#a dream that writes itself in red fr fr fr

[leclerrari]

IL PREDESTINATO celebrates his first podium of the season with his team at Jeddah Corniche Circuit on March 9, 2024 (Photo by Scuderia Ferrari)

[boredgirl2004]

Part 2 of Day 2: The book

As I said the words aloud, nothing had happened, I was relieved but also a bit angry. The nightmare that scared every loving ⬧︎♒︎♓︎⧫︎ out of me, that asked me to open this stupid book and to find that nothing came of it?!!! I was angry that my mind was playing tricks on me, so I took my hand off the page and reached the book cover so I could close it. 

“What a waste of time!! First, the stupid dream asks me to open the book. I finally give in and open it only for there to be a warning from a guy who I don’t even know and instructions to summon whatever this ring is only for it to not do any-” I was immediately cut off from my hand being sucked back to the bloody handprint, the handprint, and red words emitted a bloody bright red glow, I left my blood being sucked out of my fingertips, I the pages in the book turning, they were quickly changing, from a burnt bloody page to a much cleaner and whiter one, immediately words began to appear, in all caps said the word “HAHA” over and over and over on the two pages, I immediately grabbed one of my books I had bought from Barnes and noble, only to be in shock to see that it had the same font and same words as repeated in the book of the bill. It was like those computer glitches, where the code would just repeat itself over and over after the system was hacked. Everything in the room began to shake until it began to float. Finally, one page of the book had the triangle figure appear, it pressed itself onto the page until it burst through. As it did, everything in my room slowly began to be set down. It began to speak.

“Well, well, well! Here we are at last!!! I’ve been waiting an ETERNITY to meet you, and I know you’ve been waiting nearly as long to meet me!!” I stood there in shock that the book or thing or whatever this was was talking to me! This couldn’t be real, it can’t be and how could it be?!

“Breath it in a second pal-this moment of anticipation! You always suspected this day would come, and it finally has! Your life will forever be divided into two halves: before you met me and AFTER. Welcome to the after!” It continued as I looked at it and began to stutter, trying to find my words. I didn’t know what to say about this situation as a whole! I wasn’t sure how to react. This was all confusing and shocking. I knew Stanford, the man who warned me to not turn the page said to not believe a thing this book says but I didn’t know it would be this weird!!! 

The thing talked over me while my brain was crashing, trying to find something, some word to say about all of this. “You’re probably wondering, “Bill, you’re an all-powerful being. Why write a book, huh? Why let me read it? Also, aren’t you dead? Are you dead or what? What’s the deal?” I have no idea what you mean…”  the page had turned on its own to reveal a dark silhouette of the triangle being. Its eye is emitting a glitchy, yellow and red hue as its mouth opens to reveal its crooked teeth (Bill needs to see a dentist fr fr) 

“I’m….p e r f e c t l y…..f I n e”

Before I could finally speak and probably ask my question since from his tone, it seemed like whatever happened last time didn’t go so well. I was rudely interrupted yet again. 

“In fact, I'm better than fine, because might feel silo And there's a lot we can do together! Oh, you might feel silly about "meeting" me. After all, "Bill Cipher" is imaginary. You're real and I'm not, right?

BUT ARE YOU SO SURE ABOUT THAT?

After all, you're mortal. One day, you'll be dust. But I'm an idea. And an idea can't be killed. So that's me 1, you o on the immortality front! And if I'm the eternal one and you're the temporary one, THEN IT MIGHT BE WISE FOR YOU TO GET ON THE WINNING SIDE EARLY, YOU DIG?

I know that drama queen Sixer warned you not to read this book, didn't he? Maybe the old nerd is right! Weak minds have gone crazy from just ONE glimpse at my TANTALIZING FORBIDDEN SECRETS! (Sees the hickory-smoked crater where

McGucket's brain used to be!)

But if you're as sharp as I think you are ... and if you're curious about the meaning of life, how to cheat death, Pine Tree's most embarrassing dreams, and your own interesting future, then I'll consider making a deal with you. How about a trade? I'll let you read my book in exchange for a favor down the line. We can work out the details later. What do you say?

TAKE BILL'S DEAD

YES?

TURN THE PAGE

No?

TURN TO PAGE 77”

I hesitated to turn the page, I slowly began to think about my choice. There were many cons to this, from what the guy wrote in the previous pages, he expressed how much meeting bill would be a regret for those who continue with turning the pages in this book; I don’t even know what Bill could do to me from just turning the pages in this book. What if I’m walking into a trap? What if there is more to this than what he’s letting on? What if-

“Ah, look at you, all tangled up in your own thoughts. Overthinking is such a waste of time! You’re so close to getting everything you desire, but you’re letting doubt hold you back. Come on, what’s the point of hesitation? Life’s too short for that kind of nonsense. Just turn the page, and I promise you—things will get a lot more interesting. And if you keep dithering, well, I might just start making decisions for you. So, what’s it gonna be? Ready to embrace a little chaos and get what you really want?” I looked down at the page to see Bill was in a sitting position, his leg crossed over the other and his expression expressed how bored and impatient he was from me thinking my choices. I was worried about how he could be speaking to me like this when he’s in  a book, this isn’t possible it just- isn’t-

 “Your hesitation is almost charming, but it’s getting a bit tiresome, don’t you think? Besides, if you’re worried about the logistics of me being here, maybe you should focus more on the opportunities I’m offering instead of waddling over what’s right. Overthinking won’t get you anywhere, dollface. So, why not stop doubting and start acting? The more you dawdle, the more interesting things will get when you finally make a choice.” He said with a mixture of smugness and amusement as he stared at me from the page. I sigh and remember my task. Find a way to destroy the book from the inside out, focus on not believing what he says, even if it’s too good, I kept repeating the same sentence in my head over and over as my confidence began building itself up as I reached the page. Still, I pause as I look at Bill and begin to speak. 

“If you’re are this bill-person that this guy Stanford Pines warned me about, how can I trust you despite the warnings in the previous pages he wrote before? What is something you could say that’ll convince me that I shouldn’t just close this book and leave it in my room, never to be opened again?” I waited for the bill's response, which didn’t take long, and had no thought. 

"Oh, come on now! Sixer was always so serious, wasn’t he? Just a big bundle of paranoia and charts. But listen to me: I’m not here to cause trouble—well, not just trouble. I’m here to offer you a chance for a bit of fun, a touch of excitement, and maybe a sprinkle of chaos. What’s life without a little unpredictability, right? Close the book and you miss out on all the cosmic shenanigans I have in store. Open it, and you might just find yourself in a whirlwind of adventure. I’m all about making things interesting and trust me, you don’t want to miss what comes next. So, are you in, or are you going to play it safe and dull? Your choice!" He said in a calming tone. 

It wasn’t enough to convince me. I sighed and began to speak once more but this time I was faking my boredom. “Not convincing enough. Well Bill, it was nice meeting you even though it didn’t last very long but hey, this is my imagination just like you said right?” I say as I slowly begin to close the book. Bill responded with a slight stutter but he quickly covered it up with his nonchalance, “Oh, come on now, don't be so hasty! You’re not going to shut me out, are you? I mean, who knows what you might be missing? I wouldn’t want you to close the book before you've had the chance to experience everything I have to offer. After all, isn’t that the fun part of imagination—exploring the unknown? Give it a little more time. What’s a little more curiosity going to hurt?” I paused, the book was nearly closed but I  slowly opened it back up. There was nothing but silence from both of us for a while until I turned the page. Bill's attitude changed immediately. 

“Right choice, bone sack! Welcome to the Book of…” The page was now a biblical book cover of the Book Of Bill, Bill continued “No, no! That won’t do! Do you call that a cover? What is this, amateur hour? I can do better than that!” As Bill stared at the cover, I replied “Well, I don’t see you as a professional, Maybe try something more….You?” I said a bit awkwardly. Bill looked at me nodded in agreement and turned his back to me as he snapped his fingers, the next page had turned by itself, revealing four different covers. The first had a realistic appearance, it was in the middle of a farm, a storm right above it, and the clouds emitted lighting that took the shape of Bill. “Too basic!” He snapped his fingers again to reveal a book that reminded me of those horror books of goosebumps made for kids back in the 80s, I think they also made a show about it but that was years ago. “Too nostalgic.” He snapped once more to reveal a cover that I would see here, too many Bibles that had Jesus or god descending from heaven and floated above the person praying to one of them. “Too preachy.” He said out of boredom as he snapped again. I could hear a saxophone playing sexy music, it revealed a buff Bill Cipher holding a woman, they were in a field, their hairs blowing in the wind. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the cover. “Too ravishing!” I wiped my tears and tried to control my laughter. 

“You think?” I said as I laughed once more as I wheezed out that Bill doesn’t even have hair or a human-like body. It looked so wrong to me but that’s what made it funny. Finally, Bill settled on a cover, It reminded me of someone on their computer trying to make the title and using as little effort to make it until they settled with Bill being tapped to the cover, misscapitalized and misspelled words, a tab saying “Good job Bill” with some emojis and a menu from right-clicking the picture. “There we go! Perfect! The crowd LOVES it!” I smiled and looked at him. “I bet they love it. It shows the author more than ever!” I say jokingly even though it was like a kid was in charge of making this cover. I see a bloody fingerprint at the right bottom corner of the page that says “Put thumb here”. The fingerprint had veins on the side of it causing me to be a bit concerned. “With that all out of the way, all this book needs is some ink! Hey, can I borrow some of your blood? Just press your thumb here, and I’ll absorb some right into the page! You won’t even notice it's gone!” I hesitated until I gained confidence and gently pressed my thumb on the bottom corner of the page, I felt a sharp pain on my thumb as if my thumb was being pricked and the blood was slowly leaving it. I tried to pull it off only for more blood to be sucked out of it. I kept trying to remove my thumb from the page, it was stuck there after a few pulls but after the fourth time, the book at finally let my thumb go.

Note: Hiiii, sorry for taking so long. Busy with life but anyway! I wanted to have Bill be more interactive so I tried my best trying to imitate the character the best I could.

[thatcutemanifestor]

10K AFFIRMATION SUCCESS STORY

I know I just made one update about the 10k challenge that I did 4872 I don't remember how much but yeah I did and now some days ago I deleted it 🤪.Whatever, so now I am sharing the success story guys...

The thing is that like every other challenge I did , I made a list of things for this challenge too. (Fr I don't know but I just naturally get so many desires developed when I manifest the previous ones).

So the list was-

• Getting the shoes which I saw on pinterest. Gosh I think they were my love at first sight.( I can give you pictures of my shoes if u want to see them)

• My percentage to be 98.6 as I just gave the mid-term exams at that time and results were near.

• A particular scenario to manifest. ( I wrote it in detail in my list, will not write here lol 🤪).

• One more trip from by school. (I remember telling you guys i manifested a trip by my school in a post)

• No homework for the whole week.(bcz we were already busy with plans for the trip and who 🤔 would like to do homework when you have the trip in mind).

• My vision board to manifest. ( I created a vision board just for this challenge and didn't thought of anything else and added food pictures😭 on it, lol but food is love)

• Mole right on my shoulder and on right wing of nose. ( they look so cute and pretty my friends complimented me for those, like they added it in everyday's compliments they give me)

• A cousin get-together ( cuz why not I love my cousins💓 and we have so much fun together)

•My aunt who lives in Australia to send me gifts ( I admit 🙂 it I love to be spoiled) .

• My dad's company's exports to be at the due time. (My dad's company just has to export the diamonds but he said it could be delayed so I manifested them to be exported on due date)

• My school to organise a meeting for periods information. ( like girls and boys who are in 6th or 5th grade need to know about periods and sanitation it's so important to get them educated about it and also that they are not ashamed to talk about periods, although my school used to organise this meeting every year but the meeting didn't occured in like 2 years now and i want my juniors to know about periods)

• Classes to be more fun ( like I want to enjoyyy more and more)

• Know how to bake red velvet chip cookies ( now I think these are my signature cookies, I am chef now guys😤, I can bake cookies😭)

• Free new laptop and watch

• That one guy to stop asking me out again and again. ( I am tired of telling him that we can be friends but no more but he is like I am not give up)

This is all I added on the list and named this list as mary's list. And my affirmation was 'Mary's list has manifested' . I just affirmed for like 5231 times and got all the results on the second day. I enjoyed this challenge a lot. Like it made me persist so much that the aff was engraved in my mind. Even when I was not repeating it was getting repeated at back of my head by itself. I think anyone doing this challenge should make a list it will be lot easier to affirm with it. Like you guys can write whole script for your life in a single list and affirm that the list had manifested and get the dream life of yours But the thing that will be the resistance is that you will read this post but not apply JUST FUCKING START DOING IT ALREADY.

~Yours cutie

💓

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

Murder in the Age of Enlightenment: Essential Stories

By Akutagawa Ryūnosuke, translated by Brian Karetnyk

"... having fallen as far as this, they had already been so wearied by the many tortures of Hell that they no longer had the strength to cry out." (The Spider's Thread)

"At any rate, if you want to rob a man of his woman, it's only natural that you're going to have to kill him. Only, when I do it, I do it with a sword. People like you don't use swords. You gentlemen kill with power, with money, sometimes with words alone - all on the pretence of doing a man a favour. True enough, no blood is shed. He might even live well. But you've killed him all the same. It's hard to say whose sin is greater - yours or mine. [An ironic smile]" (In a Grove)

"When it once pleased His Lordship to joke, 'You appear to take pleasure in all manner of unsightly things,' Yoshihide's unnaturally red lips creased into an unnerving smile and he replied haughtily, 'Yes, My Lord, it's true. Other more frivolous painters lack the insight required to perceive beauty in what offends the eye.'" (Hell Screen)

"'As a rule, I'm unable to paint anything I haven't seen. ... I have seen a man bound by iron chains,' Yoshihide said. 'I have made a detailed sketch of another being tormented by a monstrous bird. Thus, it cannot be said that I do not know the tortures that sinners endure. As for the wardens of Hell . . .' here the corners of Yoshihide's lips rose sinisterly, 'as for the wardens of Hell, I have seen them any number of times in my dreams and hallucinations. Devils with bulls' heads, with horses heads, with three faces and six arms. Almost every night they come to torment me with their noiseless clapping hands and their voiceless gaping mouths. No . . . They are not what I am unable to pain.'" (Hell Screen)

"The fleeting moments I have left impel me to set down my story, to describe the motives that brought me to commit the murder, the act itself, as well as the strange state that gripped me after the deed was done. And yet - O! and yet - even now, how keenly I am aware of my breath warming the frozen ink, of having placed this sheet of paper before me, and, with fear and trepidation, trying vainly to master myself. After all, to examine my past and set it down in writing means nothing less than to relive a past life. Once more I hatch my plan, once more I commit the deed, once more I am made to suffer the torments of this last year. Can I really have the strength to endure all this?" (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"My state of mind then was such that a Japan without [her] had become utterly foreign to me. Rather than eke out the existence of a broken man in a country that was no longer my own, I thought it might be better to take a volume of Childe Harold, travel to some remote, distant place and, having roamed the world in lonely solitude, bury my bones in the soil of some foreign land." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"It seems that deep within my soul there lurks a monster incomprehensible even to myself." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"As the time passed, however, little by little I inched closer to the most despicable temptation of my life, and to a destiny with which I would ultimately have to reckon. By no means do I have the courage to recount how fierce was the battle I had to fight, how step by step, it pursued me to the brink of death. No, even now, as I inscribe these lines, I must enter into mortal combat with this hydra of temptation." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"... he contemplated death and war. But not even the faintest glimmer of wisdom came of it. After all, dying was still a wretched business, even if it was for the Emperor. As for war . . . Well, he didn't even hold war to be a crime. Next to war, crime, rooted as it was in private passion, was almost understandable. But war mean one's duty to the Emperor, and nothing else. And yet, he - but no, it was not just he, for more than two thousand men, from every division, had been selected for the White Sash Unit, and they too, whether they liked it or not, would now have to die, carrying out the greatest of duties . . ." (The General)

"I have no artistic conscience; indeed, I have no conscience whatsoever. I have only nerves." (Cogwheels)

"Soon enough, I began to feel that anything and everything was a lie. Politics, industry, arts, science - all this seemed to me little more than a gaily coloured enamel concealing the true horror of human life." (Cogwheels)

"I looked up to the lofty heavens to remind myself how small the world was - and, consequently, how small I myself was - amid the twinkling of countless stars." (Cogwheels)

"I haven't the strength to go on writing this. To live in this state of mind is an agony beyond all words. Isn't there someone kind enough to strangle me softly in my sleep?" (Cogwheels)

[skylermadness]

Dreams In Between Realities (Papa Titan TF/PMC)

(Original Date of Upload: June 24, 2023)

Original Description:

Written as a birthday gift for a friend of mine. As one would expect, Papa Titan from The Owl House was a rather large mood for me once I saw him. Although I wasn't expecting to write a TF of him so fast, but I wanted to give something special for my best friend's birthday! And in general it was really fun to write out. Titans have a unique structure to them that makes writing transformations into them a lot more complicated that other creatures. Not the hardest, but definitely far from the easiest. Hell, I don't think I perfected it yet. But ponky seemed to enjoy it either way, so I'm proud of the end result either way. Although if anyone questions what the heck is going on during the PMC, those are mostly just references to an RP that I was in alongside the friend I wrote this story for. So I apologize if any readers find that segment a bit confusing.

   Getting a package in the mail at 10PM at night was… strange, to say the least. Especially since Parker hadn't initially recalled ordering anything in the past few weeks. If anything, Parker was worried that the knocking at the door was someone trying to intrude their home or something. But considering the fact they couldn't see anyone standing outside they, against better judgment, opened the door to see the aforementioned package sitting on their porch.

   The object was a medium-sized cardboard box with no discernible logos printed on it. The only thing on it that stood out was the packaging label, which was relatively generic and didn't seem to point towards what was within the box or who would have sent it. Overall, very suspicious.

   Parker walks into their living room and sets the box onto a table within it. They hesitantly cut the tape sealing the box with a conveniently placed box cutter, then slowly opened it…

   Their eyes widened in surprise. "Oh!"

   That's when they finally recalled everything. Roughly ten months ago they had, on a whim, bought a fan-made Owl House merch box. It was oddly cheap for the presumed quality, fourty or fifty dollars they could recall. But with the whole thing being fan-made it had inevitably taken a long time to produce and ship. Although the lack of shipping confirmation and numbers, and the fact this was brought to them in the middle of the night- Parker still found it a bit strange.

   However, that didn't fully matter to Parker at this point anymore. They wiped the packing peanuts off the box within the box, being greeted with the sight of really well made artwork of the show's cast, both main and extended, printed onto the box. One could try and pick out all the characters visible on it if they wanted to. 

   They lifted the box out, pushed the other one back a bit, and set the container onto the table before promptly opening it. A sharp exhale exited Parker's mouth at the sight of the contents.

   It was mostly a large amount of assorted objects that were neatly arranged within the box. The most prominent was a large book that contained various fan-made artworks like the one splayed on the box. There was an assortment of keychains featuring chibi versions of the characters, plus a few that looked like the various spell circles and coven sigils. Speaking of those iconic symbols, there was a bag containing slightly larger versions of those symbols connected to half a buckle of some kind. Parker raised a brow wondering what those were for before realizing…

   "...is that a collar??"

   No, it was a red leather choker. Weird thing to include in a box like this but whatever. Other than that the only other items were some other things like sticker sets and minifigures of a few Palismen. Overall, the box itself was interesting! Although something felt… missing?

   Parker went back to the box the container came in and rummaged around the packing peanuts some more. That's when they found a small 'Thank you!' note, presumably from the creators of the box. However their hand also grazed something plastic, causing their attention to direct towards that strange something and pull it out.

   It was a set of two connected clear bags containing two different, albeit very similar plushies! One of the plushies was of one King Clawthorne, and the other was a plushie of… the Titan?

   "Father and son plushies," Parker said with a light chuckle.

   They removed both plushies from their respective bags. The King one was removed first and set onto the table, Parker promptly moving onto the one of the Titan shortly after. Although after they did so they decided to inspect the object a bit more. The plush was of a character that didn't really appear for long in the show after all. Although in general it didn't look very different from the character in question. Comes with all the assortments: classic dad robe, Bad Girl Coven tee, pajama pants showcasing all the basic magic sigils. Even has a small plush worm coming out of its left eye.

   Although as Parker's eyes drifted to stare into the eyes of the Titan plushie, they started to feel… weird. Tired? Parker failed to stifle a yawn, one escaping from their mouth rather quickly.

   "Mmph, usually I can stay up longer than this," they commented. "It wouldn't hurt to go to sleep earlier, I suppose…"

   With another yawn, Parker resolves to head to bed. Titan plushie in hand, they walked out the living room and made their way to their bedroom. Although unaware to them, a golden glow emanates from the single beady eye of the plushie, one of their eyes momentarily glowing in response…

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

   Darkness.

   All they could see was darkness. All they could hear was nothing. Sensory feedback was null. It felt like a void. It is a void.

   …isn't it?

   No. Their senses were coming back. It felt… wet? Were they in some kind of body of water? Wait.

   Parker's eyes snap open and they sit up. "Wha… huh?"

   They look around. The ground was completely flooded in black fluid, the sky seemingly the same as well. There were massive walls surrounding them, almost bone-like and engraved. And in entirety the place was consumed with a green glow. But to Parker what stood out the most were the floating cubes. The place was… strange? Familiar…

   "This is the In Between," Parker whispered to themselves as they stood up. They spiraled in the spot for a second awestruck at where they were. Then they decided to walk towards one of the cubes, the fluid beneath them wobbling under each step. But as they walked up to the cube, they saw… nothing. It seemed to be playing nothing but static, like its connection was lost.

   "What the…"

   They turned their head towards another cube nearby and walked towards that one. Static. 

   Another one, static. And another, still static. Each and every single one seemed to contain nothing but static. It was strange. It was… eerie.

   "Why are they like this…" they then stopped to think. "And why am I here?" The last thing they could recall was heading to sleep. Perhaps this was a strange dream?

   The air was then pierced by a sound. It sounded like… radio tuning? And the source was behind them, causing Parker to turn around in curiosity. 

   The radio tuning them transitions to a hazy feed. Various voices seem to talk, overlayed and muddled and hard to discern. Parker steps towards the source, that being a random cube. The visual feedback within the object was just as muddled, what seems to be tons of scenes playing and overlapped over each other.

   Curious, Parker stretched out an arm. "What… are you-"

   His question was cut off as his hand grazed the cube. In an instant the sound of glass shattering practically blasted within this weird dream-like space. The cube explodes, a sharp shard of it embedding in Parker's hand before dissipating a millisecond later. They feel a sharp pain for that millisecond, being forced to look at their palm to find the cause but only finding nothing.

   The world around them then begins to crack, accompanied by more sounds of shattering glass. Parker looks around in a panic, but realizes everything a bit too late as the supposed reality collapses in on itself. The ground shatters beneath them, walls breaking apart, and more and more cubes explode. A void opens up beneath Parker and before they know it they begin to fall.

   And fall.

   And fall…

   …actually, it's hard to tell if they're falling. 

   It feels like gravity exists, yet with the endless void around them it's truly hard to tell if it's affecting them. They look up to find the shattering dream realm, shards of the world falling down at a significantly slower pace as it seemed Parker was descending into the void faster than they were. Parker sighs, a strange feeling of… something overtaking them. Worry? Confusion? A shiver runs down their spine, and another sharp pain pierces their hand.

   Looking at their hand Parker yet again finds nothing to source the pain back to. Their eyes linger on the palm however. Their hand still feels… unusual, and that unsuality only appears to exacerbate after a few seconds of idleness. Parker squinted their eyes as they looked a little closer at the hand. "Wha…?"

   Things had already started off rather quickly as Parker witnessed many of their fingers beginning to merge with each other in both hands. The fingers that were fusing were the index finger with the middle, and the ring finger with the pinky, leaving the thumb relatively unscathed. The mass of each fusing merging as well resulting in Parker garnering rather thick fingers on each hand. This has even prompted the thumb to begin to swell up considerably in size for the sake of consistency among the now six fingers.

   At the exact same time there seemed to be another set of changes ensuing. The skin upon the upper half of their fingers appeared to be hardening while each one merged, tone steadily darkening to a grayish-brown as flesh was turned to bone. The tips of each of their six fingers lost their roundness as well, sharpening out as if to give them more of a claw-like appearance. 

   The lower half of his fingers seemed to undergo a different transformation though, with dark gray fur emerging around the area before moving downwards to overlay their hands. It was at this point that their hands began altering in size, stretching outwards as they got larger. More and more short fur continued to poke out from the palms and backs of their hands as this occurred, almost looking to be like they were facilitating the growth in size. It wouldn't be long until the soft grays would fully consume each hand though, the fur reaching their wrists and moving forward as it crossed over to their arms.

   "Huh?" Parker vocalized in confusion, curling their newly clawed hands. It wasn't very hard for them to connect the dots. These were way too familiar, way too recognizable to them. "These look just like a Titan's…"

   They could start to feel the sleeves of their jacket begin to fill out, their forearms seeming to increase in size a bit as the fur cascaded forwards and upwards. Surprisingly, it wasn't itchy, instead giving them a sense of warmth that increased as it spread across their surface area. The increase in size also appeared to be a byproduct of muscle mass being added, although after a few seconds a softness was immediately piled on as fat accumulated on their arms. Thick, plump, and was also continuing to increase the tightness of the sleeves around their arms.

   It only took a few seconds before the upper halves of the sleeves tightened as well. Parker's practically non-existent biceps and triceps bulked with mass before the crevices within their skin that signaled this gain in muscularity suddenly got filled out. Nice warm fat circling around their arms as the gray fluff moved up to their shoulders. Even the short sleeves of their undershirt were getting strained by their widening arms as everything reached the shoulder region. 

   Parker's attention got drawn away from their hands, moving both away from their face as they felt a welling in their body as a whole. Their form was widening, getting broader with each passing second and stretching both their jacket and undershirt as a whole. They could even see a few tufts of fur poke out from the sides of the somewhat deep neck of their undershirt. Parker watched the fur steadily converge to the middle of their body before it rushed down to their chest.

   Dark gray furs increasingly formed around the area, their chest getting increasingly fluffier with additional changes inevitably following. The size of their pectorals were getting larger and meatier. But any gain in muscularity was shrouded almost instantly by a softness. Thick fat filled out the region and gave their chest a bit of a flabby look that could be akin to moobs of some kind. The size of them had even seemed evident in their shirt, filling it up with ease as creases formed within it due to their chest pushing up against it.

   Concurrently, their abdominal region was undergoing the almost exact same type of alteration. The hem of their shirt slowly rode up their belly, and the belly itself bloated up with fat. A large amount of fat accumulated around the area, filling up and piling with each passing moment. A thick gut was practically swelling from their abdominal region as a result, and the fur steadily rushed over it with ease. Yet even then it looked soft, squishy, and pleasant. All of this fat gave a certain huggable quality to Parker's form.

   "Oooh…" Parker vocalized softly, a hand on their gut while another hand scratched at their neck, bony claws meeting with the slowly fluffing area. "So… soft…" they said with a pleasant rub of their belly.

   They then blinked a few times, swallowing a lump that was forming in their throat. "Did my voice…" Parker paused for a second, taking in the sudden alteration. "My voice is deepening?"

   Deeper, almost commanding. Yet it seemed to possess a sort of welcoming, calm kindness to it. All the while it sounded like it was garnering a layering effect. Some of the layering sounded like Parker, some of it sounded like someone else, and they knew exactly who that someone else was.

   "It's evident this isn't King…" Parker said with another squish of their belly. They could feel their body continue to morph. Their form still widening, their shirt tearing down the middle a bit with fur poking out of the rip. The hem of the undershirt was still being tugged over their gut. Their spine felt like it was stretching out as well, inches being added each and every second for at least a small while.

   Tall and large with a body filled with fat. "Not just a Titan," their voice cracked as it deepened again. "The Titan…"

   King and Queen, Best of Both Things…

   Their thoughts were broken as they felt a bit of pressure forming in their back and the base of their spine. Two bumps slowly rose from the furred back of Parker, and after a few seconds hard bony spikes emerged from those bumps and began to poke holes in the fabric of their shirt. This pressure only seemed to increase as time went on, Parker wheezing a bit as they hunched and curled to alleviate the pressure a bit. This position only increased it though, if not for a moment. So much pressure was building up beneath their skin, it was as if their body was preparing for something to occur. And the truth was it had, because after just a few more moments of intense pressure in their back a massive SHRRP!! echoed through the empty void.

   Fabric and denim flew upwards as Parker sensed both their shirt and jacket had gotten totalled to a severe degree. Parker turned their head a bit to find massive wings adorning their back. Large and bony. They practically looked filled with holes and yet there was bone that stretched over even those. Parker was in awe, both wings feeling magnificent and grandiose on their body.

    However, being in a curled up position caused the back of their pants to lower a bit. It wasn't long until their spinal pressure was relieved, a large tail having slunk its way behind Parker in milliseconds as well. For a moment it was fleshy, possessing a bulky appearance to its form that tapered out towards the tip. But after a few seconds it fluffed up instantaneously, thick dark gray fur covering a majority of it while light gray fur had covered the tip. Shortly after that the button of their jeans snapped open as it lost the ability to contain their now girthier waist. They could also feel the seat fill out a bit, their butt rounding out with fat filling it out.

   They finally left their curled up position to look at their legs. The rest of their pants were looking to follow in this loss in proper fitting. With everything now progressing further downwards, it resulted in much of their legs bulking up in a similar manner to that of their arms. Slight muscles forming in the thighs, a certain strength emanating through their hamstrings and their quads for a moment. Then it then gave way to a layer of fat, spiraling around their legs and thickening them up even more. It wasn't long until the stitching in their legwear started to tear slightly with bits of fur poking out between them.

   The crus of Parker's legs flared with a warm heat as their calves plumped. They could also feel the bones within both legs stretching, the lower half of their legs growing visible as the ends of their pants were moved further upwards. Parker was now given a more visible view of their now extremely furred legs, and judging by the tugging in their shoes they could tell the final change to their lower body had begun.

   The toecaps of Parker's shoes steadily rose as two prominent bumps were forming. This was caused by their toes, all of them merging together until there were only two left. They also hardened, garnering a boney look to them like Parker's fingers minutes prior. A clawed sharpness etched into the toes as well prompting a ripping from the tips of the footwear with the holes growing out larger as their feet got bigger. The lining connecting the soles to the rest of their sneakers steadily tore off, caused by their feet lengthening and widening. Both feet had been stretching in all directions to fit with Parker's new form, all while fur finished wrapped across their shifting form to end things off. 

   "...mostly changed now…" Parker stated the obvious with a hum. Any concern or fear from earlier had been dispelled entirely. This felt like a dream. A weird, transformative dream. Although a fraction of them felt like this was way too real. Everything felt like it was truly happening to them. But it was hard to convey if that was just the dream talking or not.

   "That plushie must've really gotten to me, heh…" they said with a smile, recalling the object from earlier. A part of them questioned what'd happen had they brought King instead. Wondering if this dream would still be occurring.

   They sighed, taking note of their practically completely changed voice at this point as well. The layering was settling to a single tone, the very one that had formed just minutes ago. Still calm and collected. Now it also sounded like it possessed an almost fatherly tone to it as well. Parker's scratching at their neck shifted to rubbing as the fur appeared to have completely consumed the area. An almost thick set of fluff that circled the entire area, their neck having widened beneath it during the process. 

   Parker let out a deep, shuddered sigh, smiling as they could feel the sea of gray begin to rush beneath their jaw and onto their chin. Fur emerged from their chin, growing longer and longer. This growth was a prominent one as well with it not just stopping at a normal beard length. Fur moved down past their neck, quickly reaching down to Parker's torso and laying atop their chest. If anything the bunch of fur looked to be a mane. This would be proven by a similar amount of fur trailing up the sides and back of Parker's head. Their bun had been forcibly snapped open as the strap holding it instantly lost the ability to contain the lengthening fur that that portion of their hair was becoming, fluffy grays moving far beyond their neck and onto their upper back.

   A more drastic change had entered their upper jaw and the remainder of their skull simultaneously. Their skin was hardening, the coloration becoming what looked to be a grayed-brown like their claws had. Their face was in the process of pushing out into a thin muzzle, their upper lip seeming to merge with their gums as both turned to the bone, and the upper row of teeth became visible with that change. The rest of the skin on their face only continued to get harder with a swath of changes consuming their facial features; the nose sinking into the muzzle until it was nothing but holes, eyes sinking further into their skull as things progressed, even their eyebrows were completely lost to the changes as their head became nothing but a skull.

   Hair sloughed off rapidly on the apex of their skull, long brown fuzz steadily floating off from their cranium before disappearing into the surrounding void. The loss of hair got more prevalent as well until it reached the lower back section of their skull. Replacing Parker's hair was a set of horns that emerged from their scalp, and another set of horns also looked to appear at the front of where their ears used to be. Said ears slowly merging with the bone as the second set of horns grew forward, getting smaller and smaller until they were nothing. The horns just got longer, even curling a bit before they got to the tip. Interestingly, the right horn had a significant crack in it. After this the final physical change came with what was left of their eyes, both slowly shrinking until nothing was in the sockets of the skull. Then a bright blue light entered the right socket.

   With the physical changes slowly coming to a halt, a second slew of changes emerged in Parker's clothing. The severe feeling of tightness was dissipating, everything growing to a size that would better fit his newly rotund form. Alongside this came a slew of shifts to material as well. Their jacket, bright blue and composed of denim, softened significantly to a more cotton-esque material. The blue coloration dulled, slowly shifting into a plain brown color. The bottom portions of it grew downwards until they laid halfway down Parker's thighs, and the sleeves expanded until they had a baggy quality to them. The jacket's collar shrunk away, being replaced by a simple portion of rolled up material instead. The pocket disappeared as well, being replaced by a belt loop where a belt composed of the exact same material snaked around their waist, remaining undone as it did so. At this point it'd be more apt to call the former jacket a robe now.

   Beneath their jacket was their changing undershirt. Rips and tears fixed while the hem crawled back down their belly and covered it back up properly. The cyan color dimmed, a dull pink fading into it instead. At the same time, the singular white stripe was overwritten with what appeared to be a simple albeit recognizable graphic. The words 'Bad Girl Coven' inked onto the t-shirt in multiple calls, all with a stylized drawing of an all-too-familiar witch appearing right beside it.

   Lastly was his jeans which, much like his jacket, underwent a shift of denim to cotton. The legs lengthened, so much so that they bunched up a bit around Parker's feet. The coloration darkened, deep blue washing away as an almost blackish brown sweeped over it. From this came a couple soft glows forming around the fabric; circles of reds, blues, whites, and greens appearing at random across the newly changed legwear. Within these circles appeared various sigils as well. Once they all finished forming, Parker's pants would appear to look more like a pair of pajama bottoms.

   Parker, having taken note of the changes, wanted a chance to explore them more. But they didn't have much time to process things as a familiar black and green cube floated down in front of them from the void above. The top arch of one of their eye holes raised in curiosity. "...eh-?"

   They could barely respond properly as the cube suddenly exploded, enshrouding the recently transformed Titan in a blinding green light. And with it came a sudden assault of foreign memories…

   'Hey there, big guy. Wild guess, but… Connecticut?'

   'I- uh, yeah.'

   Why were those voices so familiar…

   'Dad…? R-right, how could I…'

   Everything was conflicting. Part of that felt wrong and yet it felt so right…

   '-eactivate the illusion on me now!'

   'Dad, I don't think now's time time-'

   It was so much- so many emotions, so many feelings being written into Parker's head. Pride, fear, conflict, worry, love in so many different shades. It was overwhelming, and yet at the same time-

   'How bout we work on that together? We remind each other that-'

   Voices fade in and out. Unfamiliarity and familiarity twist and turn into a spiral. It was like some kind of mental DNA strand, so much trying to be comprehended into a single mind. Selves meshing and melding, two sets of memories and personalities merging into one before one set seems to take control. It's uneven, a split based on quarters rather than halves. 

   'We will give everyone a chance-'

   The scene changes in an instant.

   '-still time to salvage everything, to undo-'

   Then it changes again, and again, and again. A story far beyond the one everyone knows, yet it's a story that's been told somewhere that Parker's being exposed to. A development that was not theirs, yet it's something that's being placed within them. Meshed into them.

   One final sentence echoes through the realm. 'We can work through the complicated together, instead of you having to go it alone. It's always harder alone, but, with someone else it gets easier to bear.'

   What that means feels hard to comprehend, as everything was only being given in flashes. More memories still ensued beyond that, but the light felt like it was fading. Everything felt like it was fading. And with everything being forced into their mind, Parker's blue eyes formed a slit as a yellowish-orange overtook their irises. A single name had now resonated in their mind, replacing the old one as their identity seemed to overhaul in that very instant.

   Pops…

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

   Titan anatomy was a mystery, but if there was one thing Pops could feel as his eyes slowly opened it was a headache akin to his skull being split open. 

   "Nngh, that dream…"

   He could recall it vividly. Memories of himself and… another version of himself. This wasn't the first time this has occurred of course, but this was definitely the first time someone else has been inserted into him.

   Pops laid back in the recliner he had gone to sleep in hours prior. The headache was bound to dull soon, but he could practically feel his personality warping beneath everything. Everything was hazy and confusing still, and it made him want to take another nap. The fact it made his own memories dull for the time being didn't alleviate much worry either. It was like everything was getting mixed together still, not having the chance to settle yet.

   "Jus' need to… rest myself for a little longer…" Pops closed his eye sockets and sighed. 

   Despite it all, a sense of contentment did exist. It was equal to the kind he felt just months prior. It was evident that the new introductee into the Titan's mental capacity had wanted this to a degree. That felt… reassuring at least.

   He'll have to work through it all later however. Once everything within that skull of his fully takes root.

   "...Parker. That is a rather nice name…"

[stylezxsilvermoon]

a shatter in the stars: prolouge: arcadian dreams

hey babies so basically by the time you'll see this im on vacation and i decided to drop a lil sum sum, im posting 4 chapters (including this one) of an UNRELEASED story, its been in my drafts for TWO YEARS *nervously laughs* and its finally all yours

obviously my writing is going to be less mature/less grounded than usual but keep in mind before i get back into the jump the previous chapters i had written paritially or complete will stay as written! im not rewriting them because: this was the vision i had in that present moment and through this i can curate something similar to it with my newer updated style of writing

imo, i basically write the same i just have better grammar/pacing, but to me there's a bit of a difference and people can tell when they read my writing

regardless, hope you like it

i present, a shatter in the stars

(started July 9, 2022)

A/N: Starting off simply, this work will contain acts of mystical and magical creatures alike, unlike the real world but with small aspects of it, set in a whole different view on love and enchantment, and life itself

Warnings: Major character death, mentions of violence, depictions of sexual content, mentions of anxiety, toxic behavior, depictions, and twists of reality, drama & angst

Tags: gay content (bxb) Louis and Harry paring, Larry Stylinson, royalty, tragedy, enchanted love, bakery boy! Harry, Prince! Louis Swan lake! AU enchanted! AU tragedy! AU, friends to lovers! AU Long Hair! Harry Long Hair! Louis Vintage! AU

Harry

The day breaks onto the morning light as the light of the amber colored sun grazes my skin, I arise from the washed-out sheets as I stretch my limbs to begin the early day ahead of me, I squint my eyes as the sun hits my bare irises as I yelp out softly at the slight sting.

I wear a smile on my face as my sock covered feet touch the wooden floor as I tie up my tantalizing curls in a small messy bun, I rub my eyes as I pass by the almost ancient mirror leaning against the far wall as I wink at myself cheekily.

I dash down the stairs of my small cottage as I’m greeted with the sounds of the animals that grace the village, I tsk daringly as I see my cat Dusty, still asleep, snoozing away on the arm of the far worn-out love seat placed pliantly on the crimson red rug of my small, but quaint living room, I pat her head softly as I run to the kitchen and begin my usual routine.

I put a kettle on for tea as I dance around the kitchen to the sound of my own randomized toons of song as I wait for the water to heat up.

I wordlessly hum as I await my days and nights to blend and begin, life in the countryside of Gardania seems peachy perfect at times, but most of all, the dangerous and daring royals that fiercely protect our land, that, put simply is what makes our land imperial and strong.

I stroll to the unopened curtains of the canopy window placed next to the kitchen, I tease the curtains open lightly as I am embraced with the warmth of the autumn sun, I take in the outside view as leaves are strewn across the streets and paved walkways are marked with people in fitting attire for the streak of cold weather we were having here.

I sit atop the countertop and sip my tea as I daydream about the lives of everyone passing by the busy intersection my cottage is located in.

I gasp at the sight of a seemingly out of place bird flying towards the window I was sat at, I hesitate to open it as a cold strew of air unleashes its fury as a shiver, still clad in the nightclothes I’d warn to bed, nonetheless I shake off the frosty feeling as the bird lands atop my perched arm as it bears a letter tied beautifully with a royal blue satin ribbon, I squeal in excitement as I know even before my hands may touch the parchment paper my mind can already sense the contents inside of it.

I carefully unwrap the ribbon as the letter is addressed broadly to the entire countryside of Gardania, I set the ribbon under my mug to prevent it from flying away with the harsh wind as the window still peaks whirls of air from winters longing grasp that is sure to cast over the next few months.

Dear Gardanian, we invite you to the royal fall charity event ball hosted by the heir to the throne prince Louis William Tomlinson.

We invite you to our very own eerie and chilling Halloween masquerade ball to celebrate the predating of the prince’s crowning ceremony, to be hosted at the winter ball!

Join in as the prince’s very own acquaintance and to meet, the future leader of our country, and the smart and daring knights and chiefs that rule by his side, Zayn Malik, head of the prince’s knight and security team, and his head war general and right hand in command, Liam Payne.

So won’t you wish the prince a happy coronation the 1st year in the making, citizens of Gardania along with exquisite bonus guests join from across the lands to see this historic event!

We hope to see you, in the prince’s line of view

With much love, the Tomlinson Royal Family and co.

My eyes hold a look of shock as I read the letter carefully as I smile widely at its contents, the royal family of Gardania had always been generous to its people, but most of all, careful of any sort of intrusion on their delicate balance of a royal life.

I feed the delivery bird a chunk of bread as it flies off happily with its meal, I gently close the window as Dusty leaps onto the counter and scratches at the remains of the bird’s feathers.

My heart leaps at the chance to meet a member of the royal family, most of all I adore, prince Louis Tomlinson, I swoon at just the name on its own at a variety of voices stroll through my head.

Though having not, a single sliver of a chance of meeting him, my daydreams cast me along from my reality of a hum drum life, I think back to my shift at my parents’ bakery that is soon to begin, I sip the remains of my tea as I rush off and tuck the note in my crossbody bag as I set off to begin the day.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I look to the clock atop the city tower in town’s square as my shift is to begin in a mere fifteen minutes, I hurry the pace of my walking as I greet many customers known on the street to my family’s business, and to my line of view by serving them.

I reach the homey colored sign home to the family bakery as I hear the gallops of my sister’s horse riding into town after one of her merrily adventures, soon to be gone in a flash, back on the trails of adventure to tame all things unknown.

“Hi Haz.” She states as her steed stops next to a post to tie it’s reins too, she dismounts as her cheerily cherry red boots hit the grassy ground with a thud, I give her a warm hug as the sign is flipped to ‘open’ by our mother as she waves at us through the display window, our dad already hot on her tail baking sweets and staple goods for the shop and the customers enthralled to purchase them.

“Hey Gems, fancy staying to help me with the shop?” I ask as Gemma nods happily

“Right, we should get on then!” I say as I open the door for her as she steps in, the warm smell of sticky sweet cinnamon buns hits my nose faster than I can react as Gemma snatches one off the tray Dad is holding to pack in boxes for the display case to be filled and ready for business.

“Aye! I just finished making those you little bugger!” Dad says playfully as Gemma yelps and runs off to the kitchen, not before grabbing an apron, and tossing mine into my waiting hands, of course.

“Did you hear about the ball that’s being hosted by the royal family?” I ask as Gemma lays out the ingredients to make the pastries and breads

“You and your fantasies Harry, are you going to attend?” She chuckles as I shrug my shoulders, unsure of the answer.

“I have no idea yet, all I know is I’d love to attend, all depends on the hours for the bakery, and you can’t forget delivery.” I point out as Gemma begins to roll the dough out on the floured table

“It’ll be spooky, since Halloween is coming up aye?” Gemma says as I shake my head in agreement

“Yeah, and most of all, this party is only the predating to his crowning, the prince of course.” I swoon as Gemma makes kissing noises at me

“You and that prince, how many times have you seen him out in the streets Harry! Do you even know what he looks like?” Gemma questions as I scoff

“Don’t you remember the spring ball in the year’s past when the royal family asked us to make 2 thousand cherry mini pies, simply because they were the prince’s favorite?” I ask as Gemma drew a blank

“How do you remember these things!” She shouts

“Well, point is, I delivered that entire batch, along with dad, I saw a glimpse of him when the prince sampled the pie with his tasting attendant, he made one of the most beautiful faces I have ever seen while eating a cherry pie, simply magnificent.” I boasted as Gemma rolled her eyes

“Whatever Harold, how long have you had a special fancy for this prince, I believe he’s a spoiled brat.” Gemma says as I disagree loudly

“The prince! He would never, this is hearsay!” I throw my arms in the air dramatically

“Hm, my opinion stands.” Gemma huffs as she rolls the dough for what I’m assuming is a baguette as she sighs

I shuffle around the kitchen as I slip on my apron along the way, I grab everything needed for our team-of-two task of making the multiple assorts of bread for the bakery, I sigh as I think back to the ball the kingdom was hosting, would I go? I marveled, what could I possibly wear, the whole ordeal sounds like a Cinderella situation, though, it’s not inaccurate either, I laugh lowly as I spill flour onto the table and coat the premature bread dough.

My mind slips as I think about meeting the prince, though my foolish schoolboy crush on him must deserve a bit of vindication? Right? I suppose many other interesting events will take place there as well.

Though I wouldn’t even want to miss a shift at the Styles’ bakery, I couldn’t think of missing a day and seeing each and every one of the regulars, it may sound washed up, but I really had a sweet soft spot for everyone in this small part of town.

“Harry?” Gemma asked as she snapped me out of my daydream “Are you thinking about that prince again?” She smirked as I scoffed and shook the flour off my hands as I denied her accusations.

Truth be told the countryside of England, which is home to the beautiful birthplace of Gardania, has been my home for decades, though new technology and advances move on throughout the years, the homey feel of the towns lore stays the same, I’ve had a fancy for the prince ever since his mum, the Queen, spoke at my primary school’s graduation ceremony, I was ridden with a schoolboy crush on him ever since, not like I’d stand a chance, though.

What I lacked in this lifetime, at least, was courage, it was essential to support any figurehead of the entire country, let alone the heart of Gardania, it took courage, and in my 2 decades of being on this earth, I’ve yet to conquer that task, I sigh as I wipe sweat from my forehead as the ovens fire at full speed as many of the baked goods sizzle and brown inside the oven.

“I’m heading out to the front for some air, keep an eye on the timer for me aye?” I spoke as Gemma nodded and opened one of her favorite novels while looking up at me cheekily, of course.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Later that day.

I watch as the sun marooned beautiful colors in the early afternoon sky, it reflected against the clear windows of the shop, I sighed softly as I chatted with one of mum’s friends that regularly visited the shop.

“Harry, I bet my daughter Luciana would love you honey! Why don’t I set you two up a date? It must be awful lonely working long shifts at the bakery alone.” Maria babbled on, though it wasn’t entirely her fault, she just simply had no idea that I was, who I am, let’s just say that.

“Erm, I’m not intently looking for a relationship right now, with the holiday rush coming up, there’s simply no time for, things like that.” I spoke as I stuttered a bit at the end of my sentence.

“Oh Harry! You and your modesty! Look at you! You’re gorgeous darling!” Maria insisted as I shook my head politely

“Thank you, really, but I’ll have to decline Mrs. Addams, enjoy your crème filled pastries.” I stated as I gritted my teeth slightly

“Thank you, Mr. Styles!” She gushed with a bit of flare in her voice “I’ll be back for a wonderful Christmas cake doll!” She spoke softly as I waved her goodbye, I cleaned off the counterpart I was leaning against with a soft towel as I clapped my hands together as there was no one left in the shop, except for my family, perhaps in the kitchen on their way out.

I flip the sign to ‘closed’ as I sigh reluctantly, I look to the display case as I spot the prince’s favorite, I snag one as I bite into the small dessert, in hopes of gaining enough courage to go to that god forsaken ball my mind happens to remind me of non-stop.

I decide for the latter as I run a hand through my mussed-up hair as I chew the mini cherry pie thoroughly as I check everything is prim and perfect for the shop the next morning, or rather to make it easier on myself for the night shifts I would be doing for the holiday rush.

I sigh and make my way to the back of the bakery as mum and dad are perched on the family ‘lounge’ couch we’ve made into a employee break room, I wave silently as they chat on about the happenings in the town.

I shake my head at their banter as Gemma enters the scene, once again stealing one of the sweets as Dad gives her a warning glare as she finishes her sweet after a long day’s work of bakery task endeavors.

“Tired Gem?” I question as she puts her hands against her lap as she sighs,

“Massively H, why in gods great earth do people love bread so much?” Gemma throws her hands in the air as I chuckle, I truly don’t understand that myself, I suppose.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The light of the sun is nearly leaving the sky by the time I bid the bakery and my family goodbye as I venture off to a path around the back of the humble bakery as I muss my hair as it seems to be fighting the wind in all the wrong ways, I chuckled as I walked past all the familiar faces in this place, my smile grows wider than the hillside as I make my way down a separate path down to my cottage.

I watch as animals’ whirl and rush through the town as cranky townspeople wave them off, my eyes see as clear as day as a pristine pearl white swan casts through the sky as the people of Ethernia, the capital of Gardania.

My mind pondered as I supposed the townspeople wished to capture the beautiful creature for unthinkable things no kindhearted soul would dare to dream of, nonetheless, my eyes were set on the backdrop of the entire scene as I saw a rushing waterfall coat the grassy lands around it with nourishing growth that nature well enough needed.

I looked closer as I hesitated, the swan almost seemed to peer at me before disappearing into the waterfall, what a sight! I marveled as my mind thought up many possibilities of where the swan may have gone off to.

My mind thinks back to memories of the waterfall being there, perched high atop a mountain on the very edges of town, as I walked closer, I realized a mistic light almost looked like it was behind it, what could that be? I thought.

My mind compelled me as my legs moved without my knowledge as I stepped into the waterfall, most of the people of Ethernia may have thought I was mad, but I acted awfully courageous in this moment from here on, I looked to the clothes that were set upon my skin as they didn’t seem to be wet from the rushing water, what magic, my skin littered with goosebumps as my heart pounded like the race of a thousand horses through a grassy plane as I crept in further to see the sight below the raging waterfall.

“Harry!” A friend of my mother called

I turned around slightly and looked back to here as she looked back at me as if I was just a dream, or a magical creature that belonged not in our world, but an ethereal cast of light, or perhaps a tormentors sight of nightmares.

I smiled back at her as I closed my eyes for a split second, I felt myself fall as I looked back into the waterfall again.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I looked into the waterfalls contents as a magical world seemed to be lying on the other side, I took in every view as they came along as I moved, I looked to woodland creatures then again, up to the tall trees, some sort of substance was floating in the air, as the sun created shadows against the trees, I looked to where the waterfall was behind me before, no going back, I suppose.

I looked to a wild horse that neighed and rain along a uncharted path, my mind became billowed in warmth and whimsy as I followed it, to where ever it may have been going.

Then came an impasse, I looked to a break in the ground beneath me as a raging river sat almost a hundred feet down from the cliffside, a hefty log of a tree lay upon it, I gulped as the horse crossed it with ease, what sort of place may this be?

I kept on the path I was taking as the horse crossed the overpass, I took a giant leap as I trapezed my way across it as the hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up, due to a light breeze whipping through this enchanted land.

My eyes can’t get enough of the view around me as I whirl as if I was a simple leaf among the docile winds, I hear faint sounds of voices around me as I fall in deeper with the enchanted lands.

But just then, I hear a voice as I hear the hoofs of the horse gallop away, I see its pearl white mane glisten in the sunlight as  I begin to question whether this entire place around me is a dream, or reality.

“My dear, what are you doing here?”

A/N: New things to discover in the brand-new world, how do we feel about the first chapter? What do you think Harry will discover in the hidden world behind the waterfall? What will become of the royal family at the ball? How do we feel about how Harry’s life might change?

As always, comment your theories and predictions!

All the love, stylezxsilvermoon (written in time when louiscarrotsxoxo username was in use)

time written: 6/14/22

time posted/published: 7/01/2024

[lilblog-asatreat]

Prompt: Woman with ice-blue hair; fanciful; temple

(Prompt from Roll-A-Prompt Writing Journal Boxed Set)

Lup stood facing a full body mirror and admired her reflection. The main part of her hair was done up in a high bun with the hair on the sides of her head let loose and cascading down her shoulders. The sleeves of her dress hung off her shoulders, and the body of it hugged her nicely down to the waist where it fanned out and trailed behind her. It was colored with bright reds, oranges, and yellows, and when Lup spun around in it, it glowed as if the dress itself was made of fire.

It was the most beautiful dress ever crafted, and it was made for her specifically for this very day. This very moment. Lup had never felt so awe strikingly beautiful.

There was a knock on the door, and then Taako entered the room, wearing a cinnamon colored suit with black sequins. He stopped for a second to take in Lup's appearance. He started to tear up, but he cleared his throat and closed the door behind him.

"Is it time?" Lup asked.

Taako nodded. "You look beautiful."

Lup smiled and turned to look at herself in the mirror again. "I feel beautiful. I mean, more so than usual." She laughed a little and grabbed a tissue to dab at her eyes. She can't cry yet. She hadn't even walked down the aisle.

Taako moved to stand next to her. "It's been one hell of a journey to make it to where we are today, hasn't it?"

"I'll say." Lup turned to look at him. "Taako, I-... I never thought I'd make it this far. I mean, I hoped and dreamed and I talked about having future plans when we were kids because I needed our lives to mean something and to feel like we'd eventually find a way to do more than survive, but this... I never I thought I'd find someone, Taako. I never thought I'd find someone who I'd want to share the rest of my life with and who'd want to do the same with me, and now I have, and I'm going to, and I have to thank you so much for that."

Taako raised an eyebrow. "Thank me? For what? You picked him out yourself, homie. Unless you mean thanking me for putting up with your whining and complaining that 'he doesn't love me in that way' and 'I don't want to ruin things with him by talking to him about it' for decades when I told you point blank that he told me the exact same things about you."

Lup laughed. "Yes, thank you for that, but also... I wouldn't have gotten into the Institute without you. I wouldn't have gone on this mission and met him without you. You're my one constant in my life, and I want to thank you for that."

Taako blinked and looked away. "Thank you for being my one constant too." He said thickly.

Lup gave him a hug, and he hugged her back. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They stayed like that for a moment before Lup pulled away to place her red veil delicately on her head.

Taako cleared his throat again, wiped his eyes, and walked back to the door. "Ready?" He asked with his hand on the handle.

Lup smiled. "Ready."

The guests in the pews stood up as the twins walked down the aisle, arm in arm. There were so many familiar faces. Davenport, Lucretia, Merle, and Magnus who was waving wildly with a big goofy smile on his face. There was their favorite aunt who taught them how to cook and Grandpa Tostada. Friends Lup made while on the road and at school though it didn't really make much sense that some of them were there because humans don't live that long? There were also some unfamiliar faces who looked vaguely like her husband-to-be.

Lup smiled and waved at all of them as she passed. The light pouring in through the long windows of the temple from the double sunset made her dress look like it was set ablaze. She looked around at the banners lining the walls which were emblazoned with a design of a needle with thread weaving around it and a circle encapsulating all of it: the symbol of Istus. She looked in front of her at the tapestry hanging on the wall behind the pulpit. It was depicting a woman with long white hair knitting a blanket with the whole world tucked inside it. Standing in front of the tapestry and behind the pulpit was a tall dark woman with ice-blue hair. She smiled as Lup and Taako made their way forward, and Lup smiled back. Then she saw him, and she almost tripped over her own feet as she paused for a second while Taako kept moving on ahead.

Barry Bluejeans stood in front of the pulpit with his lips turned up in a nervous smile. He wore a bright blue denim suit with an indigo bowtie, and he was already teary eyed as he watched Lup walk closer and closer to him. This was it. This was happening. And Barry looked stunning. All Lup wanted to do was kiss his brains out, but she could wait.

When she made it to the pulpit, Taako squeezed her hand then left to take his seat. The priestess started talking the usual spiel that happens at weddings about their union, but Lup couldn't be bothered to listen. She found studying every inch of Barry's face and wondering how she got to be so lucky as to have him in her life much more interesting. The way Barry smiled softly at her with so much love in his eyes made her feel like she was the most important person in the world.

"Lup, do you take Barry Bluejeans to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"What?" Lup looked up startled.

A couple of the people in the audience snickered.

The priestess smiled. "Do you take Barry to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"Oh. Oh yes, of course I do!" She giggled a little sheepishly.

"Barry Bluejeans, do you take Lup to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Barry chuckled quietly. "I do."

The priestess turned to the altar that was a few feet away from her where a couple of unlit candles stood on top of it.

"Lup."

"Lady Istus, Goddess of Fate, do you bless this union to be part of your design?"

"Lup!"

Lup wakes up with a start. She sits up, rubs her eyes blearily, and blinks a couple of times before looking around and sighing. She has never felt so happy and so heartbroken about finding herself in bed with Barry in the small room they now share on the Starblaster. She pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs them tightly as Barry wraps his arms around her and gives her a kiss on her temple.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you up, babe, but Taako just finished making dinner, and Davenport wants to have a team meeting while we eat," he says quietly.

Lup nods, but instead of getting up, she buries her head into Barry's shoulder and starts to cry.

"Babe! What-"

"We were home, Barry," she mumbles through muted sobs. "We- we were home and we were- were getting married the way people at home d-do. At a Temple of Istus with all of our fr-friends and family, and Istus was just-just about to give us her blessi-ing."

Barry kisses the top of her head and holds her closer. "Were you wearing that dress you told me about? The one you've wanted to wear since you were a kid?"

Lup nods. "And you were wearing a d-denim suit because of course you w-were."

Barry laughs and rubs comforting circles into her back. "Denim looks really good on me, sue me."

Lup laughs and hiccups. "It was a ver-ery flattering suit."

Barry continues to hold her as she calms down, and soon she's breathing heavily against him though her tears have stopped. They sit in silence for a few more minutes before Lup says, "Barry... I want to marry you again. But not like how other people do it. I mean, it's been fun learning the different cultures of the planets we touch down in and getting married their way, but I want to have our planet's wedding. I know it's fanciful dreaming because we're probably never going to be able to go back, but it's not fair that the opportunity got taken from us, and I just want to have it our way."

Barry hums in agreement. "It's a shame none of the realities we've come to has as big of a following for Istus as ours had. It's been really weird not having her as a central pillar of everyday life. But I promise, the next reality we come to that even has one temple of hers, we'll go there and get married and have her bless our union the way that she does at home."

They sit quietly again for a few more minutes, and Barry plays with her hair. Finally, Lup sits up and kisses him slowly, savoring the warmth of his lips, before pulling away again and wiping her eyes. "So Taako made dinner, and Davenport wanted a group meeting?" She asked, still breathing shakily.

Barry nods and squeezes her hand reassuringly. "Yeah, Taako made that one dish you and he had back in Tesseralia."

"Oh hell yeah!" Lup jumps up from the bed and runs out of the room, leaving Barry laughing behind her.

[nyxxhexx]

🎉 2021 Channeled Musical Messages for the Signs 🎉

Read for your Sun, Moon, Rising, and Venus 🌌

Overall Theme of 2021

Colors pt. II by Halsey

This is the follow-up to a year of heartache, heart break, disappointment, disillusionment, forgetfulness, and forgoing all that was meant to be ours. Now, we begin this new year on a hopeful note - we step into all that was meant to be and believe that it belongs to us. The colors begin to shift from monochrome to radiant, and light falls upon even the darkest of nights.

You are going to be okay.

Aries

We Are Sex Bob-Omb by Sex Bob-Omb

This year is irreverent. Declare who you are proudly and loudly, and don't let anyone forget it. Say what you need to say as it comes; don't let a single moment pass you by. Live for immediacy. Jump on chances when they come. You never know when you'll get another opportunity - last year proved that more than anything. You're ready for all that is coming, so be prepared to jump into the unknown. Find others who are willing to jump with you (or, at the very least, who are willing to wait for you at the bottom!) You will not walk through this year alone, even if you will it. Trust in the process, and accept that you are loved.

Taurus

Thnks fr th Mmrs by Fall Out Boy

It's time to let go of them. You know who. They aren't following you into this year, and holding on to them as more than they really are will only prove to be harmful. You have so much potential for love - stop pretending like you don't have feelings. Embrace newness; embrace change; embrace difference. Once you look back with clear eyes, you'll realize the memories are tinged with nostalgia and unrealistic expectations. Stop comparing others and view everyone with new eyes - they are each their own person, and not treating them as such will only lead to more heartbreak and disappointment. It's time to make the change, so make it. Jealousy will get you nowhere.

Gemini

Teddy Picker by Arctic Monkeys

It's not all it's cracked up to be. You have dreams and plans for this year, but you need to reevaluate what you think you want. Temper your expectations accordingly. The impossible can happen, and this year will be better - this isn't a message of discouragement, but a message of realistic expectations. Things don't just happen; they don't just change because the calendar shifts. You will get all you want, but you must actively put in the effort for it to ensure it's yours. Make sure you really want all you're pursuing. Don't waste your time on anything that's not worth your time and effort; throw yourself into everything else whole-heartedly. Just make sure it's not a distraction from something else. You deserve straightforward paths and clear conversation; never settle for any less. Make sure those around you know that, and this year will change for the better for certain. You already know the first step, so proceed boldly and with confidence in yourself.

Cancer

Forgiven, Not Forgotten by the Corrs

Do you really want to sit there and watch your days pass you by? You've been crying over this for so long; last year drew a lot of tears, but it's time for them to stop. You're still holding on; now it's time to let go. You need to tie up some of these loose ends before you can move into 2021. It's okay - the year's start can wait for you, but it won't wait long. Get up and start making moves towards forgiving yourself and forgetting others. You cannot accept all that this new year has for you until you make room by releasing the old one. You've been promised color and vibrancy - the blues and greys will fade over time, blossoming into reds, pinks, yellows, and brighter blues. You're ready to move on; all that's stopping you is yourself. Nobody is worth holding onto this way - especially no man. Let him go and accept the change for good. You're ready to move on once and for all. But just because you forget doesn't mean they will; if those old memories pop back up in your life, hold your ground and push them back out. You deserve better, so open yourself to it to receive it at last.

Leo

Goodbye Graceful by Falling In Reverse

You're leaving behind something good. Maybe that's okay, and maybe it isn't. If you really need to move on, move on gracefully and without malice. Burning this bridge isn't going to help you at all; you might need to cross it again in the future. Take all that you've learned in 2020 and apply it to the new year - if you forget all that happened, what was it all for? Yes, it was terrible, but there is something to be learned even from the worst events. Sometimes you just need to know that, no matter what happened, you survived. You lived through it all, and you will be okay again. Take time for yourself, but don't cut everyone off. You are loved by so many, so find the balance between the need for isolation and the need to surround yourself with others. Trust those who prove they can be trusted, and bow out gracefully from those who can't. Have faith that everything will work out - this year is a year for believing in the impossible, so believe. Trust in the bell curve; things are gradually going to get better until you finally find what you're looking for.

Virgo

I'm Legit by Nicki Minaj and Ciara

This year is about shaking up your routine. Step out of your comfort zone and embrace your inner Leo. You're the best of the best, you know that, now flaunt it. Brag on yourself like you're writing a resume. You deserve top shelf everything, so splurge. Treat yourself to what you want, even if it doesn't seem practical. Above all else, remember that you don't have to change yourself to do any of this. You don't need to change your appearance, your lifestyle, or your friend group - you just need to change your mindset. These two ideals might not seem to be compatible at first, but over time you'll realize how they fit together to better your life and make 2021 all it's meant to be.

Libra

My Propeller by Arctic Monkeys

The situation is urgent now, but don't rush it. You've been building towards something for the entirety of 2020, but it hasn't quite come to pass yet. Carry on towards it - the new year doesn't automatically shift things. You're very close to achieving that goal; the planets are synergizing, everything's falling into place. Make those last few moves. Say what you need to say, do what you need to do, and don't let time keep passing without setting things in stone. The time for waiting is over - the situation can't get started on its own. You have to set it into motion now, then keep the momentum going until you cross that finish line. Don't give up now; keep pushing for what you want and it'll come to you. Just be sure you do so with great purpose of movement and very, very carefully. Rushing things will only make them fall apart, but moving slowly and with purpose will make all the difference. Luck is on your side here; put it all into practice with faith, and you'll achieve your goals. The waiting between now and then is just a necessary evil, but it'll build your strength and stamina for the event itself. In the end, you'll be happy you didn't rush things, and everything will work out.

Scorpio

Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But... by Arctic Monkeys

In 2020, you let far too many people suck the life, love, and energy out of you. That will not go on any longer. You know what you deserve now, so stop denying yourself everything you know you're owed. There will be no more thinking about all you could have or should have done; there will be only doing. Cut off the people who drain you once and for all. Instead, surround yourself with people who give and take in equal measure. Don't retreat too far into yourself, though - your instinct may be to run completely and hide behind your walls, but those instincts are wrong. You've got to find a way to walk the line and achieve balance. If you don't, you'll fall too far to either side, and getting back to the middle will be difficult, but not impossible. Maintain your balancing act and ask for help, no matter sure you are you can do it all on your own. There are those in your life who are ready and willing. Just say the word and they'll be there.

Sagittarius

All I Need by Matchbox Twenty

You already know what you need this year. What are you waiting for? What's stopping you? If it isn't monumental, then it's already yours; if it is, then believe in the impossible. What you have right now isn't a permanent solution to filling the hole in your chest. You've been searching and searching for fulfillment. Now, it's time to claim it. Reach out and take that missing piece - and then start helping those around you find theirs. The dream isn't over for any of you, so don't give up, and don't let them give up either. It can be hard to trust our own instincts, so trust the messages meant for you. Trust the synchronicities and confirmations. This is just the first of many, so keep an eye out; you're already being guided in the right direction.

[jenovahh]

Wild Greens Choke Tended Gardens - Ch. 4 - Gladiolus (Sword Lily)

He’s bored.

He usually is, but something about the monotony of everyday life seems particularly...bothersome now.

It has been another day of delegating and overseeing, having returned to the Garlean Embassy within Kugane after releasing the Warrior of Light back to her friends.

“I’m A’yana Salvia, the Warrior of Light.” She huffs, her tail giving an angry flick. “And you are going to let my friends go, peacefully.”

He can’t help but let loose a chuckle then, eyes unseeing as a servant refills his glass of wine. He had to admit, it was certainly amusing to see how readily she stood up to him, how she was devoid of fear despite her defeat by his hand at their last encounter. He couldn’t help but find the entire situation...refreshing.

“You are strong, but I am willing to lay down my life for my friends. I would do whatever it takes to allow them to escape.”

He had heard of people like her. Noble. Dutiful. Selfless.

A waste, comes the thought unbidden.

He had never understood those types, those that threw down their lives for the sake of others. Those who attached their sole reason to do battle to weak concepts such as selflessness and pride.

Man should fight for the joy of it. Only man could fight for fightings’ sake.

“Why are you even here?”

He can’t help but grin to himself, remembering her rage, how her eyes flashed with unbridled fury at his insult of her skills. How he could see any desire to save her friends had bled from her eyes and turned into a wish to see him dead where he stood.

“You had come looking for me, have you not? Sorry to disappoint you once again, but I am the Warrior of Light and the Warrior of Light is me.”

A’yana Salvia, the Warrior of Light…

Standing from his chair, he excuses himself, not allowing himself to head to his rooms straightaway. While sleep was tempting, if only to spare him from the boredom of the waking hours, he had something to occupy his time if only for a little while.

He walks the halls until he reaches a door, punching in the code to unlock the latch to allow him inside. Behind the door was an office, nearly as opulent as his own back home in Garlemald, filled with all manner of books and files and maps. Upon the desk was a neat stack of paper, along with a single book, bound in leather with gold trim.

Nearing the desk he sits himself in the high backed chair accompanying it, leaning back for a bit of comfort as he takes the documents in hand and reads the note on the first page.

A Brief History of the Warrior of Light, A’yana Salvia

At his request had his men been tasked with finding out as much about the Warrior of Light as possible, from the time of her birth to what she liked to eat for dinner. He was if anything thorough, and he had failed his own standards by not being able to connect her title with the Miqo’te woman herself. He would not make that mistake again.

Flipping the page, he is surprised to find there is little known about the details of her birth. The report goes on to say how there were no official records or reports or even hearsay of her birth, no ties back to any childhood homes. Even her parents were a mystery. Despite his best efforts to remain impartial, he couldn’t help but sit a little straighter, intrigued by the concept of a hero who came from nothing, but not in the traditional sense.

To anyone who tried to delve into her origins, they would find nothing. Even nomads, even beggars of savage city-states had some history and telling of their beginnings, and yet…

A’yana Salvia had none.

And not for lack of trying, either. The report goes on to say that others have attempted to dig deeper into her past, but no one, not even those known to be close to her know of her origins. It is said that she had almost seemed to appear from the mists, an adult ready to explore the world when she had been discovered by the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to come together to orchestrate Baelsar’s defeat.

It was all rather peculiar, that someone of such power had so little known about their life, save for their deeds as the hero. Enough deeds, that someone had deigned to write an entire book practically detailing her accomplishments.

The Dragonsong War, by Count Edmont Fortemps lays on the desk still, its leather staring back at him unassumingly. Cutting his eyes back to the report, he flips through the pages, seeing more information he had known already in addition to whatever his men could scrounge up. He had already heard the Garlean side of Baelsar’s defeat, but the report managed to dig up a few more details, such as her befriending of the traitor, Cid nan Garlond.

Done with the report, he picks up the tome, flipping through the first few pages that details the author’s early life. His years as a child were oft spent in between the shelves of the royal library, the princeling easily gaining the ability to scan through tome for information he sought.

Reaching the beginning of the retelling, some of the words begin to jog his memory. He had heard of the first brood. Heard of the terrifying power of Midgardsormr and his equally terrifying children from books about the fall of Agrius. The war of a thousand years waged by one of the dragon’s sons, fueled by nothing but his hatred for mortals. He had not seen such a beast himself, but he knew that the stories were true that despite not holding their sire's power, the first brood were still magnificent in their own right.

And she had slain him, this Nidhogg.

The Warrior of Light was lucky, yes, but there was no denying her power.

How could such potential be housed in such a small frame, such gifts be given to someone so... unworthy?

Part of him whispered that she was not as unworthy as he thought. The slowly fading scar on his neck attested to that.

It had been years since he sustained such an injury, his fingers constantly drifting to his neck anytime glanced at himself in a mirror. It had long since healed, the scarring not an angry red, but pale and silvery, as if dust from the moon itself had been imbued in her magic.

His eyelids fall close as he relives the rush of pain, the rush of feeling his blood well up into tiny pebbles at the small cut on his skin. He was strong enough to withstand her magic without difficulty, but even the discomfort it gave told him that the average man would find it nigh unbearable.

Their gap in power was not as large as it first seemed. Unlike him she lacked training, lacked control.

Somehow that was part of his unintentional obsession. He had built himself from the ground up with power, doing all he could to become a better hunter. The prestigious prince who had the best instructors in the land brought to his home to teach him, versus the feline warrior from shrouded origins with nothing but a blessing and luck to her name.

It was almost laughable really, and yet he found himself more intrigued than he cared to admit. He continues to flip through the pages, eyes dragging across the Ishgardian cursive script with the barest hint of detachment, his eyes steadily drifting closed.

He's dreaming again.

The usual warmth surrounds him, melding into his bones in a way that is frighteningly comforting. It has always been like this, yet only now does he consciously realize it is so.

It feels akin to--

The feeling of her in his arms--

"Thinking of someone?"

The dreamspace shifts and coalesces into another dense forest, though this time it is dark and moonlight drifts through the trees. His friend is behind him, their presence still formless and yet not, their energy seeming much looser and not all there.

"Why would you draw such a conclusion?" He asks, brows furrowed, not even bothering to turn to face what is not there.

"That woman," they begin, "the Warrior of Light. Was she not in your thoughts?"

He remains silent gazing up at the moon. It's milky surface stares back at him, shining brightly and illuminating the depths of his soul. He closes his eyes and allows himself to bask in its glow, the strange sense of comfort drifting across him again.

A minute passes before he realizes he's not given an answer. "Yes."

He hears tinkling sounds behind him, but still he does not turn to face them. "I like her."

Frowning, he responds in monotone. "That makes one of us."

Silence sits between both of them for another beat. "Do you feel nothing when you look in her eyes?"

He does whirl on them then glaring at their misty form. "I thought we already discussed this." he growls.

“Discussed what?” They question nonchalantly.

“Discussed this...soulmate nonsense--” he grounds out, glaring harder as their tinkling laughter surrounds him and their form solidifies a little more. “And what is so amusing?” he snaps, crossing his arms across his chest. “Do you find my innermost thoughts a source of entertainment?”

Though they don't have the form to manage it, even he can sense them shrugging nonchalantly. "I have only ever wanted you to be happy Zenos."

His lips move to form the words that he is happy, but he cannot bring himself to state such a blatant lie. Not to himself, not to his friend, because whether he liked it or not, they always found out the truth.

“And how would she make me happy?” he questions, regaining a little more composure. “She is weak. Untrained. She is used to having her equally weak companions throw her at whatever god arises and vanquishing it with raw power and sheer luck.” he scoffs, lip curling at the thought. “How could such a weakling make me happy?”

“You question how she could make you happy, yet you have spared her twice.” They respond, not at all bothered by his lofty tone.

Wrinkling his nose, he turns away from them again, trailing off into the forest. “A mistake I will soon rectify when next we meet.”

“Did she not say herself that you have caught her out of her element?” They press on, following behind him at a safe distance.

“What good is someone incapable of fighting on any battleground?” Zenos asks, uncaring as water from the creek soaks his pants leg. “Either she will prove that she is the challenge I seek when next we meet, or she shall die by my hand.”

His friend giggles behind them then, and he can’t help but turn once more to see their form a bit more solid. Were they always so much smaller than him? “And just what is it that you find so humorous?” He grumbles, sighing as the breeze caresses his skin.

“If only you could see it yourself, Zenos.” They giggle, their laughter like the tinkling of bells. “Try as you might, you're more invested than you let on.”

Frowning, Zenos finds that that thought resonates with him a bit more than he’d like. “You have known me this long. Am I anything other than thorough?” He asks, coming to a stop as he gazes out at the greenery before him.

“You are right, I have known you this long. Long enough to know when you are nearly obsessed. Long enough to know you thirst for more.” They echo, the dreamscape once again fading, his friend’s voice drifting away as it becomes indiscernible from the wind whispering through the trees.

Blinking away sleep, moonlight pours through the window, signaling he had been sleeping for quite some time. Shifting to a standing position, rolls his shoulders, preparing to retire for the night until he sees some of the Kugane guards running about in the streets.

Drifting closer to the window, he watches their paper lanterns light their path as they scuttle along, their voices muffled but Zenos can gather enough of what is going on. They seem to be trying to apprehend someone.

No longer interested, he prepares to turn away until a particular group’s conversation is loud enough to drift up to him.

Scions of the Seventh Dawn…

Garlean traitors…

The Warrior of Light--

His feet have carried him out of the office and toward the main entrance before he can even stop himself to ask what he’s doing. His soldiers question him, but he only feels his lips form the orders to not follow him if they wish to remain living. Grabbing a single sword, he stalks out into the night, noting that the guards have moved further into the city.

His hair trails behind him as he makes his way to where the general populace of Kugane resides, sticking close to the alleys as he keeps track of the guard’s movements through the streets. They are rather disorganized, and already he has spotted the two women the warrior calls her friends sneaking through the city to their destination. He does not doubt the Warrior of Light is far behind, taking the backstreets to keep a low profile. While not in his full regalia, there was nothing else he could be but the prince, and any guard that did happen to spot him wisely overlooked his presence.

It would also not do to have the woman know he was out looking for her as well. She’s doing a surprisingly good job of hiding from him; surely he would have spotted her at least once by now.

He keeps up his search until a group of guards begins shouting, their exclamations turned into coughs as a cloud of smoke erupts in the city street. Hurried footsteps barrel toward him and with all the grace of a predator does he reach out and snag the would be intruder, dragging them into the shadows as the smoke clears. They struggle against him but go still as the guards begin searching the area, failing to notice the two huddled together under a dark alcove.

As the sounds grow quieter, they renew their struggle, prompting Zenos to let them go.

“What are you doing?!” The Warrior of Light hisses, fangs catching the faintest bit of moonlight, sapphire eyes gleaming up at him in the darkness.

“Protecting my investment.” He responds dryly, watching as that riles her further.

“Your investment?!” She whispers harshly, looking as if she would love nothing more than to raise her voice.

“Letting you live was not without cost. Until I duel you under more...favorable circumstances, then it would be in my best interest to make sure no misfortune befalls you.” He sighs, watching as her eyes go wide with shock before narrowing once again.

“I did not need your help!” She growls, preparing to leave, but he blocks her path.

“I am inclined to disagree.” He purrs, unable to keep himself from poking the hot embers before him, in hopes that he’ll be burned. “Kugane may be a state of neutrality, but even they know that they must bow to the emperor, or risk their way of life being upset.” He hums, watching the gears turn in her head. “I would hate to bring attention to your location, or worse, your friends who I saw pass by earlier…” he trails off, unable to keep amusement from suffusing his words.

Her expression steels immediately.

Ah...there it is.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She whispers, the sound so sinister and low that he can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine.

“Would I?” he goads, eyes darting to how she flexes her claws. “While I have endeavored to occupy my time with more important matters, I find you have too many mysteries surrounding you for my curiosity to ignore.” He continues, watching an unreadable expression pass through her eyes. “Answer my questions truthfully, and I will allow you to return to your friends. Refuse…”

“Right, right, ask your stupid questions.” She snaps, crossing her arms across her chest.

He had expected more arguing from her, but he’s pleased to see that she is at least practical. “The first: why are you running?”

His eyes have adjusted to the darkness sometime ago, able to see her tail give an angry flick. “My friends and I were looking for a comrade of ours. Unfortunately we trusted a stupid fish who tried to turn us into your soldiers.” She grumbles, ears flicking to and fro as if still listening for guards.

“A comrade? For what purpose?” He continues on, unconsciously taking a step toward her. The alley is narrow and already one step has him nearly looming over her.

“To liberate Doma, what else?” She retorts, not at all afraid of him.

“You mean to free Doma?” He laughs, taking another step closer. She does take a step back then, though he can tell it is not from fear. Her eyes have not left his, fierce and unafraid. “While I applaud your ambition, I believe I have shown you twice now where standing against me will bring you.” He rumbles, voice thrumming in his chest. “What primal will your friends throw you at next, little Warrior? What tasks will they place upon you to bear alone?” He presses on, smirking all the while. “I have heard of Eorzea’s Savior, though a more aptly named title would be...Eorzea’s Errand Girl. Barring she is not killed first.”

“You…” she seethes, not even flinching as he backs her against a wall. He stands tall above her then, but she does not tremble, does not shake even though most people cower in his presence, his proximity notwithstanding. Even in the dark he can see the slits of her eyes have widened to let in more light, giving her superior vision in the night. Her fangs capture his attention with how sharp they actually are, but most of all…

It is the rage he feels from her that makes him shudder.

“Is this all you sought me out for? To insult me and make me question how my friends care for me?” She huffs, standing her ground.

“I have asked questions, but not made you question anything, Warrior of Light.” he chuckles, her title sounding like silk on his tongue. “I am merely curious about your endeavors, as any enemy would be. Is that so wrong?” He taunts, hoping for another violent reaction, but his smirk fades as a determination enters her eyes, one that stills his breath.

“You will listen and listen well, Garlean.” She hisses, reaching for his hair and yanking him down, the movement surprising him so thoroughly, his brain is still struggling to catch up. Never had anyone dare to take such liberties with his person. Even the servants whose job was solely to take care of his hair asked for permission to do their job.

That his body almost moves at her will, bringing him face to face with her so that she can glare at him from her level, sets something alight within him. A burn he had not felt his whole life. In this moment his entire being is tuned into her, tuned into the quiet conviction in her eyes.

“You may insult me all you like, but I will not allow you to insult my friends. Yes, they may be unable to fight a majority of battles without my help, but it is help I give gladly, it is help I give willingly.” She seethes, his eyes paying close attention to how the curl of her lip keeps her fangs displayed, almost as if in reminder of how she could sink them in his throat. The thought makes him shiver with an unnamed emotion. “As I had informed you at my capture, I don’t have time to play with a spoiled prince. My friends need my help and if it means giving up my life to help them, then so be it.” She growls, giving his hair one more tug and it goes straight to his groin.

“Now, you will be letting me go, without any fuss.” She demands, and just like that, he can see it.

The Warrior of Light in all of her glory.

She releases his hair, but he makes no moves to stand back to full height quite yet, still staring at her in muted wonder. She stares back until confusion slowly seeps into her gaze, unsure for why he has remained silent for so long. Silence continues to stretch between them, until her impatience finally gets the better of her. “Are you quite done staring? You are more than welcome to have me come sit in for a portrait if you so wish. I don’t have time to stand here with you gawking at me.”

Eyelids fluttering closed, he releases a single chuckle, standing back to full height as his hand absentmindedly runs across the strands of hair she had abused but moments before. Once he opens his eyes, she gasps, unsure what she sees there, but caring little.

If she had wanted him to leave her alone, there was no way he was doing so now.

“Very well, Warrior of Light.” he hums, stepping from her personal space. Giving her a forceful shove into a dark corner in the alley, not giving her time to complain as he calls out into the night. “Guards!”

He can hear her go stock still behind him, quiet as a mouse as nearby guards rush over to him.

“Lord Zenos!” they exclaim, bowing profusely in his presence. “How may we assist you?”

Glancing down the street, he remembers what direction her friends were heading before speaking once more. “While I am loath to help you bumbling savages...I would rather not have my rest interrupted by you shouting all over the district. While unsure of your targets, I last saw a suspicious group of people head south west of here.” Resting his hand on his sword, he can hear them all audibly swallow. “I would also suggest you be quick about it. I would like the district clear by the time I arrive at the Embassy to rest.”

“O-Of course, my lord!” they hastily bow, rushing down the streets like their lives depended on it. Turning to speak with the Warrior of Light, she stares back at him almost equally mystified, though her skepticism is clear on her face.

“As I had informed you earlier...I must protect my investments.” He grins, lips pulling into a genuine smile that stuns her even further. “Run free, Warrior of Light. Our next meeting may be sooner than you think.”

She shoots him a distrustful glare without hesitation, pushing past him as if he were just another man and not her sole enemy. The change is so refreshing he cannot find it in himself to even think of punishing her for her disrespect. To do so would be counterproductive.

“Oh, my wild, untamed beast…” he purrs to himself as he watches her hurry to her destination, skirts trailing behind her as she disappears into the night. “There is no escaping me now.”

When he returns to the Garlean embassy it is with purpose, his men nearly jumping out their skin at the look in his eye as he begins rattling off orders. His father hasn’t approved any action to march on the savages in Gyr Abania, giving him a copious amount of free time to do as he wished. If his father really did begin to ask after him, he could always feign that he was putting the Doman wench in line; which would not be far from the truth. She had failed him by letting the Warrior of Light reclaim the Ruby Sea, and yet he cannot be too harsh on her.

She had brought him a challenge after all.

When morning comes, he feels a drive he had not felt since he was a boy. A zest for life that was blooming within his chest, barely able to contain the sheer joy he felt. It was not hard to arrange for his entourage to prepare him a vessel to depart for Doma the next morning. Using the information he had gleaned from the Warrior of Light the night prior, he was walking the halls of the dilapidated castle in no time at all.

The Doman woman kneels before him, subservient as the rest. Her hatred had intrigued him before; it was why he had seen fit to ascend her to a position that allowed the subjugation of her own people. But looking in her eyes now, all he can feel is disappointment.

Blue, feline eyes glare back at him in his mind’s eye, and a rush of heat runs through him.

“Have you anything to say for yourself?” he questions, not even deigning to stand up. Prostrated before him, he is glad she does not tremble before him at least, but the lack of defiance is rather uninspiring.

“Nay, my lord.” she replies, not even bothering to look at him to give her answer.

Rolling his eyes, he studies her for a moment longer. “Tell me then, in detail just how you failed me. Have you not heard of the Warrior of Light? Is your network so under utilized that you could not quash a rebellion well before it started?”

She flinches under his criticism, and remains kneeling before him. “I had not, my lord.” she answers, throat tight. “She was like a storm; a typhoon, making landfall before you could even do anything about it.” She does rise up to look at him then, most likely in hopes that he will see how sorry she is. “She had rallied the Confederacy so quickly, and I had tried to stop her...but suddenly those Kojin...she had slain a god.”

His eyebrows raise as she sounds almost stupefied, as if trying to make sense of how it all went wrong so fast. “It was as if the fear of the empire no longer mattered. Her and her friends had organized and planned, she had instilled the people with a will that even the empire could not suppress. She is formidable, my lord.” she finishes, and her words make him think.

The conviction he saw within her eyes, a will not easily broken. That even as he stood before her, out of her element, her life in his hands by the prospect of her being in his presence alone…

It was this will that inspired the masses to rebel as he had hoped the Doman woman could do.

Begrudgingly he had to admit that she knew how to inspire the masses. She accomplished in days what the woman couldn’t even accomplish after several moons and imperial forces at her disposal.

It was also clear that between her and her two comrades, she was not the strategist. He would not go as far as to insult her intelligence, but there was no denying that just as his presence evoked fear, hers inspired hope. He doubted she gave speeches, doubted she gave orders. Simply by existing she was an inspiration, a morale booster of the highest caliber.

He can’t stop himself from smirking, even if the action makes the woman before him fear for her life. He envisions those fierce blue eyes again, whispering her name on his lips.

“The Warrior of Light, A’yana Salvia…”

Her name on his lips tastes heavenly.

As much as she warned him to stay away, to threaten his life in the hopes he would take heed to her promises…

It only made him yearn for their battle more. Without trying, his prey had gotten snared in his trap--

And he would not suffer to let it go.

[soulsdontbreaktheybeeend]

You live to empty my lungs. Part 6 (Final Part) | Joker x You

Summary: A reunion which doesn’t let you decide between pain, desire, fear and lust.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Words: 3,212 | Smut

A/N: It felt like forever to write this, phew! Since this is the last part of my litte story, I wanted to thank everyone of you guys, who liked/commented so lovely on the previous parts. You really have no idea how much that means to me! It’s such an amazing feeling to see you enjoy reading it! Love you all so much♥ Also,  enough with the cliffhangers! Unless...?

Had the Clown Prince of Crime just admitted to be scared to death? By the thought of losing you?

He had.

 Your mind tried to process the words that had flowed out of his mouth. The intension to do so was doomed by failure. The encounter in the park got you so rattled and in turmoil that until now, you were not aware of the weight of the fact that he is truly back. The ground in the park seemed to swallow you up and held you in shock, whereas the present realization pulled the ground from under your feet. How many hours and days did you spend wishing for nothing more than that? That he would come back. Hours and days that felt like eternity itself when you realized that even after countless pleas to the universe, he wasn't.

Now he was, and he was standing just a few feet away from you. With the realization that you had become aware of, a greed and lust flared up in you that had built up over this eternity of pleas that had seemed so hopeless for so long and now came to the point of a tremendous inflammation.

Joker stood sideways slightly turned away from you as you approached him determinedly. Your hands rose and grabbed the collar of his jacket tightly to pull him eagerly towards you. Your lips pressed hungrily against his. That you hadn't heard the end of his confession yet, you didn't even realize. There was no stopping you now and you let your heart take control of your head. It felt like you had to make up for all the time you had missed during his absence. Your senses shut off as your tongues intertwined in a oh so sensual dance you were sure stopped the time. The silence in the living room was filled with deep groans which rocked each other high.

Joker was reticent at first, disbelieving and taken by surprise by your drive, but as soon as he put his arms around you and felt your naked back under his palms, he too, fell into lust. Into lust, that had also accumulated in him through all this time.

He pressed you close to him, his hands repeatedly stroked your naked back from bottom to top. First his fingers clawed into your shoulder blades up to your neck before he let you feel his fingertips scratching down your back. The red streaks you earned from the fridge earlier, now replaced by those hands that had a power over you that no one else could ever bestow you. Noticing that you were not wearing any underwear when his hands passed through the opening of the dress down to your bottom, he grabbed there firmly and pressed you to his growing erection, earning a whimper from you as you felt his member press against you.

The sensation of his hands all over you made you bury your fingers in his greasy hair and claw wildly up to his scalp. Your firm grip there drew his head back a bit, making you chase his lips even hungrier. Both your heads tilted from side to side while your open-mouthed kisses were marked by panting.

You always found sweetness in the taste of his grease paint in line with his cigarette breath. Your attempted distractions with other men to satisfy your cravings and to ease your anger did not come anywhere near the incomparable experience and perfection that Joker's touch triggered inside you. His scent and the warmth of his tongue on yours, as well as his hands on your body, revealed a belonging in you that you did not expect to feel again. With this statement, you were fully embracing him.

Your desire for more, for a reunion of integrity, carried the two of you towards your bedroom. The small vase on your dresser bit the dust when you knocked over some decorations in your carelessness about everything else in this world, when only Joker and you existed in this moment. The moment you walked him to the edge of the bed, even this world stopped for a moment. He pulled away to catch his breath. You were grateful for it, you needed it too, but the dark look in his eyes took it right away again.

Joker tilted his head, a look full of affection adorned his face as he stroked a strand of your hair behind you ear. His hand remained on your cheek and you put yours on top of it, sinking into his touch. The gap between you closed again when your movement caused his knees to give way and he fell backwards onto your bed. You crawled into bed with him, onto him. His legs found room between yours as you kneeled over him. You arched your curves as you lowered your upper body to reunite your lips after glances of desire. Joker felt your breasts pressed against his chest, as he moaned into the sensual deep kisses and his hands immediately found the soft skin of your back underneath them.

His touch causing you to lose control, your whole body snuggled up against him. Your lower belly rubbed against his length in the movement, causing both of you to moan in appetite for more.

You supported yourself on your elbows while one of your hands found its natural way back into his hair. Your other hand lay against his cheek as you pulled away slightly. The light from the living room created a dimmed atmosphere in combination with the one from the street lamps that cast their rays through the window into your bedroom. You stared from his dark shimmering eyes down to his lips, his make-up already smeared. Your thumb caressed his exposed scar before it slid down to his lower lip. With a little pressure you stroked over it to pull his lip down. You could feel his hardened length twitch while in arousal his mouth fell agape as he watched your eyes fix his lips.

You couldn't keep your lips off his for long. Too much had you missed the feeling and the taste of them. They felt so good against yours after all this time. The warmth of the inside of his mouth, feeling his hands on your curves and hearing his longing moans which you loved so dearly, warmed your body from the inside like those treasured first sunbeams did after a long icy winter.

Joker placed his strong arm firmly around your lower back and carefully swung you around. Hair that fell into your face, he stroked lovingly from your face. His hard length pressed against your thigh when he leaned against you. You moaned softly at the contact, while you lost yourself in his eyes.

   It has never left you cold to see what you were obviously able to do to him. Before Joker, you had never felt such a sense of belonging to someone, mentally and physically. Knowing that he, the Joker, always felt the same for you always made you feel special. Not in the aspects where it might have seemed special on the outside. To enjoy the power, the attention, and the reverence of others. No, it was much more what all the others never got to see. His true self. The man who only dared show you his vulnerable side. You had stripped him down, and he had let you do so.

But it had also been the other way around.

Before Joker, when you spent most of your time alone or at least unrelated, you had unintentionally built walls of independence around you that seemed to grow over your head from time to time. When you have been responsible for yourself for such a long time and start to get along well, it grew difficult to let anyone get close to you emotionally. To reveal the depths of your innermost self, down to the last corners, where even you hardly dared to enter, became unimaginable for you. Until Joker came into your life. And oh, did you have these cloud-high walls the both of you had built, teared down to the ground and deeper at a rapid pace.

  Somewhere in the depths of his eyes you dived down until you were abruptly trapped. Darkness encircled you, pushed closer and threatened to drown you.

When you became aware of the reality of Joker's wordless disappearance, these very walls were quickly rebuilt and thicker than ever before. And yet not thick enough, because the moment your eyes met in the park, they immediately tumbled down again. That was what made you so angry at yourself most of the time. That he could still make you so vulnerable after all this time. You swore you'd never let those walls fall to the ground again. And yet it happened. And they did it with a lightness that terrified you to your core.

Your lungs constricted at the thought and just before he leaned in to caress your lips with his own, you put up your arm to the small space between the two of you, pushing him away.

“I can’t.” You breathed. You sounded so small and helpless, you hated it.

You turned around to sit up at the edge of the foot of the bed, one hand running through your hair while the other covered the anxious features of your face. “I can’t. You should leave.”

 Joker leaned on his elbow, just as you had left him. A worried and hurt look graced his face as he remained rigidly in his position. Everything was so beautiful just now, as beautiful as he had only been able to dream of for the last months. A frenzy which he never wanted to abate again. Every inch you moved away from him made him suffocate more.

The mattress gave in when he set off to crawl to you. Part of you had hoped he would just get up and go, while the other wished he would take you in his arms and never let go.

You certainly felt him coming closer. His inner thighs pressed against your outer ones as he positioned himself behind you. The edges of his blazer tickled your bare back before the soft fabric of his yellow vest pressed against it. You couldn’t help but savour the feeling of it. An arm circled slowly around your upper body to the hand that still hid your face. When it touched you, you grabbed it and led it away from you.

“Please leave.”

But if Joker had learned one thing about himself and therefore about you, it was that he shouldn't be doing exactly that at this point. Not after he had seen the walls fall behind your eyes, again. Not after you kissed him like your life depended on it minutes ago. Instead, he carefully grabbed your hand and led it up to your shoulder to receive it there with his warm lips. You automatically lilted your head slightly to the side and your eyes closed under the comfort of the sensuality of his touch.

You tried your best to keep your tears down when you said, "How can I be sure you won't be gone when I wake up tomorrow? Or the day after? Or the day after that? How can I sleep at night with the fear that you-"

Joker didn't let you finish expressing your biggest fear. His other arm reached around you, putting his index finger on your lips to shush you. Your lips spread, by him interrupting you as you spoke, your hot breath against his finger while you could still feel his against your knuckles. Your eyes closed and memories shot into your head that made you feel so secure. He flattened his palm against your soft cheek. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, as he finally answered your questions.

“The man who threatened to hurt you,” he started, while he still avoided to speak ‘kill’ out loud, “will no longer be a threat. I spent my last year covertly hatching a plan with my men to take him down. The night before we met at the park, we succeeded. We've done it so secretly that not even the police know about it yet.” You shivered at his softly spoken words against your neck.

The hand on your shoulder pulled away from yours. Joker reached into the pocket of his red blazer before he put both of his hands in your lap, holding the polaroid between his worn fingers. In all the turmoil you had completely forgotten that you had left it on the sofa. Your breath faltered when you saw it in his hands in front of you. He looked over your shoulder from behind. His eyes followed your hands, which you carefully placed over his. Your thumbs gently brushed across his rough skin.

“One phone call from me to my men and they will reveal who has done it and most importantly why. No one will ever again allow themselves to even think about searching for your identity.”

“Maybe that's the wrong way to think.” You told him, as you carefully took the polaroid out of his hands and reached for the dresser next to you to lay it down. Joker put his arms tight around your stomach, he couldn't quite understand your thinking. His words still lingered in your head before they finally settled down. Realizing you trusted his words, but did you really want to go on living like this? The fear would still not let you go completely and lurk somewhere in a corner of your mind until one evening he would be on the move longer than planned.

“My point is, that perhaps it would be better if we took the offensive instead.” You elaborated, fully aware of all consequences.

“Which would also mean that the whole city would know that you belong to me, y/n. Including your workplace, and so on.” Joker replied in disbelief with a hint of proudness to your words.

If you were honest with yourself, you couldn't have imagined anything more appealing. Your life had been so boring and tiring the last few months, it’s been coming out of your ears. The thought of finally experiencing something exciting again, having no limits and above all not having to leave Joker's side, no more playing hide and seek, was what spurred you on most. May the whole town, the whole world know that you belong to him.

You smiled to yourself and thought back to the moment you sat down at the bench at your favorite spot in the park, as you thought the next few days wouldn’t be easy on you. Although you couldn't have known then that your unemployment would end so surprisingly quick and that you might get into the sleazy business with the Joker instead.

“Well, you’re lucky. I got fired anyway.” You said dryly.

Joker formed the beginning of a counter-question on his tongue as you turned to the side and put your finger on his lips.

"Enough talking. I need to feel you.” Your words sent shivers down his spine and so did his next touch on you as well.

His fingertips slid ever so slowly over your shoulders and pulled the straps of your silky dress down your arms, causing the dress to find its way down to your hips, exposing your torso. Slowly he let the back of his hands slide along both of your ribs to the curve of your hip. He leaned back slightly to track his hands on you and watch your movements responding to his touches on you. He pressed himself tightly against you again, before he reached and massaged your breasts delicately. His touches indulged your senses. He made room at the crook of his neck as he felt your head to fall back in delight. The slit of your dress that presented most of your right leg jumped into his eyes. He grabbed the backs of both of your knees, lifted them and pulled them outwards over his knees, taking control of spreading your legs with his own. His hand landed on your knee before it moved up dangerously slow along the inside of your thigh, while he suckled on your earlobe and kissed the sensitive skin beneath it.

With every inch he touched you more, heat rose inside you, which found its way out as dampness between your legs. He remembered every erogenous zone and knew exactly where to touch you to turn you into a moaning mess.

His hand reached the sweet spot between your legs before you raised your arm and reached back into his green locks. Your firm grip pressed him closer to you, making his moist kisses on your neck and shoulders greedier. His erection pressed keenly against his slacks and your lower back, as he spread his legs wider, doing the same to yours. The movement in combination with your dress resulted in a slightly cool wind against your slick folds that made you flinch. Your free hand crawled into the blanket beside you, as his fingers started to explore your wetness.

“Oh god, I’ve missed you so much.” You barely managed to mumble. You could hear him purr against your soft skin in respond to the feeling.

As much as you relished his touch, you were overcome by the feeling of having to touch him too. You grabbed his hand and swung your legs over his to get up. You turned back to Joker and he looked at you with hungry eyes as your dress slipped off your hips and kissed the floor. He took off his blazer and vest, unbuttoned his shirt and slid further onto the bed, leaned back and supported himself on his elbows. Then you crawled back to bed and between his legs. Your hands brushed across his bare chest, removing the sides of his unbuttoned shirt. You stared deeply into his captivating green eyes to find the same desire staring back at yours. While he put his thumb on your lower lip, playing with it, you couldn’t restrain yourself. Slowly you began to lick his finger from bottom to tip, looking him directly in the eyes. He groaned deep in his throat as his gaze filled with lust, fixed on your swirling tongue. Straddling him, you sucked his thumb fully into your wet hot mouth, causing him to hold in his breath. Your seductive eyes watched his facial expressions closely, as you felt his cock twitch against your lower belly. You sucked a little harder on his thumb before releasing it with a sensual kiss on the tip while you never took your eyes off his. He exhaled long, releasing the breath he had held in.

“You know, you live to empty my lungs?” His voice filled with lust and devotion.

“And I live to guess your sorrow."

You grabbed firmly for his painfully hard cock through the fabric of his red slacks, lowering your body onto his as he wrapped his arms around you while drawing you into an invigorating kiss which  had you longing for an unforgettable night and a beginning of a new life the morning after.

 ♥ @sweet-nothings04 @pcrushinnerd @obsessedandthirsty @illusionsinmyhead @hhandley80 @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @ithinkimawriter @jokers-doll @lynnesm @fleckcmscott @duhliriouss @call-me-harley-quinn @life-or-something-like-lt

[bubbletimestories]

Once upon a cruel winter (Vampire!Bucky/Reader)

Summary: James "Bucky" Barnes intends to ask for the hand of his childhood friend, Reader. To be worthy, he must leave for a while, but promises to return soon. When love makes you impatient, blood always flows and a quiet love story can become a tragedy. Fortunately, time heals wounds and you sometimes have to accept putting yourself in danger to taste real happiness.

Warnings: blood, death (?), sadness, happy ending

Themes:  love, vampire, memories, new life, proposal

A/N. Translated with Google trad ^^’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25338478 (eng)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25338385 (fr)

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

1904. Germany.

Tossed on all sides on the paved path, you hang on to your hat, trying not to gasp too much. This car of doom is likely to cost you your life by backfiring, spitting thick black smoke at anyone who dares to be behind. Absolutely not embarrassed, the driver gives you an amused smile while slowing down to park, removing his thick protective glasses with the proud air of the one who adores his machine.

- So what do you think? It looks good, doesn't it? - Bucky…

Before his delighted look, you dare not tell him how much you hated this short trip. Truth be told, you don't need it, your greenish complexion from being so shaken speaks for itself and your friend apologizes flatly when he stops the car.

"Okay, it needs some repairs, but I assure you that in a while you will feel like you are on a cloud. "

The young man opens the door for you and reaches out to help you down, his hands firmly on the sides of your waist to lift you up with ease. Maybe it was growing up on a farm but he never seems to be pained to carry you and yet you are not a twig. As always, the same blush passes over your cheeks as your body slides against his to reach land. You've known each other for years, but you both understand that something stronger than a simple friendship now binds you. You're dying to touch his lips with yours, to regain his warmth but on the sidewalk, in the middle of passersby, it would not be appropriate. The city streets offer no discretion compared to hay bales.

- Miss Y/N… - Mr. Barnes…

James offers his arm to lead you through the park, adjusting his hat with one hand and continuing to smile. He can't help but be happy in your company, even if the subject he needs to address is not easy. As you take a leisurely stroll amidst well-kept lawns, he starts:

- Y/N… you and I have known each other almost since our birth. I could not imagine a better friend and I would entrust my life to you. - I... me too, James. There is no one I trust more.

You’re worried about your companion’s serious tone, but you cannot tell if the lump in your stomach is apprehensive or aroused. When the young man takes your hand, your heart misses a beat and you hold your breath, unsure of what he is trying to say to you. Caressing your fingers that he knows stained with paint through the fine white fabric, James searches his words carefully. This moment had to come, you both have thought more than once but it all suddenly becomes real. Blue eyes avoid you for a moment before James regains courage and decides to look at you, straightening up with almost solemn seriousness even if his features still express the same warmth.

- We are still young and I know you have no plans yet to start a home or become a housewife but... Y/N, I would like to ask for your hand. - Bucky…

You miss the words, as well as the breath, and you half sag against your friend by not daring to believe what you hear. You’ve dreamed that he’s been asking you for a while now and there he’s, announcing very seriously that he intends to marry you. This is a dream. However, you sense that there is something else and you dare not let your joy burst, not right now. Besides, James continues hugging you, guiding your steps to a bench where he makes you sit.

"I love you, Y/N, more than anything in the world and I want to marry you but I want to do that in the rules. Before making you my wife, I want to show that I am worthy of you, so I'm going to leave for a while in the East to help my father and complete a project that should save us from need. If this trip goes as I wish, I could stand in front of your mother with my head held high and ask for your hand. "

Kneeling before you, the young man watches the emotions pass over your face: surprise, joy, confusion, sadness. You hardly have time to rejoice that already he announces his departure and you cannot change anything. Even if you understand his motives well, the idea that he can leave you for an indefinite time bother you and you bite your lip while looking down. Bucky gently slides your glove to expose your left hand and slip a simple ring on top of it with a finely cut stone. The ring seems very cold compared to the heat of his fingers but it shines like the eyes of your lover and you smile.

"Okay ... I understand, you have to go. But promise me to write often and come back as soon as possible. "

Without paying attention to curious or shocked looks, you hug each other and let James drop a brief kiss on your lips, chaste but full of promise for the future, your future. It is promised, he will send you a letter every day if he can and he will make sure that he does not leave for more than a month, maybe two. The next day, he packs his bags for the East, leaving you behind, alone and impatient. Unable to show your ring or speak to your mother about your promise, you occupy your time as best as you can, scribbling sketch on sketch, watching for a new letter from your lover every day. Unfortunately, despite all your good will, impatience is gradually starting to gnaw at you and you slip into your missives how much you miss your friend. How to blame you, you are young, secretly engaged. Finally, several weeks after your separation, you decide to leave to join him or at least, to get closer to him. Without notifying anyone, you leave your small room and go on an adventure, your heart pounding. You briefly warned him of your arrival and even made an appointment with him after dark in a small wood nearby. This project is totally crazy but so romantic and you can't wait to find the one who never leaves your thoughts.

How can I describe the mixture of shock and joy that seizes James by reading your last letter, learning that you set out on your own on the roads to see him. Impatient but above all worried, he shows up an hour early, fearing he'll never see you arrive, thinking of all the dangers a young girl can run alone. Fortunately, you arrive safely and throw yourself into his arms laughing, letting him spin around and kiss you until you both run out of breath.

- You are totally crazy for coming here! - I wanted to see you, I missed you too much. - Tomorrow, I’ll put you on the first train, your mother must be mad with anxiety.

You’ll probably be scolded like never before but for now, you don’t really care, too happy to be with Bucky. You hug against him with a sigh of comfort, letting him guide you on a night stroll. The young man thinks that he will have to give you his bed tonight, that he will have to wake up early to get on the first train, but he is above all lost in happiness. You risked everything to join him, what better proof of love could you offer him? You chat happily, your bodies glued together and sharing the same heat. He tells you that his project is progressing well and that he will soon be back in town to ask you to marry properly, you will finally be able to unite before God.

A sardonic laugh resounds between the trees, as if the wind itself was making fun of you at night. In the shadows, two sparkling red eyes are watching you, the creature licking its drooling lips. A cloud passes over the silver moon, obscuring the landscape in shadow. It doesn't take more for the hungry being to pounce on you with a sadistic growl because it is not so much a rabid beast than a terror-thirsty monster. What could be better than a lovely couple to feed on? The long, sharp nails close on your dress, tearing it apart making you fall to drag you on the floor. The abomination hesitates, should it first open your throat or shred your lover? The prospect of your blood spilling excites it and a groan of anticipation escapes from its throat as it hits James hard in the face. Maybe cutting off his hocks will prevent him from joining you or running away and then the vampire can eat you two for a long time, all night long.

A piece of wood explodes against the back of the monster which turns in your direction, contemplating for a brief moment your face reddened by cold and anger while you are still holding the end of a log. With no weapons at hand, you did your best to divert the creature's attention and save your lover, how adorable. Right, you will be the first to shed your blood. The heavy body of the beast crashes on you while the agile fingers undo the buttons of your collar with excruciating care, too meticulous compared to the violence of its attack. The vampire exposes your throat, wondering if biting your breast would not be fun. A gunshot rings out, the ball crossing the creature's shoulder before it has time to make its decision. A furious hiss slides between the teeth of the vampire who straightens up to turn to its attacker. The barrel still smoking, Bucky keeps his revolver raised. He may not be able to give you much time, but he intends to protect you from this filthy being.

"Run Y/N ... Run without stopping"

He can't give you a gun, you'll have to be quick and he has to distract the monster long enough. James silently addresses a prayer before shooting a second time, aiming at the pale and grimacing creature's skull. Your lover's voice immediately triggers your survival instinct and you run away without turning around, running as fast as you can until your throat and muscles are on fire, until your eyes are clouded with tears and you collapse in an inn screaming like a lunatic that you have to save your fiancé. People lift you, rub you, put you to bed, whispering that it is too dark to try anything. Desperate, you get agitated and delirious until someone make you drink a mixture plunging you into a dreamless sleep. In the early morning, the villagers organize a hunt to find your lover, but they quickly realize that you have been attacked by a pack of wolves. Besides, there is no trace of your alleged attacker. On the other hand, they discover in the forest bullet impacts and, bathing in a pool of blood, a human arm.

*** Ten years. Ten years have passed since that terrible night, since you lost your loved one. You lived the next morning as in a fog, your awakening at the inn, the announcement of the macabre discovery, your mother who takes you in her arms when you get off the train. Officially, you were the victim of a wolf and you do not have the strength to deny this version, who would believe you? After these events, you closed in on yourself while the whole city was gradually aware of the tragedy. Poor child, what a misfortune ... And then people moved on, life resumed its course around you. Ten years ... and you still haven't forgotten him. Despite your mother's insistent requests, despite the numerous visits from suitors, you still and always refuse to marry or even take off the modest ring that cruelly reminds you of what you have lost. Part of you died in the woods that night and you don't intend to replace it.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here? The park offers very beautiful landscapes and I will be bored without my dear little girl..."

You shake your head gently while kissing your mother's cheek, you do not intend to reverse your decision. It’s time for you to get some fresh air, to get away. It’s an almost vital need. So you get on the train, your equipment carefully stored in a small suitcase. Far from it all, you hope to be able to rest your mind, to drown in nature by painting canvas on canvas in the middle of the meadows. The little village where you have chosen to spend some time is very pretty and thinking that no one knows you here immediately brings you a feeling of relief. Without waiting, you get to work, setting up your easel to get lost in your thoughts and what should only last a few days stretches into weeks. Obviously, some people start to wonder about the young woman who never says anything and spends her days painting or drawing but people are too polite to ask you questions. Every day, it's the same ritual: you get up at dawn, have a light breakfast and go out into the countryside to let your brushes express themselves. At sunset, you can be seen walking around and after dark, you go back to bed to cry silently on your pillow.

This day is no exception and you take the time to clean your palette before letting your legs carry you without worrying about where they take you. The days are getting shorter and the night is falling faster and faster but you don't care, deep in thought as usual. However, you walk so much and so far that you have to face the facts: you got lost. Quietly, you try to retrace your steps but the landscapes are all alike and darkness settles in little by little without you having found the village. Arms wrapped around you, you shiver in your dress and walk at random, watching for a light on the horizon. Unwittingly, the images of the famous night come back to you, the shadows, the blood-red eyes but also the features drawn from your mother's anxiety when seeing her runaway girl pale, the dress in tatters. It would be a shame if you died when she took so long to accept that you do this journey.

In the ambient darkness, past and present mix, so much that you think you can see the sparkling pupils again, observing you between two bushes. But that can't be true, it's just a mirage of your mind that you don't even pay attention to. That’s why it’s such a shock to feel like you’re being brutally pushed back. You remain frozen as a cold hand closes on your wrist, a weight pressing your body against the ground. Someone or something has settled on you and behind the long curtain of his tangled hair, the being is watching you with a look of pure madness. These eyes reflect only one thought: hunger, a terrible, destructive hunger. But you also recognize something else in the blue of the pupils. A ray of moonlight briefly illuminates the face of your attacker, bringing out the salience of his jaw, the pallor of his skin, the sharpness of his teeth.

"Bucky …?"

The vampire raises your wrist and plunges his canines into it without fear of tearing your fragile flesh, violently sucking your life flowing down his chin in a scarlet net. The pain is invading your brain but the fear is struggling to clear a path, it's too much shock, you can't believe it. Your mouth articulates supplications to which the one you love remains deaf, devouring you greedily without even a glance. Finally, you lose consciousness, sinking into thick icy fog like winter.

***

What is under your body is damp and unpleasantly cold as if someone had forgotten himself in rough sheets. The pulp of your fingers feels the texture of the fabric, you may be on a bed or a sofa. To tell the truth, whatever, you can't really think because your body burns and makes you suffer. Unable to open your eyes, you painfully try to move, exhaling a complaint in the dark. The memories do not come back to you, it is not time yet, you must already become aware of your body which is only a blaze for the moment. Your groan does not go unnoticed and a firm hand raises you with all possible delicacy, before pressing against your lips the hard edge of a bowl.

" Drink "

Without thinking, you obey the injunction and open your mouth, letting a ferrous liquid run against your tongue, drinking more and more impatiently as the pain in your limbs decreases. The drink is taken away too quickly, but at least you’re now able to open your eyes. Although it is pitch dark, you can make out the outline of a bed, of a dilapidated cabin whose pierced roof still drips from recent rain. Kneeling beside you, someone steps back as he puts the bowl down, marking a distance between you as if he were afraid. Unless it is you who should fear him because you recognize the hair too long, the asymmetrical silhouette. Intrigued and not daring to believe that he is your lover, you reach for the young man before suppressing a hiss of pain. Your wrist, the very one that was brutally bitten, is wrapped in a stained handkerchief, forming a rudimentary bandage. No need to look at the wound, you guess it is awful.

Positioning himself as far away from you as possible, James watches you carefully, trying to make himself small so as not to frighten you. For him too, everything is extremely confused. When he saw you in the woods, he saw only a prey, a body of flesh and blood to be devoured savagely like the bloodthirsty beast he has become in the last ten years. But hearing your voice, feeling you in his mouth, it's like a black veil has torn in his mind. Blood is life, it's a little bit of the soul of the person, their qualities, their memories that we can taste and yours was a precious but painful wine. With each sip of the delicate nectar, new images poured in, testifying to a forgotten common past, a lost humanity. Without really knowing why, the vampire saved your life at the last moment, offering his blood to keep yourself from succumbing. He has been watching your bedside for three days now, hoping to get answers and not to go crazy, divided between his bestiality and the vestiges of an old life.

His eyes are on you, you feel him curious and worried in a corner of the cabin, watching for the least of your sighs. Now, you're sure, it's Bucky who’s standing just a few yards away, your Bucky. You know he has changed and, basically, you also know you have changed but whatever, it's the man you love and you get up to join him. Your legs waver, you stagger but hold on, placing a hand on the creature's unique arm, looking him in the eyes.

"I was waiting for you ... I knew you couldn't be dead." You notice his tense posture, his way of staring at you as if he was thinking, did violence to analyze everything. "You don't remember me, do you?"

A nod, shy. Obviously he’s confused. You will help him, he will become himself over time. For now, you’re just happy to have found him and hugging him, wrapping your arms around his waist to rest your cheek against his chest. You will have plenty of time to think later, quite an eternity to tell the truth. James shivers when he feels your touch, he can't remember the last time he had such a contact. But it is not unpleasant and in his heart where winter has reigned for ten years, a small bubble of heat begins to crackle. He puts his hand on your back with infinite care, feels tears running down his cheeks without him really understanding why. You close your eyes and smile, just happy.

"I will help you find what you lost ..."

You stay entwined until daybreak and even afterwards, when you fall asleep while the sun is racing. Over the nights, James gradually recovers his memories, his personality remained locked up all this time. He cuts his hair, straightens himself and if he stays quiet, a light smile is lighting his face more and more often. With him, you learn to tame your new existence, little by little. Bucky teachs you to hunt, to control your strength and your speed, to heal your burns when a cruel ray of sunshine touches your skin. Your wrist keeps an ugly scar but you don't care, it's just a detail. Of course, you quickly sent a letter to your mother to reassure her and warn her that you would not come back, not for a while. You told her you found James, but she probably didn't believe you, that's okay. After a while, you decide to live more normally, to build your own home on the edge of the forest. Now you live in a nice wooden house that Bucky built with his hands and this evening, you intend to offer him your hand. Or rather, you will offer him his because it is a prosthesis that awaits him above the fireplace. Maybe you will finally be able to get married.

[leonaesque]

Poetic Injustice: On Ateneo and Negotiating Complicity

To be a successful comprador is an art. Tony Tan Caktiong knows this. Given the scale at which multinational corporations influence Philippine culture, at this point, who are we to refute it? And how? Profit-seeking forces itself on us; to be recognized. Every mass-produced item of clothing featuring the pattern of an ever-smiling billion-dollar bee is indication enough: Art is execution. In fact, being the recipient of foreign capital requires deliberate hands able to maintain thousands upon thousands of labor-only contractual workers, despite their having worked at the same establishment for years on end. These workers produce what no middleman can. Yet a company will still view being bought-out by an industry giant as the ideal exit strategy. Each moving part makes for one striking image of monopoly– worthy, one might insist, of being featured in a gallery.

Jollibee Foods Corporations (JFC) acquires stakes or ownership of restaurant chains in order to expand, as it has done over the course of many years with local and foreign brands. Their current roster includes Greenwich, Chowking, Red Ribbon, Mang Inasal, Burger King PH, The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, and Panda Express PH. The company also runs businesses internationally, such as Smashburgers in the United States, and Yonghe Dawang or Yonghe King in China.[1] Of course, the face of this massive undertaking remains the once tiny Magnolia-inspired ice cream store, Jollibee, now every business-oriented insect’s wet dream.

Ernesto Tanmiantong, brother and successor of Tony Tan Caktiong as Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of Jollibee Foods Corporation, is the latest former Chairperson of the Ateneo de Manila University Board of Trustees.[2] One can even find his name, along with his wife’s, gracing a first-floor exhibit hall of the Ateneo Art Gallery, found inside the university’s so-called creative hub, the Arete. In the months before the start of the first semester of S.Y. 2018-2019, Tanmiantong’s adorable, marketing-committee-approved buddy in white gloves and a chef’s hat took a trip to the then-newly inaugurated art gallery for a photo-op. The mascot then posed with several installments and paintings, a couple of which depicted farmers and workers.

According to the Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE), JFC is one of the most notorious businesses with regards to the perpetuation of the practice of contractualization.[3] Contractual workers are, according to law, not employed by– and, therefore, not the responsibility of– the company they provide labor to. Because of this, these workers do not receive benefits or compensation, are often subject to abusive working conditions, and are vulnerable to the shameless practice of mass termination. No doubt, the Public Relations stunt with the Ateneo Art Gallery was ill-timed; right at the height of protests against the corporation, in the midst of its non-compliance with the DOLE’s order to regularize upwards of 6,000 of its workers– there was Jollibee: tone-deaf and taking pictures to post on his Facebook profile, The Atenean Way.  

Ironically, as the statement by Ateneo’s School of Humanities Sanggunian (which condemned the incident) pointed out, perhaps even the person inside that oversized blinking head of the Jollibee mascot was a contractual worker, posing in a space that he might never have been able to enter without the cartoon-bee-mask of his exploitation.[4] Surely, it does not matter whether or not the institutional faux pas was an intentional case of art-washing. At least, it should not. Is there such a thing as art for art for art’s sake?

---

There is this poem entitled “The Doomed” written by Mikael De Lara Co. A friend of mine recommended it to me once after a workshop session because my piece, he said, reminded him of it. I do not think my friend meant to insult me. Unless he did.

“The Doomed” is a poem about writing a poem, wherein the poet-persona is aware that, while he is writing poems about lilies, there is violence somewhere, which he is both physically and socially detached from. This violence is manifest into the shooting of Liberal Party supporter and candidate, Hamira Agcong, in 2010, as well as the infamous Ampatuan Massacre that occurred in 2009, where 58 people were kidnapped and killed.  

Where do poems fall under in the realm of social praxis (if at all)? “The Doomed” ends with the lines “I want to find beauty in suffering. / I want to fail.” Yet, the poem’s aestheticization of the murders via tone and imagery is blatant. The declarative rejection of an ideal like beauty or portraying beauty betrays the poet’s pretentiousness in what can only be his underlying conservativity. There is no attempt to avoid it. With lines like “You sit at your desk / to write a poem about lilies and a clip of 9mm’s / is emptied into the chest of a mother…” and “… a backhoe in Ampatuan crushes the spines of 57 / – I am trying to find another word for bodies”, it sounds as though these killings are more poetic material than actual, politically motivated deaths. Tell me, is the reader to blame for reading what is on the page? Mikael De Lara Co fails in failing, making the poem and its project a useless endeavor.

Despite the pointedly crafted grief into the persona’s voice, “The Doomed” does nothing to grieve the circumstances which brings about its dramatic situation. Why are people “doomed”, if not for the bureaucrat capitalists that viciously plot to stay in power? Could the poet not have addressed that, instead of weeping about his writing process? I do not believe that the poem would have failed that, at least, because all language inevitably fails in the face of social reality. That would be lazy, if it were not bullshit.

But I suppose that is why “The Doomed” fails, most of all: The poet believes it is fine to write speeches for a leader who allowed farmers and indigenous people to be harassed, as long as they could be tagged as members of the New People’s Army, the armed faction of the Communist Party of the Philippines. A text speaks, though the words are not on the page. So, the poet dooms.

Mikael De Lara Co has won many awards for his writing and translations, including the prestige-inducing Don Carlos Palanca Award for Literature. He graduated BS Environmental Science from Ateneo de Manila University, where he was once an editor of Heights, the school’s official literary publication. He has been published in many other magazines, literary journals, and the like, where his author’s notes proudly indicate all these accomplishments and more, such as having, himself, worked for the Liberal Party and once been a member of the former President Benigno Aquino III’s staff under the Presidential Communications Operations Office. Ergo, ghostwriter, alongside a number of other Ateneans who were also once part of Heights.

“Noynoy Aquino was a fascist” is a phrase that does not get said often enough. The Aquino administration, with its neoliberal policies the color of dehydrated piss, is credited with the starving thousands of farmers to death. Unsurprising, I suppose, for a family of landlords to inherit a disdain for the very hands that feed them. Corazon Cojuanco Aquino passed the Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Program (CARP) during her regime, and her son amended it with an extension and reforms (CARPer), making it even easier for land owners not to have to redistribute their lands at all.

For all its “Kayo ang boss ko” and “Daang Matuwid” pandering, the Aquino administration did not skimp on its counterinsurgency program, Oplan Bayanihan, which heavily drew from the U.S. Counterinsurgency Guide.[5] Here, it was farmers and Lumad, some of the most vulnerable sectors of Philippine society, that were tagged as rebels, terrorists, communists, etc., simply for knowing and standing for their rights, as the government failed to decimate actual armed revolutionaries in the countryside.

The massacre that took place under the Aquino administration occurred in Kidapawan, Cotabato on April 1, 2016. According to reports, among the group of 6,000 protesters that was mainly composed of farmers and activists, 116 were injured, 87 went missing, and 3 were killed.[6] Perhaps the lilies in “The Doomed” were a metaphor for De Lara Co’s beloved Noynoy.

---

Speaking of Ateneo: For an institution that makes yearly claims to combat historical revisionism and uphold the memory of the victims of human rights violations under the Martial Law era, this university loves to slurp on major Marcos ass. In 2014, President Fr. Jose Ramon Villarin, SJ drew flack for having rubbed elbows with the iron butterfly herself, Imelda Marcos, at an Ateneo scholars’ benefactors’ event.[7] The mere thought of Imelda posing as a charitable, bloated cockroach in a wig that feasts on all that is lavish and garish, while the university welcomes her to do so is nearly comical. I imagine the blood.  

In 2019, a similar incident ensued[8], this time with Imelda’s daughter, Irene, whose art connoisseur lifestyle she lives second-hand. It was during the inauguration of the Arete’s amphitheater, named after Ignacio B. Jimenez, a crony of the corrupt family themselves.[9] Community backlash forced the building’s executive director, Yael Buencamino, to resign and for University President, Fr. Jose Ramon Villarin, SJ to issue a statement in response to the instance.

Yet, despite the triumph of Ateneans in demanding accountability for having the Marcoses at our literal and metaphorical dining table, there are also the Camposes, the Consunjis, the Lorenzos, and other local elite whose hands are stained with generational blood, that have established their presence in the campus with no near hopes of showing them out. Students could also be as loud as they pleased about the violations on workers’, farmers’, and national minorities’ rights that these families are frequently attached to, with only the answer of a warning that school organizations may lose sponsorship opportunities. What else can we expect? Of course, the names that line the halls that one studies in are the limits of academic freedom.

---

A few semesters ago, I wrote a poem to be workshopped by my co-English staffers in Heights as part of our membership retention requirements. It was not a good poem, I know. It was about my experience of integrating with the striking workers of Sumifru, a multinational Japanese company that produces fruit, whose union was called NAMASUFA (Nagkahiusang Mamumuo sa Suyapa Farm). After struggling to get word out of their plight and facing violent dispersals and harassment, 200 workers came all the way from Compostela Valley to Metro Manila via boat and plane, despite the difficulties of travel due to the imposition of Martial Law throughout Mindanao. Their objective was to pressure the DOLE and its Secretary, Silvestre Bello III, into action; that is, to be firm in enforcing Sumifru’s compliance to regularize their workers, which the company refused to do even though the DOLE had legally recognized them as their workers’ employer. The workers set up camp in various places, such as Mendiola, Liwasang Bonifacio, and beside the Commission on Human Rights inside the University of the Philippines Diliman campus, and often welcomed students who came to learn about their cause.  

During the workshop, the discussion began with a silence and an awkward laugh. Political realism was how my poem was diagnosed, for obvious reasons. However, the main critique that I remember was that my use of language– the words multinational corporation and bureaucrat capitalists, in particular– did not induce the feeling of the struggle that the workers went through. It was not the language workers used or would use. I refuted this claim, saying I had talked to the workers. That this is exactly what they say. No, it is not poetic. It is real.

I agree, though, with the verdict that my poem was not good, if the basis were form. I agree because I do not think poems need to be good to say what is needed. If the basis were factors other than form, I still do not think the poem is good. I mean, either way, it does not change the fact that, ultimately, I only wrote a poem for a workshop, despite any intention of bringing awareness to NAMASUFA. Is a poem going to save them their jobs? Does that make a difference? Did it make a difference?

The Sumifru workers returned to Mindanao last July, 2019. I have left Heights as well.

---

Within the Ateneo campus, a tarpaulin overlooks the red brick road that the entire Loyola Schools population traverses. The sign merits a purposeful, impossible-to-miss position on the old Rizal Library building, immortalizing the critique: “We find the Ateneo today irrelevant to the Philippine situation because it can do no more than to service the power elite.” Nothing could be more fitting, in my opinion. The Ateneo de Manila University’s commitment to performativity deserves to be blasted in our faces, if at least once a day.

This declaration was taken from the “Down from the Hill” manifesto published by The Guidon in November of 1968. The manifesto was written by a group of five students, namely Jose Luis Alcuaz, Gerardo Esguerra, Emmanuel Lacaba, Leonardo Montemayor and Alfredo Salanga, all of whom actively campaigned for an anti-imperialist orientation to nationalism.

I want to talk about Eman Lacaba. Throughout the Marcos regime, he was a student activist– a radical, so to speak, as disapproving administrative bodies might now label him. Presently, he is known for being a poet, revolutionary, guerilla, and a martyr during the Martial Law era. One of his most often discussed poems is “An Open Letter to Filipino Artists”, a piece that finds itself into syllabi like a de-fanged snake. The poem is a detailing of his experience as a cadre of the New People’s Army; the provinces he visits, his process of proletarianizing from a burgis boy to a communist rebel, and so forth. The epigraph of the work, a quote from Ho Chi Minh, affirms his praxis– “A poet must learn how to lead an attack.” The poem is the revolution that Lacaba takes up arms for. I guess now that he is dead, Ateneans can wholeheartedly claim him as one of their own.  

After the Martial Law era, Ateneo decided to create a body dedicated to the integration of its students with various disenfranchised sectors of society, as encouragement for their middle to upper-middle class youth to become more socially aware and active. The Office of Social Concern and Involvement (OSCI) is the current iteration of this. Their programs, from first year to fourth, require students to be socially involved enough to pass their Theology units. Commendable, no? Still. You can almost get sanctioned for so much as lighting candles for state-murdered farmers on the sidewalk by the gates outside of campus if it is not an Office of Student Activities-approved event– something I learned the hard way. I was not aware that bureaucracy was a key principle in Catholic Social Teaching.

So, does this mean the opposite of active non-violence is that which is inactively violent? The areas that OSCI allows their students to immerse in are carefully chosen, the interactions are prepared for in advance. In fact, they do not want to use the term “immerse” lest they be misconstrued with the damn leftists that climb mountains and “brainwash” unsuspecting poor people. You know, the ones that dare challenge the status-quo? Ateneo, or at the very least, its administration, will recognize the necessity of political action, but only to a certain extent. Nothing like Eman, the warrior-poet, whose militance is much too red to aestheticize.

The contradiction between what is said (marketed, poeticized, apologized for, etc.) and what is done should be scrutinized, instead of convincing ourselves that our interests are not merely our own. The dominant culture of a society will expose who supports those who hold political and economic power.  

[1] Cigaral (List: Brands operated by Jollibee Foods Corp.)

[2] (Leadership)

[3] Patinio (Jollibee tops list of firms engaged in labor-only contracting: DOLE)

[4] SOH Sanggunian (The Statement of the SOH Sanggunian on Jollibee's PR Stunt)

[5] Karapatan (OPLAN BAYANIHAN For Beginners)

[6] Caparas (WITH VIDEOS: 3 dead, 87 missing, 116 hurt as police fire on Cotabato human barricade)

[7] Francisco (Ateneo de Manila 'sorry' over Imelda's visit)

[8] Paris (Irene Marcos was invited to Ateneo, and students are up in arms)

[9] Rappler.com (Ateneo hit for art ampitheater named after Marcos 'dummy')

Works Cited

Caparas, Jeff. “WITH VIDEOS: 3 Dead, 87 Missing, 116 Hurt as Police Fire on Cotabato Human Barricade.” InterAksyon.com, 1 Apr. 2016, web.archive.org/web/20160402013745/interaksyon.com/article/125901/breaking--security-forces-open-fire-on-cotabato-human-barricade.

Cigaral, Ian Nicolas. “List: Brands Operated by Jollibee Foods Corp.” Philstar.com, The Philippine Star, 24 July 2019, www.philstar.com/business/2019/07/24/1937490/list-brands-operated-jollibee-foods-corp.

Francisco, Katerina. “Ateneo De Manila 'Sorry' over Imelda's Visit.” Rappler, 6 July 2014, www.rappler.com/nation/62549-ateneo-manila-imelda-marcos-apology.

Karapatan (Alliance for the Advancement of People’s Rights). OPLAN BAYANIHAN For Beginners, Karapatan, 2011.

“Leadership.” Leadership | Ateneo Global, global.ateneo.edu/about/leadership.

Paris, Janella. “Irene Marcos Was Invited to Ateneo, and Students Are up in Arms.” Rappler, 8 Apr. 2019, www.rappler.com/nation/227702-irene-marcos-invited-to-ateneo-students-protest-april-2019.

Patinio, Ferdinand. “Jollibee Tops List of Firms Engaged in Labor-Only Contracting: DOLE.” Philippine News Agency RSS, Philippine News Agency, 28 May 2018, www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1036679.

Rappler.com. “Ateneo Hit for Art Ampitheater Named after Marcos 'Dummy'.” Rappler, 21 Apr. 2019, www.rappler.com/nation/228633-ateneo-ignacio-gimenez-ampitheater-marcos-dummy.

“SOH Sanggunian.” SOH Sanggunian - The Statement of the SOH Sanggunian on..., 2 July 2018, www.facebook.com/sohsanggu/photos/a.157891440898864/1893103380710986/?type=3.

[sargenthouse]

Emma Ruth Rundle: Fever Dreams in the Season of the Witch // KEXP

full article via KEXP

“I don’t think anything I’m doing is witchy at all,” says Emma Ruth Rundle.

I’ve just put forward a journalistic hypothesis linking her, Marissa Nadler, Zola Jesus, and Chelsea Wolfe as self-contained women making uncompromising art steeped in haunted melodrama. It’s an oversimplification, but Rundle is too kind to brush off my conjecture completely. “Marissa is a friend and Chelsea is, too. Zola Jesus, I’ve never met, but we’re playing a festival together in a few weeks.” 

With tarot tapestries and books like Basic Witches for sale in Urban Outfitters everywhere, we’re witnessing a mainstreaming of the occult. Trend or not, Rundle doesn’t mind being connected to arcane female power. “It’s good company,” she allows. “It’s a unique moment, a little scene if you will. I’m happy to be associated with such lovely ladies.”

Good company is something Emma Ruth Rundle knows a lot about. Since 2008, she’s released records with the Nocturnes, Red Sparowes, and Marriages. It's her solo albums, however, where Rundle’s impassioned vocals and swirling guitars have coalesced into a sonic thumbprint. On Dark Horses (out now via Sargent House) is a career highlight — an album that marries a hazy, soft-focus mood to the artist’s most fully-realized songcraft to date.

Rundle is speaking to me via Skype from Berlin, tonight’s stop on an extensive European jaunt. She’s on the road with her husband Evan Patterson’s experimental Americana act Jaye Jayle, two members of which play in Rundle’s own live band. Her relationship with Patterson grew out of such travel. “We did a split release (2017’s The Time Between Us [Sargent House]) which was a foretelling of what was to come,” Rundle explains. “Touring that record, we fell in love and now we’re married.”

“A life spent in pieces,” she sings on album opener “Fever Dreams.” The title is a fitting metaphor for On Dark Horses’ shadowy sound. It also hints at a fractured personal history. “It’s pretty literal,” Rundle confirms. “My sister and I came from some abuse as children and a household that included drug problems, physical abuse, and mental health issues that have been genetically passed on.”

Flanged cymbals, hypnotic rhythms, plenty of reverb — descriptors like neo-psychedelia and shoegaze are easy to bat around when discussing the new record. Rundle agrees. “The album as a whole has a quality that definitely references shoegaze.” There’s also powerful ensemble playing and she’s quick to credit Kevin Ratterman (My Morning Jacket, Young Widows) for helping to achieve both the sound and performances. “We tracked as a group,” Rundle says. “That contributed to the cohesiveness of the album and Kevin’s production added that sort of softness to it.”

Central to the record are those distinctive guitar lines and beguiling vocals, leading to the question of whether she writes more as a singer or instrumentalist. For Rundle, it’s a combination.

“The roles are pretty interwoven,” she says. “I start all my songs on acoustic. From there, vocal melodies present themselves. I write all the lyrics and transfer it over to electric where I work with the band.” Still, even after completing a record, the songs continue to evolve. “Live, I’m noticing that the music is a bit heavier than it is on the record.”

Indeed, the heavy music community has always embraced Rundle as part of what she jokingly refers to as the “trifecta of Chelsea Wolfe, Marissa Nadler, and I.” She’s appeared at Northwest Terrorfest and supported King Buzzo of the Melvins. Perhaps its the elemental nature of Rundle’s music speaks to fans of that genre. “There’s a simple line that comes from playing in Red Sparowes — a post-rock band — to Marriages where we opened for Deafheaven. While my music may not be metal, I listen to a lot of it and feel comfortable in that world.”

It’s not all Rundle listens to, but the dark stuff bubbles to the top. She describes PJ Harvey and Tori Amos as being “like gods” during her formative years. “I’m also into Chris Whitley, the singer/songwriter,” she says. “His whole story and everything about that person is inspiring and fascinating. I’m kind of obsessed with him.”

Horses are another recent obsession — even Rundle’s new paintings are equestrian-themed. And then there’s the album title itself. “I wrote 'Darkhorse' for my sister,” she says. “It’s about overcoming childhood stuff, surviving and thriving despite circumstances that may have led us down a different path.” The concept flowered from there. “It was a metaphor that became a mythological character which came to life and I fixated on.”

A sense of wonder about the natural world permeates the lyrics as well. “We outshine the sun, we out-rise the moon,” she and Evan sing on “Light Song.” At first blush, the track sounds like it’s about rebirth while alluding to the pair’s romantic connection.

“There are parts taken from traditional folk wedding songs — some of the baptismal stuff about getting in the water,” explains Rundle. “It’s this blissful love song that’s ended up referencing and representing our relationship.”

A longtime Los Angeles resident, Rundle now lives with Patterson in his hometown of Louisville, KY, where they recorded On Dark Horses. The new setting suits her. “Louisville is affordable and we have a great quality of life. I couldn’t tour this much or be this productive as a visual artist and musician in LA. I’d be working two jobs.”

Directed by Louisvillian Danielle Elise Bartley, the video for “Light Song” paints their existence in dreamy hues. Rundle reveals one personal detail. “We got to borrow Evan’s Dad’s classic car which I thought was pretty cute.”

The clip and its idealized Southern Gothic atmosphere bring me back to my original line of questioning. Seeking a fresh angle, I mention that this article is set to run October 31st and inquire about Rundle’s own spooky traditions.

“I love Halloween and that subtle change in the air, the thinning of the veil between worlds,” she admits. “While my music may not be witchy, I’m definitely down with the creepy stuff.”

Emma Ruth Rundle / Jaye Jayle Tour Dates

OCT 31 Rotterdam, NL @ Rotown NOV 01 Groningen, NL @ Vera NOV 02 Paris, FR @ Petit Bain NOV 03 Manchester, UK @ Soup Kitchen NOV 04 Bristol, UK @ Rough Trade NOV 06 Glasgow, UK @ Stereo NOV 07 Newcastle, UK @ The Cluny NOV 08 London, UK @ Oslo NOV 09 Kortijk, BE @ Sonic City Festival
 NOV 10 Antwerp, BE @ Trix NOV 30 Nashville, TN @ The High Watt DEC 01 Atlanta, GA @ Drunken Unicorn DEC 03 Dallas, TX @ Double Wide DEC 04 Austin, TX @ Barracuda DEC 06 Albuquerque, NM @ Sister DEC 07 Phoenix, AZ @ Valley Bar DEC 09 Los Angeles, CA @ The Echo DEC 10 San Francisco, CA @ Rickshaw Stop DEC 12 Portland, OR @ Mississippi Studios DEC 13 Seattle, WA @ Barboza DEC 15 Salt Lake City, UT @ Kilby Court DEC 16 Denver, CO @ Lost Lake DEC 17 Kansas City, MO @ The Riot Room

[nothingman]

No political organization in the recent history of the world has had a gift for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory quite like the Democratic Party. This is the party that has managed to lose three of the last five presidential elections, despite only once in that period getting fewer votes than the opposition. Although the Democrats nominally hold positions with broad majority support on a wide range of issues, following the heavy losses of the 2010 and 2014 midterms the party found itself in its worst nationwide position since the early 1930s.

For much of the 20th century, Democrats understood themselves to be the party of permanent hegemony on Capitol Hill, no matter who was in the White House: Between the Franklin D. Roosevelt election of 1932 and the Newt Gingrich election of 1994, the party held a House majority for 58 out of 62 years, and a Senate majority for 52 of 62. Sam Rayburn, a Democrat from an east Texas district that is now (of course) solidly Republican, was House speaker for more than 17 years, a record that will surely never be broken. That history has almost become a curse from the past, haunting the Democratic present; it’s like a lost paradise, and every few years a new messiah shows up to tell the faithful that (s)he knows the true path that will lead them back. Or it’s like the idyllic garden in “Alice in Wonderland,” which Alice knows she can reach if she can only squeeze through the door.

There is no garden, no path and no door. This mythic certainty that their kingdom will come again — expressed more recently in the mantra that “demographics is destiny” — has prevented Democrats from perceiving the true nature of their predicament. Over the last three decades, the party has been virtually wiped out in numerous states between the coasts where it was once competitive (or even dominant). It now holds a legislative majority in just 14 states. You can slice and dice the history of American party politics in all sorts of tedious ways, but there is no clear precedent for such an imbalance. More to the point, there’s no precedent whatever, in the United States or anywhere else, for a situation where one party appears to represent majoritarian opinion and typically gets more votes, but has conclusively been shut out of power.

Oh but wait, you say: Blue wave incoming! Yeah, whatever. Presented with the powerful unifying force of a massively unqualified and uniquely divisive president, Democrats may indeed win a House majority this fall. (The Senate remains unlikely.) But I don’t feel like betting the ranch on that outcome, do you? What may be even more impressive than the Democratic record of losing winnable elections is the party's aptitude for finding someone else to blame every time it happens. It was the Russians. It was Ralph Nader. It was the Swift-boat ads. It was liberal complacency. It was gerrymandering. It was all the mean things Republicans said. It was the unfortunate fact that the voters don’t like us all that much, which definitely isn’t our fault.

READ MORE: Bill Browder and Vladimir Putin: A tangled tale of two nations, two centuries and a lot of history

Over the past few weeks, ever since Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez's startling primary victory over Rep. Joe Crowley, D-N.Y., we’ve seen a remarkable display of intra-party, bad-faith concern trolling — an area where Democrats have set a high standard. Various “mainstream” or “moderate” figures in or around the party are already seeking to pin blame for a hypothetical November defeat, in advance, on the insurgent “socialist” faction associated with Ocasio-Cortez and Sen. Bernie Sanders. My daring analysis: This does not bespeak enormous confidence.

To be fair, Democrats of all factions and ideologies were united this week in telling former FBI director James Comey — a lifelong Republican, at least until he worked for President Donald Trump — to shut up and go away after offering unsolicited advice to Democratic voters:

Democrats, please, please don’t lose your minds and rush to the socialist left. This president and his Republican Party are counting on you to do exactly that. America’s great middle wants sensible, balanced, ethical leadership.

— James Comey (@Comey) July 22, 2018

Lordy, no -- not the socialist left! As many people observed, the guy who may have single-handedly tipped the balance in the 2016 presidential election should perhaps not view himself as a fount of political wisdom. But at least Comey’s tweet seemed like a sincere opinion, consistent with his grandiose view of himself as a white knight who embodies all the most honorable tendencies of America in one extremely tall white man.

Joe Lieberman, however, the onetime Connecticut senator and 2000 Democratic vice-presidential nominee, is just an odious little garden gnome, in constant danger of being peed on by the family Schnauzer. He seems, in fact, to have undergone the same process of physical and intellectual shrinkage as Rudy Giuliani: Was this a bargain offered by an evil sorcerer, which conveys immortality at the cost of one’s soul, stature and spine?

Lieberman was purely trolling, in especially distasteful fashion, in writing a July 17 Wall Street Journal op-ed that Red-baited Ocasio-Cortez with an extraordinary assortment of lies and urged Crowley, the 10-term incumbent she defeated in the June Democratic primary, to run against her on a third-party line in the fall. Since the Journal article is behind a paywall, here's a taste:

Because the policies Ms. Ocasio-Cortez advocates are so far from the mainstream, her election in November would make it harder for Congress to stop fighting and start fixing problems. Thanks to a small percentage of primary votes, all of the people of New York’s 14th Congressional District stand to lose a very effective representative in Washington.

Fortunately, Joe Crowley and the voters in his district can prevent this damage. On Election Day, his name will be on the ballot as the endorsed candidate of the Working Families Party. But for Mr. Crowley to have a chance at getting re-elected, he will have to decide if he wants to remain an active candidate. I hope he does.

Ms. Ocasio-Cortez is a proud member of the Democratic Socialists of America, whose platform, like hers, is more Socialist than Democratic. Her dreams of new federal spending would bankrupt the country or require very large tax increases, including on the working class. Her approach foresees government ownership of many private companies, which would decimate the economy and put millions out of work.

First of all, Lieberman surely knows that Crowley will do no such thing — he’s a decent guy and a party loyalist, and the PR damage would be enormous — and that Crowley would lose even worse the second time around. (I live in the 14th district; I doubt Lieberman has been here in 30 years, except crossing overhead on the Cross-Bronx Expressway.)

Secondly, the actual point here may be to none-too-subtly remind Journal readers that Lieberman himself ditched the Democratic Party after his own primary defeat in 2006, and endorsed John McCain against Barack Obama in 2008. Whose interests is he serving by encouraging Democrats, in the pages of the house organ of Big Capital, to sabotage a young, progressive woman of color?

None of this makes clear why powerful people like Comey and Lieberman are so worried about a small-scale insurrection within the Democratic Party that is nowhere near as "far from the mainstream" as they pretend, and is also a long way from staging a coup and hanging portraits of Trotsky and Che in DNC headquarters. Socialist-dread syndrome also appears to have driven the recent gathering of “moderate” Democrats in Columbus, Ohio, under the aegis of the think tank Third Way, as reported in a widely circulated piece by Alex Seitz-Wald of NBC News (a former Salon staffer).

Several attendees said they were worried that single-payer health care and abolishing ICE and other Bernie-fied policy proposals of the “angry left” would alienate swing voters and damage the party’s prospects for victory in the midterms. That’s at least a valid debating point, although it has been the Democratic default setting for decades. (And has led to that, um, amazing record of uninterrupted winning.)

I was struck by the comments of former Delaware Gov. Jack Markell, who admitted that Democratic moderates find themselves on the defensive in ideological terms: "The only narrative that has been articulated in the Democratic Party over the past two years is the one from the left," he told Seitz-Wald. "I think we need a debate within the party. Frankly, it would have been better to start the conversation earlier."

Markell is absolutely right: A debate is overdue. But a debate about what? The problem for Democratic moderates is precisely that they will not define or explain their positions clearly, except in wonky, granular, political-calculus terms, in large part because their ideas are widely discredited and massively unpopular.

Rep. Cheri Bustos of Illinois told reporters in Columbus that she stands for "a silent majority who just wants normalcy. Who wants to see that people are going out to Washington to fight for them in a civil way and get something done. ... There's a lot of people that just don't really like protests and don't like yelling and screaming." As Seitz-Wald observes, Bustos sounded more like a Nixon-era Republican than a traditional Democrat, but in any case that's a statement about messaging and style that deliberately avoids any discussion of ideology or specific policy proposals.

At the Democratic convention in 2016, I tried to find a single elected official or candidate who would tell me, straight up, that the financial deregulation and free-trade agreements and welfare cuts and mass incarceration policies of the Bill Clinton years had generally been good ideas, whatever bumps we might have encountered along the way. Nobody would do it — but I don’t think that was because none of them believed it.

Attendees at the Third Way conference were clearly aware that middle-path Democrats will need big, new ideas in order to compete successfully with Medicare for all, a $15 minimum wage, debt-free college and the other dangerous pinko proposals that would have had near-unanimous support in the pre-Reagan Democratic Party. Here's what they came up with: A private-sector, employer-funded universal pension plan to supplement Social Security. OK, I'm just spitballing, but that probably isn’t going to suck the wind out of the red sails of Bernie’s fleet and sweep Mitch Landrieu (or whomever) into the White House.

I’m not saying that so-called moderate or mainstream Democrats don't have  ideas worth discussing or don’t possess a legitimate ideology. I am saying, with Jack Markell, that it’s long past time for them to tell us clearly what they believe and defend it forcefully. Because there’s a widespread sense that the Democratic Party has some hidden agenda or obscure set of motives beneath its bland, corporate, coalition-building exterior, and that has been infinitely more damaging than any amount of socialist fervor. On the right, it has fueled the perception that Democrats are a pack of conspiratorial scolds who want to limit the freedoms of others -- and so has driven conservatives to the polls. On the left, it has fueled the perception that the party is now a wholly owned subsidiary of Goldman Sachs and its ilk -- and so has driven progressive apathy. (If neither stereotype is fair, neither is entirely false.)

This quantum ideological uncertainty is what drove people crazy about Hillary Clinton, I think, fueling the Trumpian narrative that she was deceptive or dishonest. (Which was hilarious in that context, needless to say.) She seemed impossible to pin down, first attacking Bernie Sanders as a wild-eyed radical, then gradually embracing the “progressive” label and finally running on a platform that incorporated most of his ideas. She seemed insulted by the suggestion that her Goldman Sachs speeches created any kind of political problem or required any explanation.

Clinton's political flexibility or malleability -- according to the conventional Democratic playbook -- was supposed to be a source of strength, a sign that she was a hard-headed, pragmatic decision-maker who would not be guided by doctrine. Amid the reversed magnetic field of the 2016 election, against an opponent who repeated the same forceful (if meaningless and insincere) phrases over and over again, it just looked like mendacity.

Like her entire generation of Democrats, Clinton had been programmed down to the cellular level with the early-‘90s creed that ideology itself was dangerous and toxic and likely to scare away suburban voters who just wanted civility and decency and problem-solving. Well, folks, I’m not a liberal or a conservative. I’m more of a Republibservatron! This avoidance or denial of ideology — the ideology of no-ideology — had perverse results: It elected two Democratic presidents to two terms apiece but left their party rootless and in ruins, seemingly defenseless before a deranged radical minority with a decaying relationship to reality (but no shortage of fervent ideology).

It’s tempting to say that a specter is haunting the Democratic Party and it’s the specter of socialism, blah blah blah. But that’s largely untrue: The specter is imaginary and so is the socialism, pretty much. Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and their loose array of allies across the country are a modest contingent within the party. Only a handful of them will win elections this year, and in any case they’re closer to being old-time left-wing populists, with a 21st-century overlay of multiculturalism and intersectionality, than, you know, to this:

VIDEO

Hubert Humphrey, the leading Democratic moderate of Hillary Clinton’s youth, would find little to object to in Ocasio-Cortez’s platform, beyond the labeling on the package. (Once the Happy Warrior figured out what ICE and super PACs were, and what they had done to America, he’d go out and ring doorbells in her district.) Then again, Humphrey had no fear of open and often heated ideological conflict, which was a staple of Democratic discourse for decades and is exactly what the “democratic socialist” insurrection has reintroduced since 2016.

Those who shut down such internal conflict and purged the activist left from the Democratic Party, on the premise that it was the only possible way to win elections in a "centrist," anti-ideological nation, have never faced the consequences of their historic blunder. They have lost repeatedly and on a grand scale, insisting every time that they really should have won — or in some other, better world, did win — and that whatever went wrong was somebody else’s fault. They are the ones who appear committed to an inflexible, dogmatic ideology that is out of step with political reality. They are surprised and outraged to learn that if they want to continue their losing streak, they will have to fight for it.

Does the Democratic Party need an overhaul?

New York congressional candidate Max Rose hopes to flip NYC's lone Republican seat -- but says his party must change.

via Salon

[riverdamien]

A Story of Forgiveness

A Story of Forgiveness

(Outline Taken from writings of Reverend Gregory Weeks)

Joel 2:12-18; 2 Corinthians 5:20-6:2; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18

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

    Today is the time for us to reflect on why personal sacrifice is so important.

    By imitating the sacrifices during the journey of Jesus into the desert and meditating on His journey to Golgotha, we "tear-out" those things keeping us from Jesus in order to grow closer to Him and better understand the transformational power of sacrifice.

    On my desk there is always a red rose, reminding me of the blood of Christ. A reminder that Jesus dies each day for our wrongs, not simply my personal wrongs, but our communal wrongs of homelessness, war, extreme poverty, racism, and sexism.

    It is a crucial reminder that we realize that our worth and value do not depend on anyone else. We have to claim our own inner truth. Each of us is a person worth being loved and called to give love, not because anyone says so but because we are created out of love and live in the embrace of a God who did not hesitate to send his only son to die for us.

    This afternoon, and tonight I will be out on the streets offering the imposition of ashes, with the words, "Remember you are dust and to dust you will return."  Sounds beautiful, romantic, being on the street, and it is, but it is also harrowing at times for I will be spit upon, called every name in the book, and threatened, the nature of human beings.

    And so through the years, the lesson learned has been that the greatest human act is forgiveness: "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who have sinned against us." 

     Forgiveness stands at the center of God's love for us and also at the center of our love for each other. Loving one another means forgiving one another over and over again.

    Why Is Forgiving So Important?

    Forgiving puts us in our place. We are no better nor worse than the other person, we are simply human beings on the same journey. We remember that when we point a finger at another, we have four pointing back at us.

    Secondly, we honor God. The God who in Jesus, journeyed to the cross as a result of the betrayal of the people around him, and of us today.  In the resurrection, he affirmed he would give all to bring us back into his fold. He offered the hope that we can come into the wholeness of life. And in forgiving we offer the same hope, the same promise, for in forgiving we release people from their wrongs.

    Thirdly forgiving frees us, opens the door to new life.  Through these years in ministry, I have learned that for my own survival that carrying around anger and hatred towards others would weigh me down, and eventually destroy my inner being and physical being. Frankly forgiving is from a selfish point of view--to free us, to let us live without hatred, anger, and regret.    

     And from that selfish purpose, we move out into loving and caring for others.

What Actions Help Us To Forgive?

    There are three actions that help us in forgiving:

    The first is to emphasize, to have compassion for the other. It means to "walk in their moccasins," to let others enter into our lives in order to feel their pain, and see why they are hurting. Things are said to me, that frankly, God would not repeat; I have had supporters walk away and misunderstand me and have been hit, knifed, and shot at. One learns to enter into their lives and understand where they are coming from--and to forgive and let go of the anger.

    In my first full-time parish out of seminary, there was a man, a bully in a small town near me. He was murdered in broad daylight. To this day no one saw a thing--but on the main street in the middle of the day(one wonders!). I was the only minister in town willing to do the funeral.     As a result, I was hated, and unspeakable things were said and done, simply because of empathizing and caring for a family, and there are no regrets, and it shortened my pastorate.

    Secondly, we need to let go:

    I remember two women in my second church, both 70 plus, who had a deep hatred for one another, and when one died, the other spit upon her grave. They could never seem to remember the reason, it had gone on for years. Their lives were miserable. We need to let go. Let go, forget it, and look for the new.

    Finally, tonight as the ashes are placed upon your forehead either figuratively or literally, remember it is a sign of our mortality--"You are dust, and to dust, you shall return", and it is a call to take risks.

    Take risks in loving the one who is different, take risks in loving the one who has hurt you, and take a risk in loving yourself.

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was yourself.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Takedown the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

Derek Walcott.

     Take the bread offered by Jesus, remembering we become what we eat, my favorite phrase in the Eucharistic Liturgy is, "See who you are! Become whom you See! spiritually as well as physically. Eat sour bittered bread and become a disgruntled bitter person. But choose the Eucharist, the Bread of Life, and we might even give ourselves away, as Jesus himself did--to the needs of the homeless person on our street, to the desperate desires of the lonely, or to everybody's dreams of the Kingdom.

    Lent calls us to give of ourselves to others--feed a homeless person, telephone or zoom a friend, a shut-in, touch the life of another. Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

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

Fr. River Damien Sims, sfw, D.Min., D.S.T.

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

www.temenos.org

415-305-2124