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motifenjoyer · 4 months

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akane kurashiki is (not) allocishet: an analysis

[pt: akane kurashiki is (not) allocishet: an analysis. end pt].

okay so we’ve been meaning to write this for a while but havent bc we’ve been focusing on other projects. slight disclaimer if u dont agree w this hc thats fine, just dont be a dick just bc it interferes w ur own interpretation . we all have our own ways of reading the text so. Yeah!! lets get started

so i just wanna say akane is a character i resonate with in a lot of ways, and a lot of what im going to say comes from my and others’ experiences. ur identities and experiences r def gonna affect how u view a piece of work right?

so when i played through the series in 2023, i initially viewed akane as everyone else did: she’s in love with junpei, and even hced her as bi like most of the fandom. but the more i studied the source material, the more i felt thats not rlly the case?? esp after ztd, like im sorry but i cannot buy the idea that both junpei or akane wanna marry each other. junpei is for another day but in terms of akane i wanna talk abt the idea that she may be aromantic.

immersing myself in the fandom, a lot of ppl’s first impressions of akane’s june persona is that she was initially gonna be this ditzy girl next door who only serves as a love interest for junpei. ofc that ended up not being the case, but i see ppl say that they only rlly cared for akane after finding out she’s zero. which imo is such a missed opportunity for analysis.

as june, akane interacts with the world through tropes. the first thing she does when we’re introduced to her is fall on junpei. and overall is seen as this nervous girl who wouldn’t harm anyone. she flirts w junpei throughout the game, yadda yadda yadda. when it comes to her identity as zero, she desperately wants a perfect ending where she can be with junpei. its guesswork as to which aspects are true of akane, but i personally see these traits as smth she thinks “kanny” would do.

[id: screenshot from 999’s script, black text on a white background that reads:

“Junpei: Well, I dunno. Anything. I mean, you're hiding it. How would I know?

June: You mean, like...the number of men I've dated?

Junpei's heart stumbled over itself.

June: Do you want to know?

He had to admit, he was a little curious.

June: Don't worry.

She smiled at him.

June: Only 18...

June: ...Times 0.

June: Yeah... I guess I just haven't met Mr. Right yet…”

“Number of men” is highlighted in green. End id].

of course, bc of her tumultuous childhood and how she didn’t have many friends, she never rlly had experience w dating. but not much suggests she would beyond her own words.

[id: screenshot from 999’s script, black text on a white background that reads:

“Kanny: You...meant a lot to me...when we were kids...

Kanny: I've liked you...for a long time, Junpei... A really...long...time..”

“Liked” is highlighted in green. End id].

[id: screenshot from 999’s script, black text on a white background that reads:

“"Okay..."

My voice shook as I answered.

It was hot in the room. It felt like my heart was on fire.

6 minutes or not, my heart burned with my feelings for him.

…”

“burned” is highlighted in green. End id].

but actions speak louder than words, and she doesn’t go far beyond flirting and declarations of love. in ztd, she doesn’t even make these advances even when she’s trying to lighten the mood or make things right with junpei. the only time being when she speaks with carlos in the pantry.

[id: a log of dialogue from zero time dilemma which reads:

akane: if it was because of me somehow… then this time i need to rush to his aid. that’s what i’ve decided anyway.

carlos: you really like junpei, don’t you?

akane: wh-what in the world are you saying, carlos?!

carlos: i’m out of my depth when it comes to romance.

end id].

[id: a log of dialogue from zero time dilemma which reads:

carlos: did you bake heart-shaped cookies full of love for your darling junpei?

akane: oh carlos… would you please stop teasing me…

june is meant to be seen as the ideal japanese woman, and since performance/identity is a huge part of her character, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that she’s performing heterosexuality/amatonormativity, by extension femininity (but that’s an analysis for another day).

akane is also slotted into the role of a mother figure for kyle just as sigma with the role of father. i can’t help but think of the scene in little shop of horrors (1986), audrey sings abt a stable and “ideal” middle class life. i remember watching it thinking it was odd, given that im aro and am not interested in settling down or emulating cishet middle class values. but my friend, who is poor just like audrey and akane, told me that it’s a common occurrence for poor ppl to think this way. to want a sense of stability even if it’s stereotypical. i feel like this applies to akane as well. i also hc her with bpd, and instability is a common symptom for us, so it makes sense for her to see junpei as a beacon of such, of normalcy. he’s rlly the only normal part of her childhood. she wants him to fix her lol .

youtube

[id: screenshot from virtue’s last reward which reads:

“i pleaded with her to leave, but she quietly shook her head. there was someone very special to her, she told me. he had saved her life once, and she felt her death would help to repay that favor.” end id].

and while we do see oldkane/vlrkane reminisce abt her life w junpei thru kyle, the passcode being jumpydolls, i feel like thats less abt love and more abt the fact that shes lonely, which a lot of ppl mistake that like. love can fix that.. when it rlly cant. not to mention what i said earlier

akane and junpei rarely make physical contact beyond junpei holding her in his arms and hugging. you can of course be a couple and not be that physically affectionate, but junpei is the only one initiating this. also like?? not even an “i love you” when you haven’t seen each other in nine years???????

[id: cg from nine hours nine persons nine doors. junpei holds akane’s shoulder with a worried expression. Akane has her eyes closed. End id].

[id: screenshot of zero time dilemma. junpei hugs akane near the basketball court in the lounge. akane wears a wedding ring on her right hand. end id].

[id: screenshot from zero time dilemma. junpei holds a ring in his right hand. white text on the bottom reads, “well, remember back in elementary school your dream was to wear a ring?” end id].

this is actually a common experience for aros who dont realize aromanticism is even an option. i remember when i was a kid, i’d have daydreams of getting married and dating ppl but when the opportunity actually came, i was uncomfortable and rejected it.

i feel like junpei’s proposal and akane’s acceptance were reckless of both of them, and probably not even signs of true feelings. junpei’s arc is abt regaining agency, and akane’s is abt control (hashtag cinematic parallels), so it makes sense this would happen. both wish they could return to their childhoods, hence their emotionally immature attitudes + tendency to reminisce abt the past (junpei is counterphobic to this though and eventually gets over it in vlr’s timeline, though akane continues to act this way going forward). poor decision making is a sign of trauma after all.

i mentioned how akane (and junpei but again. Another story for another day) subverts gendered expectations w her personality. aro ppl (as well as lesbians if u wanna go for a lesbian akane reading) tend to feel disconnected from their agab bc yk we arent straight and like a cishet woman liking a man is a sign of womanhood according to Society............ so like what if ur a girl who likes girls? or doesnt like anyone??? what does that make u??? (again, this could either be a trans reading or a lesbian reading)

anyway my point is. i think its more interesting to read akane’s interest in junpei as her wanting stability and a normal life, esp given that she is traumatized and was once poor. i feel like fluffy junepei fanworks make their dynamic very one-note and lack what makes their dynamic intriguing. but hey!! thats just my opinion as an aro person and how i prefer to interpret it

#zero escape #999 spoilers #vlr spoilers #ztd spoilers #akane kurashiki #junpei tenmyouji #analysis tag #image described #Youtube

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literary-illuminati · 9 months

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2024 Book Review #1 – How Beautiful We Were by Imbolo Mbue

I read the overwhelming majority of this book in 2023 but I finished it after new years so review #1 of the new year it is! Despite it by all accounts being very critically acclaimed and well-reviewed, I had absolutely never heard of it before opening up the packaging on a ‘blind date with a book’ thing a bookstore was doing (incredible gimmick, for the record). Overall a great book, if rambling at points and with a somewhat weak and confused ending.

The story takes place in Kosawa, a village on the western periphery of a fictional west African country, with the incredible bad luck to have been built atop a fortune in oil. The story is told through several POVs, and follows the villagers struggle against the Pexton corporation and their country’s de facto neocolonial government to try and have their home restored to what it was before the river and soil were poisoned and children started dying. It’s told on a generational scale – stretching from the ‘80s to the mid 2000’s – and follows the main cast of characters from childhood into their forties, As might be expected from that, it’s not exactly fast-paced or full of heroics – lots of promises and reassurances being given and never lived up to, and dramatic actions being taken and leading to awful tragedies or only compromised half-successes. The book really beats in the theme that if you’re really powerless and the ones fucking you over have all the cards, a lot of time there really isn’t a winning move. Well, and maybe that the heroic, principled attempts at violent resistance repeatedly got everyone involved killed but did win real concessions and aid for the other villagers who were willing to play along (or just to sell out or give up Kosawa for dead), though I’m not entirely sure that’s how the story’s intended to be read.

The prose isn’t usually eye-catching, but it’s extremely well-constructed, and beautiful at points. The story does a lot with shifting points of view, jumping from a corporate one of a particular age-group of children whose lives parallel the story, and closely individual ones from different members of a particular family whose daughter Thula ends up becoming the moral/intellectual heart of the resistance. Each voice feels incredibly distinct and focused on very different things, in a way that really worked for me. The massive timeframe covered also lets the book really indulge in showing what the day to day life of the villagers looks like – how they sustain themselves, the social rhythms of life, the rituals of adulthood, marriage, and childbirth, how widows and children are treated, and how the poisoning of the environment around them weighs down but doesn’t destroy any of it. It even does a great job of really selling the perspective and world-views of people for whom the world is enchanted and spiritual rites have real direct physical effects, which in my experience the vast majority of books about religious/spiritual characters totally fail to.

The tone of things is pretty overwhelmingly melancholic – this is a story with a deep sense of history, which also means a very tragic imagination. Characters who really dedicate themselves to trying to change the world are portrayed as deeply admirable but almost certainly doomed and even likely to cause more harm than good. You see this most prominently with Thula, whose basically a genius and devotes her entire life from childhood to activism and social change with saintly (if not near-inhuman) purity and focus, and dies in her forties having not won much at all. The ones who take what they can, get government jobs and use the opportunity to become exactly as corrupt as the men who came before them and loot the country for the benefit of their friends and families meanwhile – well, they definitely aren’t making the world any better, but they’re shown as very human and sympathetic and they mostly end up with exactly the lives they were hoping for.

#book review #clifi #literature #How Beautiful We Were #Imbolo Mbue

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palmofafreezinghand · 10 months

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date night

Esme and Carlisle catch up before a date night with Carlisle's new coworkers. on ao3 here.

2023.

That evening Esme Cullen looked every bit like the twenty-six-year-old she physically was, despite feeling older than she ever had in her one hundred and twenty-eight years of life.

Her ‘youngest daughter’ and granddaughter had helped pick and style her outfit that evening, which felt like a ridiculous Halloween costume of a “twenty-something.” The dress, floral printed linen, fell to the middle of her calf, and a silt in the skirt reaching the middle of her thigh was held up by spaghetti straps that seemed architecturally unsound. Alice had sent it through the mail months prior with a note that only said ‘Trust me.’ It was from a brand that started with R, Resolution, Renovation, Restoration, Reformation, or something like that. The dress showed more skin than the negligee Esme had worn on her wedding night. Granted, that garment had long sleeves, and a high neck, and went to her ankles, but the point still stood.

Alice had assured her the dress would not get her stoned in the town square and was indeed very in fashion and the “perfect” choice for that evening’s date. One of her husband’s many current occupations was a first-year residency at a large teaching hospital. He was pretending to be in his mid-twenties, barely out of medical school, and newly-ish married. His coworkers had formed a unique sense of camaraderie and after a lot of persuasion had convinced Carlisle, who in turn convinced Esme, to join them and their partners for drinks and dinner.

It was a stark contrast from Esme’s own career — a phrase which still felt surreal to use — where she was pretending to be in her late thirties with the help of a remote workplace, clever makeup and fashion choices, and extremely well-forged government documents. It was a relief to not have to pretend to be an early professional for the rest of her eternity, unlike her husband, but it had its downsides. When you tell a lie enough, “thirty-nine, no kids, my husband doesn’t mind how much I work,” it becomes true in a way.

Going back to the truth, twenty-six deliriously in love with a man who cared very much that she worked so frequently, felt like entering a world she didn’t belong in. It was a disconnect she had become well acquainted with over the years, whether her role was housewife, devoted adoptive mother, or college student to the public she was always something different to those she lived with. A wife who expected equal domestic labor, a twenty-six-year-old woman whose house a bunch of teenagers lived in, or a grandmother. It was a necessary part of how they lived, molding into the role humans expected of them no matter how uncomfortable the fit.

This role in particular — the woman she was forever frozen as — was more disquieting than most. The dress did not help. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window as she walked and paused mid-step after determining the real estate office was closed for the day. She had let her hair dry naturally in the waves she rarely let see the light of day. Her makeup was done with the instruction of Alice and Ness over a video call. They had spent ten minutes instructing her how to comb her brows and where to place her rogue because apparently applying blush where a blush would naturally occur was no longer in fashion.

Alice had called the second she saw Esme debate bringing a jacket for modesty’s sake, informing her under no circumstance was Esme allowed to ruin her handiwork. Ness had chimed in from across the room, “Just because you’re a grandmother doesn’t mean you have to dress like one.” The three stayed on the video chat for forty minutes, falling into a familiar warm rhythm despite being on separate continents. The entire family had not all been in the same place at the same time for more than four years. She was able to ignore this fact most days with the aid of modern technology but seeing their smiles and watching them laugh had the homesickness making itself known. Esme had only made an excuse to hang up the call when Ness attempted to explain the definition of the word ‘gagged.’

Her world, which was supposed to be unchanging until the end of time, had morphed into something unrecognizable over the last century. The downtown street she was walking along, for example, was unidentifiable as the small town she had vacationed in seventy years prior. It was a three-hour drive from their current home, but only twenty minutes from one of the hospitals Carlisle worked at. The streets were still fairly empty, due to the group meeting for dinner on a weekday afternoon. It was an ideal time for the hospital staff’s schedule, and those with vampiric-based concerns about sun, but apparently, it was not a popular time for dinner for most people. The setting sun and overcast meant she was able to walk down the sidewalk freely, without worrying about blinding a passerby and subsequently being murdered by a group of cape-wearing Italians or the overwhelming cacophony of thousands of beating bloody hearts.

That afternoon the heartbeats were a hum she could ignore, like the buzzing of a gnat. There were probably under a hundred people on that block, tucked away in businesses and apartments or driving by in their cars. She could ignore them.

A man let out a wolf whistle behind her, punctuated by the slam of a car door. She could murder even the strongest man with minimal effort, yet, there she was gripping her purse and quickening her step, the intrinsic fear present no matter how minor the danger.

Thirty seconds later a large hand splayed against her lower back. She flinched ever so slightly at the contact before she recognized the weight of the hand, the cold of the gold wedding band, and the smell of the Sandalwood body wash she had purchased for him on a whim the month prior. Her fingers loosened around her purse strap as she glanced up at her husband.

“Hello, love,” Carlisle said, keeping the hand on her back as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

She gave him a once over. He had dressed just as ‘young’ as she had, only for him it didn’t look like a costume. He was wearing a light blue button-up, the top two buttons undone to reveal his neck but not his undershirt. His hair was styled looser than usual, a stray lock lying on his forehead, as usual. For the past few months, he had experimented with a pair of unnecessary glasses, with a modern take on Oxford frames. The outfit was quite becoming and he knew it.

“I hope,” she said, taking a step to the right so they were out of the line of nonexistent foot traffic, he, of course, followed right alongside her to stand in front of her, “I am the only woman you whistle at like that.”

“I assumed you knew it was me,” he said, brow furrowed as it always did when she flinched as she had, “my apologies.”

“I figured it out quick enough,” she said, waving away his unnecessary apology.

He nodded but was clearly unappeased by the way he was pressing his lips together, resembling a thin line.

She poked at the center of his chest, “Are you going to greet your wife properly or just holler at me on the street?”

“Oh,” he grinned, placing his hand on its former spot on her back to pull her closer and give her the requested kiss hello.

After far too few seconds she reluctantly broke the peck, which both were attempting to escalate. “We’re in public,” she muttered inches away from his lips, her arm had somehow found its way around his neck.

“This may be hard to believe, but a man can kiss his wife in public these days,” Carlisle smiled, leaning in for another kiss, which was met with his wife’s cheek as she turned her head.

“It’s never just a kiss with you,” she laughed, untangling her arm from his shoulders.

He sighed but did not attempt to refute her statement, knowing he could not win that argument. One public indecency warning had been enough of a deterrent for both of them. The fact it had been written by their son’s father-in-law had only served as a further incentive against public displays of affection.

“I’ve missed you,” he smiled, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“I missed you.”

It had been almost two weeks since they had seen each other last. Carlisle was working himself to the bone, holding positions at two separate hospitals and working part-time at a charity clinic. To her credit, Esme was also working herself to the bone, taking full advantage of the boom in the work-from-home movement consulting for half a dozen firms, and serving countless nonprofits. When the two were finally able to carve out time for each other they were forced to take advantage, knowing it could be weeks until they would see each other again.

Miraculously this evening had worked out for both of their schedules. They each had eight hours free of any obligations, they would spend two or three hours socializing and still have five to themselves. They had managed to plan to arrive at the restaurant separately, fifteen minutes before everyone else had scheduled to arrive.

“Did I compliment the dress yet?” Carlisle asked quietly, his fingers mindlessly playing with the back buttons.

“You did not,” Esme smiled.

“It’s divine,” he said, dropping the hand on her back to take her hand as she began to lead them down the block. His gaze never left the dress. “Just incredible.”

“It was a gift from Alice.”

Carlisle fetched his phone out of his pocket, “Siri, remind me to send Alice a thank you gift.”

“Done,” the robotic voice of his phone responded as he slipped the device back into his pocket.

Esme laughed, leaning into his side. “You don’t look too bad either.”

“You like me in blue.”

Esme grinned. They walked for a minute, slower than the average human before she spoke. “You don’t think the dress is too revealing?”

He glanced down at her, looking over the dress again as if he had not been leering a minute before. “Not at all. But have I ever objected to you wearing less clothes?”

Her own laugh caught her off guard, as the juxtaposition of her seemingly innocent son of a preacher husband speaking freely always did.

“Do you not like it?” Carlisle asked sincerely.

She shrugged. “It’s pretty, but it’s a little more daring than I’m used to.”

“If you’d like to take it off I’d be more than willing to assist,” he winked. The frequency with which he did this gesture indicated he must have thought it charming, even though it had never worked on his wife. Alright, it did not work on her often.

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, smacking his arm lightly.

Despite her impressive charade of levity, he dropped the flirtation. “If you are uncomfortable, I have a sweater in my car. I’m parked right there,” he said, motioning behind him.

“I would appreciate that,” she said, and they turned to head back the way they had just walked. “How was work?” She asked as they walked.

“Less frustrating than the last time I saw you.”

“Is Dr. Barnes still making calls you disagree with?”

“Frequently,” he sighed, digging his keys out of his car, “but none of his choices cost a life this week.”

“Small victories?” She joked.

“I have always been envious of your ability to find the positive in any situation,” he said popping the trunk.

“What can I say? It’s a gift that has gotten me nearly killed on more than one occasion.”

He laughed politely, but his eye twitch gave away his disturbance at the reference to her ‘near death’ experiences he hated to remember. She stood on the sidewalk, peering into his trunk as he dug.

“Sandy was nice enough to drop off the fabric you ordered,” he said, moving a large pink plastic shopping bag. One of the hospitals he worked at was minutes away from a quilt shop. Rather than pay for shipping or drive hours from home Carlisle graciously agreed to pick up her orders on his way home. “She threw in a couple of charm packs and jelly rolls.”

“How well are you tipping her?” Esme scoffed. He only smiled in return.

Along with the fabric were three changes of scrubs tucked in a plastic crate, his usual medical bag, and an open duffel bag he had been living out of for three years. He picked a half dozen books out of the bag. She rolled her eyes when he took out a framed photo of her. Finally, he found what he was looking for, he passed her the forest green cardigan.

“This is mine,” she said. He nodded, eyebrows raised in question. “Why do you keep my sweater with you?”

He looked down at his feet, a lopsided smile. “I miss you, occasionally.”

“Is that my shampoo?” She asked, looking in the duffel bag.

“I miss you, frequently,” he grinned.

It was shocking, and very charming, even after a century, how much he seemed to fancy her. “Perhaps, if you didn’t work the jobs of six people you would see me more often.”

“Remind me how many W-2s will you have this year?” He asked, locking the car.

“This isn’t about me,” she said, slipping on the cardigan. “Does this ruin the look?” She asked as he joined her on the sidewalk.

“I think that would be impossible,” he said, taking her hand again. “Do you want to sit for a few minutes?” He asked, motioning to a bench down the block. She nodded and they began to walk.

“How is your work?” Carlisle asked.

“Wonderful, I got assigned to lead on the mining town project.”

“Congratulations! That’s the mining town soon-to-be strip mall right?”

“That’s not funny,” she said, squeezing his hand in jest. “I also got an offer for an on-site project in Delaware.”

“Oh?” Carlisle asked, making a poor attempt at hiding his disdain for on-site projects. He was barely tolerating her current work schedule and he got her undivided attention once a fortnight, six months apart with hundreds of miles dividing them would be uncomfortable, to say the least.

“I did not accept,” she said.

“If you wanted to—”

“I don’t,” Esme reassured him, taking a seat on the bench. He took the seat next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. Her hand rested on his knee, her head on his shoulder. “I spoke to Alice and Ness today.”

“How are they?”

“They seem well. Alice is Alice. Ness said she would be calling you soon about something at work I didn’t understand.”

“I look forward to it.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching people across the street. An elderly couple were walking down the street bickering. A man in his forties was talking on the phone, a small dog dragging him along the sidewalk. A young couple turned the corner, with three children in tow. A little boy, four or five, with bright red hair was being terrorized by his little sister, a blonde who could not have been older than three. The parents had their hands full with an infant who was screeching like an owl.

Esme didn’t speak until the family walked into one of the shops. “I miss them,” she said.

“As do I. It’s been too long.”

“Have you earned any paid time off yet?”

“A few days, but I will have two weeks next year. Perhaps we could invite them out for the holidays?”

“I don’t want to trouble them,” Esme said, she was interrupted by the ping of her and Carlisle’s cellphones.

Carlisle checked his, laughed to himself, and angled the screen so she could see.

A text from Edward, ‘We’ll all be there.’

A follow-up text from Alice, ‘Only if Esme takes off the cardigan.’

Emmett’s text came in as she was looking at the screen, ‘Carlisle wants to take off more than the cardigan.’

“What did we ever do without a psychic?” Esme laughed as Carlisle typed out a response and then stowed his phone in his pocket.

“She does prove helpful in some instances.”

“Ridiciolusly irritating in others.”

“Yes, I remember the incident of ’57 as if it were yesterday,” Carlisle chuckled.

“Is there anything I should know about your coworkers?” Esme asked.

“There’s no one I’ll tell you to stay away from.”

“That’s a first.”

“I know. I think you’ll enjoy Madison, she works in pediatrics, and her partner the most.”

“I’m looking forward to finally putting faces to all of the names.”

“They’re all quite eager to meet you. More than one of them has joked you must be fictional.”

“Technically I am,” she laughed lightly, but it sounded sad even to her.

“Not the Esme I talk about.”

She ignored the compliment, sitting up and glancing at her watch. “Should we start walking?” She angled her wrist for him to see.

He shook his head, “They are all habitually late, I think we have time.”

They returned to people watching. Her head fell on his shoulder again, and his hand on her shoulder started to play with her hair. The silence was comfortable, like an old armchair next to a crackling fire. It was often that way for them. A large truck passed with all four windows down, Shania Twain’s “Any Man of Mine,” playing so loud it shook the car’s frame. The couple simultaneously blew air out of their nose, glancing at each other with a smile.

“I can’t say that was the song I expected,” Esme said.

“Me either,” Carlisle agreed.

They fell quiet again, her hand on his knee was mindlessly drawing shapes.

“I have been thinking of something,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I’m shocked,” she smiled, squeezing his knee.

“Would you be opposed if this was the last time I worked this schedule?”

“Are you truly asking me if I would be displeased by you working less?”

“I wanted to make sure before any decisions were made. I have been thinking we give this all a few good years but the next time we move could be to somewhere a little quieter. A small town, with internet, of course, so you can still do your work, but where I won’t need to work seventy-twos.”

“Carlisle, don’t feel as if you have to slow down on my account.” Perhaps she had given him too hard of a time about his schedule. She was in no position to judge. She was his wife, her role was to support him —

“I love you but it’s solely on my account. When this was necessary it was fulfilling but now… I fear I’m too old to never slow down.”

“I know what you mean.”

“If you’re old what am I?”

“No one is debating the fact that you’re old.”

“So you would not object to moving somewhere quieter in a few years? Having me around the house more?”

“Have you invited Edward yet?”

“Am I that transparent?” Carlisle laughed.

“I like to think I simply know you well.”

“Bella has been eyeing a Literature program at a university in Canada. I know you have to stay in the States but there are quite a few border towns. It would certainly be less of a distance than now.”

“I presume the rest of them would stay overseas.”

“I don’t know. Have you spoken to Rosalie recently?” Carlisle asked.

“No,” Esme muttered. It was a sore subject. “She’s invited me on a few trips I have had to decline, we have not spoken much since the last one I missed.”

“You haven’t reached out?”

“I’ve learned if she is cross it’s better to let her simmer.”

“That may be, but I don’t think she’s angry. Hurt, maybe, but I think she’s mainly trying to respect your space. She’s proud you’re working.”

“So you have clearly spoken to her.”

“She calls almost every Tuesday.”

“Really?” Esme asked. Rosalie and Carlisle had never been the best of friends, for many years they got along purely for Esme’s benefit.

“She calls to ask about you. I won’t betray her trust but I think she’s trying to give you the same grace you gave her when she first moved out on her own. I respect this is your relationship, but I think you should give her a call. Maybe invite her out here, before the holidays.”

“You don’t think she’s angry at me?”

“If she is she will get over it quickly,” Carlisle shrugged.

“I miss when life was simple,” Esme said, running her free hand through her hair.

“Things with Rosalie were never simple,” Carlisle laughed.

“I meant the whole world, I feel like a grandmother trying to figure this all out.”

“You are a grandmother.”

“Do you never feel as if the whole world is changing around you and you can’t keep up?”

He scoffed. “No, I always feel completely up to date with the times. Pray tell, are women allowed the vote yet?”

“I was asking a sincere question, Carlisle.”

He squeezed her upper arm in apology. “Of course I do, Es. Frankly, I think it would be concerning if I did not.”

“How do you keep up with it all?”

“Many would say I don’t. In fact, if I recall correctly you would be the one leading that thought process.”

“Carlisle.”

“First off, I think you aren’t giving yourself enough credit. You’re quite progressive for a hundred and twenty-eight, even if our granddaughter doesn’t agree. Second, I think what helps the most are the moments I do feel young.”

“For instance?”

“When I see you, for one. When you wear your hair like this. When I look at you in this dress.” He had leaned closer while delivering this line, the hand not around her shoulders rested above her knee, slowly trailing to mid-thigh.

“Is that right, Doctor Cullen?” Esme asked, recognizing his intent and matching the dare.

It was unclear who initiated the kiss, she thought it was him, but all she knew was she certainly did not feel old and the world felt quite simple.

“Get it, Cullen!” A deep voice shouted from across the street after what she would consider an embarrassing amount of time in retrospect.

Carlisle broke the affection, turning to the man, the two were positioned in a way she was blocked from what she assumed was Carlisle’s coworker’s view. He untangled his arm from around her shoulders and waved at the man across the street.

“Hello, Jaxson, with an X.”

“You don’t have to say with an X every time,” the man, apparently Jaxson, bellowed across the street.

“I assure you I do,” Carlisle chuckled.

"Hi, Mrs. Cullen," Jaxson yelled, she could hear the smile in his voice.

She waved over her husband's shoulder, refusing to show her face.

“We’ll be over in just a moment," Carlisle said.

The man did not respond verbally, but Carlisle’s light-hearted scoff made her think there must have been a gesture. Esme waited until the heavy footsteps and boisterous laughter faded paired with the sound of the restaurant door closing to look at her husband finally.

"Do I want to know what that gesture was?"

"Proof that, while the entire world changes around us men stay exactly the same," Carlisle chuckled lightly.

“That was absolutely mortifying,” she groaned, forehead falling on his chest.

“I have caught him in the on-call room in compromising situations on more than one occasion. Trust me, he does not find this mortifying. In fact, he might think higher of me because of this.”

“Just like in Grey’s Anatomy.”

“That television program is completely fictional,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and then standing. He held his hand out to help her up.

“You love that show and you know it,” she smiled.

As they began to walk he draped his arm around her back, her hand slid into his back pocket.

“To answer your question, this,” he said, hitting the crosswalk signal. She cocked a brow in question. “This,” he motioned with his head to the two of them, “that,” he glanced back at the bench with a lopsided grin, “are some of the things that make it feel like it’s not pretending and is what makes the pretending worth it. I can have an evening like this when I was fated for an eternity of solitude and misery, makes it worth it.”

#esme cullen #carlisle cullen #my stories #for those who like little Easter eggs “better than the last time I saw you” is in reference to a moment of respite #if I'm allowed to say this is one of my favorites of mine

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misskattylashes · 11 months

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The Dichotomy of Being a Teenage Alex Turner Fan

In this article I look at why I think so many teenage fans direct so much hate towards Miles.

Look at this image search I did on Alex’s name. First person whose name comes up ‘Miles Kane’, first other person he is in another picture with, Miles...before a puff piece about Louise or Taylor. It’s Miles. There are more results with Miles than anyone else. Whether people like it or not, Miles and Alex are intrinsically linked.

In the words of the big man himself ‘stop and wait a sec’...... imagine Miles was Mila, a constant female companion of Alex’s who he had been close to for nearly twenty years. Had been at his side more than any other woman, had done two duets with him and whilst touring the second one, their performances were so sexually charged you thought any moment soon they were actually going to have sex on stage. What would you think? You would think they were or had been in a romantic relationship. And even though you haven’t seen much of them together over the past few years, Mila constantly talks lovingly about Alex in her interviews, and Alex invites Mila to be the support act for the final days of a very long world tour, and on one of the dates he lets Mila stand side-stage (something his official girlfriend doesn’t get to do) and throughout the set he sings to Mila and can’t stop glancing at her. People would be enamoured with their love story and desperate for them to be together.

So why is it different just because Miles is a guy?

Of course there is the obvious. If Alex is gay, then the teenage fans stand no chance with him, which would be upsetting. But even me, as a creaky old Gen X-er, had gay pop stars who were attractive and sexy – Holly Johnson and Paul Rutherford from Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Andy Bell from Erasure, even Boy George got screamed at, but we accepted they were gay and we didn’t stand a chance and that was it.

Of course, there was no social media then, but did we write hateful letters to them or their partners, or put up posters on street corners saying how disgusting they were? (the 80s equivalent to posting all over Twitter) No.

So why the anger towards Miles?

Unfortunately when I was growing up, homophobia was acceptable. Gay people were constantly the butt of jokes, straight comedians would pretend to be effette just for laughs. At school we even had the reprehensible Section 28, imposed by Thatcher’s government where any mention of homosexuality was banned, even books featuring gay characters, to apparently help prevent us from experimenting and catching AIDS (yes I grew up in the Dark Ages)

But there comes the rub. Because homophobia was acceptable, any negative feelings we had towards our gay pop stars or their partners wasn’t something we felt bad about so we felt no need to pick on anyone as a way of dealing with our own conflicted emotions

Fast forward to 2023. Gay people have rights, can marry, have children, are positively represented in the media, we have Pride, which is on the point of becoming too commercialised, and to be homophobic is to most young people not cool or acceptable.

Those same girls who spew hate towards Miles probably paint rainbows on their pencil cases during Pride, have male gay friends at school and would have a go at anyone who doesn’t support trans rights.

But then there is the fact that the celebrity they desire has a constant male companion, who he has been more publicly intimate with then any of the girlfriends he has had. Scratch beneath the surface and you can spot the differences in them when they fell out after EYCTE -both a shell of their former self. When there was a brief break in Lockdown in the UK, who did Alex choose to meet? Miles. Whether the fangirls consciously or subconsciously think there is something going on, it makes them feel uncomfortable with themselves. The presence of Miles Kane makes them realise they’re not necessarily that right-on girl who is into gay rights, because when they actually think about it, and think about what men do, they don’t like it.

But instead of realising that this is just part of being a grown up – we all have things about ourselves we don’t like, they direct their anger and frustration at Miles, as if he didn’t exist then they wouldn’t be confronted by these unpleasant feelings they have.

So, what I am trying to say is whilst I find the comments about Miles disgusting and cruel, just remember with these girls the person they really hate is themselves, while Miles lives his lovely life with his career and his friends and Alex and Maxie.

I think we know who is the winner here.

#sorry for the long essay #but it had to be said #i actually feel a bit sorry for them #miles is living the life they will never have #this only applies to teens btw #miles kane #alex turner #milex

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thisisnotthenerd · 6 months

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Dimension 20 Episode of the Day: 3/22

Today's Episode is: Neverafter, Episode 17, The Last Wish

Original Release Date: 3/22/2023

The Quick Synopsis: Destiny's Children make some new friends, reunite with old allies, and make a plan to save the Neverafter.

Quotes:

"You know, I don't let anything determine what I'm going to do about my life. I wake up at 5 AM every day. I work out so that I can fight with a button and a pin." ~ Tom Thumb

The Golden Goose & Ylfa Snorgelsson on Fairytales:

"Have you ever been... Have you ever had a story that you loved so much that you were always excited to hear it again?"

"Yeah, Three Blind Mice."

"That's the one?"

"Yep. Short, sweet, it's got animals. I'm in."

"All right. All right. "

"Sometimes it feels like in my social interactions I set up hurdles that other people aren't willing to jump. "

"You know, I think that you're a charming little girl who knows exactly what you like-"

"And what I like is what a grandma would like."

PInocchio's Soliloquy:

"Milady. I am Pinocchio. Some have called me the Boy of Destiny. I see myself only as the son of Geppetto. I have traveled here with my friends to beseech your aid in writing a tale of healing. For our world. We know you choose no side, but still would ask for your help."

Alt: "Where the white women at?"

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 episode of the day #neverafter #destiny’s children

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 10 months

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

November 26, 2023

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

NOV 27, 2023

A four-year-old dual Israeli-American citizen was among the 17 more hostages released by Hamas today. Israel released 39 Palestinian prisoners, all of whom were under 19 years old. Hamas has expressed interest in extending the truce; Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu has echoed that interest so long as each day brings at least ten more hostages out of captivity. Officials from the U.S., Egypt, and Qatar continue to negotiate.

In the Washington Post today, reporters Steve Hendrix and Hazem Balousha put on the table the idea that both Netanyahu and Hamas “may be on the way out.” Such a circumstance would permit changes to the current political stalemate in the region, perhaps bringing closer the two-state solution for which officials around the world, including U.S. president Joe Biden, continue to push.

Israelis are furious that Netanyahu failed to prevent the October 7 attack, and seventy-five percent of them want him to resign or be replaced when the crisis ends. At the same time, Hendrix and Balousha write, Palestinians are angry enough at Gaza’s leadership to be willing to criticize Hamas.

Whether Hendrix and Balousha are right or wrong, it is significant that a U.S. newspaper is looking for a change of leadership in Israel as well as in Gaza. That sentiment echoes the statement of Netanyahu’s own mouthpiece, Israel Hayom, about a month ago. Begun by U.S. casino mogul Sheldon Adelson to promote Netanyahu’s ideas, the paper in early November said that Netanyahu should “lead us to victory and then go.”

Meanwhile, Iran-backed Houthi forces from Yemen fired two ballistic missiles at a U.S. Navy destroyer, the USS Mason, this evening, missing it by about ten nautical miles (which are slightly longer than miles on land), or eighteen and a half kilometers. Earlier in the day, the USS Mason and Japanese allies rescued a commercial vessel, the Central Park, when it came under attack by five pirates in the Gulf of Aden near Somalia. The USS Mason captured and arrested the attackers as they fled. The USS Mason is part of the Dwight D. Eisenhower Carrier Strike Group deployed to the region. Attacks on shipping in the area have increased since the October 7 attack. Last week, Yemeni Houthis seized a cargo ship linked to Israel.

As Congress prepares to get back to work after the Thanksgiving holiday, Senate majority leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) today released a letter addressed to his colleagues outlining the work he intends to get done before the end of the year. He emphasized that he and the Democrats want bipartisan solutions and urged his colleagues to work with Republicans to isolate the Republican extremists whose demands have repeatedly derailed funding measures.

Top of Schumer’s list is funding the government. The continuing resolution that passed just before Thanksgiving extended funding deadlines to two future dates. The first of those is January 19, and Schumer noted that lawmakers had continued to work on those bills over the Thanksgiving holiday to make sure they pass.

Next on Schumer’s list is a bill to fund military aid to Ukraine, Israel, and the Indo-Pacific region as well as humanitarian assistance for Palestinian civilians and money for U.S. border security, including funding for machines to detect illegal fentanyl and for more border agents and immigration courts. President Biden requested the supplemental aid package of about $105 billion back in October, but while the aid in it is popular among lawmakers, hard-right Republicans are insisting on tying aid for Ukraine to a replacement of the administration’s border policies with their own. Some are also suggesting that helping Ukraine is too expensive.

Schumer noted that U.S. aid to Ukraine is vital to its ability to continue to push back the Russian invasion, while Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) has pointed out that money appropriated for Ukraine goes to the U.S. defense industry to build new equipment as older equipment that was close to the end of its useful life goes to Ukraine.

Foreign affairs writer Tom Nichols of The Atlantic explains that foreign aid is normally about 1% of the U.S. budget—$60 billion—and 18 months of funding for both the military and humanitarian aid in Ukraine have been about $75 billion. Israel usually gets about $3 billion; the new bill would add about $14 billion to that. (For comparison, Nichols points out that Americans last year spent about $181 billion on snacks and $115 billion on beer.)

Schumer reminded his colleagues that backing off from aid to Ukraine would serve the interests of Russian president Vladimir Putin; backing off from our engagement with the Indo-Pacific would serve the interests of China’s president Xi Jinping.

“The decisions we will have to make in the coming weeks on the aid package could determine the trajectory of democracy and the resilience of the transatlantic alliance for a generation,” Schumer wrote. “Giving Putin and Xi what they want would be a terrible, terrible mistake, and one that would come back to haunt us…. We cannot let partisan politics get in the way of defending democracy….”

Schumer said he would bring the measure up as soon as the week of December 4.

Schumer’s letter came the day after the annual day of remembrance of the 1932–1933 Holodomor famine in Ukraine, when the Soviet Union under leader Joseph Stalin starved 3.5 to 5 million Ukrainians, seizing their grain and farms in an attempt to erase their national identity.

In a statement in remembrance of Holodomor yesterday, President Biden drew a parallel between the Holodomor of the 1930s and Russia’s war against Ukraine today, noting that “Ukraine’s agricultural infrastructure is once more being deliberately targeted” as Russia is “deliberately damaging fields and destroying Ukraine’s grain storage facilities and ports.” (Even so, Ukraine has managed to deliver more than 170,000 tons of grain to Somalia, Ethiopia, Kenya, and Yemen in the past year.)

“On this anniversary, we remember and honor all those, both past and present, who have endured such hardship and who continue still to fight against tyranny,” Biden said. “We also recommit ourselves to preventing suffering, protecting fundamental freedoms, and responding to human rights abuses whenever and wherever they occur. We stand united with Ukraine.”

On the Ukrainian remembrance day of Holodomor, Russia launched 75 drones at Kyiv, its largest drone strike against Ukraine since the start of its invasion in February 2022.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Letters From An American #Holodomor #Ukraine #war #hostages #diplomacy #Joe Biden #Heather Cox Richardson #history #famine

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helputrust · 10 months

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|| Get Infinite Blessings ||

DONATE BLOOD Have BLOOD KA RISHTA with HELP U TRUST

Join Help U Blood Donor Campaign

On the occasion of

WORLD AIDS DAY 2023

Help U Educational and Charitable Trust

In association with

SAHARA Hospital

Organizes

Blood Donation Camp

Date : 01.12.2023

Day : Friday

Timing : 09 am to 04 pm

Venue : Blood Bank Center, SAHARA Hospital, Viraj Khand, Gomti Nagar, Lucknow

#HelpUBloodDonor

#blooddonation #BloodDonationCamp #blooddonationchallenge #blooddonation2022 #BloodDonationCampaign #BloodDonationDrive #THELESEMIA #thelesimia #WorldThalassemiaDay #विश्व_थैलेसीमिया_दिवस #थैलेसीमिया #SaharaHospital

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@HelpUTrustDrRupalAgarwal @RupalAgarwal.HELPU @drrupalagarwal @HelpUTrustDrRupal

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umbry-fic · 11 months

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Heart Beats

Summary: She counts the steady beats of his heart, and promises to always protect him.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Word Count: 1721 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 12/11/2023

Notes: A short fic written to Heart Rate ♯0822.

~~~

The first time Colette had listened to the steady thump of Lloyd’s heart had been, like most things, an accident.

She’d gone to visit him, treading carefully through the familiar forest path, a basket of her grandmother’s cookies held tightly in hand. Her gaze had been trained on the ground, on the lookout for any pebbles or stray twigs that could spell disaster. It had been one of the rare days that she’d been allowed to leave the Church before the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and she’d been determined not to ruin it, eager to share the promise of delectable treats with her best friend after a long, draining day of memorising scriptures.

He’d been sitting on the river bank, kicking his feet in the river’s gentle waters when she’d emerged from the forest. At the sight of his russet eyes widening and a grin spreading across his face as he’d jumped to his feet, all thoughts of caution had fled her mind, and she’d rushed towards him with an answering smile, the fatigue draining from her body.

Time and time again, she forgot just how slippery the logs bridging the two sides of the river were.

Somehow, he managed to prevent her from falling face-first into the water, the two of them slamming into the dirt with a rather loud thud.

All the air having been driven from her lungs, she simply lay still, her head resting on solid warmth as strands of gold pooled around her. Her ear pressed against Lloyd’s chest, she could hear his beating heart, the sound echoing in her ears. He didn’t move an inch either, likely staring up at the wide blue sky as he nursed what had to be an aching pain at the back of his head.

For a moment, there was nothing in the world but the two of them, and the steady thumps, continuing ever onwards to a regular rhythm. It was strangely alluring - she felt as if she could close her eyes and lose herself in this sound, one she had never considered before now.

“Ow,” he’d mumbled, breaking the strange spell that had fallen over her. In an instant, they had scrambled to their feet, a callused hand offered to help her up. She would apologise for the fall and the broken cookies, and he would tell her there was no need to, and the incident would completely slip his mind.

But still, she mulled over it.

~~~

“Press two fingers to the other person’s wrist as I demonstrated just now. You should be able to feel their pulse,” Professor Raine instructed.

The classroom bustled with activity, students leaning over to whisper in their friend’s ear as notes were discreetly passed from desk to desk. Professor Raine had decided to hold a lesson on basic first aid, having declared that just because she was the only one in the room that could actually use healing artes did not mean that learning “such important life skills” was useless.

“Here! You can check mine!” Lloyd grinned, stretching out his arm so it was at just the right height.

Furrowing her brows in concentration, Colette did as Professor Raine had instructed. Two fingers pressed to the wrist at a certain spot…

“Oh! I can feel it!” she gasped in delight, concentrating once more to count the beats in her head.

1, 2, 3, 4…

~~~

It became something of a habit. Whenever she could, she’d find some way to count the beats of his heart. When he slid his hand into hers, for just a moment, she would shift her fingers to press against where his pulse leapt against his skin. The few times he’d noticed, blinking at her with confusion in his eyes, she’d flushed and averted her gaze, mumbling an excuse of practising what Professor Raine had taught them.

How could she explain when she struggled to understand it herself? His heartbeat, strong and steady, was intimately tied to his life. So long as one continued, so too would the other. It was a reassurance that he was still here, by her side, his presence enough to make her forget, for just a bit, the duty she carried.

She couldn’t possibly tell him how terrified she was that one day, she would lose him. Whether she succeeded or failed to regenerate the world, she would have no choice but to leave him behind, and she would never listen to the beating of his heart again. And if she failed, then the world would slip closer to ruin, and that steady sound may finally falter. That was the one thing she could not bear, the one thing she could not let pass.

Clinging tightly to each beat of his heart as they gave her the strength to carry on… She could never tell him why.

Yet he did not prod her for a reason, even when she would press her ear to his chest whenever they lay down on the gentle inclines by Lloyd’s home. Even without her feeble excuses, he had come to accept this strange habit of hers. And in the quiet moments after a long day, he would open his arms to her and she would snuggle close, keeping pace under her breath.

1, 2, 3, 4…

70 beats a minute, just as Professor Raine had explained once in science class.

And as she listened to that soothing rhythm that could calm the storm of hidden emotions that raged within her, she knew that her own rhythm was syncing with his. Lulling her into a peaceful safety, where nothing could hurt her.

He was one of the lives that she had born to save. A life that would flourish so long as she gave hers up.

Surely, it would be worth it.

~~~

“Colette?”

Lloyd turned at the sound of her footsteps against the rough rock of the mountains, deafeningly loud to her ears. Above him, the moon hung high in the sky, not a single cloud present to stop its light from washing the shabby roofs of Hima in liquid silver. Beside it, the Tower of Salvation rose into the heavens.

Averting her gaze from the sight and trying her best to suppress the shudder that ran down her spine, she took the hand Lloyd had instinctually offered, heart clenching at the worry swimming in his gaze.

Can… I… She traced the words on his palm with care, biting her lip.

Before she could even finish the sentence, he had pulled her close, letting his chin come to rest atop her head. It was a position they’d been in countless times before, yet the knowledge that this would be the last time she would ever know his embrace hung over her head, grief threatening to tear her fragile heart apart. Turning her head to rest her cheek against him, she closed her eyes, letting that familiar rhythm drown out all else.

She could almost pretend they were back in Iselia, the Journey of Regeneration but a far-away thought as they drifted off to sleep on grassy knolls, dirt staining their clothes from the unfortunate tumble they’d taken when she’d tripped over empty air again.

1, 2, 3, 4…

“Of course you can,” he whispered, running a gentle hand through her hair before his arm fell limp to his side. She pretended not to notice the way his other arm trembled as it tightened around her, nor the guilt that coloured his voice. “You always can.”

She let out a soft huff of air, writing on his arm before pulling back to observe his face.

It’s speeding up.

“Ah, um, that is -” he stuttered, red flooding his cheeks.

Nervous laughter filled the air as she did nothing but smile, drinking in the sight of him and trying her very best to memorise every feature. With the moonlight illuminating him from behind, he was so very beautiful - enough to make her tender heart ache around its splintering cracks.

If she still could, tears would burn her eyes at the realisation of all she would truly lose once dawn broke. She wanted nothing more than to take his hand and flee from this mountaintop, to run until she could no longer see the looming tower that would be her final resting place. But she couldn’t condemn him to a dying world. No matter what happened, he had to live.

And so she said nothing at all.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered into her hair.

She stopped breathing for a split second, before she caught herself, remembering to give nothing away. Rising on her toes, she brushed her lips against his still-flushed cheeks, forming he would never hear.

I’m sorry.

~~~

Kneeling at the altar in the Tower of Salvation, head bowed, an abject terror gripping every part of her as she prepared to give all of herself away, she thought she could hear a heartbeat. A faint one, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Perhaps it was just the sound of her own frantic heart, desperate to escape her fate. But some part of her clung to the idea that it was the world’s pulse, weak but still struggling to continue - the last, enduring breath of a slumbering Goddess. And as it echoed on, the panic gradually cleared from her mind, Remiel’s words washing over her. Her duty had been made clear to her since she was young, and it had come time to perform it.

Her heart would die, in a certain sense. Yet it would continue beating, long after her soul was dead, becoming a part of the very world itself. And so, she was certain, all the love held within it would remain. The love for this world, for its people, for Lloyd… And thus, with a wobbly smile on her face, she said goodbye and released the final seal, knowing her love would survive her. It would never die.

It would protect this world, long after she no longer could, in the form of a Goddess who would take her place, surrounding Sylvarant with her warm embrace and breathing life into its dying form.

So long as Lloyd could live… That was enough.

Thank you, for bringing joy to my days, and for teaching me what it means to have been glad to have lived.

#fanfiction #tales of symphonia #colette brunel #colloyd #ack i realised the last part is a bit off canonically oops #but oh well #one shot

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netherworldpost · 2 years

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This is not a request for aid, this is a screenshot of a blog draft in progress.

I'm drafting a blog post about physical newsletters to augment social media for creators and small shops. NOT as in "social media sucks, we're dying, the new ways are trash"

PURELY in "social media is rapidly changing, we need to look at the old ways and see what would be useful."

Anyway. Moving away from sense-making and returning to the point of this post. Which is an emotional ramble.

I can remember the exact moment I wanted to make things and sell them. Or at least an extremely early moment, maybe not the actual first, but one of the first.

I'm dating myself here, but America Online wouldn't take the country by storm for years. I'm a kid -- 8? 10? 12, maybe? at the time.

I'm at a Renaissance Fair, it's blazing hot, I've just watched the bards put on a play, they are playing a small hand drum while a hat is passed around and the adults around me are dropping in a few coins, some a few bills. We are in the shade, this park has been chosen because it has a huge variety of trees, and the stage has been set up in a choice spot.

Towards the front of the "castle" gates, to the left. I remember it so clearly, you walk up to the gates, you buy a ticket, you turn right and there are mead, soda pop, turkey leg, fairy floss (cotton candy) stalls. In front of you are pewter jewelry carts.

To the left is the troubadour stage.

This isn't the first year I've been to the fair, or it is, but it's not my first day. I remember saving a few dollars specifically to drop in the hat, it wasn't the first time I'd seen the show, but it was the first time I'd have cash to tip them.

I'm sitting there on a stool made from a cut log. Watching these adults cavort on stage, tell bawdy jokes I barely understand, wearing OUTRAGEOUS costumes.

I didn't know life could be this fun. This is an entirely new experience for me, at the time, and it completely changed my life. It was one of the early nudges that lead me to where I am today.

I'm getting. Ridiculously emotional. And I've got way too much work to do tonight to get this distracted.

I have been making things and putting them online for many, many years. The enchantment never fades. It never ebbs. It never decreases.

The blog post in question will go up in April 2023. I'm losing track of the point of this post, if I go back and review it, I'll be Remembering Things all night and not Editing Blog Posts, please forgive me for repeating myself and getting lost.

You'll have to do your own research, make your own decisions, but maybe I can help get you started.

I have a thick career in advertising and marketing for small business. One of the ways I want to give back is to pepper the world with "this is how all of this works. If you want to pursue it as a primary job, as a second job, as an experiment, and/or as a hobby, here are some top level notes to start your idea."

You'll have to do your own research, make your own decisions based on your own goals + resources, but maybe I can help get you started with some general ramblings.

When I first started, a million years ago, I felt like I was pulling off a caper. The world's greatest crime. I feel like I am operating underground and The Boring Life Police are searching for me but I'm too fast, too slick, to get caught.

In the years all of this was a hobby, I felt that way.

In the years all of this has been a job, it has felt that way.

Okay. Enough words. Time for coffee and editing.

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stormxpadme · 11 months

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Whumptober 2023 No. 19 - Floral Bouquet

Scogan Bingo challenge Poppy (Red) - Pleasure

The damn flowers should have been the first sign that today wouldn’t be going as expected, in hindsight.

Scott had everything planned out – of course, he did, organizing came as naturally as breathing to him and obsession was his second name. He'd arduously preached himself patience for the perfect date though he'd been sure for a few months already that he was going to ask Jean. The ring, she'd basically chosen herself, pointing it out in a shop window on a grocery run a couple of weeks ago. He'd roped in Hank to cancel one of the lectures for the current further training Jean was undergoing together with her old friend so that she could sleep in, and Jubilee was happy to help him out with breakfast because Scott simply sucked in the kitchen. Actually, nothing about this could go wrong. Yet as the sun started to come up, something Scott had not even needed to set an alarm for because he'd been too damn nervous to fall asleep all night, he saw with dismay a message on his cell phone telling him, the flowers wouldn’t be here in time. He'd placed the damn order two months ago; this was outrageous. Sure, it was Valentine's Day and car accidents happened; he wouldn’t be that asshole, writing the company a shitty Google review but … This was bad news, this was really bad news. With a curse, as silently as possible, he writhed his way out of bed, for once relieved that Jean hadn’t really been the cuddly type since her and his rebirth after that whole Phoenix drama, because of recurring nightmares on both sides. Meaning, he somehow managed not to wake her. With what was all but lighting speed, he reached for the next best pair of pants and shirt and raced into Ororo's garden behind the house, hoping his friend wouldn’t take his head off with the help of her morning teacup, for stealing a few of her precious flowers. He almost – almost – made it back to the teacher floor in time.

Except when he just wanted to step into the elevator, one of the little ones came up running behind him for a daybreak hug, and thanks to only just recently growing paws instead of hands and feet, the girl's balance was terribly off at the moment. So she promptly stumbled and fell, bruising her knee on the coarse carpet.

Until Scott was finished comforting the little one and came up with a Spider-Man band-aid from some First Aid Kid nearby to dry the last tears, the sun was already bright in the sky, classes were about to start, and his mood was threatening to drop below zero. If he was unlucky, Jean would already have left their apartment for some workout or one of those meditation sessions Charles and Emma had ordered her after that whole possession catastrophe … Scott sighed a breath of relief when he came all but running back to their door and saw the food tray Jubilee had prepared for him still standing right outside the door. Which meant, unless Jean had taken the window for some telekinesis training, he hadn’t fucked up yet. Balancing a whole board full of coffee mugs and plates filled to the brim with all of his girlfriend's favorites, like salmon sandwiches, strawberries, and chocolate croissants, still being quiet was a mission lost though.

Luckily, Jean still looked sufficiently sleepy when he carried that thing towards the bed, blinking at him with a yawn and a surprised smile that he'd very much come to miss since that catastrophe of her demon that had not only almost ripped them both from their lives but damn near set the whole world on fire. "To what do I owe that effort?" Brushing her adorably messy red tresses from her face, Jean sat up to take a closer look at that tray, only now spotting the hastily-picked flowers placed on its side. A confused look at the calendar on the wall finally had her eyes go wide, a chuckle breaking from her lips. "When did you start being a romantic?"

Huh. So the occasional anniversary gift, mixtapes for common training, cute sticky notes on Jean's scientific papers, or city sightseeing trip together in the course of some missions weren’t enough in terms of attention. Well, there was always room for improvement. "A guy can learn. Besides …" With the whole proposal-at-sunrise-script already ruined anyway, Scott decided to waste no more time. Putting the tray down carefully over Jean's half-naked legs, he knelt down next to the bed, feeling himself blush, his hands slightly shaking as he reached for the snow-white box he'd just barely remembered to store in his shirt pocket before storming out. "I thought maybe we should be doing Valentine's properly this year …" All those lengthy words, put down on a dozen drafts and all blasted to pieces because none of them seemed to do it justice, how important that woman was to him and how happy he was that he'd been given this new chance of a life together with her … All of that weighty reminiscing, declarations of affection and promises were suddenly nothing but a blank page in Scott's head when the color drained from Jean's face as her gaze fell on the ring.

Indeed, she promptly almost dropped the coffee cup she'd already reached for. Had he read it that wrong how much she'd held on to him since they'd returned to life? Maybe she just wasn’t that far yet in her readjustment to life, just like Emma had warned Scott. Maybe her mind wasn’t stable enough yet for big decisions, for changes in her life …

The last thing he should be doing was putting pressure on her, making her feel like he wouldn’t wait patiently for her to really commit to stuff like formalities and planning their own little family together, forever if he had to … It must be showing in his face that he was rapidly contemplating all the excuses he could come up with to put that ring right back where it belonged, play it all down, acting like this wasn’t what it looked like at all, just to not make things awkward between them.

Before he could pull his hand with that box away, Jean gently held it tight with an invisible grip around his wrist. By now, Scott had somehow learned not to startle anymore at such of a touch of her power, in spite of having been at the lethal receiving end of it not too long ago. An enchanting smile chased such memories quickly away. "Well, come on then, say it. I know you've been dying to make that speech."

"How about we cut this short and you just say Yes?" Scott suggested, rubbing the back of his neck in growing panic because he still couldn’t remember for the life of him what he'd meant to say, and taking a look at said notes in his bedside drawer was obviously out of the question …

Smirking, Jean leaned across the tray for a brief, sweet kiss and then reached out her hand to him so that he could finally slip that ring on. Maybe that was all the answer needed already.

*****

As much as Scott would have loved to stay, with all those delays, he had no choice but to leave for his own morning duties. He only just made it to change into a workout shirt and shorts before the well-known sound of an adamantium-steeled fist almost knocked their apartment door from its hinges. "Coming!" Scott rolled his eyes behind his glasses and quickly gave Jean another kiss before all but floating outside, his half-empty coffee mug on his lips. "It's five to eight, Claws. No need to get impatient."

"I'm not." Logan shrugged, never horribly verbal before his third coffee, and hurried ahead to the stairs toward the cellar. "Just thought you could use a distraction, so wanted to make sure you don't forget that sparring session."

"Distraction …?" Scott tilted his head at his teammate questioningly, only now realizing Logan was looking back and forth between him and the closed apartment door as if he knew something about what had been planned there this morning.

"Heard ya order the flowers in the control room a couple of weeks ago." Logan shrugged, apparently not ashamed about eavesdropping. "Just figured, you might need a bit of battle adrenaline if she …"

"She didn’t." Scott was quick to allow that grin back on his lips when he finally got what his friend was thinking.

Of course, he was. After all, Logan and he were the persons who'd been closest to Jean after her resurrection, and Logan had played an important part in putting Jean's soul into balance before taking a step back which Scott was still very grateful for. It was only natural for him to be skeptical, probably.

Even when there was no more need to. "It's all good, she said yes."

"Huh. That's great, bub." The surprise in Logan's narrow hazel eyes almost felt insulting, but then there was a smile on his lips that looked like it was sincere. Logan even went as far as pulling Scott in a quick half-hug which was arguably the most one could expect from someone emotionally so constipated in terms of an enthusiastic reaction. And also the closest they'd been outside of training ever since calling this whole weird, interesting but ultimately just too unconventional thing between the three of them off two months ago.

Scott found with a hint of patient resignation that the so very distinctive scent of a good stiff drink and half-smoked cigars always surrounding Logan's stocky shape still didn’t leave his hormones entirely cold. Nothing that counted any longer though. "You're gonna be my best man, right?"

"I wouldn’t dream of it," Logan replied brusquely to his disappointment before carrying on to the elevator as if nothing had happened, punching the button that would get the cabin straight to the Danger Room. "I plan to spend that day as far away as possible from this house."

His stomach suddenly in an even worse knot than before the proposal, Scott waited until the door had closed and there weren’t any possible listeners nearby to a conversation he'd hoped he'd never have to have again. It hadn’t been exactly a secret what had gone down between the three of them after the Phoenix crises, but neither Logan nor he were keen on having their love life plastered all over the blackboard. Especially when there was apparently another episode of that unworthy soap opera in the making. "I thought you said, you no longer wanted to be part of us."

"I don't," Logan said calmly, with so much sobriety in his gravelly voice that Scott decided to believe, that subject was indeed closed for good. Not least because he was determined not to let it destroy this wonderful day.

****

They had a good spar after that, strengthening their partnership in the field in a bloody but successful simulation against Sabretooth and Mystique at Magneto's old headquarters on Genosha. Scott was even successful, not glancing to the neighboring shower stall a single time when they brushed off sweat, a few shallow cuts and abrasions, and the last of battle adrenaline afterward. After today, such annoying, childish desires for something no longer relevant in his life should be a thing of the past for good. It had been fun while it had lasted, sure, but in the end, he'd always been Jean's, and Logan had seemed honest about being good on his own just as well. Neither their plans for life nor their temper were even close to being a good match, so whatever attraction might occasionally still be simmering between the three of them, with time, it would surely fade. Scott would turn his full concentration to the woman he was in love with henceforth, and thinking about it … For someone he was now engaged to, he'd not seen said beautiful redhead for far too long … Sadly, teaching days at Mutant High always meant a packed schedule, so Scott hadn’t even really finished the thought yet that he could stop by in the sick bay where Hank and Jean were working on Jean's ambitious current science project for her studies before Jubilee caught Logan and him off outside the Danger Room.

"Professor Summers? Do you have a minute for tutoring before math classes start? Me and statistics aren’t gonna be friends anytime soon." The girl rolled her pretty almond eyes at her admittedly really quite lousy last test results in her hand. The teenager was apparently so busy with her worries about the upcoming finals that she'd already entirely forgotten again what she'd been paid some extra allowance this morning for.

"Sure, let's find an empty desk." Scott said goodbye to Logan with a quick nod and went ahead to the elevator, throwing Jubilee a broad grin. "Breakfast was delicious by the way. I'd say that swayed the odds in the right direction."

"She said yes?" Jubilee sounded as if Scott had just asked her to hold the upcoming class for him but quickly lightened up when Scott couldn’t quite hide an offended grimace on his lips for the second time within an hour. "I mean, of course, she said yes, how could she not, with all the preparations? You and I make a great team. And don't you forget that when the next negotiations about free spots on your team come up, Professor Summers." Jubilee's smile looked almost a little too bright and enthusiastic now, but Scott decided, when it came to such a wonderful subject, maybe that wasn’t even possible.

There wasn’t a lot of time to dwell on his confusion anyway because some teenagers in this house and math, that was worlds colliding, and they were short on time, as usual.

****

"Aren't we waiting for Jean?" Scott interrupted Ororo before she'd done more than take a breath to start the weekly teachers meeting. So far, he'd been waiting for the spot on the sofa next to him in Charles' office in vain, but it wasn’t exactly unusual for his girlfriend to be late, especially when she was immersed in her test tubes and files together with Hank.

"Uh, I didn’t send her an invitation this time." Ororo gave him a look from over her notepad that Scott didn’t see for the first time today, and that was really starting to get on his nerves. She apparently didn’t notice the way Logan was more or less inconspicuously signaling her from the other side of the room to shut it, while Charles over there at his desk looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here right now. "There's nothing we need to talk about with regard to her subjects, and I thought, maybe you two could use a few hours apart after … uh …"

"After what?" Scott snapped at her, harsher than he should but what every person in here seemed to think about his relationship was quickly becoming depressing. Maybe that was what just happened when the last attempt at said relationship had ended with the woman in question tearing you into neat little particles unwillingly. Which was exactly why he wanted to get the damn ceremony planned as quickly as possible now, so people would finally realize, Jean and he were just fine. "Since gossip already seems to be spreading in the halls, maybe you should be listening better, 'Ro. She said yes, and we already got plans for the appointment. It's heartwarming to see how much faith you all have in us."

Ororo held up her hand in surrender, visibly feeling bad for the slip-up, a brief white shadow over her dark pupils, a strong gust of wind outside revealing she was upset. "I'm sorry, Scott. I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought, maybe she wasn’t ready yet, you know?"

"Well, she was." Still grumbling a little, Scott turned to his notes for the conference but found he couldn’t quite follow the conversation quickly ensuing. His thoughts were with the scene in the morning, with that brief look almost of terror on Jean's face, with the many whispers he'd heard behind his back in the course of the morning, and few of them had seemed exuberant.

Had he made a mistake? Was it too early to ask Jean to act like she hadn’t almost torn the universe apart like she wasn’t still in weekly therapy and having mental sessions with Charles and Emma to make sure her soul was now protected from that damn demon? Of course, his lover had a lot to deal with, of course, she would always have to fight, especially people's prejudices against her person and to keep control over her now so powerful gifts …

But shouldn’t it be Scott's job as her partner, supporting her in that, being there for her as much as he could instead of walking on eggshells around her all the time and often allowing their relationship to be on the back burner just to go easy on Jean? Suddenly he was filled with so much restlessness himself that he could hardly wait for the meeting to end and went straight back to his apartment instead for lunch afterward, not even quite sure exactly why. The excuse to drop the damn flowers there that had finally been delivered by now was as good a reason as any to sit down and think for a moment why nothing really worked the way it should on this day that should have been such a happy one … And then he walked inside the bedroom door and finally, finally got it.

Jean looked up with a startle from the two suitcases she was busy packing, obviously not having expected him. Immediately, she went pale again, her lower lip quivering as her cheeks flushed. "Scott …"

"Really. Really, Jean?" Much too dumbfounded to even become angry, Scott dropped on the bedroom bench, that stupid bouquet still in his hands, and tried to find anything to say in vain, something angry, something hateful maybe even. The worst about all this, maybe, was that he couldn’t even be surprised. Jesus, how blind had he been in the last few months?

"I tried, Scott. I did." Jean quickly came around the bed, sitting down on the floor in front of him to try and catch his gaze, but somehow, she'd forgotten how to do that through the obstacle of his glasses since her rebirth. "It's not that I don’t care about you, you know that. But I'm not good for a relationship with anyone right now, and I didn’t realize that this morning."

"Shouldn’t you let me decide that? If I can't deal with it or not?" he asked, with numb lips, not hoping to convince her even … He just wanted answers. "Why run immediately? We can work this out, Jean. I'll be there for you. If I went too fast with this whole thing, that's not a problem. We can wait …"

"You don’t understand. You know what I did after you left?" Jean stared down at her hands dully as if the glistening of a certain piece of jewelry there made her uncomfortable. "I called Emma. But not to tell her that now she'll definitely never have a chance with you again but to ask for an emergency session tonight. Just because for a second, I could swear I heard Phoenix laugh in the back of my head when you came in here with those flowers. I can't do this, Scott." Jean closed her hands gently around his face, and ever since dying by Alkali Lake, he'd never felt so much like shying away from her. "You did nothing wrong. Anyone should fall on their knees and pray to have someone like you as their partner. That's exactly why I won't be an obstacle in your life any longer. I can't give you what you deserve, and I'm not sure that's ever gonna change. I need to be my own person first and foremost before I can share this new life of mine with anyone. And I don't want you to wait for something that might never happen." After a last sad glance down on her finger, she pulled her ring off and thrust it into his hand. His was shaking. Hers wasn’t. "Sell that thing and buy a couple of rounds for Logan and you in your favorite joint. I got a feeling, he's waiting outside already."

"Guess I'll leave you to it then." Scott pushed himself up again, still far too alienated even for reproaches, no matter how justified they might have been. Useless, and apparently it had been so from the start, no matter what he could have tried. At least about that, he wanted to be sure. "Did you ever mean it? When we woke up inside those clones back then and you said you wanted to give us another shot? When you said yes today?"

"I wanted it more than anything when we started over back then." Jean swallowed hard, wiping her reddened eyes with the back of her hand. "But all that goodwill and wishful thinking wasn’t enough. The moment I accepted that ring this morning, Scott … I guess I already knew that I didn’t want that attempt to fail either. Do you really want a girl who's fearing a divorce already before you've even tied the knot?"

Scott didn’t.

*****

Logan was already waiting in the hallway, and for some reason, that made Scott far more pissed than no longer having the girl he'd been with ever since turning 18.

Because if there was one thing Logan's rugged face was not showing when he saw Scott step outside that door with that huge, expensive bouquet in his hand, it was surprise. Instead, he just thrust a cigar into Scott's hand uncompromisingly, took him by the elbow almost gently, and led him straight to Logan's apartment at the end of the floor, locking the door behind them. That was apparently it with any kind of duty for today. "Charles and Ororo know. They'll do your classes."

"So that, you all can believe, huh? That she dumps my stupid ass on Valentine's, that seems perfectly normal to you." With a bitter laugh, Scott dropped down on Logan's sofa, just throwing those damn flowers somewhere on the ground. That money, he really should have spent on a good bottle instead.

"I'm a feral, Slim," Logan reminded him, still conspicuously softly, already busy with some whiskey and glasses, judging by the clanking and rummaging from his kitchen corner. "My amnesia rendered my instincts worth shit back then and I'm still relearning how to read the world around me right. But sometimes I get a hunch from what I can sense in people, and those are usually not that far off."

"A hunch." Scott only too gladly reached for the drink he was offered though he felt sick already. "You're telling me I'm sitting here with a hole the size of Texas in my heart because half the people in this house had a hunch that Jean long stopped wanting me but no one bothered to tell me."

"They probably hoped for the best, just like I did." Logan took the spot next to him, so close that when the sofa dipped under his weight, their legs touched in a maybe not coincidental gesture of comfort that Scott couldn’t bring himself to pull away from. "People in this house love you a lot, you know. Should have noticed that when they moved literally heavens and earth to bring you back at the time. Would've been a beautiful story, you and Jeannie." Logan knocked back his own drink in one go without batting a lid, a hint of bitterness and never-forgotten longing in his drooping shoulders, his weary voice. "But with what she is now? Don't think that's gonna happen, Slim. Wish I had better news for ya, believe me."

"Just give them to me sooner next time," Scott hissed, only his voice lacked a lot of energy, and the alcohol tasted stale in his mouth. When Logan wrapped his arm around his waist in another unexpected close gesture, he could finally allow the tears to fall.

*****

Scott wasn’t sure for how long he'd been drowning Logan's sweater in salt water but it was dark outside by the time, he fell asleep for a few badly needed minutes of rest on that damn sofa that was actually far too short for his exaggerated height. He awoke with a grimace and back pain promptly, but also to the delicious smell of pasta from that kitchen corner. He was surprised to feel he was actually hungry. "You seriously cooking for me right now? That bad conscience really kicking, huh?"

"Got none. And I was hungry." Unfazed, Logan handed him a plate filled to the brim with the empty carb kind of spaghetti, far too much cheese, and enough ball peppers to burn his mouth out, probably. It was the best goddamn thing Scott had eaten in months.

After Logan had also coaxed a whole bottle of the healthier stuff into him while they were eating, over only the sound of some baseball rerun on the TV, Scott didn’t feel that off anymore. He had no plans of returning to his apartment as he usually would have at this time though, knowing he'd been greeted by a half-empty cabinet and missing pictures on the walls. As he put down his plate to the ground – one of these fine days he'd buy Logan a damn coffee table, he thought dully – his sight fell on that heap of leaves and glitter and petals on the carpet. Not even sure why, he picked it up, with tight lips, ripping off the greeting card still attached to the cord. A weak grin on his lips, he held it out when he heard the very well-known snikt of an extending claw next to him and watched the paper tear to pieces on an adamantium tip. It was strangely satisfying. "That arrangement got a nice color at least? I'd hate to have wasted a whole night shift bonus on an ugly non-engagement gift."

Logan made a non-committed grunt in the back of his throat, maybe just glad Scott was no longer crying his eyes out on his shoulder. After Alkali Lake, and now this, that should have been the last time this happened over the same damn woman. "Almost the shade of your glasses. Bet the designer wanted to bone you. Let me see that." Logan fished for the inscription card still attached to the flowers' cord whereupon Scott's and his hand briefly touched which had them both startle, now that the instinctive, amicable closeness from earlier had faded. For once it was Logan, scooting away with a look on his face Scott couldn’t quite place, a snort on his lips when he read the information card. "Told ya. It's poppies. This says their color stands for pleasure. Guess they thought you had big plans with your girl tonight."

Scott's embarrassed chuckle turned into a far more cynical sound halfway. "Yeah, well, no such luck. We didn’t make it past holding hands since you no longer came by. She said she didn’t trust her mind enough yet," he tiredly added when Logan made a surprise noise. "Because of Phoenix. You know how jealous that cosmic bitch was … is, whatever. She offed me at the time because she wanted to have Jean on her own. With you in the room with us, she felt safe, she said, but …" Scott lifted his shoulders in exhaustion, no longer sure he even wanted to think about if all those explanations for the lack of intimacy between Jean and him lately had in fact not rather been excuses. "Let's be real, Jean stopped physically being into me the day she saw you shirtless for the first time. I tried what I could but …"

"That's the problem, Slim, you tried and tried and forgot to look out for yourself. Always told you, you're too damn good for this world." Logan threw the ruined bouquet somewhere behind them and turned to his side on the sofa, propping his legs up on Scott's as if he had a right, a half-opened bottle in his hand that he stared at so intently as if the answers to all questions that had never been quite solved between them, could be found at the bottom. "You know why I didn’t tell you when I realized what was up with Jean? Or why I quit you? Please don't tell me you bought it that I didn’t want you anymore. Come on, you're smarter than that. You're seeing sharper than that, poppy glasses or not." When Scott still just stared at him quizzically, Logan let out a deep sigh and reached for his hand with his free one without much ado, and Scott did no longer have it in him to wonder why he didn’t pull away. "Every time we did this thing … whatever it was, the three of us … I can't remember you enjoying yourself a single time. You were all about her. When I tried to make it good for you, you always sent me back to her. You spent so much time since she came back making sure she was alright that I was beginning to think, that was what you needed. That this was what made you happy. I just wanted you to be fine after what happened with Phoenix, because you deserve that. Thought you two could manage that better when I'd be out of the picture. Should have known that only meant, there was no one to care about you left at all. That's what I feel shitty about. Not that you're finally free of someone who never deserved you."

Only now Scott's hand did something, trying to tug away from that tight grasp, surely … It was surely only some accident that instead, he let himself be pulled down on that damn sofa, halfway onto Logan's broader, muscular shape … It was also definitely only that too spicy food burning under his skin suddenly, not the vague question flashing through his mind if Logan's lips would still feel the same. And what it would be like, actually giving in to the wish of experiencing all that this man had wanted to do to him back then already but for which there somehow, never really had been time. "You realize I've only just been left alone, right?" he murmured half-heartedly, inches away from those broad, tempting lips. A last bit of resistance at least to that damn attraction between them that had never gone away even after calling their poly constellation quit. Maybe, Scott finally had the answer why. He just wasn’t sure he could let it into his heart yet, not after that clusterfuck that had been this Valentine's. "You deserve better than me throwing myself mindlessly into the next adventure just to numb the pain, in case what we have is not enough."

Logan shrugged, in that unimpressed half-sided way that Scott only could believe from this man was actually sincere. "I'm used to pain. And I ain't saying I do anytime soon, just so we're clear, so no harm in fooling around for a while, Slim. As long as you don't wake me up with breakfast a year from now, we'll be just fine."

"Oh no, never would," Scott deadpanned, just to annoy Logan a little because he was pretty sure if he allowed the guy to kiss him now, he'd be naked within 10 seconds. "I hate repeat performances. For you, I'll save the serenade and serving you donuts on my dick."

Logan didn’t even flinch – someone was in head over heels, definitely. Reaching between them unblinking, he drew a strangled moan from Scott's lips, pawing at the quickly growing bulge at the front of his jeans. "Think I can eat that up just fine without any chocolate or sugar." Before Scott had decided if that was a threat or a promise, Logan kissed him, finally, letting go of him to his disappointment in favor of wrapping both arms around his hips, pulling Scott fully on top of him, a combination of a longing sigh and a turned-on growl vibrating against his lips.

It wasn’t too comfortable because of their height difference and that damn sofa still being far too short and yet Scott didn’t want to miss a single second of that hungry touch of a greedy tongue slipping into his mouth, or those large hands slipping under his shirt, slowly rubbing up and down his back, keeping him close in this long-missed embrace so that he couldn’t even try and give some of those patient caresses back. That wasn’t what this was about, he quickly realized when they ended up in Logan's bed soon, both half naked, panting in growing excitement. They'd never done this in here before but with that well-known, earthy smell suddenly all around Scott, crumbled sheets instead of the impeccable tidiness of his own place, a couple of empty bottles on the nightstand being a proof of the inner demons his old-new lover, too, was always battling … There was suddenly no place he rather wanted to be. Maybe it didn’t even matter much if this would be temporary or not if they would ever be anything close to what he'd once hoped he'd become with Jean. Maybe all that counted was how much he suddenly felt wanted. Scott couldn’t remember when he'd buried his hand in Logan's thick, wild hair for purchase but whenever he tried to let go, to at least peel that guy out of his shirt, Logan did something especially wicked with his tongue where it was busy, following every ridge and line of Scott's quickly heaving chest, and he forgot about it again.

From the couple of rather sober touches in their bed of three at the time, he expected roughness, maybe some of those kinks Jean, in particular, had been into, and maybe they'd get back to exploring those at some point … But for now, Logan seemed entirely satisfied with driving Scott crazy with his slow licks and kisses, just an occasional harder tug on his nipples when he came back up for more of those deep kisses again and again. It was only then that Scott could feel his lover be just as turned on, thick hardness grinding into his own under those tight jeans, but whenever he tried to sneak his hand between them to get at least a button or a zipper open there, it was caught in a firm grasp and pushed back under some pillow without Scott having to feel restrained in a way he wasn’t sure he could have handled, not yet.

Only when he thought, he couldn’t take that tension anymore, when he was arching up against Logan's stomach with every sharp nip to his oversensitive nipples, every strong, massaging caress up and down his willingly spread thighs … Only now, that skilled mouth finally went lower on his body, the open halves of his pants pulled aside, his briefs out of the way just as quickly before velvety hotness wrapped around the head of this cock. Scott instinctively took a hand in front of his mouth to stifle a groan that he didn’t want to make it past the thin walls on this floor to certain neighboring apartments. His hands were still smelling of those damn flowers, one of the oval petals caught in those stupid cufflinks he'd put on this morning for the special day. He didn’t think he would be wearing cufflinks again anytime soon but at that moment, he really did start warming up to the sweet intensity of a certain flower the same color that he was forced to see the world in most of the time, in that first real night together with someone he'd never thought was even really interested in him. Someone who almost made him come into his damn pants with just his lips and tongue. The flower of pleasure indeed. Scott plucked the petal from his sleeve with a smile and used it to tickle Logan's neck, grinning when his lover scrunched his nose at him. No, neither of them would become a real romantic anytime soon, and seeing where the Eiffel tower, love letters, and flowers had gotten Scott last, that was probably for the best. But what they did share … Scott actually wanted to share that, indeed. One-sided, he'd had long enough. "Let me touch you? Please?"

Logan shuddered in a way at that one last word that had Scott suspect, maybe it wouldn’t even take that long before they'd be back to a little power pay and submission in bed, from time to time. "Jesus, Slim, how anyone can let your hot ass walk away from them is beyond me. Second round is all yours, don't worry. Right now, I just …" Lowering his head again, without letting go of Scott's gaze, he slowly circled the head of Scott's cock, licking off a few thick drops of white, with a hum of enjoyment as Scott bucked up and groaned against his palm again. "I want to make you scream so loudly, no one's gonna need telepathy to hear. Hold still."

It came too softly to be an order but Scott followed it gladly anyway when Logan thrust his head down onto him once more, sucking him in inch by inch until his lips were flushed with Scott's body and the pure strength of his throat muscles swallowing all around him almost made Scott come on the spot. With a curious, gentle fingertip slipping between his ass cheeks on top, slippery enough from saliva and precum, the next assault of that kind was sure to break his last restraint. When Scott squeezed his eyes shut with Logan's name on his lips as he emptied himself down his lover's throat only seconds later, he could still see nothing but poppy red, and for once, it was not his mutation to blame.

*******************************************************************************

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