#and gazelle is a queen I don’t make the rules

[kiwicorgii]

practice doodles of the children: eggsy and gazelle ✨

(re-upload bc I liked gazelle’s sketch so much that I decided to colored her ☺️)

[tj-wrote-things]

Forbidden Fruit

Based on this request

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!reader

A/N Special thanks to @itisroe for staying up with me :) 

Shes so fluffy, angst if you squint real hard

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Genya would 100% kill you for this. There was no doubt about it. You knew it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride the night before they were to be wed. It was especially bad luck if said groom was to, hypothetically, of course, scale the wall outside of your window just to catch sight of you. But you couldn't help but rush over to the balcony, heart bursting with joy at the sight of your soon-to-be husband clambering over the rails like a newborn gazelle.

It reminded you of how it was when you first got together, of all the clumsily passed notes, secret winks and stolen kisses in empty rooms; lest his advisors found out that King Nikolai Lantsov of Ravka had fallen hard for a grisha girl with the authority of a dozen generals, and the the disposition of a queen made to rule.

You opened the glass door with a smile, shivering only slightly at the breeze running across your thinly clad legs, and moved to help Nikolai to his feet.

He swept a hand through his golden hair, and beamed down at you. “Evening, darling,” he said, with the charm of a man forever young and beautiful, and gestured to your clothes, or rather, the lack of them. “Is this what you plan on wearing tomorrow?” He followed you back into the confines of your room, and set his hands on your waist, bunching up the cream colored linen of your nightgown between his fingers. “Because if it is, you’ll have me at your mercy by luncheon. Not that you don't always have me at your mercy.” He winked slyly and leaned in to you, one of his hands moving to tilt your head towards him as his lips met yours in pre-wedded-bliss.

Oh, yes, Genya would certainly murder you both, but, saints, after a whole 24 hours without him, you really couldn’t be bothered. Because, hell, if it didn't feel fantastic to hold him close, your hands on his neck and chest, his running across your back and through your hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers as he kissed you slowly, like he had the rest of his life to give you what you wanted.

He does have the rest of his life, you thought, a smile growing on your face.

“What is it,” Nikolai asked with a grin of his own, breaking away from your lips, only to dive into your neck, mouth latching to the skin just under your ear. You shook your head with a sigh. “C’mon,” he whispered, kissing you, just there, gently and with purpose. “Why the Cheshire grin?” He bumped his leg against yours, and began to move towards the bed. After laying you down underneath him on the plush of your mattress, he set to work against the column of your neck, careful not to leave a mark.

“This time tomorrow, we’ll be husband and wife.”

Nikolai paused in his ministrations, and hid his face in your neck for a moment before lifting himself to face you. His hazel eyes bore into yours with gentle concern and unyielding affection.

“You are happy aren’t you?” He stared at you in all seriousness, as if ten seconds ago he hadn’t been making his way down your neck with the slyness of a fox. “I know that my family can be a little, a lot, actually, overbearing, and I-”

You lifted yourself on your elbows and kissed him soundly. “Of course I’m happy.” You lifted a hand to his cheek, tender with all of the love you could gather for him in that moment. “Moi Lapushka, I would gladly walk through hell with bare feet just to hold your hand in mine.” Nikolai leaned into your touch, turning to kiss your palm swiftly. “A few of your disdainful relatives mean nothing to me. Not when I have you-”

A loud rapping on the door caught your attention, as well as Nikolai’s. “Nikolai Lantsov, you better not be in there!” 

Your eyes met once more, only now, they were filled with dread. “Genya,” you chorused. “Shit.” The woman in question knocked once more, harder this time. 

“Don’t make me come in there!”

 You and Nikolai stood up hastily, and you rushed to fix your hair. You turn to your fiance. “You have to hide under the bed.���

“What?!” You dashed for your vanity, and scanned your neck for any evidence of Nikolai’s visit.

“You heard me, moi tzar.” Nikolai stared at you indignantly.

“Why can't you hide under the bed!”

“It’s my room, Nik!” You placed two hands on his shoulders, and kissed him quickly on the forehead.

“I’ll just be a moment, dear.” You pushed down, maneuvering him into his hiding place, just in time for Genya to unlock the door. Standing straight with a manic spin, you turned to see your best friend, standing with her arms crossed over her knotted dressing gown, expectant eyebrows raised.

You faked a yawn as you clamored for your own dressing gown, and tied it in place. “Genya,” you said demurely. “Is it morning already?”

The red-head marched into your bedroom like a sergeant conducting inspection and narrowed her eye at you. “Nice try, sweetie. David says that Nikolai isn't in his chamber. We both know he’s in here.”

You smiled with faux confusion. “What makes you say that?” Genya sighs.

“The lovesick fool left a note telling you he was going to visit on his desk instead of sending it.”

“Damn!” Genya turned to the bed with wordless confusion.

You shrugged at her when she looked at you. “Creaky floors.” She shook her head, and stooped to drag The King out by his leg. Nikolai laid on the floor in his nightshirt and trousers, looking up at two women.

He raised his hands in surrender. “In my defense, look at that pretty face,” he gestured to you, and you smiled sweetly. “Who wouldn't make a fool of himself to spend time with her?”

“Out,” Genya commanded, and Korol Rezni knew better than to disobey. He kissed his fiancee softly on the forehead, making a show to hold his hands away, and swiftly made his exit, throwing a quick smile to you over his shoulder. 

Genya took a seat in the armchair in the corner. “Are you really gonna sleep there?” you asked.

“Clearly, you can’t be trusted.”

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[i-am-just-a-kiddo]

thanks for tagging me @vishcount, as always 💕

rules: answer 30 questions and tag however many blogs you want!

name: just kiddo on here 

gender: blob

star sign: leo

height: 164 cm

time: 15:26 o’clock as i am answering this question

birthday: 28th july 

favorite bands: okay here we go, it’s gonna be a huge list:

Epik High, BTS, The Smiths, My Chemical Romance, Son Lux, MUSE, The Cure, SHINee, QUEEN, HYUKOH, Placebo, Nell, Karpe Diem, Daughter, Low Roar, Arcade Fire, Japanese Breakfast, The Smashing Pumpkins, Brockhampton, Lucidvox

favorite solo artists: Code Kunst, Heize, Phum Viphurit, Vaundy, Meryem Aboulouafa, joji, keshi, Frank Ocean, Tamino, Gazelle, Nas, Enny Owl, Yseult, Suran and any other solo projects from above mentioned groups 

last movie: Over The Moon (2020), which was very sweet and unique, i had fun

last show: Alice In Borderland which i binged last weekend; though i have been watching the weekly updates for Druck, Manner Of Death, Follow My Sunshine and Color Rush. Also i rewatched the last episode of Strangers From Hell on tuesday.

when did i create this blog: summer of 2013

what i post: my fandoms, art, history stuff, aesthetics, occasional memes and just anything that comes up and i like? politics sometimes too

last thing i googled: worm on a string (my sister did not know what that was so i had to show her fghjkl) 

other blogs: a kpop blog, a writing blog that i don’t use anymore, another inspiration blog that is dead and recently i started a history blog but i have done nothing with it

do i get asks: not really no

why i chose my url: i was i 14-15, obsessed with the song I’m Just A Kid by Simple Plan and was going through rough times, so here i am. 

following: 492

followers: 466

instruments: phew, nothing tbh. i once tried the violin when i was little for 1,5 years but i gave it up. i also went to a course for the djembé, which was actually a lot of fun? but i never owned one so i just stopped at some point. other than that we had to learn the harmonica in school and i went to the music-branch in middleschool which was very silly because i am not talented in music and i still don’t know the musical scale fghjk. so i was just singing in the choir and now i know that i can’t live without music, but i don’t want to make it myself.

what i am wearing: black turtle neck under a woolen black pullover, high waisted blue-green plait skirt that reaches my shins, black stockings

dream job(s): author, researcher at some uni, working in uni in general? might even be professor for this

dream trip: phew. the whole world? definitely the whole of asia from west to east from north to south; specific mentions is Gyeongju in S. Korea, Kyoto in Japan,  Kathmandu in Nepal, Istanbul in Turkey  and I really really want to travel the Transsibirian Railway? I also really want to travel through Mongolia and Siberia. New Zealand and Australia for sure, that has been my dream for ages. Cairo in Egypt, Addis Abeba in Ethiopia. Canada and Alaska. the list goes on and on and on

favorite foods: and kind of salad, pasta, sushi, pizza, ratatouille, korean and chinese food (probably not authentic but it’s all i know), pad thai, my grandma’s cooking

nationality: irrelevant but ig european 

favorite song: the tree songs i currently listen to a lot is chlorine by twenty one pilots, the entierty of the strangers from hell soundtrack but especially room no. 303 by the vane, and everything by enny owl, but especially ribcaged.

last book i read: boy. i read only uni stuff. but i read The Clouds Float North - The Complete Poems of Yu Xuanji, translated by David Young and Jiann I. Lin. I can recommend it dearly, it’s a bilingual edition and her poems are so beautiful. 

Am gonna count  Recasting Antiquity: Ancient Bronzes and Ritual Hermeneutics in the Song Dynasty by Jeffrey Moser, eventhough it’s a dissertation. 

top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: 1.) Harry Potter, because that’s what I grew up with and I would still choose from all the worlds. It always feels like home. 2.) Avatar: The Last Airbender - another thing I grew up with and I would adore. I wouldn’t need to have any adventures, i wish i could just bend elements and chill my life. 3.) Eragon (Inheritance Cycle). This one is just goals. Dragons?! Dragons. Please gimme.

tagging: everyone i am tagging is of course not obligated but am just putting here who i love getting to know better: @the-cloud-whisperer, @sassyassassy, @cortue, @intyalote, @isabellaofparma

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Catherines (part one)

[Heathers AU]

[Tour!verse]

Word count: 3469

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-Beautiful-

  “Dear Diary,

Catherine said she teaches people real life. She said, ‘Real life sucks losers dry. If you wanna fuck with the eagles, then you have to learn to fly.’

I said, ‘So you teach people how to fly?’

She said, ‘Yes.’

I said, ‘You’re beautiful.’”

  “GOD, come ON, Elizabeth!”

A muscled, gazelle-like leg slammed into Bessie’s back, causing her to flinch and drag her pen across the journal she was writing in, leaving a black line that obscured some of the words. Bessie wrinkled her nose, then squinted up through the headache-inducing overhead fluorescence to look at the beautiful young woman now standing before her.

Katherine Howard was a sight for sore eyes, that was for sure. Completely unblemished tan skin, wavy dirty blonde hair that fell like sun-kissed silk around her head, striking golden-green eyes, muscles… The hot pink blazer she was wearing fit her body perfectly, and the black skirt she had on to go with it swished gently around her powerful thighs. Technically, they were breaking the dress code, as she didn’t have on any tights to go underneath it, but no teacher seemed to say anything about it. Bessie had to guess it was because of Howard’s father’s status and money.

  “What’s your damage, Katherine?” Bessie snapped, though her voice cracked and wavered slightly, as it always did, rendering her comment about as effective as a baby white lion trying to roar to scare off predators.

  “Don’t blame me, blame Catherine.” Howard retorted smoothly. “She told me to, ‘haul your ass to the cafe pronto.’” She looked up at the other girl standing there. “Back me up, Catherine.”

  “Yeah, she really wants to talk to you, Elizabeth.” Catherine Parr said. She was taller than all of them, but quite a bit meeker than her two fellow K/Catherines. Her curly brown hair was done in a style that made Bessie’s scalp hurt just looking at it, but complimented her even darker brown eyes well. Her skin was the shade of melted caramel, clashing well with her signature color: blue. The blazer she had on such color was as expensive as Howard’s, but slightly more wrinkled and slightly frayed on one sleeve from her messing with the threads when she would read. The skirt she wore was plaid, which most people would find extremely ugly, but Bessie thought it fit Parr.

  “Okay, okay,” Bessie said, standing up from the staircase she had been sitting on. “I’m coming. And, please, Bessie. Call me Bessie. We’ve been friends for, what? A year and a half now? Elizabeth is WAY too formal for me.”

Howard and Parr giggled, making a small smile twitch on Bessie’s lips. She liked making them laugh. Proved she could do one thing right and serve as the comedic relief for the group.

Bessie scooped her belongings up, messily stuffing her diary and pen into her messenger back, and then followed Howard and Parr down the hallway. Anyone standing in the way instinctively moved away like peasants parting for a queen. And they may as well have been, seeing as they were the most popular girls in school.

Okay, well-- at least Howard, Parr, and their quartet leader was. Bessie was more of a plus one, a special exception, a stray they found on the streets and thought was too pitiful to throw away.

Their group was called the Catherines (pretty cool that they managed to get three girls with the name Catherine, right? what luck!), and they ruled Crown Ridge High School. Everyone, from new Year 10s to long-lasting Year 13s, knew of their reign--even the teachers! Nobody messed with them, because they knew there would be hell to pay if they did.

Howard pushed open the set of double doors coming up in front of them, and the trio passed into a world of chaos.

The lunch room was always like this- noisy, thundering, booming, any other synonym for loud… Kids were absolutely everywhere, crammed into the lunch tables or sitting at the bistro or standing in the lunch lines, all talking, worrying, planning, reacting at once. 

And then, in the middle of the mess, there she stood: Catherine of Aragon.

Catherine of Aragon, or Catalina de Aragon as her heritage suggests, was like a yellow diamond in a bat-infested cave. She was gorgeous, that’s for sure, her luscious dark brown hair tied back in a perfect ponytail with thick marigold scrunchy, without a strand out of place, and her fair skin enviably clear. Her eyes were dark and challenging, like twin pieces of polished onyx poised in her sleek skull. The golden silk blazer (Bessie didn’t even know they made silk blazers until she first saw it) she wore glittered in the lights, as if it were charged with electricity, and the black skirt matching with it made her look like the queen of a wasp colony. When she saw Bessie coming over with Howard and Parr, she gave a snake-like smile that only meant she was up to something.

  “Elizabeth,” She said, the only one to never use the nickname no matter how many times she was corrected, “finally.”

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, your majesty,” Bessie apologized. She tried to sound mocking, but Aragon didn’t seem affected by the title she was given. If anything, she looked a little satisfied by it.

  “I need you to write a hot and horny, but realistically lowkey note in Anna von Cleves’s handwriting so we can slip it onto Joan Asstley’s lunch tray when she isn’t looking.” Aragon told her, but even stuttering as she laid down her plan.

Anna von Cleves was on the rugby team and so hot she could turn even the straightest women gay. Joan Astley, on the other hand, was a thin, pale-skinned, weird-eyed outcast with no friends and hair as light as Bessie’s own--but natural. The two didn’t exactly mix very well.

  “Shit, Catherine, I don’t have anything against Joan Astley!” Bessie said.

  “Watch your language, little lion,” Howard teased.

Bessie’s ears flamed red. Ever since she got a new haircut, the Catherines would not stop saying the poofy hair on her head made her look like a lion cub.

  “You don’t have anything for her, either.” Aragon told Bessie. Then, abundantly blessed with smugness, she went on, “Come on, it’s be very! The note will give her shower-nozzle masturbation material for weeks.”

Howard and Parr exchanged smirks. Bessie glanced at them and sighed.

  “I’ll think about it,” She said.

  “Don’t think,” Aragon said. “Do.”

Shuffling in one of the lunch lines, Joan was getting ready to pay for her tray of food. She was dressed in a rather ugly clash of overalls and a pink floral undershirt. Aragon wrinkled her nose at the outfit in disgust.

  “Yuck,” She said. “Overalls.”

  “I’m wearing overalls!” Bessie yelped.

  “Yes, but they work on you,” Aragon said, patting Bessie’s head. “Elizabeth needs something to write on. Catherine, bend over.”

Parr sighed and bent over. A clipboard was shoved into Bessie’s hands, and Bessie had no choice but to use her friend as a portable desk and write the things Aragon began to say to her. When she was finished, she tore the page free and folded it up for Howard to deliver, which she did smoothly and painlessly without being noticed.

  “And now we wait,” Aragon said with a pleased smirk. “Come, ladies. I brought lunch.”

The four of them gathered at their claimed table, where clean, neatly cut sandwiches were placed out in each of their spots, along with some fruit and vegetable slices and cookies.

  “Turkey, ham, and cheese, mozzarella and swiss specifically, with a dash of mustard for Catherine,” Aragon declared. “BLT for me and Katherine. And then, a grilled cheese for Elizabeth.”

They all tittered at the last named food item. Bessie grinned cheekily at them.

  “What?” She said innocently. “At least I didn’t ask for a peanut butter and butter sandwich like last time!”

  “I still cannot believe you asked me to make a damn peanut butter and BUTTER sandwich,” Aragon said. “You are a creature, I hope you know that.”

  “I do,” Bessie giggled. “And it is GOOD, okay? I like butter!”

  “I’ll bring you a tub of butter when it’s my turn to bring lunch,” Parr joked, and she and Bessie flashed each other smiles.

  “I look forward to it!” Aragon rolled her eyes at them in an amused way while Howard chuckled and shook her head. Somewhere behind their table, a pair of kids at a booth were shouting about donating to a charity for Africa.

  “Blount,” Aragon said, “Guess what today is.”

Bessie watched the older girl grab the clipboard and flip to a new page, and sighed. “Lunchtime poll? What’s the question?”

  “Yeah, so what’s the question, Catherine?” Parr asked.

  “Goddamn, Catherine,” Aragon said. “You were with me in study hall when I came up with it.”

  “I forgot!”

Aragon snorted. “Such a pillowcase,” She muttered gruffly.

  “This wouldn’t be the bizarro thing you babbling about on the phone last night, is it?” Bessie tilted her head. 

  “Of course it is.” 

Aragon and Bessie stood up to begin, and that’s when Bessie noticed someone staring at them. It wasn’t exactly uncommon, what with them being the most popular girls in the school, but she didn’t recognize this gawker. He looked...different. Different in a way she just couldn’t put her finger on. And she was so focused on trying to figure out exactly what it was that she didn’t even realize she was careening to the side until she bumped into someone.

  “Oh-- Sorry!” Bessie said, then noticed that the person she had accidentally knocked into was Maria de Salinas, an old friend of hers. “Maria! Hey!”

Maria smiled. “Hi, Bessie.”

  “Hey, I’m really sorry I couldn’t come to your birthday last month.” Bessie blurted without even thinking it. Aragon rolled her eyes at her side. 

  “It’s okay,” Maria said. “Your mum said you had a big date. I’d probably miss my own birthday party for a date.”

Bessie felt a twinge of pain in her heart. She nudged Maria with a light laugh to try and get it to go away.

  “Don’t say that,” She said.

  “You know what?” Maria opened her bag. “I was looking around the other day and dug up these old photographs.” She handed a photo of her and Bessie during Halloween when they were younger, in which Maria was a fairy and Bessie was a bat.

  “Oh, wow!” Bessie exclaimed, looking down at the picture with sparkling eyes. “This-- Wow. It brings back so many memories!”

  “Come ON, Elizabeth!” Aragon said, yanking Bessie by the arm and making her drop the photo.

  “I was talking to somebody!” Bessie barked as she was hauled towards a table with a cluster of popular kids.

  “Oh well,” Aragon said dismissively. She halted them both in front of the table. “Hello, kids. Anne. Love your sweater.”

The head of the table, Anne Boleyn, glanced suspiciously up at Aragon before smiling tightly. She ran her hand over the sleeve of the designer emerald green sweater she was wearing.

  “Thanks,” She said. “I just got it last night at The Limited. Totally blew my allowance.”

Aragon nodded like she cared, then read off of the clipboard, “Check this out: You win five million from the Publisher Sweepstakes, and the same day that Big Ed guy gives you the check, aliens land on the Earth and say they’re going to blow it up in two days. What do you do?”

  “That’s easy,” Said another kid sitting at the table, Thomas Cromwell, before Anne even had the chance to give her own answer. “I’d just slide that wad right over to my father, ‘cause he is, like, one of the top brokers in the country.”

Aragon stared at him like a hawk watching a crippled mouse until Thomas wiped that stupid smirk off of his face. Bessie snorted lightly.

  “If I got that money, I’d give it all to charity.” Anne said.

  “You’re beautiful.” Bessie said.

Aragon growled deep in her throat. Bessie sidled around her and began walking to a new table. Aragon followed after her.

  “If you’re going to openly be a bitch…” Aragon began.

  “It’s just--” Bessie sighed, hoping to catch Aragon before she broke out on one of her furious tangents. “Catherine, why can’t we try talking to other people?”

  “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” Aragon spat. “Do I look like Mother Teresea to you?”

  “Well, you are Catholic, so…”

Aragon flicked Bessie in the nose, eliciting a tiny yelp of pain. 

  “We have a reputation to uphold here, Elizabeth.” Aragon said. “Don’t act stupid. I know you aren’t.”

  “Does it not bother you that everybody at this school thinks you’re a piranha?” Bessie asked.

  “Like I give a shit.” Aragon answered breezily. “They all want me either as a friend or a fuck. I’m worshipped here, and you can be, too. And you’re just a Year 11.” She ruffled Bessie’s hair, earning a disgruntled noise from the girl.

  “Come on, Catherine.” Bessie said. She brushed out of place white locks out of her face and looked up at Aragon. “Please?”

Aragon gazed down at Bessie, then wrinkled her nose. “Ugh,” She growled. “Don’t look at me with those big, stupid eyes of yours. Come on.”

Bessie beamed. “Thank you!” She chirped.

And so, they went around the cafeteria, asking the lunchtime poll question to a variety of new people, most of which looked startled that the two of them were even talking to them. They got an abundance of answers, varying from normal, to interesting, to completely weird. But they were the types of answers they had never gotten before this day. By the time they were done, Joan Astley had read through the note given to her and was starting to get up from her table.

  “Come on, come on!” Parr waved Aragon and Bessie over excitedly. 

  “It’s happening!” Howard whisper-yelled.

The four of them watched as meek little Joan staggered her way over to the jock table, where Anna von Cleves and other various athletes sat, talking loudly. The girl stuttered something to Anna, then set the note down, which was immediately snatched up by Francis Dereham. After a moment of reading, he burst out into laughter, followed by everyone else at the table when the paper was passed around. Joan’s eyes filled with tears and she ran out of the cafeteria.

The Catherines were all laughing, while Bessie just frowned, guilt racing through her. Aragon noticed her expression and sighed heavily. She began to run her long shellac fingernails through Bessie’s hair, straightening and smoothing out the mess on the top of her head.

  “You wanted to be a part of the most powerful clique in school, honey,” Aragon said. “If I wasn’t already the head of it, I’d want the same thing.” She made a tiny braid, then released the girl.

  “Who’s that guy over there?” Bessie asked, nodding at the young man that had been staring at them. She didn’t know how to reply to Aragon, so she just decided to switch the topics.

  “His name is Henry Tudor,” Howard answered her. “He’s in my Economics class.”

Bessie nodded slowly, picked up the clipboard form off of their lunch table, then began to walk over to the new guy.

The first thing she noticed was the trench coat he was wearing. The second thing was that he was built like a bear- large and powerful. His hair was golden blonde and he had piercing bright blue eyes. A smirk curled on his lips when he saw her coming over.

  “Hello, Henry Tudor,” Bessie said.

  “Greetings and salutations.” Henry replied languidly. “You a Catherine?”

  “I’m a Bessie,” Bessie said. “Not in a cow way, though, Just my nickname.”

Henry chuckled and nodded. “I see.” 

  “This may seem like a really stupid question,” Bessie said, raising the clipboard up.

  “There are no stupid questions.” Henry said.

  “You win five million from the Publisher Sweepstakes, and the same day that Big Ed guy gives you the check, aliens land on the Earth and say they’re going to blow it up in two days. What do you do?”

Henry furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard.” He said. “I don’t know. Maybe row out to the middle of a lake somewhere, bring a bottle of tequila, my sax, and some Bach. Then I’ll just sit back and watch the fires come.”

Bessie nodded, smiling, despite the weird gut feeling she had that was saying she needed to get away from this guy. “How very.”

Before Henry could reply, Aragon suddenly grabbed Bessie by the arm and swelled up like a venomous snake before Henry. “Let’s go, Elizabeth.” She said.

  “Okay, I’m coming,” Bessie said. “Later.”

  “Definitely.” Henry said back.

Aragon began guiding Bessie back to the table, where they finished eating with the other two Catherines. As she ate her sandwich, Bessie could feel Henry’s gaze on her, burning holes into her clothes, and that gut feeling turned into full on discomfort. It got so bad that she deliberately tried to avoid his line of sight while leaving the cafeteria, which caused her bump straight into someone for the second time that day. This time, the person was a lot less understanding than the first.

  “Hey!” He roared. “Watch where you’re going, you fat fuck!”   “S-sorry!” Bessie stuttered, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She suddenly felt a lot more exposed, as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all.

  “Did all that hair bleach kill your brain, too?” One of the guy’s friends snarked.

  “Or just fucking blind you?” Another said.

And then, the Catherines were there, materializing before them like a trio of vengeance-seeking angels in the lights. Howard eased Bessie behind her while Aragon riled herself up to her full size.

  “What did you just say to her?” Aragon asked, her words like a hidden bear trap underneath a blanket of leaves.

  “She bumped into me!” The first guy blurted in a woebegone voice.

  “Oh dear, what a disaster,” Parr mused.

  “How many times have I told you, Dudley, that she’s with us?” Aragon said. “Do you REALLY want to mess with us right now?”

  “No,” Dudley muttered.

Aragon was pleased. “Good. Now apologize to Elizabeth at once.”

  “Sorry I yelled at you,” Dudley said to Bessie.

  “Us, too.” Said his friends.

  “It’s okay,” Bessie said softly.

  “Wonderful.” Aragon smiled, but her voice was all murderous stalactites, sugary-sweet and poisonous. She pointed to each of the three in turn as she continued to speak. “Anyway. He was asking for feet pics in private messages, he is cheating on his girlfriend with his sister, and she is thoroughly sick of them both and wishes she had better friends to talk to.”

With that, she turned and escorted her clique out of the cafeteria and to the bathroom.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” Howard asked softly, massaging one of Bessie’s shoulders comfortingly. Her voice was gentle and so caring, almost like a mother’s. 

  “Yeah,” Bessie said. “I’m okay.”

  “Stupid bitch,” Aragon snarled underneath her breath, furiously pacing around the bathroom.

  “You aren’t fat, by the way,” Parr said to Bessie.

  “But--”

  “Don’t even try it Elizabeth,” Aragon hissed. “Or I will cut out your tongue, laminate it, and then pose it in my foyer, and don’t think I won’t do it.”

Bessie giggled softly at her threat. As strange and slightly violent it may have been, it meant Aragon cared about her. Because if she didn’t, Bessie surely would have been called fat again.

  “Okay,” She said. “But I’m fine, really.”

  “Good.” Aragon. “Fuckass doesn’t know who he’s talking about. You look great, Elizabeth. Even if that cardigan is questionable.”

Bessie looked at herself in one of the mirrors and saw that she truly did stick out like a sore thumb with the Catherines. If it wasn’t her bleached white hair, then it was her baby face, and if it wasn’t her baby face, then it was how she was slightly more chubby than the rest of them. Howard said it made her look soft and cute, and she didn’t ever know how to respond to that, so she would just laugh. And if it wasn’t any of that stuff, then it was her awful sense of fashion. Today, it was overalls, a black and white cardigan, and a light purple striped shirt, as purple was supposed to be her signature color.

  “I got it from the thrift store,” Bessie said proudly.

  “I am not surprised.” Aragon said. “You are not wearing that for the party tonight, by the way.”

  “What about--”

  “You aren’t wearing those galaxy suspenders, either!”

  “W--”

  “No!”

[scribble-blog]

A Bird in the Hand (is worth the Bee in your bonnet)

Hey everyone!!!!! Somehow I started writing a ChoDamian one shot (and then I just kept writing.) This is entirely the Maribat discord’s fault. Enjoy!

The first time Chloé meets Damian Wayne, he is 11 and she is 10 and they both hate the world and are desperate for their parents’ approval. He doesn’t talk to her but she can sense it on him like the sunny flora perfume masks her mother’s cold personality and unused heart, the way her daddy senses weakness in his opponent’s when it’s time for re-election, the way she finds out each secret her school mates have so they will never try to turn on her and hers. Damian hates the world, and wants his (polite, distant, but still somehow open) fathers approval.

The first time Chloé meets Damian Wayne she decides she hates him, too.

Their parents talk for what seems like hours and Chloé checks her nails with the bored expression her mother taught her and she doesn’t let Damian Wayne catch her staring as she tries to figure him out. He glares out of a window and doesn’t look at her once.

Infuriating.

The second time Chloé meets Damian Wayne, he’s at least learned to be enough of a gentleman to talk to a lady when presented with one. She raises her nose in the air when he (clearly forced by his father) asks her to dance at the Wayne Gala that her mother attends more for the sheer status of it than any true enjoyment. He holds himself a bit different, looks more human and less ready to rip out the throat of anyone that gave him a funny look. She opens her mouth.

“I’m not going to da-“

“Clary would love to go off and dance with you,” Her mother says sugar sharp behind her, and Chloé grits her teeth and takes his hand.

“I wouldn’t want to dance with you for all the money your daddy has.” She tells him, scathingly, to his face. “Be lucky you’re in my mother’s good graces.”

“I might be, for all the money my daddy has,” he returns coldly, his green eyes cutting. She misses Adrien, his mother who is warm like summer and his father who is brisk like autumn and him, Adrien, bright as spring. “But you aren’t.”

“Like you were waiting in a line to sweep my off my feet,” Chloé sneers. “Looks like we all have to do things we’d rather spit on to get mommy or daddy’s approval.”

His grip on her hand tightens infinitesimally. His face, already blank, shuts down further.

“I’ll count the minutes until we’re both free.”

She lets her manicured nails just dig in the tiniest bit. “Only if you’ll let me count the seconds.”

The third time Chloé meets Damian Wayne, he’s more human-like than ever before, but she supposed she’ll give him the year of growth since the last time they’ve run into each other.

Richard Grayson-Wayne has taken over while Brucey-Bear, as her mother simpers, is in absentia. They poor boy sweats as he talks to her mother, hashing our some business deal that his adoptive feather could have turned with a few easy words and a smile.

Her mother’s lips curl into a grin like a shark tasting blood.

“You should really be sending out warnings,” Chloé says flippantly. “If it’s going to get this easy now that your daddy’s gone, my mother could send someone who isn’t nearly as tough as her and they’d still run roughshod over your incompetent brother.”

To her shock and - delight, where did that emotion come from- he actually rolls his eyes. “If my ‘brother’ was fumbling any more, he’d be putting the whole company in your mother’s pocket.”

She startles them all with a surprised laugh, and stops it the second it’s out, but it’s enough for all three of them to look at her. Her mother, cunning delight, Grayson, surprised bemusement, and Damian Wayne, self satisfied and smirking.

After a second the two adults go back to talking and suddenly it is just her and Wayne, tasing quips about the way her mother is practically pouncing on this poor man like a lion on a gazelle.

“Shouldn’t you be against him being this bad at business?” Chloé finally says. “After all, it is your daddy’s money that being washed into my mother’s wallet.”

And Damian snorts. “I thought you didn’t care at all about my Daddy’s money.”

She gives him a sidelong glance. “Well, I don’t at any rate.”

The fourth time Chloé meets Damian Wayne, it’s been four years and he’s apparently been presumed dead for half of it. The later half, but now both he and Bruce Way are available for her mother to shove her towards, and so she goes. She’s tired of Hawkmoth, tired of Paris, but also already tired of New York with her mother, and Damian looks so... drained. So unlike the boy she once gave one sharp laugh to.

“Cory doesn’t mind, do you, darling,” Her mother titters and Chloé grits her teeth.

“Her name is Chloé,” Damian says, and Chloé’s heart skips a beat.

“It’s just a little nickname,” her mother laughs it off. Damian’s eyes are on her, and she can only guess at what he sees.

“We’re old enough to wander away while the adults are doing business now,” he tells her, scowling. She takes the hint and starts marching away, letting him follow her. There’s a small park right outside the building, and she misses Parisian air but this is the closest substitute she can get.

“You lives with your mother, right, Wayne?” She asks him once they’re both on a bench outside, away from the looming presences of their parents. It feels easy and freeing to say these things here, where she doesn’t live, to a boy she’s met three times before and shared one laugh with. “Was it easier or harder?”

He grimaced, but doesn’t answer immediately. She, for once, gives someone a bit of time and space.

“My mother is not a good person.” He finally says. “Her rules were easier. My father’s are more rewarding.”

She desperately tries to pretend she doesn’t want to cry. She has never wanted anything but her fathers time and her mothers approval. Damian seemed to have his fathers approval, and at least when he had been with her, his mothers time. “What if there aren’t any rewards. What if no matter what you do you only get the same thing, over and over again. What if it’s all good things but you don’t care anymore.”

He looks uncomfortable. She realizes she’s let a tear fall and she hardens herself again. “Ignore me. I- I didn’t say anything.”

They sit in silence. When his phone vibrates and he tells her their parents are done negotiating, they take the elevator back up in silence. She exchanges her polite goodbyes with Mr. Wayne.

Damian catches her shoulder before she walks out again though.

“Stop thinking about the rewards. Just find something good. And hang on to it.”

She thinks immediately of the few times where she became Queen Bee. The few times where she did something unequivocally right.

She’d already lost it.

The fifth time she meets Damian Wayne, she’s been Abeille for three months.

It had taken time to convince Ladybug. Time to convince her classmates. Her- employees. But she was trying to hold on to something, no matter how fragile.

She finally got it when she’d stumbled into the bathroom just in time to see Marinette transform into Ladybug.

“A bathroom, Dupain-Cheng?” Chloé had said in shock. “Hardly high security.”

Marinette had screamed.

Chloé hadn’t even, like, blackmailed her into giving her the comb. She’d just- kept her mouth shut. Kept the secret. Made an excuse or two for Marinette when she was dead on her feet.

There’s been some akuma that just wouldn’t quit, and Ladybug has shown up at her window. She’d said yes. New suit, new look-

Abeille.

And now she was looking at Damian Wayne, who made her- wake up, who reminded her of why she’d felt good as Queen Bee, who- was looking at her.

“Bourgeois,” he greeted. “Not even a welcome?”

“My mother isn’t here to force us to play nice,” she teases. She should be - running away, should be playing the part of the bitch, should be doing anything as long as it doesn’t allow Damian to bring up her weakness from before.

Instead she smiles. Friends are weird like that, she’s realized since Marinette Chose her again. “What brings you to France?”

“Some extended business of my father’s” he shrugs. She remembers the way he had hunched petulantly at 11, looking half ready to attack someone if it got him out of their first meeting. He looks- better now. More whole. Less feral. “It’s a long term deal, I believe. A month, at least. I believe we’re searching for a school I can temporarily attend lessons at, while I’m here.”

“Our daddies can pull some strings. You should come with me to Francois DuPont.”

The thing is, she means it. She imagines being able to see Damian’s dumb face everyday and it’s not a bad thing. She imagines him meeting Mari and Adrien and she doesn’t cringe away.

The next day Mme. Bustier announces a new students.

Chloé has met Damian Wayne countless times before she realizes she wants to hold his hand.

And possibly, like, save him from Akumas but in a Superhero sweeping off their Sweetheart way more than her everyday “let’s save Paris” activities.

Marinette, the traitor, laughs at her.

“It’s normal to have a crush on someone who you like, and you enjoy their company, even if I don’t get it,” Marinette makes a face, probably thinking of that rocky first few days. Why was it whenever Chloé brought a friend to class they immediately and very accidentally made an enemy of Marinette? Was it just rich boys in general?

Adrien was encouraging, but the boy was so wholesome and supportive he might as well be a house foundation. Chloé couldn’t tell if he was behind her because he thought it would work or because he just wanted Chloé to be happy and this is what Chloé wanted.

But for once, Chloé is scared.

Adrien was safe to latch onto. Adrien was her brother, her friend, her constant and confidante.

Damian Wayne is, without question, a much worse crush to have because it’s real.

She suddenly regrets ever making fun of Marinette and her inability to hold a conversation with Adrien.

She doesn’t stumble and fumble and bumble but she does start glaring at him whenever he comes near her and she starts ghosting him because she doesn’t know how to handle this-

And then Robin starts showing up to Akuma fights.

It’s funny, how absolutely angry someone can make her. At one point, that someone had been Marinette. After that, Lila before she, Adrien, and Mari has dethroned her. And now-

“Watch out,” she snarls as Robin steps in at just the wrong moment, again. She manages to avoid him with her venom but only barely, and the akuma breaks away.

After the battle, she hunts him down. “Listen to me, Birdbrain. Ladybug might have accepted your help, and you might have a few years on us as heroes, but when Ladybug makes a plan- you follow it. This is our home, our villain, our fight, and you stepping in it like you understand what’s going on and how we work is going to get somebody hurt.”

“Abeille,” Ladybug says softly, and Chloé almost growls.

“No. I’m tired of him waltzing in like this, usually ruining the plan and setting us back. Either he steps up and starts acting like a part of the team, or he stops showing up at all, because as much as you hate to admit it, he’s doing more harm than good.”

Robin’s face twists, and she can just somehow feel that he’s going to say something that will make her angrier, and without thinking, she punches him. It cracks the knuckles of her hands, blooming with dull pain, and he cradled what looks like is going to turn into a nasty bruise on his cheek.

She bounds away before Ladybug or Chat or, god forbid, Robin could say anything else.

She finds herself later on Mari’s balcony. She gets fed cookies and swaddled in blankets and Mari just- listens. About Damian. About Robin. About her mother.

Damian lets her know two days later that he’ll be returning to Gotham in a few days. Ladybug tells her the same thing about Robin when they meet for patrol.

“He wanted me to pass on his apologies,” Marinette says gently. “He looked so awkward the whole time too. Said he wasn’t very good at making friends or keeping them and France didn’t seem to be helping him with either.”

It hits Chloé like a drum then.

Of course. Of course her dumbass friend was also a hero in his off hours. Was she ever going to make a friend who didn’t run around in a cape or a skintight suit?

“I have to go,” she says, and Marinette squeezes her hand.

She taps against the window she knows is Damian’s, for fucks sake, is he in a coma or something? He finally opens it, and she tumbled in and takes a chance.

“I know you’re Robin,” she says, and she watches him tense up, his eyes shifting as if looking for a way to lie. She doesn’t let him. “Pollen, buzz off.”

The transformation drops, and she is not Abeille. She is not a Bourgeois. She is just Chloé, standing in front of him.

“I think I’m in love with you,” she says, more honestly than she’s ever said anything. “And I have no clue what to do about it.”

He laughs, sharp, just the once, and her shoulders raise up, and she gets ready to- she doesn’t know, maybe throw herself back out the window?- when he grabs her hand.

“Chloé,” he says wryly, “your right hook is incredible.”

And then he kisses her, and she can’t exactly argue about that.

“We’re going to Gotham,” Chloé slaps the papers down in front of Marinette. “We took down Hawkass, Adrien’s already agreed, fuck the class-“

“Is this a kidnapping?” Marinette says calmly, stitching elegant embroidery into a pair of shoes. “Or do I even get a say?”

“You have a say. Your say just happens to be, ‘yes, Chloé, I’d love to run away to Gotham with you and Adrien to escape Paris and the memories of the terrorist who ruined our lives.’”

“There’s actually a pretty great fashion program at the university there,” Marinette says, handing her an open envelope, and Chloé sees the acceptance letter.

“You got in. Actually, fuck, you knew I was gonna do this and you applied preemptively.”

“Yes, Chloé, I’d love to run away to Gotham with you and Adrien to escape Paris and the memories of the terrorist who ruined our lives,” Marinette says. “When is Damian expecting you?”

Chloé just groans.

TAGLIST:

@ash-amg @vixen-uchiha @redscarlet95

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Princess Ahmanet

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Universal really shouldn’t have tried getting on the shared universe bandwagon, huh? The restarted attempt at the Dark Universe was a bomb, but if nothing else, it did give us one thing: the sexy, evil mummy Princess Ahmanet, a villain so cool she deserved a better movie. Of course, as much as I enjoy Ahmanet, and as decent as I think her movie is, I don’t think I truly get Ahmanet… So I decided to call in some help. For this Psycho Analysis, I have enlisted the aid of Ahmanet’s #1 fan and probably the only person on Earth who loves the 2017 attempt of The Mummy: my wife, @lilmissrantsypants!

She did basically all the work aside from this intro and some closing thoughts; the Actor, Motivation/Goals, Personality, and Final Fate sections are all her words, not mine. Of course, I’ll throw my two cents in at the end, but really, wouldn’t you rather hear a character summarized by their biggest fan than by someone who’s just a casual fan?

Actor: Sofia Boutella has been in a few films prior to The Mummy (2017), such as Kingsman: The Secret Service (her breakout role, really) and Star Trek Beyond, but this was her biggest role yet in my opinion. Boutella really enjoyed Ahmanet, which is obvious by her high praise of the character in interviews. She has said Ahmanet is “the definition of a feminist”, which I don’t know if I agree with necessarily since she’s not really doing anything beneficial to women, but I understand what she’s trying to say since previously, the character of the mummy has been played by a man. She also believes this because Ahmanet was denied the chance to be Pharaoh purely because she’s a female (which occurs when her father produces a male heir) and, rather than playing the victim, she takes things into her own hands. She says Ahmanet is “strong, powerful, and opinionated”.

She proved to The Mummy (2017) director Alex Kurtzmann she was perfect for the role through her performance as Gazelle in Kingsman. She showed compassion or anger purely through her eyes, which was a trait he wanted for Ahmanet. She also has the ability to move slowly and powerfully, which is similar to how ancient Egyptian royalty moved, which is something she likely learned as a dancer.

One fun fact I discovered while looking up how she feels about the character (which I knew, but needed a refresher on) is she’s 37. I honestly had no idea. I thought she was my age (28)! She looks so young in this role (and all roles, really). She’s truly a beautiful soul.

Motivation/Goals: Ahmanet’s motivation is set up pretty clearly in the beginning of the movie. She was to become Pharaoh to take her father’s place and was to be praised as a living god as his only heir. But he produced a son who, simply because he was born a male, would become Pharaoh instead. As it is narrated in the movie, “Ahmanet understood that power was not given. It had to be taken.” She makes a deal with Set, who is incorrectly named the Egyptian god of death (come on, really? Everyone knows the Egyptian god of death is Anubis), who basically gives her god powers and brands her with hieroglyphic tattoos from the ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead. To hold up her end of the bargain, Ahmanet must perform a ritual to bring Set into the body of a mortal. She attempts this after killing her father and her brother (and, honestly, probably her father’s lover/wife, even if that wasn’t shown). Since she was captured and buried alive, she never got to rule as Pharaoh. However, she still had her end of the bargain to hold up, which was mainly her motivation for the movie (as well as her main goal).

Strangely, she chooses Tom Cruise’s character, Nick Morton, as her Setepa-i (or “My Chosen”) and proceeds to mess with his head to get him to give in to her so she can perform the ritual and Set can enter his body. One minor goal she picks up along the way is to kill Jenny purely because Nick has the hots for her and because she keeps preventing the Egyptian queen from achieving her goal.

Personality: You know, I hate to say it, but Ahmanet doesn’t have much of a personality. This is probably because she’s so focused on achieving her goal. I’m sure when she was alive in ancient Egypt, she was a fascinating person, but we’ll never know what she truly is like. In the movie, we see a mix of character traits from her. One, and probably the most prominent, is how regal she is. Ahmanet doesn’t really run in this movie. She always walks with her head held high, even when Nick and Jenny are freaking out and running away. She’s always in control, and she makes this extremely obvious by simply walking everywhere. One of my favorite scenes that really shows her regality happens near the end of the movie. The undead skeletons of the Crusader knights let her into the underground dig site to retrieve the jewel from Set’s dagger. Even when her “people” are just skeletons she’s demanded to come “alive” and serve her, she still walks with purpose. Her head is held high and the expression on her face tells you she is queen and she knows it. It’s absolutely beautiful.

Another character trait is manipulation. This is purely done with Nick since he’s her chosen and she’s trying to sway him to her side. She’s got the ability to break out of any situation, but she still puts on the puppy dog eyes and tries to reason with him or guilt him into helping her. She’s often in his head, both before and after she escapes from her sarcophagus, showing him images where she’s actively seducing him. Probably my favorite part is when she’s bound in Prodigium’s headquarters. She’s fully capable of releasing herself, but as Nick is crossing a walkway to escape, she gives him the most innocent, pleading look you’ll ever see from Ahmanet. She probably would have gotten him to help her if the fire blocking Jenny’s way hadn’t simmered down. As soon as the two continue leaving after Jenny snaps Nick out of his trance, Ahmanet screams in anger and easily breaks herself free.

It’s really hard to write about her character since, like I said, she doesn’t have much of one, so these two character traits really are the most I can say about her. I suppose you could also say she’s selfish and narcissistic since she’s really not thinking of anyone but herself through the whole movie (even to the point where she rationalizes killing her newborn brother by saying, “They were different times”)..

Final Fate: I wonder what would have happened had Set managed to completely take over Nick’s mind and body, but that’s not what happened in The Mummy (2017) canon. If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll know Ahmanet achieved her goal (even if she wasn’t the one who actually did it). Nick battles with Set for control over his mind and ends up winning (thanks to Jenny mainly since he sees her dead body and remembers her telling him he’s a good man). He easily defeats Ahmanet since now he’s got all of Set’s powers and sucks the life from her just like she did every single person she killed (but slower so we can see her decompose). She ends up being buried in her sarcophagus again where she will, unfortunately, stay since Dark Universe has basically died yet again. RIP Ahmanet.

Best Scene: My wife shockingly didn’t pick these next two things out, so let me just say I’ve always liked the opening that details her origins, as well as the scene where she apes Imhotep and makes the giant cloud of debris; that shot was in a lot of the trailers, and her strutting with her arms outstretched really goes to show how she’s a villain who deserved way better than she got.

Best Quote: Basically any time she breathily utters “Setepa-i,” which Boutella makes uncomfortably hot. Frankly I’m not sure how Tom Cruise managed to resist that. Oh wait, that’s right! Tom Cruise is an idiot and terrible with women.

Final Thoughts & Score: While I’m doing the overall final thoughts, here is what my wife had to say:

“As hard as it was, I wrote this as fairly as I could without any personal bias. I absolutely love Ahmanet and I would have loved to see more of her in the movie, but Tom Cruise warped things around so he got all of the screen time and Sofia Boutella got hardly any. If I was giving the score, she’d have gotten a 8.5/10 (even though I want to give her a 10/10, not really having a personality really takes away from a perfect score).”

Generally speaking, I do agree. Ahmanet is a fascinating character on paper, and Sofia Boutella really manages to sell her with her performance, but she unfortunately has the misfortune of having to share the film with the egotistical manlet known as Tom Cruise. Cruise really did twist things around in this film so he could get more screentime, because as we all know, Tom Cruise is starved for starring roles in big budget movies and definitely needed the exposure compared to a woman who is best known for playing side characters. I mean, she’s only playing the title character, let’s cut out tons of stuff that could have expanded on her so we can see Tom Cruise run!

I’m very salty about it. I think there were good ideas for a film in here, particularly her being a female monster, which as of this writing is a bit of a novelty; aside from the Bride of Frankenstein, there aren’t really many notable female Universal monsters, or classical sort of horror monsters in general. If anyone else had been in Cruise’s role, I think Ahmanet could have been fully realized as there wouldn’t be a money-grubbing Scientologist jerking the director around. Sadly, as written, she is a bit half baked and underutilized despite being the titular monster, though thankfully Sofia Boutella is able to salvage what works and make Ahament at least moderately entertaining. I’d say she deserves a 7/10. I can’t stress enough that Boutella really carries the character even when there isn’t much there, but I can’t really justify much higher because her screen time is so limited and, like my wife says, she lacks a clear personality.

I’d never say this movie is as good as the Brendan Fraser Mummy movies, but I think it deserved a lot better, especially considering Boutella’s character being so much more engaging than the heroes. At the very least, she got a solid showing in the video game adaptation of the movie, The Mummy Demastered, which is a Metroidvania made by Shantae creator WayForward.  At the end of the day, Ahmanet is just an underutilized and underwritten villain carried by an actress giving it her all, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, she could have been so much better.

[thecomicsnexus]

Tales in the sand

SANDMAN #9 SEPTEMBER 1989 BY NEIL GAIMAN, MIKE DRINGENBERG, MALCOLM JONES III AND ROBBIE BUSCH

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

In Africa, a boy undergoes a ceremony meant to make him a man. He is circumcised, and then his grandfather takes him out into the desert. The boy is tasked with finding a certain object, and once he has found it, he will be told a story which is only ever told once, and during this ceremony. The boy discovers a piece of desert-glass, which the grandfather reveals is part of a glass city that was once the home of their people. That city had been ruled by a woman named Nada, who had never found love. One day, a stranger came, and when Nada laid eyes on him, she knew that he was the one she would love. That night, she didn't sleep, but when she went out to find the man the next morning, he was gone.

Nada consulted with the Bird King, and he had all of his birds report on whether they had seen the man. All but a small weaverbird said no, but the weaverbird had seen him. The bird told of how it had seen the man disappear before its eyes. The Bird King realizes what this man is, and advises Nada to seek love elsewhere.

Sadly, Nada returned home, but the weaverbird followed, and told her of a certain tree whose berries were known to bring those who consumed them to the sides of their loved ones. The bird brought Nada such a berry, and when she consumed it, she awoke in the Dreaming. She found her way to a castle, where she asked the ruler about the man she was seeking. He removed his Helm, and revealed that he, Dream, was the man she loved - and he loved her too. However, once Nada realized that she had fallen in love with one of the Endless, she shied away. She turned herself into a gazelle, but Dream took the form of a hunter and caught her. She returned to her human form, and thinking that he would not want her if she were not a virgin, she broke her hymen with a sharp stone. When Dream caught up with her, she was surprised to hear him say that her virginity didn't matter to him. He healed her, and they made love all night. The rest of the world dreamed of love because of it. When the sun rose, it saw what they had done, and knowing it was wrong, it beat down and melted the entire city of glass. Nada watched in horror, knowing that the death of her people and the fall of her city was the result of their folly. Anguished, she threw herself from the mountain top, and died against the rocks below.

When she woke in the realm of death, Dream came to her and asked her again to join him as his queen. She refused, knowing that more pain would come as a result of their union. He asked again, warning that he would punish her with eternal damnation if she did not agree. She was forced to say no, and so was condemned to Hell for eternity. 

The boy is displeased with this story, but his grandfather tells him that the story must be told just so to his own son. It is hinted, though, that there is another version of the story passed down among women - one that may have a happier ending.

REVIEW

The poor boy couldn’t get the end of the story, but we did on issue 4:

I like the simplicity of the narration in this issue. Very easy to follow, just a few characters. But makes a lot of things very clear.

Even the characterization is good, there are ways of speaking (and thinking) that were custom made for these characters.

One small detail that I really found interesting, is the fact that the women tell the same story but with a different ending, but we don’t get to know, because the story is only told from man to man. That says a lot. What if many events in history were passed orally from generation to generation, but we get half of it because it is only told by the winning or the predominant side. Well, I am pretty sure that happened (and will continue to happen).

I give this issue a score of 9.

[amandlas]

just your neck, and my beloved

tfota | jude x cardan, post-reconciliation, nsfw, prepare to be okay with a lot of things real quick (ao3)

[give or take three years after twk. title from “my beloved” by mansionz]

First rule was to trust each other. Needless to say, that had been their greatest obstacle. It took long months to build mutual understanding.

Rule two was to never perform an act of malicious intent. No matter their depraved tastes, as Cardan put it, it should not be from a place solely of anger or intent to hurt.

The third rule was simple. Be safe. Always.

Cardan drew his slender finger down her throat. “I would like to try it.”

They were in the King’s room, their room, Jude having just come out of the bathroom from brushing her hair. She was dressed lightly, in a thin silk sleeping gown that stopped high up her thigh. Her hair was unbound, voluminous and shiny from her bath that evening. He, on the other hand, was completely bare already, prepared for her, skin hot. Cardan had planned this. Under his finger, she shivered.

Jude was only a bit surprised. Obviously, she and Cardan weren't new to such feisty experimentations. All of them had been successful experiences so far, new additions to their lovemaking. There had been tying, blindfolding, and gagging. Even some light slapping, which she discovered to have an inclination to, as long as it was on her body and never to her face (Cardan was the one who preferred that). Yet no choking until now.

“On me? Or me on you?” she cleverly asked.

He gripped her jaw and brought her inches from his face. She felt the sweet whisper of his breathing, the heat of his skin close to hers. But instead of kissing her, he turned her head so he could lick at her cheek. She was his favorite taste.

“Wicked angel. I want you to hear me tonight, my dearest mate.”

So on her then. He was already herding her in direction of the bed, gaze burning and hands skimming her sides. Jude smiled. Yes, she was in a mood. Tonight she could allow it. She could let him deliver the sweetest punishments to her body and soul.

“Relinquish,” he spoke.

She followed. Jude scooted to the middle of their bed, familiar with the outcome. In the beginning, they made the mistake of indulging themselves on his side of the bed, close to the edge. Cardan had been pounding into her from behind, Jude on all fours, forcing her further and further off the bed, until they somehow found themselves on the floor.

The memory brought a sickly smirk out of her. He noticed.

“Jude?”

She tilted her head. “I remembered when you made me crawl all over this room as you fucked me.”

His insides turned to fire at the thought. His nose skimmed her neck. “You couldn’t walk after.”

Jude’s toes and fingers curled.

Cardan kissed and bit down her clavicle, the exposed parts of her chest. He slowly peeled open her sleeping gown. “No crawling tonight. But it might be another part of you impaired tomorrow,” he whispered against her naked stomach, and his gaze fell to her throat.

Under him, his wife shuddered.

He adored her like this. It was intoxicating to be allowed power over her, power to bring her pleasure, ecstasy, and bliss. Because at it’s core, that was what filled Cardan with fire the most. Turned his insides to blaze. Seeing her react to him, watching her facial expressions alone when taken by elation he was causing birthed lightning in his veins. And when she screamed? When she begged and sobbed, bit her lip or clattered her teeth? When she trembled under his skin or shook with release? Cardan did not know a higher euphoria. He was never as lustful as the moments when he gave Jude the most pleasure.

Which is exactly why he took his time. Jude’s body was no stranger to him now. He delighted in spending the longest time teasing her, licking and scratching. His wife opened herself to his ministrations, allowed his fingers and then his tongue inside her body, the ordeal occupying an hour. She only came after he allowed it.

Cardan’s tongue skimmed up her center, trailed over her belly, her chest, up her neck, and ended on a bite to her jaw. Jude moaned.

“What do we say, dearest wife?” he said against her cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He pinched her side.

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Thank you, husband.”

“For your initial mistake, repeat yourself.”

Jude’s eyes were droopy, half-lidded already. “Thank you, husband. Husband.” She wished to trail a finger down his face. “Thank you, my husband.”

Heat pooled in both their groins. 

“Open,” he ordered. She spread her legs.

“Wider.”

She was already excited, doing as told. He climbed over her body with his. She curled both legs over his thighs at his command. One of Jude’s ankles was gripped by his tail, like it would keep her from running away. As if she would ever run away from this.

Cardan’s gaze. A study in hunger. Lions stalking after gazelles could learn from him.

Jude found herself uneasy then. The self-consciousness lingered. They had done this hundreds of times yet Jude always itched with a feeling of vulnerability. At being seen naked by her own spouse. Was it weakness? She hoped not.

Jude was hugging herself when Cardan entered her.

He was having none of that. After burying himself inside her fully, he stopped, relishing the simple feeling of being as close to her as possible. Of feeling complete. “I will have all of you, my love,” he said prying both hands off her chest.

Heart exposed, Jude blushed, like she often still did.

Both his hands settled around her throat, fingers going to their places. “Tap my back three times if it's too much.”

Her hands still rested on the bed, near her head. She was the image of nonchalance, of accidental beauty. Still, when his grip tightened, she made no move to signal discomfort.

He began with an unhurried thrust. “Remember,” he commanded, exiting her body slowly, pausing, pushing himself inside once more, “you do not come unless I say so.”

Her eyes closed.

Cardan repeatedly plunged into her and it was a divine feeling. Though he attempted to keep a cool exterior, his true self was howling, sensitive to both his own and Jude’s lust. She was having trouble inhaling around his grasp, emitting a small rasping sound. Hands at her side, she took it. Her eyes steadily fixed on his. It heated every part of his being.

She liked it. She really really liked it. Against her better judgement, though her eyes were fixed in an expression of helplessness, she bit her lip. A sure sign that she enjoyed this.

Cardan deepened his movements.

“Slap me,” she choked out.

His gaze fixed on hers with disbelief.

“Slap me,” she squeaked out again.

Never in a hundred lifetimes could Cardan believe himself to be this lucky. He loved her. He loved her.

One hand left her throat, then smacked across her right breast, groaning. He did it again, three times, each one harder and faster, each time eliciting a response. Her skin was red.

“Good girl,” he snarled at her, choking her again, a wicked smile on him, "Lovely queen of mine.”

Jude was trembling, was under him, was his and only his. If only he could keep this memory forever.

She saw his desire at her desire. It struck her insides, filling her belly with sparks, a tether about to snap.

As his grip on her throat increased, so did his thrusts. The bed moved. Her eyes were becoming glazed over, a sign they both already recognized. Finally, they reached the point where Jude could not take in any air.

Cardan was fucking her hard now. His pace steady and leveled but each thrust was intense, so powerful he moved her whole body each time, dipping her into the mattress.

It was nothing short of blissful.

She could not speak, breathe, make a single coherent thought. Her body buzzed, exploded. Petrified with the closest thing to heaven she could ever hope to experience.

“Not until I tell you to, dear,” Cardan reminded his wife.

Her hands twitched. They started trembling next to her head, within his line of sight. He saw the intensity of her face, her lack of control over her now spasming hands.

Sweat rolled down his forehead. He smiled at the sight, tightening his choke-hold.

Her hands jerked violently now, her face full of pleasure and pain, an open mouth gasping for air that won't come.

For a small second, Jude's eyes rolled to the back of her head. Cardan saw, and groaned loudly.

“Don't come yet,” he growled. If only he could keep her for longer, enjoy her another minute, just a little more—

But at his words she did the exact opposite. She peaked, legs quivering over his, eyes shut closed. If she could, she would’ve moaned.

He immediately stopped, hands leaving her throat, and she immediately gasped for air. Cardan felt her as she climaxed around him, surprised. He stayed still, allowing her release, knowing she loved the feel of him still hard in her as she came.

She came down with rough, loud gasps, eyes still closed. When she opened them and saw his face she grew a bit cold.

“You disobeyed me.”

“I—I’m sorry my love,” she pleaded. “I’m sorry.”

Cardan was panting hard. He looked her up and down, still in her, still unreleased and lustful, soaking in her disobedience.

A lion, about to strike.

“I must be compensated, and you punished.”

She quivered, desire coursing through her again. “Take me again,” she said with penitent eyes, “the same.” Her hand reached for his, softly tugging it back to her, resting it on her throat. “...Please.”

The realization dawned on him. She loved it. He choked her and she enjoyed every minute of it, and was now begging for more. Suddenly the world stopped around him until there was only them. There was only ever them. He pulled out.

“I will have you as I wish, wife.”

Cardan turned her over, face down and back exposed. Without losing a second, he pushed her legs open using his knees, settling in between. He ran a possessive hand down her back, from neck to rear. “Beautiful.” He repeated the motion, claiming her. “All mine.”

Under him, Jude moaned. Then moaned even louder when he possessively gripped her hips up, pulling her to him. He pierced her again. They both groaned in unison. He forced her up, back up into him so they both knelt on the bed, together with her facing away. One of his long arms crossed her chest, the other lower down on her belly, his mouth falling to her neck. Jude delighted in being so close to him, covering each of his arms with hers, like a hug.

Cardan secured her to him and began making brutal love.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she moaned unrestrained. Her throat itched when she spoke, but could not care less. She gladly took everything he gave her. Every rough jab, every inch of him inside her.

His thrusts were no longer steady, no longer prolonging. They were savage. His entire soul consumed by madness. Cardan fucked into her fast and deep, filling her again and again, groaning at the deliciousness of taking her this way, like they both needed saving.

Even though he wasn't choking her anymore, Jude could not breathe. She couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. His hands were off her neck, but she found herself unable to.

His arm held her up to his chest, her face tilted up, looking at the heavens. She looked like a sacrifice.

They were intensity in flesh and bone.

She was so overtaken by his pounding she went limp. Her arms fell to her sides, moving loosely in tandem to their fucking. It drove Cardan insane, only encouraging him. His tail curled around her left thigh, keeping it close.

“We are perfect together,” he managed to drawl out, panting into her ear. “We are perfect and we belong to each other. You are mine and I am yours.” Each statement was pronounced with a particularly hard thrust.

If she had been overwhelmed before, this was impossible to withstand. She had so little control over herself she couldn't even make a sound. She was dizzy. The staggering feeling of being battered into close to killing her.

She loved him. She loved him, and the feeling threatened to drive her mad. She loved him and he loved her, and in this moment it was choking the life out of her. She loved him so much she forgot how to inhale.

“Absolutely perfect, Jude,” he kept repeating, over and over. When she made no sound to that, he realized she wasn’t breathing.

Jude felt it again, coiling in her abdomen, the red heat of it, their movements taking her quick and hard. When her vision blurred and darkened at the edges, she knew she was close, and then—

Cardan gripped her hip roughly, to draw her attention, never stopping, and he gritted out: “Breathe, Jude.”

At his words she drew in a gulp of air at last, the sensation of being filled now spread to every place in her body. Her head was suddenly clear. The dam broke. Using that same air she unleashed a wail that resounded in each corner of the room and beyond.

His scream followed hers, releasing himself inside her as they both exploded with sound, and colors, and sparks, and trembles. Together, they fell forward, his weight pressing her down into the sheets. He continued moaning, but it was Jude who was yelling, voice muffled from facing the bed, shaking with desire still. It always took her longer to calm down.

Long after, still shaking, she turned around and pulled him to her in embrace. She dug her face into his neck, hiding in him. “I love you,” she said weakly.

He could no longer feel his chest.

He ran his fingers down her hair, over her exposed shoulder. Soft caresses. Soothing affection. “Heart of mine.”

“I love you,” she said again, still with trouble. “And I loved it. I loved it. Cardan, I loved it so much.”

She often said that. It wasn’t new, but he would never get used it hearing it.

Cardan had ginger tea delivered to their rooms the next day. “Symptoms of mortal throat infection,” he waved at the servant. Technically not a lie. From her place in bed, behind the raised teacup she drank from, Jude smiled.

[thechurchillreview]

I saw Atomic Blonde (2017) via Redbox this morn with a roommate. Quick thoughts about it. SPOILERS obviously.

Charlize Theron trained exceptionally hard to be the titular Lorraine Broughton. This was in fact a passion project for her. Her performance is top-notch. The action sequences she's in are stunning. Brutal. Inventive. Sometimes oddly beautiful. Musician/composer Tyler Bates adds yet another impressive score to his resume! Wowzers. The songs for the soundtrack are fantastic. They accompany memorable action sequences and a couple of good quieter moments.

But...

Atomic Blonde stars Charlize Theron as a spy in 1989 from a 2012 graphic novel (The Coldest City) written by a man (Antony Johnson) with artwork by a man (Sam Hart) with a screenplay penned by a man (Kurt Johnstad) with a director that is a man (John Wick originally uncredited co-director David Leitch, Atomic Blonde is his solo directing debut, he is attached to 2018's Deadpool 2 as director). Which explains a lot. *Sighs*

Her first appearance is in a bathtub so we can observe her battered bruised body, yet it continues by having her still nude form get out to have a drink and light a cigarette while standing in front of a mirror. At first, it didn't feel salacious then towards the end of the scene it did. Later on, in the protagonist's second totally needed (coughs) ice bath, the camera perspective comes off as completely gratuitous. Her contact James Percival (James McAvoy) is shown in bed with two topless women as a blanket hides his own genitalia: it is implied that the night before is why he's running late.

And during Lorraine's mission, in a nod to my least favorite stuff from James Bond films, she has sex with a French woman named Delphine Lasalle (Sofia Boutella, Gazelle from 2014's Kingsmen: The Secret Service, Princess Ahmanet in 2017's The Mummy) to solely gain information from her. Initially, at least.

However, this part feels passionate. Real. Not a means to solely an end like Lorraine tells Delphine. That was my takeaway.

Earlier, the agent James Gascoigne that was killed appeared to have a physical relationship with Lorraine. Anyways, this indicates that Lorraine is likely bisexual! Which the movie doesn't make a big deal about and that is why it is noteworthy.  

Better than declarations from Deadpool's director Tim Miller and Ryan Reynolds that their lead is comic book accurate pansexual as his goal involves reconnecting romantically with Vanessa after securing the cure from Francis. The lyrics of his rap theme song Teamheadkick wrote heard in the flick reinforce his heterosexuality that promised to be more too. Yes, I remain livid about this. 

“Hey goons, thugs and bosses, Guess what, I brought Colossus! Times up, better count your losses, Kickin' that ass as my girlfriend watches. Run away, you know that I'll chase, Every bad guy, but 'em right in their place, Revenge, I'm gonna give you a taste, I'm sexy as hell, but I cover my face.

About to take you all to school, with guns and knives, Deadpool... Tellin' jokes and breaking the rules, I came for the tacos. Deadpool... Playin' with the ladies and the family jewels to bust a nut, Deadpool.... 'Bout to throw down with all these fools, So come an' get some. Regenerate, because it's cool, When I fall off a ledge, Deadpool... The crazy ass guards all lookin' to duel, So click, click, boom! Deadpool... I don't believe in the golden rule, I came to get laid. Deadpool... Note to the ladies, I'm not a tool, I'm a sexy motherfucker.”  2016's Deadpool was written and directed by heterosexual men. No one remotely close to the representation Wade Wilson was meant to embody was clearly involved in the movie's creation. Even though they claimed Wade Wilson would be done right this time around. 

Lorraine's spoken words of "You didn't have to kill her..." is a sentiment I too shared since, yep, Delphine, a LGBT woman of color and the only other prominent woman in the narrative, is of course killed. You took a positive and wrecked it y’all. Ugh! She manages to fight back then we’re forced to view her slowly being choked to death before Lorraine can arrive in time. It was heartrending to observe... 

Said decision is likely another James Bondian callback. How most of the women James uses tend to die. For instance, there’s the golden dead body of Pussy Galore that was on several damn movie posters for Goldfinger (1964), Sean Connery’s debut as James Bond. It is on the Wikipedia for the flipping motion picture! Contessa Teresa “Tracy” di Vicenzo (Dame Enid Diana Elizabeth Rigg), a woman Roger Moore’s 007 marries in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969) is murdered in the closing moments by Blofield and Bunt. 2006′s Casino Royale starring Daniel Craig’s Bond does this infuriatingly twice: once with Solange Dimitrios (Caterina Murino) and again towards the conclusion with Vesper Lynd (Eva Green). Additionally, this specific choice to remove Delphine in Atomic Blonde through this method painfully and angrily occurs often with both women and LGBT characters in the majority of media already. 

Still, this echoes what actor Michelle Rodriguez said a few years ago about women in motion picture roles. I am paraphrasing what Michelle declared. Specifically how there needs to be more women in director and writing positions. How men emphasize making women sexy via outfits versus wearing practical clothing (Lorraine's heels, some of Lorraine's strange attire choices that wouldn’t work that well for fighting). There’s a line about what Lorraine should bloody wear to meet the Queen. As a juxtaposition, there’s a scene in the 1979 James Bond flick Moonraker in which he meets Her Majesty in the nude. *Rolls eyes* How the majority telling and orchestrating stories remain largely white men and they essentially write women as a love interest (or with someone) or they slay them during the story. There is a real imbalance in Hollywood regarding this. This has unfortunately infected Atomic Blonde.

Besides Lorraine and Delphine, there's the aforementioned topless nameless women and one other woman in the tale being told. The remainder are exclusively men. James even mocks women in one really aggravating scene that takes place! 

What makes everything worse is that we've had women in similar action film roles done more justice. Less sexualized. Glamourized. Such as Beatrix Kiddo. Katniss Everdeen from the Hunger Games series. Judge Cassandra Anderson from 2012's Dredd. Ellen Ripley from Alien and Aliens. Heck, even Charlize Theron's own Imperator Furiosa in 2015's Mad Max: Fury Road! To list a few examples. It is true that the films they were in had men write their characters. Although in the case of Beatrix Kiddo a.k.a The Bride, she was created by both Uma Thurman and Kill Bill Vols. 1 and 2 director/writer Quentin Tarantino.

On top of that Atomic Blonde’s pacing isn't great. I actually realized my eyes were getting heavy despite being wide awake at the start. The dialogue is functional or blase, at best (”You can’t un-fuck what’s been fucked”). Nada quote worthy. Boasts an uninteresting villain: I didn’t even include the character’s picture above because said individual is such a snore. The writing tries to be too clever at points and is ultimately confusing when all is said and done. My verdict is that Charlize Theron's transfixing acting and sterling action work alone cannot save Atomic Blonde. Neither can its presented aesthetic nor tone. 

Atomic Blonde, is worth a rental, basically. 

P.S. The soundtrack and score, as I typed earlier, are SUPERB. I don’t wish to spoil anything else about either. Give both a listen sometime. 

[elletromil]

Magic Fingers - Final Part

Yessss my good peeps! You aren’t dreaming! Here’s the last part of Magic Fingers, finally!

Seriously after the madness of the reel and KSS, writing this one was incredibly fun and relaxing.

I hope you all like the ending

@virgosista​ @gentlekingsmen​ @agent-eggy​ @lady-mephistopheles​@insanereddragon​ @zombiisheep​ @agentdagonet​ @trekkiepirate​

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Final Part

Slaving in the kitchen as he is, Merlin doesn’t really know how Harry’s date is going, but judging by Percival’s little smile every time he comes in to pick up the plates, it can’t be going too badly. Not that he has really been worried since the lad has accepted a date after months of getting to know Harry. He obviously wants to take their friendship a step further as much as Harry does.

He is willing to bet the date is going to end with at least a kiss and maybe more if Eggsy can convince Harry to drop the gentleman act.

He’s just putting in the lava cake into the oven when Harry burst into the room, looking at the cabinets as if he’s seriously thinking about climbing into one and never coming out.

“What are you doing in my kitchen?” He shakes his head at Gazelle who is closing in on Harry. Sure he hates anyone that isn’t a cook or a waiter stepping in here, but judging by Harry’s look of panic, it’s a better idea to deal with whatever issue he is having than let Gazelle kick him out through the back door. Anyway, busy as they currently are, he cannot really afford to let his best cook deal with the trash.

“Hiding,” he’s eying up the large sink now and Merlin barely resist the temptation to push him into the soapy water.

“Why?”

“Because I am fucking everything up?” He waves his arms around wildly, nearly slapping Gazelle in the face and Merlin moves him into an empty spot of the kitchen before she can stab him not so accidently. Not that he would blame her, but blood really was a bitch to clean out and one never knew when inspectors were around.

“What did you do?” He was actually surprised that he could have done something bad enough to ruin the date. Merlin would never admit it out loud, even under torture, but Harry extremely charming when he wanted to be. And right now, on a date with the lad that had him bewitched for months, the charm had to be turned up to its highest level. “You couldn’t have done anything too terrible since Percival isn’t in here now, hitting you with a pan.”

He hears Gazelle sniggers and catches something that sounds like ‘ if only ’, but since Harry doesn’t seem to notice, he decides to let it slide.

Not that he would really have done anything. Harry is a big boy, he could totally fight his own battles alone.

Though Merlin is starting to have some doubts now that he can see how poorly Harry is dealing with actually going after his own happiness.

“I haven’t done anything, in fact it’s going nicely and-”

“So why are you freaking out? I mean, I might be wrong, but that’s usually what someone hopes for in a good date.” At Harry’s blank look, Merlin sighs and specifies, “for things to go nicely.”

“But that’s the problem! It doesn’t feel like a date! Except for the change of venue, it feels exactly like it does when we are having coffee together…” He trails off, looking lost and heartbroken but it just makes the urge to drown him into the sink stronger.

It’s with relief that he sees Percival enter the kitchen, his frown making it obvious that he heard the last of Harry’s little freakout. He should feel bad pushing the bag of issues Harry currently is on his husband, but he’s got lava cakes to worry about right now.

“Harry, you are the dumbest man alive.”

“What? What did I do now?” Even if it’s Percival that has just insulted him, Harry is still looking at him. It’s a golden opportunity to get on his case, but it’s unfortunately one he’ll have to pass up.

“Darling, please tell Harry why he is being a complete idiot, I can’t deal with him right now.”

Percival eyes light up like it’s Christmas and he actually takes a deep breath before launching into it.

“It feels the same, you dumbass, because they were dates too. You might not have acknowledge them as such, but dear gods Harry, you have been more or less dating the boy for months now. It’s time you fucking own up to it. It’s a bloody miracle Eggsy hasn’t lost all interest already. So now that this has been cleared up, you’re going to go back to your table, have fun together until one of you crack and fucking kiss already because everyone is bloody tired of you mooning.”

Gazelle actually lets out a little ‘ woot ’ at the end of Percival’s little tirade and Merlin has to roll his eyes in exasperation when Harry shot her a look of utter betrayal. Sure they’re on friendly terms, but Harry is disrupting the whole kitchen right now. Gazelle is too much of a serious worker not to find it annoying. He should count himself lucky she is also too much of a professional not to have got on his case too.

But Percival’s words clearly made an impression, because soon enough, Harry strides out of the kitchen, his confidence restored.

For once, Merlin breaks his rule of no public displays of affection in the kitchen and he leans closer to Percival to brush a light kiss against his cheek.

“My hero.”

It escapes him before he can stop it, but his slight embarrassment is well-worth the hilarious picture that Percival makes as he walks out after Harry, two plate of lava cakes in hands, looking more smug than any man should be allowed to.

*

“Fuck me, that’s so good!” Percival isn’t usually in speaking range after putting the plates down, but people usually don’t take the first bite while he still hasn’t properly let go of said plates. From anyone else, it would have earned them a dark look for their lack of manners, but there is something so genuine in all of Eggsy’s actions that Percival is willing to let it slide this time. It helps that even Harry, Mr Perfect Gentleman himself, is just looking fondly at his companion for the night. Though his expression changes slightly when Eggsy continues what Percival chooses to take as high praise for Merlin skills. “Can I marry the cook?”

“Too late, he’s already taken.” He’s not one for bragging, but he waggles his ring finger, making Eggsy snort with amusement, even if he does his best to look mock-disappointed. “But for some reason, Harry here is still his best friend and he might deny it, but Merlin is a big softie. If you continue to go out with him, his spoiling of Harry will spill over you.”

At the tease, all traces of amusement leave Eggsy’s face, making it clear that this was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m not- I’m not going out with Harry to get stuff or favors or-”

“Eggsy,” he interrupts him gently, before he can work himself in a worse state or before Harry can jump in his defense. “please forgive me. It really wasn’t what I was implying.” It had been meant as a jab at Merlin and Harry’s relationship far more than it had been about Eggsy. “If you had not been genuine in your affection, you would already have left the restaurant crying.”

For some reason, the belated threat seems to reassure Eggsy greatly, even if it’s Harry’s turn to take offense at his words.

“Percy…”

“No Harry. Loathe as I am to admit it, you’re my friend. I would never let get hurt if I can prevent it.”

Sure, people might doubt their friendship if they were simply to listen to him talk to Harry, but that’s because the man is an overbearing drama queen if he’s let to his own devices. He needs people to take him down a notch or ten, and it’s a task Percival delights in doing.

But no matter his faults, Harry is also a great friends. They might not share the same bond as the one between him and Merlin, but he’s still family.

And Percival would do anything to protect his family.

Even from themselves.

“And the fact you are my friend is also the reason I will tell you this. Stop trying to sabotage yourself, you fucking nitwit, and make sure Eggsy knows how much you are enjoying your time together tonight so that he knows you want another date.”

He leaves then, because he’s already lingered too long at the table, but he just goes far enough that he’s not disrupting any of the other clients’ dinner but can still see what is happening at Harry’s table.

It seems like Harry has decided not to be difficult for once, because he’s holding Eggsy’s hand between is and whatever he is saying is making the boy positively beam.

Still he lingers a while, right until Harry lifts Eggsy’s hand to his mouth to press a light kiss against his knuckles and even from where he stands Percival can see that both of their cheeks are flushed with pleasure.

He smiles then, nodding at no one in particular before going back to the kitchen.

They’ve definitely got it from here.

[that-shamrock-vibe]

Movie Review: Atomic Blonde (Spoilers)

Spoiler Warning: This is a movie that doesn’t need two separate reviews but there is a bit I want to talk about that delves into spoiler territory. I am posting this review a few days after the movie is released in the U.K. so if you haven’t yet seen the movie don’t read on.

General Reaction:

Most definitely a movie I’m glad I saw. When I saw the trailers for this movie I was hoping to get the same enjoyment out of it as I did back in 2014 for Lucy, I can safely say I did and it wasn’t just the same takeaway either because whereas Lucy gave us Sci-Fi/Action, Atomic Blonde gives us Spy-Action Thriller and is it great that the two movies distinguish that separation for the two leading ladies as Scarlett Johansson and Charlize Theron have more or less been the same type of actress up until now. I was always pushing for Theron to get the Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel role as I feel not only would she have added another strong female talent to the MCU but also I really want to see her in a superhero role. Yes Atomic Blonde is based on a graphic novel but this is more in the same domain as Kingsman as opposed to the tights and flights that Marvel and DC give us.

Now I say this movie reminded me of Lucy and Hollywood has been trying for a while to turn some of its up and coming starlets from roles who are always cast in secondary or love interest roles to leading ladies and apparently the way to do that is by making them the leading lady of an action movie while avoiding making them femme fatales. Lucy for Scarlett Johansson as I said, Salt for Angelina Jolie which didn’t work out so well and actually I’d say Wanted is a better argument for her if not for the fact that movie belongs to James McAvoy, now Atomic Blonde for Charlize Theron. All three of these actresses have had great roles as secondary characters. Johansson is of course fantastic as Black Widow in the MCU, Jolie was apparently great in Wanted (still haven’t seen it yet) as well as Maleficent which for me is still her best role. Also many may argue that Lara Croft was Jolie’s turn at becoming a stand-alone action star but 1) I am not counting franchises otherwise Johansson as Black Widow would be up there on my list and also not many people particularly liked her portrayal as the character. Theron meanwhile I have followed since her portrayal of Queen Rovenna in the Huntsman movies, but she then peaked my interest with Furiosa in Mad Max: Fury Road. I haven’t seen Fast 8 purely because I haven’t seen anything to do with that franchise but going into this movie I never felt as if she couldn’t handle the responsibility whereas with Johansson there was a lot riding on it for a career outside of the MCU and maybe even a solo Black Widow movie...which she proved she could handle only to let it all fall away with Ghost in the Shell.

Cast:

Also unlike Lucy there are more than just two main characters who I could focus on in this movie. With Lucy there was Scarlett Johansson and then Morgan Freeman as a side-character. Here there was Charlize Theron, James McAvoy, Sofia Boutella, John Goodman and Bill Skarsgård who I heard was in this movie and noticed him but noticed him for being cute and it wasn’t until the end credits where I realized who he was as I’ll be probably having nightmares about him in a month’s time thanks to his portrayal of Pennywise in the new It movie. Regardless he did a very good job as a side character and in fact everyone in this movie did a good job with the roles they had. I know there were other names in this movie like Toby Jones but I didn’t include him before because he didn’t impress me, he always plays the sort of middle-management low-key role.

The movie belongs to Charlize Theron and this is evident in her first scene because from when we first meet Lorraine to the time she goes to the interrogation room there is no speech, it’s all just facial expressions and the way Theron moves around. The fact she bathes in ice water is a very strong visual and her standing naked looking at herself in the mirror beaten up is also another strong visual. Also the reason I love good spy-dramas so much is because it always leaves the audience asking questions and waits for a pay-off which this movie did very well with the flashbacks while also going back and forth from them to the present day interrogation scenes.

James McAvoy is fast becoming one of the U.K’s best exports for America because not only can he do a great wholesome yet multilayered Professor X but also when he’s allowed to he can do the feral roles very well. Maybe it’s the Scottish in him but I haven’t seen him in a role of this capacity since Filth back in 2013. There were a lot of throwbacks to that for me here but also making him an antagonistic character was refreshing for me as again I’ve always seen either the hero or anti-hero whereas here he was definitely the bad guy. Also he gave me a laugh out loud moment towards the end when he’s fighting Sofia Boutella’s character who has literally stabbed him in the back and when he’s trying to get the knife out he stumbles back and pushes it further in...hilarious.

Speaking of Boutella, this is probably the best performance I’ve seen of Sofia Boutella and there’s not even a bar for her to reach. I thought she was a great henchwoman as Gazelle in Kingsman but I don’t remember he speaking, then she did speak in Star Trek: Beyond and was probably my favourite character for her design alone but here she ticks all the right boxes for me, to the point where I was sad with how her story ended. Now of course I can’t talk about her role without talking about her lesbian love scenes with Theron and the reason I didn’t talk about this with Theron is because I was actually compelled by how convincing Boutella was as a lesbian. I don’t mean that in an offensive way I just mean I found her performance believable, if not extremely raunchy.

Best Scenes:

So I didn’t want to give everything away with this review because as is the case with the spy genre there are a few surprises but I wanted to talk about my favourite scene in the movie which is about 2/3 of the way in and is the scene where Theron’s character Lorraine is trying to save the “asset” Spyglass who was shot by James McAvoy’s Percival and she takes him into a building and possibly from them entering the building it’s all one continuous shot for 15-20 minutes. This scene puts Marvel to shame as until now they’ve been the one to do continuous shots either in the Netflix shows or Captain America: Civil War. Seriously this stairwell fight is one of the most epic scenes I’ve ever seen and the fact it’s all done with one camera, like the point where Lorraine and Spyglass are in a room and Spyglass is patching himself up while Lorraine is covering him from the gunmen and the camera swivels to the door which is being shot repeatedly and when it pans back to Lorraine she’s moved across the room. The scene ends when a car chasing them gets crushed by a lorry as you see the camera switch to another shot with the car flipping around but seriously I was in awe for about 20 minutes.

Also, because I love the spy/espionage genre, some of my favourite scenes were those that utilized techniques associated with the genre. Yes they didn’t use flashy gadgets but instead tricks of the trade. Not knowing who you can trust even if they’re supposed to be your partner is rule #1 in the spy handbook and utilizing a crowd as a diversion is also another great trick. As such another of my favourite scenes was the umbrella scene that Lorraine set up with Bill Skarsgård’s help to shield Spyglass which incidentally is the scene that directly precedes that 20 minute one-shot scene so yeah that chunk of the movie is my favourite. It combines both grand espionage techniques of trusting no one because Lorraine didn’t trust Percival enough to tell him the plan and the diversion technique which is brilliant.

Recommendation;

This may not be a movie up there with the big blockbusters of the year but it is definitely up there among my favourite movies of the year, I think if Wonder Woman wasn’t the epic that it was this would have surpassed it but I think Theron here proved she could easily hold her own against Gal Gadot in terms of leading action heroine.

Overall I rate the movie a 9/10; this was a fantastic cast lead by a brilliant leading lady. It was another great star on the board for epic spy stories even though franchises like 007, Mission Impossible and Kingsman are keeping the genre alive but these stand-alone films, particularly female led, keep the genre fresh./ 

So that’s my review of Atomic Blonde, what did you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Movie Reviews and other posts.

[scarfninjawrites]

Scarfninja’s Jukebox/Music Writing Tag

Inspired to do this tag by @shaelinwrites even though I wasn’t tagged (you can see her post here). Of course, this gave me a great excuse to my another playlist on 8tracks again, which you can listen to here. 

The rules are:

1. List lyrics that best describe your characters from your manuscript (doesn’t have to be current)

2. List at least three characters/lyrics

Also, thanks to @sarahkelsiwrites for creating this. I love doing these sorts of posts so I hope to do it some justice. Here we go!

HOPE : “So you can throw me to the wolves/Tomorrow I will come back/Leader of the whole pack" Throne - Bring Me the Horizon 

To be honest, this song could pretty much describe like 90% of my characters. But seeing as Hope literally drags herself through hell, I think it’s best suited for her.

Hope is from the first arc of my first, giant project, which I refer to as The Saga. She’s the first of eight chosen to change the system of magic within their world. A bit of a stoic, you might be shocked to see how protective and loyal she is to her friends and family.

Also she has lightning magic. get it?

LOLA: “And I don't give a damn about my reputation/Never said I wanted to improve my station"  Bad Reputation - Avril Lavigne 

The second heroine of The Saga. Fun fact: Lola is actually the protagonist of the very first book I ever wrote. Also, like her successor, Rouge, I primarily associate her with the color red.

Lola is the closest thing I have to an anti-heroine. She has less gripes with doing morally gray things if it means achieving her goal. Admittedly, her motivation, returning ancient relics to where they belong, is a pretty pure one. But she has no problems with killing or blackmailing people, and she’s certainly not afraid of standing up to people.

She’s been discriminated against for her entire life for being a halfling, so she’s pretty jaded. 

ANDY: "One breath in this moment/We'll stay 'til we're chosen, and through it all/With our eyes wide open/We'll fight 'til we're broken/We rise and fall" Rise & Fall (Krewella Mix) - Adventure Club (feat. Krewella) 

The Saga’s third heroine, and another halfling. She’s also a knight, and has a strong sense of morality and holds her ethics in high regard. Probably the most honorable of the six Saga heroines.

Needless to say, Andy is not afraid of dying in battle if she thinks it will help. She takes her status as a knight and bodyguard super seriously. I can’t talk about her too much without getting into some spoiler territory, unfortunately.

I picked this song for her because I think it has a nice “breathy” element to it that she would really like. That’s probably a weird way of describing it, but it gets at her essence. 

SHARONA: "I'm such a star/Queen boulevard/Blaze through the dark/And never stop, it's how we ride/Comin' up until we die" Break the Rules - Charli XCX 

Sharona, or should I say, Princess Sharona, is The Saga’s fourth heroine and arguably its liveliest.

The best way to think of Sharona is if you take the easy-going nature of Son Goku and mixed it with pre-Angel Cordelia. Also while keeping Goku’s battle lust. Essentially, Sharona will do whatever Sharona wants. And if she’s bored, she will let you know in the bluntest terms possible. (”Yes, Mr. Prime Minister, this meeting is a complete drag so I’m going to leave now.”) If it weren’t for her older brother, Aodh , and his mastery of persuasion there would probably be more threats against her life.

Sharona is also easily distracted. Despite in being search of previously mentioned older brother, every time Sharona arrives in a new town, she immediately goes in search for the strongest person around to challenge them to a fight. And she will not leave town without fighting them.

In a contemporary novel, she would be your local party girl and upcoming Instagram model. Would constantly pose with her tongue sticking out and would drive a car with a detached roof just like music videos. 

CHRISSI: "I crawled over broken glass/To find a place in the sun/Was with me all along" Awesome- Darling Violetta 

The Saga’s fifth heroine has no magic or fighting skill, but she has a pretty unique skill. Chrissi is a “jademaker” or someone who specializes in making magically enchanted charms that help with the most mundane of tasks to enhancing entire armies.

In terms of personality, she’s a bit of a proto-Jenna; both are dreamers, and romantics at heart, are super optimistic about life and take a backseat to the hardcore action. Chrissi is a bit more confident in herself, however, and unlike Jenna, she got her formal schooling from going to an academy rather than a tutor.

Since the fourth and fifth arcs of The Saga have the shortest time gap (only four years), she’s actually introduced during Sharona’s story, and they have cute nicknames for each other - “Cupcake” and “Roni”. (Chrissi was only eleven at the time, cut her a break. Judge Sharona more). Despite all the teasing, Chrissi really looks up to her and wants to do well by her. In fact, Sharona was the one who encouraged Chrissi’s dream of studying and becoming a great jademaker.

CLARISSE/LIESE: "We play with fire/These yellow marks get glowing/Ember on the wire, I'm burning with you on this black tar road/When it feels this good, you don't let go" One Bad Night - Hayley Kiyoko

The last heroine of The Saga is also the youngest at fourteen. Until the night she was attacked by zombie (yes the story really goes there), she had no idea she was a fire mage. She was under the impression that her life would be normal (or rather, as normal as it can get in this world) and being inducted into an underground resistance was not part of that plan.

These lyrics were picked more for an on the nose reason - her fire magic. I think an older Liese would listen to a lot of Hayley Kiyoko and relate to her though, especially this song. More or less, she’s a pretty typical teenager thrust into a situation she’s unprepared for. Like Sharona, she thrives off of parties and people, though she’s got more tact and lacks Roni’s confidence.

Also, Liese is her nickname I chose because of one of my favorite video game characters. 

JENNA FELDBERN: "Waiting for love/Waiting for the same or/Dreaming on the other side/Hoping no matter how far I'll find my way to you/Following a rainbow" Rainbow - Colbie Caillat 

Hardcore romantic lesbian witch. Jenna’s story is probably the most easygoing I’ve ever written, and Elixir’s playlist (not the mini mix) has a lot of Colbie Caillat. This and One Fine Wire describe her best.

Jenna aspires to greatness, and wants to see if she has any secret witch abilities. It’s unlikely, considering the magic gene runs pretty low in her family. It was a major surprise that her mother was born a witch at all. Still, Jenna is determined to evolve her skills.

More to be revealed in my eventual All About My Novel post for Elixir of Heaven.

MELISSA: "My friends ain't gotta worry more/They meet outside the corner store/And walk the pavement, miss the cracks/I’d join them if I could relax" Hang It Up - The Ting Tings 

Melissa is from a short story I wrote called “From the Sidelines”. It’s essentially the story of a mistreated sidekick trying to do the right thing in the face of abuse and incompetence. 

In short, she’s Hermoine - super smart and gets everything done only for the “hero” to get all the credit. It’s only when she has her views challenged by the sidekick of the story’s villain that she has to really consider whether or not she can continue fighting the good fight the same way.

She also has a really cool friend she’d rather be hanging out with most of the time but can’t because of freakin’ Kevin.

ROUGE DELAVILLE: "We fight for the dream/We fight to the death/We fight for control" Fight Like A Girl - Emilie Autumn 

The second heroine associated with the color red. Rouge is from my Little Red Riding Hood reimagining Captain Rouge. Which is basically a retelling with sailing and magic.

She’s pretty similar to Sharona, though a bit more diluted. She’s also no where near as extroverted, and when actually trying to make friends, she struggles a bit. She’s kind of lonely. She’s also the only other noble character I have.

Still, Rouge has no problems speaking her mind, and has dreams of sailing across the oceans to see other countries. She’s definetely a fighter, and can often be seen training with either her gun or in hand-to-hand combat. She gets to sent to her grandmother to work at her shipyard, since her parents can’t tolerate her “bad attitude.” Rouge is also asexual and aromantic and has zero desire of being tied down in a political marriage, something that causes her endless stress. It’s also caused a strain in her relationship with her sister, Bianca.

I’ll be talking a bit more about her in my All About My Novel post for Captain Rouge, so I’ll cap it here.

MARIA VALENTINA: "Made of concrete made of gold/I am young and I am old/Preach the Son's eternity/You tell them lies/You tell them all" I Am Shell, I Am Bone - Gazelle Twin 

I’ve brought up this song a bunch of times, and I mentioned that it was one of the biggest inspirations for The Twilight Court, and specifically one of its main characters. I never revealed what her name was though.

Maria is one of the POVs in part 2 of the book. I can’t really tell you all that much more about her role, so here are some trivia facts instead: she’s also associated with the color red. She’s Italian and Catholic. Maria isn’t her real name. She’s unknowingly asexual and aromantic.

This was fun, so I might do another one soon, except with Disney songs.

Check out my other playlists!

The Twilight Court

Elixir of Heaven

Lola’s Novel (Dark Scarlet)

Also, I tag anyone interested in doing this.

[thanks--and--praise]

Backpacking with the saints

Speechless before a mystery that’s beyond my understanding, but not beyond my love:

"become a lover. As long as you see yourself as learned and intellectual, you’ll lodge with the idiots; moreover, if you can stop seeing yourself at all, you will be free” —Hafez

My God was too big to be confined- too ravishing, too rough-edged, too passionate in seeking relationship

God: “A remarkably deep and vast wilderness… an immense, unbounded desert, the more delightful, savorous, and loving, the deeper, vaster, and more solitary it is

“All wildness is finer than tameness. In God’s wilderness lies the hope of the world” -John Muir

“I flame above the beauty of the fields, I shine in the waters; in the sun, the moon and the stars, I burn. I, the fiery power, lie hidden in these things and they blaze from me” -Hildegaard von Bingen

One keeps me grounded in nature and the other in a wisdom tradition, a skilled habit of seeing.

Without the large text of creation we miss the vastness of the message and without the small text of the Gospels we miss its intimacy

“The one who seeks for God, has already found Him” —Bernard of Clairvaux

It is out of this longing, endemic to the Holy Trinity, that the created world emerges. God wanted hawksbill turtles and humpback whales, columbines and Queen Anne’s lace, angels and human beings, splendors and companions of every sort. All are incurably creatures of desire, wanted into being by the restless ardor of God’s own heart

Amid all the reasons not to leap, not to risk yourself to desire and its anguish — in spite of all the chances of being hurt yet again— you leap! You do it because God leaps first. God risks failure in love over and over again, on the cross and throughout the universe. The clutching and releasing of desire is the pattern of love everywhere. “Remember, it is by failures that lovers stay aware of how they’re loved. Failure is the key to the kingdom within” — Rumi

The Desert Christians knew that taking time to be alone allows things to surface that wouldn’t otherwise be available to su. Only then do “we become aware that our worth is not the same as our usefulness” —Henri Nouwen. Only in the deliberate choice of the cells o we discern the difference between the spaciousness of solitude and the isolation of loneliness, the glory of the one and the pain of the other

Poustinia: “a desert, a lonely place, a silent place” retreat for prayer

Yours is the task of blessing white oak trees and swallowtail butterflies, reindeer moss lichen and box turtles. You have to take it all in, make love to all of it, celebrate every blessed thing

Distribute gratefulness everywhere

Solitude has to bring us back at last to community, back to a connection with everything else

The most important “mountain” in one’s life offers no pride of accomplishment, only the unwelcome gifts of inadequacy and incompletion/ You learn over time that it isn’t the end. Every failure is an invitation to growth. Mistakes are occasions for grace, opportunities to choose a different path. They make forgiveness possible. Only in the absence of success can you know yourself to be loved without cause.

An utter simplicity is required of those who enter the presence of Mystery. You approach God in the vulnerability of your naked self, standing before a reality you cannot know, or even name. You “lift up your sick self, as you are, to the gracious God, as he is, iwhtout any speculation or special probing into any of the qualities that belong to your own being or to God;s”. Yet, by embracing this emptiness, he says, you’re surprised by an inexplicable love.

Nature’s stark indifference is as healing as it is distressing. Standing in the shadow of an old-growth forest, I don’t dwell on what “God” is or what “I” am or what the short-leaf pine tree is (in all the intricacies of its being). I’m simply present to the fact that Mystery is, that I am, that the pine tree stands there in its naked, nameless presence. That alone is enough. More than enough.It’s what continues to draw me to all things wild.

The presence of God isn’t something to attain anyway. You already are totally within it… just by living, by breathing. You don’t achieve it, you only consent to it

"The world, this palpable world, which we are won’t to treat with boredom and disrespect, is in truth a holy place, and we did not know it. Venice, adoremus"

“Never say ‘Matter is accursed, matter is evil’; for there has come one who said “this is my body””

“Love Christ passionately… in the very act of loving the universe”

“God is poured forth in all things and God is Himself everywhere, wholly”

“Activism is my rent for living on this planet” —Alice Walker

Righteous anger is an appropriate response to the environmental degradation caused by chemical, mineral, agribusiness operations in this area of the Midwest.

Julia “Butterfly” Hill preferred to love and befriend the trees themselves. In the late 1990s she lived for 738 days in a thousand-year-old California redwood named Luna

For justice to be sustainable, it has to be grounded in a fierce caring that affirms the dignity of everyone involved. The goal of restorative justice is the maintenance of a well-knit, cooperating circle of life. As a rule, even in the natural world, animals don’t seek vengeance. Nor do they take more than they need. Lions and gazelle know that they share a world where, ultimately, everything belongs.

There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread. Those who say religion has nothing to do with politics do not know what religion is.  — Gandhi

Restorative justice: A profound appreciation for all living beings, a community’s need to bring suffering to consciousness, risking oneself in the work of restoring community, the need for a spiritual discipline in sustaining community

Thomas Merton: In prayer we discover what we already have. You start where you are and you depend what you already have, and you realize that you are already there. We already have everything, but we don’t know it and we don’t experience it. Everything has been given to us in Christ. All we need is to experience what we already possess.

There’s an infinite metaphysical gulf between the “I” of the Almighty and our own inner “I”. Yet, paradoxically, our inmost “I” exists in God and God dwells in it

The most important truth one learns from the wilderness is the that the holy in “utterly within you and utterly beyond you at the very same time”

Something terrifyingly holy whispers inside, calling you back to a truth you’ve held back from claiming

You are the temple of the Holy Spirit. You are the dwelling place of the most High God. You are loved beyond measure by what you can’t even begin to understand. The wilderness you’ve sought throughout your journey has been with you from the start

Isaac son of Yekel, Krakow Poland

“Isn’t it interesting: The treasure was at home, but the knowledge of it was in Prague” This is the ultimate twist of folly: to realize that what you have sought everywhere else in your life has been at home all along. From the beginning, the mystery was yours, bearing you along on its restless energy. What you sought out there- on steep wilderness paths, in the feverish lives of the saints, under a bridge in the far-off city of Praugue- had been closer the you ever imagined. Having longed for a God of wild beauty, you discover the Lover to have been there all the while… in the longing itself”

You were here all along and I never knew it. How awesome is this place (Genesis 28:16-17)

You welcome the little disasters of the trail because they give you hope in facing the bigger ones in your life. They teach you through the trial and error of your inherent foolishness

You realize that if you can do it there you can do it at home as well… knowing that when you’ve run out of everything you have, what is left is enough. More than enough.

An undemanding presence may be the finest gift we ever give or receive

Discipleship can be deeply disturbing, fundamentally unsafe. They invite us not to contemplate but to follow. We will not understand them if we do not admit the category of danger into our theology. Few places in this world are more dangerous than home. Fear not, therefore, to try the mountain passes. They will kill care, save you from deadly apathy, set you free, and call forth every faculty into vigorous, enthusiastic action

Besides, that’s where the magic happens- out where trails become hard to follow

We may not be able to put into words what we’ve come to love. But as we lean against the white bark pine, our eyes follow the flight of the eagle above the ridge and we count ourselves happy to be alive. We recognize the wounds we carry as gifts. We acknowledge the wilderness we walk through as home. We honor the world we share with others as filled with magic.

Wonder is the wellspring of love… and love, in the end, is what drives us to a passion for all things wild and at risk — Abraham Heschel