#and going from 3 shadows to 2 with one fading away. really good

[fastercars]

Lorene Scafaria, director of “Living+,” on Still Watching by Vanity Fair

[aewon]

golden

heeseung x f!reader g: fluff, angst ⚠️ : cursing, kissing wc: 1.8k

—————————————————————————

Growing up wasn’t easy for you.

Your sister was the golden child, loved by all, hated by none.

You on the other hand were the “other” child in your parents lives.

The one who didn’t get as much attention no matter what you did.

You yearned for the affection and praise from your parents that your sister got daily.

Even in school, your sister was popular with many friends while you had a small few.

You knew your sister truly hated you when you confided in her about a crush you had sophomore year, and she began dating him a week later.

Everything you wanted, your sister got.

Every birthday she was showered with love and lavish gifts, while yours were days mostly spent with friends as less effort was given by your family.

Family…can you even call them that?

It was at 18 when you decided to go low contact with your family, your sister included.

You vowed not to let them hurt you anything with their lack of care for you.

You’re now in your senior year of college, and living without being in your sister's shadow has brought more happiness to you than you could have ever imagined.

She decided to pursue school out of state, while you stayed.

You’re going to be graduating top of your class, but of course your sister’s graduation is overshadowing that.

Which is why when you get the text from your parents inviting you home to celebrate your sister, you want nothing more than to say no.

But you know if you do, they’ll raise questions and it’ll be a whole repeat of the conversation you tried having years ago.

Before you left, you tried talking to your parents about your feelings. How you felt inferior to your sister in their eyes.

They, of course, vehemently denied any accusation of favoritism, claiming you were overreacting.

That was the end of that.

So, you suck it up, telling them you’ll be there.

Your apartment and school are a good hour and a half away from your hometown.

You make the drive the next day, dreading being in the same room as your family for the next 2-3 hours.

When you arrive, the house is already crowded.

You pass uncles, aunts, cousins.

None of them bother to greet you, making you regret coming already.

When you find your parents and sister, they make half an effort to greet you.

“Sis, I’m so glad you could make it,” your sister says.

“Congratulations.” You smile, albeit awkwardly.

Without even saying thank you, she rushes off to greet one of her friends.

You saunter away from your parents, finding a somewhat quiet corner to bury yourself in.

You’re scrolling through your phone when someone sits next to you.

You’re surprised to see Lee Heeseung, one of your sister's friends since high school.

You think he’s just sitting down to relax, but then he’s talking to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You look up, “…Hi?”

You remember whenever your sister had friends over, you weren’t allowed to talk to them because it upset her.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” Heeseung says.

“Yeah, I moved a couple towns away for college.”

“How have you been?”

“Great! I’m graduating this year.”

Heeseung, who's the same age as your sister, graduated before you.

“Congrats, that’s a big deal. Are your parents gonna arrange a party for you too?”

Your smile slowly fades, “Probably not.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “Why not?”

You want to tell the truth, the fact that your parents have never cared for you the way they do your sister.

The neglect, the lack of affection, you want to spill everything.

But, he probably won’t believe you, so you wave it off, “I’m just not really a party type.”

He looks like he’s about to say more when you hear your sister squeal his name from across the yard.

Before you know it, she’s rushed over, grabbing Heeseung by the sleeve and dragging him toward their friend group.

You sigh, it’s probably better you don’t talk to him anyway.

The hours drag on and your parents gather everyone’s attention, clanking a fork on a wine glass.

“We’re so happy to have everyone important to S/N here to celebrate her special day. 23 years ago we gave birth to the light of our life and everyday has been a blessing. Our daughter is smart, hardworking, kind and so much more. We can’t think of anyone more deserving. Please, a toast, to S/N.”

Everyone raises their glasses, toasting to her.

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help the tears that begin to form.

Getting up, you quietly leave the backyard, heading upstairs to your old room.

It’s empty, with nothing but a bed and dresser, no essence of you anywhere.

When you moved out, you made sure to take everything with you.

Now, as you sit on the bed, you let the tears fall.

You knew your parents didn’t care for you the way they did your sister. Yet, some part of you still hoped you had a place in their hearts, but clearly that was not the case.

This feels like a knife was twisted in your heart.

“Y/N?”

Heeseung’s voice interrupts your thoughts as he enters the room.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, coming to sit beside you on the bed.

“It’s nothing,” you say, wiping your tears frantically.

“You’re crying, Y/N, that’s not nothing.”

“Why are you here, Heeseung? Why are you talking to me?

“Because you’re sad, and I hate to see you sad.” His eyes are soft, looking at you like you’re fragile.

“You don’t even know me Heeseung, why do you care if I’m sad or not?”

Without warning he cups your face, pulling you forward into a kiss.

Your eyes are wide open in shock, before you relax in his hold, closing your eyes and enjoying the kiss.

Your lips move desperately, as he scoots impossibly closer.

You’re so drawn into the kiss, you don’t hear the footsteps making their way upstairs.

“What the fuck!”

You hear your sister’s voice and immediately break away.

“S/N-” You try to speak but she cuts you off.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’ve always told you to stay away from my friends and this is what you do in return. You know he’s mine.”

You look between her and Heeseung, stuttering out an apology before you rush out of the room.

Running downstairs, you hear footsteps behind you and you run into the living room.

“What happened?” Your father asks as S/N and Heeseung follow closely behind you.

“Y/N apparently thinks it’s okay to kiss another girl's man,” S/N says, huffing.

Your parents turn to you, disgust evident on their faces.

You know it shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

“Is this true?” Your mother asks.

“I…I didn’t know—” You’re grasping at straws, trying to defend yourself.

Everyone is staring at you, looks of disappointment on everyone’s faces.

You feel a new onset of tears coming down and without another word you rush out of the house.

S/N watches you go, then turns her attention to Heeseung.

“Are you okay?” She asks, “Did she force herself on you? I swear I’m gonna—”

“Stop!” Heeseung shouts, silencing everyone’s whispers.

“She didn’t force herself on me S/N are you fucking crazy? I kissed her!”

S/N has the audacity to look confused. “Why would you do that? You know you and I are—”

“We’re nothing!” Heeseung shouts. “We have never been anything more than friends and we never will be.”

“What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you actually like her? She’s a loser, why would you like someone like her?” S/N is blabbering at this point, saying whatever is in her mind.

Heeseung looks at her in utter shock, terrified that someone could talk about their own sister like that.

“You know what I think S/N? I think you’re a spoiled, bratty, insignificant human being. The fact that you could talk about your sister like that, your own family, is appalling. I don’t know what planet you’re living on, but this one doesn’t revolve around you.”

S/N is shocked, “What do you mean? I’m insignificant? She’s the one who’s insignificant!”

Heeseung smirks, “I get it now. You’re jealous. Jealous that she’s pretty, that she’s smart, kind, successful… everything you’re not. And it seems you’ve been nothing but enabled your whole life,” he says with his gaze on your parents.

With that, he heads out the door in your direction.

He gazes down both sides of the street, looking for your figure.

Heeseung finally spots you, on the other side of the road, down a hill that leads to a park.

He jogs, nearly tripping on his way down.

He approaches you cautiously, hearing your small sniffles.

You’re sitting on a bench, criss-crossed, head buried in your hands.

He sits next to you, “Y/N.”

You glance at him, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you. What S/N said isn’t true. We’re not together, in any way.”

You sit up, “Even so, we shouldn’t have been talking to each other in the first place.”

“Why? Because S/N doesn’t like it? Who cares what she thinks!”

“S/N has always been the favorite. Everything she wanted, she got. I.. I never meant anything to my parents, no matter what I did.”

“They’ve enabled her behavior, haven’t they?”

You nod, “For years, I just wanted some kind of acknowledgment from them. But I know I’ll never get it, especially not now.”

“You don’t need people like that in your life. You deserve to be surrounded by people who appreciate you and give you what you deserve,” Heeseung says, pouring his heart out in hopes you’ll understand.

“Like who?”

“Like me.” He smiles. “I didn’t kiss you for no reason. I like you, Y/N.”

Your beautiful eyes blink up at him, “Me? Why? We’ve barely interacted in the past.”

Heeseung leans back against the bench, looking up at the sky like he’s thinking.

“Well, it all started when I came to your house for the first time. I came into your kitchen for water and you were just standing there, looking beautiful as ever. We didn’t talk other than you saying ‘excuse me’ but I knew then that I liked you.”

For the first time today, you smile, a genuine smile.

“That was my first kiss.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened in surprise, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay. I liked it,” you say, reassuring him.

He smiles back at you, “Then, can I do it again?”

You don’t answer with words, instead leaning forward to peck his lips.

He chases your lips, pressing them together again, longer this time.

When you part, he looks blissful. “Y/N, would you give me the honor of taking you on a date?”

You lean into his side, snuggling into it as he wraps his arm around you.

“I’d like that.”

For once, you have something your sister doesn’t, and damn does it feel good.

—————————————————————————

note: hi, this is based off the number of reddit stories i’ve read about golden child’s and bullshit like that so hehe, enjoy

[meazalykov]

wrong number

bayern munich frauen x lena oberdorf x reader

1/6, 2/6, 3/6, 4/6, 5/6, 6/6

summary: you're the honorary bayern munich teammate.

the excitement fills your veins as you land in lisbon. 

you’re finally here, and it’s hard to believe. lena doesn't even know yet—you wanted to surprise her, to be there in person for the match of her life. it’s been a long journey from buying the ticket, keeping it quiet, and making your way to portugal, but every step felt worth it because nothing, absolutely nothing, would have kept you from being here to support lena in the champions league final.

hours later, you’re waiting anxiously in your hotel room when a knock finally comes. you open the door to find lena, looking tired but smiling, and her face lights up as she sees you.

"you made it," she says, stepping forward to hug you tightly. she lets out a deep breath, and you feel some of the tension melt from her shoulders.

"of course i did," you say, hugging her back, brushing a hand over her back. 

"how could i miss this? tomorrow’s the match of your life. are you nervous?"

she pulls back slightly, her smile fading as she flops onto the bed beside you. 

"yeah… a little," she admits, looking away. 

"it’s more than that, though. i keep thinking about the final in 2023… it’s like this shadow hanging over everything. it won’t go away." her voice goes quieter, and you see just how much she’s carrying from that day that you’re unfamiliar with.

you sit beside her, reaching out to take her hand. 

"do you want to talk about it? what happened in 2023?"

she nods, her gaze fixed on a spot across the room. 

"it was against barcelona, with wolfsburg. we were up 2-0, and then everything just… fell apart. they scored three goals in, like, eight minutes. i felt so helpless. all those months of training, just to lose like that. sometimes it feels like i haven’t shaken it off."

you squeeze her hand gently. 

"i can’t imagine how tough that must’ve been. losing on that stage, with everyone watching… it’s okay that it still hurts. a lot of people would feel the same. i also know that you’re stronger now."

she looks over at you, a small smile finally breaking through before giving you a light kiss. 

"thanks. i don’t know… i’ve tried to push it out of my head, but tomorrow feels like a chance to finally put it behind me. i want to prove to myself that i’m not that same person who let it slip away." she whispers against you.

you run your thumb across her knuckles, trying to pour all your reassurance into that small touch. 

"and you’re not. you’re here, stronger and smarter, and you’ve learned so much. but whatever happens tomorrow, you’re still amazing. i’m just so proud of you."

a soft blush colors her cheeks as she squeezes your hand back, her gaze meeting yours as her forehead rests against yours. 

"thank you. it really helps, having you here. more than you know."

after a while, she heads back to her hotel room for a good night's sleep, leaving you with a warm, happy feeling that stays with you until morning. 

it’s surreal, thinking back to a year ago when this whole thing started with a wrong number. now you’re here, in lisbon, to watch the woman you love play in one of the biggest games of her life.

the next day, you find yasmeen at the stadium entrance, her face lighting up when she spots you. she flew in from america just to keep you company, and you feel a rush of gratitude as you hug her.

"ready for the match of your life?" she grins, eyes sparkling.

"more ready than i’ve ever been," you laugh, feeling your own excitement build up. you’re both practically vibrating as you take your seats, and when the game kicks off, it’s all you can focus on. 

seeing lena on the bench doesn’t dim your excitement—she’ll get her moment, and you know it.

the game starts off tense. city’s vivianne scores in the 20th minute, and the bayern fans around you groan. you try to keep your spirits up, leaning forward and clapping.

"come on, girls!" you shout in german, even though your voice is quickly swallowed by the roar of the crowd.

yasmeen chuckles beside you, giving you a supportive pat. 

"you’re so into it already."

you grin. 

"it’s impossible not to be. they’re incredible."

just before halftime, bayern’s perseverance pays off. in the 45th minute, klara sets up a perfect cross, and pernille rises up to head it in, tying the score. 

you leap out of your seat, clapping wildly as yasmeen cheers beside you.

"yes! let’s go, harder!" you yell, grinning from ear to ear.

at halftime, a fan behind you taps your shoulder and asks for a photo. she’s wearing a lena jersey, and you assume she just wants a picture with "lena’s girlfriend." 

you’re hesitant but smile and take the photo with her. when yasmeen teases you, you roll your eyes and laugh it off, though you can’t deny you’re a little flattered.

"look at you, getting famous," yasmeen nudges you. 

"you’re practically the team’s mascot at this point."

"shut up," you laugh, feeling your cheeks warm. 

"all i am is lena’s slightly anxious but very supportive girlfriend."

the second half starts off rough. city’s bunny shaw scores twice in under nine minutes, and the atmosphere in the bayern section gets tense. you bite your lip, glancing at yasmeen for reassurance as the clock ticks on.

bayern doesn’t let up. lea schüller scores in the 55th minute just one minute after shaw scored city’s third goal, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. 

one more goal, and they’ll be even again. you clap, your hands sore but determined, and yell encouragement, hoping somehow the team can hear you all the way on the bench.

then, in the 68th minute, pernille gets her second goal, equalizing. the stadium erupts, and you jump out of your seat, pulling yasmeen into a hug. 

this match has you on the edge of your seat, your heart racing with every pass, every tackle.

a commotion catches your attention near the right side of the pitch, and you see sydney in a heated exchange with alex greenwood. sydney is keeping the ball away from greenwood as the ref tries to intervene. you can’t help but chuckle as yasmeen leans over. 

"what’s going on with them?"

"just sydney being sydney," you say, grinning. 

"kidding. i’m not sure, maybe sydney just wants to give her team a breather.” 

minutes later, in the 79th minute, lena stands at the sideline, preparing to sub in. your heart skips a beat as you slip off your light blue button-up longsleeve to reveal your oberdorf jersey underneath. yasmeen catches sight of it and snickers.

"i wonder if she’ll get a yellow card within the first five minutes."

"probably," you mutter with the pride in your voice. you’re just thrilled to see her out there, part of the game she’s worked so hard to return to.

she’s barely on the pitch when, in the 81st minute, she makes a classic side tackle on mary fowler, and you and yasmeen exchange a look. 

lena gets a warning, but she’s unfazed, her focus sharp.

the clock’s ticking, and tension fills the air. then, in the 88th minute, lena sets up an assist to sydney, who powers the ball into the net, bringing the score to 3-3. 

you jump up, screaming as loud as you can, caught up in the joy of the moment.

at this point, your mind starts to wander, reflecting on how far you’ve come. a year ago, you were just a student in virginia, living a quiet life. now, you’re in lisbon, watching the woman you love play in a champions league final, surrounded by friends and fans. it feels surreal.

yasmeen nudges you, drawing you back to the game. 

"imagine if lena scores the winning goal."

"i hope," you murmur, watching her with bated breath as she passes the ball to tuva, who then lightly passes it to ana. 

ana crosses up to klara, who leaps up for a perfect header. the ball sails into the net, and the stadium explodes in cheers. the scoreboard lights up,

4-3.

klara runs to the corner, celebrating, and you watch in awe as the team surrounds her. then she turns and sends a heart your way, her hands forming the shape in the air. you send one back, beaming as yasmeen chuckles beside you.

the final whistle blows, and it’s like the whole stadium erupts at once. the scoreboard is locked at 4-3, with bayern’s victory glowing bright, but it’s hard to believe until you see the girls flood the pitch, their faces breaking into elated, disbelieving smiles. 

yasmeen nudges you, and you turn to see her beaming.

“they really did it,” she says, a little in awe herself. 

“and they really love you, huh?” you laugh, heart swelling as you watch the team embrace, overcome by what they've achieved.

“guess i just got lucky,” you murmur, and you mean it.

after the immediate celebration dies down a bit, the trophy ceremony begins, the crowd cheering louder as each player receives their medal, eyes glistening with the weight of the win. confetti rains down, golden and shimmering in the stadium lights, and you feel a lump in your throat. they’ve worked so hard for this.

suddenly, you hear a voice calling your name. you turn to see sydney and tuva waving, beckoning you over. before you can process it, they’re running up, reaching over the barricade to pull you across it.

“you’re coming with us,” sydney insists, her grip firm, and tuva laughs, nodding in agreement. they drag you toward the heart of the celebration, and you glance back at yasmeen, who waves you off with a smile.

“go have fun!” she calls, and you smile back gratefully.

you barely have a second to catch your breath before you spot lena jogging toward you, her face flushed with happiness, eyes bright under the stadium lights. she wraps you in her arms, lifting you slightly, and you cling to her, laughing as she swings you back and forth.

“we did it,” she breathes, her voice full of amazement.

“you did it,” you correct, pulling back just enough to look at her. her eyes search yours, and you can see that same mixture of pride and disbelief.

“i still can’t believe it,” she whispers, her hands resting on your shoulders. 

“it feels… surreal.”

you smile, brushing a strand of confetti from her hair. 

“it’s real. and you deserve every bit of it, obi!”

lena smiles, a little teary-eyed, then leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, lingering there as if she wants to soak up the moment. 

“thank you for being here,” she says quietly, and you can hear the depth of her gratitude, her voice soft and genuine.

“i wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” you whisper back, feeling your own emotions rise.

nearby, klara is holding the trophy, posing for pictures, her grin as wide as you’ve ever seen. when she spots you, she waves you over, gesturing for you to come closer. you hesitate, feeling a rush of self-consciousness. 

you’re not a player, after all—you didn’t sweat and fight for this trophy like they did.

“come on!” klara calls, laughing at your reluctance. 

“get in here!”

you make your way over, feeling a bit out of place, and she hands you the trophy, the massive silver and blue prize weighing heavy in your hands. 

the moment feels surreal, and you look at klara, a little overwhelmed.

“are you sure?” you ask, voice soft.

she grins. 

“absolutely. you’re part of this team, too, you know.”

lena’s hand slips into the side of your waist as she steps closer, nodding with a warm smile. 

“she’s right, you know,” lena says, giving your hand a squeeze. 

“you’re like our honorary teammate.”

you smile, heart racing, and glance around at the team gathered around you. it’s a strange feeling—this sense of belonging among these women who have worked and sacrificed so much. 

they’re looking at you with genuine affection, the bond you’ve built with them over time stronger than you’d ever realized.

“alright,” you say, laughing, feeling a bit more relaxed as they crowd in around you. 

“but only because you all insisted.”

they cheer, pulling you into the picture, arms wrapped around one another, laughing and shouting in excitement as the photographer snaps photo after photo. you can feel the joy radiating from each of them, the weight of this accomplishment shared and celebrated together. 

when klara makes a heart with her hands, aiming it at you, your chest tightens with warmth.

yasmeen, watching from the stands, raises her thumbs up and laughs, mouthing “so popular!” and you give her a teasing eye-roll, smiling at her playfully.

finally, as the photos wrap up and the team disperses to greet more of their friends and family, lena pulls you aside to meet her parents, holding you close as you both take in the night. 

the lights of the stadium are soft now, the crowd gradually fading, and it’s just you two talking to her family, standing side by side in the quiet after the storm of victory.

“i’m so proud of you,” you say to lena after her family leaves the stadium, voice thick with emotion. 

“watching you play, seeing you out there after everything you’ve been through… it’s incredible.”

lena’s eyes soften, her fingers tracing the outline of your hand. 

“i couldn’t have done it without you,” she murmurs.

“you’ve been here every step, even when i was sidelined and frustrated. you kept me going.”

you smile, your heart swelling with pride and love. 

“that’s what teammates are for, right?”

she laughs softly, her gaze tender. 

“then it’s settled,” she says, her smile widening. 

“you are officially our honorary bayern teammate.”

the words echo in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace, and you know that this night, this moment, will stay with you forever.

masterlist

authors note: I hope you enjoyed this six parts series :) I started it 10/1 and finished this part last night before a halloween party I had to attend lol

[natalchartnurtures]

Poems To Channel Your Person's Message For You

pick- a- meme, sweets 1-2-3->

Been feeling kinda poetic lately

I used this book to divine your additional messages ><

Let's begin!

Pile 1-

"Oh my princess divine,

Whose body makes mine go wild

Your love can make me moves mountains

Your spirit keeps mine alive

Our connection,

so sweet and pure

A gift that keeps on giving

You give me endless strength, you help me endure

I see no one

I breathe no one

You make everybody else fade away,

Your walk, talk, eyes, baby you stun

You heal me, you please me

Your devotion is godly

I'm glad I ever got to know your essence

And share with you my rare oddities

You give me reason to be

Please know this-

In a harsh world

Girl, you're my sweet, sweet oasis

Oh to return to you, to thoughts of you

Is like sinking into magical candy floss

I thought the world to be cold

Yet there was you, the sweetest loving thing I ever came across"

Pile one! This person views you as the most divine feminine presence ever! Ahhhhh it's so beautiful tbh Jeez.. they almost view you as a goddess?

What did you do to them haha ><

They view you as their safe space and boy do they need it. I feel like they didn't have that a lot growing up so it really means a lot to them. You. Really mean a lot to them.

PS. You already might be in a committed relationship with them? If you are just take it as further confirmation, if you aren't then that's fine too! You can take it as a channeled future spouse energy. This is how your FS will view you 👀 Hehe 🤭

Now for your Biblomancy portion of the reading-A chanelled Rumi poem for you:

Oh and happy valentines day!

Pile 2-

"We tried my dear,

We cried my dear

We shared our moments,

But it's now time to part ways my dear.

All the love that existed,

Deep as the oceans

We were steeped in passion

But even so tragedy feel 'pon us

The flame burnt out,

we were left with our shadows.

To really face ourselves

The good, the bad and- the ugly blows

Feelings brewed heavy under the surface

And so did water under the bridge,

Hiding things from you

Turned into hiding from you.

There was once something,

But now there's two cowards left

Ran away like the wind

Towards the devil and oh! how the angels wept.

Your eyes, you soul

Mirror my worst traits back to me

Safe to say you could really know me

And yes I'll now admit it- I wasn't ready.

A thousand times I wish

I could hold your hand

Apologize to my flame, to you

For all the damage I did and could do

For the all love that couldn't ground

I love you."

Wow.. um this was intense. If you chose this pile then chances are that you didn't expect to hear from this person tbh. This energy feels like an ex that's deeply apologetic for the relationship ending. If not an ex then I strongly get a situation-ship vibe from this pile. In any case, there's a deep sense of regret for letting their inner demons have the best of them and sacrificing your connection in all of their BS.

PS. If this pile doesn't resonate, please don't force it. This is for a very select few of you who come across this PAC. Pick another pile if u wanna hear from another person <3

Now for your Biblomancy portion of the reading-A chanelled Rumi poem for you:

Oh and happy valentines day!

Pile 3-

[For some reason I started to channel your energy towards the person that spirit wants to bring to your attention right now]

"Oh how I long for the day

When we see eye to eye

And you give back just as much as I do

You suck me dry.

It's not fair what you do

Play around and then "sorry, babe" your way back in

I'm trying to choose better for me

You make my patience stretch thin

You're a lesson I need

A seasonal something breed

A temporary presence in my life

I move on and plant a new seed

I watch it grow,

I water myself

I thrive and let myself live for once

You're not Santa anymore and I'm not your one of your elves

Dried up dreams and shriveled up spirit

What did u bring to the table?

Rusty breadcrumbs

and throwaway secrets

You gaslit my mind

Owned my home

I showed you love

And you threw me a bone

Enough

With you and you're crooked ways

I was a fool then, not anymore

Revenge is a sweet thing, she'll set us both ablaze"

Ok. Pile 3. If you made it so far, congrats your a tough cookie haha this energy felt like and as u know I was channeling you more so than your person and it feels like it's a token of self empowerment from spirit tbh. This might be about somebody you are/were in a toxic friendship/relationship/situation. If so, take this reading as a sign that you're well on your way away from this terrible connection/situation. I'm with you, sweet soul

I love you and you're so very brave!

Now for your Biblomancy portion of the reading-

[This feels more like their energy]

Happy valentine's day, pile 3 ? :]

[queer-coffee]

simple words | pt. 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Read on Ao3

Sanji has been sad lately.

Luffy has been noticing.

Sanji doesn’t hang out with everyone as much. Sanji spends a lot more time in the kitchen, preparing all the crew’s meals, creating new amazing desserts. Creating food that really takes a lot of time and preparation and love.

Luffy finds himself wanting to comfort Sanji. To hug Sanji, to touch Sanji. But something tells him that Sanji wouldn’t like that right now.

Sanji hasn’t been liking that for a while now.

Sanji also has changed things. Luffy didn’t really notice at first, but ever since Robin pointed them out to him, Luffy can’t stop noticing.

Sanji’s hair is short now, and Sanji’s suit fits different in some places. Sanji doesn’t talk as much anymore, either, when Sanji used to never stop talking. And it’s even more when things like clothes or showers or certain preferences come up. Things Luffy doesn’t even think about.

They’re small things, but Luffy knows. They’re not trivial things. Not to Sanji.

Sanji must think about those things a lot. That must be why Sanji seems so sad.

Luffy wonders why that is.

He misses Sanji’s smile. Sanji’s laugh. Sanji’s temper.

He would do anything to make Sanji not sad.

Luffy looks down across the lawn from his spot in the bird’s nest, watching Sanji water Robin’s flowers.

A gust of wind forcefully blows his hair back, as Luffy thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

………………

Sanji thought he knew who he was going to tell first. It was the obvious choice. There was no one safer. It was the one person Sanji could truly say he wasn’t worried about at all.

Until he started acting all weird.

Sanji can feel Luffy’s stare on him wherever he goes. Not that Luffy is trying to even hide the fact that he’s been looking at Sanji. A lot. So much so that even Chopper is starting to pick up on it. Sanji can see his furry head whipping back and forth between them at lunch, meaning it’s only a matter of time before someone says something. And that cannot happen.

Sanji isn’t ready.

The sun sets lower in the sky, casting long and looming shadows from the West. They stretch out endlessly before him.

Sanji adjusts the wheel a little, keeping the Sunny on her steady course, deep in his thoughts of how to make sure this doesn’t blow up. And his thoughts of that dumb marimo.

Sanji breathes in deeply, trying to recall before the memory fades to time.

The scent of warm spice, the feeling of arms around him, safe and capable.

Sanji shudders.

Suddenly, Luffy appears in front of him, and Sanji lets out a yell. This makes Luffy laugh.

“There you are!” he shouts, “I said your name five times, Sanji.”

“Oh.” Sanji’s shoulders fall. The wheel creaks.

He reaches into his pocket for his smokes. It’s not until he opens the pack that he remembers he’s out. He wonders how he forgot to throw the box away.

“Here!” Luffy says, he pats himself down until he stops at the final pocket possible, and pulls out a fresh pack. It’s not one of the brands Sanji currently has on the ship. “You used your last one.”

Sanji takes the pack, a little off guard. If it was anyone else he’d tell them not to fucking stalk him. But it’s not just anyone. “How could you tell?”

“You always look sort of happy when you take one out," says Luffy, "but not last time.”

Luffy leans forward and rests his arms on the wheel, rocking back and forth with it as Sanji makes slight adjustments.

Luffy’s eyes are limitlessly bright. It’s almost too much to look at.

So Sanji doesn’t. He looks down to the pack instead. He pulls one out, and finds his lighter.

Luffy rests his head now, too.

And Sanji realizes.

They’re alone. It could be the perfect time.

Sanji’s heart beats faster.

He sparks the lighter, and swallows, surprised to find a lump in his throat.

Sanji tries to swallow again, but it’s persistent.

He wonders where in the world that came from.

Sanji sparks his lighter again, guarding his cigarette with his hand. He has no good reason to be feeling like this right now. It’s almost embarrassing.

It could be the perfect time.

But then Sanji thinks of Luffy’s gaze, relentlessly lingering on the back of his neck.

When he thinks of that, the timing doesn’t feel so perfect anymore.

Sanji sparks his lighter. Really, it’s putting him on edge. Why has Luffy been looking at him so much? Damn near through him.

It’s making him nervous. It's making him...

He sparks his lighter once more, his shoulders relaxing when it finally catches. Sanji inhales generously. The cigarette flares in front of him, warm on his face.

“Hey, Sanji,” Luffy says, but Sanji barely hears it.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to tell Luffy. Holding onto this any longer isn’t something he wants to do. He is dying to let it out. In fact, it’s killing him not to. Finally being free is just on the other side of a few words.

It should be so simple.

“Sanji,” Luffy’s voice is low, just in his ear now. Now, Sanji hears him. “You haven’t been looking happy lately. Ever. Even when you don’t run out of those things.”

A shiver shoots down Sanji’s spine.

Is that why Luffy’s been looking?

Sanji exhales. The smoke is smooth on his throat, so painfully tight now. His breath shakes.

“Sanji.”

Sanji blinks again, annoyed at his eyes for being wet.

“Damn it,” Sanji says, and he can hear it in his voice right before it happens. But it's too late to stop it.

He lets out a sob. Then another. He muffles it with his sleeve, but he can’t stop.

And still he feels Luffy’s eyes on him.

“Sanji, can you tell me what’s . . .” Luffy pauses, then urgently leans closer. “Tell me how I can help you.”

Sanji covers his face, so frustrated that he can’t stop. That he can’t look Luffy in the eyes. That he can’t even bring himself to tell him, when it should be so easy.

Why can’t it just be easy?

“Sanji.”

“Luffy, I—” Sanji cries. The words are right there, but, “I can’t,” Sanji breaks down. “I can’t,” He shakes his head. His whole body shakes. “I can’t, Luffy.”

And he hates the tone in his voice, the way it’s so out of control. He hates how he’s shaking. He hates that he can’t even tell Luffy, and how it feels like even that’s out of his control too.

“That’s okay,” Luffy says, like it really is. Sanji wonders how Luffy does that.

“I can’t,” Sanji repeats. "I can't."

“I know," says Luffy, “I know something is on your mind.” Sanji nods, overwhelmed, unable to do anything else. “I know something is wrong. But," Luffy's voice is so gentle, "I’m here. When you can tell me.”

Sanji cries, surprised to feel a warmth inside now, too. It’s a feeling he places immediately.

"I'm here, Sanji."

Sanji nods. Thankful.

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 26

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | AO3

-----

"You boys all right?" Hopper calls, after the sound of Chief Powell reading Jason his rights has started to fade.

"Can't complain about the rescue," Eddie calls back.

"Doing a lot better than we'd be without you," Steve agrees.

"All right, just hang tight until I get confirmation that Carver's all settled in the cruiser and on his way to the station," Hopper says.

And Eddie sees the merit in that, really, he does, but Steve had dodged directly answering the question of if he was all right the same as Eddie had, and Eddie needs to see him.

He creeps off in the direction that he'd heard Steve's voice come from, sticking to the growing shadows, until he damn near collides with Steve - who must have had the same idea.

"Eddie," Steve breathes out, grabbing the front of Eddie's shirt and hauling him in for a kiss.

Eddie wraps his arms around him, holding him as close as he can as he kisses him back, every last bit of the terror he'd felt in the last however long coming out in sheer desperation.

"Eddie," Steve murmurs against his lips, his voice a little frantic like he needs to say it but doesn't want to stop kissing him. "Eddie, baby, are you hurt?"

"No," Eddie says, muffled by the fact that he can't stop kissing him, either. "No, I'm okay. Are you?"

Steve doesn't answer right away, kissing him again and again, and Eddie cups the line of his jaw, cradles it in his hand for a moment before he pushes his fingers into Steve's hair, checking for any tender spots.

"Hold up for a minute, let me look," Eddie insists, but he doesn't pull away when Steve stubbornly keeps kissing him.

"Stevie," he whispers, the sound stolen up by Steve's ragged inhale.

"I'm kind of trying not to freak out," Steve admits.

Eddie registers the press of something cold and hard against his chest where Steve's still holding his shirt, the clink of metal when he shifts, and he remembers the handcuffs.

"Fuck," Eddie curses. "What can I do?"

"You're okay, right? He didn't hurt you?"

For a moment, Eddie thinks Steve might be deflecting, but the look on Steve's face tells him no, he's answering Eddie's question just fine - that's what Eddie can do to reassure him.

"He didn't hurt me," Eddie says. "He pushed me a couple of times, and one made me lose my balance, but no damage."

"Let me see-" Steve starts, but Eddie shakes his head.

"Uh-uh. You let me see first, then you can look," he insists.

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of Steve's lips. "I take care of you, you take care of me?"

"Bingo. So no trying to get fresh with me again until I've had a good look, all right handsome?" Eddie teases.

This time, Steve lets him cup his jaw again, peering closely at his face. It's getting dark enough that Eddie can't tell exactly, but nothing looks broken. He's pretty sure he's going to have some bruising, though.

"Okay," Eddie says once he's satisfied - or as satisfied as he's going to get until they're home. "Your turn."

Steve lifts Eddie's shirt up without any preamble, peering at his stomach and chest and running his fingers over his skin. His touch brushes over some of Eddie's soulmate ink, and - oh, fuck, if last time was Steve's hands in his hair and hot water washing away a week's worth of grime, this is molten heat running down his spine, the taste of Steve's tongue in his mouth, the feel of his breath on the back of his neck. Eddie shudders, lips parted in a soft gasp.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Soulmate words," Eddie says.

"Oh," Steve says absently. Then, "Oh."

"Yeah. Fuck, we're doing that again once we're home," Eddie says fervently.

Steve's looking at him again, all warm and happy like he's just had the best experience of his life.

"What?" Eddie asks.

"You said home," Steve replies softly, gently tugging Eddie's shirt down and leaning in to kiss him again.

Oh.

"It is," Eddie says. "With you and Robin, it is."

Steve closes his eyes, forehead pressing against Eddie's. They stay like that, tucked in close to each other, until Hopper's voice calls out and tells them it's safe to come out.

Hopper's got a flashlight on him, and he looks them both over when they emerge, the corners of his mouth dropping down lower and lower when he looks at Steve's face and wrists.

"Hey Chief?" Hopper says into the police issue radio he's got hooked on his belt, as they walk back towards Forest Hills.

"Yeah Hop?" Chief Powell asks.

"Get the handcuff master key out and ready for when we get to the station," Hopper tells him. "And you might want to add unlawful restraint to that list of charges."

Eddie blanches. "Who says we want to go to the station?" he grumbles.

"We can't do it tomorrow?" Steve asks.

"You'll be glad you got it over with," Hopper points out.

Which is probably true, but Eddie isn't going to give him the satisfaction of saying it.

"Got it," Chief Powell's voice comes back over the radio. "Which one of them is it?"

Hopper shoots him and Steve a little look. "Better get ready to hear from Lillian Harrington."

"Ah, shit," Chief Powell mutters. "All right, see you soon."

There's no police cars when they get back to the trailer - just Steve's BMW, still parked out front next to the abandoned boxes of Eddie's things.

"Can you help get those in the trunk?" Steve asks.

Eddie wants to point out that they don't feel all that important right now, but Hopper's already crouching down to pick two of them up, and Steve's awkwardly fishing his keys out of his jeans pocket. And it's - yeah, okay, if they went through all of this on a mission to get Eddie some of his life back, he doesn't want to come back empty handed, either. He picks up the last box, tucking it inside the trunk.

"Found this, too," Hopper comments, setting Steve's bat next to them.

Just the sight of it makes some of the tension leak out from Steve's shoulders.

"Get in," Hopper says. "I'll drive you to the station."

"It's my car!" Steve protests. "I've driven with way worse!"

"That's exactly why you're not driving now," Hopper says.

"That doesn't make any sense," Steve mutters.

"Stevie, if he isn't driving, I am," Eddie tells him. "You want me driving your car in my current state?"

"I know you've done it before, kid," Hopper adds, his voice gentler this time. "You shouldn't have had to then, and you don't have to now."

Steve looks away for a moment. Then he nods, clambering into the backseat of the car. Eddie joins him, sitting as close to him as he dares. Once they're in route - Eddie risks slipping his hand over, palm up. An offering, just in case.

Steve grabs it immediately, lacing their fingers together and holding on tight.

"How come the cops are so scared of your mom?" he asks Steve in a low voice.

There's a little laugh. "My mom's a lawyer. She's mostly a corporate lawyer now, but she was a criminal defense attorney for a while, and she'll still take some cases. She's going to be all over this."

Hopper gives a soft snort of amusement. "She's going to threaten to sue everyone from Powell to the mayor if Carver doesn't get charged the way she wants him to."

"She's a good lawyer," Steve agrees, grinning a little.

Hopper's eyes flick down in the rear view mirror, and Eddie knows he can see him and Steve holding hands. For a moment, his heart jumps into his throat - but Hopper doesn't say anything, just slips his gaze back to the road.

Flo's waiting for them with a set of keys and three steaming mugs of hot chocolate when they get to the station.

Eddie takes the keys before Hopper can, hurriedly unlocking the cuffs from Steve's wrists. Steve sags a little when they're gone, leaning into him for a moment before straightening up to accept his mug of cocoa.

"You can wait in the break room," Flo tells them. "The phone's free if you want to call your mom."

She ushers them in and closes the door.

Steve and Eddie take the threadbare couch, squished together, while Hopper plops down on a folding chair.

The phone's on a table by the couch, and Steve puts it on speaker after he dials.

"Wolfram, Hart, & Harrington, this is Lacey Shepherd speaking."

"Hi Lacey," Steve greets. "Can you connect me to Mrs. Harrington? This is Steven, one of her clients. I'm calling from a police station."

"One moment, please," Lacey says, before some truly terrible music drifts through the phone.

"One of her clients?" Eddie repeats.

Steve gives a little shrug. "She's working. She'll answer for a client."

But not for her son?

Eddie doesn't know why he's surprised, considering everything, but getting hit in the face with it like that is still a bit of a shock.

Fuck, he's going to hug Steve so hard after all of this.

Granted, he was going to do that anyway, because Eddie really wants a hug after this, but still.

The hold music stops.

"Steven?" Mrs. Harrington asks.

"Hi, Mom," Steve says.

"Steven." There's comprehension in her voice now. "What happened?"

"Jason Carver," Steve says. "He ambushed me with a gun when I was walking back to my car, threatened to kill me and my soulmate."

"Just threatened?" There's a sharp alertness in her voice now, and Eddie can hear the scratching of writing.

"He handcuffed me to a railing, took my soulmate out into the woods and shoved them around. Punched me in the face a few times."

"Punched you in the face," she repeats.

"In his defense, I was choking him with the handcuffs he made me put on," Steve adds.

"Steven Everett Harrington," she hisses. "I know you didn't just say that in a room full of cops."

"It's just Hopper," Steve says.

"No cops here now, Lillian," Hopper says.

She sniffs. "Once a cop, always a cop, Jim. You don't talk to cops."

If he wasn't for everything else he knew, Eddie might actually like her.

"What did the Carver boy say to you?" she asks.

"Uh - that he was trying to get justice and remove the curse from Hawkins. He said he believed we could do it. He was upset about Chrissy, and wanted to make us suffer. Something about planning to send people to Hell."

All technically true, and Eddie sure as shit isn't going to volunteer anything that puts Jason Carver in a better light.

"I knew that boy was unstable," she mutters. "The whole police force was wrapped up in looking for some insignificant gutter trash, and they're letting the real threats go around right under their noses."

Right, shit, so much for liking her.

Eddie slouches down, until he sees the anger in Steve's eyes. As nice as it would be to let him say whatever he's going to - Eddie puts a hand on his arm, shaking his head.

"You tell Chief Powell to call me after you're done giving your statement," she says. "If I don't hear from him in less than an hour, he won't like the outcome."

"Yes, Mom," Steve says.

The dial tone rings out in response.

"I don't want her to talk like that about you," Steve says immediately.

"I appreciate it," Eddie says, reaching out to gently brush his fingers against the bruise appearing on Steve's cheek. "But you've taken enough hits for me tonight. You can save swinging at your mom for later."

It wasn't until he said it that he recognizes the feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knows Steve doesn't agree, knows he's made it very clear otherwise, but - part of him can't help but feel like this is his fault, like Steve wouldn't have had to go through tonight if Eddie wasn't his soulmate.

He doesn't say anything, but Steve narrows his eyes anyway.

"You're my soulmate," Steve says. "I don't regret it."

Hopper clears his throat, and Eddie jumps, his hand dropping away.

Fuck, he can't believe he almost forgot he was there.

"Hop," Steve says.

Hopper shakes his head. "He's your soulmate, right? Whatever that means, you got nothing to fear from me."

There's a beat of silence, then, "At least it's better than Mike Wheeler, anyway."

Eddie barks out a startled laugh, clamping one hand over his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Hopper grumbles. "I'm sending the little shit to you when he gets on my nerves."

It's not long before Chief Powell comes to take their statements. They give him the same spiel that they gave Steve's mom, with a little more detail about how Jason was trying to make Eddie confess.

Chief Powell sighs. "Boy's not saying much in there. I think he finally gets how much trouble he's in. I better go give Judge Ellison a call, then get Lillian on the phone."

He scrubs a hand over his face, then looks at Hopper. "You sure you don't want your job back?"

"Nah," Hopper replies with a grin. "It's all yours."

Steve doesn't put up a protest when Hopper gets into the driver's seat of the Bimmer this time. He just reaches one hand out, and Eddie takes it, giving it a soft squeeze.

"The whole motley crew's probably at your place by now," Hopper warns them as he drives. "Your girl called a code red. The only reason we didn't have the rest of those numbskulls showing up at Forest Hills in a panic is because she'd already called 911, and the police were on their way as soon as they heard Jason Carver and gun. Joyce took the kids and Argyle over to wait with Robin, so I'm sure the rest of them are there too."

Sure enough, the Wheelers' station wagon, Argyle's van, the Byers' car, and his uncle's truck are all parked outside when they get there.

Part of him thinks so much for getting to kiss Steve senseless, but the bigger part is touched that they're all here like this. He sneaks a glance over at Steve, sees a slightly stunned smile, and gives his hand another squeeze.

Hopper walks in first, mostly so he can fend off the immediate rush at the door.

Robin's the only one that gets past him, flinging herself at both of them and hugging them.

"I'm okay, Robs, we're okay," Steve whispers into her hair.

She hugs them tighter.

Then she steps back. His uncle is in her place immediately, folding Eddie up in his arms - and then hauling Steve in to hug him, too.

"I'm okay, we're okay," Eddie says.

Finally, his uncle lets go, too, letting the crowd get a better look at them.

"What happened?" Dustin demands. "Robin said Jason locked Steve up and dragged Eddie off somewhere!"

"Handcuffed," Steve says. "But I got free."

"Handcuffed?" Erica repeats flatly, shoving her way to the front of the group.

She looks him and Steve up and down. Eddie can see the way the fire in her eyes burns hotter and hotter as she lingers over the welts around Steve's wrists, the bruises on his face, the dirt and blood on Eddie's own hands. He hadn't noticed that before now, but he must have ripped at the edges of a couple of his fingernails, digging his hands into the ground like that.

Then Erica turns on her heel. "I'm going to call Tina."

"Tina?" Eddie asks, confused.

"She's the biggest gossip at Hawkins Middle," Erica replies. "Jason Carver is a ruined man."

"He's already in jail!" Steve calls.

"Yeah, and when I'm done with him, everyone will know what a psychopath he is!" Erica shouts back as she slams the door to the study down the hall.

Nancy makes this little giggling snort sound - the same one he heard her make when he was in the hospital, what feels like forever ago.

Apparently it was a good sound, because she's smiling.

"She's going to be a terror when she gets to high school," Robin says fondly.

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "I'm so proud of her."

"Ugh," Lucas groans.

"Luckily, she's got better friends than I did, to keep her grounded," Steve adds, looking out over all of them.

Joyce worms her way to the front, looking both of them up and down just like Erica.

And just like Erica, there's a ferocity to her as she takes them in, though hers burns cooler.

"Oh, honey," she murmurs. "Come on, let me look at you in the kitchen."

There's a moment of silence, then she looks at them.

"Both of you, now," she orders.

Well, not that much cooler.

"Hopper, will you order pizza for everyone? I know it's late, but I'm sure we could use it," she calls back as she ushers them into the kitchen.

She points them both to the kitchen table, and what the hell else is Eddie going to do but obediently sit? She digs into the freezer, gets out an ice pack and wraps it in a towel, then gently places it over Steve's eye and cheek.

"Hold it there for a little while," she tells him.

Then she wets another towel and comes over to Eddie, taking his hands in hers and gently cleaning them up. She looks at him with such softness and warmth when her eyes catch his that, horrifyingly, he feels his chin quiver a little, and he has to look away.

"I haven't gotten to tell you," she says quietly. "It was a very brave thing you did, helping fight against One."

"It doesn't feel like it," he finds himself admitting.

She hums softly. "Because you were scared?"

"Terrified," he agrees. "But because I didn't do enough."

She makes a tsk noise, wiping away the last of the grime and wrapping a bandaid around the tip of his finger, where a drop of blood had sprung up. "You're here. That's more than enough."

Jesus Christ, he's not going to cry, he's not.

She takes pity on him, patting his hand one more time and then going to check on Steve.

"That goes for you, too," she tells him as she lifts up the ice pack to take a peek, then puts it back down. "You think I haven't noticed that it's always you?"

"They're kids," Steve protests softly.

"So are you," she tells him, in the kind of tone that manages to be both gentle and leave no room for argument. "And you are worth more than how much damage you can take for them."

"Okay," Steve says, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

She tsks at him, then gently cleans the dirt off of his face and hands.

"There's juice and stuff in the fridge for everyone," he says.

"You're a sweetheart," she tells him.

Eddie snorts before he can stop himself.

She raises an eyebrow at him. "You have an opinion on that, Edward Munson?"

Shit.

"No ma'am," he says quickly, even though he knows it's a lie.

Steve drops the ice pack away from his face, grinning. He looks - a little punch drunk, a little like how he'd light up so high every time the house is filled with people. "That was a lie," he stage whispers to Joyce. "He definitely has an opinion."

She tries to hide her smile. "Oh? Enlighten us."

Eddie groans. "Look, I love Steve, okay, he's the kindest, bravest, best guy I know, but he's way too much of a bitch to be a sweetheart."

Steve cackles, head tilting back as he laughs.

Joyce has one hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and glistening with what looks like unshed tears. Eddie frowns, tries to think back to what he said - fuck, he'd said love, okay, but everyone knows Steve's his soulmate now, and he hadn't said what kind, so there's no way she'd assume -

She reaches out, takes one of their hands in each of hers. "Will you boys come to dinner on Sunday?"

Steve's brows furrow in confusion. "Well, yeah, of course."

"Good. Will and El missed you," she tells Steve, then nods at Eddie. "And I think Will's unsure about it, but I know he'd like to be in that club of yours. I think having you around, together, will be nice."

Oh.

Oh.

"Of course, Mrs. B," Eddie says, exchanging a look with Steve.

She squeezes both of their hands, smiling softly at them a moment longer. "Are you ready to go back out and face the questions?"

They are, and they do.

Eddie takes over, dropping into DM mode to spin the story of what happened into something a little more colorful, a little less scary - and manages to cut his poetic waxing about Steve ripping the railing off and choking Jason while handcuffed short when Robin pointedly nudges him.

He's just about done when Erica emerges, looking very satisfied with herself.

"The whole school knows all the details of what a creep Jason is now," she says. "Both schools, by morning."

Steve picks her up, twirling her around.

She shrieks.

"Steven Everett Harrington, you put me down!" she shouts at him, kicking her feet.

Eddie notices she doesn't actually do anything to try to get him to let her go, and her shrieking is definitely the more gleeful variety, but he doesn't point it out for fear of the verbal dressing down he'd get.

She flips her hair when he finally sets her down, loudly commenting, "Ugh!" as she storms off to the couch.

"Me next," El requests, holding her arms out to him.

Steve immediately picks her up, smiling wide and playful as he spins her around to the sounds of her delighted laughter.

When he sets her down, he turns to Max - who was apparently waiting for that, and promptly throws a couch pillow at him.

"Don't you dare! What, just because I'm a girl! How sexist is that, why don't you try to twirl one of the guys?" she demands.

Steve tilts his head like he's considering that. "Okay," he agrees.

Eddie expects him to chase down Dustin or Lucas - but instead, the next thing he knows there's a pair of arms around his waist and Steve is hauling him up to twirl him around.

He cackles, draping his arms over Steve's neck and tipping his head back. "Come on, Harrington, put those muscles to use and twirl me faster," he teases.

Steve spins him around again, then sets him down, beaming at him.

Joyce whacks him on the shoulder.

"Quit that," she scolds. "You should both be resting. Go, on the couch, the both of you."

"How does Erica even know your middle name?" Eddie asks Steve once they're settled on the couch, after Uncle Wayne, Hopper, and Joyce have gone back into the kitchen.

"I know everything," Erica replies smugly.

Dustin scoffs. "Sir Everett is Steve's paladin. She only knows because he told us when we played."

In his indignation, he says it loud enough for the whole room to hear, and Lucas, Mike, and Will's heads immediately swivel over to look at them.

There's a moment of silence, as Dustin seems to realize what he just said. His eyes widen, gaze cutting over to Steve.

"You told!" Erica shouts delightedly. "Shotgun privileges revoked for a year!"

"You played with my sister?" Lucas asks, sounding betrayed.

"What the hell!" Mike agrees. "He was our friend first!"

Steve raises one eyebrow at him.

"You were!" Mike insists. "We even made you a part of the Party and gave you a walkie everything!"

"You sure that wasn't just to con your way into free movies last summer?" Steve teases, hands on his hips.

"Steve," Lucas protests.

"I think we're forgetting that Dustin knew about this," Will points out.

"Will, come on!" Dustin whines.

"All right, how about this," Steve says. "Will, when are you running one again?"

Will looks thrown. "Me?"

"Yeah, you," Steve says.

"Oh, I, uh. I don't know." Will's gaze cuts over to Eddie, then skitters away so quickly he's not completely sure it happened.

Yeah, looks like Joyce was right about him being uncertain. Eddie remembers Steve saying that Will was leaving his party behind and didn't want anything to play for a present, but his friends clearly hadn't done the same. Eddie can see how that'd cause some conflicting feelings.

"I've heard a lot about you," Eddie chimes in.

He feels Steve tense briefly next to him, then relax when it's clear Eddie isn't lying.

"What?" Will asks, looking back at him.

"Oh, yeah. Not to my face, of course, before spring break these little shits were terrified of me - and I already mourn the loss - but I heard them talking." He clears his throat, making his voice all high and squeaky. "'Can you believe that? Will never would have done that! Will would have given him a whole backstory! Will's introduction was ten times more interesting!'"

All right, maybe he's playing it up a bit - but he had overheard them talking about the differences in his and Will's styles a few times, and there were times that they liked Will's better.

"I wasn't the only one who DMed, though, Mike used to do it, too," Will says, face a little pink.

"Yeah, but you're way better," Mike says earnestly. "Remember how long my last couple of campaigns took me to plan and how quick we finished them?"

"Tell you what," Steve says. "You both work up one together, and Eddie, Robin, and I will play."

Jesus Christ, it's like Christmas came early.

Eddie cackles. "Just wait, boys, you haven't seen me as a player yet."

"Why am I roped into this now?" Robin protests, but it's the tone of voice she uses when she's going to do it, she just wants to bitch.

"We'll all play," Jonathan cuts in, glancing over at Nancy and Argyle. "Right, guys?"

"Oh, for sure. Bring it on, little dudes," Argyle agrees.

"Fine," Nancy says, rolling her eyes, but she's smiling. "I'm not dressing up, though."

"Dress up?" Eddie repeats, pouncing on it immediately.

"No!" Nancy retorts immediately.

Eddie wriggles, twisting so he can peer at her from over Robin's shoulder, eyes wide and beseeching. "Come on, Wheeler," he whines.

She glares at him, managing to hold it for a few seconds before she caves. "Fine! Remember this when it comes time for your study sessions."

Shit, that's right.

…eh, worth it.

"Dress up?" El repeats.

"Yeah, but boring dress up, not fun dress up like at the mall," Max says.

Eddie clutches his heart. "Mayfield. Don't you want to be a maiden fair? A tiefling princess?"

Max narrows her eyes at him.

El squeezes Max's hand.

"If I get a mace," Max says. "And I get to hit Munson with it at some point. I'll consider it."

"Deal!" Eddie immediately agrees.

He's pretty sure she means her character, and he can sacrifice a few hit points.

…she definitely means her character, right?

Eh, still worth it.

"Wait, there's costumes now?" Steve asks.

Eddie drops himself back over Steve. "Don't worry, I've got you covered."

Steve pulls a face. "Great," he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mike and Will, who'd bowed their heads together to have a quick, fervent discussion, separate to look back up at the group.

"Okay," Will says. "We'll let you know when we've got it worked out."

The pizza arrives not long after, and even though he, Steve, and Robin already put away one earlier - that feels like forever ago, and he still devours a few more slices.

Eddie kind of expects some of them to go home at some point that night, but they never do.

Uncle Wayne takes the guest room that Steve told him he could have, and Joyce and Hopper end up in the other one. The rest of them all crash out in the living room, on couches and chairs and in sleeping bags.

No one bats an eye when he, Steve, and Robin tangle themselves up in each other.

Eddie falls asleep surrounded by his family, and thinks - there's no better feeling in the whole damn world.

Just one more part left, and then this will finally be wrapped up!

-----

Part 27

Tag list (always happy to add more for the last bit!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

[gavitaffy]

Goals of the Heart, part 3

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

A/N: We're halfway! Series number 3! I really hope that you guys are enjoying this, lmk if there's anything I can o to make this better!

Paring: Pablo Gavi & f!reader

Summary: Y/N, an artist sketching in Barcelona, has her painting ruined when a stray football crashes into her easel. The culprit, a young man named Pablo Gavi, apologizes profusely and buys her new art supplies to make up for it. She later learns he's a famous footballer for Barcelona but brushes it off, treating him as just "the guy who ruined her painting." Gavi, intrigued by her indifference, offers to take her for coffee, hinting at the start of a surprising connection between them.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,1k

Chapter 3: The Spotlight and Shadows

Y/N’s life had always been quiet. Her days were filled with sketching in cafés, attending art classes, and wandering the streets of Barcelona, searching for inspiration. But ever since that fateful encounter with Pablo Gavi, everything had changed.

At first, it had been small things: an uptick in followers on her social media accounts, strangers DM'ing her with harmless questions like “Are you the girl Gavi pointed to during the game?” or “How do you know him?” She brushed it off, not realizing how quickly the attention would escalate.

Then came the viral photos.

A week after Pablo’s match, a paparazzo snapped pictures of them having coffee together at a small café. The photos spread like wildfire. Suddenly, her name was all over fan forums and sports blogs. The headlines ranged from playful to invasive:

“Gavi’s Mystery Girl: Who is She?” “Pablo Gavi Sparks Dating Rumors with Unknown Artist” “Fans React to Gavi’s New Flame—Is She Good Enough for Him?”

At first, Y/N found it almost amusing. She joked with Pablo about being his “scandal of the month,” and he laughed it off, saying, “They’ll move on soon. Don’t worry.” But the attention didn’t fade. If anything, it intensified.

Y/N’s phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications. Some messages were sweet and curious, while others were venomous.

“You’re so lucky! Gavi deserves someone special like you!” “Stay away from him, gold digger.” “She’s not even pretty. Gavi could do better.”

She stopped checking her messages after a while, the cruel comments cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. Her once-peaceful walks through the city became tense and paranoid as she noticed people staring or whispering.

The final straw came when someone leaked her personal Instagram account. Fans flooded her posts with comments, dissecting every photo, every caption, every part of her life.

“You okay?” Pablo asked one evening as they sat in his car outside her apartment.

She bit her lip, staring at her hands. “Not really. It’s...a lot.”

He reached over, taking her hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just—I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I didn’t sign up to have my entire life picked apart by strangers.”

Pablo looked at her, guilt etched into his face. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I’ll talk to my PR team. Maybe they can do something—put out a statement or—”

“No,” Y/N interrupted, shaking her head. “That’ll just make it worse. People will think it’s some kind of confirmation.”

The car fell silent, the weight of her words hanging between them.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N tried to focus on her art, but the joy she once felt while sketching seemed distant. Her professors noticed her distracted demeanor, and her friends urged her to talk about what was going on, but she couldn’t bring herself to open up.

One night, she finally broke down.

Pablo had invited her to a small gathering with some of his teammates, hoping to take her mind off everything. She had hesitated but agreed, thinking it might help. The evening started off well enough—his teammates were friendly, their partners warm and welcoming. But as the night wore on, the casual comments started to sting.

“You’re braver than I’d be,” one of the girlfriends said, laughing lightly. “Dating someone so famous? I’d go crazy with all those eyes on me.”

Another chimed in, “And the fans? They’re relentless. Gavi’s lucky you’re sticking around.”

Y/N forced a smile, but their words clung to her like a heavy weight.

When they left the party, Pablo noticed her quietness immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked as they drove home.

Y/N stared out the window, her voice trembling. “I don’t think I can do this, Pablo.”

“Do what?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

“This. Us.” She turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m not built for this life. I don’t want to be someone who’s constantly watched and judged just for being with you.”

Pablo pulled the car over, his face stricken. “Y/N, I get it. I do. But don’t let them scare you away from something good. From us.”

“It’s not just them,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “It’s me. I can’t focus on my art anymore. I’m always looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone’s watching. This...pressure, it’s suffocating.”

He reached for her hands, holding them tightly. “I don’t care what anyone says, Y/N. You’re the most important person in my life right now. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this easier for you. Just...don’t give up on me. Please.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked at him. She wanted to believe him, to trust that they could make this work. But the weight of everything felt overwhelming.

“I need time, Pablo,” she said softly. “I need to figure out who I am in all of this.”

The next few days were quiet. Pablo gave her the space she asked for, though it clearly pained him. Y/N threw herself into her art, hoping to rediscover the passion that once defined her.

One afternoon, as she sketched in a hidden corner of a park, she received a text from Pablo.

Pablo: I miss you. I’ll wait as long as you need. Just know I’m here.

Y/N’s heart ached as she read his words. She missed him, too—the way he made her laugh, the way he believed in her even when she doubted herself. But she still wasn’t sure if she could handle being part of his world.

As the sun set over Barcelona, she stared at her sketch, the lines forming an image of two figures standing together. It was unfinished, much like her relationship with Pablo.

For now, all she could do was hope that time would bring clarity. Whether they’d find their way back to each other was a question she couldn’t yet answer.

[jessiemeows]

Lost & Found

Chapter 2: Companionship and Sunsets

A/N: Hello! I wanted to say the first 2-3 chapters are a little slow and are basically retellings of what happens amongst the Amaya/Astarion universe that I created. The next chapter though is when their story begins to officially start :) Pls go easy on me, I don't have any proofreaders and I tried reading this a thousand times to make sure the grammar and spelling are good lmfao. ALSO! Love and smut won't be introduced till later chapters, right now its going to be painfully obvious that Amaya and Astarion are crushing on one another. So in other words it's a slow burn. OH, one more thing, I haven't posted much but I am pretty much done with the next chapter, I have to add in a few things that I forgot I wanted added in so maybe(hopefully) I'll post it by the end of the week? I plan on reading it and adding in more stuff tomorrow night, and then I have to get over my fears of posting it for a few days by rereading it 500 times lol.

Pairing: F!Durge, OC (Amaya), Tiefling, Selunite Cleric X Spawn Astarion

Rating: 18+!!! mentions of violence, blood, corpses, death, basically durge things if you know how that character is

WC: About 2300

Previous chapters: Prologue | Ch 1

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Story:

The wreckage of the nautiloid stretched behind them as Astarion trailed a few steps behind Amaya. He watched as his new companion led him in what seemed to be an increasingly familiar pattern.

"Any idea where you're going, darling?" He said with his voice filled with amusement. "Because it seems to me we're walking in circles."

Amaya's shoulders tensed. "Yes, I know where I'm going." The words came out clipped, and Astarion suppressed a smile. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh earlier- the knife to her throat, shoving her into the dirt but, what was done was done. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn't particularly care.

"I'm looking for someone," she continued, her voice softening. "She can't be too far from the beach. Unless she's dead, but I..." Her words trailed off into the now cooling evening air.

"And who might this mystery person be?"

Amaya twirled to face him, walking backward with surprising grace. "A half-elf who helped me on the ship. I don't remember her name, but I think she's a cleric, like me."

"Ah, clerics." Astarion clicked his tongue. "I've never much cared for the gods. Rather exhausting business, all that worship and devotion."

Her expression turned thoughtful. "True but, I don't know why I worship Selûne, to be honest. When I woke up on the nautiloid, I had only faint memories of her, but I could feel her presence, feel my magic flowing from her." She turned to walk beside him, their steps falling into sync. "Her presence felt light and hopeful, which was nice compared to..." Her voice faded, and Astarion caught the shadow that passed across her face. He chose not to press.

Instead, he studied her with new interest. "You don't remember anything?"

"Just my name- Amaya Othzál- and fragments that keep surfacing. The details are..." She shrugged, offering a faint smile. "Hazy."

"Must be the tadpole's doing."

"Or I hit my head really hard." Her giggle was soft and musical, and Astarion found himself oddly charmed by the sound.

"Yes, that would certainly explain a few things about you," he scoffed playfully, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a low chuckle.

Amaya then halted suddenly, causing Astarion to collide with her, nearly losing his footing to almost knock her over. "Do you think by any chance you could not stop so abruptly," he hissed.

"There's a wounded mindflayer," she whispered, pointing ahead.

"Better it than us," he remarked coldly. "But do be careful near that thing."

Amaya then approached slowly, her divine magic radiating a blinding light at her fingertips. Astarion watched as she hesitated to kill the abomination, kneeling before the creature within seconds.

"What in the hells- what are you doing? Get away from that thing!" Astarion then yanked her backward by the arm, breaking the creature's hold.

Reality crashed back, and almost immediately Amaya brought her boot down on the monster with crushing force. "Death is too good for it," she then turned to Astarion with apologetic eyes. "Thank you."

"Just don't do that again," he muttered. Amaya nodded.

The two had walked on for several more minutes completing a full circle back onto the beach when suddenly, Amaya bolted forward. "Wait! I think that's her!" She sprinted toward a prone figure in the sand. "How did I not see her? She was so close." Dropping to her knees, she checked for signs of life. "She's breathing- just unconscious."

The half-elf stirred at Amaya's gentle touch. "Y-you're alive," she mumbled, blinking in confusion. "I'm alive. How is this possible?"

As the women spoke, Astarion hung back, only half-listening until he heard his name mentioned. Amaya was recounting their earlier encounter while the half-elf—Shadowheart, she called herself- cast a healing spell. Shadowy magic knitted Amaya's wound closed, though the skin remained angry and red.

"You kept him around after he tried to kill you?" Shadowheart's green eyes bored into Astarion.

"He's infected, just like us." Amaya glanced at him with those big and round yet unusual eyes of hers- deep red and glowing, but it was as if the color itself was wrong somehow. The bridge of her nose had started to burn in the sun, making her constellation of freckles stand out even more. "I would've done the same, I think."

"Well, it's all in the past now, isn't it?" Astarion drawled. "We should be moving forward, shouldn't we..." Astarion awaited for the half-elf to give him her name.

The half-elf's response was as cold as winter. "It’s Shadowheart."

“Shadowheart. Let's go now.”Astarion scoffed at the half-elf giving her an equally challenging stare back. Rolling her eyes at Astarion, Shadowheart then carefully wrapped Amaya's wound. "Thank you so much," Amaya said.

“Anything for the person who saved my life.” Shadowheart said, smiling at Amaya her eyes lighting up. “Now let's get moving, lead the way.”

After looting a couple of dead goblins, their path led them to roadside cliffs overlooking what appeared to be temple ruins. As the party approached, a strange rune carved into the ancient stones caught her attention. Amaya paused, "There's something unusual about that rune," she murmured, cautiously moving closer to investigate.

“Amaya, do be careful,” Astarion warned. He had no desire to rescue her from another predicament as he had with the mindflayer. Ignoring the warning from him, Amaya reached out and faintly touched the rune with her fingers, causing her to recoil in pain. Amidst the eerie glow of the rune, a hand abruptly materialized, causing the trio to jump.

“A hand? Anyone?” cried a disembodied voice from the sigil.

Astarion's eyes remained fixed on Amaya, whose complexion grew pale as she stared transfixed at the spectral limb before her. Without any warning, she swiftly slapped the hand.

"Ow!" the voice exclaimed. "Perhaps I should have clarified—a helping hand? Anyone?"

Astarion couldn't contain his laughter. In their brief time together, he'd sensed a kindred spirit in Amaya's mischievous nature. After Amaya interrogated the sigil, she managed to use what was left of her divine magic and successfully pulled out a man. The sudden recoil from the conjuration caused the tiefling to stumble and fall, crashing directly into Astarion, he quickly reached out and grabbed ahold of her waist before she could hit the ground. 

“Hello, I’m Gale of Waterdeep!” the strange man said while dusting off his deep purple robes as the trio surrounded him.

In the corner of Astarion's eyes, the setting sun caught his attention. The sky blazed in a brilliant transformation, shifting from molten gold to soft coral to dusky rose- colors he had not truly seen in nearly two centuries. The fading light painted the landscape in an ethereal glow, turning the mundane into something magical. 

Only half-listening to the conversation behind him, Amaya boasted to the wizard, "I took control of the ship, landed it safely, and saved the day." Astarion couldn't help but snort at her words.

"That vast, burning wreckage behind you somewhat contradicts your story, but here you stand, so who am I to argue?"  the wizard responded sarcastically back at her with amusement.

Lost again in the sunset, a gentle touch on his shoulder startled him from his reverie. Amaya stood beside him, her unusual red eyes reflecting the sunset's dying embers. "Are you coming? We're setting up camp here for the night." She studied his face with quiet curiosity. "Do you like the sunset?"

"I'm used to the busy city," he lied smoothly, "so it's rare to see it like this." The truth- that he hadn't properly watched a sunset in two hundred years, caught in his throat.

"It is beautiful," Amaya murmured, her words trailing off as she gazed at the painted sky. Then, practical as ever: "But you should set up your tent before darkness falls, unless you fancy fumbling with poles in the pitch black." She turned away with a small smile, heading toward a flat patch of ground. Astarion sighed and followed, his feet dragging slightly in the dirt.

Gale, who seemed to be the ever the show-off, had his tent erected in minutes through a series of precise magical gestures. With another flourish of his hands, he conjured a blazing fire in the center of their makeshift camp. The flames cast dancing shadows across the clearing as twilight deepened around them.

"I hate to be bossy," Gale announced, though his tone suggested otherwise, "but I'm designating myself camp cook. Our supplies may be limited, but I promise to make something satisfying for us all."

Shadowheart's response was laced with sarcasm. "Fine, Gale."

Amaya chuckled at their bickering as she scanned the campsite, her smile fading when she noticed Astarion's empty tent. "Hm," she murmured, concern creasing her brow before she pushed the thought aside.

Inside her own tent, Amaya carefully arranged her few possessions. One particular possession made her smile, an old stuffed bunny-somehow preserved in her bag of holding took pride of place on her thin mattress. She found herself imagining ways to make the space more homely: perhaps some hanging plants, or a few cozy blankets. 

Changing quickly from her tattered armor, she borrowed a pair of black trousers from Shadowheart, cinching them with rope to fit her smaller frame. Her dark red underclothes would have to suffice as sleeping attire for the night. As she folded her armor, several gold-plated medallions caught her eye. Most were too damaged to read, their engravings worn smooth or broken, but one bore a partial image- half a skull surrounded by droplets. The symbol tugged at her memory, but like so much else, remained frustratingly out of reach.

Night had fully settled when Amaya joined the others by the fire. Crickets sang their evening chorus as torchlight flickered between their four tents. Gale offered her a bowl of dried fruits and meat with a gentle smile, which she returned gratefully.

"Where's your pale friend?" Shadowheart's question cut through the peaceful silence.

Amaya toyed with a piece of dried meat between her fingers. "Oh, he set up his tent and wandered off somewhere."

"I'd be careful with him." Shadowheart's green eyes bore into her with intensity.

"You don't trust Astarion?"

"Trust is a rare currency, Amaya. I'm not sure I would spend it on someone who drew a knife on me moments after we met." The words fell between them like ice.

Gale choked on his food. "He did what?"

"It's fine," Amaya insisted, though her head began to pound. Dark, unsettling thoughts from earlier crept back, visions of severing Gale's hand and slitting Astarion’s throat caused her to shudder. Amaya then pushed the thoughts away, fighting a wave of nausea.

"Fine," Shadowheart conceded, her gaze fixed on the flames. "But I'm watching him."

----

An hour had passed, and there was still no sign of Astarion. Shadowheart had already retreated to her tent while Amaya tried to focus on Gale's lecture about ceremorphosis, but her headache made it difficult to concentrate. His words blurred together as she stared into the fire.

"Now we have tadpoles slithering through our heads like carnivorous foeti. That's not abstract."

"I'm not too worried," Amaya offered weakly. "We'll find someone who can help."

"That's the spirit! Let's be up with the lark- find a healer before the wee one gets hungry. Oh, hello Astarion!"

Amaya turned around to find the elf had changed into simpler attire: a light blue shirt with ruffled collar and low neckline, paired with well-worn brown trousers and ornate shoes. The clothing showed signs of careful mending, a stark contrast to his earlier pristine outfit.

"Ah, yes. Thank you," he said as Gale thrust a bowl at him, his lip curling slightly at its contents. "Sorry for disappearing. I needed a walk."

"Nonsense!" Gale waved off the apology. "It's been a difficult day. But this wizard needs his beauty sleep, or I'll be absolutely insufferable tomorrow. Goodnight to you both. I should check if Shadowheart's still awake..."

As Gale departed, Astarion settled beside Amaya, setting his untouched food aside.

"Not hungry?"

"Not particularly," he replied tersely.

"I only ate half of mine because I felt sick," she offered. "So you're not alone." Despite his prickly exterior, she found conversation with him came naturally. While she felt a connection with Shadowheart too, something about Astarion's presence put her at ease.

They both started speaking at once, then stopped. "Oh, sorry- you go first," Amaya insisted.

Astarion paused, choosing his words carefully. "So, we're resting here? Turning in for the night?"

"It's no feather bed, but it'll do." She hugged her knees to her chest, pushing dark curls from her face.

"I suppose." His crimson eyes darted around the clearing. "I'm not sure what I expected, really. This is all rather new for me. My nights usually involve bustling streets and bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt is... a little novel."

"I could make you some tea with calming herbs," she offered. "Help you relax."

"Ah, no- tea isn't really my drink." He tapped his temple. "I'll be awake anyway, processing all this. You sleep, I'll keep watch."

"Thank you, that helps. But first- what do you think of our new companions?"

A wicked grin spread across his face. "Ha! Well, we've picked up a wizard who managed to get stuck in his own portal- hardly a promising introduction. And then there's someone whose parents hopefully meant well by naming their child Shadowheart. Rather ominous, don't you think? Unless she chose it herself, which would be even more concerning."

Amaya couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose you’re right but they are all we have currently," She stood, brushing off her borrowed clothes. “You’ll have to excuse me now, I should pray before bed. Have a good night and try to get some rest yourself.”

"The pleasure is all mine. Sweet dreams," he murmured, watching her silhouette move through the moonlight toward her tent.

[lottiesnotebook]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

Thank you for the tag @hyperions-light! Not sure who else has already been tagged, but I'll go for @miladydewintcr @teine-mallaichte @rookgallustroublesomehousehimbo @adainesjacket

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

29! Should probably be more, given the number of snippets I've posted on Tumblr that I think would make solid one shots, but I'm still trying to decide which ones are good enough to upload...

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

477,628 words which is... honestly way more than I expected, especially as it doesn't include all my Tumblr fic which is now at about 90,000 words...

3) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

life 2.0 (Wolf 359), what stays and what fades away (Grishaverse), something enchanting, something deadly (Wolf 359), something monstrous in your eyes (Penumbra Podcast), call it what you want (Wolf 359 AGAIN)

However many Dragon Age fics I have written lately, the stats still call me a Wolf 359 Girlie

4) What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Dragon Age, occasionally the Grishaverse/Shadow and Bone, historically Wolf 359 (my beloved). Occasionally I will get brainworms about a different fandom but it takes a lot of brainrot for me to actually get stuff written down.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! I treasure comments on my fic to the point where I refresh my email inbox after posting a new chapter in search of Comment! I also try to leave comments on all the fics I read, because I know how much it means when I get them. <3

6) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Either waiting for the world to end or all the shattering stars, which isn't exactly surprising - they're both pretty much the same theme (Angsty Mind Control) focussed on two different pairs of characters.

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

If we're not counting pure fluff, probably merry solstice (please don't call), which is at its heart, a holiday romance despite the angst. Pretty much everyone gets to live happily ever after (and they all kiss).

8) Do you get hate on fics?

It hasn't happened so far, and if it did, I would probably cry and then block someone. Fortunately up to now my ship and fandom preferences haven't lined up with anyone's poor little meow meows, but I'm a little nervous for when that day comes...

9) Do you write smut?

I have Attempted Smut, in the Solsticeverse codas a spy in the house of your love. I will probably try again eventually, but it's almost as hard to write as a good fight scene, lol.

10) Do you write crossovers?

Unless you include Daemon AUs, which I love, not really? I tend to like settings where the characters absolutely belong there, so it's hard to come up with crossovers that grip me enough to write them.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not yet, as far as I know.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but it would be an honour.

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

All the time! It's how my beloved @adainesjacket and I got together. <3

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Cannot believe you would limit me to one, but I will try and take my picks from fandoms I actually write for!

Dragon Age - Morrigan/F!Warden

Grishaverse - David Kostyk/Genya Safin

Wolf 359 - Renee Minkowski/Isabel Lovelace

15) What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Ugh this feels like a jinx but maybe the sequel to What Stays and What Fades Away... I'm working on it, I swear, but then Dragon Age happened...

16) What are your writing strengths?

Based on my fic history? Angst and hurt/comfort, probably, along with childhood friendships.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

FIGHT SCENES (also sex scenes). Anything involving choreography and sentences that can't run on for an hour.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I love it! I'm bad at it, but I love it.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

So this is way back in the annals of history and will not be uncovered, but my first ever fics were for a series called The Sisters Grimm, when I was about 12.

20) Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Cannot believe you're asking me to pick my favourite child, but probably something enchanting, something deadly, the first thing I wrote with my wife, and a huge part of how we fell in love. <3

If I can cheekily add solo fics, it's the kick inside, obviously.

[butterflydm]

wot rewatch (book spoilers edition): 2x5

Not only is this one going to have spoilers for all the aired episodes plus any teasers (including the trailer for episode 6), it will also have book spoilers through book 14: A Memory of Light.

An interesting change from the books is Suroth calling Loial a slave -- in the books, the Ogier of the elite guard are very specifically not enslaved (I wonder if they got as badly jacked up by the Longing as the ones in the Westlands but their 'solution' ended up involving the Empress and the Crystal Throne somehow?). Since this exception is never explained in the books, I don't have any issue with it being changed.

2. I also think we are getting some really good set-up here for a potential fracture in the Seanchan once we get deeper into the series -- a fulfillment of the narrative promise that Jordan set up in books 2-9 but then backed away from once we hit Crossroads of Twilight & Knife of Dreams. I'm hopeful that we're actually going to get the Seanchan civil war that the books never gave us but that they desperately needed in order for Mat's characterization to make any damn sense in CoT & KoD.

3. The idea that Ishamael is being something akin to Suroth's Truthspeaker makes a lot of sense (I think only the Imperial family has Truthspeakers in the books? but it makes sense to expand them outward).

4. That Fain plays the game so well with Turak here can serve as a hint that he's playing the subservience game with Ishamael as well (who killed the Fade? in other words).

5. The saa in Lanfear's eyes! I love that we're getting a super-charged look at the True Power this early on. I definitely approve of the change of the Forsaken getting brought back with the True Power rather than being put in new bodies -- that can work in a book, but in a show, you want to keep your actors. Especially when they're so good!

6. The Elyas scene does feel like Elyas is essentially doing triple-duty this season: he's himself (Wolfbrother lore dump); he's Hurin (sniffer who leads them after Fain); he's Noam (completely detached from his previous human life).

7. I do like how Elyas feels... somewhat amoral (not immoral!) -- he cares about his fellow wolves (including Perrin) and only his fellow wolves. Obviously, part of the reason that's there is so that viewers will wonder if Ishamael (the Father of Lies) was telling the truth about Perrin becoming closer to the Shadow the closer he gets to the wolves but that's... a good thing, I think, for Perrin's narrative arc. It gives him a grounded reason to try to avoid embracing the wolves. The show has done a really good job in giving characters believable motivations for their behavior.

Show: has Elyas diss every human that Perrin cares about because he's trying to tell Perrin that he belongs with the wolves and not the humans.

Some Book Readers: Ah-ha! Laila wasn't his pack? Darkfriend!

It was just so clear to me, in watching the episode, that Elyas mentioning Perrin's wife was the last straw that made Perrin push him away. It was not meant as a Darkfriend hint of any kind! Elyas did not know Laila as a person! He does not care about Laila as a person! It's pretty clear that he only cares about Perrin (because he's a fellow Wolfbrother). That's why he only saved Perrin from the caravan; that's why he led Perrin eastward instead of west. He has zero interest in putting himself in danger to help humans; he does not identity with humans.

8. Ooo, I wonder if we're going to see Perrin's wolf name visualized at some point by the wolves -- Young Bull with his axe that is also his horns, strong and protective. Again, the show has done such a good job in showing us the Perrin that I think Jordan wanted us to see but that he didn't quite manage -- pretty much every show-only reactor sees Perrin as genuinely considerate and empathetic and believes that he has a good heart and wouldn't leave people to suffer.

9. Brilliant choice to have Aviendha introduced here and be part of Perrin's storyline. I do really like how Elayne, Aviendha, and Min have all been part of another main character's plotline before anything implied romantic between them and Rand happens. Hopefully, the show does the same thing with Tuon in the season when she gets introduced. I'm going to guess that (rather than going along with Perrin because of Faile) Bain and Chiad are going to help Aviendha meet her toh towards Perrin once she's told that she needs to become a Wise One apprentice and Bain and Chiad will travel with him to the Two Rivers. I suspect that Gaul will be introduced next season as well.

10. I also really like the way they set up Dain and Perrin's future dynamic here as well -- Dain realizes that Perrin is from the Two Rivers, so that gives him a reason to go there after he (mistakenly?) thinks that Perrin has killed his father. I do wonder whether or not Fain will go to the Two Rivers at all. It's kinda... crowded over there, since we know that Slayer was cast (I think). There isn't, imo, any real need for Fain to corrupt the Whitecloaks in the show -- I feel like they can corrupt themselves just fine. (I kinda feel that way about Elaida too) -- and it might be good to tie Fain back into Rand and/or Mat's plotlines.

11. The Seanchan and the Whitecloaks both have a 'evil but not the evil of the Dark One' situation going on, and we kinda get that here, with the (new) innkeeper being even more unhappy with being occupied by Whitecloaks than by the Seanchan. I actually like that they have the new innkeeper here selfishly being okay with the Seanchan -- the issue that I had with various plotlines in CoT & KoD wasn't "it's unrealistic for anyone to be collaborators with the slavers", of course some/many people are selfish enough that it doesn't matter to them that some people get enslaved as long as it isn't them; it was an issue with specific characters turning collaborator without there being anywhere near enough work in the characterization or narrative to justify it. That was the issue that I had.

Especially since this same conversation does illustrate how selfish this man's PoV is, if you pay attention to the dialogue. The old innkeeper's granddaughter was kidnapped by the Seanchan -- SHE would not agree with him that they're totally chill if you only just swear the oaths.

12. Seeing Lady Suroth like this, 'dressed down', as it were, gave me quite a start. She looks almost naked without the super-long nails and the helmet and with me being able to see that she has no eyebrows. Like, it gives her a big 'pathetic and vulnerable' vibe even though she's been just as awful as she was in her introduction.

And it makes me wonder... are people who are sympathetic to Tuon in Crossroads of Twilight and Knife of Dreams also more likely to be good at visualization when they read? Because, personally, I don't see pictures in my head when I read books. I think it's part of the reason why I can so easily accept adaptations in the first place -- there's no prior image that I need to override. I had no firm mental image of how 'Rand' or 'Nynaeve' or anyone looked in the books, so the actors can easily become that person for me. It's all just... words in my head for me. The most that I ever visualize is something akin to black and white abstract sketches.

How this relates to Tuon: one of the deeply frustrating things about CoT+ Mat to me is how he behaves like Tuon is 'not like the other Seanchan' even though her behavior on the page is just as rancid and terrible as any other Blood. But, in her descriptions in CoT & KoD, she doesn't visually resemble other Seanchan anymore -- her hair is growing out, she's in Westlands clothing instead of Seanchan High Blood clothing. But as someone who doesn't visualize characters and scenes when I'm reading a book, the clothes that a character is wearing has little to no impact on my perception of them as a character.

Is it different if you do/can visualize how differently Tuon looks when she's traveling with Mat vs how she looked when she was embedded in the Seanchan power structure? Because it really does genuinely confuse me when I see people repeat what Mat says about her being different from the other Seanchan because her behavior is just... identical to all the other Seanchan Blood from what I've seen in the books -- intensely political and manipulative; firmly supports and believes in slavery; gets off on torture and abuses her slaves even while believing that she's the bestest and kindest slave owner in the world; thinks of herself as inherently better because she's Of The Blood, etc. I remember when Mat places her in the same 'better than other nobles' category as Talmanes in KoD, my brain just bluescreened because he's consistently been shown on the page that she's still just as awful as the others (the chapter where she literally collars and tortures three of his allies is certainly never anything I'm forgetting, even if Mat 'goldfish' Cauthon forgot about it five minutes after it happened). But, yeah, if you visualize characters and scenes when reading books, do those visuals have an impact on how you think of the characters?

(on a character level, I understand why Mat would lie to himself about Tuon if he genuinely believes himself to be trapped in a marriage with her -- the issue with that is two-fold though: a. with Mat's other lies to himself, we are given outside context with other PoVs and behavior from other characters to see that he's lying while in CoT and KoD, we're pretty firmly locked into Mat's warped perspective, and b. Jordan did a shit job of showing why Mat gave up so quickly and just believed that he's doomed to be married to Tuon without him making ANY attempts at fighting the prophecy)

13. Looking forward to the future... I do suspect that we'll still get Semirhage trying to shape and mold Tuon (unless we don't get enough seasons), but I think in the end (exploring @sixth-light's idea about having a split Seanchan Empire instead of having the Sharans), we may end up with Suroth in charge of one half of the Seanchan (who will fight for the Shadow) and one half led by Tuon (who will fight for the Light) and that we will, hopefully, be getting a Tuon who actually has to confront what being a sul'dam means and that the Seanchan will fracture on the issue of slavery (which would make their American accents even more apt) instead of the Westlands characters becoming friends and lovers with gleefully cruel slavers. Having Tuon's 'stubbornness' and pushback against Semirhage actually lead to her questioning the established order would be so much more powerful than her stubbornness being used as an excuse for her dodging and avoiding any character growth for the entire time that she hangs around.

14. I hope that Aviendha's amusement here over Perrin's protectiveness is perhaps going to be more of the vibe we get with Rand & the Maidens once that relationship gets going. Rand really doesn't have the same reasons (so far) to be as unreasoningly overprotective of them as he is in the books, since the Two Rivers in the show aren't Weird about women in danger the way that the books are. It's very much a Perrin hangup because of his wife and we've seen it develop over time. And if Rand feels some protectiveness, I'd like it to be tied more towards him feeling like he doesn't want to lose any of his newfound family.

15. It feels clear that Moiraine is absolutely still bound by the Three Oaths. She obviously WANTS to lie in the scene where she's introducing Rand to Anvaere and Barthanes, but she isn't able to. It's played very much the same way as when she was caught in the Oath last season (one of the funniest moments in S1 is when she wants to tell the Two Rivers' kids that she trusts them now but she absolutely doesn't trust them and can't say the words).

16. So, who in this scene is a Darkfriend. I suspect that Barthanes is and I suspect that Anvaere is not. Anvaere's information session with Moiraine last episode completely destroyed the Shadow's plans for Rand -- it could be the Shadow tripping over itself but I suspect it's just that Anvaere is what she seems to be -- a very political but non-Shadow-aligned person.

17. I wonder if the end of the next episode is going to timeskip us the few weeks to the wedding (thus making it so that Egwene spends several weeks in 'training') -- or maybe we'll timeskip between episodes 6&7. From the preview, it looks like we're going to spend some serious time showing how horrible and dehumanizing the damane 'training' is. What they might do is show us the initial beginning of it -- and then we jump forward and see how things are after several weeks? The mention of the wedding just feels... potentially significant, since it's not from the books. This would give Perrin time to travel to Falme with Aviendha; Mat and Min would have time to get to Cairhien; Elayne and Nynaeve would have time to bond; and Siuan would also have time to get to Cairhien, since we know she goes there at some point. And it might mean that, along with Egwene getting her 'training' from Renna, we might also get Rand getting some training from Logain and potentially Lan as well.

18. I love Verin kickstarting the Black Ajah Hunt so much. I already talked about this a lot in my earlier post about Darkfriends, so I won't get into it here but: fantastic choice. It does imply to me that we don't really need the Wondergirls to go back to the Tower next season to get their Black Ajah Hunting instructions, since there's already a Hunt started by full Sisters. Which I would be fine with -- they literally spend less than a week in the White Tower in book 3. They dip in for Egwene & Elayne's tests, to get more instructions from Siuan, and then dip out again. I feel like the show could easily have them decide to hunt the Black Ajah of their own accord (Nynaeve in particular has a reason to want to go after Liandrin).

19. I do not think that Sheriam knows that Verin is 'Black Ajah' or that Liandrin is (more genuinely) Black Ajah. She and Liandrin were at odds too much earlier in the season over Nynaeve imo. Joiya, otoh, I think might know that Liandrin is also Black Ajah, because she immediately backed Liandrin up in the big group discussion.

20. "We respect the One Power so much that we don't believe that anyone should wield it by accident of birth". I've seen other people (reactors on youtube) wondering if this conversation means that the Seanchan already know that sul'dam are learners, since they talk about training the sul'dam for years and them earning the right to use the One Power, but this line in particular makes me feel like they don't know. Because sul'dam are only sul'dam because of an 'accident of birth' as well. I'm sure that we'll find out, because the realization of the sul'dam secret was a pretty huge moment with Egwene in the books (even if Min & Nynaeve appeared to have completely forgotten the information when they were spending time with Rand later in the series) so it will definitely stand out if it gets played differently and Renna doesn't get that horror of realizing that she, too, is marath'damane.

21. I've also seen people wonder why the damane & sul'dam didn't catch on that Liandrin was channeling to wake the girls and free Nynaeve, but she was channeling that entire time (to hold open the Waygate) so her tiny weave would have been masked by the larger one.

22. Aviendha's attitude towards obligation and honor is going to be such an interesting contrast to how weighed down Rand is by his obligations. Looking forward to them getting some good scenes together in s3.

23. I hope Egwene gets to hit Renna over the head in this version too. And collar her to the wall. I can already tell that this is going to be painful and intense. I did notice that a lot of show-only reactors have NOT picked up on how terrifying and awful the damane slavery is yet, but I feel like the show is going to make it very clear in the next episode. (I don't know how you can look at Egwene in pain here and not already understand but... next week should make things crystal clear).

The preview did show us how... earnest (ugh) Renna is going to be in her 'training' of Egwene. The way she called the damane kennels "your new home" and the (horrifying) sincerity in her voice.

I'm actually wondering if Egwene is going to be freed in episode 7, before Rand gets to Falme, since Perrin and Aviendha are headed in the direction of Falme and it's Perrin who is attached to the Ingtar and Horn storylines and not Rand (who didn't even find out that the Horn is a thing that exists until 2x3). Because Rand isn't actually involved in her rescue in the books iirc -- that was Elayne and Egwene (with Min tagging along). He spots her and seeing her is why he refuses to leave, but since he's going there for his own purposes unrelated to the Horn in this version (I assume), then he doesn't need that extra push to stay. From the preview for episode 6, it kinda sounds like Loial & co are going to try to help her be freed but I'm not sure if it'll work that soon.

Expecting next episode to be extremely rough, emotionally.

Additional spoilers/speculation based on imdb listings (which may not be entirely accurate):

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The actress who played Maigan in S1 is listed as being in the next three episodes (6, 7, 8). She was planning to go west to investigate the rumors. She has not been seen in the White Tower this season. The actress who is playing Ryma is only listed for episodes 5 & 6. Renna is listed for all the remaining episodes; Seta is listed for the final two episodes. That just all seems like interesting information to me, though again, imdb.

Complete side note, episode 7 is the episode that Hayley Mills is listed for. I wonder if she's the Queen of Cairhien that Barthanes is marrying.

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SNOWFALL SEASON 1 Franklin (PART 3)

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Angst. Drama. Use of the n-word. Here is part (1),(2). 

Summary: You’ve seen the worst parts of him and the best parts of him and vice versa. That’s why you made a good pair, but the recent knowledge of his new life path has torn you both apart. However when tragedy strikes, it might be the thing you need to take another look at the Franklin you fell in love with.   

Word count: 8,350k / Please Consider leaving a Comment to show some love. It's oh so appreciated and encourages me to write more for y'all! 

In places it could touch, the sun beat down mercilessly on the cracked pavement under the highway, casting a harsh glare on the graffiti-covered walls amid the L.A heat. Secluded, hidden from view by the thick pillars, the smell of exhaust and garbage lingered thick in the air. Franklin held a hand over his face, body hunched by the aftermath of the hit. Leon stepped back, tilting his head to access the damage. The sound of cars whizzed above overhead.

“My bad nigga.”

Franklin turned to face him. Blushing red markings visible just over his eyebrow and the other sitting under his eye. Marks left deep. 

“This is a loaded fuckin’ gun!” He shouted. “What the hell is wrong wit’ you man!” 

Leon frowned and closed space, surprised by Franklin's rage. The lack of acceptance of the apology, caused Leon to scowl. The two stood close in face, eyes steady on the other. Hard and held in place. 

“You ain’t gotta be doin’ all that yellin’ aight,” he shouted back. “You wanna be a trigger man go’ head. It’s all you.” 

“Just-” Franklin waved him off and turned his back. He walked a few paces away until he stood in the line of a shadow. Feet planted firmly apart, eyes focused on the target in front of him. He took aim. His finger gently caressed the trigger. A sense of urgency resided in his movements, and a tension in the atmosphere that made his hands shake slightly stayed present. When he reloaded the gun, he did so with precision. Franklin took sight of the toy figures he'd sat up earlier that morning. He fired off several rounds.The sound of the shots echoed under the highway. Bullets hit just above the targets. Leon shook his head at another missed attempt. 

“Look man. Maybe this whole movie thing ain’t such a good idea tonight. Know what I'm sayin’? Feel like this might take a lil’ longer than we planned.” 

Franklin shook his head. “Naw. We can still do it.” He squeezed the trigger and the gun recoiled, the sound of the shot echoing off the concrete walls to a light spark that only lasted the split of a second before it faded. He quickly reloaded and fired again, each attempt hitting closer and closer to the center of one of the targets.

“But why?” Leon sounded from behind after four more bullets flew. “Shit seems irrelevant to what we got goin’ on.”

“Because I keep ma’ word Lee,” Franklin answered without hesitation. 

A small chuckle left the afro wearing gang member. “Naw, fuck all that. You got pussy on the brain, nigga. I mean, I get it. Not really the type of mindset we need right now, but, maybe if yo ass was gettin’ some, you would shoot better.”

Franklin frowned and shut his eyes for a moment baring his teeth in irritation. “Lee, shut the fuck up. Ain't no body thinkin' about no pussy right now, man. Bigger shit to worry about if you ain't kno.”

“Yeah, aight Saint. We can do this movie thing. How you know she still wanna talk to yo’ ass tho’. Bet you ain't called her since she got out the hospital, wit yo oh pussy whipped self, ” Leon said in effort to poke the bear. 

Franklin cracked his neck and squinted his eyes in the direction of the dinosaur in the middle of the two robots. “Clearly, been dealin’ wit’ a lot as you can see. If I don’t get that money back, I can forget the talkin’ period. Avi’s gonna kill me. Or worse, probably cut out my fuckin’ tongue.” He closed one eye and aimed down the barrel, lining up his shot. The loud bang echoed through the empty space, followed by the clatter of the bullet hitting metal in the distance. He took a moment to adjust his aim before firing again.

“Speaking of. We got time, we should roll up to his spot first.”

Franklin threw a glance over his shoulder to look at Leon. “Why?” 

“Because nigga. Maybe that motherfucka can give us some advice. Not like we in the position to be opposed to it. You act like I do this shit all the time. Besides, if you gon’ be a killer, may as well get the kno’ how from a professional.” 

Franklin took a deep breath and let it out slowly before firing off, this time, hitting one of the robots on the end.

…

Between all the tests and medication instruction, you were completely exhausted when you stepped through your front door with Cissy by your side, helping you keep steady and up right. God bless her, she did you this kindness after working long grueling hours for that prick of a boss, the day before. There was a dizziness that lingered a few hours afterward. Not to mention the slight headache that kept pounding at your brain like a nat that just wouldn’t leave, and when Cissy asked if you needed anything, the answer was always no. After all, she had done more than her share. 

Between you and your mother, you couldn’t be sure who threw up more that first night you came back. What you could be certain is that you’d both said less than three words to one another. Hardly even looked in each other's direction. Or asked if the other was okay. That word in its own right seemed a trivial thing, because of course neither of you were okay, and not likely to ever be okay again. 

You noticed how worn out she looked when Cissy had sat her down on the couch to talk. You could hear them from the bathroom as your bones found comfort in the heat of the water you laid. Her eyes were red and puffy. That was one trait that stuck. So puffy it was like she’d had an allergic reaction to something. She could barely open them. Tender skin, probably filled with parental regret. I could have done more. I should have been there to protect him. Why not me instead?

It was like Cissy knew all these things. These questions that your mother could not speak. Then again. She had experience. You could kill Franklin for lying to her. She might forgive the marijuana, but cocaine was a whole nother monster. You knew it would break her heart, yet despite the knowledge of such truth you never said a word. You never overstepped your boundaries when it came to Franklin and his mama. Remembering how Cissy assured your mother more than once that she had been a good woman, and that what happened was entirely out of her control, you kept your peace. 

“I’m here to help. I can bring you dinner before I head off to work so you don’t have to cook. But you both need to eat.”

If only you could explain that it hadn’t been her cooking that turned your stomach inside out. Of Course you could only speak for yourself, and since your mother had decided to take a vow of silence you could only assume that just like you, the sadness had caused an after taste of bitterness to sit on the tongue, so potent that anything you thought remotely tasted good before, was just like eating dog shit, fresh.   

That had been three days ago. Three days of depressive sleep and crying, not to mention, avoiding Ronnie’s room every chance you got. There was a part of you that wished it would disappear, and another part that hated the thought of it eventually being gone. Time would move on, and pretty soon his things would no longer hold space. You’d switch your thoughts to food. Standing there in your towel fresh out from the shower, phone in hand, you were starving. Your tummy let you know it every other second with a cramp and a grumble begging you desperately to feed whatever creature lingered inside, dormant and angry while you talked. Your grip on the phone grew tighter as you fought through another hunger pain to watch your mother walk past you and out the front door. You sighed only to focus on the voice speaking through on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah, okay. I will. I'll definitely think about it. And yeah, I'll absolutely keep you updated. Alright. Bye.” 

You listened to the click before the dial tone sounded as your smile fell. A wonder it had been on your face in the first place. Could it be decoded by the person on the other end, or did it more so aid the facade you were presenting? The one that said you were very much holding up and making it.

The puddle of water under your toes had grown since the duration of the conversation. The water dripped from different places, but mostly from the ends of your hair. With no desire to do anything about it, you reached over, holding the towel close at your breast to place the phone on the receiver before you turned. 

Your mother’s absence had no significant changes on the way you felt most of the time being home. Either with her there or without, a lonesome feeling remained. You liked the solitude but came to find your thoughts had a funny way of suffocating you. Another cramp swelled at your insides and you could no longer fight the desire for food.   

When you entered, the dishes greeted you. The kitchen area was small but functional. Modern appliances and a good sized dining table. The night you’d gone to Cho’s and got the news about Ronnie, your mother had asked you to clean them, but since your three day stay at the hospital, you hadn’t gotten around to it. The inner part of you that was susaquent to her approval had you walking up to the sink to start some water, but instead of give into the temptation of pleasing someone who had ignored you and who hadn’t bothered to visit on any of the three days, you B-lined and opened the refrigerator door to scan over your choices for food. 

Not many options, you reached down to grab the apple right before you noticed a plate that hid behind the milk carton. It was covered with silver tin foil. A meal Cissy had left, probably. You had slept many hours and only when time reached mid afternoon had you decided on a shower before the phone rang. 

You reached inside to grab it, with Franklin on your mind. 

Why hadn’t he called? 

You wanted to be mad but frustration warranted you to a harsh reality. The better question was why had you expected him to. 

You removed the foil and placed the plate into the microwave. Watched the light flick on, and walked away toward the hall once it started up. 

When you got to the living room you used the remote to turn on the tv that filled your home with the voices of strangers and an altered reality of forced happiness. 

The added pressure of passing Ronnie’s room had you sitting on the edge of your bed in a daze after you’d found a pair of shorts and tank top to wear. Your stomach was eating itself, but your leg bounced in cowardice and the dread of having to pass the door in order to get back to the plate of food waiting for you in the microwave. 

The law books didn’t help in your plight. They only served as harsh reminders of failure. You didn’t need anymore representations. The dream you had in the hospital, or whatever the hell it was, did its due diligence just fine. Why be tortured?  

You combed out your hair and rubbed vaseline over your legs and arms before you stood to your feet and looked in the mirror. You didn’t keep the focus long, hating how your eyes were reddened and almost like your mothers when you made the mistake of catching sight of polaroids taped at the top of your long mirror. 

There were many with different depictions of moments in time when you felt content. A picture of you with a group of friends at school at lunch. The time you’d captured your mother putting on her lipstick. You and Leon with matching afro’s, you and Melody playing dress up, Kevin with a group of girls in the hallway right before the bell rang before class. Your uncle on the grill. You and Ronnie riding bikes down the street, you there with Franklin with his arm over your shoulder, both of you smiling, and the one your mother had given you. A picture of your father, a younger Ronnie and a baby version of you in his arms.

You couldn't be sure which was worse, the seen or the unseen, but you made the decision to hold your breath when you walked past his room without looking. 

…

The food was cold by the time you made it back in the kitchen to retrieve the plate. With no desire to put it through another round of warm up, you went back to the living room and sat on the couch with the plate in your lap as you grabbed the remote and switched through channels until you settled on a station you liked.

Tuna casserole. Quick and easy for the most part, you were thankful for Cissy. 

Your spoon made a substantial scoop and finally you could put to rest the hunger pains while Good Times resumed its running episode, What’s happening to Florida?  

You laughed as you watched Thelma snatch JJ’s hat off, waking him up from his nap wrapped tightly in a pink and green patterned blanket, as he pleaded with a smile to allow her to finish some dream he’d gone on about. You took another bite of food, and little by little as you ate, became less and less hungry. 

When the commercial break happened you’d gotten up to retrieve a glass of water, only to return with the announcer going on about the big movie premier.

‘Ladies and Gents, you should get yourself down to a movie theater tonight, because Eddie Murphy and Dan Aykroyd will be debuting their hilarious new comedy as two very different men who Trade Places-’ 

The words had been drowned out by thoughts. Past thoughts of you and Franklin discussing the movie when the very first trailer dropped. You’d been at the park, each of you on a swing. 

“You gonna take me right?” You’d said only to fly slightly past his view. His eyes stayed on you, followed. 

“We can make a whole day out of it. Dinner first, then the movie.” 

Franklin had laughed. “You really tryna break a nigga’s pockets, huh?” 

You had frowned and slowed down your swing. “Boy, I'm very much worth it. Besides you can always get them ugly lil oh’ shoes you want later. Just cuz you wanna one up Leon.  But all that aside, we need to be there on opening night. No if ands or buts about it. So make it happen Frank.” 

You sipped the water as you remembered how he’d grabbed the chain on the swing and stopped you completely. Your eyes stayed on each other, and you couldn’t help but look at his lips, briefly before you'd gotten sassy with a head tilt with your own lips poked and coated lightly with the carmex you always kept on hand, ready to challenge whatever he would say. 

“Why you always gotta be there for opening night?” 

“I just do. Besides you know no one can keep their damn mouth shut. If you don’t see it right then, everyone usually ruin’s it.”

He had brought you closer and leaned in for a kiss. A kiss you had taken your time with. His last words, that the two of you would go.

You eased your grip on the glass and took a big gulp of water before you put it down and shut off the Television. You grabbed your plate of food and walked out the front door to make your way to the swinging chair sitting on your porch as you heard the screen door slam. 

The air that found you was a refreshing contrast to the staleness that lingered within your home. Very much a needed relief, you acknowledged how the L.A heat hugged you. You had just the right amount of shade and you settled in your seat to resume eating with thoughts of Franklin and Eddie’s new movie behind you. 

…

Your body jerked you back awake when the ice cream truck drove past with screaming neighborhood kids running behind it, money raised and ready for the taking. The heat still enveloped you like a larva in a cocoon although the sky didn’t give an accurate indication of the current time, blue and clear enough to possibly offer up a couple more hours of light before the sun would begin to set. You had no idea how long you sat there. 

You lowered a hand to reach down for your glass of water. When your hand didn't touch it, you raised your head to look over the side of the chair. Only the plate and spoon. You sighed, far too lazy to go into the house after it, forgetting at what point you had put it down. Instead, you shut your eyes and cosied back into the light rock of the swinging chair with your mouth that had gone dry. 

Not two minutes into your rocking did a loud base rumble the block, with George Clinton’s Nubian Nut. The noise had one of your eyes open and searching for the source. 

A car similar to Kevin’s made its way down the street. You raised your head as it continued, stopping just shy of your gate. Franklin stepped out from the back car door, passed through the gate, and trailed the sidewalk all the way up the steps of the porch, minus one. He placed his hands in his pockets, and for a moment the two of you just stared at each other. Part of you thought it might be another dream until the buzzing fly had you swatting it away. 

All you could register was the shirt he wore as the music lowered in volume. The very shirt you'd brought him for his birthday the year prior, after you'd mentioned how the color had the potential to do wonders for his skin tone. Why had he chosen this shirt to show up in? Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe like most times you were reading too much into it. 

As the question echoed the inner workings of your mind you held back a smile that tickled your lips. If memory served you correctly, although he disagreed with such admiration, he wore it many times after that day. Dare you conclude it had become a favorite in his wardrobe? Or at the very least, inspiration for more pops of color. You could still remember the grin on his face as he opened it among the many other gifts he'd gotten between cake, balloons and singing. 

Your eyes traveled over him.

There was something that didn’t belong to the vibrant color of this type of orange that reminded you of some far off place with fresh fruit, and tropical birds that flew above black people who spoke a different language. It was the wound. The wound was still fresh. It's tint. Out of place. The red mingled within the broken flesh, evident. “Happen to ya face Franklin?” You asked, still looking at the cuts on his deep brown skin, and with enough audacity to skip any formalities. 

Franklin merely shook his head and snickered. “Nothin’. Accident at work.”

You always wondered how he could be such a terrible liar. Or maybe it was simply that you knew better. 

“Right. Work,” you huffed. “That why I didn't hear from you? Or, did it have something to do with selling cocaine? Got caught up?” You rolled your eyes and looked away with a defeatist sigh. You would offer up your disapproval every chance you got. 

Franklin sighed as well, his features almost annoyed by the statement. “Look, I didn't come here to fight. Came to pick you up. So you gonna come or not? We got this whole night planned. We hit Eddie first, then Cujo.”

Maybe a different version of you would have considered it, or Imagined in your mind how the night would play out with all the laughs and good company. Somehow you couldn't see it, and all you could picture was climbing back into bed, and more sleep. A quick glance at the car to reel in Leon's afro into view, along with the smoke from Kevin's cigarette, Melody's lime green purse, and you shook your head slouching down in your swinging seat. “Nope. You go ahead. Have fun.”

Franklin chuckled, and leaned to lightly smack your leg. “Come on. Stop playin’. You love Eddie Murphy. Besides, you been waitin’ for this premier for weeks.” 

Oh, so he had remembered. You thought that your breakup would mean the end of all future plans. After his reaction of wanting to keep the planning hush in the hospital, you figured you wouldn't be invited. 

“Go grab a hoodie,” Franklin said. “We gotta get there. Starts soon.” 

You smiled. Your bed felt so close you were practically already in it.  “Then you probably shouldn't be late then, huh?” As you folded your arms, your smile faded. Sinking down until your legs could reach the ledge, you propped them up, one after the other and closed your eyes allowing yourself to feel the sounds of the neighborhood. 

 “Alright fuck it.” Franklin shrugged, climbing the last step. “I'll just sit here then. Be miserable too.” 

You opened your eyes and stared at him, shocked at what he said. You weren't miserable! 

“Excuse me?” 

You watched him put on a frown, but it was filled with a taunting sarcasm. 

How's the saying go again? Misery loves company?” He turned to you, poking out his bottom lip for extra effect as he found his seat. “How I look?” He smacked your leg for the second time and proceeded to move forward with his horrible acting.

A glare on you burning and present, you watched him mimic a fake pout. “Oh, fuck you Franklin.” You threw your hand in the direction of the car. “Will you leave me alone and just go!”

The rise in your voice got the attention of Leon, Kevin and Melody. 

“Well. Hope the line ain't that long for popcorn. At this rate, we probably gon’ miss the first part of the movie.” Leon said loud enough for you to hear it. 

Beeeeep Beeeeep 

“Aye, get y'all shit together and let's go!” Kevin yelled from Melody’s window. 

Your legs hit the ground at the second beep of the car horn. You threw a quick glance at your neighbor's house. 

“Hey Kevin, chill out! You know Mr. Baker doesn't like all that loud noise this time of day!”

“Hurry yo’ asses up then. All that shouldn't take this long. If y'all wanna conversate, do all that in the car!” He shouted back. 

You faced Franklin with eager angry eyes. “Okay. Seriously. Go. Mr. Baker gon’ tell ma mama when she get back if he gets woken up from his nap. Last thing I need.” 

You waited but nothing. Stiff as a board. Franklin made no effort to get up and move from the place he'd made for himself on the extra chair not too far from where you sat. Instead he settled in place, only getting more comfortable. “Naw,” he offered with ease. “I'm serious. I wanna make sure anyone walking by can see the pain from where we are.” He sat up just enough from his slouch to direct his attention to the sidewalk. “Hey everyone, how's the sad face workin’ out for me. Do I look good? Thinkin’ bout’ keepin’ it. Forget that my friends came to cheer me up!” 

The two women who Franklin had caught the attention of looked for a moment, and then continued on their way, only picking up their pace in the process as they walked.

Leon stood in the open door of the car and tilted his head as his eyes went from the women to the porch.“What you say Saint?”

Franklin offered a wave, then turned to smile at you. “Nothin’ we all just chillin!” 

You smacked your teeth. “Really? You're so damn childish. Forreal. Just go.” You rose up, frustrated as you smacked his arm, harder than you had his leg. “Quit playing wit’ me.” 

The hit didn't phase Franklin's determination. In response, he locked his hands together and sat them casually on his lap. “Nope. I'm good.” He'd flipped his hands around and placed them at the back of his head, extending his legs to prop them up on the ledge. Just as you had done. Once he closed his eyes, a smirk had found his lips, and you knew he'd won. 

“Whenever you wanna grab that hoodie.” 

“Such a fuckin’ annoying ass-” you jumped up from your chair barely able to complete your sentence and leaned to snatch up Cissy's plate from the floor, before you shuffled inside the house, stomping the entire way to the kitchen.

“Yeah, well. Learn from the best so hurry up!” Franklin called after you which only earned him another roll of your eyes. 

You would have thrown the plate at the wall, but since it was Cissy's and you'd only gain yourself attention from the crash, you decided against it. 

You moved swiftly through the house huffing and puffing your way into Ronnie's room with the knowledge that all your other hoodies were in the hamper, dirty. Not much energy for washing clothes, you decided on a black and gray hoodie from the closet, one that had an imprint of Malcom X’s face and X symbol, not at all realizing that it had been Franklin who broke your pattern of avoidance that had you enter your dead brother's bedroom. 

By the time you were nearing the door, Franklin had removed his hands, and let his legs fall back to the ground as he leaned forward. The smirk was no longer on him, replaced instead with a frown as he reached up to touch the cut just over his brow. He hissed at the perpetual sting the contact of his fingers brought and raised his chin up toward the sky, allowing the sun to kiss at his skin. You grabbed your inhaler and watched him. A familiar sadness found its way back as you stepped out the door to shut and lock it, remembering the phone call you were on earlier that day. Only when Franklin heard you did he stand and bring the smile back. 

“Ready?”  

…

The open windows allowed a warm breeze that pulled from a beautiful glow akin to sunset and entered through the space of Kevin's ride like the words of a story.  

From where you sat you watched Kevin nod his head to the beat of a song and turn up the volume when the next  flooded through the surrounding speakers while he drummed his hands on the steering wheel. Besides the music, conversation among the friend group was minimal to none. More importantly you hated the seating arrangement. Leon wanted a window, and so did Franklin, landing you in the middle in line of the front mirror as Kevin drove. You noticed how he would look in it, at you, then back to the road which strangely made it read like the hot seat. Any other time you would have fought tooth and nail for one of the windows, anything to avoid the driver's gaze. This time you accepted an easy defeat. 

Seeing your eyes, you sighed. They were still puffing from your cry at the hospital, from the night before. You hated crying. The after effect could linger on for days. Only, they were nowhere close to your mothers eyes. Had that been the case, Franklin and no one else would have persuaded you to come out. You were grateful that no one mentioned it. You knew they noticed, but chose not to say anything on account of the situation being necessary for such an after effect. They might all think something was wrong with you, had you not cried at all.  

The tired silence seemed a long while before Kevin spoke. He'd begun to snap his fingers and immerse himself in the tempo of the current song. 

“Alright now. Imma need some groovin’ and movin’.” 

You felt the vibration of the speaker's. Kevin had turned the knob on the radio more and more, elevating the volume substantially. Leon tilted his head, Melody threw a glance in Kevin’s direction, and Franklin grinned before garnering his attention back out the window to the passing L.A scenery. No one made any effort to sing along. 

“Aye. Y'all don't get to be boring in my ride,” you heard Kevin blurt out as the song switched from L.T.D’s Back In Love to Shalamar’s A Night to Remember. “Either you sing or I put ya ass out.”

The looks thrown around were unanimous. Everyone suddenly paid attention. All eyes on Kevin. He grinned, throwing a glance in the mirror only a second before his eyes were right back on the road. Leon sucked his teeth and raised his chin to challenge the threat. 

“Man, get that shit outta here.”

Kevin glared through the mirror and pulled the steering wheel. Car horns sounded off. The swerve had you shoulder bumping Leon and holding on for dear life while Kevin settled into the farthest lane just barely missing a collision. 

“You see that sidewalk? Think I'm playing. I'll drive right over to that bitch.”

You noticed Franklin in your peripheral. He'd sat up, alert. Chest going up and down. His eyes ran over you before he sat his hand on your leg. “You okay?” 

You gave him a quick nod. He directed his attention to the front where Melody sat. “Mel, you good?” 

She didn't answer, instead she turned and smacked Kevin's arm.  “The hell, you almost gave me and everyone else in here a heart attack!” 

“Kev man, are you serious?” Franklin added, eyes wide on the road, then behind to the people in the car who expressed their anger with curse words none of you could hear and middle fingers being thrown as compensation for the silent words.

Leon hit the back of Kevin's seat, fist balled and chest puffed. “What the fuck, drive like you got some sense nigga!” 

You straightened out your hoodie. You could still feel your heart pounding when Kevin chuckled and lit up a freshly rolled joint he'd taken from the ashtray. 

“Well, get ta’ singing damnit, like you heard what I said.” He exhaled, releasing the smoke from his lungs that went rushing out the side window due in part to the speed the car traveled. “I know you know how Lee. You carry that damn boom box around enough. Can't just be fa’show.”

Leon sat back pointing. “Fuck you.”

Kevin lifted his middle finger and threw it back in Leon’s direction. “Aye, fuck you to. Mel.” He brought on a smile as he looked at her. “Come on girl, let's hear it.”

Melody shook her head and laughed. “Oh my God Kev. You stupid. And you almost killed us, so yeah, no.” 

His smile fell. “You wanna get out? I'll pull this bitch right over and call Andre to come pick ya up. Just say the word.”

Melody shook her head and narrowed her gaze on him, but a small grin made its way to her lips as the song played. It was one of the powerful trio's best. A party hit that made it hard to resist after a while. Melody, succumbing to the pop of the tune started moving her head to the beat and began to sing along to the lyrics earning a face of displeasure from Leon who seemed to sit back disappointed that she’d given in, but a hoot from Kevin who'd passed her the joint as his voice came in on a few lyrics. 

Get ready, gonna make this a night to remember…

Kevin threw a glance over his shoulder directed on Franklin. “Come on Saint. Let’s go.”

Leon had leaned into you, bumping your shoulder. This time it had little to do with Kevin’s horrible driving. This time he had a smile on his face and just like Melody he’d fallen into Kevin’s request to sing. With a  scrunch your nose at his singing, you felt another shoulder bump coming from Franklin’s side, with even worse singing that filled the car. 

“Your turn Afro puff,” Kevin said, snapping his fingers. “You the last one to catch the groove. I love ya, but please believe I'll have ya ass out here walkin’.” 

You hadn’t realized your shoulders were beginning to put in work until you waved him off. “No no come on. It's okay Kevin. I got a headache.” 

“I don’t give a fuck. The singing will help wit’ the headache, come on.” 

You laughed. Franklin and Leon tried to out do the other’s singing amidst Kevin's persuasion, and with Kevin and Melody’s voices jumping on the lyrics, you finally broke and joined in on the madness. You smiled, then began to shimmy your shoulders to the beat. Repeating the lyrics as the joint passed to Leon. 

This night you won’t forget. Gonna make this a night to remember….

“Aight, see there ya’ go. Y'all can’t sing worth a damn but that's how we spose ta’ have fun.” Kevin shouted over the car full of voices. 

By the time the song ended you'd arrived. A line had already begun to form outside with crowds of people eager to see the new releases. Kevin parked, and one by one You, Franklin, and Leon took exit from the backseat.

“Whelp let’s do this y'all.” Leon said, smoothing down his brown shirt. 

“Wait wait hold on,” Kevin interjected as he leaned to dig around in his glove compartment. “Let's do a picture real quick since we got all us here.” 

He searched around until he caught hold of an unsuspected victim to be the designated picture taker. Some girl who had been walking with her friend. One who’d given Kevin her number right before she walked away. Leon had taken the friend's. 

When the image made itself visible you offered the smiling faces a grin of acknowledgement with the hopes of a good night. 

…

“Mind if I sit with you while we wait for them?”

Your mind had latched to two different spaces. One in the present and the other of countless possibilities. All things new. You only heard Melody because she was standing so close. All the other conversations, you had gone deaf to. 

“Uh huh.” 

You look down at the space beside you. You had taken off your hoodie and sat it down. A tactic done on purpose so that no one would think it was okay to sit by you randomly. The theater was packed with people. A normal turn out for a friday night, but with a new Eddie Murphy movie, it seemed to be double the amount. You grabbed the article of clothing and placed it on your lap, motioning your hand toward the empty space you’d made. 

“Please. Help yourself.” 

Your eyes tracked the places where Franklin, Kevin and Leon had gone. They were closer to getting the tickets as the line continued to move. You looked at all of them, but your eyes settled over Franklin a little longer. 

“I uh, just wanted to tell you personally, how sorry I am about Ronnie.” 

You blinked, breaking your gaze on Franklin. You’d begun to run a thumb over your knuckles. Everytime someone brought Ronnie up it sent this relentless wave of tension through your body. Your shoulders slumped automatically whenever anyone said his name. You didn’t look at her, even though you could feel her stare.    

“I didn't get the chance to tell you that,” Melody continued. “You were sleeping when we got there. All I could really do was leave the flowers.”

“Thank you. They were nice.” 

When you got out of the hospital you’d taken the bouquet with you. The old vase they’d come in had been changed, along with potting and arrangement. They looked good sitting as a centerpiece on the coffee table in your living room. 

“Yeah. No problem.” 

That would have been the end of it. You could feel her weight shift on the cushion as if she were about to get up. Abandon whatever mission she’d willed for herself that mustered up enough courage to speak, and say those words you hadn't expected. You pulled in the scent of popcorn through your nostrils and exhaled through your mouth, then closed your eyes briefly before you sighed to stop her departure. 

“Listen Melody. I had some time to think. Think about, a lot. And, I don't want things to be awkward between us. Okay.”

Melody settled back down and you looked over at the moving line of happy moviegoers.

“I know all that stuff happened with Franklin, and honestly even though I still feel you totally disregarded the relationship by crossing that boundary. How I reacted wasn't called for.” 

You paused. You had to take a breath. You were still angry and somewhat annoyed, but you had your part in the aftermath. Owning up was the only way to call a truce to the unspoken tug of war. 

“All the cursing and blaming. That wasn't me. Or it shouldn't have been, even in the moment.” You brought your hands together in a fold. “Although I was dealing with all that stuff going on with my brother, I had the choice to react in a better way, and I didn't.” You pulled your legs up and crossed them. 

“You're right.”

Your head at Melody’s words.

“I absolutely did cross a boundary. I went on like things hadn’t changed. The worst part was that I didn’t take your feelings into consideration. You being his girl. I didn’t respect it. So, I’m sorry.”

With a short nod you looked at her. 

“Thank you.”

Melody sat back, resting her head on the wall. “I just. I really want things to go back like they were between us.” she smiled. “I’m telling you girl, no one can do that hot comb like you. You see it’s looking a lil’ rough right now.”

You let go of a light laugh that hit the air among the rest of the conversation and bustle that was going on in the lobby. “As much as I speak against hot combs, That would be the thing I'm really good at.” You shook your head. The irony always had a funny way of creeping in. You threw a glance at Melody’s hair. A simple blow dry, but you could tell no hot comb touched it. “I told you you wouldn’t even have that problem if you’d just join the afro gang. We're always looking for new members.” You and Leon were steady tryna recruit folk. You’d make two very dedicated Jehovah witnesses.

“I don’t even think mine is capable of doing that,” Melody said with a soft laugh, throwing a glance at yours. 

Despite being in a high ponytail, your hair remained a nice healthy mini afro. Bound but still mighty, and powerful enough to shut shit down if you at any point decided to unleash her and go full Black Power.  

“I honestly feel you and Leon got everybody beat.” 

You took some sort of pride in that being the case. “Maybe,” you smiled to yourself. “Maybe so.” 

Melody turned and extended a hand before you. Her face held an expression much like a girl getting something she'd desperately wanted in the same way a child would in a candy story, or being invited to play tetherball on the playground with a group of girls that never noticed that innate desire for belonging. “Friends again?” She declared. 

You looked at her and then her hand before you took it and exchanged a shake by way of a calling of troths. “Friends.” You ended with a smile similar to hers, and a bit of weight lifted. The awkwardness to, had also subsided. Your entire body became much more free of the tension it held even with the ever present thought of your brother. 

“Wassup, y'all ready ta’ do this?” 

Both you and Melody looked up. Franklin, Leon, and Kevin had returned. Kevin with his hands full. To large boxes of popcorn, a thing of nachos, some bag of candy you couldn't identify, and a large box of lemon heads. 

“Damn, y'all buy up the whole concession stand?” Melody asked and stood to her feet. Franklin and Leon weren't as bad as Kevin, but they had their hands full just the same.

“Mel, you know we had to buy supplies for two movies. I don't wanna get up and miss somethin'.”

You shook your head, got to your feet and put your hoodie back on. “Could have just bought two big boxes of popcorn to split between us. We could have shared. Leon gotta box, you, Franklin. Y'all, for real?” 

Kevin sucked in his teeth.“Shhhhhit. That thang woulda been gone in five minutes. You know them nigga’s greedy.” 

Leon threw you a look before stuffing his mouth full of popcorn. “Share? Hell naw. I don’t know why y’all actin’ like Kev don’t be lickin’ his fingers n’shit.” 

Franklin chuckled. “Right. Wit’ them damn lemon heads.”

Both you and Melody directed your attention to Kevin’s arms. Sure enough two mini boxes of Lemon Head candies nuzzled between the popcorn and larger candy bag. You smiled and shook your head, folding your arms to look at Kevin. Everyone did. You, Franklin, Leon and Melody were staring at him. 

Kevin stepped back, throwing gazes back and forth. “Oh, so it’s like that? That’s why, don’t nobody ask me for none then. I was gonna be generous, but hell, nevermind since ya’ll hatin’ on a nigga.” 

…

The laughter and jokes felt like old times as the five of you entered into the theater. Lucky to have spotted seats closer to the screen but still in the middle, the order set Kevin on the end, then Melody, Leon, Franklin and you at the other end. 

The previews had already begun playing by the time you got comfortable and lifted up from your slouch to raise up and throw some popcorn in Kevin's direction when he whined about his three boxes of Leon Heads. He threw some back, more than the handful you had, and Franklin stole his mini box, passing it discreetly to both you and Leon before he’d gotten caught when he turned to offer some to Melody. 

By the time you were in a debate about the next big movie to come out, the theater space had darkened and Trading Places had begun. 

Immediately engrossed in the movie, you laughed and gasped at all the right moments earnestly digging your hands for more popcorn to pass between Franklin and Leon.

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of pure bliss and enjoyment before the headache you’d thought you’d gotten rid of had come back full force, and you felt sick. The same kind of sickness you’d experienced the night at Cho’s, and the same headache you carried with you when Cissy brought you back to your house. 

There was Eddie Murphy. His character, thrown in a holding cell. Your mind had somehow replaced the face, just like you were watching up on that screen, the details Jerome expressed to Cissy. Words they thought you hadn't heard, now very much vivid and beating. How could you be so selfish? He’d been gone all of three days and you were in a movie theater laughing. Enjoying yourself, living life. Your eyes swelled up with regret and you looked down at the hoodie you wore. Ronnie’s hoodie. 

Miraculously your hand had found Franklin’s. He’d been so taken by the movie that he only noticed once you squeezed down. His eyes found you through the low light shining from the big screen. “Huh?” You heard him say through the hordes of laughter that filled up the space. 

You tried with all your might to avoid the shake in your voice, and force one final smile. “I need to go to the bathroom. Be back.” 

You watched him nod, as you stood to your feet and put the popcorn box on the ground with no intention of returning to it. You wasted no time, moving through the seated people as fast as humanly possible.

The rise and fall of your chest led you inside a stall to let the breath free you’d had held up trying to make it to seclusion. You sobbed, a kind that had been suppressed as much as possible in order not to be discovered by those leaving and entering the restroom. You would have preferred your own bathroom, where you could hear your own labored breathing and wheezing. Maybe one of your pillows could provide you some sort of comfort rather real or imagined, or at least been there to muffle your screams down. 

That’s where you should have been. Home. The regret you harbored for laughing and enjoying yourself poured out in short, choking bursts and sniffs. If you kept it up you would need more than your inhaler to calm it, and you'd be damned if you'd return to the hospital, willingly. You covered your face with your hands but tears found their way around the barrier and ran down your chin to drip and pool along your neck. You leaned on the stall that separated the other and quietly let the tears go. 

When you found you hated the position and the way your neck began to feel at such an awkward angle you stood up and wiped your eyes with the sleeves of the hoody. 

You could barely breathe, all congested with sorrow, but you blew your nose and rushed out the bathroom. The less opportunity you had to look at the mess that was now your puffy exterior, the better you’d be. 

As you debated on going back in and telling Franklin you were leaving, a familiar face caught your view. He was there with a woman and two kids, a girl and boy. A happy family enjoying a night out together. A family going about their lives without a care or concern for a grieving mother and daughter, or the young man who had all the potential in the world, only to be cheated and forgotten due to a corrupt system. 

Anger, one emotion not unrecognizable to you had provided the motivation it took to walk and confront such atrocities head on. 

Why? Why wasn’t he feeling just as much grief and despair? “Hey,” you shouted. 

From that point your descent had begun. Your own voice echoed in your ears loud and passionate with words that would cling to the atmosphere long after you left. Curse words, hurt words, and everything in-between. You even gained the attention of those in the lobby. An audience to your own personal demise. 

He always regarded you with your last name first, like he meant to stay professional at all times. It annoyed you. It made him come off, pretentious and dismissed his attempt at keeping things calm. 

“So tell me Shelby motherfucking Fleming. Why you not at home wit’ ya head hung low. My brother is dead because you didn't know what the hell you were doing. Or maybe you just didn't give a fuck. That it? Just another black man to be disposed of. Because I told you that taking that deal was gonna fuck us!” 

All the attention seemed more of an embarrassment for him than for you. In fact you hardly even noticed anybody else other than the bastard before you. 

“I beg your pardon. I understand your frustration. It was a terrible thing that happened. But I did what I could for Ronald. He had the best legal representation for his circumstance. No matter what offer I put on the table, he was going to do time. Now, if you don't mind. My family is here.”

Your blood boiled. The way he'd said it. Like he brushed it off as nothing. 

“Fuck you. Fuck you and your woods stalk lookin’ ass family. You think I actually give a fuck about all that when you destroyed mine? Y'all all played a part. You, that stupid ass judge!” 

You hadn't even realized the size your rage had grown. Before you could stop yourself you’d smacked the medium size popcorn box from Shelby's hand. Little golden puffs went flying. When you pushed him his wife called for security, hysterical. Another random man had come to break up the tension. He pulled you back trying as he might to block your path from Shelby. In all the commotion you hadn't even noticed Franklin. He'd inserted himself to push the man away from you. You tried to rush at Shelby again but Franklin blocked your path. He struggled with you until he took hold of your shoulder to shake you still. 

“Hey hey calm down, wassup, what happened?” 

You took a step back and threw him a look before you pushed his hands away. 

“I'm going home.” You murmured through a glaze of tears. The security, not far off and moving through the crowd of onlookers had you in hindsight, but you wouldn't wait. You changed direction and ran out the closest door with Franklin's voice calling out your name and begging you to stop. 

You didn't stop. You just kept on running. 

……………………………………..

Taglist: @fairy-cores-world  @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @hopelessdisasterr @slippinninque

[theinquisitxor]

2024 Anticipated Book Releases

I thought I had a lot of anticipated book releases for 2023, but 2024 is also proving to be a year of many books I'm excited about too. These are all the books I'm looking forward to in the first half of the year!

January:

-A Fragile Enchantment by Alison Saft: (Jan 2nd) rom-com fantasy about a dressmaker hired to make the royal wedding dress, but she starts to fall for the prince instead.

-Mislaid in Parts Half-Known Wayward Children 9) by Seanan (Jan 9th) The second to last book in this novella series, this one featuring dinosaurs!

-The Atlas Complex (The Atlas Series #3) by Olive Blake (Jan 9th) the final books to this magical dark academia trilogy, and I've been excited for this one since the ending of book 2.

-Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands (Emily Wilde 2) by Heather Fawcett (Jan 16th) The second book in this new historical fantasy series, in which Emily and Wendall go on a new adventure in the Austrian Alps. This is one of my most anticipated books of the year.

-City of Stardust by Georgia Summers (Jan 30th) this is a new fantasy debut that sounds similar to The Starless Sea and features a woman descending down into a subterranean world to try and break a generational curse.

-House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City 3) by SJM (Jan 30th) I've been enjoying SJM's crescent city books the most of all her series, and I'm looking forward to this one after how book 2 ended.

February

-The Warm Hands of Ghosts by Katherine Arden (Feb 13th) This is possibly my most anticipated book of the year, and Katherine Arden's newest adult release. A historical fiction (and a little magical realism?) set in Europe during WW1 following a combat nurse trying to find her (presumably) dead brother.

-The Book of Doors by Gareth Brown (Feb 13th) A debut magical realism fantasy set in NYC with books, bookstores, and a mystery book. I've heard many good early reviews of this one.

-What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher (Feb 13th) This is a follow up novella to What Moves the Dead following Alex Easton in a new horror adventure. This one has such a cool cover.

-The Briar Book of the Dead by AG Slatter (Feb 13th) A coven of witches keeps a town and the border between realms safe.

March

-A Dark and Drowning Tide by Allison Saft (March 5th) I'm very excited to get two new Allison Saft books in 1 year. This is a dark academia fantasy about two rival scholars trying to figure out who killed their mentor. Sapphic romance too I believe.

-The Prisoner's Throne by Holly Black (March 5th) This is the conclusion to The Stolen Heir, and I'm looking forward to the seeing more of the characters from the original series make an appearance in this one.

-The Woods All Black by Lee Mandelo (March 19th) This is a spooky queer horror novella set in 1920s Appalachia. Small town religiosity and something sinister creeping in the woods? This just sounds like a novella I'd enjoy.

-Song of the Huntress by Lucy Holland (March 21st) A new book from Lucy Holland, also set in magical ancient Briton. A warrior queen falls into trouble and teams up with the Wild Hunt to save her kingdom. Sapphic/queer romance.

-The Hedewitch of Fox Hall by Anna Bright (March 24th) a fantasy romance book set in medieval Wales as a hedge witch and prince team up to help prevent magic from fading away. The cover of this book is so beautiful!

April

-The Familiar by Leigh Barduo (April 9th) I don't really know much about this one, other than it is a new adult novel by Leigh Bardugo set in 1400s Spain. Also one of my most anticipated releases of the year.

-Song of Six Realms by Judy Lin (April 23rd) A young adult fantasy about a musician who goes to the Duke of Dreams's realm and must help stop a disaster.

June

-Running Close to the Wind by Alexandra Rowland (June 13th) A new high seas fantasy that was directly inspired by OFMD and Terry Pratchett. This is very queer and seems like it's going to be a lot of fun.

-Foul Days by Genovena Dimova (June 25th) A slavic fantasy story about a witch who has to team up with a detective as she is being hunted by her ex, the Tsar of Monsters. I've heard some very good early reviews of this book too.

-Children of Anguish and Anarchy (Children of Blood and Bone 3) by Tomi Adeyemi (June 25th) I honestly don't know if I'm going to read this anytime soon, but I've been waiting for this final book for almost 4 years now, so I just want to see how the series ends.

I think that's it for now! Release dates tend to change, and I'm sure I will be adding or editing this list as the new year starts. I'd love to hear of any new releases you are excited for!

Second half of 2024/To be determined:

A Sorceress Comes to Call by T Kingfisher (August)

The Mercy of Gods by James SA Corey (August)

The Whisper Between Worlds by Amanda Foody (TBD)

Lady Macbeth by Ava Reid (TBD)

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

🔆anon

— —

Tw: Weapons and blood

—

Suna: We made it!

Suna and Leona finally made it away from that bird brain. Finally they got time to have fun and play. And bonus, the distraction was fun too.

No castle walls, no nothing to get in their way. And why didn’t anyone tell Suna about how freeing it all felt? About how nice the air felt?

Leona (8): If we get in trouble I’m dumping it on you. Same if anything dangerous happens.

Suna: (6): I’m used to being in trouble. And danger? I walk on the wild side. I laugh in the face of danger.

Leona: Oh really?

Suna: Of course I do. Ha. Ha. Ha!

Almost as soon as the last ‘ha’ left Suna’s mouth, real laughing started behind them. Multiple people making a melody that didn’t seem to have the best intentions.

Three cloaked figures stepped out from nearby shadows.

Cloaked figure 1: I bet you do little prince. And you know, I have to thank you. You made our job far easier.

Cloaked figure 2: That’s exactly what I was thinking. Same money, but half the work.

With each word, the group moved closer. Suna should have moved. He wanted to get away. But he couldn’t. His body wasn’t listening as if it became stone.

Leona, though, didn’t seem to have that problem, but his body betrayed him in another way. He moved to stand in front of Suna, but his body wasn’t listening trembling.

Leona: What do you want!?

Cloaked figure 3: Aww, the cub wants to be a hero. *pulls out a knife* We want you to come with us. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.

Leona: We’re going home.

Figure 3: *shrugs* Suit yourself.

Before either kid can react, the figure lunges for Leona, making no attempt to be careful with the shiny blade. Leona tries to dodge, but he isn’t fast enough, and the struggling only earns him flowing red marks, especially one over his eye.

Leona: RUN!

That must have be some spell that unlocked Suna’s body as he manages to dodge right as another figure attempts to grab him. He turns on his heel and runs as fast as he can. He doesn’t care the direction. He doesn’t care how far he goes. He’s not staying here.

Figure 3: Get the runt!

Suna hears footsteps behind him. He can’t tell how many there are, but they sound close. Too close. So he just kept running.

And running.

And running.

And running.

Soon the footsteps started to fade until he couldn’t hear them, but maybe that was just his heartbeat blocking the noise. Still, hearing them or not, he kept running.

He ran for what felt like hours, until he came across a forest. It was odd. It didn’t look like anything that should be in the Savana. It seemed far closer to what he’s seen in pictures for other countries. It was out of place, but it was a good spot.

He was smaller so could move through it far easier and he could hide better too. He also didn’t know how far behind him the people actually were, so without stopping he turned his direction right into the forest only to run deeper and deeper.

— —

(Based on the elephant graveyard scene! Neither of them are Simba, but Cheka’s not going through it.)

Babies nooooooo!

[iviarellereads]

The Shadow Rising, Chapter 17 - Deceptions

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Harp icon) In which, hi again, bye forever.

PERSPECTIVE: Thom is gleeman-ing to raise spirits after the Trolloc attack, and planting rumours about the High Lords possibly plotting against Rand. He thinks about how he's really starting to feel his age, especially with his limp, as he walks into his room... to find Moiraine going through the papers on his table, as if she has every right to be there. Thom thinks she's beautiful and graceful, and she laughs at his quips, but calls himself an old fool and too tired to think straight.

He's so tired he doesn't even remember if he left anything incriminating anywhere. They exchange pleasantries, and Moiraine touches Thom's knee. He feels a tingle, and she says she wishes a good healer had been nearby when it happened. Thom says a dozen may not have been enough, given a Fade did it. Moiraine says she knows, and Thom wonders how much else she knows. He notices the injury feels a little better than it did before, and gets grumpy that he didn't even ask her to look at it, wondering what she's after.

Mo brings up a High Lord's death, and another's rapid illness, and he realizes she knows he's been sowing plots, playing the Game of Houses. Moiraine adds that it seems the two led the faction that would have tried to kill Rand. Thom plays like he's just a simple gleeman, and Moiraine brings up that he was the Court Bard at Caemlyn for a time, and Morgase's lover after Taringail Damodred's death. She knows that Taringail had been planning for Morgase to die, and for himself to ascend as Andor's first king.(1) She says the Thomdril Merrilin she's heard tales of could play the Game of Houses in his sleep, saying it's a shame such a man calls himself a simple gleeman, and such arrogance to keep the same name.

Thom counters that, speaking of names, it's remarkable how much you can learn about a person from one. Take Moiraine Damodred, of the House Damodred in Cairhien. Taringail's youngest half-sister, the late King Laman's niece. And, Aes Sedai aiding the Dragon Reborn since before she could have known who he was. News of such things could shake the world, maybe it's best that a simple gleeman stays tucked away in servants' quarters.

Mo says she doesn't use her house name because the Damodreds had a bad rep before Laman started the Aiel War, with good reason. Thom, annoyed he can't ruffle her feathers, asks right out what she wants. Moiraine says Nyn and El leave for Tanchico today, a very dangerous city. Thom's knowledge might keep them alive.

Thom interprets this as wanting to separate him from Rand, and says he's too old for that sort of thing, he's thinking of taking up farming. Moiraine says a quiet life might actually kill Thom, sounding amused. But, she can guarantee, under the First Oath, that Tanchico will not kill him.

He frowns at her, wondering how she can possibly know that.(2) He asks why he should go to Tanchico, and Moiraine says he could protect Morgase's daughter. Thom says he hardly knew her when he left Caemlyn, so Moiraine breaks out her trick card: she knows about his nephew, Owyn. The Red Ajah should have brought him to the Tower for the process of gentling, but they did it in situ and left him to die. On purpose. Thom asks why she's telling him this, and she says she wouldn't have, if he'd agreed earlier. If he goes to Tanchico, next time they meet she can give him the names of the Red sisters who did the deed, and the one who gave them their orders.(3) And they will meet again, he will survive Tarabon.

Thom asks her to leave, and she says she will prove to him that not all Aes Sedai are like the ones who did this. He asks her again, and she leaves. He sinks to his knees, and thinks it all through, cursing Moiraine for backing him into such a corner.

PERSPECTIVE: Min has been taken under the wing of the Mistress of the Kitchens, Laras, and taken up embroidery as an excuse to sit in one place and watch people for long periods of time, though she’s no good at it.

Gawyn and Galad sneak up on her, but only Gawyn knows her, because of their prior encounter. Galad doesn't recognize her at all, with the longer hair in curls, the dress, and all the makeup. Gawyn asks her to read a passage from a book and tell Galad that it's nonsense. It's a book about the Way of the Light, like a Whitecloak manifesto. Min pretends to not understand it, and comments she means to read books, but her hair takes hours to get right, don't you like it?

Gawyn says it can't be good if the Whitecloaks follow it, and Galad says the author was a great man, even if the Children of the Light have been excessive sometimes since their founding. Min says she can't imagine a Whitecloak dancing, and the Aes Sedai don't seem to care for it either, does Gawyn think there's much chance of a dance here? Gawyn is fuming with frustration, but Galad offers to escort her to a dance in the city, if he hears of a suitable one, and smiles at Min.(4)

Gawyn changes the subject and says he sees the Amyrlin speaking to Min every day, has she mentioned his sister or Egg? Min says the Amyrlin checks on her often, to see if she's closer to a decision. Did he say his sister? No, she's never mentioned the Daughter-Heir. Who was the other name? Galad says they shouldn't bother ~Mistress Elmindreda~ with all that.

Min misses the rest of what he says because she's spotted Logain, wandering aimlessly through a garden, with an Accepted as his companion (mostly to stop him from killing himself or escaping) and sees a flaring halo around his head, gold and blue. It means glory and power, but his glory should be behind him, in his false Dragon days.(5)

Gawyn pities Logain, Galad can't because of the thousands of people who died under or because of him. Min excuses herself abruptly, but Gawyn follows her, offering to carry her basket. She tells him off for mentioning El and Egg in front of Galad, Elmindreda doesn't know or care about them. Gawyn's just worried, especially with another false Dragon in Tear. Min proposes that he might not be false this time, but Gawyn will believe it when he sees it.

Min tells Gawyn to trust the Amyrlin, and he says fine, but did you know Galad's been drinking in taverns with Whitecloaks? Not more than a cup or two, but drinking and talking. Eamon Valda himself gave that book to Galad.

Gawyn asks Min to tell him if she learns anything about El or Egg, and she says she will, but qualifies it in her thoughts: she will if she can, if it's safe for them. She wishes she could go back to Rand. She leaves Gawyn and makes her way to the Amyrlin's study. The new vision of Logain is too important to wait, though they're supposed to be careful about meeting.

Siuan takes the news in stride, as much as one can. Starvation in Cairhien, a sister missing in Tarabon, Trolloc raids in the Borderlands again, someone calling himself the Prophet stirring up riots in Ghealdan. War in Arad Doman has stopped trade from Saldaea, causing further unrest in Maradon.

Siuan asks why Min rushed up here, and Min says, because nothing she's seen since that first day she arrived has been important at all. She feels useless. Siuan says one day Min's visions will draw her a map to the Black Ajah, and pay more than enough for their passage.

Min asks Siuan to tell the princes something closer to the truth than the farm story. Siuan asks if she should change her story after all this time. Min says Siuan doesn't even know if they're in trouble, does she? Siuan suggests Min assume that Rand is fine until they hear otherwise.

Some messages arrive, and Leane reads one. Siuan expects more news of Trollocs, but almost as bad, Mazrim Taim has escaped, and two sisters are dead. They make arrangements to hunt him back down and gentle him on the spot. Siuan reads the other message, and it's news of Rand: he holds Callandor. Now she can convene the Hall of the Tower and announce that the Dragon has truly been reborn, and the Tower must support and guide him. She can finally work openly.

PERSPECTIVE: Sahra Covenry, the novice who had escorted Min to the Amyrlin's study. She's working at a farm, and thinks it's so unfair, she didn't do anything.

An unnamed Aes Sedai approaches Sahra and demands to know everything she heard or saw about Elmindreda.

“But I heard nothing, Aes Sedai. The Keeper sent me away as soon as—” Pain racked her, digging her toes into the dirt, arching her back; the spasm lasted only moments, but it seemed eternal. Struggling for breath, she realized her cheek was pressed to the ground, and her still trembling fingers dug into the soil. She did not remember falling. She could see Mistress Elward’s laundry basket lying on its side near the stone farmhouse, damp linens spilled out in a heap. Dazed, she thought that that was odd; Moria Elward would never leave her washing lying like that. “Everything, girl,” the Aes Sedai said coldly. She was standing over Sahra now, making no move to help her. She had hurt her; it was not supposed to be that way. “Every person this Elmindreda spoke to, every word she said, every nuance and expression.” “She spoke to Lord Gawyn, Aes Sedai,” Sahra sobbed into the earth. “That is all I know, Aes Sedai. All.” She began to weep in earnest, sure that was not enough to satisfy this woman. She was right. She did not stop screaming for a long time, and when the Aes Sedai left there was not a sound around the farmhouse except for the chickens, not even breathing.(6)

=====

(1) And she knows that Thom killed her pain in the ass of a brother, just as he killed the High Lords. (2) Just how does Moiraine know that Thom will survive going to Tarabon, so firmly that she can say it plainly, bound by the First Oath, to never speak any word that is untrue? And why is she so insistent on proving to Thom that hashtag Not All Aes Sedai? (Those of you with shipper goggles might also remember another odd comment of hers recently about the face of her husband. They've only interacted about three times, but if the rest of this conversation didn't read like flirting in political jargon, I dunno what to tell ya.) (3) This is ALSO the first time we've heard that the Aes Sedai, and the Red Ajah in particular, have done anything wrong with regard to handling men who can channel. Funny that Moiraine says they shouldn't have been allowed to do what they did, when her bestest friend in the world orders similar actions in the same chapter. (Siuan doesn't suggest leaving Taim to his followers or home village, but still.) (4) Min isn't very good at playing an airhead, but then, people don't expect much of airheads, so she gets by. Poor girl still feels drawn back to Rand, though. Sorry, he's headed into the Aiel Waste, you won't see him for a while yet, even if Siuan let you go. (5) What could that mean? Well, let's think: why would Logain continue to appear in the story past the first book? This is RJ's way of reminding us that Logain exists, and more, he's still got some part to play. (6) And poor Sahra didn't deserve that ending, but here we are. Who do you think that Aes Sedai might have been?

[apocalypticavolition]

Wheel of Time Season 2 Episodes 1 - 3 Thoughts

In my reread - which I won't be doing today, or probably any day that a show episode comes out in the immediate future - this is the part where I'd have some sort of snark warning about spoilers to shoo away the viewers who might not have blocked the relevant tags for some reason. This is about the show, but I will be discussing a few things that will be spoilers to show-watchers only - and if you haven't caught up at all then obviously I'll be spoiling the show.

After seeing Apple TV's Foundation blossom into this beautiful and entertaining show that had almost nothing to do with its source material, I figured I could come to Wheel of Time's second season with an open mind. And hey, episode 1 of the show made me think that we were over the rough part. Yeah, I had to meet its plot changes in the middle, but if I was willing to do that, the show seemed to promise that I would be rewarded. After the three episodes released so far, I'm not quite sure. I want to love the show, but I'm not a show lover.

And yeah, it starts with the opening. Jordan's world is one in which evil doesn't prosper and makes no illusions about being an alternate system of morality that good guys just besmirch because they're meanie pants. Having a little girl pet a rape-and-murder machine that's purring at the prospect of human contact isn't a great start for me, and frankly there's just something about Ishamael in this scene that feels like Nandor from What We Do in the Shadows, which isn't a worthwhile comparison.

Nor does the new show intro excite me. The previous season's over-focus on the Aes Sedai felt to me like a mistake overall but the concept of the opening sequence was still strong. I wanted to see it change and evolve over the course of the eight seasons, but now we're just given a few seconds of a snake devouring itself. It's a major step backwards.

But these are quibbles. I know they're quibbles. If they were the biggest kinds of complaints I had against the show I'd move on. Things get a lot stronger from there, showing us some great TV! Let's break it down:

Moiraine and Lan: Moiraine is not taking being shielded well. This is a legit reaction. Her misery is clear and the bath scene is a great contrast. Lan's attitude isn't much better. It's well-acted, well-set, and seeing changes like Verin being folded into Vandene is good! Like I said, I get that it's TV, I get that there have to be changes, and this little change works. Heck, Bayle Domon showing up works. He's fun, Moiraine fucking him over is fun, it's good TV. It's a little frustrating that we still don't know what the poem is (I mean, I know as a reader but still), but that's all in good fun.

But I do have problems with the division forming between Lan and Moiraine. Not that it's happening at all, under the circumstances it makes perfect sense. However, the characters and narratives taking the stance of, "Moiraine is suffering trauma so she's allowed to be as cold to her best friend of twenty years as possible and he just has to take it" does not work for me at all.

Then there's the Fade sequence. In the next episode, Lan will apologize for not sensing the Shadowspawn coming, which raises the question - why didn't Moiraine sense them coming? She's shielded, not severed. Why did the first Fade go down so easily? Why is Lan so terrible at fighting Fades when he spent his whole life training to do so? At least Verin saves the day. Really, Verin is awesome in general and I have no complaints, she's everything she should be for this adaptation.

And then comes the double dose of cruelty. First we get a summary of how Lan and Moiraine met, based on the New Spring novel, but we leave out the coolest part, which frankly only does Moiraine dirty. Though, they do Lan dirty too by making the sexual assault he suffered something to laugh about as a funny cultural affectation instead of the rape that it clearly was.

And then things go downhill. Book Moiraine might have been cruel in setting up the transfer of her bond to Lan, but she didn't make it happen right away and she didn't explicitly tell Lan she never thought of him as an equal. Her behavior is abhorrent and unheroic and while Moiraine's always been on the utilitarian side of things, this is just more than I'm willing to deal with. It also only makes Alanna feel skeevier as a character, which is impressive considering all the rest of the stuff she pulls. And that's it. They're gone - and frankly, for show Moiraine all I can say is "good riddance".

Wondergirls: Egwene is overall good, Nynaeve starts well enough. I don't really like Nynaeve's getting to skip the novice phase taken away from her - I feel that Rafe's love of Egwene consistently tears down the characters around her and now that she's chiding Nynaeve that she should be happy I feel very vindicated in this belief - but I can live with it. Nynaeve choosing to suffer rather than address her block is good. The Aes Sedai politicking about how to train Nynaeve and who should be her mentor is great! Egwene's jealousy is in-character.

Nynaeve training with Alanna's Warders though, while impressive, feels like mostly an excuse to give those two a few extra lines. And Alanna feels genuinely skeevy in this incarnation; I had thought her advice to Egwene was just inappropriate metaphor until the characters clarified, and at that point I'm just wondering why Alanna is supposed to be a positive representation of polyamory if she's clearly trying to groom Egwene on the side. Like, at least Liandrin being a bad mentor and person overall is clear from her interactions with Nynaeve. Of course, much less about Liandrin is clear in general. She steals medicine as if an Aes Sedai wouldn't be able to obtain such things without question)

And then we meet Elayne. Book Elayne is a sweetheart, only stuck-up in the most basic of ways (taught to walk around with her nose in the air). Show Elayne makes several faux pas and doesn't seem to present much reason for Egwene to want to be her friend. "I haven't seen a soul", she says, surrounded by servants. She says she spent six summers in Tar Valon but her attitude screams six summers in Seandar. Sheriam at least seems like she's gonna beat some sense into her, but I shouldn't be rooting for that outcome, should I?

Meanwhile, Nynaeve follows Liandrin out of the tower and discovers her dark secret, a son dying of old age. At first my associate and I thought it was all going to be some kind of ploy to impress Nynaeve and influence her ajah choice, but it's all legit. I thought that Liandrin having a son was fine, but my friend is less convinced and there's something to be said for that. Liandrin's attitude doesn't scream, "son she's outliving", and it adds to the sense of incoherence to her character.

Elayne just barely manages to recover as a character during the drinking sequence when she chews Egwene out, which also sets her up nicely for her bullshit. Not sure what I think about the convenient drama of Nynaeve overhearing Egwene bitching about her, but at least it kind of goes places. It helps explain why Nynaeve's so vehement about the testing, anyway.

Her testing is... where things start really going downhill. The beginning is fine (though the whole "attacked by bandits" thing doesn't work for me at all for the Two Rivers - not in the last season, not in this one), and the middle is a good adaptation, but then we hit the end. The fake out's good, but then... Ugh. In the books, Nynaeve wills the portal back, but that's not what happens here. Further, Liandrin's motivations remain incoherent: if she's a Darkfriend working to bring about these peoples' downfall, Nynaeve's death (a huge loss for the Light) shouldn't be something she's this upset about. Like yeah, corrupting her would be more fun, but a win's a win. But the Shadow doesn't want wins in this episode. It wants to lose as hard as it can.

Sheriam is also a bit odd here but since she may not know Liandrin is Black I can buy her behavior as being generally shitty while covering for herself. I mean, "your grief is your own" is so unnecessarily cruel that it's clear that she's Black. That said, not sure why she's discussing arches with the girls when my impression is that the test was supposed to be something of a secret until the novice was ready to advance. Nor do I think Elayne is done any favors with her absolutely hollow condolences - Sheriam was more believable as a sympathetic ear.

Egwene confronts Liandrin, which leads us to yet another situation where somebody on the Shadow could easily eliminate one of the five ta'veren but absolutely refuses to do so because... it wouldn't be sporting? She then tries to save Nynaeve while Elayne talks her out of it, but makes absolutely no difference whatsoever (ah well, at least she isn't personally responsible for bringing Nynaeve back). Then Nynaeve... does come back. For no apparent reason. Apparently every other woman who entered this segment just killed themselves after missing the first door out. At least book Nynaeve forces the arch to reappear - show Nynaeve only forces the scenario to stop being scary and the arch shows up anyway.

Perrin: I thought that Marcus was the weakest actor last season, and while he's grown quite a good deal, it also feels like he's been given the least to work with. He's with mostly new characters bar Loial, who doesn't get the love and attention he deserves. Everyone in his sequence exists to push him along, and he doesn't have much going on just yet as he's reacting to what goes down. I do like how they're representing his power, and again combining Elyas and Hurin is the right sort of choice for TV, but I feel like Perrin was meant to be bouncing off of at least Mat at this point. His writing is very on the nose when he and the Shienarians are burying the Darkfriends, it feels very much like we're just being told what he feels instead of being shown it.

But hey, while the woman in the house horror sequence was not remotely something Perrin went through, and it was pretty changed, I honestly didn't expect it to show up at all, so I'm calling that a win for him. It's well-acted too, he doesn't have too much dialogue telling us how he feels so it works. That said, his place in the world gets a lot less certain as we go on - I assumed he was in the east like the books, but he seems to have crossed thousands of miles to go west considering what happens. Why are the Seanchan here? Why is Perrin where they are? This isn't a coincidence, it's blatantly forced.

Also sorry not sorry but the damane outfit isn't dehumanizing like it should be, it's just dumb. The damane in Perrin's arc is, as far as I'm concerned, named Little Miss Binky. Speaking of LMB, it bothers me a bit that she can sense all these channeler women when in the books the testing required the use of the a'dam. This is a random-ass village, there shouldn't be two sparkers. And Uno should not be fucking dead and no amount of Suroth's nail batons is going to make it okay for me (okay actually there is an amount but the season isn't going to run that long so same thing).

We end Perrin's arc in these three episodes with him waking up in a carriage with Ishamael, being stabbed to death as part of the Shadow's plans to bring about-- No wait, that would be competent. Instead, Ishamael is super interested in Perrin's character development (why bro?) and lets Perrin escape with Elyas while the two ditch Loial (unforgivable).

Mat and Min: Being imprisoned at this point works based on where the story ended up, but Liandrin is just kind of a cipher throughout his story. She's clearly relishing the opportunity to be evil editing him out of the letters she reads, but this is about as evil as she gets beyond the wrongful imprisonment. Why does she give him cakes in the next episode? Why is he being kept alive for months on end? There's no clear motivation for her character - if she's being a villain, she should have offed him long ago. If she's following Tower procedure in some fashion, it should be clearer.

Mat manages to make contact with Min - no one noticed his efforts, which is fine, but it stretches credulity that none of Min's captors notice that her wall is suddenly damaged after this. They're great friends and I love this for what it is, or rather what it seems to be. It really helps their relationship - though not her characterization - that he's not interested in having her read his future. Shame, considering what she sees.

After some more time, Nynaeve's apparent death prompts Liandrin to set Mat free. He almost goes to help Egwene, but then decides to ditch her because fuck Mat's character, amirite? One actor ditched us so all Mats have to be shitty now even when it's a central facet of who he should be. Then he doubles back to Min - why is he doing things in this order, this is the least logical order - but it turns out that this whole thing is staged by Liandrin and that Min is working with her. What the actual fuck?

Rand: I'm not loving how little attention he gets in the first episode, but whatever. The main problem is that his motivations are obscured to us for such a long period, and we aren't really given a clue as to how he figured out this was an option in the first place. At first I simply thought it was weird that he'd go to Cairhien when he knows he's a time bomb and that being a nurse-type made sense considering his overall sense of altruism.

Really, most of the hospital stuff works in isolation. The soldier suffering from PTSD is a nice touch and it helps build up the Rand as Aiel foreshadowing that the show hasn't had much time to get to yet. I don't like that Rand is cheating on Lan with another teacher but TV shows I guess.

Then we jump into a darker Rand. He stalks the asshole orderly and assaults him, in part with the power (though this seems to be unwilling). I thought this might be madness coming on early, but the truth isn't much better. Of course, before we find it out we get to see Rand hook up with Lanfear. Book Rand was clearly compelled and overwhelmed by a hottie being interested in him, but this atmosphere is gone here as well. Rand took one look at the slippery slope and said, "Watch how fast I can get to the bottom!"

And meanwhile, Lanfear is bizarrely self-aware! "I pretend you're Lews Therin," she all but says. "Go ahead and think of other women while you're having sex with me, your crazy and obsessive stalker!" The Forsaken are cartoonishly evil people because only someone cartoonishly evil would sign up to work under Satan. They shouldn't try to argue that they're actually good guys and they shouldn't have healthy standards in their romantic relationships!

So Rand's secret plan was to get close to Logain, which just... Why is he here? He's a war criminal who had an army of loyal fanatics! Even with the severing, he's way too much of a risk to toss amid the general populace for exactly the reason we see: a young man who can channel goes to him to learn how to carry on his traditions! Logain being Rand's teacher might be a good way of combining book characters, and he's certainly an awesome actor, but there's not enough of this stuff.

Rand learns more about the hunt being called, which is just going to raise further questions. I will note "Queen of Illian" and thus have to ask: have they relocated Berelain in this show? Have they just gender-flipped the king? These books don't need gender flips like they seem to like doing with her and Farstrider.

Then Rand and Lanfear end up at a fancy party. There's no clear explanation for how they got in, nor why the royals would be confused about Rand and Lanfear's identities. She lives at the Foregate, people! He's renting a room! The foreign prince thing doesn't work in this context! Then Rand gets an awkwardly designed infodump about the cruelty of the royalty and the reveal that the Hunt is a fake. Presumably the whole thing is supposed to be a fake that isn't happening outside of Cairhien, but that's not actually clear - and after a long sequence of Rand's arc being well-written if objectionable for his hunting down a man and beating him half (?) to death to steal is job, it's just a low note.

But hey, we get to see Logain be psycho and Lanfear be psycho, so that's pretty fun. Not really sure where Logain's gotten the impression he's the descendant of a man that is most famous for having killed his entire family, but that's crazy for you I guess. Rand also burns down the inn, an incident which everyone treats as no big deal despite the general flammability of everything in the vicinity.

Closing Thoughts: The TL;DR of all of this is, "Just as I got comfy with it, it got weird." Rand is darker than he should be at this point, Mat continues to lack the loyalty that defines him, Moiraine is awful to Lan in ways that the narrative gives no hint it disagrees with and past and future sexual assault is on the table for him, Nynaeve loses the behavior that justifies her being special and just survives by fiat, Elayne is way too awkward and rude, and the Darkfriends pass up every opportunity to eliminate or properly capture Mat, Perrin, Egwene, and Nynaeve, all of whom should be high priority targets. This season started strongly and I hope it can recover from these hiccups, but I'm worried that little details will continue to fail to add up like this.

[therecordchanger62279]

MY LIFE IN 10 SONGS

Writing an autobiography is something I always thought of doing, but I’d never see it published because my life is only interesting to me. I would also be reluctant to “name names” or to reveal too much of my personal life to a broader public. Even my friends don’t really know me at all. They all have an idea of who I used to be when they met me, and spent time around me. But now I live a very insulated existence, and none of those I consider true friends (and the list is now very, very short) have even seen me in the past decade, or longer. I have changed in ways they could never begin to imagine or to understand. I have experienced life-changing events, some of them traumatic, of which they are completely unaware because they simply aren’t interested. They never ask about me, never ask how I’m doing. You hear of people dying sometimes in their homes, and their bodies aren’t discovered for weeks or even months. If my wife passes before I do, I’m a candidate for that kind of ending.

But the challenge of putting a life on paper, and trying to make sense of it is something most writers aspire to. So, I started thinking that I might let others do the work for me, and I drew up a list of ten songs that would tell the story of my life as I see it, but in words that are not mine.

Each of the ten songs is designed to convey a sketch of my life as I lived it, and the list as a whole works as point-to-point navigation from the beginning to the end. I’ll list the title, artist, and a brief comment or two that offers some perspective. They are listed chronologically.

   1. Born Under a Bad Sign – Albert King. The first event of my life after birth was that I was put up for adoption. I spent the first two months of my life in an orphanage.

   2. Pleasant Valley Sunday – The Monkees. I was adopted by a middle-class couple. My name was changed, and I was gifted with a mostly safe, and quiet life in the suburbs. The images in this song are very familiar to me.

   3. I Am a Town – Mary-Chapin Carpenter. Lyrically, this is an autobiography of a town. But it is also where I grew up, and what I saw when we travelled. Those images defined, and shaped me through the early years of my life.

   4. I Should’ve Been a Cowboy – Toby Keith. In my earliest days, I wanted to be nothing more than a cowboy, living a simple life, unafraid of a hard day’s labor as long as it provided me with some sense of security, and fed me spiritually. There wasn’t much call for cowboys by the time I had to choose. As it turned out, my original instincts were correct. If only I could’ve been a cowboy, maybe my life would have been what I hoped.

   5. Hellhound on My Trail – Robert Johnson. My working years were gradually overwhelmed by a sense that there was, and always had been a shadow following me, and no matter what I did, no real lasting good would ever come to me.

   6. Is That All There Is? – Peggy Lee. Eventually, the shadow caught up with me, and rather than fight, I surrendered, and made my peace with it. Peggy Lee posed the question. The answer I got was, “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

   7. No One To Run With – Allman Brothers Band. As the places faded into memory, the people all began to drift away, too.

   8. Alone Again (Naturally) – Gilbert O’Sullivan. A lot of people found this song self-pitying when it was released. The rest of us understood it. All the events, and the people who populate a life, fall away in the end, and we, each of us, dies alone. And contained in the song, too, something that most people missed, was the best reason for not committing suicide – nobody would care anyway.

   9. Another Tricky Day – The Who. So, you go on living out the days, one after another. The best you can do is hang on to something to try and survive. I’ll hang on to the music.

 10. High Hopes – Pink Floyd. A final summation of a life lived.