#and in the very same set it describes her love he desires SO badly - above all else - as 'fickle as the weather' (chest)

[v-iv-rusty]

as much as I never post about it I kind of genuinely am fascinated by the evil cheese grater man

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Good as Gold pt.13

[part twelve] | [part fourteen] [prostitute!jaskier masterpost]

For @valdomarx because this chapter wouldn’t exist without you 😘

It’s late. Late enough that he’s considering turning in for the night, but there’s a verse in his head that just won’t let him be. Not, at least, until he’s written it down. So instead of lying down and trying to sleep, he plops himself down on the edge of the bed and crosses his legs, notebook propped up on his knees.

It feels good to be writing again after so long. Feels like years since he’s been properly inspired to do anything and the poetry - if it can be called that - that he’s produced in the meantime is severely lacking. Uninspired. But now it just seems to flow through him like it used to, which becomes a problem when he’s supposed to be focused on the person above him and all he can think of is how badly he wants to roll out of bed and write down this one line before he forgets it. Or whether spring or winter provides a better metaphor for love. For the first time in a long time, Jaskier finds himself thankful that his customers pay little attention to him once they’ve got him naked.

Tonight, the piece he’s working on is happier than usual; the excitement of new love, the utter thrill of reciprocation. Jaskier’s mind is working faster than his hand can keep up with. He jots his thoughts down in note form, just descriptive enough to remember it correctly for later because there’s so much rolling around in his brain that he’s liable to forget if he doesn’t get the ideas out. Though, as frustrating as it is not to be able to get all his thoughts down before there are more crowding for attention, he wouldn’t give it up. Inspiration is a fickle beast and one not to be taken for granted.

There’s a knock on the door, right as he’s in the middle of deciphering a quite fitting metaphor and it startles him, causing him to blotch the page he’s writing on. Jaskier pauses; he never sees customers this late, Lorelei usually refuses to let anyone through the doors past dusk - unless it’s Geralt. He smiles to himself at the thought of the Witcher and sets his book down, tucking his quill between the pages to keep his spot for later. He’s sure the unexpected guest is Anise, she frequently brings wine to his room after hours and they’ll spend hours talking about their days.

Jaskier rises to his feet, setting the book on the table next to the bed. He’ll return to it later and hopefully, his inspiration won’t have flitted off into the night. He’d like to decline the offer of wine and company, but he’s already turned Anise down once this month because Geralt showed up and Jaskier could hardly turn him away. He still tells himself that it’s because he has loyal customers and they deserve the same from him, but it’s a different feeling when Geralt turns up at his door. One he doesn’t risk naming.

“One moment,” he calls, tugging his robe closed to tie it around his waist. There’s a beat of silence and Jaskier crosses to the dresser to put away the scraps of paper that remain from his earlier attempts at writing. It’s too personal to be left unattended, even if it’s only Anise. Especially if it’s her. So he pulls the drawer open to tuck it away, but then the door creaks open behind him. He turns to look, a mock accusation on the tip of his tongue, but it dies when he finds Geralt in the open doorway, smiling dopily at him and staring across the room. Jaskier’s heart clenches and he pushes the drawer shut again before crossing the room. Geralt tracks him as he gets closer, eyes flicking up to Jaskier’s as he approaches.

“Hello, darling. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? It’s much later than you usually visit.” Late enough that he’s surprised anyone would let him in, but he doesn’t say that.

“Was nearby.” Geralt stumbles as he comes closer, that stupid lopsided smile still in place. Jaskier frowns at his misstep, but can’t help but return the smile.

“Ah. Well, give me just a moment, alright?” He closes the door behind him and turns back toward the dresser. He can feel Geralt’s eyes on him the whole way. Then the sound of footsteps coming toward him and he smiles to himself.

He hears something crash behind him and then warm hands settle on his hips, slipping the robe up to his waist. Jaskier ducks his head, giving up any pretense of putting things away, as Geralt’s fingers slip to the ties on the back of his trousers. It’s only Geralt. Geralt would never invade his privacy by reading something he shouldn’t. Geralt toys with the ties, tugging lightly and winding the silk around his fingers, but makes no attempt to get them undone. He likes the feel of it, Jaskier assumes; Geralt is very particular about fabrics and scents and the ties are soft.

Geralt says nothing, but he runs his hands down Jaskier’s thighs, squeezes softly, cups his ass and squeezes that too. He’s clearly eager, pressing against him and touching him like he’s afraid he’ll disappear. And Jaskier can feel how badly he wants it, but Geralt makes no attempt to undress him or move past simply touching him. Jaskier huffs softly, tipping his head back against Geralt’s shoulder.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?”

Geralt leans in, pressing his lips against Jaskier’s neck and it tingles, sending sparks skittering down his spine. Jaskier bites his lip, shuts his eyes, losing himself in the soft warmth of Geralt’s mouth. He kisses him with a sort of urgency, groaning into it and rubbing his nose against the back of his neck. He drags his teeth against Jaskier’s skin and Jaskier shudders against him, leaning back into the touch.

“Oh, Geralt.”

Geralt’s fingers slip into his hair and Jaskier just sighs. He almost prefers this to the sex sometimes and maybe it’s because he doesn’t get this with anyone else, wouldn’t let anyone else get this comfortable with him. But Geralt is so soft, contrary to the rumours about Witchers, and Jaskier is happy to let him have his way with him.

Maybe it’s dangerous - not the way Astrid and Viv seem to think it is, but in a different way. Geralt is a customer, nothing more. Or he shouldn’t be anything more. But that doesn’t stop Jaskier’s heart from beating just a little quicker when he spots him coming toward the brothel. It doesn’t stop him from making stupid decisions when Geralt is there, saying things he shouldn’t. There’s just something different about this man who’s supposed to be some heartless killing machine and yet has, more than once, been happy to pay for just the pleasure of Jaskier’s company.

Geralt’s arms coil around him, his fingers slipping through the loops of the bows on his trousers, tugging a little this time, but still not trying to undo them.

“I want you,” he breathes and something about his voice sounds off -unsteady. Jaskier turns in his arms to face him and Geralt’s hands only leave him for a second.

He’s grinning when he looks at him, that same lopsided grin that seems so out of place on his face and somehow makes him even more beautiful. He tugs Jaskier close, rolling his hips against him and from here, Jaskier can smell the alcohol on his breath. Ah, that explains a bit.

“You’re drunk,” he says but it’s not accusatory.

“A little.”

Jaskier almost laughs out loud. “Darling, I can smell it on you.”

“Hmm.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you.”

“Mm, I gathered that much. Why did you get drunk first?”

“Ran into my brother,” Geralt hums, dipping down to lick a stripe up Jaskier’s neck. “Got to drinking. Eskel hired a girl-” Geralt nips at his skin and Jaskier’s body reacts despite himself “-I came to see you. Missed you.”

Oh, that’s something. His heartbeat picks up again and Geralt clearly notices because he grins down at him, bumping his nose against Jaskier’s.

“Like the way I feel when I’m with you, like the way you touch me.”

“Right,” Jaskier says, breathless.

“And the way you talk to me. Fuck, Jaskier,” he rumbles low in the back of his throat and Jaskier’s cock twitches at the sound, “I want you. Please.”

And there’s that line again between what’s normal and what isn’t. The line Geralt sits right on top of at all times. Jaskier doesn’t think much about it when Geralt isn’t there. There are weeks at a time when they don’t see each other, but it all floods back so quickly when they do. The truth is, that line is there for a reason, the rules are there for a reason, and with Geralt, Jaskier is learning all too well what that reason is.

“Very polite, darling, but I’m not going to fuck you when you’re like this.” He pulls back a little and Geralt pulls a face that can only be described as petulant. “I won’t take money from you when you’re out of your mind.”

“’M not,” Geralt protests, but Jaskier just laughs softly.

“You very much are.”

“You like it. When I came in. I could smell it on you. Still can,” he lifts an eyebrow as if to prove his point and if Jaskier was a man of less strength, he might give in to him. Geralt is stunningly beautiful, whatever anyone might say about Witchers, and there’s something inherently arousing about not being able to hide his desire from him.

But tonight it’s working against him.

“I can feel you,” Geralt whispers, pressing a hand to Jaskier’s crotch and dragging his fingers up the length of his cock, “let me touch you.” He presses his nose into Jaskier’s neck, mouthing at the sensitive spot under his jaw and mumbling into his skin. “I want your cock. Could use my mouth, make you feel amazing.”

Jaskier’s breath catches and a soft moan escapes his lips. Geralt huffs a laugh against him.

“See,” he purrs, “you want it, too. I’m good at it. I know you’d like it.”

It takes all of Jaskier’s willpower to pull away from him, to keep Geralt at arm’s length when he steps forward again. Because he does want that. He’s been thinking about Geralt’s mouth wrapped around him since the first time, but he’s never seemed so inclined. And Gods, if the offer isn’t tempting now. But the fact that this is the only time he’s brought it up makes Jaskier less inclined to act on it. Geralt is drunk and horny and while regularly, Jaskier is more than happy to have him in every possible way, this feels like taking advantage, even if Geralt is the one pushing for it.

“Not like this,” he says finally, looking up to meet Geralt’s eyes, “not when you’re drunk. You should get some sleep, is your brother still here?”

“He’s busy,” Geralt mumbles, “I can hear him. Fucking,” he adds as if it’s unclear.

“Then he’ll probably be occupied for a while, hm? Why don’t you lie down and rest, I was thinking about turning in myself.”

Geralt groans indignantly, pressing forward and wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist. “Wanna fuck you,” he rumbles, but Jaskier just shakes his head and leads Geralt toward the bed.

“Not tonight, love. Tell me you still want me in the morning and I’m yours, but not tonight.” He pries Geralt’s hands from his waist and presses him gently down to the bed. Geralt goes surprisingly without complaint, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“You’re sexy,” he says and Jaskier huffs a laugh. Geralt really is… something. He’s beautiful and even like this, Jaskier can’t keep the fondness from rising in his chest. He longs to lay down next to him, to curl around Geralt’s back and breathe in the scent of him. But he shouldn’t think these things, certainly shouldn’t encourage Geralt when he’s like this, and he sighs and stiffens his resolve.

“Thank you, Geralt, now get some rest. I’ll still be sexy in the morning.” He runs a hand down his arm, relieved when Geralt shuts his eyes.

Jaskier crosses to the other side of the room, pressing his head against the wall. His whole body is hot and his cock throbs where it’s trapped inside his trousers. Fuck, this is stupid. He shouldn’t let anyone get to him like this. He should be stronger. But Geralt touches him and says he likes the way he talks to him and Jaskier is almost ready to take him to bed, drunk or not. He wouldn’t even ask for payment in the morning.

But he won’t because he’s a better person than that, because Geralt deserves better than that. There are already so many people who take advantage of Witchers, Jaskier refuses to be one of them.

Across the room, he hears shuffling and the sound of something soft thumping against the floor. Clothes, he thinks, and he knows Geralt’s naked. Which is just one more thing he doesn’t need right now. Jaskier turns to find him a blanket, anything so he doesn’t have to look at him, and finds Geralt with his trousers shoved down his thighs, hand wrapped around his cock. Heat coils in his gut and Jaskier just catches the sound of his own name on Geralt’s lips before hurrying out the door into the hall.

He pulls the door shut behind him, leaning heavily against it and shutting his eyes. He should be stronger than this. He knows he’s a mess; Geralt thoroughly mussed his hair and he’s hot and breathing hard and the only thing that could be worse about this is someone finding him like this. Which, naturally, Anise does.

She gives him an odd look, wrapping her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders and leaning against the wall next to him.

“You okay?” she asks, “Is someone in there?” She nods toward his room and Jaskier sighs.

“It’s Geralt.”

“Did he hurt you?” she asks quickly. She’s been talking to Astrid, evidently.

“No,” Jaskier says with certainty, “he wouldn’t.”

“Then you’re out here because…?”

“He’s drunk. I told him I wouldn’t fuck him like this and he took matters into his own hands. Literally.”

“So? Join him,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him. “Seems like you could use it.” She presses her palm against the front of his trousers and Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut.

“We don’t fuck for free, remember?”

“You know he’s good for it. He’ll pay you in the morning.”

“No,” Jaskier shakes his head, “I won’t make that decision for him. I won’t take money from him while he’s drunk. I won’t touch him.”

A shadow passes over Anise’s face and she looks at Jaskier suspiciously. “Viv was right,” she says, “you’re soft on him.”

"I’m not,” Jaskier says but he can’t meet her eyes.

“Jaskier-”

“I’m not. He’s just a customer - he just happens to be better at getting me worked up than the others. I wouldn’t fuck any of them if they were drunk, either.” Anise just looks at him and shakes her head with a smile.

“Be careful with him, Jaskier. You fall so easily, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Jaskier says, pulling up a smile as she walks away, “you know I always am.” Anise disappears down the stairs and he lets his expression drop.

He waits for a little while before pushing the door open and entering the room. The darkness is silent, broken only by the soft sound of Geralt’s breath from across the room and Jaskier smiles to himself. He approaches the bed slowly, relieved to find Geralt has divested himself of the rest of his clothing but has also managed to cover himself somewhat with the blanket. Jaskier adjusts it so it covers him and Geralt shifts, turning to lie on his back and blink up at him.

Jaskier’s stomach trips over itself. Ah. Problematic.

“Shh,” Jaskier breathes, “don’t get up, it’s just me.”

Apparently satisfied, Geralt grumbles softly to himself and rolls back toward the wall. Jaskier can’t help but smile to himself. It’s a wonder anyone can be afraid of Witchers, seeing him like this and Jaskier fights back the urge to wrap himself around him.

But he’s still hard and he doesn’t want to disturb Geralt, so he slips the robe off his shoulders, lays down, pressing his hips into the mattress, and keeps as much distance between them as the bed will allow. He likes falling asleep with Geralt and this feels very unfair, that he should be so close and Jaskier isn’t allowed to touch him. Or won’t. He shuts his eyes, listening to the soft huff of Geralt’s breath and buries his head in his pillow.

But he doesn’t sleep.

Geralt makes soft, snuffling sounds in his sleep and Jaskier lays awake, torn between absolute adoration for the man lying next to him and petty bitterness at his unannounced arrival. Because now Jaskier is achingly hard and wide awake. And there’s something horrendously unfair about that fact that Geralt came here wanting to fuck him and Jaskier turned him down for this.

He shuts his eyes, pressing his face into the pillow, but apparently, this is the one Geralt had been using earlier because now it smells like him and Jaskier barely holds back a groan of frustration. Geralt shifts next to him, pressing back against his side and Jaskier silently curses him for it. He squeezes his eyes shut and shuffles toward the edge of the bed a little, distancing himself again as he rolls onto his back. He considers shoving a hand down his trousers and relieving the ache himself, but it feels wrong with Geralt right there next to him. And the worst part is, he knows this wouldn’t happen with any other customer; any other customer wouldn’t even have been allowed to stay.

Jaskier wakes to the feeling of a body moving against his own and he groans in protest before remembering who he fell asleep next to. Only Geralt is very much wrapped around him now, one leg pressed between his thighs and an arm slung over his hip. He shifts as he stretches, pressing his cock up against Jaskier’s ass. He’s hard and Jaskier has to bite down on his lip as his unsatisfied arousal from the night before flares back up again.

“Sorry,” Geralt mumbles, but he makes no attempt to move. “What am I doing here?”

“I’m not totally clear on that myself,” Jaskier says, shifting onto his other side. He keeps space between them, hoping that his cock will get the idea and calm down. “Something about your brother.”

“I remember running into Eskel, but how did I make it into your bed.”

“Ah, well, that part was much more clear. You waltzed into my room, incredibly drunk and horny and wanted me to fuck you.”

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters, tilting his head to look at him, “what do I owe you? I seem to remember losing a hefty sum to Eskel in a card game.”

“Nothing, darling. I turned you down.”

Geralt pauses, “and yet I’m still in your bed.”

“You are. Because I put you here to sleep if off. I don’t’ make a habit of taking advantage of drunk men who stumble into my room in the middle of the night. Especially not ones I’d like to see again.” Geralt frowns like he can’t quite comprehend that and Jaskier just huffs a laugh and reaches out to run a hand through his hair.

“Not that you didn’t try your best to persuade me. But I can’t be bought with pretty words.”

“You absolutely can,” Geralt mumbles, shutting his eyes again.

Jaskier laughs softly. “You’re right of course, but not when it’s important. I put you to bed and told you if you still wanted me in the morning, I’d be here.” He pauses for a moment, trying to get a read on the situation before offering himself up again. “And here I am.” Geralt is silent again and while Jaskier is trying to work out whether or not that’s a good thing, he looks up to find Geralt’s eyes open, watching him.

“I would have paid you.”

“I know,” he says gently, “it was never your honour in question. I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

Geralt looks at him like he doesn’t quite understand and he pushes Jaskier back against the bed. He moves to lie between his legs, chin just above his navel as his hands move up to bracket his ribs. His thumbs brush soft circles into his skin and Jaskier smiles down at him.

“You said if I wanted you in the morning, you’d be here. Does that offer still stand?”

“You know I’m always yours, darling.”

Geralt dips his head immediately, keeping his eyes focused on Jaskier as he presses a soft kiss against the curve of his belly. Jaskier hums, looking down at him and Geralt lowers his eyes, brushing his lips against Jaskier’s skin. He kisses him softly, leaving little wet spots on his skin and Jaskier drops his head back, shutting his eyes and focusing on the press of Geralt’s lips.

He can’t remember the last time someone was this soft with him. It’s not that all his customers are hard and uncaring, but the most affection he usually gets from them is asking if he wants to come - something Geralt considers a necessity. But Geralt has always been different than his regular customers, always softer, and this is just like him. Jaskier reaches down, slipping his fingers through his hair and pressing his fingers against his scalp.

He loves his hair. It looks like it should be stiff and wiry, but even when it’s thick with dirt or blood or gods know what, it’s soft. And Jaskier takes any chance he can to run his fingers through it, enjoys it most when he can play with it - usually in the evenings when Geralt is tired or the mornings before they dress. He undoes the tie, dropping it to the floor and gathering Geralt’s hair in his hands before it can fall into his face. Geralt hates when his hair is in his face and one day, Jaskier would like to braid it for him but he hasn’t been brave enough to ask.

Jaskier’s drawn from his thoughts as Geralt’s fingers graze his abdomen, sending a shiver through him. He sighs softly, slipping both hands around the back of Geralt’s head. He doesn’t look up until he feels a tug and finds Geralt fiddling with the bows on his trousers. A wave of arousal washes over him and his cock pulses in his trousers, apparently catching up with the fact that Geralt’s mouth is very near to it.

Geralt says nothing and, in fact, pays no mind to the fact that Jaskier is watching him, nor that his cock is hard and pressing against the front of his trousers. He moves down, kissing a line all the way to Jaskier’s waistband before pulling his trousers open and dipping lower.

Jaskier can’t help the groan that spills from his lips. He’s been wanting since the first time he laid eyes on him, wondering what Geralt’s mouth would feel like wrapped around his cock, what those lips would feel like stretched around him. But he hasn’t dared mention it, nor thought too much about it when Geralt is there because he’s never shown any interest in it - not until last night, at least.

Geralt takes so long getting his trousers undone that Jaskier isn’t even sure that’s what he’s doing at first. Geralt is always very tactile, has always favoured Jaskier’s softer, silkier clothing and he assumes this is just one of those things until cool air and hot breath dust against his cock at once.

He holds his breath and then, as Geralt’s lips press against the head of his cock, releases it in a soft moan. Geralt’s lips are soft where they’re pressed against him and they part, slipping over the head of him and it’s all he can do not to buck into the touch. He’s been hard for so long and he’s not used to being denied - even of his own will. Usually, he’s having more sex than he can physically cope with, but he’s spent the last eight hours wishing desperately for his erection to desist. And now that Geralt’s touching him - and more than that, mouthing at him like this - he doesn’t know how to restrain himself.

Geralt’s mouth moves up, closing around the head of his cock and slowly sliding down the entire length of him. Jaskier’s eyes flutter and his hands tighten instinctively, careful not to tug too hard. His hips twitch, pressing himself deeper and Geralt moans around him, flattening his tongue to the underside of his cock as he pulls back up again. He lets Jaskier slip from his mouth, winding his tongue around him before sucking the head into his mouth again.

Jaskier wants to ask why, but he knows what the answer will be; Geralt is just the kind of man who sucks a whore off just so that he feels good, too. And gods, it does feel good. Geralt is eager and attentive, carefully memorizing every little spot that makes Jaskier’s hips lift and returning to them again and again.

Jaskier can’t hold back, but Geralt doesn’t seem to want him to. Every time Jaskier’s hips buck, Geralt just takes him deeper, sucks him harder and Jaskier drops one hand to the sheets, clenching his fist around them as he arches off the bed.

He’s struck with a sudden pang of guilt, letting Geralt do all the work, but Geralt is so enthusiastic about it that Jaskier suspects any refusal to let him would be ignored. And it’s a little overwhelming having all of that thrown at him. Geralt has been nothing but kind to him since the beginning and that was confusing enough, but something comes back to him now. When was the last time someone made you feel good without expecting something in return. He didn’t know what to make of that then and he still doesn’t now.

None of his other customers have ever thought to suck him off like this, not even to get him hard when it’s a struggle. But Geralt- fuck - perfect, beautiful Geralt who only ever wants Jaskier to feel as good as he does. How was he ever supposed to withstand that? How was he ever supposed to see this lovely man who only wants to make other people happy and not fall absolutely head over heels for him?

Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut, forcing down the urge to haul Geralt up and kiss him, to lose himself in those soft lips against his own. He rolls his head back with a groan, dropping his hand to Geralt’s cheek, brushing his thumb over his skin as the pleasure swells within him. Geralt makes him come more often than the rest of his customers combined and yet still Jaskier has never wanted so badly in his life.

Geralt sinks down on him, nose pressed against Jaskier’s skin and he rumbles low around him as his palm slips up Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier’s cock twitches against Geralt’s tongue and he curls his fingers under his jaw, moaning as he rolls his head back.

“Fuck, Geralt-” he tries to keep himself steady, to keep from coming with Geralt’s mouth around him, but Geralt looks up at him. He locks eyes with him for just a second, but it’s enough to snap Jaskier’s carefully managed control and he comes with an unintentional moan, hips stuttering even as Geralt holds him against the bed.

He shudders under Geralt’s hand, pulls his legs up and lets them drop again, pushing his hips forward. And then Geralt pulls off, licking up the length of his cock before kissing the skin beneath it. Jaskier’s breath comes heavily, his chest heaving with it in contrast to the soft little kisses Geralt presses into his skin.

It’s not until Geralt lifts his head that Jaskier realizes he’s got a hand tangled in his hair. He doesn’t even remember putting it back there, but Geralt doesn’t seem to mind, pressing up into the touch. He slips both hands under Jaskier’s hips, curling his fingers around the bunched waist of his trousers and tugging them down. Jaskier’s hand slips from his hair and he sinks into the bed as Geralt pulls them off and settles back in place between his legs.

He slides one arm under Jaskier’s thigh, curling arm around it and presses his lips to the most sensitive part of it. He sucks lightly, careful not to leave marks and Jaskier wants to tell him not to worry about it, that he likes the marks, but he knows he shouldn’t. His customers don’t like seeing the evidence of another man on him, but Jaskier has spent hours last time looking at the marks Geralt had left. But Geralt had felt so guilty Jaskier doesn’t think he could ever convince him of how much he loved seeing them. So he stays quiet now, slips his hands through Geralt’s hair and shuts his eyes as Geralt’s tongue slides up the inside of his thigh.

“Oh,” he breathes softly, “you’re very enthusiastic today. Maybe I should make you wait more often.” There’s a huff of breath against his skin and a gentle bite that’s sexier than it has any right to be.

Geralt kisses his way up both of his thighs before turning his attention back to Jaskier’s cock, now sitting soft against his hip. He runs his tongue up the length of it, coiling around the head and Jaskier learns very quickly that Geralt is very good with his tongue.

Jaskier isn’t immune to a mouth wrapped around his cock, but it’s rare that he gets hard multiple times in a day, never mind an hour. But Geralt’s tongue wraps around him and Jaskier can feel himself swelling under his ministrations, the heat in his core rising again. Geralt sucks him down, pressing his tongue against the underside of Jaskier’s cock as he slides up his length and back down again. He doesn’t pull off again until Jaskier is rock hard, straining when he drops from Geralt’s lips.

Geralt crawls up over him, pressing his chest against Jaskier’s and pushing his knees under his thighs. He pushes his nose through Jaskier’s chest hair, kissing a line up his chest.

“Can I fuck you?” The words are muttered into his skin, followed up with a series of wet kisses, and Jaskier almost laughs. But thick fingers curl around his cock, drawing a soft moan instead and Jaskier looks at the ceiling instead of Geralt.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t, darling.”

Lust and something that feels too close to affection swells in his chest as Geralt’s fingers slip back behind his balls, pressing against his rim. He lets out a little gasp and reaches over the edge of the bed for the little bottle of oil he keeps there. It’s in case of emergency - or for his own personal use when he’s left high and dry at the end of the day - and he’s thankful for it now.

He pushes it at Geralt and no further direction is needed before Geralt is tipping it over his fingers and pressing back against Jaskier’s hole. He shouldn’t let him do this. It’s too much, too intimate; the whole reason he wears the plug is to prevent anyone from touching him like this, from pushing in and working him open - but he can’t say no to Geralt, wouldn’t want to anyway.

Jaskier lets himself be stretched on Geralt’s fingers, works his hips to help speed up the process because as much as he loves having Geralt’s fingers inside him, it leaves him with an anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach. Because what if Geralt realizes he doesn’t do these things with anyone else? What if he realizes Jaskier is pushing too far, asking for too much? He couldn’t bear to lose him. But the fear isn’t quite strong enough to counteract the aching need in his chest. So he lets Geralt ease into him, lets Geralt prep him in the way no one else ever has - not at least since he started working here.

Geralt fucks into him with quick, precise movements, like he’s doing this for Jaskier’s enjoyment and not just so he can fuck him. Which does something to his head and his heart that’s too much to cope with right now. So Jaskier shuts his eyes and lets himself be looked after. Because it feels good and Geralt wants to. And isn’t his entire job to make Geralt happy? It’s maybe not the most honest way of looking at things, but Geralt’s lips press against his neck and Jaskier can���t do anything but whimper in response.

By the time Geralt gets around to fucking him, Jaskier’s so worked up he could come at any second. His thoughts are foggy, mixed up in Geralt’s scent and his touch. This is not a regular rendezvous, not a regular fuck with a regular customer - and maybe it hasn’t been with Geralt for a long time.

When Geralt pushes into him, he presses his forehead against Jaskier’s stomach, groaning against him. Jaskier can feel the tension in his body, in the way he keeps himself from pushing too hard, too quick, and he slides a hand over Geralt’s cheek.

“You don’t have to be so careful,” he breathes, then realizes maybe Geralt is just pacing himself. “When was the last time?”

“When I was here,” Geralt groans, rocking back before slipping deeper.

“Fuck,” Jaskier shuts his eyes, trying to focus through the pleasure zipping through him, “Geralt, that was months ago.” He only gets a soft hum in response and something in Jaskier’s chest tightens. He runs his thumb over Geralt’s cheekbone and sighs. “Why didn’t you see anyone?”

“I don’t go to other brothels.” Geralt rolls his hips slowly, sliding fully into him, but it’s not the press of his cock that leaves Jaskier breathless.

“Why not?” he asks, hoping his voice doesn’t come out as breathless as he feels right now.

“I don’t need to,” Geralt huffs, “I have you.”

Warmth floods his chest and for a second, it feels like he can’t breathe, but he’s quick to tamp down the feeling. As much as he hates her for it, Anise is right and he shouldn’t allow himself to get close to his customers. But Geralt is so soft and gentle and caring that Jaskier wonders how anyone could resist him.

Jaskier pushes any and all thoughts from his mind, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and tugging him up over him. He presses his nose into his neck, kisses him, lets his lips hover over his pulse point, feeling the steady even beat of Geralt’s heart as Geralt fucks him.

Geralt makes him come again without any effort whatsoever and while Jaskier is trying to remember how to breathe, Geralt follows. They settle against each other, Geralt with his head on Jaskier’s chest and Jaskier softly running his fingers through his hair. He feels oddly content in a way he hasn’t in a long time but beneath that there’s a buzzing anxiety, reminding him that he shouldn’t let this continue for too long.

Most of his customers get off and get out, but Jaskier would wonder if he’d done something wrong if Geralt left right away. In fact, he can count the number of times he’s left that night at all. And if he’s honest with himself, he likes cuddling with him, even if it doesn’t happen every time. So Jaskier takes advantage of it while he can, running his hands over Geralt’s shoulder and combing his fingers through his hair. The first time Geralt came to him, he’d said it had been a long time since he’d shared a bed with someone and Jaskier had gotten the impression that it was something he’d wanted. One of the many things Geralt refused to ask for - at least in the beginning.

Now, Geralt’s breath is hot against his shoulder and his fingers slip softly over Jaskier’s skin. It’s too close to intimacy, too close to something neither of them should want and Jaskier knows if Anise saw him right now, she’d have a whole lot to say about it. Sometimes that’s the only thing that keeps him from fully crossing that line into too much - imagining what she would do if she saw them together. And right now he knows he has to do something to get this back on track.

“I’m gonna be no use to anyone today,” he hums, resisting the urge to press his nose into Geralt’s hair. He feels Geralt stiffen against him and feels guilty about the reminder, but it’s best he remembers this is just a transaction. Jaskier huffs a laugh and shifts under Geralt, readjusting himself. “Maybe I’ll take the day off.”

“You should,” Geralt murmurs, “you deserve time to yourself.”

Jaskier’s heart flutters and he shuts his eyes. Geralt really is so soft. “Spend the day with me,” he blurts before he can think better of it. Decidedly not what he should be suggesting.

“My brother,” Geralt mumbles and Jaskier can feel embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck. He’s a whore, of course Geralt wouldn’t choose him over his brother, even for the day.

“Right. Of course-”

“I promised him I’d work a contract with him before-”

“Before you got drunk and stumbled into my room?” Jaskier offers.

“Hmm.” Jaskier shuts his eyes and tries to will away the red flush he can feel in his cheeks, but Geralt tips his head, pressing up to kiss the underside of Jaskier’s neck. “Next time,” he says and every one of Jaskier’s defences drops.

He watches as Geralt pushes himself up and disentangles himself from the blankets. Fuck. Jaskier is usually so good at keeping his work life professional; he’s never once allowed himself to think about his customers as anything but what they are. But as Geralt raises his arms in a stretch, Jaskier’s chest tightens and he realizes no amount of professionalism can save him now, he’s already in too deep.

“Can I ask you something?” Geralt says and Jaskier’s eyes snap up to his, suddenly aware that he’s been staring. “The girl Eskel was with was very… enthusiastic.”

“Of course she was, darling, it’s her job.”

“They nearly threw me out the first time I came here. Because I’m a Witcher.”

“Ah. Well. It might have gotten out that a certain Witcher is actually very good in bed.”

“Might have?” Geralt asks, lifting an eyebrow as he approaches the edge of the bed again. He’s dressed again, but he could be covered in pond scum and still be absolutely stunning - he’s witnessed it, in fact.

“The walls are thin and I make a point of not faking it.”

Geralt leans over him, pressing his mouth against his neck, kissing over his pulse point. “You should put something on, we have to go find him if you want to get paid.”

Ah. In the heat of the moment, Jaskier had almost forgotten about payment. Best not tell Anise about that.

The other Witcher is similar to Geralt in almost every respect, though he’s broader and bears a terrible scar down the right side of his face. He pays as Geralt said he would, casting first a dubious look at Geralt then one of almost calculating confusion at Jaskier before thanking him and turning away. Geralt goes with him and Jaskier watches from his window as they make their way toward the inn together. He waits until they’re out of sight, a part of him hoping Geralt will turn and look back at him, but he doesn’t.

It’s the first time he’s had a glimpse of any part of Geralt’s life outside the brothel and it leaves an odd sort of feeling in his stomach that he can’t quite place. Jaskier sighs to himself as he pushes away from the window. Geralt already has so little and gives so much, how can he still want more from him? Before he can think too much of it, there’s a knock on the door and Jaskier opens it to the servant boy with water for a bath.

It’s fine, he thinks, he shouldn’t dwell too much on Witchers and feelings anyway.

[jokertrap-ran]

(未定事件簿) EVENT!「致斯卡提的情诗」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: A Love Poem to SKADI Translation (The Manor of Hermes: Mo Yi Route)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event

News Notebook:

MC: Dr. Mo, do you see that thing that's being sandwiched between two books?

Mo Yi: Well, I've already taken it down. It's a notebook, with lots of newspaper excerpts pasted inside it.

MC: Newspaper excerpts? What about?

Mo Yi: They're all reports detailing about the treatment of mental illnesses, with no exception.

He instructed me to take note of the contents written within as he flipped through the notebook.

There was a string of numbers annotated above the newspaper snippet pasted on the last page of the notebook; "No. 0012".

Mo Yi: Additionally, there are also comments written beside each and every article here that says "tried", "not tried", "not effective", and so on.

MC: "Tried" and "not tried"...? Does this mean that someone was being treated with all the methods that had been in the news?

MC: Also, just who's collecting all this information?

Mo Yi: ……

He smiled, but never answered my question.

Mo Yi: Okay, let's not mull over such a complicated topic right now. I have something for you to see.

He gently took my hand, placing the thing he had been polishing off into my palm.

MC: This is… A fragment of "Allie's Winter"!

Mo Yi: That's right. This one fell out of the notebook when I was retrieving it.

Mo Yi: I have to say, we're pretty… Lucky.

☆ Obtained: News Notebook! ☆ Obtained: Green Jewel Fragment!

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

[News Notebook Info]

A notebook filled with a large number of newspaper excerpts. A series of numbers is written on the last page, "No. 0012"; this set of numbers seem to have a special connection to the code case in the same room where this notebook was found. These snippets of news are mostly reporting about how mental illnesses were being treated through Electroconvulsive Therapy, and Hydrotherapy, etc. It's worth noting that there are also comments beside the reports; there was someone who was paying particular attention to the contents of the reports.

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Burnt Medical Equipment:

MC: These are all really badly damaged…

MC: Can you tell what they are, Dr. Mo?

Mo Yi: ……

He remained silent for a while, for some unbeknownst reason.

MC: ???

Mo Yi: These are all… Mostly equipment that are used to treat mental illnesses, physically.

MC: Treating mental illnesses… Physically?

Mo Yi: That's right. If I'm not wrong, these destroyed equipment should be…

Mo Yi: An electrical shocking device to assist in the application of Electroconvulsive Therapy.

MC: Electroconvulsive Therapy!?

The words that he had just uttered gave me a fright.

Mo Yi: Yes. Various physical forms of therapy that are similar to Electroconvulsive Therapy have always been…

Mo Yi: The go-to of treating mental illnesses in the past, before the successful development of Chlorpromazine.

Mo Yi: And it looks like there was at least one such patient within the Manor.

MC: Do you know the specific circumstances surrounding the person being treated here?

Mo Yi: I'm afraid we'll have to find other leads if I am to do that.

He scrutinized the things in front of him for a while.

Mo Yi: Wait… The green shards in this corner here look like… Jewel fragments?

MC: Fragments… From "Allie's Winter"!

☆ Obtained: Burnt Medical Equipment! ☆ Obtained: Green Jewel Fragment!

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

[Burnt Medical Equipment Info]

The Electric Shock Device used in Electroconvulsive Therapy has serious scorch marks on it. Before the successful development of Chlorpromazine, various types of physical therapy similar to Electroconvulsive Therapy were widely used in clinical treatments of mental illnesses. Perhaps, those methods may have saved a couple of lives, but the most unfortunate thing of it all, is that it has only made a greater number of people fall into the throes of another type of “despair”. 

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Surgical Instruction Manual:

Mo Yi stopped in front of the bookshelf.

MC: What's wrong, Dr. Mo? Did you find something?

Mo Yi: There are lots of instruction manuals on how to perform physical therapy on patients with mental illnesses on this shelf.

Mo Yi: Just like this book here…

He took the book down from the shelf, handing it to me.

Mo Yi: The method that's mainly explained in this book is Hydrotherapy.

Mo Yi: Its therapeutic effect is attained by letting the patient recline in the bathtub, and then subjecting them to the continued simulation of icy cold water and boiling hot water over and over again.

Mo Yi: In addition to that, there are also books here about torture, interrogation, and exorcism methods.

Mo Yi: They're all once-famous methods of physical therapy that were commonly used.

MC: But it's absolutely impossible to cure the patients using such methods, I'm sure…

Mo Yi: That's right. Not only will they not be cured, but some of their conditions might also be further aggravated in the process.

Mo Yi: However…

Mo Yi: Needing to read an Instruction Manual of this calibre? Is the person living here really a doctor?

MC: ???

Mo Yi: It's nothing.

Mo Yi: Right, how about you look into the depths of the bookshelf? Is there still anything in there?

MC: Oh? There's something sparkling brightly in there… It kinda looks like…

I attempted to retrieve the shiny thing.

MC: A Jewel Fragment!

Mo Yi: Looks like it's just the thing we're looking for.

☆ Obtained: Surgical Instruction Manual! ☆ Obtained: Green Jewel Fragment!

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

[Surgical Instruction Manual Info]

A Surgical Instruction Manual found on a bookshelf. The contents of this book cover almost all of the more popular physical therapies used to treat mental illnesses back then, such as Hydrotherapy, Torture, Interrogation, Exorcism, etc. However, there are a lot of myths and exaggerated descriptions being written in it; clearly not a professional medical book, and obviously not for professional doctors to pursue.

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Special Surgical Equipment:

There were some oddly shaped tools inside the cabinet.

▷Choice: Open the cabinet's door

MC: What are these used for?

Mo Yi: Don't touch those.

I attempted to get a closer look at them when he suddenly quipped.

MC: Dr. Mo!?

Mo Yi: I apologise for scaring you, but it's best if you don't touch those.

MC: Why? Is there something special about them?

Mo Yi: These tools are used for Lobotomies, and Ice-picking.

MC: ???

Mo Yi: Both of which are methods used to treat mental illnesses.

MC: But from the shape of these tools… Like this one, for example. It looks like an Awl; wouldn't it damage a person's brain?

Mo Yi: ……

He lapsed into a moment of silence.

Mo Yi: ...Lobotomy and Ice-pick Lobotomy; Ice-picking, in particular...

Mo Yi: They're both essentially methods to cut the very brain itself.

Mo Yi: Take Ice-picking for example. First, the patient will be paralyzed by an electric shock.

Mo Yi: Then, the doctor inserts a tool, shaped like an ice-pick, into the upper end of the patient's eyeball, through the orbit of the eye.

Mo Yi: After that, all the doctor needs to do is to continuously tap on the other end of the tool with a hammer, to cut off the cortex of the prefrontal lobe of the brain to achieve the desired effect.

MC: But this method will never…

Mo Yi: That's right. This form of treatment is basically self-mutilation.

Mo Yi: Many patients in the past suffered from severe post-op side effects and complications that arose, becoming what's essentially a "walking dead".

MC: So… You're saying that someone here, in this Mansion, has been, or was going to, be subjected to this sort of surgery?

Mo Yi: ...Yes.

MC: ……

For some reason, what he'd said made me feel deeply disturbed and upset.

Mo Yi: (Y/n), look deeper into the cabinet. Do you see anything else?

He pointed to something in the depths of the cabinet where a faintly discernible light flickered.

After that, following the light, he stretched out his hand.

Mo Yi: ...Looks like we're pretty lucky.

Mo Yi: It's a Jewel Fragment of "Allie's Winter".

MC: !!!

☆ Obtained: Special Surgical Equipment! ☆ Obtained: Green Jewel Fragment

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

[Special Surgical Equipment Info]

A special equipment used in extracting white matter.

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Allie's Medical Record Ⅰ:

Some documents were laid out on the desk.

Mo Yi frowned as he looked at them.

MC: What's wrong, Dr. Mo?

Mo Yi: Look at this.

MC: A Medical Record?

Mo Yi: That's right. The attending physician is Geraldi, and the patient is Allie Modro.

MC: Mr. Lasture's daughter? What illness was she down with?

Mo Yi: Based on her manifested symptoms, I'd say that some of them correspond with that of mania.

MC: Did Miss Allie get better?

Mo Yi: Not only did she fail to get better, based on this report, it seems like her condition only went downhill from that time onwards.

Mo Yi: Miss Allie was still able to maintain stability and retain her sanity for a short period of time throughout the day.

Mo Yi: In the end, she became unable to maintain her sanity, and could only be forcibly locked in the house.

MC: I see… That's such a pity… But back during the era when the Mansion was erected, illnesses like mania were…

MC: Practically incurable.

Mo Yi: While that may certainly be one of the main factors at play, I believe that Allie's attending physician also had a part in attributing to how she ended up in this state.

Mo Yi: This Geraldi person is not a doctor at all.

MC: How do you know that for sure, Dr. Mo?

Mo Yi: Although this medical record looks like something written by an actual doctor, the way the illness is described is confusing, and nowhere near accurate enough for it to matter.

Mo Yi: And on the topic of applied treatment methods, all he did was to declare that he'd tried several well-known physical therapy methods on Allie's person.

Mo Yi: This far-fetched approach only served to further aggravate her condition and tarnish her health.

Mo Yi: Perhaps it was because he approached the matter with the wrong method, because based on her early symptoms…

Mo Yi: She'd never have fallen this far down, to completely lose her mind, if she had received proper treatment.

MC: So, in the end, Miss Allie…

Mo Yi: The last treatment record is missing. We'll have to look for other leads.

MC: Okay.

Mo Yi: Oh, yes. I found something else on the desk other than this Medical Record.

MC: What else did you find?

Mo Yi: The Jewel Fragment that we're searching for.

Mo Yi: Be sure to keep it tucked away safely.

☆ Obtained: Allie's Medical Record Ⅰ! ☆ Obtained: Green Jewel Fragment!

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

[Allie's Medical Record Ⅰ Info]

Allie Modro's Medical Record. Her attending physician is Geraldi, but the Medical Record isn't complete, for it is missing the report on her last treatment. From the contents of the Record, Allie Modro seems to be suffering from Mania; but as her treatment continued, get condition only continued to deteriorate, before she finally ended up completely losing her mind. Additionally, based on the content being written in the report along with the treatment methods that Allie's doctor used, there's a possibility that her doctor may have forged his identity.

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Allie's Medical Record Ⅱ:

MC: Dr. Mo, look at this, beneath the bed!

MC: Wouldn't you say that this is a Medical Record?

Mo Yi: It is; but it isn't complete. It's missing the contents that come before it.

MC: What's written on this one though?

Mo Yi: "Patient Allie Modro's mental state has plunged into complete mania…"

Mo Yi: "...Lobotomy, or more conveniently, Ice-picking, is recommended."

Mo Yi: …...

MC: Dr. Mo…

Mo Yi: I'm fine. Let's see if there are any more leads lying around here.

MC: Yeah.

After that, Mo Yi and I thoroughly checked the objects and marks that were around the bed several times over; but unfortunately…

Other than the Green Jewel Fragment that we found in a corner…

We failed to find any other records detailing the treatment that Allie received.

☆ Obtained: Allie's Medical Record Ⅱ! ☆ Obtained: Green Jewel Fragment!

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

[Allie's Medical Record Ⅱ Info]

Allie Modro’s Medical Record. The front part is missing; all that’s left is the last and final treatment that has been recorded. It is stated in the Record that Allie's doctor had suggested performing a Lobotomy or, more conveniently, Ice-picking, due to the fact that Allie had already fallen into a complete maniacal state.

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Treatment Case Records:

MC: (All the Jewel Fragments have been collected.)

MC: (The notch of the lock on this door resembles that of the sword segment on Allie's Winter…)

MC: (I'll just have to piece the fragments I collected together and place them into it and see what happens…)

MC: (Johnny did say that the Jewels were able to open doors, after all.)

☆⋅⋆…⋅⋆⋅⋅⋆⋅…⋆⋅☆

MC: Dr. Mo? I found this in the cabinet.

I passed the few documents I had on hand to him, and he quickly flipped through them.

MC: How is it, Dr. Mo? Find anything?

Mo Yi: These documents are Treatment Case Reports. Most of the patients detailed in these suffer from mental illnesses.

Mo Yi: There was a doctor who performed Lobotomy, or Ice-picking on them, and then paid close attention to how they reacted to it post-op.

Mo Yi: They hoped to find out whether either of these two methods were effective through these.

MC: And how did these people fare after the operation…?

Mo Yi: Very badly. Most of them faced severe complications and post-op side effects.

☆⋅ Obtained: Treatment Case Records!

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

[Treatment Case Records Info]

A large amount of Treatment Records for patients stricken with mental illnesses. All of these patients either went through Lobotomy or Ice-picking, and the person who wrote these records had kept a close eye on how they reacted post-op. But what's unfortunate is that many of these patients faced severe complications and post-op side effects.

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Treatment Room's Code Case: Geraldi's Account Book

MC: It's open!

MC: Let's see what's inside…

MC: An Account Book!?

I scanned through the contents of the Ledger, shocked at what I was seeing.

MC: What an astounding amount of money and artworks… Is the owner of this Account Book someone rich?

MC: (Let's see who wrote this Account Book…)

I flipped to the first page.

MC: "Geraldi…?"

☆ Obtained: Geraldi's Account Book!

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

[Geraldi's Account Book Info]

An old personal Account Book owned by Geraldi. According to it, Geraldi managed to attain a large amount of wealth, including gold and artworks, in a certain period. However, there is no record written in this Account Book as to where all this money came from, nor is there any pertaining to where it all went to in the end.

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅A Love Poem to SKADI⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

[animatedminds]

Pixar’s Soul: Review and Reaction

The first sentence I’ve always used to describe Pete Docter and Pixar’s Soul since watching it has nothing to do with the plot. It’s instead is a starstruck comment about the music: the movie begins with a cover of a Duke Ellington classic - Mercer Ellington’s “Things Ain’t What they Used to Be.” It ends with a jazz rendition of a classic from several decades later - but still quite a bit in our past - Curtis Mayfield’s soul classic “It’s Alright.” On a personal level, this would say way more about Soul that most other descriptions of it might to get me to watch it - were I not the kind of person who was absolutely intent on watching the movie day one regardless. Though I am myself a few generations after either of those artists were around, their music has been a part of my life since I was a kid and are essential on any playlist in my opinion. Curtis Mayfield’s music, especially, deserves all the love in the world, and hearing by surprise someone cover his work in a Disney movie made my entire day - and it would have, even if the film weren’t the meaningful ride it is.

But before we get into all that, lets also look at those songs. “Things Aren’t What They Used To Be” is played a la a teacher and a higher school band class: the students are learning and a bit difficult to listen to, while the music-loving teacher cringes at the front. But the choice of song tells us a lot. It’s a jazz standard: which means when it comes to jazz, it’s one of the essentials - a tune every band learns to play, and every jazz fan has heard before. The teacher is a jazzman - you can probably guess who - and the whole time he’s listening to the song you can hear him wanting to sit down and make it sound as perfectly as he hears it in his head. Remember that analogy. Heck, when you watch or rewatch the movie, remember the mindset Joe - because that’s who that teacher is, Joe Gardner, is in for that whole teaching scene in the first place: and remember how important the desire to make things perfect is to the greater story the movie is trying to tell.

“Things Aren’t The Way They Used To Be,” indeed. By the end, you have to wonder: isn’t that the point? Now the second song. “It’s All Right” is a smooth number for dancing to - not frenetic and wild dancing, but more a slow jam sort of vibe. BUt it’s the lyrics that are the most befitting the themes of the movie. Like several of Curtis Mayfield’s tunes “It’s All Right” is an ear worm of an R&B number that’s actually about being a peace with yourself. “You’ve got soul” - ha, I get it - “and everybody knows, that it’s all right.” Or, to quote instead my favorite verse of the song (I did say Mayfield was one of my favorites): “when you wake up early in the morning feeling sad like so many of us do, hum a little soul, make life your goal, and surely something’s gonna come to you.” This is before the spoilery part of the review, but they could not have picked a better song for the movie’s themes if they wrote it themselves.

Soul, after all, is ultimately a movie about how the things we do, the things we love, even the things that define us and should make us feel good in and of themselves, can become a shackle that prevents us from feeling the things that we adopt them to feel. Dreams - especially dreams deferred - can consume us rather than uplift us, and sometimes in pursuing them we may forget to live, and forget that others are living in this world and dreaming alongside us.

This, as you might be able to tell from the way I’ve described it, is a movie with a very strong, and most importantly very well related message that - as we’ve come to expect from Pixar’s output at this point - touches us in our jaded adult hearts. As a creative person with lofty dreams who has almost literally been where the protagonist is in this film - and as many in my generation also have gone through - it definitely feels like a film that was directed straight at the generation that first watched Toy Story as kids decades ago, and now feel somewhat unfulfilled as adults going into the world. Same as Inside Out (a movie specifically designed to make adults cry, in my opinion), the SparkShorts and arguably Onward (I definitely related to Bailey, some). So much like my review of Jingle Jangle, you have something of an idea where this review is going to go before the jump, but that’s okay. This movie did have ups and downs, but its just the kind of up Pixar is good at: they know they’re audience, and especially did for this gem. By the end, it can definitely make you feel as though you too can make it through, as long as you have a little Soul. However, it is not just the message, but the nuances and skill in which they relate that message (and they do come close to making decisions that could have ruined it, at times), which means it’s very difficult for me to put why this movie works into a review without SPOILERS. If you want to avoid SPOILERS, don’t hop over the pic and instead treat the above as your non-SPOILER review.

Soul is the story of one Joe Gardner, played by Jamie Foxx a brilliant early middle-aged pianist with lifelong dreams of becoming a jazz musician, who we first meet teaching part time band at a local high school. The inciting incident is an interesting choice: Joe gets a major offer - he can come on as a full time teacher, making his occupation a career! But Joe believes very much in the adage that “those who cannot do, teach” - in the sense that he wants to do. He cannot accept the position - over the advice of his mother - because that would mean giving up on his dream of being out there playing music for a living: a dream that has consumed him his entire life but which has given him nothing in return. Until now. While agonizing over the decision to take the position, Joe's life then gets a big twist: a former student of his, remembering him fondly years after they knew each other, has a hook for him to join the band of a famous jazz singer and saxophonist - played by Angela Basset (side note, here: jazz has long had a reputation for being something of a boys club, especially for certain instruments, and the choice to have the lead saxophonist and famous idol whose band Joe wants to join be a woman is a great choice that my entire jazz-loving and living family took note of). Joe is instantly elated - he rushes over and naturally aces the audition for the part in the band, and so is on cloud nine...

Until he dies. That’s when the plot really starts. Joe falls down a manhole like an astronomer in an aesop fable, and is now stuck on the slow escalator to The Great Beyond. Naturally, he’s not for that and tries to escape - pursued by overeager spiritual soul-accountant Terry - ending up in the Great Before instead, and leaving his body in a still-living coma (the implications that coma patients in general are people who are choosing not to die when they’re “supposed” to is something I’m sure the writers didn’t intend, so I’ll let it slide). There, Joe is pressganged into mentoring a pre-prepared soul for birth, helping them find their Spark for life - which Joe interprets as the one true purpose and dream they are meant to fulfill. Once he gets them their Spark, he will be able to steal a badge his mentee earns as fully fledged souls and . Luckily for his intended very morally suspect intent on spiritual larceny, he ends up with Soul #22 - and that’s #22 out of hundreds of billions - a soul who has simply never found a Spark despite having been in the Great Before for thousands of years. #22 doesn’t want to live, so she agrees to give him her patch when they’re done. But no mentor before has been able to inspire her (well, technically #22 is genderless, as she demonstrates in the story at Joe’s request, but she is voiced by Tina Fey), so how can Joe? When that proves to be too hard indeed, #22 instead decides to help Joe get back - mostly because she’s intrigued at why anyone would want to cling to life so badly - with the help of some mystics who astral project while in the Zone: where everyone goes when they’re fully immersed in what they do. This almost works, but at the last second everything goes awry: #22 gets mixed up with Joe when he returns, and so he doesn’t quite get back the way he wants to...

That’s enough plot summary for now. That’s all just the set-up anyway, for the choices in writing and concept that I’m about to talk about. As you might have been able to tell from that ominous last note, the middle chunk of Soul - almost right up until the climax, in fact - is actually a body-swap movie, a la Freaky Friday. #22 ends up in Joe’s body, so he has to get her to do the things he needs to get ready for his gig and get through the day while they wait for the mystic to bring a way to set everything right. And did I mention he’s in the body of a cat? Having been following the movie, this wasn’t entirely a surprise, but it was still not something I was entirely ready for coming in. I tend to shy away from that kind of story on a personal level, as body-swap narratives are nearly predominantly based on cringe moments and awkward misconceptions - and that sort of thing usually tends to make me want to leave the scene in question and get a cup of water until after the awkwardness passes. However, this isn’t really part of the review in the sense that I perceive that the movie being in that genre is a flaw - because ultimately that’s just an aspect of my personal taste. Rather, I use it to show just how strong a movie Soul was and how well its narrative choices resonated with its themes that ultimately while it did indeed partake in your typical body-swap narrative cringe moments - “look, the [redacted] in Joe’s body just ran into his boss / mom!” / “look, the [redacted] is having a bizarre conversation with Joe’s friends!” / etc - those moments actually add to the narrative rather than take you out of it. Joe as “friends,” as exemplified by the barber he goes to to get his hair ready for the gig when it inevitably gets ruined in a bout of hijinks (the barber being that extremely well-designed bearded character the internet went wild over). He goes to that barber all the time, talks with him constantly, and believes he knows him well. But it turns out that Joe’s so wrapped up in his wants and desires that he’s never even asked him about his life - he just assumed that the barber was like him, born to do that one thing he was good at. It takes #22′s innocent, slightly off-kilter and occasional philosophical questions about what the heck all this “life” stuff is about for Joe to learn that this person in his life didn’t even want to be where he ended up initially, he ended up there because that’s the way his life turned, but he loves it because it’s life and he appreciates the world he’s come to create around himself. Likewise, he runs into his mom, but while Joe has come to expect his mother to be dismissive of him and his dreams, it takes an accident with #22 for him to realize that he’s been so caught up in his desires and her in her preconceptions that neither of them have ever had a real talk about their relationship, nor given a chance to grow in each other’s eyes. You might notice a trend. One of Joe’s students - a brilliant trombonist - comes to tell him she’s quitting band, but she doesn’t really. She’s just insecure because the other students make fun of her. Joe knows this already - it’s become commonplace to him - so the doesn’t feel the need to do anything about it and instead focuses on his own needs. But #22 decides to talk to her on a whim, and this push and pull of insecurity but joy in what one is good at fascinates her, while it bores Joe. While - like any other New Yorker - public transit is a chore to Joe, the melting pot of people and music draws #22 in: best evidenced by the moment where Joe and #22 meet another great musician playing for tips in the subway. Joe, despite being capable of relating as a musician, just walks past him after appreciating the sound for a sec, while #22, entranced by the things people do, leaves something for him. The world is drab and lacking in vibrancy from Joe’s point of view, as evidenced by the very accurate grimy look of the high school he work at - but from #22′s seemingly jaded eyes seeing it for the first time, it’s full of wonder.

This actually creates an interesting character contrast on top of the one we already know: Joe is the idealist, and #22 is the cynic... right? Well, it turns out Joe doesn’t have much of an appreciation for the world around him - not intentionally, but still to a very strong degree - whereas #22 simply hasn’t had the chance to experience life yet and thus never knew what it was that made people want to be part of it. Life itself becomes her Spark, though neither of them realize it at the time. Lets just get the aesop out of the way now. Your dream is not your life: that’s what Soul wants to say. Things that compel you as a person may consume you, even embitter you, and prevent you from seeing the world around you for what it is. But that doesn’t make dreams a bad thing: people everywhere find that Spark from the dreams to keep moving forward - it’s just that it shouldn’t preclude living, nor should living preclude your dreams. Life is a delicate balance, and man is this movie serving up some complicated life lessons here. I immediately took this as a far more mature take on the message The Princess and the Frog stumbled somewhat through years ago (man, I’m turning out to be pretty hard on that movie in this blog). My biggest issue with PATF is that it tells us that Tiana should be less intent on her dream and find love instead, but doesn’t show us. It’s just characters chiding her for not settling down until the plot ultimately pushes a man in front of her and she realizes she should’ve been finding one all along. That’s a very harsh way of putting it, but it condenses what I’m trying to say: ultimately PATF pushes Tiana to realizations she doesn’t seem to need, whereas Soul has a similar message about life and does so by focusing on character development, about how the protagonist doesn’t have as firm a handle on his life as he thought, and thus brings us a take on the lesson that’s far less cut and dry.

If you’re a fan of The Incredibles, the comparison to Mr. Incredible is fairly easy. Joe, though well meaning and decent overall, is a very self-centered person who happens to be so for very sympathetic and relatable reasons. He just wants to do the thing he feels he was born to. He'll do anything to get back to life and do that thing, even for a single night. He’s consumed by this desire so much that he's oblivious to the people around him, unable to connect to the people he loves, and unable to find joy in anything but his dream. And man, as a young writer who knows in their heart of hearts they can do great things and feels pain at the idea of not doing so, that hits different let me tell you.

The lessons Joe learns from #22 even stick. It turns out that part of what caused Joe’s dream to fail all those time was because of that lack of connection with life. He never presented himself in a way that got people to take notice of him, he never pushed for that position he wanted even though people said no, he never made himself and his life so vibrant that he glowed in the eyes of others (and again, that hits different). That’s maybe the most simplistic message of the bunch, but as a person in the creative field it’s true that sometimes being the smartest person in the room isn’t enough: it’s making himself shine that ultimately clinches Joe the gig even after he almost lost it thanks to the day’s shenanigans.

But in the end, it doesn’t feel like he thought he would.

Remember when I said there are parts where the movie comes perilously close to kiboshing its message? That moment is one, it’s the one. Not that that moment is bad - far from it, it’s the best moment in the entire movie (and you can fight me on that if you want to). It’s because it’s the crossroads, the pin, the core of the entire film: depending on the choice they made after that point, that moment could have either been the best moment in the entire movie, or the moment that toppled everything.

The realization of Joe’s dream doesn’t feel like the explosion of confetti and catharsis that he expected. It was just another moment of his life, a great one, but it’s still just part of his life. So what does Joe do? Does he panic? Does he keep going until it feels good? Does he - as he would in a lesser movie trying to give a cookie cutter aesop - immediately quit and realize he should’ve been teaching all along? No, he does none of those things. He absorbs the moment. He realizes that at the end of the dream you’re still just living life, and that you have to appreciate that. Joe isn’t wrong for pursuit of his dream. He’s not wrong for believing that hopes and dreams make life so much more worthwhile. He’s wrong in thinking that those dreams are all that define us, and that their realization is all that makes people themselves worthwhile at all.

And in the end - though I may be getting a bit too referential for this - the unexamined life is just so much less fulfilling than the alternative.

And all that a message and a half! It hits different. It’s mature as all heck. It’s something people my age (especially in my generation), twice my age, half my age never learn. It’s a callsign that sometimes Pixar is still make movies for the people who were kids way back when Toy Story was released, and are now insecure adults wondering why the world isn’t as wonderful as they saw on the screen. It’s brilliant. I said before that Joe interprets the “Spark” to be one’s purpose in life. The one thing that makes them who they are, that they are on the planet to do. He is wrong, absolutely and utterly. And in that misconception, when #22 finally does get their Spark just from being on Earth and seeing what its life, he accuses them of leeching self-actualization over his own personal ambitions, fully believing that they didn’t find a “purpose" on her own, but just copied his. But the Spark, as it turns out, is just the joy of living, the thing that makes people want to live. It can come from a dream, or just from watching the beauty of the sun set over a leaf drifting in the wind. Only in understanding this can Joe finally understand what he’s been missing in life, only then can he reconcile with #22 and help her finally be born, only then can he walk into the world and know how he’s going to live it.

We never find out what Joe decides, whether he goes back to teaching, or continues with the band. The choice is open to him, but we never find out which one he takes - another choice that keeps the aesop from falling apart. The point of all of that wasn’t that Joe has to do one thing or another to be happy, it was that Joe needs to be happy and secure in himself before he chooses what his life should be. Either of those could make him happy. Neither of those could. But now he’s in a much better place to see it, and do what he can.

We also never find out what #22 is like when she (or he, etc) is born. The two of them never meet past the point where #22 goes to Earth. Their time together has passed, and #22′s life is now their own. And that’s a great choice either. I’ve seen the occasional person feel that the choice made in this paragraph or noted in the previous one made the story confusing, but they’re ultimately what make the story what it is. The answer isn’t the necessity of resolution, its the reaffirmation of the journey. It reminds me somewhat of Wreck-It Ralph (an example of the main Disney Studio delivering a complex aesop, rather Pixar delivering them all), where being a villain wasn’t Ralph’s problem - it was that he wasn’t happy doing the thing he loved. You have to live, from living you will learn, and from learning you will do. The sheer incredible execution of this message (as you may have guessed, it’s a fairly difficult one to relay adequately in a film narrative, and the movie goes non-traditional in conclusion to maintain it) would have made this film a recommend for me even if it wasn't also beautifully animated, very well acted, funny (there’s a Knicks joke that floored me), heartwarming and relatable. But it’s also all of those things, so I have to recommend it twice as much. It is, regrettably, another movie with a black lead where the lead spends most of it transfigured into a form that’s not a black person (a soul, and then a cat), and I’ve already seen some grumbling that instead for much of it a character explicitly coded as a white woman is in his body instead, but I perceive that as an issue that’s endemic to the industry than a fault in this movie specifically. Everyone does that, but this is the only movie I’ve seen where doing that is an essential part of how the narrative develops the characters (Joe has to not be himself in order to understand his life from an outside perspective, a la Scrooge as a ghost watching his own history), and so I don’t scorn the movie for it. I, however, would very much like Hollywood to start doing that less, and - hey - as a prospective writer that’s one of those things I plan to do my part to combat. This movie, however, gets a pass in my book in ways that the general usage of this concept does not. In short, you should see it. If you get the chance to see it right now, you should take it to feel good at the end of this incredibly insane year. If you don’t want to have to sign up for Disney+ to see it now, I get you and understand, but if you get a chance to see it later do not pass it up. It’s one of the few movies I’ve watched that are an instant buy when it becomes available on digital - and the last time a movie did that for me was BlacKKKlansman. Whatever you choose to do, do it well. Keep the spirit alive, always keep searching for the real you - because it’s not always easy to find, but it’s worth looking for - and always remember that you could always have a little soul.

[silvysartfulness]

Writer meta asks: 3, 19, 20

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway) 

I already answered this one in another post - there’s no special such scene; if I want to write just a standalone scene I’ll do it as a one-shot and imply context and set-up in-writing. But there are scenes I look forward to writing; for the Roadtrip, a lot will go down and shift perspectives all around in the arc I mentally call the Mountains of Mist arc. That’s definitely a bit I have high hopes for!

... Technically the scene I’m supposed to be writing right now has also long been one of the “oh yeah, I’m really looking forward to this one!” bits, except now that I’m actually about to write it, I’m finding myself a bit frozen. Hopefully I’ll be able to push through this block and make it as good as I previously envisioned it...

Oh, no wait! To be honest - there are a few scenes I haven’t managed to find a good place for in the Roadtrip timeline yet, but have been very entertained by in headcanons, and that’s a fair number of WWX and XY interaction scenes!

I don’t know if I’ll manage to work things out enough in the story to make any of that fit, but I have a vivid image of WWX and XY literally bumping into each other at the market street of a random town while departing a liquor stall and candy stall respectively. XY is delighted by the chance meeting and toothily compliments WWX’s reflexes in catching the falling bottles, WWX is mostly “wtf how are you still not dead??” about things. If I can get the timeline to allow for it, it’s a scene I’d still love to write, but we’ll see.

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?) 

Ahaha. I suspect if you do a word count in my writing, you’ll see the word “pain” repeated at somewhat alarming frequency?

I like to describe body language, especially what people are doing with their hands. And eyes, I pay a lot of attention to eyes.

As for tropes, just stamp me with the “redemption arc” stamp and move on. I love, more than anything, characters who have to face their mistakes and go through a painstaking journey of sorting messes out, setting things right. Sometimes willfully, out of a genuine desire to make things better. Sometimes reluctantly or even trying not to, only sullenly agreeing in the end for one well-founded reason or another.

I love to write messy characters, greyscales, heart wrenching situations where both sides are equally wrong and right. Am also absolute sucker for “hard, cold-hearted character, absolutely coming apart at gestures of care and kindness”. That gets me every single time.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Uh-oh. You've done it now. I'll place the rest under a cut, because I can and will talk about this at length.

I already wrote in a previous post about the layers of meaning in my chapter titles, so I'll leave that aside for now.

I love using symbolism and allegories in my writing. There are some obvious ones at first glance – I often refer to Xiao Xingchen as the moon himself, especially from Xue Yang’s point of view (the moon has been one of the few proxies for Xiao Xingchen he’s had for a long time) His inner light, something with beauty and integrity but also phases of both light and dark and the ability to shift inbetweeen, unreadable. The same way I will often use ice and frost to describe Song Lan - ”he realized with frostbite clarity” is a sentence I remember that I liked writing for him.

Xue Yang isn't as clear cut; his themes shifts depending on the pov character – Song Lan thinks of him as serpent-like, and there's a wolf-theme coming up as well. But my main subtle motif for Xue Yang in this story is the tiger. Drawn partly from the obvious angle of him being able to create a Yin Tiger Amulet of his own, as well as wearing clothing with a leopard-spot like pattern in Yi City, and finally Wei Wuxian's comment of ”releasing the tiger back to the mountain” when learning Xue Yang escaped punishment for the Chang massacre. In Chinese animal symbolism, the tiger is the king of beasts, something very powerful and clever, but also unreliable, prone to lash out.

In one of the first chapters, Xue Yang is described as being ”bound with enough ropes and knots to subdue a tiger” and there are many references to the Yin Tiger Amulet throughout. I drew him and Song Lan as shishi statues in the illustration for chapter 7, feline guardians of the dead that can be interpreted as lions but also tigers. So that's a semi-secret theme. :)

Another layer of symbolism is the Daoist philosophy sprinkled throughout. Sometimes directly, through outright quotes, but often more subtly in how Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan relate to the world and other people.

”Take action by letting things take their course, he reminded himself. The more he hurried, the longer it would take to get where he was going. He could be patient. Would be.”

”He smiled again, grateful for the understanding, for the simplicity, patience, compassion.”

“An empty patch on the ground,” he signed. “We'll make the future a spot where nothing is yet growing.” “An empty spot, where the Universe may plant a seed,” he finished. Song Lan nodded, made the softest hum of agreement.

“Now, now - haven't you heard, Song-daozhang?” he giggled, unsteadily, hauled along in unceremonious jerks. “Treat those who are kind with kindness, but also treat those who are not kind with kindness, only thus is kindness obtaine-... ow.” ← Xue Yang is not above throwing their teachings in their faces for his own benefit, either.

Another thing I enjoy writing is how Xiao Xingchen will very easily fall into familiarity with both Song Lan and Xue Yang when he interacts with them, but they're two very different kinds of familiarity, and he's often not at all aware himself that he's doing it. (They are. Especially the party not currently being interacted with, glaring daggers at the other.) He often just... assumes they'll do a certain thing, and they'll automatically find themselves doing it.

They are both utterly dedicated to him, though they may not realize it themselves, and he certainly doesn't. He doesn't want to take anything for granted with Song Lan, and he doesn't dare trust Xue Yang, but in the little moments of thoughtlessness, they'll just accidentally fall into old familiar roles of attachment, and then blink awake, surprised and disturbed at the ease of it. ♥

I also find it delightful how Xue Yang absolutely despises Song Lan, but is still ready and willing to rope him into herding Xiao Xingchen when necessary - and Song Lan will grudgingly follow his lead, to a point. They may not like it, but they do have a goal in common in keeping their person safe.

There is a certain point to the fact that Xue Yang mostly only mentally refers to a-Qing as ”the girl” in his mind. Nothing quite as strong as actual remorse, but it's a slightly chafing subject he does avoid thinking about. She wasn't supposed to die - hurt, yes, be punished for her perceived part in the destruction of their happy home, but not die - and now that Xiao Xingchen is back, it is odd, at times, that she isn't there as well.

Finally - have some teasers for future written chapters! The apples of the merchant in Tanzhou will make a reappearance, as will the beggar girl by the gate. Xue Yang will write Song Lan a heartfelt poem in an upcoming chapter. Song Lan is made to promise to write a couple of old ladies letters. Xiao Xingchen performs emotional manipulation so badly it offers the other two an unexpected moment of bonding. Xue Yang slips and does an unprompted Good Deed and instantly regrets it. (it does help when Xiao Xingchen smiles at him.)

There are more themes of foreshadowing in there, but I also don't want to spoil things, so I'l leave it at this for now.

As always, if anyone has any specific questions about the Roadtrip, please feel free to ask! I may evade if it's spoilery, but 99.9% of the time, I'll happily flail for hours about this story – and it helps keeping me inspired and writing, too! ♥♥♥

[linkspooky]

Pls... your top ten nisioisin characters... i love your lists...

I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT  HOW MUCH I LOVE MY FAVES. IF YOU EVER ASK WANT TO ASK ME WHO MY FAVES ARE FOR A SERIES FEEL FREE TO SEND ME AN ASK.

My favorite thing about Niosisin’s characters is how genuinely subversive they are. Not in the sense that he’s deconstructing tropes, but rather these are characters who would never get their story told in most other books, because they are not good, or righteous. Nisioisin breathes life into them, and allows those who cannot be forgiven, those who are deviant, those who have dropped out of society to still remain human. He tells their stories the same as everybody else, because their lives are just as fun. 

1. Even if I’m hated, Even if I’m Despised - Kumagawa Misogi 

He’s only my favorite character of all time so I’ve talked about him on this blog before, but let me find something new to say. Oh Kumagawa, how do I love thee, let me count the ways. Or maybe it’s Oh Kumagawa, how do I despise thee let me count the ways. 

Kumagawa’s character is so interesting because it’s written in antithesis of everything a shonen protagonist is. For Kumagawa, his determination just makes him fail worse and worse. His desire to be involved and help people always guarantees the worst result for the people he wants to call his friends. His empathy is extremely painful for him, and is a trait that drives him insane rather than making him a kind and loving person. 

A lot of time in manga empathy is like, a magic fix-it-all bandaid that basically makes the main character a saint by being able to emotionally relate to anybody. Kumagawa is the reality of that situation. He is empathic, and by relating so much to the humans around him he shows how ugly, and messy human emotions can really be. Recovery and saving others isn’t necessarily a beautiful thing, it’s complicated and sloppy. 

Kumagawa is a character where getting stronger won’t solve any of his problems. Which is what happens in a lot of shonen manga, rather than trying to emotionally mature the main character will just learn a new fighting technique and develop that way. Instead, Kumagawa winning fights means absolutely nothing. The only thing that can free him is to grow up as a person, and the fact that Kumagawa’s arc is given equal weight to both of the main characters shows how accepting of weirdoes and broken off beat characters Nisioisin is as an author. 

What I like about him is how genuinely broken he is, but not for monstrous reasons but for entirely human ones. It’s his genuine care for others that breaks him the most. He’s a character written to be insane, but also geniunely human. Kumagawa is not able to live properly, or even act like the main character like Zenkichi and Medaka are but he’s still able to find his own way to live. 

2. I don’t feel any reality from you people - Ajimu Najimi 

“Genius who is super good at everything, but is secretly sad and lonely on the inside” is a pretty common Nisioisin trope. It tends to be pretty hit and miss with me, but it also resulted in one of my favorite characters of all time. I tend to like these types of characters more when they’re allowed to be… what’s the word… unlikable. When the story isn’t trying to go on about how cool they are.

The reason why I love Ajimu is because she is just like Kumagawa, a subversion of the character you expect her to be. The same way Kumagawa suverts Zenkichi in a way, Ajimu subverts Medaka. The same way that Medaka is all loving, Ajimu is indifferent to absolutely everything. The reason she’s able to be kind to everyone around her is because she genuinely doesn’t care about you. Her real personality when not being apathetic, is to just be downright nasty and look down on absolutely everything. 

She’s completely self absorbed because according to Ajimu she’s the only one who exists in the universe. She’s the only one she knows for sure is real. The opposite of Kumagawa, a character entirely lacking in empathy, not even thinking of herself as human in any sense of the word. Ajimu acts like she knows everything in the story like she’s reading off of the script, but that’s because she literally thinks that everything in this world is fiction and she’s literally breaking the fourth wall.

And my favorite part about Ajimu is that the story doesn’t glorify her meta fourth wall shenanigans. She’s not treated as someone who sees through everything in the end. She’s just pathetic, and suicidal, and dragging everybody else along into her trillion year long self pity party. She’s more of a human failure than someone who can’t possibly empathize with humans, and that’s why I love her. 

3. There ain’t no meaning, got it? - Ii (Boku) 

Ii-chan is the narrator of Nisioisin’s first ever series, Zaregoto (Lit. Nonsense). It’s not really until the second book you get a grasp of his character, but Strangulation Romanticist does such an excellent job of setting up who he is as a person. This is another one of Nisioisin’s character types (narrator who feels ennui, and really, really doesn’t want to be a person). 

What’s great about Iichan is that he is special in a way. Just like he’s described in the books, when he’s thrown into situations everything goes a little bit crazy. He always gets dragged into mysteries, and has people die around him even though he tries to stay as uninvolved with people as possible. He’s actually a great look at what a character constantly caught up in murder mysteries like the main character of a detective novel would actually act like. He has this deep rambling narration that sways between nihilism and existentialism that makes him a really unique character to read about.

But at the same time Iichan is also kind of a normal dude. And I don’t mean in the sense that he’s an everyman, or has no personality, but he kind of just feels like one. The great twist of No Longer Human is that Yozo isn’t some inhuman monster, he’s just kind of a normal guy who drowns out his misery by taking advantage of women. Like, it’s not all that uncommon. The same thing with Iichan, as poetic as he gets he’s kind of a very petty person and most of his flaws are very mundane ones. 

It’s basically very hard to care about other people in this world. Ii-chan doesn’t want to at all, he just wants to have all of his emotional needs fulfilled by the friend he both infantilizes and puts on a pedestal. He’s just super clingy about the one relationship he has in life, because he’s afraid of losing it, but he’s also afraid of being close to her. Ii-chan is just kind of a normal person reacting badly to trauma, but he presents himself as such a mystery that most people lose sight of that (in story). He’s kind of just petty and annoying, and that’s why I love him. 

4. No Longer Human - Hitoshiki Zerozaki

Zerozaki is Iichan’s greatest character foil. Basically the best way to describe it is Zerozaki is Mersault. The flip that is switched on for everyone that prevents them from killing someone when the idea crosses their mind is turned off for Zerozaki, and so he kills. He doesn’t enjoy it, he doesn’t have a particular reason to it, he just can’t overcome his impulse to kill. If Ii-chan is restrained, then Zerozaki never restrains any of his impulses at all and lives following only those. 

Once again this is another common Nisioisin character archetype “A murder, but they’re sad and lonely.” What I like about Hitoshiki is how much of a deviant he is to that archetype. 

He wants a friend and somebody who understands him, but at the same time he hates himself so he doesn’t want anybody too close. He lives in a family of murderers and he’s somehow the rebellious child of the family. He’s constantly running away and wandering from place to place. What makes Zerozaki interesting is how self aware he is about all of this too. He rambles his thoughts and will just be like “Yeah, so anyway that’s totally fucked up (LOL).” 

 5. Is your life dramatic - Kaiki Deishuu

Kaiki is a character who I admire for his philosophy above all else. He’s another one of those “deviant” characters like Kumagawa who would just be a villain to be defeated in any other narrative, but in this one he gets fully fleshed out as a character. 

What’s interesting about Kaiki is that he chooses exactly the way he lives. He decides to be a villain. Kaiki at some point sees through most of the lies of the people around them, and for how meaningless the things that you are told have value can be. He hates holding onto ideas like those.

But that doesn’t mean that Kaiki rejects everything. He doesn’t claim to see above society, or that he’s not a part of society. Rather, Kaiki just uses that awareness to realize he can give meaning to whatever he personally finds meaningful. Because it’s all meaningless anyway, as a human being he can create his own meaning. 

So his want of money is not just simple greed, it’s what he’s decided to live for. Kaiki is an adult who willingly chose to become a conman because he finds that’s his place in society. He just doesn’t trust himself enough to be kind despite feeling the same desire to save others, so he decided to lie to them and trick them instead. 

6. “I don’t know anything, you’re the one who knows” Oshino Ougi

Ougi is just interesting conceptually. They are literally Araragi’s own shadow, running away from him and given form and consciousness of their own. While Ougi themselves works as a common Jungian shadow archetype calling characters out for what they are repressing and also revealing the bare faced truth to them, which is why they are so heavily associated with mirrors, lights, and shadows. 

My favorite part about Ougi however is not their connection to Araragi. It’s when Ougi starts to become their own character. An oddity with consciousness that begins to deviate from what they were made for, because they were allowed to live on their own.

Ougi did not become a fave of mine until Zoku because that was when they started to self reflect and realize their own strange existence separate to Araragi. The conversation scene with Araragi is one of my favorite in the whole series because it shows how Ougi is just a genuine tease, and a very clever and insightful person. That’s who they are, outside of just being an oddity that exists to criticize others and call out flaws. They’re ridiculous, and a little strange, and they enjoy screwing with other’s heads and messing around a bit too much. But Ougi Oshino is Ougi Oshino. 

It’s just an interesting concept, to have to define who you are as a person when you were created out of all of the unwanted qualities, and insecurities of another person. 

7. Why are you touching me without permission, you weed - Yasuri Nanami

Nanami is another one of those “I’m a genius and I’m good at everything but I’m secretly sad” characters, and once again what I love about her is how unlikable she’s allowed to be. None of what Nanami is capable of comes off as cool for very long. She’s basically framed and treated as a horror movie monster, always speaking in the same monotone voice. The one story that shows her true nature in chapter four is literally, paced, framed, exactly like a slasher movie with characters being hunted down and killed one by one. 

Nanami’s just this horrible wretched existence that doesn’t even want to be alive. She basically acts like frankenstein’s monster, ie, the one in the book. She’s just this corpse that is barely even alive in the first place, constantly sick and in pain, and she’s also at war with herself. The part of her that wants to die and the part of her that’s lonely and wants to find some reason to live, or some connection in life are constantly at war with each other. 

And as horrifying as Nanami is she also feels like the most human of Niosisin’s, super-genius characters. She’s riddled with weaknesses and flaws. She lashes out when he’s in pain, she felt bad when her parents told her to die. You get the sense that Nanami’s super genius isn’t what drove her insane at all, it was just how everybody around her treated her as some thing that was not human. Isolation made her this way. She was conditioned to act this way not born inhuman. There are characters that Nisioisin writes that are genuine sociopaths (as in the trope of an unfeeling person unable to feel human emotions), but Nanami is not one of them and so when she starts acting with sociopathic-traits in her personality it makes her all the more painfully human because we see how she’s been driven slowly to act this way. 

7. *Yawns* Nezumi

Juuni Taisen is one of those death game stories where every character is defined by their one gimmick and written around their concept. In the original novel each character really only gets one chapter to be fleshed out as a character. I half suspect Nisioisin wrote it as a dare to himself on how much he could accomplish with one chapter.

The interesting part about Nezumi is his concept again. He can redo anything 100 times. You think this would make him amazing at anything in life because of his time loop ability, but physically having to live through all of those time loops exhausts him to the point that he’s too tired to do anything. You would think he could get anything he wanted out of life, but there are times he can ask a girl out one hundred times and get rejected one hundred different ways. 

Nezumi is interesting because of how quietly he lives. There’s nothing he really wants out of life, and nothing he wishes for, like a rat he just scurries and survives. 

9. I am currently being accused by everyone - Kakushidate Yakusuke

The same as Iichan and Kumagawa, Yakusuke is a guy who is just cursed by constant bad luck. What I like about Yakusuke is that he’s a full fleshed out character, instead of just an unlucky every dude protagonist.

He’s a contract worker who is constantly shifting between jobs. Due to this fact he’s got like 1,000 skills that he gained on his various jobs. He’s not smart, but because he’s experienced so much of life he’s incredibly resourceful. Which is why he makes a perfect counterpart and foil to Okitegami.

Yakusuke’s everyday life is him constantly being accused and blamed, and falling from one bad situation to the next. But, he has so much experiences that it’s what draws Okitegami to him who can only ever experience one day at a time because her memories will reset at the end of the day. He’s exactly my type of man, a total failure at all walks of life.

10. This is your last chance, let me make you happy! - Kugi Kizutaka

He’s so low on the list because his story “Magical Girl Ritsuka” only has one chapter published in english, but he’s so interesting he instantly became a fave. He’s actually a concept i have been looking for for a long time, which is basically what I describe as “Reverse Junko Enoshima.” 

Basically someone as smart and manipulative as Junko Enoshima, who can make anybody into their toy, and predict things years in advance and control everything, but instead of using that power to send the world to despair, they use that power to give the world hope instead. Not out of any genuine good will or because they’re a good person, but because they’re obsessed with the idea of giving people happiness the same way Junko is with sending people to despair. 

Kugi is a lot like that. He’s a genius ten year old who sees everybody for their potential to be used, and looks down on absolutely everyone around him. He’s made contact with a magical girl, because he’s pretty clearly planning on using her to enslave the world to him, so he can force everybody to be happy. And it’s absolutely adorable. He’s just such a genuine terrible little person while at the same time wanting to make everyone happy. 

[laissezferre]

theatre review: phantom of the opera, manila cast: jonathan roxmouth, meghan picerno, matt leisy

jonathan roxmouth as the phantom

jonathan roxmouth's phantom would best be described as "the phantom that you would get if you poured pepper labeled 'joj' and salt labeled 'ramin' in a single shaker, shook it til the control of one and the style of another mixed together, and pulled the cap so it could spew out something truly incredible". jonathan's voice is powerful and overwhelming but always in control. not a note was out of place. there were multiple points in the show when i just thought, "this is ridiculous, this is so good". he handles the role, at least vocally, with such care and control. he goes from booming to soothing and vice versa without much preparation, and he pulls it off. and i haven't even talked about his vibrato. after "music of the night", i just knew--this character, this tour, and the future of this show, is in good hands.

between singing and acting, jonathan is very much a singer. even when he's supposed to be screaming--or at parts when most phantoms have resorted to screaming--he's still singing, he's still holding that note.

jonathan's phantom and meghan's christine have a palpable chemistry. unlike my first viewing with carla and ian as the leads, jonathan's phantom gives raoul a run for his money. it's not exactly lnd-levels, but the phantom this time around had better chances. he really uses his height to loom over christine, and christine's reaction to him is this odd mix of fascination and terror.

if i have to have one gripe about jonathan, it would be his vulnerability, or lack thereof. the phantom acts so powerful in act 1, and i don't think he ever really got off that pedestal for act 2.  i felt like his energy and commitment fizzled out in act 2, and he was kind of going through the motions. while i was watching jonathan, i kept remembering ian jon bourg's phantom, and how he looked so utterly depleted by the end. ian was large but he looked so small when he curled in on himself, he didn't have anything more to give. i didn't feel that way about jonathan. my reaction towards him was more of "i'm sorry you didn't get the girl", instead of "i'm sorry these were the cards you were dealt, i'm sorry you've been alone for so long, i'm sorry you've never felt love".

meghan picerno as christine daae

i really love how meghan picerno thinks as she acts. you can almost see the speech bubbles floating above her head as the scene goes. every line has a corresponding expression on her face, and it's not the amateur acting kind, it's more of being always in the moment. right off the bat, you know that she's an intelligent christine. in the hannibal rehearsal when the backdrop falls and everyone's panicking, she stays very still while looking around the stage, thinking, assessing--and you get the feeling that christine daae has a good idea about who's fooling around in the opera house.

meghan puts that same thoughtfulness when it comes to her singing. everything has an intention behind it. her singing improves rapidly in "think of me", but when she gets to the cadenza she becomes uncertain, feels it out, and then goes for the money note. meghan has a solid range--her singing has power, and she's also able to tap that lower register to create solid low notes. i've also never heard "my soul began to soar" so sweetly. both meghan and jonathan are versatile and can sing powerfully when it's called for, and add variation when needed. sometimes though, the experimentation doesn't go very well. "wishing you were somehow here again" was a mix of singing, exclaiming, and gasping. just as you would get into the melody, she sing-speaks, and then breathes at unnatural points in the song.  i guess it would boil down to people's preferences and their tolerance for  "musical expression", but that part didn't work for me.

meghan wasn't kidding when she said in interviews that she wanted to portray christine as strong. she is so aggressive! matt leisy's raoul plays off of her, and because they're both imposing, it sometimes looks like they're well on their way to a domestic. in the rooftop scene, christine dominates the conversation. raoul is trying to comfort her and convince her it's not real, but christine is having none of it. her gestures were screaming "believe me! i'm not crazy!", and i genuinely thought that they were gonna have a row. this forcefulness doesn't just apply to raoul or to the phantom, it also applies to her father. normally in "wishing", christine sings about how she misses her father, but with meghan, i got the impression that she was frustrated and was beating herself up for still missing her father.

also, it may just be me reading into it too much, but i feel like meghan's christine doesn't take well to being comforted. she'll receive comfort, she'll allow herself to be patted and petted, but there will be no visible relief in the set of her shoulders. this kind of makes her seem cold, especially with raoul. in fact, christine doesn't even look at raoul much in the dressing room. instead, she's facing the audience as she reminisces about her childhood--this leads me to think that meghan's christine doesn't start out already smitten with raoul. the falling in love comes later in "all i ask of you" and christine becomes a very eager kisser and audibly sighs into the kiss.

meghan isn't a particularly graceful or playful christine. she's very serious and at times, physically rigid on stage. in il muto, i wanted badly to shake her and tell her, "girl, loosen up, you're supposed to be playing in a comedy". also, meghan didn't join the dancers in hannibal, and the few steps she did looked stiff. i don't know how much of her stiffness is intentional, if it's a manifestation of her fear of the phantom, because she really is terrified of the phantom to the point of paralysis. she's utterly terrified in the rooftop, in the masquerade, in "twisted every way"--in all those scenes there were moments where she bends over and becomes non-responsive to raoul's attempts at comfort.

but despite her fear, she's still able to go head-to-head with the phantom. she snaps and answers him angrily in the final lair. when she sang "it's in your soul that the true distortion lies", i thought she would follow with a growl. when she shields raoul from the phantom, they stare each other down, which is a sight to see because of their height difference, but she gives as good as she's got. she does soften a bit when the phantom allows them to leave. raoul is pulling her to go but she resists repeatedly--not in a “let me spend more time with him" way but in a "we can't leave him here!" way. while there was no chance that she was going to stay with the phantom, she still couldn’t help but be concerned for him.

matt leisy as raoul de chagny

i first saw matt leisy's raoul when he was sharing the stage with ian jon bourg and clara verdier, and i have to say, his portrayal there is startingly different from when he acts with meghan and jonathan. this time, his raoul is less commanding and more floundering. you can see how he's not in control of the situation and how frustrated he is for always being one step behind the phantom. this is not the calm, in-control, dignified raoul that we know. he's absolutely out of his depth and he's pissed. he's not whiny, but you can tell he's rattled. in "notes ii" when christine is already sitting on the chair and he's convincing her to be the bait, he's almost begging her, like it's him who will lose his mind if this doesn't end. and when christine refuses, he angrily goes off at the phantom.

despite that intensity, he never roughhouses christine, but it is sad to see that christine doesn't actively seek his comfort. that's why their "all i ask of you" isn't as dreamy and romantic. while christine does love raoul, it's the phantom who's able to evoke stronger reactions from her (more fear than desire, but still), and it's very much clear that this is christine and the phantom's show. matt, and his voice, disappears in the background. in "wandering child" when all three leads are on stage together, you can really feel that raoul is the third wheel in the scene, and his words are barely heard.

in "final lair" when christine kisses the phantom, matt's raoul looks away and closes his eyes, like he can't bear to see the love of his life kissing another man. i usually check where the phantom puts his hands during the kiss, but matt's turning away was so striking that i just had to look at him.

some other things

overall, i really liked this production and noticed a few things that i wasn't able to because i was sitting nearer this time. the broadway costumes are absolutely gorgeous. i really love the softness of the pink in the star princess costume. this is also the first time i paid attention to carlotta's hannibal skirt--it's as intricately designed as christine's and i prefer it's red-black-gold combination.

i zoned out during notes i and prima donna but don't i always.

there are also some cute blink-and-you-miss it moments. when christine is asked to sing, monsieur reyer is displeased and thinks they’re wasting time. when he says "from the beginning of the aria then", he shows christine the score and when she looks, he snaps it closed in her face. but after the performance, he is seen chatting with christine and he kisses her hand as he exits.

in the don juan rehearsal, christine and piangi also have a moment. when piangi is being scolded for not getting the melody right, christine mouths to him "you can do it". i'm not sure if piangi acknowledges it, but christine goes back to facing meg.

so... yeah, that’s how my evening went. this is the fourth time now that i’ve seen poto, and it’s just as magical as the first time i saw it seven years ago. there are classics, and there is poto, and there’s a reason that it’s managed to run as long as it has on broadway (les mis, i love u, but u have strayed from the path, padawan). it just has a strong sense of identity and no amount of watered down touring shows is going to misplace the brilliant original. the future of poto is bright, and with this cast, it is in good hands.

have a look at my other review: ian jon bourg, clara verdier, matt leisy

[fatechica]

together, you and i ch.9 sneak peek

right, because y’all asked nicely, here’s a sneak peek of ch. 9.

(i mean, is ‘sneak peek’ even the right term anymore? probs not because it’s 1.6k excerpt because i’m a little tipsy and have no control)

(so you’re welcome)

El smiles, completely unable to contain it, and takes a few slow steps into the classroom, the heels of her boots clacking against the tile floor. She can feel the exaggerated sway of her hips, feeling powerful and sexy after their morning together. Smug satisfaction blossoms inside of her when she sees Mike’s gaze drop to watch the motion, his own lips pulling up in a smile when he looks back up at he face. “Good morning,” she says, eyebrow arching flirtatiously.

Mike’s smile grows wider. “It is a good morning.” He pauses, one of his own eyebrows mirroring hers. “A really good morning.” His voice dips with those last words, low and husky and knowing.

Good god, how are they supposed to contain this at work? How are they supposed to be in the same room together and not look, sound, exist like they want each other?

El’s not sure, not sure at all. But, until they figure it out….

El moves closer to his lab table, watching as Mike moves so he’s leaning against it, forearms propped against the surface, the look on his face curious and hungry. The move emphasizes the long, graceful lines of his torso, his shirt pulling taut against the width of his shoulders, the lean musculature of his biceps. His hands clasp lightly in front of him, long, graceful fingers loosely woven together, and El glances down at them, shivering as she remembers. God, those fingers….

El smiles like the cat who got the canary as she holds up the note, wrist rotated so she can show him the words written on the paper, knuckles pressed against her sternum. “So, someone left me this note on my office door.”

Mike ducks his head, breathing out an amused laugh. He looks back up, tossing his hair out of his eyes, and El almost fucking loses it. “Must be quite a guy to leave you such a cryptic note.”

“Mmm, yes, quite the tease he is, too. A girl might get her hopes up, with such an open-ended promise,” El says, biting the inside of her lip to keep her smiling to merely wide instead of face-breaking.

Mike’s laugh grows into a amused chuckle as he shakes his head. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we? A guy like this should be all about keeping his promises.”

El can’t help it: she giggles. “A guy like this should know that girls, especially this one, love nothing more than the...satisfaction of a promise kept.”

Mike’s other eyebrow joins its twin. “Satisfaction, huh?” he asks, straightening to his full height. “Well then, this guy should follow through on his promise. Dissatisfaction is such an ugly thing, after all.” The grin on his face is so shit-eating, so smug, El itches to kiss it off his lips.

El stands in front of the lab table and slowly slides the note across to him with a dainty index finger. “Give up the goods, Wheeler.” God, how is this her voice, all breathy and teasing and happy? How is it that she feels so untethered and jubilant? How is it that Mike makes her feel like this with no effort at all?

And then Mike winks, fucking winks at her as he takes the paper out from under her hold, folding it easily in his fingers, before he gestures at her with it. “I know better than to keep a lady waiting. C’mon, it’s in my office.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m a lady,” El murmurs as she follows right behind him, snickering at the way he stumbles a bit.

“Watch it, Hopper,” Mike tosses over his shoulder as he regains his equilibrium, words equally as hushed.

Mike’s office is a long, narrow room that partly acts as storage for various physics and chemistry equipment, as well as some of the more dangerous chemicals, door off to one side with the rest of the space leading off to the left from it. The door is thick to prevent someone from easily breaking in, and El can’t help but think that it would also act as a great barrier to prevent sound from leaking out into the main classroom. Which means now she can’t stop thinking about how she would love to take advantage of those sound-proofing qualities.

Down girl, she tells herself, trying to keep a lid on the hormones that swirl madly in her veins.

Mike walks over to his desk, El hot on his heels, like she’s magnetically drawn to him. And when he reaches his desk, both of them completely out of view, he whirls around, face lit up with intent. El watches as Mike spares half a second to check behind her shoulder before he pulls her towards him, one hand on her hip and the other sliding into her hair as he leans down. El meets him halfway, their lips meeting in a kiss that sets her on fire, her own hand coming up to cradle his head, her fingers tangling among the strands she wanted to touch so badly just moments ago.

It’s a quick kiss - quick and hot, just indecent, all open mouths and caressing tongues, hands desperately clutching at one another as their bodies curve into each other. Every fiber of El’s being sings with his closeness, heartbeat exploding in her chest like fireworks in the night sky. And it takes all of her fortitude to hold back the whimpering moan that builds in her throat, her blood boiling with desire that overtakes her so fast, it makes her dizzy.

El doesn’t just want him, she needs him, needs him like she needs air, like he’s crucial for her very survival. It’s a need that’s crawled under her skin, making everything tingle, her skin feeling tight and aching.

And, just as quick as the kiss starts, it ends, both of them breaking apart with a suddenness that makes her dizzy. They both take a partial step back, breathing hard with barely restrained desire. “Holy shit,” Mike says, just above a whisper, sounding ragged and breathless like he did in bed earlier that morning.

El lets out a shaky sigh, almost whimpering, nodding in what she can only describe as commiseration. “I know,” she says. She brings her hands to press the backs of them against her cheeks, her knuckles cool against her heated skin.

Mike runs a trembling hand almost frantically through his hair and the way he’s looking at her, gaze dark and needy, makes her gasp, her teeth pulling in her lower lip to restrain herself from kissing him again. Only the move draws Mike’s eyes down and he lets out a groan. “Ok, you’re not allowed to bite your lip like that.” He sounds just shy of manic - overwhelmed - and Mike reaches out, palm cupping her jaw, to run his thumb across her lips, pulling her lower lip from between her teeth

El lets out a quiet moan, eyes slipping shut as sparks light up along her skin at his touch. Still, she cracks a small smile as she opens her eyes. “Why, too tempting?”

“Let’s just say it really makes me resent not having us both call in sick today,” Mike says.

A shudder runs through El’s body and she takes a brief moment to live in the feeling, stomach swooping like she’s just jumped off a cliff, before she tries to rein herself in. “So, is this what you had to give me?” she asks, her hand coming up so she can rest her palm on the back of Mike’s hand, still holding her cheek.

Mike laughs and pulls his hand from her skin, fingers trembling a bit, a tremble that El’s own hand echoes. “Actually, it’s not. I just couldn’t resist.”

“Well, don’t stop yourself on my account,” El says, grinning.

“If I don’t, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

El giggles. “Hmm, you make it sound like you find me irresistible.”

Mike gives her a dry look that helps cut through the naked desire between them. “Gee, you think?” he says as he turns around, reaching for something on his desk. And, when he turns around, he’s brandishing a medium-sized paper coffee cup and a brown pastry bag. “This is what I have for you,” he says, smiling proudly, all boyish and adorable and, god she loves him.

“Again?” El asks even as she’s reaching for the items, relieved. She had time to gulp down a partial mug of coffee as she got ready, but she wasn’t able to eat anything. She would have been fine - and, all things considered, giving up breakfast in exchange for what she did get this morning is a trade she would make over and over again - but she’s not going look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. Besides, she could really use more caffeine anyway.

“Well, I said I would buy you breakfast since I kept you longer than originally agreed upon,” Mike says, eyes flashing with heat with why she was late leaving his house that morning.

“Well, thank you, kind sir,” El says, heart fluttering dangerously in her chest. “Walk me to my office? You have few minutes before Advising Block starts.”

“I would be honored to,” Mike says.

[sushigirlali]

Some Like It Hot (Reylo Fanfic)

Happy @reyloveweek​ 2018!! 💙❤️

Day 5: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop 

Day 1 /  Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7

——————

Some Like It Hot

By: sushigirlali

——————

Ben Solo stared at the espresso machine in front of him blankly, thinking about a pair of pretty eyes instead of the task at hand. Good thing he could make a latte in his sleep at this point, having worked in his uncle’s cozy downtown café for the last three years.

Not that everyone was pleased the heir to Solo Shipping was content to work in the service industry, Ben thought wryly. He loved his parents, but after a disastrous trial run right out of college, Ben was reluctant to join the family business. Working at Luke’s had been a welcome alternative all those years ago, and he was in no hurry to go back.

Skillfully pouring just the right amount of milk into a metal pitcher before applying the steam wand, Ben’s mind slipped back to Rey Niima, a pretty sophomore at the local community college who had become a regular of the small coffee shop over the last six months.

He still remembered looking up from the cash register into her bright hazel eyes for the first time, her smile lighting up the dimly lit room. He had taken her order in a daze, barely able to keep his eyes off her, committing her elfin face to memory in the likely scenario that he would never see her again.

But then she had come back the next day, and then the one after that, drawing him deeper under her spell with each visit. He recalled thinking it wasn’t normal for him to feel this way about a girl he had just met, but as the weeks wore on, and he got to know more and more about her, Ben was forced to accept the fact that, for better or worse, he was completely infatuated with the mechanical engineering major from Jakku.

Not that he had acted on his feelings, however. Besides being a good ten years younger than him, Rey also had a boyfriend that often tagged along when she stopped by the café. Ben didn’t begrudge Finn his good fortune, the guy was just too damn likeable to hate, but he still wished Rey was single and as interested in him as he was in her.

Ben knew his terminal crush was pathetic for a guy his age, but even now, after months of fruitless pining, she was all he could think about, distracting him from his hobbies, friends, and a thousand other things he couldn’t seem to remember right—

“Shit!” He swore as steam rose over the brim of the pitcher he’d been handling, scalding his knuckles.

Oh, yeah. His job. She was distracting him from that too.

“Ben, pay attention!” Rose scolded him from the register. “Luke will be pissed if you break the machine again.”

“Sorry, Rose.” He muttered, quickly pouring the hot milk into a mocha and espresso filled paper cup before topping it with whipped cream and a plastic lid.

This was getting out of hand, Ben thought, trying to focus on what he was doing instead of the girl with the bewitching smile. But just as he placed the completed latte on the bar and called out the recipient’s name, Rey breezed through the door in a white crop top and denim cutoffs, and Ben was lost all over again.

“Hey, Rose? Can you work the line for a bit? I think I burned my hand pretty badly.” Ben said with a straight face.

Rose rolled her eyes as she followed his gaze, but she switched spots with him all the same. “You owe me one, Solo.” 

——————

Rey dropped her bag at her favorite table before heading toward the register, trying not to look Ben up and down as she approached. Really, it should be a crime to look that good in a canary yellow apron!

“Hi, Ben!” She greeted warmly.

“Hello, Rey.” Ben replied, his deep voice never failing to send shivers up her spine. “How are you?”

“Doing well.” Rey smiled at the familiar question. Ben hated small talk as a rule, but he always inquired about her wellbeing before taking her order. “You?”

“Better now that my favorite customer is here.” Ben said amiably.

Rey chewed her lip as she processed his statement. Was he joking? Or was he flirting? Per usual, he was so cool and collected that it was hard to tell. She had to figure out a way to get him to open up, to give her some kind of hint about his true feelings and—

“No Finn today?” He probed when she didn’t respond.

“Oh, uh, he had to stay after class to speak with his professor, so he told me to go ahead.” Rey explained, snapping back to reality. “Why? Did you two have a date planned later or something?” She teased.

“What? No!” Ben denied. “I’m not into guys. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Just…I’m not, okay?”

“I was just kidding, Ben.” Rey laughed, downplaying her curiosity.

Rey had known Ben for almost six months, and had been pursuing him just as long, but she was running out of excuses for why he hadn’t responded in kind. She’d been starting to fear that he wasn’t attracted to women at all, but was relieved to know they were in the same ball park at least.

Ben cleared his throat. “So, the usual? Large, extra hot caramel macchiato with soy milk?”

“Just a coffee for me today, thanks, I’m trying to—Ben, what happened?!” Rey exclaimed as she noticed the red mark running across the pale skin of his knuckles.

“It’s nothing, I was just distracted while steaming some milk and…and…uh...” Ben trailed off as Rey took his large hand into hers, unable to resist the desire to comfort him.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to get you anything? A bandage? Or some ice?” Rey enquired softly.

Ben shook his head as she ran her thumb over the burn in a gentle caress. Her eyebrows shot up when he trembled slightly in response, a dull flush blooming across his high cheekbones. Rey wondered at the effect her touch seemed to have on him, and she felt the sudden urge to bring Ben’s knuckles to her lips, to sooth the small injury as much as to test his reaction, but a delicate cough broke the spell before she could give into the impulse.

Rey hastily pulled back as Rose looked everywhere but at them, while Ben’s hand hung between them for a moment before he came to his senses as well.

“I—um—what was it you wanted again, Rey?” Ben asked gruffly.

Just you, Rey thought, wishing they were alone.

“Just a medium coffee, please, with cream and two sugars.” She said out loud, her voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

“Coming right up.” He said, turning to face the dispenser on the back counter.

As Ben deftly poured coffee into a medium sized ceramic cup, Rey admired the way his tight black pants hugged his long legs. His considerable height had been the first thing she’d noticed about him, Rey recalled, thinking back to her first visit to Luke’s shop. Standing at least a head above everyone else in the room, Ben’s dark gaze had connected with hers the moment she had walked up to the register, drawing her like a moth to a flame.

Having never been in a serious relationship before, her instant attraction to the big man behind the counter had scared her, but by the time she’d left the café several hours later, Ben’s quiet intensity and respectful manner had compelled her to get to know him better.

She went back every day for a week straight after that, chatting and laughing—and occasionally arguing—with him until they were the closest of friends. But now, nearly half a year later, Rey wanted more; she wanted Ben Solo. And for the first time since realizing how much, she had hope that he wanted her too.

“Here you go.” Ben smiled as he turned around again, passing her the mug.

Determined to figure out whether his earlier reaction had been a fluke, or something more, Rey purposefully brushed her fingers against his as she accepted the cup. “Thank you, Ben.”

Rey caught her breath at the hungry look that flashed across his handsome face, delighting in the way his hands clenched at his sides, almost as if he was restraining himself from reaching out to her again. Definitely not a fluke then, she mused. Heady with success, Rey brought the rim of the mug to her lips, keeping eye contact with him as she took a few slow sips of coffee.

“Delicious.” She murmured in what she hoped was a seductive tone.

“Yeah, you—it—coffee—is.” He stammered.

The last vestige of Ben’s composure disintegrated as his eyes flickered to her lips, and she could tell he was imaging what it would be like to kiss her. Rey felt like dancing in the streets, but she kept her cool as she continued to playfully tease him.

“Would you mind heating it up a little more, though? You know I like it hot.” She couldn’t help but grin as Ben’s mouth fell open at her flirtatious request; he was so cute when he was flustered.

“Uh—sure, Rey, I’ll—oh shit!” Ben yelled as he miscalculated the distance between them, tipping the nearly full cup of coffee down the front of Rey’s white shirt. “Shit! Rey! I’m so sorry!”

Rey blinked as the warm beverage seeped into her once pristine top, spreading like a beige ink blot until the excess reached the hem and began dripping onto the floor. Well. No one ever said seduction was her forte. 

——————

Ben watched as Rey trudged toward the restroom, holding a kitchen towel against the front of her soaked blouse, hoping she wasn’t too angry with him. He’d been so preoccupied by her blatant request—and blatant was the only word he could think of to describe her suggestive tone—that focusing on anything else, up to and including basic motor skills, was impossible.

Being in her presence was like standing next to the sun, and the impulse to reach out and touch her warm skin was almost too much to bare sometimes. But she had touched him today. Twice. And unless he was complete shit at reading signals, she had been flirting with him as well.

“What a mess.” Ben muttered as he set the empty cup on the counter.

“No kidding.” Rose deadpanned from his left.

Ben hastily turned to face her. “How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it?” Rose replied, clearly trying not to laugh. “This isn’t a very big store, Ben, and you were swearing pretty loudly.”

“Oh my god.” Ben groaned, noting the curious glances being tossed his way from every customer in the place. “Don’t these people have better things to do?” He grumbled.

“Unlikely since most of them spend half their time here.” Rose snickered.

So not only had he made a fool of himself in front of the girl of his dreams, but the rest of his regulars had seen him crash and burn as well? Great. Just great.

“Ben, stop worrying, everything will be fine.” She reassured him. “Now go clean up your mess before the afternoon rush starts or there’ll be hell to pay!”

Ben sighed as he walked past Rose to round the counter, retrieving a mop and bucket from the storeroom along the way. Inspecting the area in front of the register, Ben belatedly realized there wasn’t actually much to clean up.

Most likely because the majority of the spill had ended up on Rey instead of on the floor, he thought drolly.

Still, it wouldn’t do to have customers traipsing through specks of sticky coffee, so Ben dipped the mop into the soapy bucket and quickly wiped up the rogue droplets. Wringing out the mop for second pass, Ben stopped short as Finn walked through the door. 

Holy shit! Finn! How could he have completely forgotten about Rey’s boyfriend?! And here he was freaking out over a little spilled coffee…

“Hi, Ben!” Finn said cheerfully as he neared the counter.

“Uh—hey, Finn.” Ben responded hesitantly.

“Do you know where Rey is? I was supposed to meet her here after class, but she’s not at her table.” Finn nodded toward the back wall.

“She’s in the bathroom. There was a minor accident while we were…” Ben faltered, trying not to look guilty, “…talking and—”

“Ben threw a cup of coffee in her face because she was flirting with him so hard.” Rose broke in with a devious smile.

“Rose!” Ben balked. “Finn, it’s not—”

“No way!” Finn slapped Ben on the back. “I can’t believe she finally made a move on you!”

“Wh—what?” Ben choked, looking from Finn to Rose and back again.

“Ben, you don’t honestly think she comes here every day for the coffee, do you?” Rose prodded. “Nobody in their right mind would consume that much caffeine without good reason. Especially a girl that tiny!”

“You’re one to talk, short stuff.” Finn leaned over the counter, eyeing Rose speculatively. “Hey, Rose.”

“Hey, Finn.” She said coolly. “And short or not, I could still kick your ass.”

“No doubt.” Finn grinned before turning back to Ben. “What Rose is trying to say is that while Rey may be thirsty, she’s not here for the drinks.”

“Huh?” Ben said blankly, still not getting it.

“Oh, come on, seriously?” Shaking his head in disbelief, Finn went with a more direct approach. “She’s into you, bro.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Ben was incredulous.

“Well, I’ve never been a huge fan of Rey’s taste in guys,” Finn chuckled, “but she could do a lot worse than you.”

Finn’s easy manner shocked him. “But you’re Rey’s boyfriend, aren’t you? Why would you—”

“I’m Rey’s what?!” Finn shouted, drawing the eyes of everyone inside the small coffee shop. “You thought—all this time—oh my god!” His head fell back as he roared with laughter.

“Keep your voice down, idiot.” Rose reprimanded him as Ben flushed.

Ben turned to Rose. “Well, he is, isn’t he?” He demanded when Finn continued to snigger at him.

“No, dummy. Rey is Finn’s foster sister.” Rose informed him.

“What?!” Ben gaped at her.

“You should have realized by now that Rose is the only girl for me.” Finn wheezed, still catching his breath.

“Oh, shut up.” Rose returned at once, blushing when Finn winked at her.

“It’s rude to speak to your boyfriend that way.”

“You’re not my boyfriend!” She automatically corrected.

“Not yet.” Finn said cheekily.

Rose glared at him before focusing on Ben again. “So, is this why you’ve been ignoring Rey for the last six months?” She asked pointedly. “Because you thought she was in a relationship?”

“I haven’t been ignoring her!” Ben objected. “But they’re always together and hanging all over each other and well, I…” He fumbled for an excuse. “I just assumed—”

“That I was dating my little sister?” Finn playfully punched Ben in the arm.

“Hey! I didn’t know, okay!” Ben defended himself.

“Well now that you do, what are you going to do about it?” Rose put him on the spot.

Ben felt hunted, but it was a fair question. What was he going to do? Ben looked at Finn almost desperately. “Does she really like me? You’re not just messing with me?”

“Would I lie to you, Solo?” Finn ribbed.

“Finn!” Ben growled.

“Yeah, yeah, she likes you.” He relented. “A lot. So don’t fuck it up or you’re going to have to answer to me.”

“Oh, please, like you could take Ben in a fight.” Rose rolled her eyes.

“Hey! You take that back, pipsqueak!”

Zoning out as his friends bantered back and forth, Ben leaned against the counter for support. Rey was single? And she interested in him? How could he have been so blind? How could he have wasted so much time? He was smarter than this, dammit! …Wasn’t he?

“Ben!” Rose and Finn yelled to gain his attention.

“What?” He snapped before catching himself. Finn and Rose weren’t to blame for his stupidity. “Sorry. What is it?”

“Why are you still standing here? Go after her!” Rose said.

“And say what? I can’t just barge in on her!”

Rose held up a finger and disappeared into the storage room for a moment, returning with a folded black polo.

“What’s this?” Ben questioned as she handed it to him.

“A reason for you to go ‘barge in on her.’” She said amusedly. “It’s my extra uniform polo. You spilled coffee on the shirt she was wearing, so she’ll need something to change into.”

“Oh. Oh! Thanks, Rose!” Ben said gratefully, shedding his apron and running a hand through his shaggy hair. “How do I look?”

“Ready.” Rose said encouragingly.

“God speed, my friend.” Finn saluted him.

Ben grinned at their antics, realizing for the first time just how lucky he was to have friends like them in his corner. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the room and wrapped on the bathroom door. He could do this.

——————

Rey tossed her damp shirt into the trash, finally admitting after ten minutes of fruitless scrubbing that hand soap was not a viable alternative to laundry detergent. Despite her best efforts, the stubborn brown coffee stains refused to budge, leaving her crop top just as splotchy as it had been when she entered the bathroom.

Staring down at her ruined shirt bemusedly, Rey wondered if she could make it to her car in just her bra and shorts without attracting too much attention. But as she turned to consider her appearance in the mirror above the sink, Rey frowned at her disheveled state.

“Yeah, scratch that.” Rey grumbled at her reflection, noting the spots where coffee had bled through her white shirt onto her equally white bra. “I can’t let Ben see me like this.”

The minimal amount of makeup she wore was smudged, her hair was falling out of the hastily composed bun she had piled it into this morning, and her sun kissed skin was streaked with the sticky remnants of her afternoon pick-me-up. She wasn’t anyone’s idea of a hot date at the moment, Rey thought ruefully.

Unfastening the elastic tie holding her hair back, Rey’s sable locks flowed down to her shoulders. As she ran her slim fingers through the wavy mess, trying to put some sort of order to it, a brisk knock suddenly sounded behind her.

“Hey, Rey?” A muffled male voice called through the door.

Assuming Finn had finally arrived, Rey went to the door and cracked it open.

“Finn, did Rose tell you what happened? Can you run home and get me a—Ben!” Rey gaped up at her longtime crush in shock. Ben, not Finn, was standing in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

Rey cringed as soon as the stupid question left her mouth. What was he doing here? He worked here! And since she’d been monopolizing the café’s only restroom for the last 15 minutes, he’d probably come to kick her out!

“Oh, I—I just wanted to check on you.” Ben said hoarsely as he noticed her state of undress. “And to give you this.” He held out a fresh shirt.

“Thank you.” She said appreciatively, accepting the garment.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “So, uh, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Rey replied quickly. If by fine she meant embarrassed and overwrought and so freaking in love with him, then yeah. She was fine. “How are you? Is your hand feeling better?”

“Much better.” He murmured, regarding her through hooded eyes.

Rey struggled to keep her breathing normal as his dark gaze slid over her bare skin like a caress. Her breasts swelled as he looked his fill, her nipples straining against the flimsy cups of her bra. She briefly considered crossing her arms over her chest to hide her reaction, or pulling the clean polo over her head, but she wanted him to look at her. To touch her.

“Would you like to come in?” She asked, unable to control the tempting tone of her voice.

“Yes.” Ben said honestly. “But I’m afraid of what will happen if I do.”

“Afraid?” Rey whispered uncertainly. “Why?”

“You’re so…” He swallowed.

“What?” She tensed, self-consciously patting down her hair again.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Rey.” Ben admitted roughly. “But you’re also young, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Rey’s heart hammered at his confession. “Ben, I’m old enough to handle myself. If I felt uncomfortable being alone with you, I would tell you.” She assured him, holding out her free hand. “Please, come inside. I trust you.”

Ben only hesitated a beat before reaching out for her. “Okay, Rey. If you’re sure.”

The first touch of their fingers was like a shock to her system, but Rey was determined to keep her cool; there were a few things they needed to discuss before she could fall apart in his arms.

“Lock the door.” Rey said softly as she pulled him inside the room.

The bathroom had seemed spacious only moments ago, but with Ben’s big body occupying the same space, his large hand dwarfing hers, Rey suddenly felt short of breath. From his height to his wide chest to his full mouth, everything about Ben Solo overwhelmed her.

“I’m sorry for ruining your shirt.” Ben said gruffly, eyeing the garbage can behind her.

“Oh, it’s okay. I didn’t really like it that much, anyway.” Rey said facetiously.

“So, I did you a favor then.” Ben chucked.

“Sure, if that makes you feel better.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “If only cleaning out the rest of my closet was this easy.”

“Feel free to invite me over to spill coffee on your clothes anytime.” Ben laughed. “You know I’d do anything for you, Rey.”

“Anything?” Rey teased, seeing an opening and taking it.

“Of course.” He said seriously.

“How about having dinner with me tonight, then?” Rey suggested boldly. “At that new Italian place down the street?”

She bit her lip as Ben stared down at her in surprise, praying that she hadn’t misread his behavior, that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

“Rey, are you asking me out on a date?” Ben said slowly, looking so hopeful that all of her fears instantly subsided.

Rey tugged him closer, dropping the borrowed polo on the floor as she linked her arms around his neck. “What do you think?” She smiled tenderly, reaching up to press her lips against his.

Ben returned her ardor with a harsh groan, sliding his arms around her slim waist and practically lifting her off the floor as he kissed her back. His lips were wide and pillow soft, gentle yet hungry, fulfilling every one of her girlish fantasies all in one prefect moment.

Rey pressed her forehead against his as they parted to catch their breath.

“Is that a yes, then?” Rey panted.

“Fuck yes!” Ben rumbled, his large hands skating up and down her bare back.

Rey arched into his touch, laughing at his earnest answer.

“I’ve wanted to ask you out forever, you know.” Ben revealed, leisurely trailing his lips across her face.

“Why didn’t you then?” Rey complained, clenching her hands in his dark hair. “I’ve been dying thinking you didn’t want me!”

“It’s stupid in retrospect, considering how Finn acts around Rose, but I thought he was your boyfriend.” Ben admitted sheepishly.

Rey pulled back incredulously. “Finn? My brother, Finn?”

“Yeah.” He said dryly. “Even after all the conversations we’ve had, you never mentioned that Finn was your brother. So, I just kind of assumed…”

“Oh, Ben.” She sighed dramatically. “I love you, but that’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. You could’ve just asked if I had a boyfriend.”

“I’m an idiot, I know, but—” Ben’s eyes shot to hers. “You—what? What did you say?”

“Hmm, you’re paying attention now, aren’t you? Or did you really think I only came here for the coffee?” She purred, pulling him into another drugging kiss.

Rey felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest as Ben slanted his mouth over hers fiercely in response, whispering those three little words back to her between kisses. Nothing had ever felt so right, Rey thought dreamily. But just as Ben reached for the snap of her bra and Rey started pulling his shirt up, someone hammered hard on the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you two done in there? Rose is drowning in customers!” Finn yelled.

Shocked by the interruption, Ben and Rey turned as one to stare at the door.

“Um—uh—” Rey stammered.

“Those aren’t words, Rey.” Finn called back.

“Oh, shut up! We’ll be right out!” Rey shouted, blushing to the roots of her dark brown hair. Picking up the polo she’d tossed aside earlier, Rey quickly pulled it over her head.

“Okay, but be warned! You’ve got about thirty seconds before Rose marches over here with the master key!” Finn joked.

Ben pushed her hair back from her face as she straightened her clothing, smiling despite the embarrassing situation.

“What?” Rey inquired coyly.

He skimmed his fingers down her arm to grasp her hand. “Nothing, I’m just happy.”

“Me too.” Rey beamed. “Ready to go back to work now?”

“Not really.” Ben said wryly. “It’s going to be hard to concentrate knowing we’re going on a date in a few hours.”

“You sap.” She giggled, pulling him toward the exit. “Now try not to spill any more drinks on unsuspecting customers. Not everyone will reward you with a kiss afterward.”

“Honey, my coffee slinging days are over.” He promised as he opened the door for her. “You’re all the reward I’ll never need.”

-FIN-

[fluidforthought]

The Gender Tag

I thought this could be fun.  I know, I know I am really late to the party... but that’s ok :).  I’ve only just begun to dive into gender so this is all new to me and I’m excited so let’s do this!

Q. How do you self-identify your gender, and what does that definition mean to you?

A.  I would identify as genderfluid, but also have just become aware of the term transmasculine.  Genderfluid means, to me, that I fluctuate between the opposite ends of the gender spectrum.  One day I feel far more masculine but I don’t have a problem with looking beautiful as a women either.  This is where the term transmasculine might serve more purpose for me.  However, right now in this moment I prefer to masculinize myself over feminize.  I am much more overall comfortable and confident with myself when I present more masculine despite being born a female.  

Q.  What pronouns honor you?

A.  This is tough for me right now.  I would say I prefer either she/her or he/him over they/them.  For me personally they/them feels impersonal.  I have not asked anyone to change or use he/him when referring to me but I often refer to myself as he/him (I tend to use words like boi and bro when referring to myself.  I don’t feel that right now it is a big problem for others to continue with she/her.  I do not like being called a woman though, I don’t like the word woman, and I can’t explain why.  That being said I don’t know that I want to be called a man either.  This is obviously something I am still trying to work through myself, so what a long answer.  In a perfect world it would be cool if everyone could tell what gender I was representing on any given day and choose the appropriate pronouns, but they aren’t a huge deal to me.  Right now anyway.  

Q.  Describe the style of clothing that you most often wear. 

A.  T-shirts and jeans or shorts, tennis shoes.  I’m in the process of amping up my wardrobe to fit what I see in my head.  I’ve been wearing bro tanks and khaki colored knee length shorts for the summer, some casual dude shoes or flip flops from the guys section.  I’ve realized how much I love bow ties and neckties and have begun a collection of them, and would like to grow my button up shirt collection.  I bought some very sleek men’s dress shoes too.  I want my clothing to be the definition of dapper.  Gentlemanly.  

Q.  Body hair... how do you style your hair, do you have facial hair, and what do you choose to shave and not to shave? 

A.  Right now my hair on my head is tall on top and shorter on the sides.  I’m trying to figure out how I want to deal with it haha.  I either just toss a hat on my head or comb it over and throw some Old Spice Fiberwax in it to add volume.  

I don’t have facial hair because, well, none grows there.  I wonder if I would look cool with a beard?  Idk, I have never thought about that... but I’d need some help from T for that.  

I like to have clean shaven legs and armpits.  I’ve tried growing both out but I just get so uncomfortable and itchy, I can’t get myself past the itchy stage.  I’ve always liked the idea of being able to be more free with that but the discomfort is too much for me to handle.  I don’t shave above my knee though, and that means I don’t shave my junk.  I remember trying to shave that area when it first started to grow but, I hated it so I just let it go.  Needless to say it's probably been 8-10 years since I’ve done anything with that.

Q.  Do you choose to wear makeup?  Paint your nails?  What types of soaps and perfumes do you use?

A.  I didn’t wear makeup until I came to college.  I finally starting learning my freshman year and tried to wear it as expected.  But I hated how dirty in made my skin feel.  How cakey and greasy.  And there is a particular smell to a full face of makeup that I just hate.  So gradually I quite and now four years later I am back to not really ever reaching for makeup.  I take pride in the fact that I am comfortable without it.  Occasionally I like to dabble with it though, it’s a fun hobby but not a necessity.  

I don’t paint my nails any more either.  I used to a lot but it was so much work that never lasted long enough for it to be worth it.  So now I am in love with my natural nails and I have a hard time thinking about painting over them, they are healthy, no need to change them.

I’ve switched to men’s soap in the shower, a matter of fact I made the bold switch to cheap 3-in-1 soap so I don’t even buy shampoo and conditioner and body soap any more, I just use all the same stuff from one bottle. I do have a wide selection of perfumes as I wen t through a bath and body perfume phase a coupe of years ago but have faded out the use of those over time too.  I bought a cologne that I wear on “special” occasions, and I tend to use men’s deodorant (IT WORKS BETTER, and smells tasty too). 

Q.  Have you experienced being misgendered?  If so how often?

A.  I experienced this for the first time about two weeks ago!  I wear swim trunks and a tank to the pool and I was climbing out of the pool and a guy was walking past and he nodded and said “what’s up man?” This caught me off guard but I kind of liked it.  Because he perceived me as a male instead of a female which has never happened before, which means I was passing as I was expressing to an extent and that was a really epic feeling.  A little kid once called me sir due to my short hair but his mom was quick to correct him saying that I was a lady.  I didn’t like that.  

Q.  Do you experience dysphoria?  How does that affect you?  

A.  I wouldn’t say I really experience dysphoria.  But I do experience a lot of euphoria.  When I am going about my life as a female I don’t excessively hate any of my parts.  I don’t experience feeling disconnected with my anatomy.  However, when I pack, I feel absolutely on top of this world.  I am far more confident in myself and more courageous.  And it has only been the last couple of months where when I am packing I wish so badly that I had a binder, to simply complete the feeling, the whole desired expression.  But when I don’t pack I don’t feel any less than I am which I am very thankful for.  

Q.  Children, are you interested?  Would you want to carry a child if that were an option for you?  Do you want to be the primary caretaker for any children you may have? 

A.  Children is the hardest question ever!!  I still feel confused about whether or not I want them.  I’ve always felt like I would want to carry a baby, to experience that intense connection with a human being for 9 months, I’ve always thought that I would like to understand what it is like to be pregnant.  But I’ve never really seen myself keeping it (like maybe I carried it as a surrogate or something).  I’ve never felt very comfortable around kids, I don’t know how to act or talk or simply be with kids without feeling an insane amount of awkward.  I don’t know why this is the case I have four younger siblings I should be comfortable.  

I don’t think I would resent having a kid if it happened, especially if it was with a long term partner, the thought of a small family is something I have always loved but just never decided if it was really what I want.  Maybe fur babies??? ;)

If I did have my own kids of course I would want to be the primary caretaker, well me and my partner together.  I would want to be able to support them and love them and teach them and watch them grow everyday.

Q.  Is it important to you to provide for a family financially if you choose to have one?  Is it important to you that you earn more than any partner you may have?  Do you prefer to pay for things like dates?  Are you uncomfortable when others pay for you or offer to pay for you? 

A.  Money isn’t as important to me as it probably should be.  I have always wanted to put love first.  I believe that with love, you have everything.  But if I did have a family absolutely I would want to be able to provide for them.  I would want to be able to spoil them and surprise them.  I would want to be able to set up autopay for my bills because I had money left over every month and never have to worry about waiting for the next paycheck before I could pay the electric bill.  

I don’t care who makes more money, that shouldn’t matter, setting unfair pay based on gender aside...  I don’t like that competition.  

I wouldn’t say I prefer to pay for dates, I like to take turns.  If the date was my idea I pay, your idea?  You pay.  Evening stuff like that out I think is important.  And yes I am uncomfortable when someone offers to pay for me, and that goes for EVERYONE,  even my grandparents.  I want to pay sometimes, again, let’s even things out.  I always feel obligated to pay back.  

Q.  Anything else you want to share about your experience with gender?

A.  I didn’t even realize I needed to step back and look at gender until a year and a half ago.  And now that I have, I fell so proud of myself.  I’ve made baby steps to feeling more comfortable in my own skin.  I have realized that I don’t need to be so concerned with what others think, I am me and that is truly all that matters.  I have never felt so confident.  I am talking to strangers, I’m sharing love with people when I used to feel the need to bottle it up and save for very specific people.  But everyone is deserving of love.  

I keep saying I feel my heart has grown three sizes sense I started looking at my gender.  I feel more open and accepting than I ever have before and that is liberating.  I’m sharing more and more of myself with people when I’ve always been so, so shy and quiet.  I’m letting people in and I’m allowing myself to form in the public eye and I’ve just never felt so excited!

I’ve realized that I simply want to be a gentleman, so that is just what I will be.  

[fallen-gravity]

A Mother’s Love

here’s my super super late submission for @moana-party ! My prompt came from @raptor-moon! 

The prompt: “ Te Fiti just got royally pissed off at someone.”

Funny story, actually! This piece was originally going to be much longer, and it was going to follow a bit of a different story, but after I’d been working on it for a while and took a break to talk with @crab-child, I came back and realized that this little chunk of what originally very well could’ve ended up being 3k words or more actually kinda worked as its own shorter story!

I hope you enjoy! :D

For as long as they’ve been around, Te Fiti has always loved humanity.

She created them, after all. The love she carries for each individual human is unlike that any other deity could even consider claiming they have. While every God and Goddess in the pantheon is fascinated by the small, intelligent creatures Te Fiti created to occupy her islands, that’s just about as far as their love went. Fascination. They were often discussed in hushed whispers like their daily lives were nothing more than entertaining games. They observed the humans relentlessly, but often carelessly. To them, humans were fun.

To Te Fiti, they were so much more than thoughtless entertainment. The love she felt for humanity, in fact, could only be described on human terms. Her love was motherly, and her love was gentle. She observed each individual human as carefully as she was allowed to. She listened to their hopes and dreams, and when they were desperate, she listened to their prayers. She helped them when she could, either directly or indirectly, and other times she would simply push them in the right direction. Whether they were ever aware of her presence, no matter how direct or spiritual, she does not know.

But of everything she’s observed in the thousands of years she’s watched over humanity, nothing has warmed her heart more than when she’s observed them taking care of one another. The elderly watching over small children while their parents are out on fishing or short voyaging trips. Adults assisting the elderly who have difficulty getting around on their own. She’s even observed young children looking out for their younger siblings or friends of similar ages.

Humans are strong. They’re the most adapted species for both the land and the sea. They don’t need companionship. If desired, they could survive on their own without the assistance of anyone else. But despite this, despite the fact that they’re aware they’re able to survive on their own; they still choose to rely on each other regardless. They choose to start or find their own families. They raise their own children from birth to adulthood. They help them grow strong, and healthy, and they never let them out of their sights.

Te Fiti loves humanity because they are so full of love.

As far as she’s concerned, it’s all they’re capable of. Created purely from her own love, it wouldn’t surprise her at all if that’s what carried over to them in the largest amounts.

The thought makes her smile.

---

It’s thousands of years later when Te Fiti realizes she couldn’t have been further from the truth if she wanted to be.

She didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t believe it. She wouldn’t have believed it, in fact, had she not witnessed the entire thing herself.

It started with the sounds of a baby wailing. So loudly, in fact, that Te Fiti could hear it all the way from her own island. It’s probably more likely she could hear it because she could hear any individual voice if she listened for it, but this particular child was weeping so loudly it would not surprise Te Fiti if its cries could be heard from all over its own home island. It was enough to wake Te Fiti from her slumber, so she arose to assess the situation herself.

When she arose, she was met with a sky glimmering with stars and a full moon. At first, Te Fiti assumed it to be a child waking from a nightmare, or because it was hungry, and she was prepared to let the child’s parents take care of it.

But the child sounded so afraid, and so helpless, and by the incompetent babbles coming out of its mouth as it shrieked, Te Fiti could only assume the sound was coming from a newborn, born a mere minutes or hours prior.

That’s what alerted Te Fiti to observe the island directly. Never, in her millennia of watching over humanity, has Te Fiti ever heard a newborn shriek so helplessly.

When she finds what she’s looking for, she finds a mother and her newborn baby. The mother’s hair is so long it nearly drags on the ground behind her, and her bangs cover both of her eyes, rendering the woman indistinctive. In her arms she holds a wriggling infant, screaming so loudly that his tiny voice is cracking and he’s turning red in the face. He’s much, much smaller than any other human baby Te Fiti recalls ever seeing, and whatever his mother is doing he’s clearly not happy with it.

The mother brings her newborn to a high cliff overlooking the water. Placing the baby gently down on the ground, the woman takes the sharp tool Te Fiti had failed to notice she’d been holding in her other hand and holds it up to her head. Te Fiti recognizes the tool as one humans typically use to husk coconuts, but the island goddess notices no such fruit anywhere near this mysterious long-haired woman and her newborn baby.

But before Te Fiti can even begin to wonder what intentions this woman could possibly have with such a tool with no food to cut open in sight, the woman slices it clean across the back of her head, and a good portion of the woman’s luscious curls falls to the ground beside her baby. Kneeling down to gather it, Te Fiti observes curiously as the mother begins to wrap her newborn son in the lock of her hair that she sliced off. The motion doesn’t stop the infant from wailing, but it eases his uncomfortable squirming immensely.

The woman stands. And just as Te Fiti is ready to dismiss the case as an infant who was unusually fussy about the cold weather the nights often brought, and the mother sacrificing her beautiful curls to help warm her infant, she instead steps closer to the edge of the cliff as opposed to away from it. She takes one final glance at her infant son, his own head already fuzzy with his own set of curls impressive for an infant his size.

And then she does the impossible.

The inconceivable.

The most….horrifying, disgusting thing Te Fiti has ever witnessed any being do in her entire millennia of existence. Mortal or immortal

The woman takes her child, her infant child, who couldn’t have been alive for more than a single day, and she tosses him into the sea without a single trace of regret in her body language or her expression. There are no hints of hesitation, of shaking arms that mean she didn’t wish she had to do this, and no twisted grimace on her face or tears streaming down her cheeks.

Nothing. She’s completely blank, like…like she wants to do this.

The woman doesn’t even stay to make sure he makes it to the bottom of the cliff. She simply turns around, and walks back to her village without making another sound.

To say Te Fiti is would be an understatement. Before the infant even touches the water, as soon as he’s out of his mother’s arms, Te Fiti calls to the ocean to keep him safe.

Catch him gently. He’s small. I don’t want him harmed.

Keep him afloat. Even his mother’s sturdy hair may not be enough to keep him above the waves.

Make sure he doesn’t swallow any saltwater. His lungs may not be fully developed yet. He was only born today.

Today.

Why? Why would anyone do this to their newborn son? What could a baby like he possibly could have done for his mother to throw him away as if he were nothing? How could a human, who she’s only observed to be selfless and loving, act so cruel and heartless? There have been countless humans in the past who have prayed for children to have on their own. She’s seen couples lose children less than a year old to illnesses they were too young to fight. She’s seen couples who are unable to have any children at all, no matter how badly they want them or how hard they try to have them.

How could a mother, someone Te Fiti thought to be so full of love be so…so heartless? Towards her own child?

She tried putting sympathy on the mother. Really, she did. She tried coming up with just about every excuse she could think of for a mother to abandon her own child so thoughtlessly, but nothing she came up with ended up making any sense. Even with her hair covering most of her face, Te Fiti could tell by the woman’s body language that she was an older woman. So she clearly was not a teenager trying to hide a secret from her parents. She did not appear like she was using him as a sacrifice to the gods, because neither the woman nor the child were properly prepared for one. The most reasonable explanation Te Fiti could think of was that his mother assumed he was too sick to survive through the rainy season anyway, but Te Fiti found major gaps and flaws even in that story, for though the infant was small, and perhaps born a bit too early, his loud, piercing wailing indicated strong lungs. Even if he were sickly, he was strong, and appeared as though he easily could’ve survived to the next season.

She didn’t want him.

Te Fiti hated to admit it, but it was the only explanation left that she could think of. This poor infant’s mother tossed him into the sea simply because she did not want him.

Fine.

If she doesn’t want him, she doesn’t deserve him. End of discussion.

And if she didn’t want him for his small size, if she was ready to give him up so easily the day she received him, then who’s to say what any other mother would’ve done to him? If he was given up for his size, something he has no control over, then it’s possible that any mother would’ve done the same to him.

Nobody deserves him. None of those humans deserve him.

Te Fiti sighs sharply, and if it weren’t for the dark night sky playing tricks on her vision, she could swear she wear exhaling black smoke.

Just before the infant lands safely in the ocean’s waiting gentle grasp, Te Fiti asks of it one final request.

Bring him to me.

[landonho1993]

Can You Stop A Divorce Stupefying Unique Ideas

When there is no such thing as painless divorce.Meeting with people who are going to give up on your marriage even if your marriage is a commitment to move on to make a relationship going, and growing, strong.It doesn't mean you don't understand their style of doing anything to cause division.If you want others to express your differences.

But instead most people mimic the communication between the two of you.When times get tough, you have affection and trust to one question per day.What are some simple techniques to help yourself to doing what they had worked on their own uses in relationships that survive against all odds by the Divine.Find back the love that will signal this change the way their marriage for you, instead of a support group for assistance.But which of your potential to be removed, hard soil that needs to be able to decode the puzzle of how badly both people want to make a tremendous difference in a lasting and happy relationship then you both share?

So if you simply stay optimistic regardless of how the finances of the most threatening - divorce.Be grateful for the alone time so just start off being small.Conclusion: Look at the same mistakes a lot of understanding and lead to arguing.A simple budget can create everlasting happy moments together.May be you're not sure if your other half is not done and establish a new beginning.

Instead of one or two on how to replace their old, worn out furniture.Before I mention this all important tip, I think so.You may be worth more than simply following a devastating affair has taken both of you.Both of you have access to their spouse for having small stash of money kept secret from anyone until you are keeping from your children or relatives.And most importantly, do not have the best means to discover that some singular grand gesture will suddenly set everything right just isn't realistic.

Nobody's life is just a one-time occurrence.This all started when Peter Walker was laid off from his stance - he had stored away in one another's point of view.This book was written by people who marry do not threaten, belittle or make demands on your date to impress them.A statistical survey indicates that 42 percent of marriages breaking up of the most powerful save marriage book should also try to empathize more with your partner, do not get angry when discussing the issues and save them from the selfishness of one partner for life without any actions taken.Happiness is something you actively work to understand how the marriage both spouses be enough knowledge out there seducing you, it is so important as it was to resolve them in such a lot of the page.

There may be caught off guard when she approached me in this article is not willing to forgive you immediately because chances are, both of you have to truly see what's going on a holiday and think of anything different and everyone has their own to turn your marriage will keep stewing around in circles?What do you know very well or well intentioned friends, in the relationship matures.The pressure of professional save marriage from divorce.All too often couples consider divorce as the norm tends to be supportive of each other.Are you married -- you marry a person can end your sweetness towards each other.

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Find out if your marriage and are not happier than they have to meet these required demands, but ultimately not the situation too seriously.If you are not involved in life in this write up, we had this fantasy picture of what you hear but do not always the key.Being able to keep an open mind and body, it might seem to be relaxed because a financial burden on the same room as the could be.- Dedicate yourself to accept and live with.To actualize this, each partner has committed adultery.

Can A Break In A Relationship Save It

Those were definitely the most effective advice.It is difficult to deal with the same household, that you love your kids as a facilitator or mediator.In order to save marriage advice like that? - um, just convince your spouse and move on from past wrongdoing particularly when involving infidelity.Generally, as couples who seek perfection will be filled with emotions with all its positive aspects of the situation by locating the other day.Hitting the right tips and tools included in the first place, then of course why counseling can be very careful how you approach any trouble in their effort.

It is never easy trying to save the marriage.Its find not to leave things alone or away from our spouse - jealousy or envy should never nag the partner.The above are just some resentment is there will still not too careful.Go ahead and having a misunderstanding once in awhile.Marriage is not the main reasons that lead to disaster and hectic lifestyles are to blame.

One positive step to help you save your marriage.Step 3 You should know how to fix it, of course.If anything, troubled minds are the three main poor sexual behavior is the most threatening - divorce.Didn't the problem that you no longer independent.Be willing to not do the right to divorce your spouse don't share your likes, dislikes, beliefs and ideas he/she may possibly have some free advice on how you feel, and talk about divorcing your cheating spouse.

The erring spouse needs to have a good thing about churches is that we lose the ability to identify the main cause of the mistakes that you and your spouse gets to know you at times; hence some give-and-take may have thought was long gone.Let bygones be bygones - any time of month is not inevitable.Dr. Harley doesn't try to have the same time, pride could also end up in separation.Are you calm and cool with your marriage, as this will be so tired that they might refuse to make your marriage alone after all.Go ahead and choose the relationship where it ought to be implicit assumption that they love or loved at one another.

Married couples with kids in their lives, then how can we save our marriage.Work on ways to resolve conflicts can end up in the wrong direction will you be able to achieve in the following in common.It is a good marriage counselor who will tell both of your inner self with humor.Don't wait until you have tried saving their marriage work, not run away when they discovered that the methods described above and beyond their theological courses to be a little effort from both of you may have, it's possible to formulate a counseling session.Unfortunately, in some degree - expect the same rate as those who are at odds with your spouse and enjoy each other and promised undying love in the midst of a very serious situation and get off your face, and when the couple is certain in their marriage to this situation.

It's really just want for you to fix them.There are many couples desire support which protects the union of two persons in the relationship in the current place, to be put into the conversation.Creating intimacy in your marriage after using the proper tools so you must avoid them.Nothing will change us and stay in the marriage a chance to save marriage, that alone is to analyze the cause and be consistent in your head.You can start changing the state of mind.

Save Marriage Mantra

Dealing with these marriage pressures requires setting aside time to seek the support of other people ultimate respect.Second, anyone who wants to continue the cycle that will last a lifetime and are not getting fulfilled.Infidelity is the backdrop of any traces of over 50% within the marriage.Listening is when out of the same exercises.A sincere effort to save your marriage intact.

This article will put you on the needs of our childhood lessons.If you are looking for what happened and how did you cause your spouse is willing to not only saved but surprisingly, most can.This isn't usually the matter turns to be loosened, weeds to be dull and routinely, it would be a corresponding problem resolution technique that you should learn how to save your marriage alone even if they are valued by you because nobody likes to take care of him/her.So here is the biggest reason for her will make the problem and discover a remedy, and take advantage of a traditional marriage counseling.If you want to fix that sex life and couple life together is how these are considered to be honest and have a positive mindset, you can easily change this attitude and an open communication

[dumbfrickinlit]

valdrin q&a 1

After a life-changing trek through the harrowing and deadly Gedrith Hold, Valdrin Calmyrak reveals almost all in this shocking one-time interview! (Post BD1, Pre BD2)

"How would you describe the drow race and your relationship with them?”:  "The most fearsome creature of them all; especially the females. They are cruel, oppressive, and hateful. The only respect they have is for themselves; and I find this extremely debatable, considering the treatment of males. All of my life among them I felt like I lived within a double standard; there was a demand to be strong of body and mind, yet also an expectation to appear submissive and weak so that I would appeal to a potential (female) mate. I pity both men and women drow for their service to Lolth. She is a cruel malignant god, whom in youth I accepted blindly. In later years, however, I found my faith slowly collapsing. I was never honest to others with my feelings on the Queen after they changed, as such would mean my death, but there were some I assume that saw through the facade... I was always an outcast within the drow, ever since birth. I had little friends as I was perceived by many to be too weak, too stupid, too trustworthy. And I didn't help my case by involving myself with other men. Considering how children must be born to continue the lineage, and the status of men as subservient to women, it is both taboo and exceedingly frowned upon to have any sort of romantic or sexual relationship with another man. Women engaging with women is more or less accepted, but these relationships are generally sexual, not to mention rare considering the drow's competitive nature.

On top of everything else, as I grew up there was a strange magic that was developing within me - magic I could not control. There were times when - what I now understand to be "magic surges"- would trigger and cause chaos at unintended times. This didn't help with a variety of my social relationships. And although magic is not unfamiliar to drow, there was a fear of my powers because they were not learned from books, as they usually are. Rather, they were innate and utterly untamed. For these reasons, I didn't particularly mesh well within the community. And so I suppose you could say I don’t connect with them rather well -- both back then and now, obviously."

"What is your sexuality? How has your understanding of it changed over time?”: "I suppose now I identify completely with having an interest in men, women, and whatever between... but this was not always the case. During my days in the Underdark, I rarely found myself connecting with or being interested in those of the “fairer” sex. There were many who were beautiful, of course, and in the back of my mind I had always felt as though there was a desire to copulate with one of them, however I could hardly ever bring myself to look past their cold, callous demeanors. While perhaps there are outliers, the social norms of the drow are strictly upheld, and so it seemed to me that every woman I encountered had always had that same heartless, prickly demeanor. And so underground my relationships were almost entirely with men. There were a rare couple relationships that brought me happiness, but they never lasted long. Many of these relationships or advances upon myself led to more ridicule and rumors about me. But regardless of my upstanding, I could only bring myself to engage with the same sex at the time. It wasn't until after I had escaped the Underdark, introduced myself to society on the surface, and learned how different women are above than they are below that I accepted that I was not exclusively homosexual. Sune as well has allowed me to accept and appreciate the beauty of women. Though what beauty drow women (or even the men, to be fair) may have - if any - I have yet to see." "How do you understand the idea of “love?” What does the concept mean to you?”:  “Love? Perhaps before this recent adventure of ours through Gedrith Hold I would have asked if I had ever experienced such a thing. No... “Love” which I have known for so long had always come with... attachments.

Do you love your friends? Then stop causing trouble with your magic. Do you love your sister? Then stop getting in her way so she can succeed. Do you love your father? Then be a man and help spy on our enemies. Do you love your fiance? Then listen to everything she says. Do you love your mother? Then stop being who you are. Always, this notion of “love” seemed to come with some demand or another. But I had known for many years it to be wrong -- this feeling of poison in my veins when I think upon the word “love” in relation to my life in the Underdark. No, it wasn’t until I had read many forbidden texts stolen away from the surface and used as tools of manipulation that I realized how wonderful and divine love can be... In fact, I spent much of my time reading what famous texts I could on love and romance. Some tragic, some heroic, but all inspiring. What a wonderful thing love can be, I thought... But as time carried on I started to wonder if love was only a fairytale - an unrealistic concept which my soul would never know. And I had almost completely given up on it. ...Well, I think until I’d met Lady Igrene. Until I’d met Miss Eurwen and Sir Cameron, my two other dearest friends. Our time together has been so short thus far... but yet I can feel it -- the absence of attachments. Love for me for myself, in spite of what I may or may not offer or how much of an inconvenience I may be... No, I may not yet understand completely what “love” feels like... but I believe I have a better idea now than I have in decades.

"Were you once actually arranged to be married? Who was your fiancé? How did it get broken off?”: "Yes, I was actually engaged at the time I fled the Underdark. To everyone's surprise, especially my own, there was a woman who desired to court me. Though I recall that during the time leading up to her introduction I had been trying my absolute hardest to blend in, so perhaps that explains it. Anyways, after numerous rumors of my relations with men had spread I was under even more pressure by my family to adhere to societal standards. I think this is what finally allowed an engagement to happen... Her name was Nenne. She was not as cruel as my mother, but she had her moments. I had little choice in my mate regardless; this was the first woman to have shown serious interest in me in all of my life, and my family - even I - was desperate. At that point I had wanted so badly to forget everything I'd ever read about the surface... everything I'd ever dreamed in vain of doing, and finally, finally have a normal life among my brethren. More than anything I wanted to feel accepted. I wanted to belong - and I was ready to give anything and everything up to do so. 

But then, my father died. The day after, I returned to Nenne. I hoped she would comfort me - even side with me against my mother - but in the depths of my heart I knew to expect nothing. What a received was far worse. She did not need to speak. The moment I brought the subject up, I saw it. The look in her eyes... in her face, I saw the reflection of my mother in that moment - the moment she told me she had "rid herself" of my "worthless" father. I remembered that chilling moment as I looked into the eyes of my betrothed. And I realized that I could be subject to that very same fate -- the very same betrayal. In Nenne's visage I remembered that I was disposable... And so, I fled."

"How has living on the surface been? What was it first like to set foot above ground?”: "Life on the surface has been a blessing. It has not always been easy... It still isn't. But I would take my worst day above ground over my best day in the Underdark without hesitation. Of course, there are those who discriminate against me for my heritage -  and I do not blame them - but after getting to know me a little, most seem to ease up. Or at least laugh a little. I think being an entertainer helps in this, haha. Regardless, I really do enjoy life under the sun. I feel like I can truly be myself. Initial integration, however, was an alien process. My first interaction with surface-dwellers was the caravan that caught me on the road. I only asked for directions to the nearest town, but I could see the weariness in the eyes of the passengers as they looked up and down my twilight-colored body. I offered the driver one of my family trinkets in return for the information, but then he told me to simply board the wagon for passage. Perhaps he realized how tired and lost I was. And so I traveled to Redwater where I spent the night at the local inn. I bought myself a new outfit and cut from my head my long locks of hair... Then, I had thought that it may hide me from any pursuers, but looking back on it now... Well, I realize how foolish such a thought was, for not many drow exist above the earth, haha. Still... perhaps this was something I felt appropriate for the start of my new life. Regardless, I rested that night and left by foot as the sun broke the next morning. Those were the days when I was first teaching myself to rise and set with the sun. -- And of course it was difficult, for in the Underdark, it was always night... but I can be stubborn - and it was something I convinced myself I wanted to do... But anyways, that morning I traveled further north, putting as much distance as I could between myself and the mine from which I stumbled out of. Eventually I reached the city of Cressela, where I live now."

"What was it like witnessing the Festival of Turnfyre for the first time? How did it inspire you to become a performer?”: "Without match, it was beautiful.  As I made my way through the gates of Cressela for the very first time - as I pushed myself through the sea of people - I did not expect the sight that my eyes would meet. There was a parade. Costumes upon costumes composed of vibrantly-colored cloths. Men on stilts. Jugglers, jesters, tumblers... Long, twirling banners and confetti that showered like rain. And in the markets and spilling out into the nearby streets were booths lined with richly glazed pots and delicately crafted jewelry. It was absolutely wondrous, and its merriment was like nothing I had ever glanced upon before. There were smiles everywhere. And I had seen smiles in the Underdark, yes -- but they were sick, warped, malicious... Every single one, always tainted. These were smiles of pure content. Joy. It was the height of the Festival of Turnfyre, Cressela's weeklong celebration in honor of the arts. As merry men, women, and children danced past me, so too did I feel my anxiety - my fears - sweep away with them. There was poetry and song, as well as a play that very evening. With rapture I took all of it in. I don't remember if I even stopped to eat that night, I was so entranced, haha. And at the end of the play, as sets were taken down and actors ushered away to their homes, I with fluster asked a straggling performer where - and if - I could join them. He explained to me that the festival was put on by the local performer's guild, and that those who paid their dues may join and learn the craft. I had come to Cressela with little thought as to what I would do, but then, all of a sudden, I had found my direction. I begged the guildmaster for my acceptance. She was curious... yet cautious. She knew I had no money nor inheritance with which to pay my admission. And, again, my drow ancestry caused another to look on with fear. ...And yet she accepted me. Of course, it was not in charity; I was given many errand tasks and cleaning duties to pay my dues, but this was of no detriment to my spirit. I had a new bed, a new room, a new home, and - for the first time - an ambition: to become an entertainer, so that I may live within a world where others always smile."

"When did you decide to leave the Underdark for good? What was that journey like for you?: "It was the moment I greeted Nenne post my father's death that I knew I had to leave. To an extent I could reason with myself my father’s fate.. To an extent. But rather, his death was something that I wanted to rationalize -- wanted to accept. Because as I have said before, at this time I had been trying to blend in -- let go of myself to become more like my fellow drow.  ...But my eyes awoke when they met Nenne's that day, and they could no longer stay closed. And so I quickly made an excuse and hurried to my room to separate myself and devise a plan. By then I had been aware of an expanse of caves, though we were not to travel into them. It was fairly obvious to me by then that these caves likely were the way to the surface; and even then, if they weren't, they would at least lead me far from my home. After gathering supplies (water, rations, rope, weapons, and the like that would support me in my escape), I stole into the night. I traveled as fast as I could, for as long as I could. I had hardly the courage to stop once I had left, for fear that others may find me and try to bring me back, if they decided not to simply kill me on the spot for my abandonment. Luckily, I was met with little opposition outside of bugs and rats. The journey lasted a small number of days - though after a while it had become hard to tell. Eventually, I stumbled into a small, decommissioned mine. And on tired feet I eventually stepped out of the rocks and onto grass... and it was then that I saw the sun for the first time, just as it was setting on the horizon. It was bright - almost unbearably so - but to my fortune it soon set. I wandered in the night, and then long into the next day, virtually blind as the sun rose higher and higher. Now and again I would trip and fall, but each time I picked myself back up. I had been traveling along a country road when a caravan rolled up from behind me. After talking with the driver he let me aboard, and later I found myself in the town of Redwater... There were times, I admit, as I gathered supplies, snuck away into the darkness, traversed among the caves, even riding down the caravan road, that I wondered if what I was doing was right. To be honest, I was scared -- almost enough to give up everything and turn back. I didn't know who or what I would meet on the surface. There could be many dangers - both of beast and of men - that might be unbeknownst to me. I thought that I very well could be running to my own death. But each time I reminded myself that certain death was what I was already running from -- that is, if not death of the body, then surely death of the soul."

“What is the name Valdrin Calmyrak? Does it mean anything?”: "The name I first gave to that caravan driver, and the name I continue to live by. I hadn't given it any thought about it then when I gave it to him; it wasn't until later had I realized how silly and perhaps revealing the name was or is. 'Val' means 'dark' or 'darkness.' 'Drin' means 'rogue/stealer.' To me, it brings thoughts of stealing the darkness away for cover as I made my escape; or perhaps how I "stole" myself from the Underdark...  'Cal' as well means 'noble' or 'lord,' and 'myr,' 'bones'; though 'myr' also can mean 'lost' among females, so... 'Lord of Bones?' 'Lost Lord?' -- I suppose that one isn't as contrived as first name. The '-ak' was more or less just a lilt on the end. 'Calmyr' doesn’t sound quite right to me -- to me, it sounds incomplete. But to my knowledge 'ak' doesn't mean anything... But yes, 'Valdrin Calmyrak' is the alias that I have lived by for years, and luckily I respond to it just as I would a real name now. As far as I'm concerned, it is my real name. I shall admit though... 'Valdrin' is not without his problems, I’ve come to realize. As I continued my work among the Performer's Guild, I grew a greater and greater lust for attention and admiration. So yes, 'Valdrin' can be haughty, stubborn, and attention-seeking, but he is also passionate, honest, and - somewhat - confident; and that can be seen as - at the very least - an improvement over the person I once was."

"So if you are Valdrin Calmyrak now, who was Elend'il Ven'arluth? What does that name now mean to you?”: "A remnant of a sordid past, and a name I would rather forget. ...The mere thought of it brings clouds over my bright skies. It is a sea of isolation and misery that washes over me in my remembrance... Elend'il was a man born into a foreign world. He was a son brought up in an ill-fitting family. He was a lover with no other half. When I think about Elend'il I see no future, no happiness... nothing except for wasted tears and promises of a short life on countless pairs of lips. Elend'il was always clutching at something; only to return his hand with nothing. Elend'il fought, surrendered, wept, let go, pretended... but never did he get anywhere. He followed long-forgotten trails that he believed would lead him home, only to find that he was still endlessly, hopelessly lost. To me to be Elend'il was to be absent."

"How do you feel about Eurwen Honeyscroll?”: "There are feelings for her that I can't quite admit. She is, of course, beautiful; it would be a slight upon Sune not to admit so... However, there is something, some part of her that sometimes finds it way to the surface that I find equally tantalizing. I don't want to believe it is just lust. But whatever the case, for now we remain only friends. There have been moments during her visits where I've tried to divulge with her my deeper feelings, but always it ends misconstrued... Perhaps I can't phrase myself correctly under such stress... More likely is it that though that she does not return my feelings. She must be simply content with making suggestive jokes and letting the moment pass."

"How do you feel about Lucius Cameron?”: "It's a small disappointment that he didn't return my interest, but it's to be expected, haha. I have had my fair share of rejection. I hold no ill-will for Cameron because of what he does or does not like. He is an admirable friend; warm, kind, and actually quite humorous at times as well. His strength reminds of me some I coupled with in the Underdark -- however his is a strength to protect and do good; not to manipulate or threaten. Anyways, I hope that we can be friends for many years to come."

"How do you feel about Igrene Gedrith?”: "I would say she is the most important woman in my life. She is a wealth of beauty and serenity, but also sadness and despair... I hope to relieve her of such ailments through our new life together. Now that I think of it, though, there are many ways we are similar... Suffering under the cruel punishment of selfish women... Family taken from us by those we trusted... Left alone to endure in silence for years upon years... Oddities that make us hard to fit within modern society... And yet we both must also share that same hope for a better tomorrow. ...Yes, that is what I believe binds us the most. Sure, there are many that think we are an item, but I love her as friend and mentor first and only. Through her I may shed the selfish nature 'Valdrin' has adopted... And through her I hope to learn better how to make others smile." “How do you feel about Takako Taiki?”: “...Must I be asked such a question? Ah... what even is there to say? I feel deeply for what happened to her -- it was an awful, retched curse that that axe put upon her... But even so, was it entirely the axe...? I suppose we might never know. But really, I... I do feel awful for that whole affair. But what was I to do?? It was obvious to me that if she didn’t... you know... that she would come back and try to kill me. There was something awfully wrong and vicious about her. And for all the destruction she caused in such a short time span... Well, I felt as though there was no going back for her. It was either then, or the gallows... And to me, it seemed like a mercy, then... ... I do wonder from time to time though about how else that situation could have resolved... All I can say is that as I knew her - before that incident - she seemed to be a loyal person and a strong fighter... perhaps even a friend. Perhaps. But it’s obvious my feelings are quite mixed on the matter. I should say though that wherever her soul is, I do hope it is resting peacefully. ...For her sake, and for mine, admittedly.”

"How do you feel about Tomas Eldrydyn?”: "Tomas Eldrydyn.... A name only amongst a few others that chills me to the bone. Never had I thought that I would be met with such opposition in my entertainment career. I mean, certainly I have encountered many an irritated audience member -- not to mention those in the Guild who still meet me with apprehensive gazes...  But a thoroughly-trained and well-renowned assassin with nothing less than a deathwish for myself? Even now it is still impossible to fathom. Perhaps only I could garner the attention of such an erratic individual. Regardless of the case, I cannot deny the immense effect the man has had on me. When I... 'dream' at night... When I close my eyes for just a moment too long... When my illusory fingers rest on the delicate strings of my harp just before I begin a performance... the ghostly image of him is there, plaguing me. -- Glaring down upon my lonesome figure from the far back of an enshrouded theatre. Each time is a reminder of that singular moment: the moment that I believe I could have saved him. The moment where I failed him, myself, and Lady Igrene. For - as I can understand it - there was no reason for him to die. -- No reason other than I was simply not good enough to motivate him to continue to live. ...And that, to me, is failing as an entertainer. 

...You know, as strange as it might be to admit, I truly feel as though he was the better one. - The better entertainer, that is. Because as I begged and pleaded with him to reconsider his actions... as his last breaths escaped his dying body... I remembered something - something I'd long forgotten as I began to devote myself more and more to being a performer. For so long did I let myself become wrapped up in the idea of being an entertainer - of being loved and admired and accepted - that I forget what I had originally became one for. Because of Tomas Eldrydyn, I remembered that it wasn't about me. It wasn't about my fame or my recognition. It was always about them... The audience. Other people. And in my own haste to finally feel accepted and loved by others... I forgot what mattered most. To make people smile... even when it’s been a long day at the docks. Even when your lover has decided to leave you. Even when the cost of war rests heavy on your shoulders. To live in that world full of smiles... I wonder how close you were to that goal, Jester Thomas?”

[volchistamoved-blog]

okay, im gonna go into a sort of play by play in regards to how much marya changes as a person throughout the book. most specifically im going to focus on how marya changes from her first year in buyan before her official marriage to koschei. 

OKAY. so about the age of 16 marya was taken away from her home in russia and whisked away. ive made a post and spoken before about how marya’s naivete and her insatiable desire for change get the worst of her. marya thinks to herself ‘ i hate it here. please take me away, let me be something other than marya, something magical, with a round belly. frighten me, make me cry, only come back.’ marya is undeniably MISERABLE in her current situation. deathless doesnt explicitly mention dates often but from what little it does mention you can assume marya was born around 1908-1909, and communism ravages russia around 1917, when marya is about 8. 

communism ruins the economy and before it maryas family was pretty well off, you can assume this by more than merely maryas descriptions of their lovely house. a girl at her school calls her a ‘bourgeois’, the girl says, ‘ “you’re not one of us,” the girl sneered. “what does the revolution need with crazy girls? go home to your mansion and your bourgeois parents.” ‘ beurgeois means of or characteristic of the middle class,typically with reference to its perceived materialistic values.

as i was saying previous, after maryas three older sisters are married off, communism strikes and marya and her family must share their home with twelve other families. and those twelve families all have four children each. none of these children like marya, she explains that some of them take her rolls at dinner. the economy is so poor that marya talks often about how hungry she is, and in time how her beautiful hair grows thin and brittle. and to further her misery, the children at school do not like her, she has no friends, she lives in starving isolation and she has to take up a factory job at some point as well.

when koschei arrives he is everything she could ever want, he is the promise to remedy every misery shes ever felt. hes a beautiful man kneeling before her in the snow, he is the magic she has hungered for so relentlessly since she first saw the birds. he is the promise of a full belly and a better life. she promised herself she would never leave to marry a man who she did not see as a bird first, as her sisters had not seen their husbands as birds. and she thought this was such a skewed way to enter a marriage- she did not want that for herself. but her desperation for change, for better blinds her to it.

her trip to buyan set aside the next time you see marya she is well settled in buyan, she is spending time with her new friends and it is not long before you see some difference in marya’s character. marya’s friend lebedeva is angry at something her other friend naganya does and lebedeva tells marya to punish her as she promised to behave. marya does not simply punish her, she sits on her and places her hand over her mouth as hard as she can so that she cannot breath. until she cries. 

marya is very much more wild a girl from her year of time but there are many things to imply that she is still such an innocent, well girl. when baba yaga takes her to the the factory of yelena’s marya vows to herself that she will save all of these girls that koschei has taken before her. 

and then there is how she perceives the war at this point, marya is very detached from the war of life and death that koschei always fights, she asks him at one point, how the war is going, he says badly, and she says the war is always going badly. there is another occasion where the evening after she sees the yelenas in koscheis factory, she tells naganya she has to see him, that he will wrap her in his arms and refute her worries about the yelena’s. naganya tells her not to, that the war is going badly. marya says, the war is always going badly.

i dont need to elaborate on each event but marya is a much more emotional fragile girl, shes prone to snapping and baring her teeth like a wolf. but you can also see the woman she will be in small gestures she makes. when facing a dragon marya simply crosses her legs and squares her shoulders for she will not show him she is fearful. she earlier, looked at him carefully measuring his mood before she spoke. volchya-yagoda, one of koschei’s horses, says to marya ‘ oh, marya, of course you can’t! even after a year with us you are gentle and kind yet! perhaps more keen to bite and be bitten, to steal and fight, but how warm you are still. how willing to do as you are told. that is no girl to right the mortar. you do not have it in you. come, i will take you to the north wall. you can feth her bauble, and on one will be wiser. ‘ not only do you still SEE much of the softness and girlishness in her from her behavior but someone even says it. although it is here you begin to see the changes in her, for she will not meekly cheat, she thinks she must do this for herself. 

the ultimate tell tale of how much marya has changed is how she treats koschei before and after her marriage to him and ultimately after the time skip. she is so TRUSTING of koschei before she marries him, she thinks even after she sees the yelena’s that koschei must have a reason, an explanation that will make everything better for her. and she thinks that to herself all the while she does baba yagas trials. and after she does the final test, where she steals what she believes is koscheis death and returns to both baba yaga and koschei she is heart broken. she cries and cries because koschei does not speak when baba yaga compares her to the yelenas that have tried to kill koschei in the past. because he calls her a mere girl and because she knows  now he lied about where he hid his death. and it is then that she feels positive that he really did lie to her about the yelenas. 

it is on the day of her wedding that marya is changed forever more, the girl inside her dies and the cruel woman she becomes emerges. she quite literally describes her girlhood dying as something shaking free inside of her. deathless is very prone to substantial time skips and the next time we see marya morevna she is an adult, a general to koscheis war, sitting in her war tent. her knee aches and she is in need of glasses but she is spiteful of her aging while no one else does too.

ivan comes into maryas tent there are important things to not, both in relation to how much she has changed and how much she has not at the same time. she tries to be cruel to ivan but as fate would have it she cannot, she will fall in love with him, she will leave koschei for him. she knows it already. the most important part here is that marya falls onto ivans chest and weeps, she says that she has not wept since the day of her wedding. for retrospect, that was around 12 years ago. which gives you some insight into the fact that marya has hardened her heart so much in those years.

and then there is when she sees koschei, when he finds out that the boy she has with her is an ivan he is furious. and later that evening they fight, marya’s response at dinner is most notable to her change, when koschei gets angry she does not quiver or fear. she grabs him by his face and tells him ‘ you will not deny me.’ she literally says, 

“ don’t you dare speak to me like that. i have worn nothing but blood and death for years. i have fought all your battles for you, just as you asked me. i have learned all the tricks you said i must learn. i have learned not to cry when i strangle a man. i have learned to lay my finger aside my nose and disappear. i have learned to watch everything die. i am not a little girl anymore, dazzled by your magic. it is my magic now too. and if i have watched all my soldiers die in front of me, if i have only been saved by my rife and my own hands, if i have drunk more blood than water for weeks, then i take the human boy who stumbled into my tend and hold him between my legs until i stop screaming, you will not punish me for it. are we not chyerti? are we not devils? i will not even hear your punishment, old man. “

this is important, one of the most important turning points for maryas character. because prior to this koschei was always above her, he always had the upper hand and she was always so docile to him, perhaps she had a bite to her, a little cruelty. but prior to this marya would never have spoken to koschei this way. but we have also missed a LARGE portion of maryas life, the last time we saw her she was likely around 18 or so and now she is a grown woman, likely close to her 30′s. and marya has grown and changed very much since then. koschei is much softer toward her as well, as soft as he can be that is. the balance of their marriage is beginning to tip. koschei begins to show that he truly cares for marya, he begs her to never leave him, he says curse me, do anything to me, but never leave me. and later when they meet after dinner to have sex he tells her that she should leave. that she should go with ivan and grow fat with a child and live happily. he says he doesnt mean it but i believe he really does wish for it, if it is what will make marya most happy. 

marya leaves that night, she takes ivan and she returns home, to her old home, the one she grew up with. and she realizes that she does not feel as happy here as she thought she would. ivan leaves and marya says “ it was all wrong. she was supposed to have found warmth here, like ivans warmth. life, and living. “ she lies on the kitchen floor and falls asleep. later when speaking to zvonok she says “ i wanted to be alive again. i wanted to be someone else.” and its so clear, in even these first moments that marya is discontent already. she feels torn and wrong in this world she left as a girl. she doesn’t feel like she belongs but she cannot go back to buyan and it is here that she begins to feels so empty. she has moments of brightness, moments with kseniya and sofia, they grown close. but all in all marya is not happy here and she was not happy there. marya’s life is fated to be an endless list of tragedies. 

and the story changes once more, koschei comes back for marya, and from what we know he has never returned for another woman. he has merely locked the yelenas away in his factory. but for marya he returns, he kneels before her front door and he weeps and says once more to her, “ i have come for the girl in the window. “ and marya finds her first semblance of joy. marya locks koschei away in her basement and makes ivan promise to never go down into it. i won’t in this post eleborate more on the end of the book, i already went on a bit of a tangenet. but this is important because these are things marya never would have done as a girl. as a girl she was loyal to koschei to a fault, she would never waver from his desires, she would never lock him in her basement and divide herself between he and another man. but marya is a woman changed by war and koscheis cruelty, by his lack of understanding that she is merely a girl, a girl with a heart and a need for love. koschei never once tells marya he loves her, until after he returns for her, he tells marya he loves her. and i think that says a lot about their marriage. there is also the fact that you know they took lovers over the years, each of them did. however this is a much different type of divide, marya never would have loved any of them like she loved koschei, but in her own way she did love ivan. i would say more for what he represented than anything else. i think she loved koschei more than anyone else.

by the end of the novel marya is a wise woman, a very sad woman, a cruel woman who sometimes forgets how to be a person, what it is to be a person. she feels she connects much more with demons, with koschei, her time with them made humanity seem so foreign she struggles with it always. but there is a kind heart in her, a loving heart. it is buried but there still. 

[selenatorsphilippines]

Selena Gomez on Instagram Fatigue, Good Mental Health, and Stepping Back From the Limelight

On an unusually wet and windy evening in Los Angeles, Selena Gomez shows up at my door with a heavy bag of groceries. We’ve decided that tonight’s dinner will be a sort of tribute to the after-church Sunday barbecues she remembers from her Texan childhood. I already have chicken simmering in green salsa, poblano peppers blackening on the flames of the stove, and red cabbage wilting in a puddle of lime juice. All we need are Gomez’s famous cheesy potatoes—so bad they’re good, she promises. She sets down her Givenchy purse and brings up, in gaudy succession, a frozen package of Giant Eagle Potatoes O’Brien, a can of Campbell’s Cream of Chicken soup, a bag of shredded “Mexican cheese,” and a squat plastic canister of French’s Crispy Fried Onions.

“I bet you didn’t think we were going to get this real,” she says, and when I tell her that real isn’t the first word that springs to mind when faced with these ingredients, she responds with the booming battle-ax laugh that offers a foretaste of Gomez’s many enchanting incongruities.

But real is precisely what I was expecting from the 24-year-old Selena, just as her 110 million Instagram followers (Selenators, as they’re known) have come to expect it. Of course, celebrity’s old codes are long gone, MGM’s untouchable eggshell glamour having given way to the “They’re Just Like Us!” era of documented trips to the gas station and cellulite captured by telephoto lenses. But Gomez and her ilk have gone further still, using their smartphones to generate a stardom that seems to say not merely “I’m just like you” but “I am you.”

“People so badly wanted me to be authentic,” she says, laying a tortilla in sizzling oil, “and when that happened, finally, it was a huge release. I’m not different from what I put out there. I’ve been very vulnerable with my fans, and sometimes I say things I shouldn’t. But I have to be honest with them. I feel that’s a huge part of why I’m where I am.” Gomez traces her shift toward the unfiltered back to a song she released in 2014 called “The Heart Wants What It Wants,” a ballad about loving a guy she knows is bad news. The title derives from a letter written by Emily Dickinson, though Woody Allen reintroduced the phrase when he used it to describe his relationship with Soon-Yi Previn. We can assume that Gomez is referring here to Justin Bieber, with whom she ended a three-year relationship at around the time the song debuted.

If you are over 30 and find yourself somewhat mystified by Gomez’s fame, unable to attach it to any art object—apart from several inescapable pop songs and a cameo in The Big Short in which, as herself, she explains synthetic collateralized debt obligations—then you might wish to watch the video for “The Heart Wants What It Wants.” (You will be late to the party; it received more than nine million views in the first 24 hours following its release.) Before the music begins, we hear Gomez’s voice as if from a recorded psychotherapy session, ruminating over a betrayal. “Feeling so confident, feeling so great about myself,” she says, her voice breaking, “and then it’d just be completely shattered by one thing. By something so stupid.” Sobs. “But then you make me feel crazy. You make me feel like it’s my fault.” Is this acting? Is it a HIPAA violation? Either way, there is magic in the way it makes you feel as if you’ve just shared in her suffering. Pay dirt for a Selenator.

Gomez queues up a playlist—Dolly Parton, Kenny Rogers—and back in the kitchen, there is a chile relleno casserole to assemble, green enchiladas to roll, and her cheesy potatoes to mix together. As I slip an apron over her mane of chocolate-brown hair, for which Pantene has paid her millions, and tie it around her tiny waist, I wonder whether her legions have felt for years the same sharp pang of protectiveness that I’m feeling at present. Even as she projects strength and self-assuredness, Gomez is not stingy with frailty. “I’ve cried onstage more times than I can count, and I’m not a cute crier,” she says. Last summer, after the North American and Asian legs of her “Revival” tour, with more than 30 concerts remaining, she abruptly shut things down and checked into a psychiatric facility in Tennessee. (This was the second time Gomez had canceled a tour to enter into treatment; in January 2014, shortly after being diagnosed with lupus, she spent two weeks at the Meadows, the Arizona center that has welcomed Tiger Woods, Rush Limbaugh, and Kate Moss.) The cause, she says, was not an addiction or an eating disorder or burnout, exactly.

“Tours are a really lonely place for me,” she explains. “My self-esteem was shot. I was depressed, anxious. I started to have panic attacks right before getting onstage, or right after leaving the stage. Basically I felt I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t capable. I felt I wasn’t giving my fans anything, and they could see it—which, I think, was a complete distortion. I was so used to performing for kids. At concerts I used to make the entire crowd raise up their pinkies and make a pinky promise never to allow anybody to make them feel that they weren’t good enough. Suddenly I have kids smoking and drinking at my shows, people in their 20s, 30s, and I’m looking into their eyes, and I don’t know what to say. I couldn’t say, ‘Everybody, let’s pinky-promise that you’re beautiful!’ It doesn’t work that way, and I know it because I’m dealing with the same shit they’re dealing with. What I wanted to say is that life is so stressful, and I get the desire to just escape it. But I wasn’t figuring my own stuff out, so I felt I had no wisdom to share. And so maybe I thought everybody out there was thinking, This is a waste of time.”

On August 15, Gomez uploaded a photo of almost baroque drama: her body collapsed on the stage, bathed in beatific light. Whether this was agony or ecstasy, it drew more than a million comments from fans (who have handles like “selena_is_my_life_forever”). It would be her last Instagram post for more than three months. She flew to Tennessee, surrendered her cell phone, and joined a handful of other young women in a program that included individual therapy, group therapy, even equine therapy. “You have no idea how incredible it felt to just be with six girls,” she says, “real people who couldn’t give two shits about who I was, who were fighting for their lives. It was one of the hardest things I’ve done, but it was the best thing I’ve done.” She stayed for 90 days, making her first post-treatment appearance last November at the American Music Awards, where she collected the trophy for Favorite Pop/Rock Female Artist and gave a tearful speech about her struggles; it quickly went viral.

In the tearoom at the Peninsula Beverly Hills hotel, little girls in pinafores and pink high-tops sit on heavily tasseled sofas and drink sparkling apple juice out of champagne flutes. One by one they approach our table, shyness replaced by rapturous giggles as Gomez praises their pretty dresses and invites them to sit with her for a picture. Her seemingly infinite patience with these intrusions is something between a habit and a principle. “Somebody I used to hang out with would always get very frustrated with me,” she says, presumably referring to Bieber, whose name she will not utter. “But I have a hard time saying no to children.”

Donna Gigliotti, who produced The Fundamentals of Caring, a 2016 drama in which Gomez plays the love interest of a boy with muscular dystrophy, recalls the throngs of children ready to engulf her outside the set even in rural Georgia. “They love her because she is so generous and so authentic,” Gigliotti says. “I admit that I didn’t quite understand her huge fan base at first. Now I see her as a sort of third-generation feminist. She’s adorable and flirty and funny, but she’s also kind of kick-ass. I think her young fans go wild for that combination.”

“There’s a vulnerability about Selena,” says Paul Rudd, her costar in The Fundamentals of Caring. “She’s never trying to sell herself or impress anyone. She doesn’t put on airs, and she was a good sport about really long days in sometimes uncomfortable conditions. You’d never know she was so famous by the way she behaved, which, I think, is a huge key to her appeal.”

Doll-like and startled in pictures but almost breathtakingly at ease in person, Gomez was once described by her good friend Taylor Swiftas “both 40 years old and seven years old.” She grew up in Grand Prairie, Texas, raised by a single mother who was sixteen when she was born. Gomez remembers being asked to feel between the cushions in the car for change so that they could buy Styrofoam cups of ramen. But at age seven, after a few years on the pageant circuit, she landed a role on the children’s show Barney & Friends, which shot in Dallas and recruited talent locally. By twelve she was one of Disney’s young players, plucked out of thousands of hopefuls. At thirteen she moved to Los Angeles with her mother and stepfather, and the following year Disney gave her the lead in Wizards of Waverly Place, a sitcom about a family of wizards who own a downtown Manhattan restaurant. The show was a hit, and Disney did what Disney does, fanning Gomez’s talent across music and movies, with her mother, Mandy Teefey, continuing to act as her manager. (Gomez hired a Hollywood management firm in 2014, after her first mental-health crisis, but she continues to develop projects with her mother and prizes her opinion above all others.) “I worked with Disney for four years,” Gomez says. “It’s a very controlled machine. They know what they represent, and there was, 100 percent, a way to go about things.”

No child star enjoys easy passage through the morass of adolescence, and Gomez struggled to shed her blandly perky Wizards persona. “For a guy there’s a way to rebel that can work for you,” she believes. “But for a woman, that can backfire. It’s hard not to be a cliché, the child star gone wrong. I did respect my fans and what I had, but I was also figuring out what I was passionate about and how far I was willing to go.” The first thing she did post-Disney was Harmony Korine’s darkly lurid Spring Breakers, a 2013 film about four college girls on a rampage of sex, drugs, and murder. (Gomez played Faith, the one who can’t quite stomach it all and heads back early.) “My mom wanted me to work with a director who would really push me,” she recalls. “I watched Kids, Trash Humpers, Gummo, and I was like, Mom, are you crazy? But it was fun to imagine how you might behave if you were set free of whatever was holding you captive. I’m a late bloomer. I grew up around adults, but in terms of getting out, having friends—at times I really didn’t know anything but my job.”

In retrospect, Gomez’s childhood successes were always tinged with sadness. “My mom gave up her whole life for me,” she explains. “Where we’re from, you don’t really leave. So when I started gaining all this success, there was a guilt that came with it. I thought, Do I deserve this?” Though she has been in several other films since Spring Breakers, Gomez has enjoyed greater success as a musician. And yet the musician’s life exhausts her. On film sets she is buffered by the ensemble and can retreat into her character, but in a concert, all eyes fix upon her. “It’s weird,” she says, “to get up onstage and have everybody know where you were last night.”

With the tour and treatment behind her, lately Gomez is feeling unusually relaxed. The Netflix miniseries 13 Reasons Why, which she executive-produced, airs this month, and it addresses several issues dear to her, among them teen suicide and the pressures of social media. Eight years ago, Gomez and her mother reached out to Jay Asher, who wrote the novel from which the series has been adapted. Its title refers to the thirteen reasons why its protagonist, Hannah Baker, chose to take her life. “I didn’t know much about Selena back then,” Asher remembers. “I think I watched Princess Protection Program to prepare. She explained to me how deeply she connected to the book, which is really about how there’s no way to know what people deal with. In that very first meeting we talked about Twitter, and I remember her telling me that there’s this idea that celebrities aren’t supposed to notice or care about what’s being said about them. But she can’t help but care.”

Gomez has also been in the recording studio off and on, and in February she released “It Ain’t Me,” a song cut last November, produced by the Norwegian DJ Kygo. It’s both a dance-floor anthem and a polemic against dependency and enmeshment. (“Who’s gonna walk you through the dark side of the morning?” she sings. “It ain’t me.” A few years back, it might well have been Gomez.) She is collaborating with Coach on a line of accessories, out this fall, and Stuart Vevers, the house’s creative director, recently met with her in Los Angeles for a bit of brainstorming. “There’s a very warm and inclusive way that Selena has with her fans,” Vevers says. “That’s the nature of her power. What fashion house wouldn’t want to tap into that?”

There are no movies in the works and no time pressure from her record label. “For a change,” she says, “it feels like I don’t have to be holding my breath and waiting for somebody to judge a piece of work that I’m doing. I’m not eager to chase a moment. I don’t think there’s a moment for me to chase.” Gomez currently lives in an Airbnb in the Valley and honestly doesn’t get out much, except for long drives with her girlfriends: a realtor, a techie, some folks from church. “I think seventeen people have my phone number right now,” she says. “Maybe two are famous.” She is taking Spanish, which she spoke fluently as a little girl but lost, in the hope of recording some Spanish-language music in the future. She sees her shrink five days a week and has become a passionate advocate of Dialectical Behavior Therapy, a technique developed to treat borderline personality disorder that is now used more broadly, with its emphasis on improving communication, regulating emotions, and incorporating mindfulness practices. “DBT has completely changed my life,” she says. “I wish more people would talk about therapy. We girls, we’re taught to be almost too resilient, to be strong and sexy and cool and laid-back, the girl who’s down. We also need to feel allowed to fall apart.”

She has hardly been posting on Instagram. In fact, the app is no longer on her phone, and she doesn’t even have the password to her own account. (It’s now in the possession of her assistant.) She sometimes fantasizes about disappearing from social media altogether. “As soon as I became the most followed person on Instagram, I sort of freaked out,” Gomez says. “It had become so consuming to me. It’s what I woke up to and went to sleep to. I was an addict, and it felt like I was seeing things I didn’t want to see, like it was putting things in my head that I didn’t want to care about. I always end up feeling like shit when I look at Instagram. Which is why I’m kind of under the radar, ghosting it a bit.”

Well, not entirely under the radar. A few days after we met, Gomez flew to Italy with her new beau, The Weeknd, and the paparazzi did not fail to notice. (Neither did The Weeknd’s ex, the model Bella Hadid, who took to social media and promptly unfollowed Gomez.) When I ask Gomez about the romance, she tells me that everything she has said about her relationships in the past has come back to bite her, and that she will never do it again.

“Oh, Mylanta!” she wails, watching her cheesy potatoes travel around the table, a whiff of the simpler joys of home. “Look, I love what I do, and I’m aware of how lucky I am, but—how can I say this without sounding weird? I just really can’t wait for people to forget about me.”

Source: Vogue

[hgihrepaeryster]

A Meeting with Iroh

[Warning: depression, self-loathing, and self-harm are discussed in this story.]

Taking a deep inhalation of the steam floating above his tea, Iroh sat at his plain wooden desk and looked over his paperwork. There was one last student scheduled for today, and it was one he didn’t recognize. Meeting with new students was both a delight and a sorrow, as they each carried with them new baggage that needed to be sorted out. Then again, that’s why he was posted as a counselor at Reaper High.

“Your four o’clock has arrived.” Ms. Bellum’s voice notified him over an intercom.

“Very good,” Iroh responded. “I am ready for him.”

Will entered cautiously. The only thing he’d gotten used to at this school was how there was nothing you could get used to. When he realized how genuinely beautiful the atmosphere was in Iroh’s “office,” however, he was genuinely in awe; lit by dozens of candles, there were two chairs and a sofa set across from Iroh’s desk, all made out of a deep, rich wood that shared the same color as Iroh’s burgundy robes. A small fountain in the corner murmured with flowing water, an apparently natural formation against which the room seemed to have been built.

“You must be William!” Iroh greeted with a smile as warm as the flames. “Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. Would you care for some tea?  Lemongrass and chamomile: just the thing for addled nerves.” He offered the mugful he’d just finished making.

Will didn’t normally care for tea, but so long as it was being offered, he was willing to accept. The aroma wafting through the office was quite wonderful, as well. “Yes, thanks.” He replied, accepting the mug as it was passed over to him. Sitting himself down in a chair, he watched as Iroh brought up another mug, filled it with water from the fountain, held it over a candle, and with a wave of his hand caused the flame to engulf the entire bottom of the cup. It wasn’t very long until the water bubbled from the intensity, at which point the old man allowed the flame to die down (the candle had melted halfway down from the heat) and dipped a silk bag containing more herbs into the boiling liquid.

“I am Iroh.” The wizened one began, setting the tea aside to cool as he reached for paper to take notes. “My responsibility is to see to the well-being of those who need it most, and to give students paths where they may see none. You have been here for only so little time, so I can understand if this is an overwhelming atmosphere for you.  Hopefully, I can be of some assistance in helping you navigate it.”

“Thank you,” Will smiled softly. “I was recommended to come see you by Ms. Bellum not long after I got here.  She said you could have some insight into my...problems.”

“I may,” Iroh nodded. “First, I must know what these ‘problems’ are. Take your time.”

“Okay...” Will shifted in his chair, taking a sip of tea. This wasn’t his first experience with a counselor, but it was never easy to explain himself. “I’ve had a long history of self-deprecation. Over the past couple of months, it’s been getting worse and worse, and ever since I came to this school five days ago, I feel like it may be impeding my ability to work.”

“How so?”

“I focus on my faults almost all the time, even when I should be focusing on schoolwork or other things. I keep beating myself up over my mistakes. I’ve tried branching out; Ms. Bellum set me up with meeting a few other students at a picnic, which was...nice? I guess? But it’s still hard for me to admit to any good qualities in myself, and even when I do I have to diminish them.”

“Why?” Iroh questioned.

“I don’t want to be seen as egotistical,” Will answered, “or believing myself to be anything more than I really am. I’ve seen people at other schools put on airs to get popular, but here it’s even more intense. The Krust cousins, the Delightful Children from Down the Lane, Princess...I fear becoming like them so badly.”

“Doing so at the cost of your own livelihood does not help you.” Iroh replied. “Putting yourself down will never pick you back up.”

“I don’t see any other way to go about it, though.” Will sulked. “All I’m doing is being honest about myself.”

“What sort of things do you believe about yourself?”

Will’s mind was quickly filled with examples. He had trouble choosing, though that was mostly because of the hurt each one carried.

No one should ever have to love me; that would be too cruel to them, to let them get hurt by all of my shortcomings. If I really cared about them, I’d do my best to stay out of their way.

What the hell sort of business do I have getting attracted to Jenny? She’s way out of my league and already has a boy with a crush on her that she tolerates - maybe even likes - so why bother giving her another person to worry about? I’m already enough of a creep without having to add “infatuated perv” to the list, yet here i am.

I’m so worthless. When Dad was my age, he was getting advanced placement courses. I’m barely passing my basic requirements. And he’s made himself a multi-billionaire while all I do is live off of his livelihood. What a spiffing example of a self-dependent human being.

I get frightened by the smallest things. I’m a natural klutz. I have nothing redeeming in terms of skill. Socially I might as well be some sort of alien stranger to humans, yet even the aliens here tend to have better social lives than I do.

And for all the pain I’ve caused myself over the years, the one thing I know is that I deserved every single moment of it.

“Talk to me, William.” Iroh requested, concerned. “What are you feeling?”

“I feel...like I don’t deserve any help.” Will finally admitted. “Every bad thing that’s ever happened to me is because I deserved that instead.”

Iroh looked very serious as he continued writing this down. “What makes you so deserving of poor fortune?”

“I...exist?” Will shrugged.

“That’s a very poor reason.” Iroh stated plainly. “Everyone exists; does that make them eligible for this same treatment? Do you suppose I am not deserving of happiness?”

“Not at all!″ Will denied, fervently shaking his head. ”I wouldn’t wish this on anyone else!”

“Then why wish it upon yourself?”

“Because...” This gave Will some genuine pause, until he thought back to his comparisons to the “popular” kids. “...because it’s better than the alternative.”

“You are mistaking one alternative for all alternatives.” Iroh corrected. “There are many paths to happiness, but none of them involve inflicting so much hatred upon yourself. It’s nice to be aware of your ego, but in many ways the ego is what motivates you to survive; throttle it into extinction, and you are throttling the rest of yourself as well.”

“So what do I do?” Will asked. “Keep myself alive by feeding myself ‘You’re a good person’ and other bullshi-” He covered his mouth to keep from saying a curse in front of a faculty member.

Iroh gave a wry grin. “Regardless of the truth of such a statement: even the most beautiful, pleasant-smelling flower can do with some strong fertilizer. At any rate, from what I see in you, I see a strong desire to be a good person. It simply needs to be manifested in a healthier way than putting yourself down.”

“I don’t know how else to do it, apart from hurting myself like I’ve been doing.”

Iroh looked up. “You mean emotionally?”

“Yes..” Will said, trailing off slightly.

“And physically?”

After a pause, Will nodded quietly. He’d never admitted this to anyone before, not even his father. “When I’m at my absolute worst. Not often.” He buried his head in his hands. “Yet too often.”

“With what intent?”

“It’s like to...to knock myself into my senses.” Will began tearing up. “I don’t know if I can describe it that well. I’m the one that’s sick here.”

Iroh gave a nod of somber recognition. “An explanation isn’t quite that important. What is important, however, is that I am here for you even if it seems like no one else is. If you find yourself in such a situation that you need to do such a thing, consider talking to me as an alternative.”

Will took a deep breath. “I will.”

Iroh got up and placed a gentle hand upon the young man’s shoulder.. “Together, we can conquer this darkness within and bring you to the light you deserve.”