curbed the way my heart fell to my stomach only because I couldn’t focus on the pain. 

I needed to get Bailey out of here.

“I missed you,” she slurred while running a finger down my chest. “I miss the way you fucked me. Can we try again?” 

I threw her arms off of me as she tried to wrap them around my neck. “No, Bailey, whatever this was is finished. You need to go.”

“We need to talk right now, mother fucker,” Chase spat as he gripped my eblow to drag me to a far corner of the living room, away from prying ears. 

“Man, not now,” I ripped my arm from him. “I’m fucking busy trying to diffuse this situation.” 

“Bailey is drunk, Noah! What the fuck!” Chase ran a hand over his buzzed head. “You’re going to do this? Now? We fucking talked about this! What did I tell you? Get it together or leave my sister alone.” 

He roughly pushed my shoulder and I took a deep breath to keep myself calm. From the moment Bailey showed up tonight, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and there was nothing I could do to stop it; breathing be damned. 

“STOP!” I suddenly snapped, earning a few stares from people around us. 

Nick R. went to step forward as he leaned against the wall with Nadia but I was quick to wave him off. I refused to ruin their night. His girlfriend was in town for the first time in a long time so the last thing they needed was to deal with my drama. 

“Fuck!” I spoke. “I did! I fucking broke it off, it’s over! Bailey just fucking showed up! And I’d hate for her to drive and die. I do not need that shit on my conscious.” 

“Noah-,” Malcolm stepped up next to Chase.

“I swear to fucking Hades himself, if you tell me to break it off with Bailey, I will lose my shit,” I snapped, the vein in my neck twitching. 

“I’m not,” Malcolm’s voice was even, steady, almost a low whisper because he knew I was seconds away from sheer catastrophe. “Y/N’s fucking hurt, Noah.” 

“I’m-.” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before Chase snapped. 

“I know you’re fucking sorry, alright! But please for the love of fucking Neptune, get rid of her!” 

“Working on it, man,” I reminded him as I turned on my heels to head back into the kitchen but came to a sudden halt. 

Bailey was dragging a guy towards Y/N, her loud shrill voice echoing over the music. 

“Y/N! This was the friend I was talking to you about!” 

Friend? What the fuck? 

The look on Y/N’s face was one of embarrassment and awkwardness. Not many could read someone from across the room but I could. I knew exactly what Y/N was feeling without an utter from her sweet lips; her body always gave her away. 

JESSE

Oh shit, oh shit. 

If only I had known how tonight was going to go. 

Truth be told, I really wanted everyone out of my fucking house. I wanted to lock Y/N and Noah in the garage, not letting them out until they talked this shit out. Although, depending on what happens next, I might have to.

I leaned against the kitchen sink as I watched with careful eyes as Bailey approached Y/N with some guy in tow. 

“Y/N! This is the friend I was talking about! The one I wanted to introduce you to! Jared, this is Y/N.” 

My gaze snapped over to Noah just in time to see him crush the red solo cup in his hand. 

“Oh, hi. Hello,” Y/N shifted on her feet. 

“Fuck,” Jared licked his lips. “You know you’re really beautiful. You’re a model ain’t you?” 

Y/N cleared her throat. “Musician, actually.”

Something was off with this guy so without them noticing, I took a few steps closer toward Y/N, just in case she needed me to step in. 

“Wow a musician, that’s right! Bailey mentioned something about that. I have heard your band before. Souls Hollow.” Jared snapped as if he found out the answer for a million dollars.

“Hollow Souls”. 

The loud pop of Y/N’s water bottle made me jump slightly as she crushed it between her hands. 

“Right! Well, you have the face and the body for modeling if that’s something you want to get into,” Jared ran a hand through his short hair. 

“No, not my interest or my forte.”

Somehow through her drunken state, Bailey was able to feel the sudden tension and patted the guy's chest. 

“Jared, why don’t you get us a couple of drinks? I need to have some girl talk with, Y/N.” 

Girl talk?

“Girl talk?” Y/N chuckled low.

Once it was the two of them, or so Bailey thought, I leaned forward on the kitchen island to listen better. 

“You know,” Bailey threw her hair over her shoulder. “It might be good for you to blow off some aggression. He could be a good fuck.” 

“Thank you for your interest in my well-being.” Y/N scoffed, ready to end this conversation, and went to walk past her. 

“I’m just saying. I’d love to be fucked by Noah again, but he hasn’t been interested,” Bailey shrugged while leaning against the counter for support. 

Oh. Fuck. 

Y/N turned swiftly on her heels with a look of pure fury behind those eyes, the ones that drew Noah in that first meeting; something he told me many times before. I could see the hurt behind that fury though. It was clear that Bailey’s words dragged the knife deeper into her heart. But just as quickly as the hurt surfaced, Y/N was quick to close herself off by crossing her arms over her chest with wide eyes, internally going into herself. 

The shit I just heard. Bailey did that on purpose, or she was so far gone on liquor she didn’t realize what she said.

 No, it was both. Bailey came here to hurt Noah, that was obvious.

Daring a glance over to Y/N, I felt my stomach drop at what I saw. While it wasn’t easy for me to read her face all the time, that look was something I’d seen on Noah’s face one too many times. 

She was passed beyond the point of disassociation. 

Silence. 

Y/N was silent. The calm before the storm. 

“Shit, Noah.” I quietly said under my breath as I nearly sped to him. 

He was sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees as they bounced wildly. Even with me approaching him with a fury, Noah’s eyes never left the two women behind me. 

“Noah!” I waved my hand in front of his face. “Noah!” 

“Not now man,” he waved me off, still not looking up at me. 

Following his gaze, my shoulders slumped when I noticed that Jared had returned to Y/N and was trying to hand her a drink; one that she kept refusing.

Noah’s fists were balled tightly underneath his chin, his chest unmoving as if his breath was caught in his throat.

“Yes, now! Fuck, Noah. I need to tell you something.” 

Before I could sit down, Bailey barreled her way past me onto the couch to plop down next to Noah, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Oh, don’t they look perfect together? I’d say I’m a great fucking matchmaker. Heaven knows she needs to get laid. She’s been so uptight since I’ve met her.” 

Mother fucker. 

All this time and Bailey still couldn’t read the fucking room. 

NOAH

I shifted my body away from Bailey, her head falling away from my shoulder, as I glared at her. 

“What did you just say?” I was eerily calm even though my heart was in my ears. 

Bailey did her best to fix her hair, trying to make herself presentable. “Y/N looks so good with Jared! I’m so glad I set them up. It seemed like she’d been so lonely since the break up with Trey.” 

Jesse sat next to me. “Noah-.” 

Ignoring him, I kept my hard gaze on the mess of Bailey. “Why do you insist on bringing that asshole up in every conversation?” 

“Why does her love life bother you so much, No-O-ah.” She hiccuped then let out a low belch, the smell rancid.

It disgusted me.

I was beginning to see slight parallels with this. Trey, Bailey, Trey Bailey. Drowning their demons. Once again confirming I will not be like this. I won’t become them. My demons won’t swim.

“Why can’t you mind your own fucking business? You don’t know shit about her or any of us. You think you do because of things you read on a blog?” 

Fuck, Bailey was getting inside my skin and I wanted to scratch it away until it bled. I chewed roughly on the inside of my cheek, doing whatever I could to keep my anger under control. I couldn’t make a scene in front of everyone because of Bailey. 

She took a large gulp of her wine and lazily shrugged. “Trey was a big part of Y/N’s life; I can understand that.”

Jesse reached past me to grab the glass of wine from her since she almost dropped it because of her weak grip. The sound of glass clanking on the table in front of me was a white noise in my ears. 

“Oh, Jo-O-lly,” Bailey whined with a hiccup. “You’re no fun.” 

“Jesse,” he corrected.

She ignored him with a wave of a hand towards Y/N and this friend. “Look at them. Y/N’s so into him.”

My gaze snapped over to Y/N expecting to see her all over this guy but breathed a little easier to see that there was a decent amount of space between them and her arms were crossed over her chest. 

She was closing herself off from the conversation but ever the sweetheart, Y/N couldn’t find the way to end it.

“Hopefully, they’ll fuck. I mentioned to Y/N that we did as girl talk, so maybe she finally will too!” 

My eyes doubled in size as my head whipped back to her, heart now leaping out of my fucking throat. All the noise around me fell away, the only thing I could hear was two words. 

You’re fucked.  

“You fucking told her we had sex?” I spat through clenched teeth. 

“It was girl talk, Noah. You’re freaking out about nothing,” Bailey rolled her eyes. 

Terror washed over me because there was absolutely no fucking way she told Y/N. 

“She did. I was right there,” Jesse informed, almost as if he could read my mind. 

The fine hairs at the back of my neck rose as the anger now ran through me in waves. 

Bailey told her. She fucking told her. 

Fuck!

My hands raked through my hair, ripping it from the low bun, and I vibrated with rage. 

I should have told Y/N right after it happened. I shouldn’t have let it drag on this long. It would have hurt coming from me, yes, but now that Bailey was the one to tell her, I knew it was eating away inside of Y/N. 

Idiot. 

Idiot. 

Asshole. 

Fucking bitch. 

My heart continued to pound rapidly in my ears. I wanted to scream; the sudden shock made my muscles tense. Innate fear was instinctive and hard-wired into my brain.

This kept fucking happening. Every time I thought Y/N and I were getting somewhere, something fucking came crashing into it. How did we go from almost kissing upstairs in my bedroom to now? She ignored me as another man was practically drooling at the sight of her. 

Mine. She’s mine. She’s always been mine. 

This feeling that burned low in my gut involved a fight-or-flight response triggered by a perceived threat; Bailey. 

I hated myself more than I had in a long time. 

A sudden thought crossed my mind which made me blow out a shaky breath. Was I the threat?

No. I broke it off. 

Fuck this.

“Oh,” Bailey’s voice was sad. “I hope Jared won't mind Y/N’s scar, though. I never had the chance to warn him.”

“Excuse me?” I fumed, nostrils flaring. 

How she continued to misread the room appalled me. 

“Well, I noticed her scar during the pool day. It’s a nasty one. I can't believe she deals with that endo bullshit,” Bailey sympathized. 

“Endometriosis,” I corrected but then shook my head with the sudden realization. “How do you know about that?” 

“Why does it matter, Noah?” She shifted uncomfortably. 

The only people who knew about Y/N’s scar beside herself were Malcolm, Chase, and me. It was a very sore subject for her, something she didn’t want brought up. It was from a procedure she had years ago, one to remove a thin layer of tissue that lined her uterus to help with her heavy bleeding. 

I never noticed the scar however during our night together. My mind was elsewhere. I never paid attention to that, it could have been a stretch mark for all I knew. I was a little too occupied tasting her to care. So enamored in her, so thankful just to have every inch of her at all that night that I didn’t see it as an imperfection on her. 

And I never would. 

“It fucking does matter, Bailey!” I roared. 

Jesse’s hand rested on my shoulder, his soft touch easing the rage slightly. However, out of the corner of my eye, something else caught the attention of my rage. 

Bile rose in my throat as I watched Jared’s slimy fingers graze down Y/N’s bare arm towards the silver chain on her wrist; the bracelet I bought her. He twirled it between his fingers before flicking it away with a look of distaste. Y/N yanked her arm away from him, holding her wrist close to her chest. 

My nostrils flared as my shoulders went rigid, my body going taught. Something cold and wet dripped onto my lips and the copper taste was bitter on my tongue. I could feel my increasing heart rate, the blood rushing in and out through my ears. I swallowed thickly with my dry mouth, producing no saliva. 

My clenched fists were aching, I was sure to leave half-crescent marks on my palms. My jaw was tight as if it was wired shut and my gums must have been bleeding. I could taste it in my mouth as one simple thought continued to repeat in my mind. 

Destroy. He’s touching what’s yours. 

I could do it, it’d be so easy. 

This piece of shit dared to look at something I gave Y/N with distaste and it made me bare my teeth. 

“Fuck, Noah. Are you alright?” Jesse’s concern brought me back from seeing red. “Your nose is bleeding.”

I wiped my palm over my nose. “Is it?” 

Crimson smeared all over my hand. 

Fuck. 

With every step back Y/N took, this guy followed in an attempt to close the distance between them. A muscle in her jaw ticked as her brows furrowed, eyes darting around the room to look for someone. 

Chase and Malcolm were in the front yard with others playing one of the yard games Steven brought. Everyone else was scattered throughout the house which meant I was closest to her. 

Perhaps this fear of loss is only proof of my love for Y/N, one that she will always depend on. The curse is the blessing. Blessed with a curse. Love is tough, but I’m tough enough. I needed to get to Y/N and get to her now.

Bolting to my feet, I moved like lighting and did not listen to Jesse’s protests as I reached Y/N in a few wide strides. 

Even though she was angry at me, Y/N’s eyes lit up with relief as she saw me only for a moment. 

“Everything alright?” I asked while standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her. 

Jared motioned towards Y/N. “I’m trying to get your beautiful friend from Sollows to go out with me.”

I ground my teeth while taking a step towards him.  “It’s Hollow Souls. Hollow. Souls. You don’t even fucking know her band's name. Get the hell out of here.”

“Noah!” Y/N jeered from behind me. 

“All I’m asking for is one date, dude. She’s hard to break down to agree,” Jared shook his head. 

I stood toe to toe with this asshole, my words stone cold and stern so he understood completely. “She isn't available!”

“Really?” He scoffed while stuffing his hands in his pockets. “That’s not what your girlfriend told me. Why do you care so much about who Y/N talks to?” 

“Bailey isn’t my girlfriend; not anymore. I broke up with her days ago, it’s not my fucking problem that she can't understand it,” I reiterated for what seemed like the tenth time today. 

“Why is she here then?” Y/N muttered behind me. 

Ignoring her, I continued to stand tall in between her and Jared. 

“So again, Y/N isn’t available,” I repeated. 

“Really?” Jared chuckled. 

“Yeah, dude. Really.” 

One step closer to him. 

He outstretched his arms. “I don’t see anyone around to claim her.”

I despised the way he was talking about Y/N; someone that was mine. 

“She isn’t a fucking object,” I hissed. 

I studied him with unforgiving judgment, an icy stare bored into him, making it hard not to back away.  I gripped the glass I had in my hand. My first thought was to throw it to the floor and smash it, but I knew if I did that, I wouldn’t stop until every glass in the cupboard was in shards and Jared’s face was pushed into it. 

Violence never solved anything. I had to remind myself that this is not what I am. Not what Y/N would want. I had to keep my composure at best. I had to.

I also would never want to incite fear in Y/N. Never. I knew she wasn’t into him, but I couldn’t help but notice sleazy Jared letting his eyes roam her entire body, as much as she tried to hide herself away. His eyes went to her exposed legs, the colorful and detailed drawings on her right one. 

 I didn’t like that. 

Y/N’s smooth skin. Her perky, round, and full chest was probably what caught Jared’s attention in the first place. At this moment, he became just another enemy. But nobody, not even him, was going to try and take Y/N away from me. Not when she was mine. I wanted her all for myself.

I inhaled and exhaled so harshly; like a fucking  bull ready to charge

“I’m not saying she is an object. All I’m saying is-.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re fucking saying,” I barked “And I’m telling you Y/N isn’t available. She’s with me.” 

Jared snickered. “If that’s the case then why did she spend the last ten minutes talking to me.” 

“I’m right fucking here!” Y/N screamed while pushing past me to now step between us. “Stop acting like I’m not!” 

Jared went to reach for her which prompted me to wrap an arm around her shoulder, ready to lead her away. 

“We need to talk; let’s go upstairs,” I begged with wide eyes. 

She hastily removed my arm from her. “No, fuck you! I have nothing to say to you. This conversation is over.” 

“The hell it is,” I snapped while running my hands through my hair. “This isn’t over until we talk into the light. Please, angel. Let's go upstairs.” 

Y/N pushed my chest. “Oh, you want to talk now? You’re bored with Bailey so yet again, I’m your second option?”

Jared shifted on his feet. “Am I missing something here?”

I glared at him over my shoulder. “Yeah, none of this concerns you. Fuck off.”

“Noah!” Y/N chastised. “STOP IT!” 

My head snapped back to her. “No, don’t Noah me. We need to talk! Without this asshole.” 

“Fuck you, man!” 

Jared went to reach for me but I was a hair faster than him, pushing him back into the kitchen island. By now, our little argument caught the attention of almost everyone in the house, and the music ceased, an eerie silence falling around us. 

“Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on me or Y/N.” I seethed, my chest rising and falling with each deep breath.  

So many different gazes burned into me but I didn’t give a shit about the scene. The only thing I cared about was Y/N. 

“Angel, please can we-,” I turned back around just in time to see her bolt up the stairs, away from everyone. 

“Shit,” I muttered while bounding up the stairs two at a time to catch her. 

As I reached the landing upstairs, I caught her frame slipping into the bathroom but before I could reach her, the door slammed in my face. 

“Y/N,” my voice was soft as my knuckles tapped against the door. 

“Leave me alone!” She choked on a sob, it echoing through the wood

My forehead rested against the wall next to the bathroom, the rage and anger that consumed me minutes prior suddenly faded into the void, my heart only feeling one emotion; despair. I needed to feel Y/N in my embrace. I needed to console her and assure her that everything would be okay. 

We will be okay. 

“Noah, what the fuck was that man?” Davis demanded. 

Turning my body around, I leaned against the wall with pure exhaustion and ran my hands over my face; images of Jared’s hands all over Y/N were clear in the darkness. 

“He was touching her,” I chewed out. “His hands were-fuck!”

I pushed myself off the wall and began pacing up and down the hall, right in front of my bedroom. 

Davis watched with his hands on his hips. “You need to pull it together. What the fuck was that downstairs?! Why hasn’t Bailey left yet? I thought you ordered her an Uber?”

“I’ve been trying!” I snapped while coming to a halt. 

But when I saw the look on his face, I sighed while pinching my nose. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you but I’m just so tired of being accused tonight of shit that’s out of my control. 

“It’s alright, man,” Davis reassured me. 

“Fuck, where’s Chase? Or Malcolm? Maybe they can talk Y/N out of the bathroom.” I suggested. 

“Chase is pissed. Malcolm had to hold him back to keep him from coming up here to kick your ass.” 

With my hands on the ledge, I peered over it to see that Davis was telling the truth. Malcolm had Chase pinned against the front door, arms on each side of him in a way to lock him in a makeshift cage. It helped that Malcolm was a bit bigger than Chase so he couldn’t push past him, which I was thankful for because his usual bright eyes were dark with hatred. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about up here but I knew with the way Chase pointed up at me and the vein in his forehead throbbing that it wasn’t good. Malcolm rested a hand on Chase’s cheek, the latter immediately relaxing in the former’s touch.

“I never meant for this to happen,” I blew out a shaky breath, doing my best to keep my tears at bay. 

It wasn’t fucking fair. I did everything right so why was it coming back to bite me in the ass?

“I know,” Davis stepped up beside me to lay a hand on my shoulder. “I fucking know this is killing you right now. But you have to move past this. Y/N doesn’t deserve this side of you. And frankly, neither do you.” 

“I know I said I can wait for years if I have to, Davis. But fuck, I want us right now! I can’t see anything else but Y/N.  I want her with me! I want all of her forever. It’s her and me I-.” 

A sob crawled its way out of my throat.  "I want all of her. Forever.” 

“It’s okay, Noah,” he rubbed my back in smoothing circles. “It may not seem like it right now but I promise you, it will be okay.” 

The soft click of the bathroom sounded loud in the hallway upstairs but when I turned towards it with a hopeful smile, it faltered when Y/N whipped past us, her hair flowing behind her in waves. 

“Angel.” 

I reached for her, only for Y/N to rip farther away from me, and retreat downstairs. 

READER

Tears fell from my eyes as I hid behind my hair, heels reaching the bottom of the stairs. While my heart beat rapidly in my chest, my mind screamed one thing in my mind over and over again. 

You need to leave. Get out. Get out. 

I looked around with frantic eyes for Chase and Malcolm, knowing that I wasn’t in the best state of mind to drive. By now, the vast group of people that came for the party had dispersed only leaving our small group of friends. Instead, my gaze locked with Nick R’s and I nearly sobbed at the sight of him. I needed some sort of comfort from someone and it didn’t matter who it was; as long as it wasn’t Noah. 

Before I could make my way over towards Nick R., a vice grip wrapped around my elbow to spin me around. 

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?!” Bailey’s nails dug into my skin. 

I hissed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

“Noah could have moved on with me! I could have made him so happy!” Her words slurred together, the heavy stench of alcohol on her breath. “But no, every time I was with him, there you were! You couldn’t fucking leave him alone!” 

The tears tasted bitter on my tongue. “Excuse me?”

Bailey chuckled dryly, barely able to keep herself up on two feet.  “You’re his fucking ghost. You’re here all the time. It’s a good thing I showed up tonight. I followed my gut. But I don’t know what hurts worse; you and Noah sneaking around behind my back or-.” 

“We-.” 

She stuck up a finger to hush me. “Behind my back or you both lying about your feelings for each other to my face. You’ve been in love this whole fucking time and I was only a pawn in this story.”

I slowly shook my head, suddenly feeling guilty. It was true, even though we didn’t want to admit it, but she was a pawn. An innocent person caught in the crossfire of a tangled mess of soulmates. 

“Bailey.”

“No!” She screamed with her own tears. “What also hurts is that I can’t blame you! I can’t! But I truly don’t know how you’re going to be able to give him anything he needs.” 

Pure venom filled her eyes; a snake ready to snap at its prey. “I-I don’t-I know everything and I can’t help but feel sorry for you. I know how hard it will be for you to have a child. How do you think Noah feels about that? You’re taking away his chance of having a family, any chance of normalcy!” 

I nearly stumbled back, being smacked in the face with her words, and I blinked rapidly at her. “Wh-How do you know?” 

Bailey ignored me by throwing up her hands. “So take him! Noah is all yours. You two fucking deserve each other.”

My eyes now sliced into her. “How the fuck do you know about that, Bailey?”

“He’ll never love me like he loves you, and it’s selfish of you to keep throwing him away.” She yet again avoided my question. “He wouldn’t touch me, never. Especially when you were around. Only that one time but all he thought about was you.”

“I’m not! You don’t know a fucking thing! Noah doesn’t love me! He doesn’t.” I bellowed as loud footsteps came running down the steps. 

Noah’s frantic face pleaded for me to stay, to listen, but I refused; I was done with this entire day and wanted to leave. 

“I’m leaving,” I said, turning on my heels. 

“Angel, please wait!” Noah reached for me, yet again.

“Hang on,” Bailey stepped in front of him, blocking his path to me. “Y/N is Angel?” 

I didn’t bother hearing the excuse Noah came up with. My only path was the front door where Nick R. stood, waiting for me with it wide open.

Somewhere an hour outside of Cheston, South Carolina in a nursing home, a resident named Duke was so enamored with the elderly woman that sat beside him. He read to her every day about a story of love, loss, and the power to fight for love.

“Did they love each other?” The woman asks, brushing away the graying strands of her hair.

Duke closed the book and smiled. “They didn’t agree on much. In fact, they didn’t agree on anything. They fought all the time and challenged each other every day. But despite their differences, they had one important thing in common. They were crazy about each other.”

The older lady rested deeper into her chair, a faint smile on her lips.“I like these kinds of stories,” 

“Yeah? Me too.” Duke smiled at her and set the book on the table in front of them. “Somewhere out there, I’m sure this exists. It did for me.”

THIRD PERSON POV

“Leave me alone!” Y/N screamed over her shoulder to Noah who was following on her heels. 

He let her walk away so many previous times and he was done letting the cycle continue. 

“You’re not leaving!” Noah ordered, his voice echoing into the night air. 

Chase and Malcolm, who were sitting on the front porch, watched the entire scene unfold in front of them. Chase wanted to intervene, still reeling from what happened before the party ended but Malcolm held him in place with a hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“They need to figure this out on their own, Chase. We can’t keep helping them.” 

Davis and Matt also wanted to intervene as they watched through the large window in the living room. They wanted to help, but even they shook their heads. 

“This is it. The dam broke and it’s about fucking time,” Matt said while leaning against the wall next to the window. 

“Let them hash it out. This is going to be cathartic for both of them.” Davis said while peaking through the curtains. 

Steven almost popped out of nowhere with a sigh. “Here we go.” 

Suddenly, the dark sky above cracked with a bright light, rain immediately falling from the clouds and soaking Noah and Y/N as they continued their stare off in his driveway. 

“Have you been paying attention to anything happening?!” Y/N accused, wet strands of hair clinging to her face. 

“No, I guess not!” Noah retorted back. “I must have misread every fucking signal!” 

“Guess you did!” Y/N scoffed while turning back on her heels, the loud clicking being muted by the sounds of the onslaught of rain and thunder. 

When she opened the door to her car, Noah was quick to slam it shut. “You’re bored! You know it and we wouldn’t keep doing this if something wasn’t missing! But you don’t fucking get it!” 

“Get what?” Y/N questioned while trying to open the door again. 

Noah slammed it shut again, not allowing her to leave.  “WHY?! Why am I not worthy?” 

As he screamed those words a few more times, his despair was heard by everyone inside the house who watched with broken eyes, the yellow hue of the street lamp casting him in his own angelic aura. 

Y/N’s lips mimicked a fish out of the water, despite being drowned under the rain

“This whole fucking thing of hot and cold with you!  You’re being a pain in the ass!” Noah rested his arm on the top of her car, bright eyes burning into hers. 

Her eyes bulged out of her head and she gave a hard shove to his chest. “Excuse me? You arrogant son of a bitch, you tell me all this shit! I sit there and tolerate this distraction of yours, who sits there and tells me little theories and fucking intrusive bull shit. She pries into parts of my life; parts she shouldn’t know!” 

Noah’s face softened, immediately knowing what Y/N was referring to. “I didn’t tell her, Y/N. I swear to Hades, I didn’t tell Bailey about your endometriosis.”

“Then how does she know? It’s not public knowledge!”

He tried to reach for her but Y/N pushed him away with yet another hard shove. “Don’t fucking touch me!” 

Chase went to bolt outside into the onslaught of the storm to protect his sister but Malcolm was quick to bring him back inside. Unfortunately, this wasn’t their fight anymore. It was up to Noah and Y/N. 

“Angel, please,” Noah begged with a trembling lip. “Come back inside so we can talk about this.” 

Y/N ripped her hands through her hair. “There’s nothing to talk about, Noah! Don’t you get it?! We keep running in circles with no positive outcome. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t.” 

They both were drenched, limbs shivering from the cold wind and rain, but neither of them made the first move to falter; to end this fight. 

“Stop acting like I don’t care about you; about us!” Noah snapped. 

“I never said you didn’t! If anything I felt the same way you fucking idiot! I-I’m-.” 

The words died from her lips, unable to finish her sentence due to the fear of Noah not feeling the same. 

“You what?” He urged while taking a step towards her. 

Y/N wildly shook her head as her make up ran down her face, staining her cheeks and neck in mascara. 

“I-I can’t.” Y/N pressed her palm into her forehead. 

“Yes, you can,” Noah licked his lips in anticipation. “Fuck, Y/N! YOU WHAT?!”

“I’m in love with you! Okay?! I fucking love you.” Y/N turned on her heels to walk down the driveway but stopped, quickly turning to Noah. 

Everyone inside the house gasped, all looking at each other. 

“Did she?” Folio wondered. 

Malcolm had a hint of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, she did.” 

“You always just pretend that everything is fine when it’s not!” She pointed a firm finger at him.  “Then you stand there and have the right to say I’m the pain in the ass? Fuck you, Noah! I’m so tired of you pretending that you don’t have feelings for me.” 

Noah’s eyes widened with furrowed brows and his jaw slacked. “You-You-’re-wait!”

He shook his head in disbelief but then confusion etched over the features of his face. “I’m pretending? I’ve been trying to tell you for months! But I don’t know how to do any of this, okay? These feelings are new for me and I don’t know how to deal with them!”

“This isn’t going to work,” Y/N sobbed while holding her arms close to her chest, whether it was due to the cold or to protect herself from the feelings, no one but her was sure. 

Noah gapped at her. “We haven’t even started anything! And I’m fucking sorry about everything and Bailey! I’m so fucking sorry! I should have never even walked into the record shop that day. My head was a mess after seeing your instagram post and I lost it.” 

“Wait,” Y/N shook her head. “What Instagram post?” 

Noah ran a hand on the back of his neck. “The one you posted in Japan. I-I thought you found someone there that could get you actual ramen.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but internally snicker at that but the anger and hurt she felt outweighed that glimmer of humor. 

“So you dated someone because you misunderstood a fucking Instagram post?!” She pushed Noah once again. 

However this time, he grasped her hands so she couldn’t pull away. He held them against the beating pulse underneath his soaked shirt. 

They were exactly alike. In every aspect. Mannerisms, interests, and their souls were the same. Which is why they always seemed to find their way back to one another, no matter the outcome. 

“Just fucking stay with me, Y/N! Stay till the morning and we can figure this shit out. Please,” Noah begged with trembling lips. 

“Stay with you?” Y/N pushed away then pointed between them. “Look at us, Noah! All we’ve been doing is bickering and fighting!” 

“Well that’s what we do. We fight. You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you’re being a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99 percent of the time. I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you’re back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing!”

By now, the rain was a terrental down pur, branches of the trees swaying widely in the wind as the sky cracked loudly with lightning and thunder; it shook both Y/N and Noah to their bones. 

“So what?” Y/N scoffed. “Why does it matter to you?”

“Because I fucking love you, angel!” Noah blurted out. 

He planned on telling her how he really felt from the moment the feelings clawed their way to the surface but something always managed to get in the way of it. But here, now, outside his house with all of their friends watching, he admitted it to her. 

And he’d spend the rest of his days shouting from the rooftops his love for his angel. 

“This shit is hard for me. I’m being vulnerable, but fuck, man” Noah pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling and exhaling his breaths; like Dr. Poulos had told him to do so. 

Y/N gazed up at him with a fixed gaze unable to move. “What?” 

The onlookers had their ears peeled to their spots, doors and open cracks of the windows.

“Oh thank the gods.” Michael breathed out

“Fuck!” A low clap from Jesse.

Noah stood no less than a few inches apart from Y/N and his arms fell to his sides. 

“I love you! I’ve loved you since I heard your fucking voice for the first time through my Ipod that night on Nick’s couch. The first day of the tour when I got off that bus.” 

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered. “You love me too?” 

“Yes, angel. I want all of you, you and me! Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? Five, ten years from now. What does it look like? If it’s not with me then, go. Go!” 

Noah smacked the hood of Y/N’s car. “I lost you once. Shit, twice. I think I can do it again. If I thought that’s what you really wanted. But don’t you take the easy way out.”

Chase, yet again bolted up from his spot from in front of the window, ready to run outside to protect his sister but now it was Nick R. who stopped him. 

“Move,” Chase spat through gritted teeth. 

Nick R. shook his head with a stern face. “We can’t intervene anymore. This has to be between them and them alone.” 

“He’s getting violent! Noah just punched her car!” Chase yelled, not bothering the sleeping drunk on the couch behind him. 

Nick R. stood his ground. “We all know that Noah would never put his hands on Y/N.” 

Reluctantly, Chase nodded with a long sigh. “I know, I know. He might be your brother but she’s my sister. I’m just tired of seeing the same scene unfold between them.” 

Malcolm gently reached for Chase’s hand and brought him back to the far corner they were seated in. 

A loud crack of thunder made Y/N jump closer towards Noah, who instinctively reached for her but held back, not wanting to push her farther than she could handle. 

“What easy way, Noah? This isn’t easy!” Y/N sighed. “None of this is easy!” 

“No it is, actually.” Noah nodded. “Don’t think about anyone or anything else. What do you want from me? What do you want, angel?”

She rapidly shook her head, choking on a sob. “It’s not that simple.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” Noah enunciated every word with a pound fist to his chest. 

When Y/N remained silent, Noah grasped her face to bring her into his warm embrace, even with the rain. “God damn it! What do you want?”

Her eyes darted between Noah’s and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He watched as she swallowed thickly, anxiously awaiting her answer. 

“I think-,” Y/N stumbled over her words. “I need to clear my head right now.”

Noah’s shoulders drop, disappointment clear on his face. “Are we doing that? Are we back there? What about everything we feel? What about everything that happened hours ago and beyond that. It happened, you know. They’re going to keep fucking happening. We belong together, Y/N.”

The grip on her cheeks tightened, his thumb brushing away the tears or rain, he couldn’t tell, from her cheeks only smearing her make up even more. 

“No! I don’t want to go back there. Noah,” she shook her head the best she could in his tight grasp. “I-I need to grasp all of this! But there’s one thing I know for sure; it’s always been you, Noah.” 

The crushing weight around his heart lifted at hearing her words. Noah’s thumb brushed along her cheek bone. 

“I can stay away if you want me to, but I don’t want to. I know you don’t want me to,” he whispered. 

Y/N whimpered while holding onto his wrists with a tight grip. “I love you, Noah. It was never really over for me.”

“It wasn't over and it still isn’t over,” Noah declared while crashing his lips to hers, locking her into place against her car with his hips. 

Moving fast, sensual, soft and moist and hot and breathy, not trying to win a battle but seeking union and closeness and the sharing of one breath. One sensation. One timeless and passionate moment. Their hearts were electric as the familiar scars faded with their lips upon each other.

The heat rose in Y/N cheeks as her tongue touched Noah’s, quick and electric and delicious, then firmer, more determined. More curious about the heat that lay within, seeking to chase down that elusive liquid lightning that reached through both of them. 

His hands were so soft despite the callous’ on his fingertips. Holding her face so delicately but with pressure.

The others in the house felt as if they should look away, however, given the rollercoaster they were on, they earned a peek at what their inner hearts also yearn for.

Noah’s hips pressed deeper into Y/N and he swallowed her moan, drinking in every part of her that he craved all this time. Her hands tangled through the strands of his hair, secretly reveling at the length. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Noah could pull off any haircut but deep down, she was thankful that the moment she met him, his hair cascaded to his back in glorious dark waves. 

She pulled on the lapels of his leather jacket to bring him closer, her teeth grazing over his bottom lip. 

“Angel,” he moaned into her mouth. 

“Mochi,” she breathed when his cock pressed against her heated core. 

The storm suddenly ceased as soon as their lips met, thunder and lightning no longer. 

There was a commotion coming from inside the house, one that went unnoticed by the two forms molding together; their souls connecting in a way that they so desperately needed.  

“Noah!”

He pulled away from Y/N, hands still on her face and lips parted, drops of the rain falling into his mouth. One more quick kiss upon those bruised lips, he looked up towards Jesse. 

“You have to deal with Bailey.” He said with a stern face. “Now.”

Cursing under his breath, Noah looked back to Y/N. “Don’t leave, alright? Give me a few minutes to deal with her. But I promise, we’re going to finish this.” 

Y/N sniffled while wiping away the rain and make up from her face, giving him a slow nod. 

With one final peck, savoring the sweet taste on her lips, Noah bounded up  the yard with Jesse in tow. However, Nick R. met him half way. 

“I know,” Noah held up his hand. “I’m dealing with it now.” 

“Good,” Nick R. nodded. “Because Bailey locked herself in the bathroom and won’t leave until you talk to her.

However, unbeknownst to Jesse and Noah who slipped back inside, Bailey managed to exit through the back door unseen. She had her gaze on one person, making a beeline towards her. 

“Like I said, you can’t stay away from him!” Bailey screamed. 

Y/N was touching her lips softly, as she remembered the kiss, but looked towards Bailey as she stormed into her. Nick R. was ready to head back inside with the rest of them but as soon as he saw Bailey push Y/N into her car, he quickly changed his path. He couldn’t leave the two of them alone, not when Bailey was drunk and actions were unknown. 

NICK R

I hung back off to the side but not too far as I watched Bailey and Y/N finally have words with each other. 

“You ruined everything!” Y/N brushed Bailey off of her, standing her ground. “This party was for Chase but you couldn’t handle your fucking booze as usual and had to run your mouth!”

“All you had to do was stay away! Why couldn’t you let Noah be happy?” Bailey accused. 

Oh, please. The only time the last time I’d seen Noah happy was when he was with Y/N. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Y/N scoffed with a dry chuckle. “You were the one that was brought into something you couldn’t understand.” 

Something flashed in Bailey’s eyes which made me stand taller in attention. I’ve read the signs. I’ve heard them before. That’s what Bailey didn’t understand. This wasn’t a fling, or a feeling of empty love lost. This was something created by a force no one was sure existed. This wasn’t anyone’s intention. They can’t be apart for too long, the anguish will swallow them whole.

When passion generates within the relationship flows into other areas of life. Bailey disrespected my friend. My best friend’s other half. That just wouldn’t do. 

She could yell, scream, and curse the ground Y/N walked on. It wouldn’t change anything. It will never change the course this is. 

It’s always Noah and Y/N.

“You want to talk about things you don’t understand? You’re delusional if you think your band can hack it without Trey. He was probably in his right mind to leave and do his own thing.” 

Fuck. 

I gazed over towards Y/N and my stomach fell at the broken expression on her face. 

Bailey continued her onslaught, not caring how deep her words were cutting. Noah told me months ago how fucked up Trey was and how long it took Y/N to over come how far he dug himself into her mind. 

“You guys want to be innovative! And be the next big thing but guess what, you’re just going to fall on your face. I got news for you, next time I see your record? Clearance it goes.” 

Y/N took a step forward which in turn made me reach and arm out to keep the space. Her eyes flashed to mine but with a curt nod from me, I allowed her to continue what she was going to say. 

“You don’t know shit about my life or my music,” she hissed with venom. “What, because you read some blogs online and work in a music shop you think you know what’s best?”

Bailey tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t need to know the little details. I know just enough to know you’re never going to make it and you’re gonna ruin Noah’s life.”

“News flash Bailey,  I’ve already fucking made it. With or without Trey, Hollow Souls is where it’s at because of me.” 

Y/N stabbed a finger into her own chest and I couldn’t help the proud smile that played on my lips. 

“And it will continue to thrive because of me. And Malcolm. And chase. Not some girl's opinion who thinks she knows everything because she’s been in our inner circle for all of two months.” 

Bailey opened her mouth to retort but Y/N pushed past my arm so she could get right into her face. 

“I would rather chew concrete than ruin Noah’s life. I love him, I’ve loved him for a long fucking time and fuck you for thinking I’m going to allow you or anyone to intervene. Never again.” 

With a hand on Y/N’s lower back, I motioned towards the house. “Bailey, I think you’re done here. 

All the fight that Bailey had left in her seemed to falter and reluctantly, she turned to retreat back into the house. To do what, it didn’t matter to me. I needed to make sure Y/N was alright. 

“Hey,” I finally forced her to look at me. “Are you alright?” 

“Uh,” she let out a shaky breath while wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. “No. I’m not. It’s been a shit night.” 

“Do you want me to see if Nadine has some clothes for you? Get you out of those wet clothes?” I offered. 

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I think I’m going to leave.” 

My stomach dropped for Noah, knowing that he wished for her to stay. But I wouldn’t force Y/N to stay. But what I could do was give her some sense of reassurance. 

“You want to know something cheesy? Something- a little too cliche?” I asked.

“What’s that?” Y/N sniffled with a slight chuckle 

I leaned against the car next to her, both of us staring up at the sudden clear sky; stars sparkling upon us. 

“The reason why it hurts so much is because your souls are connected.”

“Nicholas-.” Y/N started. 

I turned towards her now.  “No. No, I’ve been studying up on things like this, purely out of fun; Well, interest? Maybe genuine boredom but that detail doesn't matter. I’ve watched you both for a while now and it’s clear the two of you were always meant to find one another. I thought this kind of shit only existed in books. Turns out, I’ve watched it happen to my best friend. Noah found you. You’re his other half.” 

She sobbed quietly. “And he’s mine.”

“Yeah,” I nodded with a smile. “He fucking smiles with you, you know. He laughs with you. You mean everything to him. I’ve known this kid since he was 12-.” 

“Did Noah put you up to this?” Y/N questioned.

I shook my head. “No he didn’t tell me to talk to you but as his brother I needed to.”

“I just need-I need a space from this right now, just to get my head together.” Y/N said after a few beats of silence. 

I had some reservations about that, ones that I  made clear as I opened her car door for her, letting her drop in with a huff of a breath. 

“It didn’t work out so well the last time you two had space. So please don’t wait too long, Y/N. One friend to another,  I’m begging you, please, don’t break him. You both love each other. Noah can’t stay away from you and you can’t either.” 

“I know, Nick, I know. I love him, I- just-,” she rested against her head rest.

I lent in her car to start it, quickly turning on the heat, before leaning over the open door once again. 

“Work on your record. Get all this angst out. But don’t make him wait forever,” I said.

“It won’t be, I promise,” Y/N smiled up at me. It was weak and faint but it was there. “Can you tell him I had to go but we’ll talk soon.” 

I buckled her seatbelt, making sure she was safe. “I will. I’ll let Malcolm and Chase know you left too.” 

“Thank you, Nicholas.” 

“Oh Y/N?” I hesitated before shutting the door. 

Broken but hopeful eyes stared up at me. “Hm?” 

“The album release- we’re only a few songs away from mixing and mastering. It’s almost done. Keep an eye out of those deets,” I pointed a playful finger at her.

She smiled again, this time large and bright. “Noted.”

I stood with my hands in my pockets as I watched her pull out of the driveway, giving one final wave as she turned down the block. With a deep breath, I focused my attention on another friend that needed my help. I know that he was dealing with a huge issue inside and he needed to know the truth. 

As I stepped back inside the house, it didn’t surprise me to see that everyone in our inner circle had filled the kitchen as they watched the scene of Noah and Bailey unfold in front of them. 

Chase went to rise to his feet from the kitchen island but I assured him with a tigh smile. 

“She’s okay. She went home,” I mouthed.

That eased Malcolm and Chase only slightly as they went back to watching this mess unfold.

Bailey looked my way but my eyes were locked on Noah and I could see he was one more blow away from breaking. 

It’s intervention time. 

I knew where Noah was headed and it wasn’t good. Bailey let into him, and had no qualms on what she said to Y/N.

If looks could kill.

No scratch that. If Noah could change into a werewolf I think he would. The rage he held in his shoulders was proof enough. 

NOAH

I felt that rage burning low in my gut again as Bailey stood in front of me. I wanted to kick her out, have her find her own way home, but the good part of me knew that it wasn’t right. She was drunk and it was late, something could happen to her and I couldn’t have that on my conscience. Thankfully while I was outside with Y/N, Matt called Bailey an Uber that was minutes away. 

A few more words and this whole mess would be done and over with. 

“Bailey, you need to tell Noah what you said to Y/N,” Nick said as he came up next to me. 

My eyes snapped up from the old, worn, floors and up to her face. “What is he talking about?” 

She shifted on her feet with hesitation before she explained every mean and hurtful thing she told Y/N tonight; no ounce of regret on her face. 

“How could you say that to her?” I snapped while running a wild hand through my hair. “Why?! You think you know everything but you don’t know a fucking thing. My god, you were one of my biggest mistakes. You need to get the fuck out of my house and life. I’m serious.” 

Except, she ignored me and rested her hands on her hips. “Y/N is Angel?” 

My brow furrowed. “Why the fuck does that matter?” 

“Uh,” Bailey hesitated, fidgeting with her nails. “I thought that’s what you called me because when I saw the contact in your phone-.” 

“What the fuck,” I doubled back, head swirling in disbelief. “You went through my phone?”

A low whistle sounded from the kitchen but I didn’t have to look to see that it came from Matt. 

Betrayal dug its knife deeper into my chest. 

“I-I-just wanted to see what you were hiding-,” Bailey stammered. “I looked through your phone. I had this feeling you were hiding something from me. I thought it was my name but the texts didn’t match up.” 

Suddenly, the little light bulb in my head clicked on. 

“That’s how you know about Y/N’s endometriosis. You saw the group chat with me, Malcolm, and Chase?” 

Bailey remained silent, only nodded to give me an answer. 

“What the fuck, Bailey?! You know how private I am but yet you still went through something of mine!” I began to pace the room, running a hand over my face. 

“I heard the voicemail, Noah! I just thought if we talked it out- I don’t know. We could work it out,” Bailey blew out a shaky breath. 

I came to a halt in front of her. “There’s nothing to work out, Bailey. We're done; finished. You never should have been in the picture to begin with. 

“Noted,” she nodded. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it? It’s always about her! I knew it. I should have followed my gut!” 

A look flashed across her face. “You’ve thought about her..with me didn’t you?” 

Everyone’s eyes landed on me like a burning itch to the back of my neck. 

“Bailey,” I sighed, suddenly done with this conversation.  

“She’s the one, isn’t she?” Bailey questioned, all the anger gone from her eyes and voice. 

There was no use in denying the truth any longer. Y/N and I confessed our love for each other, it was time everyone else knew about it. Although, I’m sure they already did. 

When I finally nodded to Bailey, it hit like a ton of bricks. She said those things, she uttered them. She spit at the face my soul was intertwined with. 

I dare put my angel through this. That’s over now; never again will I put in the crossfires of someone else’s demons. This was my last battle. I could sense Bailey understood, but she wasn’t grasping with the idea that I wasn’t hers. She needed to let go.

There was something in the way I shouted at her earlier, a pain behind it. “How could you speak to her that way?” 

My heart hurt, my hand clutching my chest in anguish. It’s as if I could feel her pain physically. 

Must be a soulmate thing. 

Nicholas watched me, he watched my eyes then he knew. 

The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing out grenades, scared for his life, lonely, desperate. I breathed in real slowly. 

What if nothing blew up? What if Bailey just truly didn’t grasp this?

With a deep breath, I rested my hands on my hips. “Bailey. I’m sorry. I wish I could give you what you’re looking for but I can’t.”

Once again my emotions turn jagged and my insides tight.  I waited, wide eyed and heart in my mouth, hoping for kindness, when I explained this again.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. It was never my intention. I sincerely apologize,” I continued. “I fucked up and admit that. It was never supposed to get this far.  I just-I’ll never get over these feelings for her. She’s all I think about. I love her and although I'm not proud you were caught in the crossfire. I’m not sorry for who I love. It’s always her, that’s my angel.”

Finally, a hint of a smile cracked on her stone face. “I already know what this was. There’s a part of you that you kept closed off from everyone, including me. It’s as if I wasn't the one you were really with. Your mind was always on her.”

My face twitched as she cupped my cheek “Don’t let her slip away, Noah. It will be the biggest regret and I don’t want to see it destroy you.”

I gently removed her hand and nodded. “Thank you. Again, I’m sorry.” 

“I apologize for the scene I caused tonight. That wasn't mature of me. I was hurt but this wasn’t fair to any of you,” Bailey began to sober up. “I also owe a big one to Y/N.” 

“Well make sure to let her know.” 

“Uber is here,” Matt shook his phone while walking to the front door, opening it for it. 

With a tight smile, Bailey grabbed her things and quickly ran out the door. Matt, with a two finger salute, kicked the door shut and locked it for good measure. 

“Good fucking riddance,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Wait, Y/N’s still outside,” I shed off my jacket, tossing it on the railing of the staircase. “Let her in.” 

“Noah,” Nick spoke up. “She left.” 

My eyes snapped over to him, heart rate intensifying as my breathing became harsh and ragged. 

“She told me she’d stay,” I swallowed thickly. 

My ears rang with white noise as the room began to close in around me. 

“Don’t panic Noah, I spoke to her,” Nick reassured me with a hopeful smile. 

“But-,” I shook my head. 

“It’s okay. Y/N just needs to work through this. It’s a new phase Noah. You both have to get passed through some shit. You love each other. You are going to be together. Just have some hope.”

Knowing there was nothing I could do at this moment, I nodded and thought about that one word. 

Hope. 

Hope is in the way I feel like I can smile, in the way we are quiet when she can reach out with her eyes. 

Gathering strength to make a better choice, to breathe and let love have a moment to guide me, to guide us.

I knew Y/N needed a little space after this. I knew that, perhaps I needed space as well. To feel love and be loved back. 

We love each other. We love each other. 

I still had a few things I needed to work out, and I think she might too. 

Hope is in that soft shrug of hers, the playfulness of her smile. Every time we reach for the sun.

Maybe when we’re not so different, we will make amends and no longer having to pretend.

Nick’s voice was faltering as I sped up the stairs towards my bedroom where my phone was, still perfectly perched on my desk; almost as if Bailey set it back in the exact spot it was before she looked through it. 

Me: Why’d you leave?

Message Undeliverable. 

“What the fuck?” I muttered while sending another text. 

Me:  I understand you have some things to work on and so do I. But please don’t stray too far, Y/N. I’ll wait for years if I have to. 

Message Undeliverable. 

Fuck. 

There was a chance her phone was off but that didn’t deter me from stopping. 

Me: I love you. 

I breathed out a chuckle when I saw the text bubble turn blue, meaning the text went through. 

Angel 🪽: I love you too, mochi.

The corner of my lips curled up in a smile as that word echoed in my mind again. 

Hope. 

As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror shirtless and a pair of warm gray joggers, sometime after setting my phone back down, I had the scissors on one end of the counter and a buzzer on the other. A soft knock sounded on the opened door and I gave a weak smile to Folio. 

“Are you doing alright?” He questioned while leaning against the doorframe. 

“It hurts, knowing that once again there’s this space between us but the outcome is different this time around. For once, there’s hope.” 

“It’ll be okay man,” he assured me.

“I know.” 

Folio pushed himself off the door frame to hope up on the bathroom counter. “There’s no fucking universe where yall don’t end up together.”

“Thank you for your optimism,” I smiled lightly. 

"It’s true! Somehow in every universe you end up together. Whether you two are married with a son named Kenji or she joins us on the road together after the two of you spend one night together."

My heart fluttered at the sound of those alternate lives. “Kenji? Let me guess-we kick Matt’s ass in Mai tai?”

“Yes, bro!” Folio smacked my chest. “ Y/N is always meant to be there, Noah.” 

I leaned against the opposite wall. “It’s wild how thought out you have this idea of me and Y/N.” 

“Ah, I don’t know,” he shrugged with that goofy smile. “I can see it. There’s other universes out there, you know? I watched this special about it on Discovery+ or some shit.”

“That so?” I raised a brow with a chuckle. 

“Yeah, who knows. But I believe y’all will be.”

We fell in silence for a long beat before it was me who smacked his chest. "Michelle has you watching these specials, huh?”

Folio scoffed while rolling his eyes. “She barely pays attention after she asks to put it on.” 

I couldn't help but laugh, imagining Y/N snoozing on my lap after we watched another episode of I Think You Should Leave. 

“I can’t wait to have that,” I admitted. 

“In time. I promise you. I'm your friend, and I know. Take the time you both need. Heal. I’m a firm believer in patience when you’re trying to catch a good one. Trust me, I’m a fisherman,” Folio grinned while adjusting his fishing cap. 

“Fucking fishboy,” I rolled my eyes with a smile. 

 A hopeful one.

“So what’s with that?” He pointed to the scissors. 

I shrugged while holding the scissors now. “I’ve had all this weight at the back of my neck for years now. I need something new, a breath of fresh air. I’m suffocating. I need to see the back of my fucking neck, man.”  

“I’m not going to be here in case you regret that decision,” Folio patted my shoulder before jumping off the counter, leaving me alone yet again. 

With a long breath, I gathered my hair in a low ponytail, keeping it in one hand while I brought the scissors to it, the sound of chopping echoing in the small bathroom.

“Hang up my shame on display for you,” I sang low as I held up the cut ponytail in front of my face.

I shivered when a cold breeze brushed against the nape of my neck, reveling in the feeling. 

When there was no light, when there was nothing beyond the boundaries of my skin, hope was a ladder woven of heaven’s vibrations that spoke right to my healing soul. 

Hopes was a ladder that both Y/N and I could make it to the top. Because I believe it's destined in our hearts.

All I knew is that Y/N loves me back.

She fucking loves me.

[mediumgayitalian]

At around half past one, Nico gets a Feeling.

He gets feelings a lot. Nothing he can quantify, just something telling him that something is up, somethings wrong. Or something’s about to be. At this point, he’s learned to trust his intuition, based purely on the number of times it has saved his life; a number he’s long since given up counting. (He’s only ignored his gut feelings three times in his life: when Bianca went on her quest, when his father promised not to hurt Percy before the Titan War, and when he went looking for the Doors. He has learned his lesson.)

So when something at the bottom of his stomach tells him to get up, to check things out — he does.

He knows it could be nothing. (The last time he had a Feeling, it turned out that he had placed a book precariously on the edge of his desk, and it had been about to fall. Not exactly world-saving stuff.) But regardless, he steps out of bed, shoves his feet into his shoes, and creeps out of his cabin.

Camp is kind of beautiful at night.

There’s an eerie calmness to it without so many human disasters running about, and the quiet reflects that. All Nico can really hear is the hooting of owls in the distance, the chittering of nocturnal animals and monsters alike, the distant screeches of curfew harpies, and the pleasant crashing of the waves. The air is clean, when he inhales, and he takes the time to hold it in his lungs for a bit, imagining the sweet breath is healing his burned lungs, turning the scar tissue back to something flexible and normal. Whether or not it actually works, he doesn’t know, but it feels nice.

Under the light of the brightly shining new moon and billions of stars, he starts his patrol. Around his own cabin first — there’s nothing, as he expected, the warning doesn’t seem overwhelming like threats tend to be — and then he makes his way around the circuit, checking behind gardens and shrines and inside braziers. He hums quietly as he walks, something preppy and bright the Apollo kids have been hollering for days, and waves to Lady Hestia, sword heavy at his waist.

“Come sit,” she calls, patting the seat next to her.

Nico does.

“Haven’t seen you out at night in a while.”

He hums, toneless this time, leaning back on his hands and mirroring her gaze at the sky.

“Been sleeping, for once.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiles, knowing that she means it. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she picks up his sword, sliding it from his belt loop, and uses it to stoke the flames. She doesn’t seem afraid of it, or wary. To her it’s just a stick of metal. It’s nice.

“You have you been, my Lady?”

She pokes at the embers a few more times, scooping a few to balance at the tip of the blade for a while. It glows with the heat, and he knows he’ll have to sharpen it tomorrow, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe he can do it while Will is in the archery range. It’ll give him an excuse to be at the armoury at the same time, anyway.

“I’ve been well.” She breathes deeply, small smile pulling at her face. “It’s calmer, and more people wave to me. I like it.”

“Good.”

She dismisses him a few minutes later, sending him off with a promise to chat again soon. She doesn’t need to worry about him promising — he makes a point to sit with her at least once a week — but it’s nice to know someone wants his company, so he appreciates it. He leaves with a wave, walking towards the eastern half of the cabins.

Nothing’s amiss. He can hear campers snoring, and see the odd reading light. Malcolm catches his eye as he walks past the Athena cabin and winks, sending a cheeky salute when he sees the sword held loosely in his hands. So far, everything seems fine. He’s beginning to think the Feeling might have simply been about Lady Hestia, so he decides to do one last check around the Big House and then head back.

Of course, that’s where the issue is.

The infirmary lights are always on. They’re dimmer in the night, more of a glow than anything, but there’s an extra brightness streaming out from the windows, and when Nico peeks inside, he sees Will, standing with his back turned at the nurse’s station.

He takes a moment to check his strength, making sure he has the energy for it — dinner last night was pho and he had three bowls, he most definitely does — and sinks into the shadows by the door. He materializes back in the little alcove by the bandage & wraps cabinet, lurking silently while he blinks the dizziness away.

The first thing he registers is soft singing.

He’s facing Will, now, and can see the glow coming from his hands, enveloping a bowl of some kind. He has both hands coated in some dusky pink substance, massaging and gently pounding it against the sides of the bowl, working it through with great care. As his voice gets higher, the glow gets brighter, fading as he dips lower. He sings something about hills and meadows and the breeze, about wing-song, about the sound of flower stems bending in the wind. For a while Nico stands, listening to the melodious ancient Greek, swaying with every pitch and hold. It’s captivating.

Will is almost haunting when he heals.

There’s a divinity in him — in all of them — but he glows when he sings. Not just his hands, and sometimes his head if he puts enough power in his words, but there’s an almost shimmer to the air around him, a shining warp. His skin gets clearer, and his hair goes more metallic, almost, like spun gold rather than blonde. His freckles make his skin into an inverse replica of the night sky, dark specks surrounded by bright empty between them. His long fingers pluck through bright strands of light like a harpist strums their chords; lightly, carefully, skillfully; like a braider weaves their hair. There’s an undeniable age to his magic, a practice that’s visibly replicated millions of times over thousands of years, as if every healer who has come before him links their arms with his, breathes their strength in his lungs. Sometimes, when he does something truly unbelievable, amazingly beyond reason, he flickers — his orange camp shirt fades into a white chiton, or long robes, or a white coat, or a blue tunic. Watching him heal is like watching the sunrise — breathtaking and unique, every time, but powerful in its cyclic archaism.

It takes Nico a long time to realise Will is swaying.

Snapped out of his trance, he begins to notice Will’s long, slow blinks, the unsteady way he stands, the weight he has leaned on the counter. Even his face looks plainly exhausted under the glow, face pillow-creased and eyes bruised, hair mussed, limbs leaden. Footsteps as silent as he can manage, Nico creeps over to the schedule posted by the door, scanning through the scrawled pen ink.

He curses quietly. Will is not supposed to be awake.

There are really only three people who can work the infirmary to its fully capacity, barring Chiron. Kayla, Austin, and Will are the only ones who can magically heal, as much as the volunteers are imperative, so when the camp is in full swing one of them must be stationed at all times. That’s how Will sets it up. A bit of a waste of time, he acknowledges, but Nico knows he has memorized every time a camper who should have been saved. He carries far too much guilt to ever let it happen again, as inconvenient as his rules may be.

Night shift, though, is a need-be basis. If the infirmary is as empty as it is right now, then there truly is no need to keep one of the three of them awake outside their circadian rhythm, staring at nothing. Instead, they take shifts in the on-call room — asleep, but prepared should anything go wrong, should a monster chase a new camper at an odd hour. It’s Will’s turn for on-call. It’s two in the morning. He should be asleep.

And, yet.

Nico recognizes the look in his eyes. There’s a — frailty, to them, a deep-seated, animalistic fear, one he recognises from the hours after his own night terrors. A single-minded panic that cannot be unseated in any logical way, cannot be comforted with any gentle hands.

Nico handles his fear with slashing swords and bruised knuckles. Will, he knows, handles his fear with obsessive, endless preparation.

Knowing full well nothing is going to drag him away from his focus bar actual cardiac arrest, Nico walks right by him. Will doesn’t move. He settles behind him in the old, creaky leather office chair, curling his legs under him and resting his head on the soft arm. He watches Will, watches the almost machine-like movement to his kneading arms, and falls back asleep to his humming.

———

“…Nico?”

He wakes up warm and a little cramped, in the same position he fell asleep. Sun is streaming on from the many issues, blocked from burning his eyes by Will’s hunched frame, facing towards him now, hands and shoulders shaking with equal violence.

“What time is it?”

His voice is croaky and wrecked from hours of singing. Nico is willing to bet his throat is burned as badly as his hands, cooked from non-stop, sun-borne glowing. The divinity that had emanated from him before has abandoned him and he looks young, lost.

“Early,” Nico says softly. He unfolds himself from the chair, stretching slightly — gods, he is going to ache today — and wraps a slow, careful hand around Will’s wrists. “Probably around six, if I have to guess.”

“I don’t remember waking up.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m tired.”

“That’s okay.”

His breathing is heavy, laboured.

“I don’t —”

Nico squeezes gently. “It’s okay, Will.”

Will swallows and says nothing.

“Come on.”

Carefully, letting Will’s stiff joints set the pace, Nico guides him out of the infirmary. The sun shines brighter as soon as he steps outside, but he doesn’t seem to notice bar a tiny, almost imperceptible flinch at the change in lighting. Nico switches from holding his wrists to laying a hand on the small of his back, half-worried he’s going to fall over.

Luckily, he makes it to the Apollo Cabin upright, although the stairs take them a while. The hinges of the old screen door creak as Nico pushes it open, and he sees both Kayla and Austin, up and dressed, jump.

“…Will?” Kayla asks softly, eyebrows creased in concern. She walks over to him when he doesn’t answer, frozen still, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Will leans — almost hesitantly — into the touch. The same blankness from before clouds his eyes, although this time there’s less of the fear.

“Hey.” Nico walks over to stand in front of him, waiting patiently for him to meet his eyes. In the minutes it takes, he hears Austin pad over, standing opposite to Kayla, hands clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide what to do with them. “You think you can sleep?”

Will doesn’t answer verbally, but drifts after a moment to his bed. Nico follows, helping him out of his shoes and shirt. After a beat of hesitation, Austin hurries over, turning down Will’s sheets and helping him crawl in. Soft guitar music begins to play, and when Nico looks over Kayla is fiddling with the CD player, turning the dials carefully. Without much fanfare, Will’s eyes flutter closed, and his breathing slows to something deep and even. His twitching fingers still.

“I don’t think today’s an activity day,” Nico murmurs. “I checked up on him a while after midnight; he’d been at it for hours. He didn’t stop ‘til sunrise.”

Kayla rubs harshly at her eyes. “Fuck.”

“He’ll be okay,” Austin whispers. He runs a gentle knuckle over Will’s forehead, then turns his careful, imploring gaze to Nico. “You kept an eye on him?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Nico inclines his head. “Had a feeling.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kayla admits. “He was —” She trails off, staring at something in the left half of the cabin — the empty half. “He was like this after the Titan War, too. I think he spoke maybe two words for the entirety of September.”

Nico almost can’t imagine it. The very thought of it makes something twinge in his chest, clench in his stomach.

“We’ll figure it out.” He nods, to convince himself as much as Kayla and Austin, who look to him with way more trust than he deserves. “We won’t let it — it won’t get that bad. We’ll help, and if we can’t figure it out we’ll get help. It won’t be as hard as last time.”

It won’t be as hard as last time because there won’t be twelve shrouds, Nico doesn’t say, but he doesn’t need to. Both Kayla and Austin nod, looking at their sleeping brother with firm resolution.

“This time, we’ll be there.”

[scotianostra]

On 10th November, the year 1150 work began on the construction of Dryburgh Abbey in the Scottish Borders.

Standing on an elevated site formed by a loop of the River Tweed about five miles from Melrose, Dryburgh Abbey’s seclusion is part of its undoubted charms that have captivated many souls down the ages. There is little of the original Abbey church left, but the remains of the sacristy and cloisters have survived and the building is well looked after now as it is in the care of Historic Environment Scotland.

At the time of its foundation Scotland was ruled over by the man who many people consider to be Scotland’s greatest king, David I, son of Malcolm Canmore and St Margaret of Scotland. He both ordered and funded the construction of several abbeys and monasteries as part of his Davidian Revolution which transformed the face of Scotland, but Dryburgh was not one of them.

There had been some sort of clerical institution at Dryburgh as far back as the early seventh century as ancient writings show that St Modan, a follower of St Columba, was described as being the abbot of Dryburgh in 622. As with all Scottish history from the Dark Ages and early mediaeval period, almost all records as existed about buildings and personalities have long been lost, and there is no physical evidence of the older establishment whatsoever.

Though approved by King David, Dryburgh Abbey was the foundation of Hugh de Morville or Moreville, a Norman knight who came over from Cotentin to northern England after King Henry I gave that part of northern France to David. He was almost certainly one of the French knights who helped David retain most of southern Scotland on behalf of his brother King Alexander I, known as the Fierce.

David was both the Earl of Huntingdon and the Prince of the Cumbrians which took in the area formerly occupied by the Kings of Strathclyde. David gave de Morville lands in Huntingdon and Westmoreland, so it would make sense that Hugh de Morville came into Scotland and took possession of lands given to him by David. He was also made Constable of Scotland after his predecessor was killed in battle in 1138.

Being allowed to build his own abbey shows how much he was appreciated by David. De Morville took a personal interest in the construction and shrewdly did not make it either as large or as powerful as those abbeys founded by David such as Holyrood and Melrose. With its location by the Tweed and the obviously intricate stonework that still survives,

Dryburgh Abbey was outstandingly beautiful. It was built quite quickly after de Morville was able to attract Premonstratien canons regular – not monks confirmed to a monastery but an order of preachers and pastors.The White Canons, as they were known from their robes, arrived from Alnwick Abbey at Dryburgh in 1152, and were soon joined by a prominent local lord, none other than Hugh de Morville who became a canon and died in the Abbey in 1162. His son, also Hugh, inherited his father’s lands in northern England and became infamous as one of the four knights who assassinated St Thomas a Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1170.

Dryburgh Abbey seems to have thrived until the Wars of Independence when it was burned down by the English army on their humiliating retreat from their 1322 invasion of Scotland under Edward II, loser of Bannockburn. They burned Holyrood and Melrose, too, and an enraged Robert the Bruce was appalled at the actions of supposed Christians, so much so that he gathered an army and charged deep into England in what was known as the Great Raid of 1322, routing the English army at the Battle of Old Byland to further humiliate Edward II who barely escaped with his life.

In 1385, another English army burned Dryburgh again, destroying the western frontage of the Abbey church. This was rebuilt, however, but by the time of King James IV, there was no longer sufficient canons in the Abbey which was handed over to a commendator – an administrator of church buildings appointed by the monarch.

Dryburgh was sacked twice more by the English in 1544, and when the Reformation took place in 1560 there were just 10 canons left, and they were all gone within a few decades. The Abbey was allowed to become a ruin, and passed into the control of various people until it was acquired in 1786 by David Erskine, 11th Earl of Buchan, founder of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland. He re-created the ruin, added monuments and generally made the Abbey beautiful again .

Buchan died in 1829 and was buried in the Abbey. At one time the ruin was owned by the Haliburton family and they retained the right of burial within its walls. That is why the graves and memorial stones of Sir Walter Scott and Field-Marshal Earl Haig, both descendants of the Haliburtons, are there along with various members of their family.

Historic Environment Scotland says this about Dryburgh Abbey: “While a greater part of the abbey church is now gone, what does remain – principally the two transepts and west front – is of great architectural interest. The cloister buildings, particularly the east range, are among the best preserved in Scotland. The chapter house is important as containing rare evidence for medieval painted decoration. The whole site, tree-clad and nestling in a loop of the River Tweed, is spectacularly beautiful and tranquil.”

Dryburgh Abbey has become a place of pilgrimage for lovers of Scott in particular, but deserves to be better known because of its history and sheer beauty.

[aloneandforsakenbyfateandbyman]

Some of my fave religious-themed movies in which God provides the protagonist with divine spiritual revelations through his wisdom!

Last Temptation is controversial because it’s perceived as blasphemous, but I appreciate how it humanized and presented a different side of Christ. I really wanted to hate the Passion of the Christ because of its gory infamy, but it actually had me shook and helped me comprehend the real, raw pain of Christ’s crucifixion. And The Passion of Joan of Arc is absolutely gut wrenching as her life and trial also unfolded in a Christ-like manner as well.

The Ten Commandments, The Robe, and Ben Hur all speak to my love of biblical epics, as they beautifully illustrate parts of the New and Old Testament. Lion of the Desert and Malcolm X both show the power of Islam in strengthening the individual and giving him limitless power through belief in Allah.

As for the Holy Mountain and Siddhartha… they’re actually more like new age/shamanic/mysticism, as I think both Hesse and Jodorowsky have ambivalent and atheistic views towards organized religion. Yet they’re on the list because at least they tried to invoke something higher lol!

In compiling this list, I found that actual religious movies of substance are so rare?? And I don’t mean bad Protestant Lifetimes movies lmao. Like there are tons of movies criticizing religion, which is of course part of freedom of speech, but why so much venality in the film industry towards religion?

Whereas in the art and music world, religion plays a massive role. So it’s interesting to ask that question and to try and uncover cinema that actually affirms and strengthens one’s faith instead of just brewing doubt, ridicule and antipathy towards any sense of spirituality and worship.

[expertfool]

that scene in s2ep1 when malcolm pats ollie’s cheek and says, “good lad,” changed ollie’s life for sure. even in his disapproval about using hugh and disappointment in himself for going along with it, that little pat on the cheek and “good lad” was the last axe against ollie’s moral backbone before it crumbled down and the first damning moment he realized he really would roll over and take it. it had always been a hypothetical before, but now here it is right in front of him. all the evidence ollie needs to know who he really is, and the shame and disappointment and sheer gratitude for that little pat and “good lad” wash over him. all that just to get a half-decent look from malcolm, and there’s a dark, warm, wet part of ollie curled up somewhere between his lower intestines that emanates disappointment through his whole being like cancer that he should even feel gratitude for malcolm’s flippant appreciation that’ll disappear the moment malcolm turns away like he never cared to begin with. ollie’d probably let him get away with a quick pat on the cheek and “good lad” after a blowjob, turning away before ollie could even fumble in his pants; the shock of malcolm’s touch and “good lad” dead in his ears is all ollie needs to hang his head and let malcolm walk away and be grateful for the blithe praise.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 23 (The Heat of Summer)

A sweltering heatwave hit Brindleton Bay in Heather’s third trimester, and to escape the haze inland she spent her days off indoors or on the coast. Uninvited, Everett visited again with his dog, JJ. (And then this Watcher had had enough!) Heather guiltily enjoyed his company at the seashore knowing Spencer and Greyson were back in Oasis Springs without him.

"I didn't know you picked up the guitar," said Heather, as he strummed a few bars in the sunshine.

Everett grinned. "It helps get Greyson to sleep, and the parishioners like it."

"Won't Greyson and Spencer be missing you? Why did you come back here?"

He matched her guilt through his pale green eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were okay out here by yourself."

"Did you come back because Malcolm and I aren't together anymore?"

He waffled. "Maybe. But it might be worse than that. I think I resent Spencer because she can't have more kids. I know it's not her fault, and I feel horrible, but I can't stop thinking about wanting more."

"I've felt a lot of ways about you in my life, Everett, but the one thing I never wanted to be was a replacement for Spencer. I don't need that. We don't need that. For the foreseeable future, at least, the only man I want to make significant time for is my son."

With a nod, Everett put down his guitar. "We're friends. Just friends."

The words brought Heather unexpected comfort, like a cool blanket in the sweltering heat. So this is what it felt like not to wish for a future with Everett Pancakes. "I'm glad we can finally say it."

For the rest of Everett's stay, Heather explored new corners of her adopted hometown with her oldest friend in the world. His visit felt a bit like a fever dream, disconnected from the reality of who they really were.

But maybe that was just the heat.

"What am I going to say to Spencer when I get back?" he wondered as they watched the sunset over the beach at Cavalier Cove. They leaned with their backs against the tortoise sand sculpture they'd built, and Everett dragged his fingers through the sand.

"I don't know what you should say," Heather said. "You know the Watcher's Holy Book better than me, but I think They would hope you cherished the gifts you've been given."

"Is that your plan for single motherhood?"

She shrugged. "I guess so, yeah."

"You're more ready than me and Spencer before we had Greyson."

"Even though my son's crib is in the living room?"

When Everett returned to Oasis Springs, he found Spencer trying to soothe their fussy son to sleep in his crib. "Hey, I'm home," he announced, but she turned to look at him with an icy stare. He anxiously moved to sit on the bed.

"I feel for Heather's predicament, but you need to tell me right now if your visits are anything more than platonic."

Everett recalled his earlier conversation with Heather. "Whatever feelings we once had aren't there now," he said honestly. "But Heather and I did talk about...about us."

"You and me? You could tell her something about your relationship with me that I don't even know?" Spencer felt her heartrate quicken.

Everett frowned. "I think you do know...I want more kids. I know you think Greyson is more than enough. I love you so much, but I'm scared, Spence. I'm afraid Greyson will never be enough for me, and I know you can't fix it."

Spencer broke down. "I know what I said about Greyson, and I stand by it. He's amazing - why wouldn't he be enough?"

"It's not that!"

She cut him off. "I don't think we should make any decisions about anything right now, but I've done some research on surrogacy and adoption, and I'm open to the possibility of talking about our options."

They both needed time to really think about the idea, but Everett appreciated that his wife was hoping to meet him in somewhere in the middle. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[shrinkthisviolet]

It's Love Letters Night! Send love and positivity to your favorite writers and bloggers!

This got really long so I’m sticking it under a cut 😅:

@negative-speedforce you are absolutely amazing. I love your posts and fics, I love Siv, and I love how much you love Nora (your fic about both versions of Nora sharing a name and the ✨insecurity✨ that would cause lives in my head RENT-FREE) and!! You’re an Iris and Reva defender just like me!! 🥰

@vexic929 you’re so amazing and fun to talk to! You have such wacky off-the-wall ideas and you make them work so well and I love you for it 💞 Malcolm, Berrie, and Beth in particular are so dear to me, and so are their fics!

@goldheartedchaoticdisaster you’re so fun to talk to, especially the OUAT stuff lately 🥰 I also always appreciate seeing your comments on my fics, they’re always long and wonderful and you’re just a delight. I can’t wait to see how you write Rowan, I love Nicky and Stephanie, I love your characterization of Mike Barnes and his family (canon to me!! Everyone read “bad boy (no more)”, it’s so good), and your CK Mini-Rewrites? *chefs kiss* you should’ve written the show

@angst-is-love-angst-is-life you pulled me into my current whump fixation headfirst 😂 I love reading through the whump prompts on your sideblog (@whump-is-love-whump-is-life, for anyone who wants to check it out), and I love talking to you 🥰 you also make me cry with how much you hurt Barry in Trophy and 12 hours, but I respect the whumpy endeavors

@fezwearingjellybananas you’re such a delight 🥰 you pulled me into Snowest with “Milk and Sugar”, your fics are so fun to read (and often a niche/novel premise), and I love seeing your sweet comments on my fics! I also so love the cycle of inspiration we’re in 😂 (for context, they got inspired by my Morgan AU to write Speedster Siblings, which (along with Gone in a Flash) then inspired me to write my Daddy Issues AU)

@starstruckpurpledragon (aka @kitkatt0430), you are wonderful and amazing and you’ve written so many amazing fics and meta for this fandom!! You have great takes, super interesting ideas…and you’re so wonderful to talk to. You also (along with @alittleflashvibe) pulled me into Saverb with “You Must Live (For Me)” 😂 much appreciated for that

@alittleflashvibe you are a delight and incredible and your Barrisco takes are such a highlight of this webbed site 💞 you always get me to see something new in their scenes, it’s terrific. You also pulled me into shipping Barrisco in general 😂 (you and @starstruckpurpledragon, as I mentioned above)

@frosty-the-killer-doll hiii I know we don’t talk a lot but I just wanted you to know you’re incredible and I love your takes on Caitlin and Frost—you’ve gotten me to see them both in new ways (that web weaving post about how Frost’s instinct to protect was corrupted by vengeance?? That was inspired, and it’s only one of your many great takes about her and Caitlin!). I also love love LOVE the Jesse fic you wrote, it’s like you read my mind fr 💞 love having you as my mutual

@icedteaandoldlace you’re so wonderful too! I’ve loved following along with your comments as you read my Morgan AU…and you’ve given me such a wonderful appreciation for Kamilla and Kamisco. Your Kamilla & Caitlin friendship fic is so sweet and I love it to pieces

@blackaquokat where to even begin 😅 we’ve been mutuals for like…what, years now? I don’t even remember how it started, but I DO remember your WKM fics and how incredible they are 🥰 your OC for the DA is absolutely how I view them, and your fics are so canon to me, you deserve all the love for crafting such a meticulous world from the pieces Mark gave us.

@seek--rest your fics are OUT OF THIS WORLD and so are your takes!! You’re one of my favorite Spidey fic authors (and that’s a very short list 😂), you’ve gotten me to see him and MJ in such incredible new ways (Irondad but make it MJ!! Ingenious!!), and you have great takes overall (your post-Blip meta my beloved!!), here and in the discord. You also wrote the May & Sally fic of my DREAMS!! Some people might call you an “absolute displeasure to know”, but I couldn’t disagree more, you’re wonderful 💞

@abcd-em on the note of “Irondad but make it MJ”, Vagary lives in my head rent-free 💞 you’ve written PeterMJ in so many wonderful ways, but that in particular really sticks with me. And you’re such a sweet person in general

@hollow-dweller speaking of great takes…hollow you’re practically oozing with them, here and on the discord. I always come away learning something, and you just have so many amazing thoughts?? Also I keep thinking about the Peter & Jessica fic you wrote like…oh my god?? Inspired?? I must applaud you 👏👏

@robbyykeene your CK takes are so incredible, you’re the first account I go to for them, I love reading your posts. You’re so right 💞

@leohttbriar i adore your fics! Your Samtory ones live in my head rent-free, and so does “for what do we live (but to make sport for our neighbours)” like!! You Get It!! You Get Penelope and Charlotte!!

@jenpsaki I can hardly talk about Samtory and not mention you, when you’re the one who pulled me into this ship with “different but same” 🥰 and thank you so very much for that

@arrthurpendragon you are a key pillar of the OC community and so wonderful 🥹 thank you for hosting that exchange event back in July of last year, it pulled me into the OC community and I’m so grateful for it

@lady-of-the-spirit you’re delightful to talk to, you have great takes for pretty much everything (ESPECIALLY Star Wars), I love Hestia, and I’ve never seen HOTD but I love how passionate you are about Alicent 💞

@basimibnishaqs speaking of having great takes about Star Wars…🥰 Rey & Luke being father and daughter especially, I LOVE your posts on the subject. And this fic you wrote about them!! An AU ofc but so very sweet to me 💞

@practically-an-x-man you and I are fairly new to being mutuals but I love having you as one 💞 still chugging through the Ophelia fic, but I love it so far! And ofc as I mentioned before, you write AMAZING whump (as shown in this incredible fic!)

@azaablue your ATLA fics are out of this world, but “beautiful boy” and “Push and Pull” in particular always sticks with me 💞 all the kudos in the world, you Get It, and you’re so wonderful. A gem in the ATLA fandom

@calliopieces your Maiko fics are a GEM in The ATLA fandom, especially “crowning glory” 💞 you just Get Mai and her family situation, and especially Fire Nation girlhood, and I love this fic so much for it

[nitrateglow]

Favorite films discovered in 2023

2023 kind of sucked, but it was a fruitful year for me as a movie geek. I finally got around to seeing films that have been on my TBW pile for years now. I also gave myself a challenge that I actually completed: watch at least one film from every year between 1900 and 2023.

Anyway, I'll stop beating around the bush. Here are my top 20 favorite film discoveries in 2023. (The order is very, very loose from 5 on down. I genuinely had a hard time narrowing the list down to 20, let alone ranking everything.)

When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (dir. Mikio Naruse, 1960)

This well-regarded drama follows Keiko, a bar hostess who's just turned 30 years old. She has limited options as an unmarried woman in postwar Japan. Considered "old," she has to marry soon or scrape enough money to buy her own bar. With its jazzy score and first-person narration, When a Woman Ascends the Stairs has a noirish vibe but it certainly isn't noir at all. Though the film is tragic, what moved me so much was Keiko's character. She has a tough lot and her story is ultimately tragic, yet she is determined to keep going, even if life won't give her a break.

The Boy and the Heron (dir. Hayao Miyazaki, 2023)

Miyazaki's current "last film" is certainly his most abstract and puzzling. I imagine it'll be one of his more divisive titles in the years to come, but count me among its fans. While being "in the know" regarding the current state of Studio Ghibli and Miyazaki's 60+ year-long career in animation allows one to better appreciate the many allusions and themes within the film, it stands just fine on its own as a surrealistic adventure about grief and the power of art. Also, damn, I LOVE hand-drawn animation so much.

Black Cat (dir. Kaneto Shindo, 1968)

Kaneto Shindo's Black Cat is yet another confirmation of my feeling that horror pairs best with humor or heartbreak. While there are some morbidly funny moments, Black Cat is largely a devastating supernatural horror story about a young samurai who encounters two mysterious women in the woods, not realizing they are the ghosts of his murdered wife and mother. Even worse, they've sworn to kill any and all samurai they encounter, since their deaths were the result of raping, pillaging samurai-- but they remain human enough to desire an exception. I was creeped out thoroughly by the chilly atmosphere and imagery of this film. I liked it even better than Shindo's Onibaba and that was one of my favorites from 2022!

Malcolm X (dir. Spike Lee, 1992)

I usually dislike big movie biopics for being stuffy and formulaic. Malcolm X avoids both of these issues. Directed to the hilt by Spike Lee, this film is passionate and compelling, about as far from a stuffy Oscarbait biopic as you could imagine. Also, Denzel Washington is AMAZING in the titular role. Like, we're talking one of the best performances I have ever seen because not only is Washington convincing as Malcolm X, he also perfectly portrays his arc from zoot-suited young criminal to uncompromising activist leader. I was absolutely mesmerized the entire time-- it's a long movie that never feels its length and I'll definitely be revisiting it in the future.

The Kiss Before the Mirror (dir. James Whale, 1933)

James Whale’s horror movies are listed among the finest 1930s cinema had to offer, but his other works remain woefully overlooked. The Kiss Before the Mirror is a strange marital drama set in a dreamlike interwar Vienna. A lawyer defending a murderer who shot down his cheating wife comes to discover his own wife in the midst of a casual affair. Will this discovery lead to another killing? Despite the lurid plot elements, Kiss is closer to Kubrick’s introspective Eyes Wide Shut than a typical 1930s melodrama. Both husband and wife are complex characters struggling with destroyed illusions, making the story a hell of a lot more complex than you'd expect.

Five Miles to Midnight (dir. Anatole Litvak, 1962)

I am so glad I ignored the meh reviews on this one because I would have missed out on one of the best thrillers I've seen in years. Sophia Loren is a woman desperate to shake off her narcissistic, abusive husband played by Tony Perkins. When Perkins is wrongly believed dead in a plane crash, he hides out in Loren's apartment so they can collect the life insurance money, split the funds, then part amicably. This being a Hitchcock-style thriller, it doesn't work out that way. What sells the film is the psychological cat-and-mouse game between Loren and Perkins's miserable, mismatched married couple, and a noirish sense of doom lends a great deal of atmosphere.

Shoes (dir. Lois Weber, 1916)

Shoes is the best Lois Weber film I have yet seen and it still packs a wallop a century-plus since its initial release. Mary MacLaren plays a young woman single-handedly supporting her family on a five dollar a week salary. She wears shoes that are falling apart but can never seem to save enough for a new pair-- that is, until an unsavory way of getting the cash presents itself, much to her horror and temptation. This is a heartbreaking little film that showcases a lot of what I love about 1910s American cinema. There's less glamor in the settings and nothing at all genteel or cleaned up about the poverty on display. MacLaren is wonderful in the lead too, her performance a quietly compelling portrait of quiet desperation.

Jeopardy (dir. John Sturges, 1953)

Barbara Stanwyck was in such a wealth of films that I can forgive myself for not realizing this one even existed. After seeing it, it's easily in my top five favorite films of hers. On the surface, the plot sounds like fodder for sleazy sex fantasy: a housewife on vacation is kidnapped by a hot escaped convict. She's racing against time to save her husband from drowning after the tide comes in at the beach where he's trapped; the convict has a very specific price for any aid he's willing to offer. Stanwyck's characterization complicates the situation and the direction amps the tension to a breaking point. Great, great stuff!

Girlfriends (dir. Claudia Weill, 1978)

This film came across my path in a weirdly personal way. One of my sisters got engaged this year. We've been close all of our lives and shared an apartment for years, so this is going to be a big change for both of us. Girlfriends is about a young woman whose best friend is getting married, meaning she'll be on her own for the first time. In addition to making this adjustment, she's a photographer currently hired for weddings and bar mitzvahs, but dreaming of entering the larger world of art galleries. I guess you could say it's a 70s version of a quarter-life crisis film (Noah Baumbach's Frances Ha takes A LOT from it). The performances and direction are exceptional, having that unglamorous, lived-in vibe I love about the films of this period. It also just happened to come into my life at the most resonant time, so there's that.

Ivan the Terrible, Parts One and Two (dir. Sergei Eisenstein, 1945 and 1958)

As a person who hates the idea that realism is the only valid form for cinematic drama, Eisenstein's hyper-stylized Ivan the Terrible movies are a joy. The compositions are like something out of a painting, the acting is operatic, the writing mythic and sweeping. The dance number in Part II is one of my favorite scenes in any movie ever. Best of all, the films rise above their propagandist origins, becoming a fascinating study of institutional power set against individual charisma.

The Red Queen Kills Seven Times (dir. Emilio Miraglia, 1972)

I've been getting more into giallo lately and The Red Queen Kills Seven Times is among the more memorable titles. You have the fashion world setting, a disguised murderer running around in a red cloak, over the top kills, a villainous junkie who looks like Bucky Barnes, a spooky castle with death traps, the works. It's a movie where I don't really care too much about the plot. It's the off-kilter, sinister atmosphere that draws me in, as with most giallo movies.

Little Miss Sunshine (dir. Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris, 2006)

It took Alan Arkin dying for me to finally get around to seeing this much beloved 2000s gem. I expected to only be interested in Arkin as the drug-addled, foul-mouthed grandpa, but the entire movie is so warm-hearted and hilarious that I fell in love with it whole hog. The characters are all quirky without being Quriky (tm), if you know what I mean. And I love the final message about just living your life and not worrying about whether or not you're "successful" in the eyes of society. An old theme to be sure, but done so, so well here. (Also, the mercilessly satirical jab at child beauty pageants is pure gold.)

Pom Poko (dir. Isao Takahata, 1994)

I feel like a lot of western anime fans only see Pom Poko as "lol that movie where the tanuki have comically oversized testicles." And yeah, that is indeed something in this movie but there's so much more. It's one of the boldest films I've ever seen, an "animated documentary" (to use Takahata's words) about a village of tanuki waging war against humankind's encroachment upon the natural world. It's such a genre grab-bag, critic Daniel Thomas' description fits it best: "The story weaves through slapstick comedy, social commentary, satire, surrealism, and tragedy. It changes moods much the way the tanuki change form, bending and molding into a new shape, and relentlessly moving forward." I still think Only Yesterday is Takahata's best film, but Pom Poko is strong competition and yet another film I can see myself rewatching many times to come.

Bullet Train (dir. David Leitch, 2022)

I still kick myself for not seeing this in the theater when it came out. Bullet Train is a wonderful lark of an action film. On first watch, I recall thinking it was like a live-action anime shot in a very Tarantino-esque style. I've seen it a few times now and I enjoy the hell out of it every time. And if you don't like it, well, you just might be a Diesel.

That Cold Day in the Park (dir. Robert Altman, 1969)

Another film with a so-so reputation that I really enjoyed. Sandy Dennis (who's gradually becoming one of my favorites with every performance I see from her) plays a virginal rich woman who takes in a handsome young guy one cold day. Her initial kindness quickly curdles into erotic obsession and her house guest has his own secrets. It's an early Robert Altman film and not his most polished work, but that makes it all the more fascinating to me. It's a creepy psychological thriller with a haunting ending, as well as an interesting time capsule of the late 1960s.

Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (dir. Russ Meyer, 1965)

Where has this movie been all my life?? It's a bizarre campfest about three criminally minded go-go dancers who romp across the California desert, strewing all kinds of havoc in their wake. It's such a strange movie that I don't know how to describe it properly: it's got a New Wave sensibility to it all the while indulging in exploitation B-movie nonsense. Definitely a fun film to watch with a group.

Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (dir. Chantal Akermann, 1975)

I finally bit the bullet to watch this one after it topped the 2022 Sight & Sound list. Do I think it's the greatest film of all time? No, but I don't like singling out any work of art for such a designation. Putting aside all the drama that ensued when this was granted GOAT status, Jeanne Dielman is a striking film. It's definitely not something you just throw on casually-- you need to set aside the time to watch it and be in the right headspace. My initial mild interest morphed into a sense of anxious dread as the film ground along its three hour runtime, its protagonist struggling to retain her total sense of self-possession and control as she's thrown off her groove by unexpected events.

The Wicked Lady (dir. Leslie Arliss, 1945)

This is not high art by any means. It's melodrama with a capital M, laying the cheese on thick. Margaret Lockwood plays a devious, scheming femme fatale in 18th century England who's a gold-digging noblewoman by day and a highwaywoman cavorting with bad boy James Mason by night. This is easily the most entertaining of the Gainsborough melodramas I've yet seen, dripping with soap opera antics, sumptuous costumes, and camp-a-plenty.

War and Peace (dir. Sergei Bondarchuk, 1966-1967)

There is no substitute for reading Tolstoy's massive novel, but this 1966 Soviet version is definitely a fine work in its own right. Filmed in three parts, it's about nine hours long and it does a good job capturing the interior lives of the characters in the source material. Everything about it is just breathtaking: the costumes, the sets, the massive numbers of extras during those battle scenes. It's the kind of intellectually and emotionally stirring epic that makes all those hours fly by.

The Sweet Smell of Success (dir. Alexander Mackendrick, 1957)

I often chafe when people act as though all 1950s American cinema were Leave it to Beaver wholesomeness and buttoned up repression. Some of the nastiest Hollywood movies I've ever seen came out of the 1950s and The Sweet Smell of Success is prime among them. Among the best of the late classic noir period, it follows Burt Lancaster as a popular but monstrous newspaper columnist who uses his power to control the lives of everyone around him, particularly his sister, to whom he has a borderline perverse attachment. The dialogue is as sharp ("You're dead, son. Get yourself buried." "I'd hate to take a bite out of you. You're a cookie full of arsenic.") and the cynicism as thick as the best of Billy Wilder. If you love noir, you can't miss out on this one.

What were your favorite film discoveries of 2023?

[lostyesterday]

I finally finished Enterprise season 1!

Things I liked:

The cast is fun! My favorite characters are still Hoshi and T’Pol, but I really like Travis and Phlox too (although the lack of focus on Travis is tragic). I generally like Trip and Malcolm except when they’re written as being really sexist, ugh.

I’m enjoying the development of Vulcan and Andorian culture so far, although I’m really hoping for more focus on the Andorians in the rest of the show. I think I like the mixed/partially negative depiction of Vulcans from the perspective of humans. It’s interesting.

I think Enterprise is doing a surprisingly good job of being a prequel. It feels like the creators of the show put genuine effort into thinking about how the world of Star Trek would have been a century before TOS. I like the way Enterprise retroactively shows how much human and Vulcan society have changed over time. It’s not as if I love every single retroactive bit of world-building, but even the aspects I don’t like I can generally appreciate and see how there was some thought put into them (unlike some of the other Star Trek prequels tbh, I won’t name names).

The crew movie nights and the other little moments of regular life interspersed throughout episodes are great. Phlox teaching Hoshi his language, Hoshi convincing Travis to sit in the captain’s chair – all these moments go a long way toward making the crew feel like a cohesive group even when there’s not much individual development of anyone except Archer, T’Pol, and Trip.

The way the characters feel less prepared and more uncertain than the crew of any other Trek show because they’re the first and they’re making things up as they go is great too. I think Enterprise nailed that vibe for the first season of the show at least – similarly to how I think Voyager really managed to capture the vibe of being stranded far away from home, giving it a different feeling from any other Star Trek show.

My favorite episodes were The Andorian Incident and Fallen Hero.

Things I didn’t like (under the cut because I don’t want to put negativity straight into the tag):

The sexism. I was prepared for it, but it’s annoying how much (arguably) worse it is compared to the 90’s shows.

It wouldn’t exactly be accurate to say that I dislike Archer because I liked him fine in some episodes, but the fact that he’s definitely my least favorite of the main cast is irritating given that he’s the main character. Whenever T’Pol takes command of Enterprise, I find her so much more fun to watch as the captain than I do Archer.

I wouldn’t say that Enterprise season 1 has a higher proportion of bad episodes compared to the first seasons of Voyager, DS9, and especially TNG, but it does have a higher proportion of boring episodes – episodes that aren’t actively bad but that I just found myself having almost no interest in. This is 90% of the reason I took so long getting through the first season.

I’d also like to specifically complain about all the episodes that made it seem like Travis or Hoshi was going to be a major part before switching them out for Trip or T’Pol or even Malcolm at the last second. I thought the sidelining of the characters of color in Voyager was bad, but it’s even worse in Enterprise so far.

And I’d also like to complain about the episode Shadows of P’Jem which tricked me into thinking Shran would be a major part of it only for him to be in like three scenes. I can’t believe how few episodes he’s in, everyone made it sound like he was a much more major character. :(

I already complained about the Trip pregnancy episode, but I’d also like to complain about the Risa episode which was both bad in the normal ways for a Risa episode and also incredibly transphobic.

Idk what I think about Trip/T’Pol yet (I could go either way depending on how things progress), but at least it isn’t Archer/T’Pol. Every single time the writers tried to force a Moment between them was painful.

Overall opinion: I didn’t hate it! I half expected to hate it, so that’s good. So far, nothing has particularly grabbed me, but it’s significantly better than I expected, I think! I’m hoping season 2 has fewer boring episodes.

[power-chords]

Malcolm’s epiphany constructs a narrative frame—an explanation of the condition or source of the narrative. But this is a frame or condition we only learn about at film’s end, and is thus a terminal frame, or a buried frame, a late embedding of one narrative level by another, or a narrative that takes the “form of a vision” from which the reader or viewer is “rudely ejected” at narrative’s end (Fludernik 29). In American Psycho, A Beautiful Mind, Cypher, eXistenZ, Fight Club, Hide and Seek, Identity, The Jacket, The Machinist, Mulholland Drive, The Number 23, The Others, Premonition, The Prestige, Secret Window, Shutter Island, The Spanish Prisoner, Third Person, Unknown, The Usual Suspects, Vanilla Sky, and so on, the central character at film’s end is revealed to be spectral, virtual, imagined, traumatized, conned, delusional, or in some other way compromised as a credible witness to, or participant in, the narrative’s events. In most of these films, what we thought to be objective narration turns out to have been thoroughly subjective, as a “deeper diegetic ground is inserted below the level we took for the baseline of reality” (Stewart 143). In several of these films we encounter the millennial trope I label retrospective revision: a montage sequence near the end of the movie in which we review earlier scenes, now recognizing the blind-spots, freshly cognizant of how we were deceived and how completely we should revise our understanding of the entire film. Like a transmedial franchise in which the narrative is just so much data to be used, reformatted, and reused, the ending of The Sixth Sense goes about repurposing the film itself, remixing and recontextualizing earlier scenes, a narrative parallel to the new fluidity of the moving image; it can go back and remix itself, even as it directs us forward to acquire and re-watch the movie in its post-theatrical life. This is a new formal logic within popular cinematic narrative: reconfiguration, revision, and remixing.

Audiences today have come to expect final plot twists to be thoroughly integrated into the structure of the film: “The ending can’t seem arbitrary, non sequitur, or tacked on; it should flow naturally and organically (if only in retrospect) from the rest of the story” (Susman). Twist movies today are often made to repay multiple viewings, to enter into a “culture of replay,” in which “the already seen and heard” becomes an “emblematic feature of the media business” (Klinger, “Becoming Cult” 4). This is a type of movie that viewers are encouraged to analyze, reflect back on, likely re-view, and perhaps even read about online in order to fully appreciate the intricacies of the story’s narration. This marks a stark departure from traditional expectations—as Charles Ramírez Berg writes, “For nearly a century now, the poetics of film narration was based on the need to be completely legible to one-time viewers” (31). Writers and producers of these films, in a “cognitive arms race” (Max) with audiences, begin to void long-held narrative contracts. They draft new arrangements with new rules that take into account the attainability and interactivity of contemporary cinema, or all of the digital means that encourage deep immersion in story worlds and negate the primacy of the theater. These movies are internet- and “DVD-enabled,” Thomas Elsaesser writes, their narrative structures determined in part by the technologies audiences use to consume them (“Mind-Game” 38).

—J Lavender-Smith, The New Reflexivity: Puzzle Films, Found Footage, and Cinematic Narration in the Digital Age, 2016. Emphasis mine.

[marointhemoon]

Vigil

Joss Hayes can't move. A stun grenade will do that to you. And now he's at the mercy of a man who thinks he's trying to steal his job. Wonderful. 

Written for AI-Less Whumptober 2024, day 20 (Enemy/stranger to caretaker)

Characters: Malcolm Reed, J. Hayes

Length: 600 words

Joss can't move. A stun grenade will do that to you. And now he's at the mercy of a man who thinks he's trying to steal his job.

Wonderful.

Looking at Reed, he can't fathom why that even is. The man's not stupid. Doesn't he realize he has enough on his plate with the MACOs?

Then again, the thought of a United Earth Military captain with three separate command positions has made Joss snort more than once. To be sure, he can imagine having that responsibility—if he was a fucking colonel. But a UEM soldier below that rank having that much responsibility? Unheard of. And yet here Reed is, shouldering it and acting like it's normal. Even as a major, Joss will go back to being an EMT before he accepts that amount of pressure. 

If only Reed could figure that out.

As it is, Joss stares at him as he keeps his vigil. This is one of the few times he's ever gotten to really look at him. Tense, lean muscle wires over Reed's small frame, frown lines set deep into his face. The man's no older than him—not even 40, for Christ's sake—but he carries himself with the fatigue of someone well into his fifties. Moreover, he seems... worn out. Worn thin. The dark circles attest to that, though Joss isn't dense enough to wonder why.

From where he lays, Reed looks thinner than usual, too. Something uncomfortable settles in Joss' gut. Has he been eating?

Knowing him, probably not well. Joss isn't stupid, either—he knows perfectly well that Reed is saddled with the almost single-handed responsibility of keeping some 110 people alive. Apart from his second- and third-in-command, he’s the ship's line of defense. Webster and Darnell are good kids: level-headed and generally competent, and fucking masterful at their respective specialties. But despite being junior-grade lieutenants, they are kids: Webster's barely older than Ensign Mayweather, and Darnell's maybe Ensign Sato's age. Reed works them hard, just as he does everyone else under him, but the three have come to be thick as thieves. He fights like hell for them; while they try to pay it back, it's clear enough who does most of the protecting.

Joss also knows perfectly well just how similar he and Reed are. They're both independent, hyper-competent, anal-retentive, and sitting near the top of their respective food chains. Everything else aside, it's no real wonder they've clashed so much.

There's also a certain insecurity to Reed, though. It was obvious from the first accusation of trying to take his position, and it's only become clearer since then. Archer's decisions have started to get less ethical and more risky, Reed keeps trying to isolate himself, and—not for fucking nothing—the detachment hasn't exactly been warm and fuzzy towards him or the Fleeters. True, they've all responded in kind, but that's hardly the point. It's not just in the field that Reed expects an enemy combatant around every corner. It's on Enterprise, too.

Yet, that insecure son of a bitch is watching over him as though he's anyone else on Enterprise. With the same stern determination he's probably carried the whole time, Reed has resolved to protect them all—MACO or Starfleet—with his life. Even if he misses out on a few meals or a few nights' sleep because of it.

When I can move again, Joss thinks, I'm going to return the favor. He has no intention of coddling Reed; he doubts he'd appreciate anything that smacks of it. But it's about time he had someone beside him.

For the full list of prompts, go here!

[orangeslikesbread]

MY BLOG.

YELLOOO I'm Malcolm/Mal but most ppl just call me Orange !!! I use He/Him exclusively !! I'm an artist and a writer !!!

My Interests (Top): Starcanpulpwrecked Life Series/Empires X-Men/Marvel Star Wars TF2 The Stanley Parable Stardew Valley Strawberry Shortcake GenLoss Others (feel free to ask !!)

My Accounts: @orangeslikesbread (main acc obvi) @orange-is-bread (alt acc, mainly for shit posting) @yourfavisa-chosen (silly smosh gimmick blog) @hetookthewoodblockinthedivorce (storyblock ask blog) @oranges-makes-boards (mood/stim board acc) @saf-weekly-prompts (SAF Prompt w/ Kai!)

My Fav Ships (Top): Curtwen (SAF) StoryBlock (CC) Trobed (Community) Cherik (X-Men) Jeanroro Shadowrot Stannarrator Jerma/CraftyCoffee (Hatchetverse) FinnPoe Others (ask pleaseeee)

My Fav Things (Top): Oranges Dr. Pepper @kairithemang0 Making Bracelets Music James McAvoy Hatsune Miku

Tags: #orangesyaps - My random silly thoughts #orangesanswers - Answering asks !! #orangessketches - Sketches drawings I made :] #malsfriends - Friend appreciation posts #malsaus - Me talking abt my au's and silly headcanons !!

My Pronouns Page:

Spanish Version:

Stealing this from Kaiden but bracelet and art requests are open !!!!!

[butch-with-a-deep-voice]

Hello! I recently found your blog and wanted to thank you for sharing so much of yourself with us. Your posts about your journey in learning to embrace queer masculinity and your butch identity have been an absolute Goddess sent. If you have the bandwidth and are open to sharing, I would love to hear more about your process of separating masculinity from manhood and embracing queer masculinity. As a fellow trans femme trying to figure out if Butch works for me, I keep hitting roadblocks in learning to appreciate and embrace those masculine/chivalrous traits without identifying them with my formative experiences. I'm Colombian, and chivalry (unfortunately wound up with a lot of machismo) was essential to my upbringing. I resonated a lot with what you shared about pursuing hyperfeminity to leave behind masculinity, and I have reached a point where I can't sustain the hope of waking up and looking like Barbie one day and working toward appreciating the mortal coil I have and stage of transition I'm in. I apologize this got so verbose but I hope it made sense lol

Hey! So this was sent in a few days ago and I wanted to give time to sit on it. This is such a complicated and honestly deeply personal process. One person's relationship to masculinity will look entirely different than another.

It's been a process that I've been working through honestly most of my adult life, even before transitioning. I think there are two major factors that proved the most important, and they're pretty linked with eachother.

Find examples of healthy masculinity that speak to you.

I will preface that due to the nature of media, these will primarily come from men still. It's gonna happen. That is okay actually, it will lead into point 2. Finding healthy examples of masculinity was so necessary for me because masculinity was so wrapped up in just constant negativity. The harm so many men cause to women/queer people. Toxic masculinity and how those who perpetuated it shaped nearly every waking moment of my childhood/adolescence. The entire "anti-men" issue that fully plagues feminist and queer spaces, and how in most of those spaces men are hated on so casually you're looked at funny if you call it out.

Finding examples of both manhood and masculinity that were healthy and safe was so important in being able to reclaim masculinity. As a trans-feminine person I was never going to be able to even start to look at the process of first separating masculinity from manhood, nevermind reclaiming masculinity, if I wasn't able to first view both as not inherently bad. So, I'll provide three of my top examples of healthy masculinity that played really integral roles for me during the early phases of healing my own.

Lord of the Rings Now this is pretty much everyone's go-to, especially if you're a nerd like me. But there's good reason for that. While Tolkien has his slew of problems, from lack of women in the books, to the racist undertones of Orcs/Goblins, his works provide plenty of examples of healthy masculinity. No one would ever say Aragorn isn't masculine, he's peak "manly man". And yet, he's gentle. He's a healer. He recites and writes poetry (to the point that Bilbo goes to him for advice on how to finish a verse). He loves flowers and art and history. He's masculine, but he's unafraid of being soft, and he uses his masculinity to protect. To lead. To love. Not for malice. Samwise Gamgee is frankly a rolemodel to me. I used to joke he and two other fictional characters were my type in men, when in reality, they were my butch-coded role models (Malcolm Reynolds and Milo Thatch). Samwise is still firmly masculine. But he's the softest sweetest man out there, and I hope I can live up to the healthy masculinity he performs daily.

William Prince William is an Indigenous Canadian folk/country artist, who comes from the same neck of the woods I do in terms of region. His music has gotten me through so many tough times I can't even begin to express how important it is to me. One of the biggest reasons he is on this list is so much of his music explores being a man in a healthy way. Whether it is being a father, to the importance of healing your trauma before it hurts those you love, to the importance of being vulnerable as a man in general. Top three songs for some great healthy masculinity imo are "The Gun", "That's All I'll Ever Become", and while it isn't necessarily masculinity focused, "Run". My only other note with him is just uh. Don't listen to the "Gospel First Nation" album. He went a little "born again" during Covid and it nearly killed his career.

Arcane The writers of Arcane wrote gender so well it's ridiculous. You will find plenty of people on tumblr discussing how well it did women, but I think there isn't nearly enough praise for how well they wrote the men in the series. I could go into it more, but honestly, this video essay by my favourite video essayist Schnee details it beautifully (I'd also watch the sister video to this one about women in Arcane, it's pretty great). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBNUgGhPZzY

First and foremost finding healthy examples of masculinity in your life and the media you consume is so important. Find ways to separate those masculine traits you know you want to embody from the toxic ones like "machismo" as you put it. That way you can get into the next part.

Address Internalized Shame Surrounding Masculinity

This one is a doozy. I'm still working on it if I'm being honest. (I would also like to note that a lot of internalized shame work should be done with a professional if you can access one). Shame rules our lives if we let it, not just with gender. It affects everything. Work, family, food, hell shame makes people feel shameful about getting an extra hour of sleep here or there. It makes us hate when we want to just. Relax. It makes us hate when we ask for our needs to be met. Shame work is something EVERYONE should do, ekosi.

But as a trans person, whether or not you decide to claim butch, you MUST eventually look at that big ugly stain that is your shame with masculinity. Even the most hyper feminine of us trans-femmes must do so. Hatred and shame of men and masculinity will continue to fester if left unchecked no matter what. Yes, many men have done terrible things. Yes, we live in a society that favours men to the umpteenth degree and perpetuates toxic masculinity and patriarchy. Yes, as trans-feminine people we were and sometimes still are, associated with a lot of those perceptions and beliefs. It's an awful feeling and it makes you hate yourself. Part of why I went hyper feminine is because of how much I hated my shame. I was so shameful of being born male. Shameful of the fact that I was a "threat" in feminist spaces purely for existing. Shameful of how intimidating I would become if I ever raised my voice because of how powerful my diaphragm is, on top of my already large demeanor. That shame will eat you alive if left to persist, regardless of transition.

That shame must be dealt with. Masculinity cannot be shameful. I'm a complete buzzkill in a lot of queer and feminist spaces because I shut down sarcastic anti-men jokes pretty damn regularly. I shut down the joking perpetuation of the bi "all women and one (1) man" stereotypes. I shut down "ugh men" jokes. Whether or not people who make those regularly realize it or not, those jokes continue to tell men, cis or trans, they are unwanted in queer and feminist spaces. That their very existence is worthy of shame. (and no, the "trans men are an exception" thing doesn't provide an out. They're men too.) It is biphobic, it is transphobic, and it perpetuates colonial patriarchal systems still in place. That cannot be the case. Part of feminism is making masculinity a healthy thing. Part of why it is okay if your personal examples of healthy masculinity end up all being men is because men performing healthy masculinity adds to the overall de-shaming of it. Gender stops mattering when you de-shame masculinity. What matters is healthy masculinity as a whole. Once gender no longer matters for healthy masculinity, the next step of separating it from manhood kind of already did itself.

While there are other small things I've done throughout my life that helped with the overall separation of masculinity and manhood, that in turn allowed me to claim butch for myself, those two steps were absolutely integral in the process. I hope you're able to find things that work for you, and that these examples of mine were helpful to you. Thank you for the wonderful ask 💕