#and it flows into Comet beautifully

[danielpowell]

Dark sky driving (Driving) Driving 'cause my heart's on fire, ooh Dark sky driving (Driving) Comets never have a curfew Dark sky driving, driving away (Away) And I'm never coming home, no way (No way) And I'm tired of the seasons, okay? (Okay?) And I'm tangled in a starry buffet

[plutopitou]

◇ Crimson Comet

keigo takami | hawks x female reader

genre: nsfw smut, angstyyy

He comes and goes like a reoccurring comet in the sky that you admire. A constant game of push and pull; you’ll do anything for him to not leave you again. And Keigo just can’t say no to his pretty girl on her knees begging | 18+ MDNI

word count: 2.8k

warnings: he’s mean again haha but not really. Thigh/boot riding, smut, throat fucking, reader cries and is needy and desperate, dumbification :o angsty storyline- keigo has commitment issues

thank you guys so much for the response on my first post last week, hope you enjoy this one as well ♡

He almost makes it to the edge of the door before you pool yourself to the ground in front of him, falling like a tower of bricks. Tears are dripping faster than your heart down the sides of his boots, laminating the hard leather shoe, giving the moon an opportunity to reflect back at you from the chill of the open window. The ambiance overwhelming the room perfectly with your sorrowful fervor.

Whimpering, clutching on the thick fabric of his pants, so close you can smell the faint scent of linen and fresh air, air he glides through with ease; a comet in your sky.

You don’t want him to pass you by like the rest of them.

Past partners disappointing you to no end; consistently leaving you to the dust as if you never mattered and can’t give enough to satisfy when you gave them everything you had. Your heart pinches with the thought of him being a past memory, not wanting to let go as if he’ll immediately disappear. You will give every material item, every part of your body for his to own to just stay.

The winged hero is a very passionate person when he needs to be, when it’s short term. A type of skill that had to be learned. Feigning a type of emotion was almost easier than presenting it naturally, losing his real sense of zealousness many years ago.

However with you, he found his smiles to be something that did not come as a second thought. Finding himself feel a sense of accomplishment and joy whenever he saw the corners of your lip quirk up in laughter from his many quick-witted jokes. He knew from how quick his heart paced when he glazed his eyes down your withering body underneath him buzzing for more that you make him genuine.

He sees how much your eyes light up in excitement when he comes through the balcony, counting on him as if he was your boyfriend.

But he just loves to dangle the candle connected to your heart in front of you and tease snuffing it out just to see your face, his sadistic nature always coming to fruition. He just isn’t sure how long he can keep it up before he disappoints you, he is trying to do you a favor. The best thing is to abandon your purity before the stain can never come out.

And the truth being he is not your boyfriend. Someone that comes and goes for weeks at a time is not a partner, and it is reminded to Keigo every day. But you make it so hard for him to stay away when you beg like this.

The golden locked man doesn’t dare speak a word, eyes drooping in exhaustion watching you plead and beg for him to stay. A warzone in his soul fighting the threshold of satisfaction he gets from seeing you beg so beautifully below him with a twinge of pain in his heart that never goes unnoticed. Pushing your hair back he wants to see your face in its glory, looking up at him like a shrine, completely flushed out, tears flowing down swollen lips he would kill to fuck in this moment.

Rubbing his large, glove covered hand over your lustrous cheeks, thumb over your lips, Keigo wanted to let you down softly. “Sweet girl, you know I can’t do this anymore, we’ve been over this..” He can’t help but puff a soft sigh, not halfway finished before he watches the dam in your weary eyes spill over even more, digging your head in his hand trying to cover up your hiccups of sorrow.

You sit back on your calfs completely drained, wiping your eyes trying to stabilize your uneven breath. “K-Kei.. please don’t leave me-”

Because you weren’t sure he would come back this time.

Keigo crouches down just above eye level looking down at your weeping figure as if you’re a child, analyzing just how bad you want it with a sharp, stoic stare. He’s always had an aptitude for how heavy his gaze can be, it makes you shuffle in discomfort and want to turn away in insecurity. His large vermilion wings downturned behind him trying not to give away his next move.

You avoid the set of eyes on his handsome face, choosing to look at his sharp nose, or the light unshaven stubble on his chin. Your head pondering the possibility of him staying, what do you have to do?

Finally, you stare back at him longingly, swiftly trying to move close for a kiss but before you fill the gap, he clutches your jaw harshly with a single hand, squishing your cheeks together in the process. Not once sharing a kiss together, he was taken aback, giving you a gut reaction.

He can very clearly see your miserable, devestated face, knowing just how much you’d give up for him. The golden-eyed man revels in your submissive nature, and deep down he knows he’s a poisonous plant you have to stop eating from because you think it’s safe.

How many times did he have to remind you of that?

This is exactly what he didn’t want. He didn’t want you to give up the last ounce of respect you have for yourself in exchange for his love, for his attention. But there is no use trying to change the mind of a person who has already made it up. And if you want it so bad your only choice is to parade yourself for him, for his enjoyment.

“Show me, then.” He whispers softly.

Keigo thinks it’s so cute watching your eyes light up with hope. “Show you what?” You ask meekly, playing with your hands in your lap from the anxiety.

“Show me how bad you want it, how badly you want me to stay..” he says as he sits up and leans back, “In any way you think is necessary.. but you’re really gonna have to beg for this one, birdy.” Keigo looks down at you as he settles himself on the edge of the table.

You immediately knew he wasn’t looking for some heart to heart discussion. And to be fair you both never actually used a real conversation to fix your problems, unless the ones where you cry while he fucks you, mock asking why you’re such a bitch for him counts.

He crosses his arms, waiting to see what you’ll do when he’s not the one pushing you.

Looking down you feel the pressure of him putting you on the spot. Your old tears still a little bubble reflecting the moonlight on his black leather work boots. Secretly, Keigo knows you love when he bosses you around, telling you what to do and how to do it, silly little girl would not even let him ask twice.

It’s like he always knew what would happen, you’ll do anything for him.

Gaining a sudden rush of confidence, you softly grab and pull the leather glove off his hand, it feeling warm and slightly calloused from years of hero work, veins showing just how much power he has. Pushing your skirt up you sit your covered slit directly on his boot and hump slowly, letting your body heat up turning soft and weak for him.

Keigo looks at you with hidden lust letting you guide his thumb into your hot mouth, shooting a low curse under his breath watching you look so erotic for him. So eager you practically fuck yourself on his leg, gripping on, cheek smooshed against his knee while you suck his thumb because your mouth is so wanting.

You writhe and moan, your slick pairing with the smooth material of his boot, making it so easy for you to glide up and down, leaking even more from how good it feels. Keigo struggles to hold back, his sweet girl who is his little pillow princess finally taking what she wants for once, contaminating you once more. Gazing down your lidded eyes he thinks you’d look so much better if he just locked your head and shoved it into his clothed cock.

On a shooting star, Keigo wished you were like every other woman he’s been intimate with, if you were it would make him walking away from you so much easier than this. Wishing you were someone that was just as fucked up as him, but you never carried such a sadistic nature he does, and he knew if someone shot at his bleeding body you wouldn’t hesitate to jump in front.

But look where it has the both of you, once again mewing for him to dick you down. And it’s exactly what he’s going to do to you.

Keigo rips his hand out your mouth, immediately ripping his thick work jacket off his body. Standing over you, you can’t help but feel so helpless and wet in the process; the reciprocated attention blazing through your body like little white sparkles.

He shows off his amazing invert triange upper body that took years of hard work to maintain, you watch it flex underneath his black and gold accented compression shirt, not even bothering to remove it. The long sleeved clothing he only wears in the winter. You feel so lucky to be up close, watching his lean body ache for you as you do him.

Keigo rips his belt off, slides his pants down just enough to bring out his hard cock. Not wanting to wait any longer you immediately bring your head in just for a taste.

He grips the back of your hair by the root, grips the base and holds it close enough to kiss but not touch, looking so intimidating. “Don’t be so fucking impatient..”

Scoffing, Keigo arches your head, “Give it a nice good lick, sweetheart, then maybe i’ll think about fucking your mouth, alright?”

Without a second thought you tilt back your neck and lick from base to tip with Keigo’s hand digging in your hair, hissing with a light curse. You love watching him hold back so much, feigning to be the good guy here. Locking eyes you give a slight lick against his tip, wiping away the escaped precum with a cute smile, watching the slight shiver from his exhaled breath.

A fake laugh escapes his lips, smiling while tounging his top canine tooth in surprise. “Ok, birdy, lets play it your way.” Taking ahold of your jaw, he squeezes, pushing the grip of his cock right into your hot whore mouth. “Oh fuck-“ Keigo releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding until he finally enters your hot cavernous mouth.

It’s the way you let him do this, that is what makes him so ridiculously hard for you. The way you flower yourself open for him without being told, he can’t help but be so eager to take advantage of you; of your wanting-ness, your desperation, the way your eyes roll back and push your folds harder onto his leather shoe, trying to suck up more of his masculine essence.

It’s the way he didn’t even have to push hard on the back of your head for you to already try and gag yourself from his tip in the back of your throat. When you get like this, can you even blame him? Can you blame him when he pumps shallow thrusts into your mouth even though you weakly tap his thighs trying to let him know you can’t breathe?

Keigo really can’t help himself, can he?

He lets you gag one last time before he finally pulls out with a low groan followed by a curse. If only you could see yourself right now, trying to fumble between coughing and breathing with spit dripping down your chin, string still connecting you two.

Your scattered breathing finally rests as you catch your breath, a light glaze across the whites of your eyes. Keigo looks at you with a faux coo, mocking a pout at you like a parent to their little baby that hurt their head on accident. “Can’t take any more?”

Heaving, your dumb little head was so fucked you couldn’t think about much other than how much your lower half ached in anguish for release, how even though you can’t think your body continues to hump, leaving bruised knees.

Keigo lifts you up; your legs like jello, letting you lean on him for support. You sit confused what he wants to do next.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, “Well don’t stop, you gotta keep going till you cum, dont you?” You meekly nod resting your head on his chest gripping on his arm for leverage as you continue to please yourself on his thigh, the thick cords of muscle through his pants massages your wet cunt, soaking him immediately. “Yeah, you gotta fuckin cum on me..” he murmurs, peppering soft jelly kisses on the sides of your head, rubbing your waist and squish of your ass in encouragement.

You can’t do more than whine how it’s just too much, but Keigo can’t even understand you, your eyes are lidded just muttering jibberish. That familiar coil, it’s so hard to ignore- how if the whole world was suddenly watching you couldn’t even get yourself to stop, absolutely uncontrollable.

His hard cock presses up against your front, waiting till it can fuck your tight hole that’s leaking on his thigh. But he couldn’t be so impatient and self-serving, he wanted you to have your release first, wanting to just feel you finish your promise. And once you do he’s gonna feel you squirt all over his abdomen as he jackrabbits your overstimmed pussy, exploiting yourself to him as a desperate bitch he knew you were.

“Kei, I can’t-“ your hips hold a mind of their own. You can feel your slick spread all over, helping you glide faster to reach what is so close. Looking up you’re practically face to face with the one you wish could reciprocate a title you will always have for him, a lover.

Keigo can see it perfectly, how you still hold a hopefulness in your heart, the grip he has on you that he wants to let go of but you won’t let him- or maybe he just can’t get himself to actually do it. Because getting you to plead up at him like he’s your higher power is so much easier than him finally expressing how much you really affect his life force.

He doesn’t know if he can ever correctly communicate the great fondness he possesses to you. But no matter what, you’ll be sitting there waiting for him. That’s all you do.

He’s the first to lean into you, grasping your lips with fervor, the passion dripping out his mouth into yours. You kiss him back, exchanging a type of warmth you never expected him to give, it was warmer than the words he spews, more comforting than the small kiss he’ll give on occasion to your cheek.

It sends you over the edge, the sudden butterflies dance with the sparkles in your belly, hotly moaning into his mouth feeling yourself cum on him, the sweet passions melting together causing you to jerk from the staggering stimulation.

Yelping in his chest the coil unwraps, feeling your cum seep out onto his thigh. You slow down from the exhaustion, body slowly falling back having no strength left to hold yourself up. Keigo quickly grabs your wrist, pulling you back up to brush his lips against yours once again.

The kiss sealing the hope you still possessed, you feel you had finally done it; but Keigo holds you up rushing towards the bed, and he is long from done with you.

.

.

.

Waking from slumber your body temperature feels colder than it did when you fell asleep in Keigo’s warm embrace after he continued to push you to your limits. A leaking sunbeam pokes your eyes forcing you to look around.

Empty.

Your heart feels heavy and you almost wanted to yell at it, saying you should’ve known this was going to happen and expected it.

Glancing around the room, it’s when you see it. In a room full of color it’s still the brightest and most beautiful one, practically glowing blood red. It’s the same as the last times he’s done this. Leaving a small quill until the time passes by and he returns back to you and leaves again. That schedule has never been a consistent algorithm, just the outcome.

You can watch him on television or find him on his stupid social media he doesn’t even run. You only ever tried texting him once and never got a response during his departure, but it will all never add up to him standing over you, caressing your mind, body and soul with what comes to feel like empty promises.

And so all you can do now is wait, just like he knows you will. Because again, that is all you do. Just waiting for your bright red comet to come back around and do it all all over again to you.

This was not meant to be any longer than 1.5k words haha, but I feel as if it wrote itself and turned out how it was supposed to be. Ending was a bit more bittersweet than I imagined.

Stay tuned for Getou or Aizawa content soon!

Dont be afraid to send in any ideas or critiques, I hope you all continue to support me, and stay well.

Please like, follow and reblog, love yall ♡

[paragonrobits]

story concept; a series of isolated but recurring bits from Marceline's life exploring how over her entire life she's known a constant stream of heartbreak, betrayal and loss; she loses everyone, one way or another, until she meets Finn.

Her mother abandons her, and she thinks its because she's a monster that scared her mother way when all she was trying to do was help. Her father was never around for her, as a child.

She and Simon find each other, and for a while, they're happy; a real family. But you can't conquer the crown. He feels it winning, and he leaves her so he doesn't hurt her (and he still hurts her; her face is cut up by him freezing her tears on accident, but it doesn't hurt as much as her not being able to stay with ihm). Hunson is there, and his negligence is worse than anyone's deliberate malice.

She finds humans. People like her mother, like what Simon once was, and she can't be with them. She wants to have a family with them, but they're scared of her; scared of the monster that saves them. And in the end, she can't go with them, but has to stay behind to protect them.

A thousand years, they come and go, and it remains the same; people leave her. Either they get old and die on her and she can't do anything to save them (because she's a monster, she thinks, and monsters don't save people). Or they get mean on her; they're controlling and abusive, and even at her angriest, all she can do is tearfully storm out. Maybe its proof she's not a monster like her father, but inside all she can do is feel weak and upset, like she's losing more pieces of herself.

She and Bubblegum are happy, for a while. But only a while. Bonnibel takes things too seriously, too obsessed with control and fear, seeing too much of a world around them that's gone because people just let things happen. Marceline can't care. She's been hurt too much, caring for too long, and she just doesn't want to try anymore. It breaks down. It's okay, she thinks.

She'll just mess with people. She'll play games, and act like she doesn't take it seriously. Pretend that she's not carrying around a thousand years worth of grief, heartbreak and loss. Pretend hard enough, act like the monster she has to believe she is, and maybe everyone else will believe it to.

She's a monster, she thinks. She doesn't get to have things like real friends, or loved ones, or family. She doesn't even notice things like humans disappearing, and that one showing up is a novelty.

And then, she meets him.

(Finn won't leave her.

A smiling boy with eyes like a blazing comet she once saw, a long time ago, tearing up the sky beautifully and soft.

She can be as scary as she likes; she can pretend to be a monster as much as she wants, scare him as best as she knows how, and he doesn't even blink. He just smiles and laughs and rolls with it.

She hears that no one even knows what a human is anymore; people don't connect the dots with how similar they look, and don't realize she and Finn are kin, in a distant way; that in a small sense the blood flowing in him is the same kind of blood that once moved in her mother, the same thoughts moving on the same blood.

She sees him, she meets him, and he won't leave, no matter how she tries to scare him off. He looks at her with a big wide eyed smile as he declares that she is one of his best friends in the world, and somehow she can't bear to run away or try to scare him away anymore.

He sees her for what she could be; the monster in her father's image. Other people ran away, just seeing a shadow of that.

He doesn't run away. It just makes him fight harder to bring her back.

He brings her back, and brings her many other things to.

Because of him, she and Bonnibel start talking, and old hurts start to fade. Because of him, Ice King becomes calmer, gentler, the horror of what he's become starting to melt away, and before she knows it he's back in her life.

She thinks to herself that a monster like herself doesn't deserve someone like him.

He stays anyway.)

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

BepiColombo's best images yet highlight fourth Mercury flyby

The ESA/JAXA BepiColombo mission has successfully completed its fourth of six gravity assist flybys at Mercury, capturing images of two special impact craters as it uses the little planet's gravity to steer itself on course to enter orbit around Mercury in November 2026.

The closest approach took place at 23:48 CEST (21:48 UTC) on 4 September 2024, with BepiColombo coming down to around 165 km above the planet's surface. For the first time, the spacecraft had a clear view of Mercury's south pole.

"The main aim of the flyby was to reduce BepiColombo's speed relative to the sun, so that the spacecraft has an orbital period around the sun of 88 days, very close to the orbital period of Mercury," says Frank Budnik, BepiColombo Flight Dynamics Manager.

"In this regard it was a huge success, and we are right where we wanted to be at this moment. But it also gave us the chance to take photos and carry out science measurements, from locations and perspectives that we will never reach once we are in orbit."

Images from BepiColombo's three monitoring cameras have arrived back on Earth, providing a unique view of Mercury's surface from three different angles. BepiColombo approached Mercury from the 'nightside' of the planet, with Mercury's cratered surface becoming increasingly lit up by the sun as the spacecraft flew by.

M-CAM 2 provided the best views of the planet during this flyby, capturing more and more of the planet as BepiColombo came round to the side of Mercury lit by the sun. M-CAM 3 also chipped in a stunning image of a newly named impact crater.

M-CAMs 2 and 3 are now switched off, but M-CAM 1 will continue imaging Mercury until about midnight tonight (24 hours after closest approach), getting a beautiful view of the planet receding into the distance.

Mercury lays bare its Four Seasons

Four minutes after closest approach, a large 'peak ring basin' came into BepiColombo's view. These mysterious craters—created by powerful asteroid or comet impacts and measuring about 130–330 km across—are called peak rings basins after the inner ring of peaks on an otherwise flattish floor.

This large crater is Vivaldi, after the famous Italian composer Antonio Vivaldi (1678–1741). It measures 210 km across, and because BepiColombo saw it so close to the sunrise line, its landscape is beautifully emphasized by shadow. There is a visible gap in the ring of peaks, where more recent lava flows have entered and flooded the crater.

First sight of crater newly named after New Zealand artist

Just a couple of minutes later, another special peak ring basin came into view. This one measures 155 km across.

"When we were planning for this flyby, we saw that this crater would be visible and decided it would be worth naming due to its potential interest for BepiColombo scientists in the future," explains David Rothery, Professor of Planetary Geosciences at the UK's Open University and a member of the BepiColombo M-CAM imaging team.

Following a request from the M-CAM team, the ancient crater was recently assigned the name Stoddart by the International Astronomical Union's Working Group for Planetary System Nomenclature after Margaret Olrog Stoddart (1865–1934), an artist from New Zealand known for her flower paintings.

"Mercury's peak ring basins are fascinating because many aspects of how they formed are currently still a mystery. The rings of peaks are presumed to have resulted from some kind of rebound process during the impact, but the depths from which they were uplifted are still unclear," continues David.

Many of Mercury's peak ring basins have been flooded by volcanic lava flows long after the original impact. This has happened inside both Vivaldi and Stoddart. Inside Stoddart, the trace of a 16-km-wide crater that must have formed on the original floor is clearly visible through a covering of more recent lava flows.

Peak ring basins are among the high-priority targets for study by BepiColombo once it gets into orbit around Mercury and is able to deploy its full suite of scientific instruments.

A taste of Mercury science

The snapshots seen during this flyby are among BepiColombo's best so far—taken from the closest distance yet, with Mercury's surface well-lit by the sun. They reveal a surface with clear signs of 4.6 billion years of bombardment by asteroids and comets, hinting at the planet's place in the wider solar system evolution.

It's worth remembering that these images are a bonus: the M-CAMs were not designed to photograph Mercury but the spacecraft itself, especially during the challenging period just after launch. They provide black-and-white 1024x1024 pixel snapshots. BepiColombo's main science camera is shielded during the journey to Mercury, but it is expected to take much higher-resolution images after arrival in orbit.

In 2027, the main science phase of the mission will begin. The spacecraft's suite of science instruments will reveal the invisible about the solar system's most mysterious planet, to better understand the origin and evolution of a planet close to its host star.

But the work has already begun, with most of the instruments switched on during this flyby, measuring the magnetic, plasma and particle environment around the spacecraft, from locations that will not be accessible when BepiColombo is actually in orbit around Mercury.

BepiColombo comprises two science orbiters that will circle Mercury—ESA's Mercury Planetary Orbiter and the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency's (JAXA) Mercury Magnetospheric Orbiter. The two are carried together to the mysterious planet by the Mercury Transfer Module. Even though the three parts are currently in 'stacked' cruise configuration, meaning many instruments cannot be fully operated, they can still get glimpses of science and enable instrument teams to check that their instruments are working well ahead of the main mission.

"BepiColombo is only the third space mission to visit Mercury, making it the least-explored planet in the inner solar system, partly because it is so difficult to get to," says Jack Wright, ESA Research Fellow, Planetary Scientist, and M-CAM imaging team coordinator.

"It is a world of extremes and contradictions, so I dubbed it the 'problem child of the solar system' in the past. The images and science data collected during the flybys offer a tantalizing prelude to BepiColombo's orbital phase, where it will help to solve Mercury's outstanding mysteries."

What's next?

This fourth Mercury flyby has lined BepiColombo up for a fifth and sixth flyby of the planet on 1 December 2024 and 8 January 2025. Each is bringing the spacecraft more in tune with the orbit of Mercury around the sun.

The BepiColombo flight control team will remain extra busy until the end of the sixth flyby, after which they return to normal cruise operations for almost two years, until BepiColombo enters orbit around Mercury in November 2026.

TOP IMAGE: BepiColombo’s closest approach to Mercury. Credit: European Space Agency

LOWER IMAGE: BepiColombo timeline. Credit: European Space Agency

[ilikereadingactually]

Magazine highlights: The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction Winter 2004

time for F&SF in my rotation of speculative fiction magazines!! i really like the way this one is organized, with connecting themes that flow from one work to the next. below are the works i liked the best!

"what kills the stars" - Alex Bisker

premise: a journalist remembers her ex-wife and flirts with a scientist as the world comes to an end.

gut reaction: i really like the writing of this one, very pleasant style to me! i'm into the way the structure of the story reflects the way the universe is ending. but at the same time i was waiting for an unknown something to happen that would tie it all together more, that didn't feel like it happened?

"Mackson's Mardi Gras Moon Race" - David DeGraff

premise: the underdog narrator has a secret route across a harsh lunar landscape that could win him the race and lift him and his partner out of poverty--if he can survive, and outwit the racer following him.

gut reaction: my game night GM could tell you that i LOVE A RACE. this one has compelling stakes, great pacing, and a wicked satisfying ending.

"The Wizzzer" - Scott Nicolay

premise: a gang of neighborhood kids assemble to take on a human-eating toy.

gut reaction: this was just the right combo of nostalgia, very specific narrative voice, and creep factor for me!! it has a Goonies-but-horror vibe that i really dig.

"The Diamond Factory" - Phoebe Barton

premise: the team doing a last check of a city about to be destroyed finds one lingering inhabitant.

gut reaction: i wanted just a little more information about what was going on in this story, but i liked it a lot anyway! can't go wrong with a zero-gravity vengeance fight.

"The Wounded King" - J.A. Prentice

premise: two knights and their servant enter a castle where only one man and an evil presence live, all under a sky taken up by a slowly falling comet.

gut reaction: i loved the prose of this, vivid and beautiful! nobody here is quite what they seem to be, in fun ways, and the comet adds a moody sense of dread.

"The Interspatial Accessibility Compact's Guidelines for Cross-Cultural Engagement" - Dane Kuttler

premise: an alien florist plays unwilling cupid to a hopeless human and his alien crush.

gut reaction: i belly laughed! i adore this, i adore the characters, i adore the outside view of humanity as ridiculous and having a bit of a death wish. also "Being with you is like being alone" is the loveliest declaration of feeling a person can make T^T i hope these two crazy kids figure out how to make interspecies love work.

"Cities Through Telescopes" - Richard Leis

premise: evidence of long-ago life on other planets, and a dying father.

gut reaction: this has everything i like in a poem: vivid visuals, intriguing connections between seemingly dissimilar things, and a base layer of emotion. really beautiful!

"Do Not Hasten to Bid Me Adieu" - Will McMahon

premise: an elderly man in 1937 receives a letter sent through time from his descendant, the Princess of Orion.

gut reaction: oh, this one made me cry! it felt very human, beautifully specific to a time and place but also making so clear the ability of disparate human beings to bond with each other regardless of where and when they are. i want only good things for this man and his space granddaughter.

[independentartistbuzz]

Lost & Profound Rise with Hazy New Single "Comet"

Lost and Profound's new single, "Comet," out today, serves as a poignant reflection on personal growth and the transformative journey from a bustling urban environment to the serene embrace of the countryside. The song beautifully captures the transcendent moments that unfold when one can simply be still and let go, revealing a world of profound experiences waiting to be embraced. The symbolic teardrop within the song represents the shedding of an outer shell, marking a profound realization of the inherent holiness of nature.

The narrative of "Comet" is deeply intertwined with Lost and Profound's own journey, particularly when the band relocated from Toronto to a secluded home on the Richibucto River in New Brunswick. In this remote setting, a newfound appreciation for the natural surroundings gradually blossomed into a profound acceptance of the river's intrinsic holiness and the interconnectedness of all life that thrives in its midst. It was within this heightened connection to the wild that "Comet" emerged—a heartfelt prayer that encapsulates the band's reverence for the sanctity of nature.

Terry Tompkins of the group shares:

"'Comet" is a song we’d had laying around awhile. As we listened through a list of rough demos I had made, Lisa picked out Comet as something she thought would lend itself to her voice. So we went into our home studio and laid down a basic acoustic arrangement. We then had to piece together a backdrop of synths and decided how big the song should be. We added the electric guitar and played with the sitar as a tip of the hat to our love of psychedelia…eventually out of that chaos came a sound we loved. We got David Quinton (The Dead Boys) to replace the electronic drums and bring the rock, anchored by Bassist Anton Evans. String arrangement were by Julia Vasiliev. All through the process Jody Tompkins was there to make sure we didn’t slip through the crevices. Jody did an amazing and massive mix and the track was Mastered by Joao Carvalho at JCMC. We love the way the track came together and sounds.."

After an 8-year hiatus from the music scene, Lost and Profound's return is marked by a family collaboration on "Comet." Terry Tompkins and Lisa Boudreau enlisted their son Jody Tompkins to co-produce and mix the single. Recorded in an old cabin on the Richibucto River, the song stands as an ode to the holiness of nature, capturing the essence of the river's life and surroundings. "Comet" becomes not only a musical revival for Lost and Profound but also a testament to the enduring bond between family and the shared appreciation for the spiritual beauty found in the natural world.

In the darkness, a light shines through in "Comet," Lost and Profound's first single in 8 years. The song speaks to the illumination that waits for everyone, recorded amidst the river lands of New Brunswick—an ode not only to all rivers but specifically to the river that flows next to their rustic home. Lisa Boudreau and Terry Tompkins craft a universal vignette of the light that patiently awaits, casting its wonder upon all who are willing to embrace the sanctity of nature.

[zablife]

@red-riding-wood Red, I still haven't watched the film, but I couldn't keep away from so many intriguing Capa fics crossing my dash recently! (The fact that you used Halley's Comet as inspo only added to my eagerness to read your fic 🤩) I'm so glad I didn't wait for unnecessary backstory bc you provided more than enough here. I felt fully immersed in the world you created between this pair. The only drawback being my shattered heart at the end 😭

What an amazing portrait of aching loneliness and deep regret! As usual your prose is stunning, reading more like a work of poetry. I particularly appreciate the way you manifest the emotions as physical discomfort, returning to the sensations of cold, constriction of breathe within the chest/ribs and the imagery of glass. *chef's kiss*

Tho it's told in flashbacks, the story flows effortlessly and conveys a powerful sense of loss when put together as skillfully as you've done here. I found these lines esp moving: "You reached a hand up to the stars as if you could pull them down from the sky, let them spill over you in thousands of glittering lights, make a halo of them until they burned away the snow and brought forth a blue-eyed angel from the white fire."

I was gutted by his final goodbye to her, the declaration of love so beautifully stated (finally after all that time he kept it inside!!!), esp the last bit which had me in tears, “I always promised I’d bring you a star.” I'm not sure I will ever fully recover from the notion that he has become stardust 😢 However, the last few lines contain an unexpected measure of hope and like the rising sun feel warm in their promise.

Tysm for sharing this, darl! Your work is such a pleasure to read and analyze. I adore your creative mind and your versatility! I'm not sure I've encountered anyone who can write diff genres quite so well. Bravo 👏🏼

Made For You

"I've been loved before, but right now in this moment, I feel more and more like I was made for you."

A oneshot based off the song Halley's Comet by Billie Eillish. Was inspired to write this back in February of 2023 thanks to @cillmequick's House Party Event. This has been stewing in my brain for nearly a YEAR and I'm finally writing it! Thank you for the muse and for introducing me to this song, Alex! <3

Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader

Fandom: Sunshine (2007)

Warnings: angst, lots of angst, some fluff?, childhood friends to lovers trope

WC: ~2620

Time always ran different here, beneath the blanket of shattered stars and hollow black sky.

You’d lost track of the hours you’d spent, lost in them, eyes tracing each constellation but mostly lingering in the gaps between them, the blackness that stretched endlessly into the sky. That spanned between you and the other half of your soul, the boy you’d loved and the man you’d lost.

Sixteen months ago, you’d said goodbye as he boarded his plane. Sixteen months ago, you’d watched the shuttle launch on national television, feeling as though a piece of you had been stripped, raw and bleeding, from your chest.

“Someday…” he’d said, when you were barely old enough to understand the concepts of space and time. “… I’ll be up there, and you’ll be down here, and I’ll bring you back one of those stars.”

You’d scoffed, and playfully hit him on the arm. “And just how are you gonna do that?” you’d said.

“I don’t know.” He’d smiled. “But I’ll find a way.”

Sixteen months ago, he’d been sent on a mission to renew the dying sun that plunged the world into a winter so cold, the green of summer turned to a white death, and the waters of the Caribbean nearly froze over.

Shards of ice prickled at the back of your hair, the slight gaps of flushed skin where your scarf and toque left you bare, crystals of snow kissing your cheeks and the cold seeping in past the dampness of your scalp and the down of your parka, but as you shut your eyes, you imagined the snow to be blades of grass. And your fingers, to be digging into the earth instead of the fleece of your mittens.

“You see that star, right next to the Big Dipper?” he said, pointing up at the diamonds in the sky. Propped up on one elbow, the warmth of his arm brushed yours in the cool air of the spring night, the sleeve of his shirt tickling your shoulder, his lashes limned like chalk outlines by the soft sheen of the moon.

You opened your eyes, the low rumble of his voice having practically lulled you to sleep. You didn’t get much sleep in those days, when he was in university obtaining his astrophysics degree and you were working early shifts at your dead-end job, when the innocence of childhood was lost to the bitter realities of the world but you had no idea just how empty you’d one day find yourself to be. You still saw glimpses of this innocence on his face, in the grin that stretched his lips across freckled cheeks and the glint of awe in bright blue eyes. You had no idea how lucky you were just to be able to reach out and touch him, to bear witness to these traces of happiness that were tangible and not hidden behind a screen.

You spent almost every night with him beneath the stars. Dreaming of greater things, of the day when you’d both break free of your cages and return to your innocence, when you’d become greater than your past and he’d change the world. When he’d bring you your star and you’d display it in your glass heart.

“Mhm.” Your eyes followed the tip of his finger to a star that gleamed particularly bright.

“That star died seven-thousand years ago,” he told you. “It’s so far away, we just can’t see it yet.”

You scrunched your face and narrowed your eyes, a smile quirking your lip. “Then how come it’s so bright?” you asked.

His grin softened into an almost sad smile, his hand lowering to the earth and his head turning on his shoulder to lock bright eyes with yours. Your breath hitched in your chest, and for one moment so fleeting you could’ve imagined it, you thought his gaze darted to the parting of your lips.

“Light does not always equate to life,” he told you. And each day onward, you would ponder the mysterious woe laced in a silk tone.

Your warm palm cupped your face, mitten cast aside, the brush of your cold fingers laying a kiss to your tear-streaked lips. Muffling the choked sobs that rose from a chest void of hope and full of shattered dreams and shattered glass.

Here you lay, in your cage, your tomb. Not knowing if you’d ever see him again, not knowing if you’d have the chance to tell him that you’d broken your promise.

“What is it?” His soft voice was laden with worry as you buried your face in the warmth of his chest, and his arms wrapped tentatively around your back.

“It was all a lie,” you sobbed weakly, his shirt damp with your tears. “He broke up with me.”

“Oh,” he said, his thumb tracing small circles along your spine.

You sank into his chest, weighing heavy against him, knees shaking beneath you. He kept you standing, allowing your tired body some respite. Thinking that when you were done crying, he might be able to tell you a story that would tempt you to sleep and you wouldn’t feel the crash of pain against your ribs anymore.

“I’m worthless,” you whispered. “He said so himself, he never wanted me…”

“What?” His reaction was so sudden, so sharp, you nearly flinched, sobs stilling as they rose to your chest. Damp threads of hair clung to his shirt, splintering the blurry visage of his freckled cheeks and dark, messy hair as he pushed you softly back to look him in bright, blue eyes. His palm cupped your jaw, thumbing at your cheekbone as he said,

“You’re not worthless. You’re – “

“No. No.” Shaking your head, your eyes gleamed with pain as you began to plead with your friend. “Promise me, Robbie, that you’ll never fall in love with me, and I promise the same. I hate this… this feeling in my chest, like I can’t breathe, like…” You chuffed out a nervous laugh. “… I don’t know. I just don’t wanna feel this again. I don’t wanna lose you, too.”

Robert had stared back at you, silent for a while, the bright of his eyes fading ever-so-slightly. You wondered, for a moment, what he’d been about to say before you'd cut him off, until he pulled you to his chest and murmured in your ear,

“I promise.”

And each day onward, he would keep his promise, watching through high school as you would try to date dumb boys and lend a shoulder to cry on when you’d denounce each one, and after graduation came and went and he’d break up with his own sweetheart, he’d tell you it was because he wanted to focus on his studies.    

How had you been so blind, you thought to yourself. How had you not realised that each relationship you’d sabotaged hadn’t been because of your trust issues, or your self-esteem. It had been because the only guy you’d ever wanted had been right there, letting you sob into his shirt and stare up at the stars with you and tell you about all the things you’d both achieve when you were older.

And now that you were older and wiser, you cursed your foolish heart that bled like the stars across the hollowness of the black sky. Blinking away tears that clung, cold, to your flushed cheeks, you tried to chase away the sobs that echoed through the abyss that stretched from one rib to another.

What a fool you were, to fall in love with nothing but stardust. 

You reached a hand up to the stars as if you could pull them down from the sky, let them spill over you in thousands of glittering lights, make a halo of them until they burned away the snow and brought forth a blue-eyed angel from the white fire.

His transmission came to you when the darkness was just beginning to peel away from the dying light over the horizon, when what was left of the sun began to usurp the night, snaking its tendrils of rose-gold through the black canvas sky.

You swore that his hair had grown longer since the last time he’d sent a message, darkly framing the sides of his pale neck. Those blue eyes stared back at you from the artificial light of your phone, stirring something within the hollowness of your chest. Something warm, like hope.

“I… don’t think there’s really any easy way to say this,” he said. Your hope seemed to sink to your stomach.

Robert cupped his hands over his mouth, as if in prayer, and those piercing blue eyes stared back at you for what must have been an eternity, something cruel and malignant weaving tightly in your gut. You longed for that gaze to rest on you again, to be able to reach out and run your fingers through his messy brown locks, to wipe away the tear that beaded on his lower lash. He scarcely cried, always so stoic. That was how you knew that something was truly, dreadfully wrong.

That you’d realised too little, too late, that you were made for him, and him for you.

“There are only a few of us left,” he said, clearing his throat as his hands came down from his chapped lips. “Some miscalculations were made, and at this point, we only have enough oxygen to deliver the payload. It takes exactly eight minutes for light to travel from the sun to the earth, and so… if one day you’re watching the stars and you see the sun rise with a little extra brightness, you’ll know we made it.” He swallowed again, Adam’s apple bobbing along his throat. “But you’ll know that I’m…” His words were breaking now, just like the sobs that wracked your chest.

“…  I wish there was an easier way to say this, dear God…” his voice tapered into a mere whisper, and he ran a hand over his face. Blue irises were rimmed by red, fatigue and sadness showing through the cracks. “There’s no easy way to say this to you, of all people.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. You sucked in a breath of frozen air, tickling your burning lungs.

“You know that I’ll be gone,” he said at last. “Only stardust.” His lip quirked into a sad, almost ironic smile, and he said, “I did this for you, Y/N. So that someday, those things we talked about under the stars… someday you’d be able to achieve those things, in a world that isn’t dying.”

He paused again, his emotion clawing its way thick into his throat with the way his words came out so strangulated. “I wanted you to know, I’m sorry for breaking our promise… I’m sorry for falling in love with you, Y/N. But up here… with the stars and the blackness and this… impossibly bleak dread, this knowing for once that anything I do or say won’t matter because everything will be gone, including you… ” He shook his head, inhaling sharply, and your breath caught in your chest. “… I loved you since we were kids, and I never told you and I wish I had. Believe me, I wish I had.”

You wanted to reach out and comfort him, run a finger along his freckled cheek, to pull him into your arms as he had you countless times. You wanted to tell him it was okay, that you’d broken your promise, too, and it was all your fault, really, for not realising sooner that you were made for him. That he shouldn’t blame himself for any of it because it was you who should’ve said something, you who should’ve kissed him that night he boarded his plane.

“So, I guess I’ll be seeing you in a few years,” he said, swallowing hard against his throat as baby blue eyes looked at you with some unexplainable emptiness that you were unable to identify. It was the same look he’d given you so many times before, and yet, despite knowing him better than you knew yourself, you still couldn’t quite put your finger on what the mysterious emotion or reason behind it was.

“Soon,” you corrected him, fighting back tears. Sniffling, from the cold or your own emotions you could tell not. “I’ll be seeing you soon, okay?” You squeezed his arm, if only to ground yourself, to remind yourself in the years to come that he was tangible, that he existed not only in your mind.

He nodded, smile playing sadly at his mouth. “Soon,” he repeated.

You had drawn so close to him that his familiar scent engulfed you, took you away from the bustle of the airport and drowned out all the noise. Your tongue darted to wet your lips as you glanced down at his, a few threads of some strange yearning tugging at the empty of your chest in that moment. You were so close, yet, not enough. This feeling, of needing to be closer, of needing to express your affection in more than words and friendly touch, was foreign to you, and you weren’t sure what to do with it.

For one moment, you thought that you might’ve kissed him.

Cheeks flushing in embarrassment, you chastised yourself. The last thing he needed was for you to complicate things on the last day you’d see each other for so long, and so you pushed the childish notion from your brain and you smiled past your anguish and you bid him farewell.

And each day onward, you felt as though you had left things incomplete, this emptiness spanning wider between each rib, like a black hole that swept away all joy and feeling and semblance of being human.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered into your balled fist, fingers trembling from the cold. You blinked away your tears so you could see him better for the last time, capture his image in your mind before your angel burned his wings for flying too close to the sun.

That sad, ironic smile tugged at the corner of his lip again, and he said, “I always promised I’d bring you a star.”

Your shaking hand tucked your phone back in your pocket as the video ended, and you didn’t even silence your cries as you wept to the heavens, wanting them to hear of your anguish and your loss.

And slowly, after what must have been hours or perhaps minutes, in this plane of altered reality where time ran differently beneath your blanket of stars, your sobs came weaker from your chest, and a warm glow painted the backs of your dark eyelids. The harsh cold had frozen your lashes together, and you blinked, pulling them back to witness the sun’s conquest over the night, the tendrils of pink and orange turning to a fierce gold that you hadn’t seen in years.

You stood, slipping your mitten back over your damp, shaking hand, and trudged, weary and sleepless, through the snow. Your eyes burned, squinting against the swell of the sun, unaccustomed to the brilliance of its lost light. Your heart still clenched, bleeding, shatters of glass falling to the vacuous pit between your ribs, but you couldn’t help but stop for a moment and just look.

Warmth caressed your face, chasing away the bite of the cold, reminding you of spring, of slushy snowball fights with Robert and picking flowers by the local stream.

“Light does not always equate to life,” he'd told you, all those years ago as you'd laid beneath the stars.

And with this pain searing white-hot in your soul and your chest torn empty, and the burning warmth of his confessed love shattering your heart to cold glass, you finally understood.

But despite your pain, it was beautiful.

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[ncitygirls]

pink - mark x gn reader

fluff, smut, cw: submissive!mark, 2k

The concept of colour is an intriguing one. Much like seeing, seeing itself is intriguing. Intriguing as well is the notion that seeing is believing when the blind trust so fiercely. They must trust the yellow of the sun resembles the middle of daisies, and runny yolk. They must trust the red of a ruby resembles that of flowing blood. They must trust that at any given time, the blue painting the skies can resemble that of bluebells, blueberries, and all blue things.

The concept of colour is not an admissible one. It is convoluted and complex. The pink of a rose, of a poked eye, of a healing wound, of a stained linen. They all contain a bounty of hues; some dimmer, paler, or truer than others. They all carry their own meaning, things we assign and ascribe to an item; be it clothing, furniture, text. The point to all this is, you do not think you will ever be able to truly explain how perfect the pink that colours Mark’s lips is. You try every morning you are fortunate to wake beside him - when you are first to wake that is. You peel open your eyes one by one, blinking away sleep and tears from the strobes scorching your corneas, falling victim to the allure of sunlight that lures you from your dreams, only to wake to another.

Pink. It is too simple a word to describe the creases in his lips that sit a couple shades darker, not enough to call magenta nor red. Every morning, you ache to run your fingers along the ridges, to rouse him from sleep, punish him like the rising sun did you. You never do. You lay there, watching as silent breaths cause the rise and fall of your lover’s chest, perturbed by the riddle that curses you every other morning.

How does one describe the indescribable?

It is your job no? To spread word of such wonder. A man who proves the existence of a higher power. A man whose face cannot be a product of the algorithms of colliding comets, nor of destiny. Hands of an omniscient being carved this face, moulded him into the wonder that you wake to every morning. That pink is not just pink. It is a perfect combination of the richest red and a waxen white. God needn’t have spent long, given his almightiness, but he did spend more time than on others. For that reason you think it selfish to waste this time, to roll out of bed and busy yourself with the trivial, menial tasks of readying for work. No, you must solve this riddle. You must find a way to proclaim what you have thought since the very first moment you laid eyes on Mark Lee.

“How are you real?”

One glance and he knew you hadn’t meant to ask it aloud. It is a regular action you do in regards to him; thanking God for the blessing that was Mark Lee’s creation. It occurs at all hours of the day, both verbal and non verbal, physical and non-physical alike. Whether it be the sudden airiness in your laughter, or twirling strands of his hair betwixt your fingers. Every time your eyes settle on his face, your senses heighten while your sense diminishes.

“Morning, angel,” he mumbles, tugging you from your angelic pose on his chest and pulling your lips to his. He offers you just a press, but should it be your last, it would still be enough. Mornings spent in his company always make for an easier start, one full of wistful goodbyes but wishful hellos. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” your lips fall to his toned pec, offering scattered pecks. “Did you?”

Mark hums groggily, head falling to his pillow, failing to follow your sudden flurry of kisses. He finds the energy to speak just as your lips closed around his hardened nipple, as you begin to suck ever so slightly. His hands find your hips, clinging onto your frame as you kiss a path down his chest, marking his skin on your descent. “It’s almost eight,” he regrets to inform you, wishing nothing more than to enjoy this extended dream. “Won’t you be late?”

You show no signs of stopping, journeying south at a most leisurely speed. He relinquishes his hold on you, instead finding purchase in the bed linens, his fingers clasping around the duck down feathers. When your lips suddenly leave him, Mark fears the worst, that his reminder had a delayed effect. That is reluctant warning, seemingly good deed is now working against him. He soon finds his concerns were in vain as your lips close around the clothed head of his cock, sucking long and hard on the darkened material. His hips rise toward your mouth, chasing the stimulation you offer up to the deity beneath you, the one you call Mark. The one you call yours.

Your fingers grip his waistband, slowly lowering the material to the tops of his calves. His hot length meets the cool air with a hiss, his jaw tightening as you offer a languid tug from his base to his tip. A strangled moan fills the air, coating either end of your name. As you slowly pump him within your closed fist, you admire how the morning light always caught the beautiful tone of his arms, the shadows casting over his chest. He is more firm beneath your palm, more concrete, more real. When he casts his gaze toward you finally, finding some room for restraint within your steady pace, he allows himself to admire the gentle knit of your brows, the smirk upturning your lips as his breathing changes when you tighten your fist. He gasps when your eyes fly back up to his, your fist stilled at the base of his abdomen, a silent question in your eyes, a small lick at your lips.

He nods, watching you lower your weight, resting on his tensed thighs. He is breathless, eyes stuck on the plumpness of your lips, your pink tongue sweeping over your bottom one, teeth catching the skin as you run your closed fist over his cock once more, gripping tighter as he mewls.

Words escape him as he offers up devout concentration to his breathing, praying he does not crumble under the warmth of your touch and sweetness in your eyes. His eyes squeeze shut when you thumb his slit, a hard shudder passing through his bones, his hips bucking in time with your closed fist. Mark whines beneath you, the patience he forces is admirable, his whitened knuckles gleam as they blend in with the cloud of sheets. And still you wait, feeling his skin burn as his precum gathers in your palm, squelching in the air.

“Minhyung,” you breathe suddenly, fearful you might shatter the moment. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,’ he chokes out in response. ‘I want you, please.’

You chortle at his sweet plea, capturing the skin of his thigh in a slow kiss as you pump him harder, puckering your lips along the skin at his base as his thrusts start to increase. “Slow down for me,” you whisper. Mark loves what you are doing, reducing him to the shell of himself as you lure his first orgasm of the day from him. He grips your hand then, ready to chase a release he knows you will not give him.

“Please,” he begs softly, skin a flaming pink, lined by the morning light and in a light dew.

Pressing a final, fleeting kiss to his tip he wishes to chase, you release him, drawing his brows together as you slow down before climbing off of his lap. He frowns as you kneel beside the bed before patting his shin, “come ‘ere.”

He bites his tongue, stuffing it in his cheek, “I know you’re teasing me.”

“No,” you laugh, “you’re just impatient,” you coo, watching as he follows your instruction anyway, shuffling to the edge of the bed. You tug his pants down to his ankles before you are hovering over his cock, admiring the gleam as the light reflects off his slick head. He sighs as you do, your breath cooling his angry tip, a twitch running through his cock as you just hover. He almost whines again when you pucker around his slit, the tip of your tongue passing over it ever so slightly.

His sweet moans fill the air, his breaths laboured as you tease him, lapping at his shaft as he toys with your hair, moving it aside so he can see you. He watches you take him, burying his lithe cock between the hot confines of your mouth before sucking around him, humming as he mewls beneath you. He assigns no time to keeping himself together, instead admiring how quickly you render him powerless. How you swirl your tongue around him, pump him as you suckle on his head, swallowing around him. He is completely at your mercy, his cum threatening to pour down your throat as you push on his abdomen, sending his back into the mattress. He huffs as he falls, sighing as his stolen release is remedied by your cool, slick coated finger prodding at his puckered hole.

His moans are unintelligible, garbled mumbles filling the air as you glide your finger into his ass, curling ever so slightly as you pump the digit. “I think I-,” he starts, unsure how, or just unable to finish.

“It’s okay, Mark,” you breathe on his cock, curling your finger harder with every suck you offer his leaking tip. “It’s okay, you can come.”

“Fuck- I’m-” his voice escapes him before he can help it, the mere thought of it forcing you to suck harder. His release tears through him like molten iron, encrusting his every nerve, setting him alight. His cum coats your throat as he bucks into your mouth, your name barely comprehensible as it pours from his lips. It is pleading, prayer like, something you repel. It was Mark who was God like. Mark who was heavenly.

He humps up into your mouth while grinding down on your finger, milking himself, using you, silently forbidding himself to succumb to the oversensitivity of his orgasm. He clings onto the nape of your neck, lodging his tip in the back of your throat while chasing the finger pressed beautifully to his prostate as his mind and body struggle to process the endless limits of his pleasure, though the two can agree it rests in your hands.

When he is somewhat present, Mark quickly recognises your figure lying by his side, your unsoiled hand massaging the expanse of his chest. He gazes up at you with fatigue in his eyes, and a sickly adoration. And something else he thinks he is ready to name.

“Y/N?” Mark calls, still a little breathless, failing to notice the way your eyes catch the time. “I think I-”

“Shit, it’s past nine! Mark, I have to go.”

You disappear down the hall, your presence made known only by a flurry of rushed sounds before you return in the peachy pink shirt you left behind last time. He can’t figure out how it looks better on you every time he sees it. Much like the pink of your lips when circling his cock or the more innocent pink lining your tired eyes. Even the pink hearts that fly around your head as he watches you rush around the room, glancing at him every so often, laughing to find him still watching you. Each time you do, he sees that nothing beats the colour of the red raw love he feels for you. Mark hopes to tell you this some other beautiful morning. For now, he smiles against your lips as you bids him farewell before letting him return to his slumber.

He dreams only of you.

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

Quick, before the event ends! Time to celebrate a Starry Night for @tsunderedoctor with Franky! The prompt for this one is “Stars; seeing the reader's eyes sparkle.” So without further ado...!

It's your first birthday celebrated with the Straw Hats, and they always go all-out for parties. Food and drinks flow freely, the air is abuzz with song and story, and nothing has dared breach the festive air. Night fell some time ago, and while it's still warm out, the party is slowly starting to die down.

Franky places a light blanket around your shoulders. "Got one more thing to show ya' before you hit the sack. It's going to be suuuuuper! Just hold tight, I'll have it ready in just a sec..."

You don't know this, but he's been hard at work on these fireworks since you first stepped onto the Sunny. Everything from the colors of the lights to the fuse length has been meticulously tested in order to craft the most beautifully bombastic display this side of the Grand Line...while still catering to your specific preferences and tolerances for fireworks. (He sent Usopp on a super-stealthy mission to figure all this out, so of course you'd never expect a thing. Surely.) He couldn't quite say why it's been so important for him to get this right. All he knows is that more than anything else, he wants to make you smile.

Everyone's eyes go to the barrels he wheels onto the deck; Sanji and Nami have to keep Luffy back from investigating and ruining the surprise ("No, they're NOT full of meat, sit down!"). He doublechecks the fuses to make sure everything will light up in perfectly orchestrated order. He drowns out the curious commentary of the rest of the crew, but he's acutely aware of your eyes on his back. You're the one he wants to impress, after all, and he's never felt so simultaneously proud and nervous.

No more putting it off. He spins on his heels and puts his arms together. "Alriiiiiight! Who's ready for the Super Franky Firework Show?" The entire crew cheers in response, but he waits for your smile to start the show. He lights the first fuse with a whiff of flamethrower breath. The sizzling sparks leading up to that first explosion almost drown out how loudly his heart is beating.

The world fills with color. Starbursts and flowers with petals of light, spiraling twists and color-shifting fountains, a visual feast painted upon a backdrop of a perfect starry sky!

Once he's sure his creations are going off without a hitch, Franky tears his eyes away from the spectacle. He sees you, eyes wide and quietly mesmerized. This was the goal all along, to make this a birthday you wouldn't forget, but he didn't expect the way those fireworks would reflect in your eyes like so many stars, like planets and comets colliding, the universe destroying and rebuilding itself in your pupils. His internal systems kick into high gear as he finds himself briefly unable to breathe at the sight.

And then your eyes meet his, and somehow, they look even brighter.

"Franky, this is wonderful! I love it!" 

He says that he does too. You laugh and blush. He's confused as to why until his head catches up with his mouth and heart, and he realizes he'd instead answered "I love you too." And before he can take it back, here you are right next to him, blanket still around your shoulders as you stand on tip-toe.

Everyone else is too busy watching the finale of the fireworks to notice the explosive kiss that you and Franky share. And yet...maybe some things, Franky decides, can be soft and quiet but still super.

[chironshorseass]

magnificently cursed

Annabeth kisses Percy Jackson at the winter solstice; because of this, things may turn out for the better—or is it the other way around? The only thing she knows for certain is that she has a special loathing for fatal flaws and prophecies.

or,

A canon divergent au in which many things happen at once.

read on ao3

Dum spiro, spero

(While I breathe, I hope.)

That was one of the first Latin phrases Chiron had taught her, all those years ago. It was what she hung on to when life carried on by a thread.

And when she’d been left, alone, to die, that was what she remembered. And also rocks, and blood, piling up on her. She’d begun to think that that was the only way of life. Rocks and blood.

Or maybe it wasn’t blood, maybe her vision had been drowned in scarlet. And maybe those weren’t rocks.

No, it was a fact that those weren’t rocks.

In her feeble brain, she knew. This was the sky.

This was the world.

But she couldn’t give up, because then everything would come crashing down. She’d die anyway, but the rest of humanity, Luke...they still had a chance.

Percy still had a chance.

But it was a ravenous pain, holding the world. One that gathered on her shoulders like burning steel and flowed through the rest of her body in a river of magma.

Dum spiro, spero.

While I breathe, I hope.

But she could barely breathe.

The weight of the world had been shoved onto her shoulders, all for betrayal. She was dimly aware of Luke (a friend or foe) and Atlas (a foe) , and someone else, standing there, watching. She wasn’t sure. It was hard to see anything when her mind delayed any comings and goings for just a few seconds.

Sweat had meddled in her eyes. She couldn’t clear it away.

Ringing echoed in her ears. She couldn’t scream for it to stop.

But every cell in her body screamed, and it wouldn’t stop. Everything screeched and cried and hollered, but she was sure that she made no sound.

All she wanted was for someone to take this agony, this torture, away from her. To burn it just like it was burning her.

More rocks fell.

Blurs from the outside of her hellish sphere discussed things.

Laughter.

Crying.

Ichor.

Ichor.

It trailed from someone’s legs like fresh honey. An immortal. She couldn’t hold her chin up to see who it was, however.

But that person made themselves known.

Artemis. She’d kneeled down next to Annabeth. Her face was streaked with gold. More ichor. Then she turned to say something, maybe to Luke. The goddess seemed distressed, angered.

Luke. Traitor. Friend.

Traitor.

A clang followed, and she had just enough energy to lift her eyes and see the chains that now littered Artemis’ feet. She’d somehow been trapped, like her, and—

More pressing weight from the sky. More backstabbing pain.

I am going to die.

And if she was going to die, she wouldn’t be able to breathe, and if she wasn’t going to breathe, she wouldn’t hope.

Better to die than hope, then.

Artemis’ flashing eyes appeared from the depths of her darkened vision.

Annabeth understood too late what was about to happen.

Chains free. Distressed goddess. Ichor. Laughter.

This was a trick played beautifully by Atlas—and Luke. They wanted to see Artemis trapped, just like her. They also wanted Annabeth free.

She let out a groan, a sound of protest. It was no use.

Artemis had already taken her place, holding what had nearly toppled over. Annabeth’s shoulders had never felt so light.

The last thing she saw was Percy’s face. His dimpled smile and his eyes the color of the sea on a clear day and his curly hair.

“Sleep tight, Annabeth,” he said.

Then he faded away, and she saw nothing at all.

While I breathe, I hope.

.

Percy had rescued her before. It went both ways, really, but this felt familiar. Riding some kind of horse—this time on Blackjack—with him tucked behind her, flying to safety. Well, she wasn’t sure if meeting the gods at the winter solstice could count as “safety,” but it was close enough.

He came for me.

Thalia flew closeby, on a pegasus with Grover. She remembered the knowing smile the daughter of Zeus had given her, right after Grover had crushed her into a hug.

“He didn’t come for Artemis,” she’d said, talking about Percy. It was hard not to blush.

Afterwards, They’d taken to the sky, dark comets streaking through the stars, through Zoë.

The guilt of what had happened would come to grasp her with greedy fingers, but it was smothered by Percy’s arms around her. Just like in Siren Bay. Just like after leaving Polyphemus’ island, injured and barely conscious.

And as New York’s city lights replaced the stars in the sky, that feeling of warmth also overcame the dread of what was to come.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

The wind tickled her words, just like it did her face, but Percy still heard.

Her neck was barely craned to him, and yet, she could see how close they were now. It made her grip onto Blackjack’s neck tighter.

He gave her one of those rare smiles, as though he’d been caught in the moment.“You don’t have to thank me for anything.”

She thought about Luke, for a second. He would always love her; that’s what he’d promised. They were family. And then again, Percy was always with her when she needed it the most. Ironic, maybe. But she couldn’t dwell on it.

Instead she said, “You did kind of save me, though.”

“Yeah, but you already thanked me, like, a bazillion times.” He tilted his head sideways. “Besides. You would’ve done the same for me.”

.

Percy meant to tell her. But the words were tangled up in his throat, just like they had been when the Olympian council debated on killing him.

Destroyer, they’d proclaimed.

Perseus. Destroyer.

In the end, Artemis hadn’t chosen Annabeth as a member of the hunt. But rather, Thalia.

Annabeth was alive and she wasn’t a hunter and from then on, he could breathe properly.

.

Staring at that lock of grey hair, she recalled the events that led them here. A pain that they both shared now.

She touched the streak gently, and they stayed there, swaying to their secretive music. It was the kind of song that stitched them together, two souls molded into one horrible moment.

But it was more than just the horror that connected them. In the vibrancy of Olympus, it felt like they were creating the beautiful moments, too. They’d become a luster that outshined the rust in their thread of life.

“So,” she said, swaying to the music. “What were you going to say to me earlier?”

“Athena doesn’t approve,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

“What?”

“I just...I wanted to say that…” He grabbed her wrists that were currently locked around his neck, taking her hands in his. This time, his gaze landed on her, only her. “You mean so much to me. I never want to see you go.”

Annabeth shook her head; she still didn’t understand where this was going. “You won’t. I changed my mind—about the hunters.”

Percy breathed out a laugh. “I didn’t think I could feel so relieved in my life.”

“Me neither,” she smiled. “I don’t think that kind of life was for me, anyway. But…what does my mom have to do with this?”

He regarded her for a few seconds, until he finally relented. But not before checking both ways in case Athena was around.

“She knows what I want to tell you, but she doesn’t approve.”

“And that is…”

Maybe she had some idea as to what was going on. But she wanted to hear it from him.

It was exhilarating and frightening all at the same time.

He took a deep breath; when he spoke, the words tumbled out of his mouth like burnt offerings.

“I want to be with you—but not if you don’t want me to. As more than friends. It’s cool if you think it’s too fast, though, or...I just—I thought you’d leave me, and that scared me so much. And—I realized that I really like you. But only, only if you want to, obviously.” He pursed his lips. “I’ll just shut up, now.”

As more than friends.

I really like you.

She didn’t think she was prepared to hear this. It sent her reeling, tumbling into echoing chambers where it was only her and Percy’s words. Over and over.

“Annabeth? Are...you okay?” he asked.

She blinked, and she saw everything clearer. The softness of his voice, his eyes, concerned. The sensation of her hand in his. The plumpness to his lips. She wanted to kiss him, and badly.

“Mom doesn’t approve?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I guess.”

“I want to, though.”

Annabeth felt her cheeks flush at that, but she didn’t care.

“You’re...sure?”

“Yeah, Seaweed Brain. If you haven’t noticed: I really like you, too.”

“Really?” His eyes were wide, filled with wonder. But then he cleared his throat. “I mean, cool. That’s...cool.”

She snorted. “Okay, now—come here.”

And that’s when she kissed him. And everything felt perfect.

Though there was something that she’d forgotten. Something that had lured her into wanting to join The Hunters in the first place.

The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

She squashed it down. Prophecies have double meanings, anyway.

.

“I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter.”

Athena had told Percy this. She’d told him many things. Like how his fatal flaw was personal loyalty, but she herself didn’t seem so sure.

But Athena was right, she was always right.

Except when it came to Annabeth. He didn’t care if she didn’t approve.

(Maybe that was his mistake.)

.

Annabeth thought that they could manage long distance—and they could—they’d been successful in calling daily and sending emails.

It was fine; she was finally happy.

Something in her had clicked at getting to see Percy smile at her when she’d call him her boyfriend, all sweet and loving, or just whenever he appeared on the IM. Her stomach filled with butterflies whenever he laughed at her jokes and whispered “goodnight” like a soft melody. Even though she never dared say, “I love you.”

It was all fine and good.

Until Luke appeared.

He’d knocked on her door, and her stepmother had answered.

She’d expected someone from camp, when Helen had called to her. There was a small flicker of hope there, that it was Percy.

But when she opened the door and stepped outside, her heart stopped. Her breath hitched.

“You,” she said through clenched teeth. Before he could react, she’d pointed her knife at him, slick and quiet as a panther.

His gaze flicked to that old  knife, and he had the nerve to smile.

“You still use my knife.”

She ignored him, moving closer, pointing the blade directly at him. “You here to finally finish me off?”

He patted his pants and shirt, then carefully raised his arms.

“I’m unarmed, see? Just wanted to have a talk, that’s all.”

“Like you wanted to have a talk back on Mt.Othrys? When you left me there, to die?” Her voice shook, but she held her ground.

Luke winced. “Five minutes, Annabeth. That’s all I’m asking.”

He looked terrible, like he’d aged twenty years. Every word he muttered out seemed to steal a part of him, leaving him there to rot. His skin stuck to his face, pale and hollow.

“Consider this as a truce,” he said. “I don’t plan to hurt you. I swear on the Styx.”

Thunder boomed. Reluctantly, she lowered her knife. But she wasn’t stupid, that knife wouldn’t go anywhere.

“And what do you want to talk to me about?”

“I need your help.”

She shook her head. “Luke, you know I can’t—”

“Kronos,” he breathed. “This is about Kronos.”

Her hand tightened against the pommel of her blade. She waited for him to elaborate.

“He...wants to use me as a stepping stone. He’s gonna take over the world, if I let him.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“You don’t understand, Beth.”

At the mention of that nickname—that so few people ever used—she had no choice but to meet his eyes. They’d once been a bright blue. Now, they were shattered discs. Like his mother’s.

“I…” He moved his jaw from side to side, a nervous tick that had plagued him ever since coming to camp. “I can’t possibly do it. He’s gone too far, and I have no choice but—”

“ Why are you telling me this, Luke?”

“Because—”

“You know what? Whatever it is, I can’t help you.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she spoke before that could happen.

“You nearly killed me, Luke. You get that? You nearly killed me. Do you know how messed up that is? How, how could you do that? We were family once!” She was screeching now, her voice reverberating across the cobbled San Francisco streets.

She felt the sharp sting of tears, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting them fall.

Maybe by now, everyone in the neighborhood was listening in, but she didn’t care. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hurt him like he had to her.

A shadow crossed his face. Guilt. He felt guilty.

Traitor. Friend.

“Look, I...I know this won’t mean anything to you, but I’m sorry.” Her eyes fixed themselves on anything but him. “I just—he’s using me, Annabeth. In everything.”

“And what am I supposed to say to that? Too bad? I’m sorry? This was your choice!”

“No, you don’t understand.” His entire body shook. Annabeth had never seen him so terrified, so unstable. He’d changed, she realized, from that confident hero she’d once looked up to. “I want to run, ‘Beth. Fuck everything. I can’t take it anymore. I want to—to go with you.”

He’d left her utterly disarmed, her armour melting away. Was Luke...actually switching sides?

“Go...with me?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Gods, yes.”

“So you’re...having second thoughts? You want to go to camp?”

Hope blossomed in her heart, no longer the shriveled flower that it had once been.

Luke sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, through that grey streak. It was a symbol now, representing the two people she’d bled for the most.

“No,” he said, and that hope began to wilt once more. “You still don’t get it. I want to run, like the old days. Get away from all of this crap. From the Titans and the gods—everything. Just me and you, and we can finally be free.”

She laughed, water leaving her hope alone and escaping, running down her cheeks instead. “More like you don’t get it.”

“As if you knew even the slightest bit about what’s going on.”

“Wake up, Luke! This isn’t a fucking fantasy! People are counting on you—on me! And the old days are over! They’re over...because of you!”

“No, they’re over,” he insisted, “because of Thalia.”

“Please, Thalia made her choice—”

“Just as you’re doing now and just as I did before! Run with me, Annabeth, or let me die in the hands of Kronos. There is no in between. I wouldn’t leave you like Thalia did. You know Kronos controls me, you know the only way for me to escape him is to hide.”

She still shook her head. “No, no we have to stop him. We can’t just run like cowards, that’s not how it works! And I can’t leave Percy—”

“Ah.” His eyes blazed with a strange light, as though he’d found a missing puzzle piece. “So that’s what this is about. Percy .” He chuckled to himself. “He’s going to leave you in the end, you know that, right?”

Despite the dryness to his tone, Annabeth felt like his words were drowning her in an eternal pool of memories.

Worthless.

Freak.

Your mother didn't want you. Your father didn't, either.

And then…

A single choice shall end his days.

“You don’t know anything about Percy and me,” Annabeth seethed.

He sneered. “Oh, but I do. A little bird told me that you’re finally dating him. That he’s controlled every single thing about you since day one, leading you right to his trap.” His lips widened to a grin, watching her face. “Yes, I have spies. I’m sure you knew that already, though.”

A voice screamed in her head, that all he did was lie; that he was the one controlling her. But right now, nothing seemed logical, only that grin of his and the way it was crushing her garden of hope.

“You need me, Annabeth. More than you will ever know.”

Tears fell down her chin, swam in her eyes, distorting Luke. He stood there, silent, waiting for her to fall like prey to the arrow.

Yes. Go with him, rid yourself of responsibility.

No. Percy saved you from Luke. You love him, even if he might die.

Yes.

No.

Yes—

“There’s no way, Luke. After everything you’ve done...and now you’re asking me to leave the people I love? And no, Percy has never controlled me. Like Thalia did, hell, like you did— I made my choice. To stick up to him even when I know he might leave. Because I care for him, and he cares for me! Unlike you!”

He scoffed, moving closer to her. He could probably hear her thumping heart.

“Those are his words, not yours. Honestly, I thought you’d be better than this, Annabeth. Better than being with that bastard. Listening to him instead of me. We’ve been through so much together, have experienced more things than you and him will ever share. He wants me dead. He wants me to destroy our world by letting Kronos take over me.”

“You can still choose to side with us, Luke,” she begged, voice cracking. “It doesn't have to be this way!”

“Ah, choosing, choosing, ” he laughed, stooping to her eye level. She couldn’t escape, back against the door. “You see, Annabeth, with choices...sometimes...you don’t have one.”

She still held her knife; he was close enough for her to easily stab him with it. As though reading her thoughts, he stepped away from her, only for him to extend his arms. An invitation.

“Go on, do it. Fight me. Your beloved mother would approve, you know. Wise thing to do and all that. After all, this is the last chance you’ll get.”

She was silent, mouth parched, while her eyes rained down more and more tears. It was strange, the way he talked like he wouldn’t exist anymore. The way he implied that Kronos would do something to him.

Staring at him, openly waiting for her killing blow—she couldn’t do it, no matter how much she wanted to.

You loved him once, like he loved you. Or does he still love you?

No matter how hard she tried, her heart still held a part of him. Her knife slipped from her hand.

“I see,” he said. “You’re still that small, seven year-old girl. Weak and helpless.”

“Get out.”

He let out a breath. “For the record, you’ve just helped his plans stay in motion. When the world ends and crumbles at your feet, remember that you had your chance, and you didn’t take it.” He closed the distance between them again, only for her to shove him off.

“Get out, and don’t even dare touch me.”

He did listen to her, lowering one foot to the bottom step of the porch, but not before turning around, regarding her. Something like disgust brimmed in his eyes.

“This will all be your fault. You and siding with Percy Jackson. One day, he’ll be your undoing.”

“I said, GET OUT!”

.

“Annabeth? What happened?”

“Nothing, just...had a disagreement.”

“Was it someone from camp?” her stepmother asked.

Annabeth knew that Helen tried to make an effort with her nowadays, but she still didn’t feel like sharing anything. With anyone. Least of all her.

“Something like that,” she managed to mutter out, before she turned and dashed for the stairs.

She crashed in her bed, feeling the sobs already.

Stepping stone. What had he meant by that? Was Kronos going to kill him?

Suddenly her room seemed much too small for her. Shortness of breath. That’s what she felt.

The world might end and it will be your fault.

You could’ve killed Luke, once and for all, and saved Percy.

You could’ve—

She screamed into her pillow, deafening the sound. Deafening her cries, brutal and untamed. To her, it was never clear when she fell asleep that day. Only that, eventually, she did.

At first, she dreamed of the ocean. She’d always admired it from afar; it was the perfect work of art. Swirling colors that changed hues with the light. The ocean was the mirror of the sky, only more powerful. She knew this because she knew its offspring. She knew Percy.

He was there, standing atop dark, jagged rocks. They were black, a stark contrast to the blues and greens. His hair whipped around in the wind, though that was the only thing moving about him. His hair and nothing else. Then she realized that the sea wasn’t moving either. It didn’t take long for the wind to stop its whistling, as well.

She longed to run to him, to kiss him, to hug him...but she was a third-party spectator, drifting off into the sky as if her soul was unanchored to her body.

Meanwhile, the world held its breath.

Control, a voice whispered.

She tried to speak, but her lips wouldn’t move.

Control, it whispered again. That’s all he wants.

Percy chose that moment to look up. His eyes were dark, she could tell, even from her distance. Dark and green. Before she could so much as attempt to call his name, he dove into the mass of water, away from the rocks, and disappeared into the safety of the sea.

It is fatal. But it is his.

She turned. And there it was, that voice. She gasped when she saw the figure from which it was coming from. Luke. He was levitating just like her, in the middle of the ocean and sky. Only his eyes didn’t match the background. They were golden . Everything about him glowed, from his skin to that facial scar. His voice wasn’t his, not really. It sounded like rocks grinding, like rotten apples, like —

Luke … that face, stared down on her. Then the voice came, that horrible, rasping voice. His lips split into a smirk. “They don’t call flaws ‘fatal’ for nothing.”

She screamed, and everything disappeared

This time, her dream shifted to camp. She was sitting by the lake, her hair dripping wet. Luke was there, too. Normal Luke. The one who used to smile and ruffle her curls whenever she talked about architecture, the one who wore orange t-shirts and sandals and was looked up to as camp counselor. Next to him, she seemed much smaller, helpless. But it dawned on her that she felt this way because she was, in fact, much smaller than him.

This was a memory—when she was around nine, maybe.

“You know we can try again, right?” Luke was saying.

He was gentle when he dragged her into his arms and he was gentle when he held her there, keeping her warm.

“The naiads tried to drown me,” she said, sniffling. “I’m not swimming again. Not in a million years.”

“I thought you wanted to be the best swimmer at camp?”

His eyes were blue, she noted; they matched the calm waters of the lake. Normal blue and normal Luke. Just as it always should’ve been.

She looked away, arms crossed.

“Irene was right. Athena doesn’t belong in the water.”

“Hmm. Maybe Athena doesn’t. But you aren’t Athena. You’re Annabeth, and you can do anything.”

“Tell that to the naiads,” she grumbled.

He smiled, making his eyes crinkle. “I did. And they agreed to let you be. I do have some charm, you know.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The ladies can’t resist.”

She shoved him, grimacing. “Yuck!”

“Hey, girls love it! Now, come on.” He stood, and in he went to the canoe lake, disrupting the peace of the smooth water and splashing her everywhere. Holding his arms up, he signaled for her to jump as well.

She shook her head at him.

“Aw, come on! Don’t be scared, ‘Beth! I won’t let go of you. I won’t let you drown.”

“…Promise?”

“Promise.”

She didn’t need to hesitate anymore; all she did was jump into his waiting arms.

I won’t let go of you.

I won’t let you drown.

But he did. Time was cruel; no wonder Kronos wished for a war, for revenge. Time brought change and destruction. Birth and death. It shriveled things and turned them to dust. Luke may have loved her once, but Time broke them both apart into tiny shards of glass.

.

School was on the farthest corner of her mind the next day. She woke to the feverish sun sneaking through her pale curtains. Immediately, she wanted nothing but to curl under the covers. To melt into them like candle wax until no one remembered her. Or better yet, so that everyone would grieve. So that they would look for her in every corner of the world but never find a single trace. She’d be a legend, a strange happenstance from that past.

“Ah, yes. Annabeth Chase. The girl who vanished and shook the world with her mystery.”

Nothing like that happened. Though she did stumble into the bathroom from the nausea, only for her stomach to find nothing but water. She dry heaved and cried, tremors running up and down her body. She must’ve collapsed—lost her balance—because for a while, she laid there, on the cool bathroom tiles and staring at the wooden ceiling like some discarded doll.

Her father found her in that state. He rushed to her, wrapping her in his arms like she was five years old all over again and tucking her in bed.

Her eyes fluttered open a few times, catching Frederick’s wrinkled forehead and wrinkled eyes. He was worried. Concerned. She wasn’t going to lie: that was a nice change.

“—A fever,” he said. She didn’t hear the rest.

Helen said something in response. Annabeth couldn’t focus on that, either.

“I’ll stay by her bedside until she wakes up. Maybe that’ll help,” her father said.

I should be sick more often, she thought, then drifted off to sleep.

Hellish nightmares followed her there. Some were of Percy, burning alive. Others were of Luke, his eyes golden. Once in a while, she’d wake up, only to feel her eyes weigh down on her face. All those times, she’d have no choice but to welcome her nightmares again.

Hours or years or days passed before she could manage to be awake fully. The sound of a typing computer lulled her brain, but she had a mission; she wouldn’t let her mind slip away. She craned her neck to where the clicks and clacks echoed from, blinking a few times in the process.

There sat her dad, on her desk chair.

“Dad?” she croaked.

He turned, then beamed once he saw her fully awake.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’re you feeling?”

“Mm. Better.” She yawned, sitting up fully. “How long was I out?”

Frederick wheeled his chair toward her, arms resting on his thighs and brows furrowed. “Since yesterday morning.” He held his palm out and touched her forehead, murmuring, “Fever’s gone, at least. We should take you to a doctor, though, now that you’re awake.”

“No, wait. Dad. I’m not—”

“You’re not sick?” he finished for her, eyebrows raised. “The evidence presented in front of me says otherwise.”

“Yeah, I know, but…I was fine before, and this happened after I saw…”

“Your friend?”

“I mean, he’s not—” But she stopped herself before she could say, ‘ he’s not my friend.’ Instead she nodded and said softly, “Luke, yeah.”

Frederick handed her a glass of water, and she drank, slowly and carefully.

“I don’t pretend to understand everything going on with this…second titanomachy,” her dad said. “But I…I’m worried, Annabeth.”

Why did his visit make you sick? What is going on?

She knew that’s what he meant to ask. But the comment was left unsaid, a strange buzzing filling into the after-pause.

She shrugged. “Probably the nightmares. Sometimes that can happen, just never…to this extent, I guess.”

She watched him purse his lips. He knew almost nothing about her, even if, these days, he tried. He tried, but she still had half of a goddess. It was a part of her that he would never fully see, hidden away from his eyes in case it ever became a nuisance, a disturbance.

.

Recovery came quickly. Nevertheless, she missed half a week of school. She made sure to study and email her teachers—finish everything she had to finish—but really, that was just an excuse to not think about anything else.

Like Percy, for one.

What Luke had told her stayed in the shadows of her days. Her dreams, too—as well as her strange illness. Or at least the memory of it. She hadn’t lied to her dad when she’d said that dreams affected her in more ways than one, but this was a new record.

A god was trying to warn her of something. Perhaps it was Kronos’ doing, even. In any case, the dreams had taken a toll on her.

Percy and Luke and everything had taken a toll on her.

How much truth had been shown in her dreams?

Were they prophetic? What would happen to Luke with those unnerving, glowing eyes?

He’d talked in a voice that wasn’t his—an ancient voice—warning about Percy and control.

They don’t call flaws ‘fatal’ for nothing.

The last time she and Percy talked about fatal flaws, neither of them knew what his flaw was. Yours is hubris. Carrying the world on your shoulders feels easy, doesn’t it?

But what was Percy’s? Could it really be…

There was this terrible feeling, a tightening in her chest.

Suddenly, she was aware of an incoming IM. The air in front of her shimmered like water. Percy. Fuck. Without thinking, she swatted at the mist with her hands, clearing it away before it could form into the image of her boyfriend.

That’s when she realized: Percy couldn’t see her like this. He knew her too well; he would ask questions and she’d have no choice but to answer. For some reason, she couldn’t trust herself to bring up Luke in front of him. To bring up her dreams.

In came another call. With a swish of her arm, it disappeared again.

She could imagine Percy’s confused expression as he sat on his bed, wondering why his girlfriend had deliberately decided not to answer. So she stumbled over to her desk and opened her laptop. She unlocked her email and typed:

I’m sorry Perce. I was going to tell you that I can’t answer because my cousin Magnus is in town. He’s with me in my room at the moment. Didn’t want to freak him out lol. Also he’ll stay here for a bit. Probably until June. I hope it doesn’t bother you so much but I think that we should communicate via mail. Less risky and all that haha. So yeah I hope you’re well and say hi to Sally for me <3

Your gf,

Annabeth :)

She clicked send.

Gods, she hated herself sometimes.

Coward, Luke’s voice taunted, in her mind.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

But it was the truth. She couldn’t even face her boyfriend. Couldn’t even tell him about what was on her mind.

You think that he might leave, once he sees how weak you are. You couldn’t even see your oldest friend without it taking a physical toll.

She swatted those thoughts away like she did with Percy’s Iris Messages, but it was no use. They were here to stay, drawn with permanent markers in her brain.

Percy replied right away. He told her that it was fine—that not to worry. It would only be a month until they saw each other in person, anyway.

See Percy. After all this time.

They’d planned that, too. Annabeth would take a detour to New York City before arriving at camp, and they’d spend the afternoon at the movies like a normal teenage couple before they had to act the complete opposite of that.

A small, horrible part of her was glad that she’d lied to him. That she could fall on the excuse of her cousin Magnus—never mind that she saw him last when she was seven and had no news of him since then.

She had to, though, she had to lie to protect him from herself. So she curled up in her bed and waited for June.

[feifiefofum]

sozin’s comet- avatar state was not just a deus ex machina

well, on the surface, it kinda was. but there’s an important line by ozai that elevates it beyond deus ex machina that nobody seems to appreciate.

‘after generations of fire lords failed to find you, now the universe delivers you to me as an act of providence.’-ozai (being a dumb bitch(still love you joker/luke skywalker))

you know how you’re not supposed to tempt fate? there are traditions from all cultures around the world that have you not ‘jinx’ your own damn self before any performance. even today, stage performers tell each other to ‘break a leg’ ie wishing/predicting a bad outcome so said outcome doesn’t happen.

and what does ozai do? he pretty much taunts the universe, aka providence, aka the cosmic will of said universe, with a offhanded remark about how facing the avatar was a favor the universe bestowed upon him.

which ties in nicely to what i hate the most about certain religiously slanted superiority complex types. and that’s the presumption that you know exactly what the big person upstairs is doing in any meaningful way. the sheer arrogance that drips from that is hubris that is just begging to be brought low in such an ironic way that it’d be painful to watch if it weren’t so justly deserved.

and what happens in his epic showdown? because of ozai’s bloodthirsty, violent beatdown on a kid barely in his teens, ozai pushes the avatar into a precisely pointed rock that reconnects said avatar to the cosmic flow of the universe, aka the avatar state.

this elevates the return of the avatar state above deus ex machina to a douglas adams bit where the narrator stares directly into the audiences’ eyes to deadpan ‘and nothing went this idiot’s way because he’s dumb’.

yeah avatar state aang beating up on ozai was a beautifully rendered, jaw droppingly choreographed fight, but people seem to miss that it’s fucking hilarious. ozai literally disrespected the fucking universe, and the universe said ‘bet’ and took ozai out by having him be the instrument to spell his own doom.

y’know how we have a saying about how a pebble couldn’t change the course a river? well, the universe said i could with change the course of this fight with this specific protrusion in a rock formation. and it did.

[neighborhoodmoonchild]

ᾰ̓γᾰ́πη

Pairing(s): Cursed!Seokjin x Reader

Genre(s): Fantasy Au, Fluff, Soulmate Au

Summary: “There’s a story whispered around here. One surrounding the beautifully carved statue of a man at the center of the town. Legend says that when the hand of his true love graces his palm, he shall wake from his cursed marbled slumber. It’s always been a silly old wives tale, until you give in to a friend’s dare.” (prompt idea from writing-prompt-s)

Warning(s): mild language

Word Count: 1.8K

Part I, Part 2, Part 3, ...

taglist: @best-space-boy @maryelixabeth @mochimaw @yeontanismypresident @hannahantonette17 @ign-is @fanfuckingfic @koala-wonderland @suchgayaesthetic​ @dulcaet​

~ if you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, feel free to send me an ask! thank you💜

The statue was no doubt beautiful. At times, it looked as if it truly was just an incredibly pale living man standing still, transfixed by something the naked eye could not see. Stories, old wives tales, the likes, manifested around it, creeping their way into the homes of every person ‘lucky’ enough to dwell within the town. They graced the tongues of parents at each late night bedtime story to their children, snuck into the early morning gossip of elderly women topping off tea cups, and laid dreamily in the back of every young girl’s mind, each one hoping to be the key to end the curse.

Growing up in this small town, it was hard to ignore the incessant buzz surrounding the terrifyingly detailed slab of marble. However, the challenge intrigued you, spurring you on at a young age to scorn those of ‘childish’-enough mind to ever believe in such nonsense as the ‘Story of the Statue.’ How ridiculous could one be to believe that the statue was once a man, and that the only way to return him to his ‘true form’ was the hand of his ‘one true love?’

If one should believe in such a thing as a living hunk of rock, it would make just as much sense to one day find half the townspeople deep in conversation with their hairbrushes.

Insane is a good way to describe it.

Completely and utterly bonkers another.

Much to your dismay, however, the entire town seemed to believe the exact opposite. Placing your hand upon the statue’s at midday became a reveled ritual for the townspeople. Men and women alike took their chance to entertain the mystery; to indulge in their deepest fantasy of being a part of the magic.

It was this 180 of belief from yours that ended in your own scrutiny. Instead of the ‘magical statue’ being the center of ridicule, it most often times was you. You couldn’t count on your fingers and toes combined the number of times you’d heard your name amongst the petty laughter of your neighbors, or caught the wicked smirks of the other girls your age as they hushed their voices as to be ‘undetected.’

It was painfully obvious that your reluctance to accept what has always been a town tradition made you an outcast amongst them all. The only friend you’d had to stick around being the quiet girl in the house neighboring yours.

In all honesty, she was quite drab at times, most of her vocabulary consisting of the words ‘soulmate,’ ‘statue,’ and ‘magic.’ Yes, she was just as deep into the mess of it all as everyone else, it seemed. As much as it pained you to sit through her lengthy airs on how romantic the whole situation was, that she’d do anything to be the soulmate the man was waiting for, she was the only one that had stuck around to entertain your rants.

Maybe her head was so far in the clouds your negative words never truly reached past the tips of her ears, but you were nonetheless grateful to have someone to at least pretend to listen, and she never made you feel any less-than for having differing opinions. Though, it didn’t stop her from picking fun every now and then, claiming that there must be a small part of you that was even slightly curious.

Her efforts to bring forth the inner-believer in you is what led to the present moment you find yourself in.

The face of utter disgust mixed with slight terror must have looked quite an odd combination for someone about to do the most mundane of things one could do in this particular town. It was as normal as walking your dog, or fetching the mail, yet this was a spectacle most could agree on as being anything but.

The nervousness could not be helped, no matter how desperately you tried to remind yourself that this was nonsense.

An intense burning sensation was the only thing your tingling form could truly comprehend, the eyes of nosy day-goers relishing in the sight of the known town hypocrite about to suddenly go against her beliefs. If anything, you seemed to attract an entire crowd, as if you were the main act in a thrilling road show that would come and go so quickly, the people rushed to witness it before it was gone.

A shooting star, a comet across the night sky, or an eclipse perhaps.

‘Get ahold of yourself,’ you thought, wiping your increasingly sweaty palms across the denim of your jeans.

‘It’s just a silly story, all you have to do is touch it,’ your mind reminded you. The more stares you garnered, the whispers becoming a loud buzz in your ears fighting above the rush of blood pounding through, the more your confidence seemed to crumble.

A tiny speck of a part of you wormed its way up through the depths of your being to call out to the reasonable part of your brain ‘what if it’s true?’

In the unbelievable off-chance that you were wrong, could you deal with the backlash of standing so firmly against it?

As you felt the warm push from the instigator of this whole affair, her face adorned with a slightly amused smirk, you realized that even if this whole story is true, there was no way in the universe that you would ever be the soulmate the story talks about.

Your experience with men is virtually nonexistent. The last time you’d indulged in the whirlwind of possible ‘romance’ had been when your middle school crush had kissed you quickly on the lips after school on a dare, promptly gagging afterwards and swearing to the high heavens that ‘girls are gross.’

Maybe you were traumatized from the whole experience, never mind the fact that the men of your town just weren’t vying for the attention of the town laughingstock, but romantic relationships just weren’t a part of your story.

It didn’t really matter much to you anyways, considering all the eligible men are, have been, and always will be, meager farm boys living off what their ancestors have laid down for them. Not that there was anything innately wrong with that way of life, it just wasn’t what you wanted for yourself and your future.

You have big plans, ones that include getting as far away from this place as possible, and no man was going to get in the way of that.

You’d rather die a painful, lengthy death than be a little hometown wife the rest of your life, reduced to nothing more than mindless cleaning, cooking, and birthing children. To be the ‘property’ of some man that could never understand your true potential; your true worth.

So, despite the twinge of fear lacing the edges of your mind, creating a rigidness in your limbs as you crossed the dirt path to the statue, you rose to the occasion, in a sense.

Maybe this would lay to rest the constant chatter of snobby folk, let them believe that, even for a moment, they’d found a way to manipulate you into their way of thinking. Maybe they’d finally stop whispering petty words when you passed, even begin to accept you into their society, not that you were desperate for that.

Or perhaps, it would give you a little more piece of mind, at least. Quell an unadmitted thirst to understand the hype so you could be completely unattached from this silly thing and hopefully move on with your life.

Those things would not change over the few seconds it would take to finish the deed, but as your mind raced through the possible aftermaths of what you were about to do, a change of sorts had definitely begun.

It was like all of time and space slowed around you. The closer the statue came into your field of vision, it was like entering a tunnel, or vortex, that sucked you in further and blurred reality around you.

And then everything stopped.

There, mere centimeters from you, lie the statue. It’s intricate detail and craftsmanship a new level of divine when admired closely. This was the closest you’d ever been to it and it stole the breath right from your lungs.

It was a strange feeling, mixed with the stares, the heat of the summer day, the nervousness in your belly, and the charge floating through the air. An unnerving mix that, shockingly, calmed the thoughts waging war within you. Like everything was numb, quiet, peaceful almost.

“Just do it already!” A shrill voice called out, followed by the sound of agreement flowing through the crowd. It snapped you from your state, reminding you of the task at hand.

With a little less reluctance than you’d expected, your hand reached out in the direction of the statue’s. Fingers shakily outstretching, all at once, your palm slid into the cool marble one.

It was smooth, yet you could feel every ridge and line like that of a human hand. The cool feeling of the marble against your clammy flesh was surprising considering the temperature the day had suffered through.

You hadn’t even realized your eyes were closed, breath held, until you opened your eyes upon the exhale, coming face-to-face with...

A statue.

You couldn’t help the anxious giggle that slipped from your lips like a mad woman.

You were right, well, at least that was one possibility. You’d touched the damn thing and nothing happened, just like you’d expected.

So why, among the rush of relief, was there an aftertaste of disappointment on your tongue?

The crowd, mildly satisfied and admittedly bored, had begun to disperse as you stood there, hand still placed in the statue’s.

Even though you’d bit the bullet, gotten it over with, you weren’t sure what to do now that it was done. For some reason, you couldn’t seem to pull yourself away, tell your friend ‘I told you so,’ and get on with your life, finally free of the unknown.

That same familiar warmth that pushed you here found its way back to your shoulder.

“Alright, you’ve proven your point...for now. Let’s go.”

Without turning your head to acknowledge her, you looked up into the face of the hunk of rock. For a fleeting moment, you felt as if you were staring into the eyes of another human being.

Without a word, you slowly turned to retreat back to your home, emotions a frenzy you couldn’t quite understand, let alone share with another soul.

As you began to take that first step away from the thing, your hand slipping carefully out of its grasp, you felt the smallest bit of movement behind you.

Before you could turn around on your own, something warm wrapped around your wrist, spinning you back to face the creation that plagued your mind.

Only, you weren’t met the the stark white of the marble, but the ivory tone of skin. Stiffly sculpted hair now flowing freely, dark, with the wind. Empty, pale eyes now filled with a deep rich brown, struck wide as emotion after emotion swirled within them.

Shouts and gasps echoed throughout the square, eyes of every villager as wide as their gaped mouths, returning to their prior posts, the show ending with a twist no one could have predicted.

Mind and body going into an immediate state of shock, there was no time to process anything at all before the weight of the now-man collapsed down from his pedestal onto you.

So the stories held some truth after all...

To Be Continued...

[oosteven-universe]

Killswitch #4

Killswitch #4 Action Lab Danger Zone 2019 Written by Jeffrey & Susan Bridges Illustrated by Walter Geovani Coloured by Brittany Peer Lettered by Ed Dukeshire    It’s chaos on the comet exterior as Marcella and the Augurs make their final bid for freedom. Even if they succeed, they’ll have to deal with a society that hates and fears them, and that may be too much for them to bear… and not everyone makes it out alive.    Well the final chapter of the first arc is here at long last.  I have to say now that I have read the arc, my hat is off to the Bridges’ for creating a universe like this one.  The struggle against oppression isn’t anything new however the people and the setting do set it apart from other franchises we’ve seen.  Marcella is a very interesting character and as a protagonist she really does hold a very special place amidst all this.  We’ve been building up to this issue and now that’s it here I think everything has played out the way it should.  The first arc in a new franchise that’s packed with adventure, danger and so much more.    I like the way that this is being told very much.  The story & plot development that we see through how the sequence of events unfold as well as how the reader learns information is beautifully presented.  While I get why Action Lab does four issue arcs I do wish this would’ve been five because I would like to have seen more with Raymond.  This doesn’t diminish what we see in the slightest; it is just something that the fan in me wanted more of.  The character development is really rather interesting to me.  We have seen Marcella go through this amazing transformation while the Augur’s themselves have seemingly kept their original personalities intact.  Well maybe Spike changed a bit too.  The pacing here is great and as it takes us through the pages revealing the twists and turns along the way we see how this and everything else works together to create the books ebb & flow.    I have watched this book grow and evolve just like the characters inside and I will say that this is so much better than you could possibly realise.  There is something in the way these Augur’s are treated and the characters we see that can be relatable to and empathise with.  I like that we see this self-discovery from Marcella and see her finally coming into her own as it makes a very strong statement.    Walter’s work on the interiors is really nice.  Granted the man needs to utilise backgrounds more because the inside of a ship, I don’t care what kind, should feel enclosed and near claustrophobic or at least show that it would be tight quarters to fight in.  I miss that kind of spatial feeling when all we see are blank backgrounds.  That having been said his characters are flawlessly executed.  Faces, facial structures and body language give off some emotion and attitude to the reader and in the armour or space suits the attention is phenomenal.  The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels show a strong eye for storytelling.  The colour work is really nice to see.  Brittany always impresses me with what she can and does do.  Whether they are in a cave in a comet in the dark or a brightly lit room the way we see the hues and tones within the colours utilised to create shading, highlights and shadow work is extremely well rendered. ​    If you haven't been reading this then may I suggest contacting your local shop and having them order a trade paperback for you.  Action Lab is the “Little Engine That Could” of the comics industry as they show the world that the quality of storytelling that comes from their house is as good as anything else on stands today.  So find Killswitch and see what kind thrilling adventures await.

[macperalta]

Top 5 b99 fic recs?

ahhh ok ok there are so many good fics out there that I’m obsessed with (cause this fandom is SO TALENTED) but here are my current favorites

you’re a king, and i’m a lionheart by @elsaclack (honestly i will recommend everything that em wrote, but i revisit this one piece CONSTANTLY. it’s legendary, yall!!! also s/o to my girl @startofamoment for coming up this amazing AU)

you are so consistent by @hotelsweet (i was rereading these one shots the other day cause i miss darcey’s writing and i was just reminded how much i love them. they are simple but so so good, 100% recommend)

Love me, just for a bit by @sergeant-santiago (another all-time favorite. i still remember when lucia put out this masterpiece about a year ago and blew my mind!!! go read it!)

like a comet pulled from orbit by @johnny-and-dora (sian literally just published this yesterday and i haven’t stop thinking about it SINCE!!! it’s so beautifully written and heartfelt and i refuse to stop thinking about it!)

like a river flows by @peraltasames​ (you guys know that i LOVE amy’s pov and these fools falling in love, this fic got it all!! i just love maddie’s writings so mUCH!)

I feel like there are still so many more fics that are worth recommending! so you can check my #fics tag for more amazing b99 fics🌹

ask me my top five of anything

[belizedeservesbetter]

Hadestown Has Something to Say!

And I’m so glad it does!

File Hadestown under Shows That Make You Go “Hmm.” This is a show I’ve liked more and more the longer the show has been over and the more I’ve had time to sit and think about it. 

Overall, I really really loved it. It’s such a rich musical filled with amazing stage pictures and beautiful music and really powerful and passionate performances. This is a passion project on stage and it’s marvelous.

The score, of course, is amazing. Anais Mitchell has really written something very special here. I’ve really never heard anything like it before on Broadway - this mix of folk and jazz and rock with an undercurrent of sheer musical theatre. The “Chants” in particular are astounding. Likewise “When the Chips Are Down” and “Wait For Me” and “His Kiss, the Riot” are stunning achievements in musical theatre writing. However. I have one very big qualm about the score, but I’ll talk about this later. 

I know we all love Rachel Chavkin but she really is quite stellar. The phrase I keep coming back to when thinking about her directing style is “all consuming.” Between this and The Great Comet, her musicals feel like being swallowed whole by which I mean everything is very big and very powerful and very emotional and very much like I’m being punched in the gut. I love this feeling. I love theatre that makes me feel like the rest of the world doesn’t exist and she does this with her work. 

What Chavkin does with stage imagery is phenomenal. There is a real sense of other worldliness while still being very grounded in the one we live in. You can tell she really gets these characters and she gets these themes and literally every moment is used to drive the story and make you feel something. There’s a real sense of power in her directing that makes the audience feel every suckerpunch of this show. “Wait For Me” in particular was a showstopper. 

The lighting was wonderful. Like truly stunning. The contrast between light and dark in this show was really interesting and sources of light and what that means was also very fascinating to see. From Eurydice’s candle to the handheld miner lights, everything had meaning and everything felt very poignant. 

Everyone in this show is very good. There isn’t a single bad performance. Eva Noblezada was very surprisingly good - surprising only because I’d never seen her perform before and she really added a lot of good things to Eurydice. 

However, this is Amber Grey’s world and we’re all just living in it. She is AMAZING. She steals every scene and every moment. She is absolutely incredible in every way. The hype about her performance is 100% real and she is honestly and truly the best part of the show. I can’t imagine anyone else playing this role because she is truly perfect. Her Persephone is so layered and so fearful and damaged and fraying at the edges and yet so strong and steadfast and determined. I want to see the show again and just focus in on her the whole time because she is amazing. Even just the way she moves and dances was electric. 

And of course Patrick Page is also stellar. He brings such an intensity to every role he plays, and Hades feels like the culmination of Many Years of Intense Roles. This is also the second role where he’s been mean to Reeve Carney. But I digress. He’s fantastic. His “His Kiss, the Riot” vibrated throughout the entire theatre. His Hades is so complicated and yet very simple and the way Page carries his Hades is really really wonderful. He has this fluidity to him (that also echoes throughout the entire show and I’ll talk about this later) that feels like he was made to be in this very moment at this time. 

André de Shields was another standout for how present he is during the entire show. He doesn’t leave the stage at all really during the entire show and he has this particular brand of swagger and simmer to him. I felt him there throughout the whole just contemplating the cycle of everything going on and yet when the focus wasn’t on him he didn’t steal the attention. Hermes is a very complicated role (side note but I have a theory he’s Orpheus’ dad) because he’s part narrator, part plot moving character and the only one aware of how time works in this world and is also the one telling us the story from start to finish. He has to balance the whole show on his shoulders and de Shields does it wonderfully. 

My goodness those Fates. They were sinister and terrifying and felt like the true villains of the show. They’re basically inner demons personified and they infected every character in the most deliciously evil way. They were so fascinating to watch and I want to read like ten think pieces on them. 

I’ve been raving about this show but there are some things I really didn’t like about it and want to address. 

The first is that all the actors really play to the center orchestra, and, likewise, it’s very much directed that way. The sight lines from the sides is kind of bad, especially from the rush seats. I felt like I was staring at their backs more than I’d like to. They need to play to the whooooole audience. By the way, the rush situation for this show is Awful and they only have like five tickets total. Like that’s all. Myself and a friend got there at like 4:30am and we’re fifth and 6th in line and they had already run out of evening show tickets and we got the last of the matinee ones. About twenty people behind us had also been waiting like 5 hours and got absolutely nothing. So be warned of that! 

And my biggest qualm with the show. My biggest biggest problem with the show is that Anais Mitchell ruined my absolute favorite part of the show with the Broadway transfer. All three “Epics” were my favorite songs in the show and had the most beautiful imagery in the Off-Broadway run and concept album. Here, however, they’ve been stripped of their beautiful poetry and imagery and are really basic songs. I was SO disappointed. The three songs that were my favorite parts of the show became the worst parts of the show. The new versions are honestly bad and it’s disappointing because they didn’t used to be and they don’t have to be. 

It’s hard to believe that Orpheus’ song is gonna save the world because it’s the weakest song in the show. Reeve sings it beautifully but I was so disappointed and honestly hated this change. 

Speaking of Reeve, he’s good! He isn’t amazing, but he’s good and I like the very different approach he’s taking with Orpheus. His Orpheus is scared and anxious and insecure but very very talented. Reeve really gets his footing in Act Two, where he shines. Not spoiling anything but the second to last scene is his best and he’s completely heartbreaking. 

The show is super interesting in how it moves forward and progresses. It just kind of flows from one thing to the next and one moment to the next and it actually reminded me a lot of wind. It felt very much like the wind was blowing the story along and I know that’s a weird way to put it but that felt very much like a thing that was going on.

Also, this show has this really beautiful fluidity in the way characters walk and the way everyone, especially Hades, moves on the turntables. Honestly this is the best use of turntables I’ve ever seen in theatre. It creates the atmosphere and adds so much to the cyclical nature of things and the way it shows movement is beyond beautiful. The movement throughout this show really shined. 

Hadestown has a lot to say and I’m so glad it does. I’m so glad this is a bold new musical that wants to say something and says it. 

There’s so much in this show about capitalism and the dangers of power hungry capitalists and there’s so much about poverty and the lengths people will go to get simple basic needs fulfilled. There’s something really interesting in this show about work and how powerful people use it to completely dehumanize people. Likewise, there’s this very interesting struggle between art and capitalism and artists and money which was super interesting to see personified in Orpheus and Hades. 

Much like Oklahoma!, I felt this show also had a strong theme of “us versus them” especially in “Why We Build the Wall.”  This is such a big thing in American culture that I’ve seen displayed a lot in theatre lately and I think it’s important that it is. It’s important that we’re forced to confront things about America as a whole country that have been prevalent forever but never said aloud. 

Interestingly enough, I feel like Hadestown says a lot about activism. And leadership. Orpheus is continuously presented as this musician who is going to change the world and yet Orpheus isn’t entirely capable in his actions. He has the right words but he doesn’t trust himself enough to fully believe in it - or that others believe in him - despite this song doing magical things. He also must be physically pushed by Hermes to do anything. I saw this as an interesting statement on those who can change the world relying on words over action as well as talking about self confidence and doubt and believing/not believing in yourself. I know that Damon Daunno played Orpheus as extremely cocky and self-assured and seeing Reeve Carney at the opposite end of this is very interesting. I’d like to see Orpheus played somewhere in the middle. 

Going along with that, consequences and choices are a big theme in Hadestown, and I felt that most of the time Eurydice was forced to make choices in order to survive and faced horrible consequences anyway rather than the usual “dumb characters makes bad decision and suffers” or even the Louis Ironson kind of “He knows he shouldn’t do this but is going to do it anyway” kind of thing. 

Oddly enough I loved the statement on climate change this show made. 

I’ve found myself being drawn to art and theatre about cycles and repetitions lately, and Hadestown is exactly that to a t. I don’t know why I love theatre like this so much, maybe it’s my inherent pessimism that nothing ever changes and that we as humans inherently bold that capacity for badness in us, but I suppose it also goes along with my inherent optimism that things can change, we as humans have the capacity for change and maybe one day we actually will. The way this show ends is really really wonderful in this way. 

And of course this show speaks so much about love and love and heartbreak and love and trust. Old love and new love. The parallels between Hades/Persephone and Orpheus/Eurydice are really well done. Trust is such an interesting aspect of this show and I’m glad Anais Mitchell and Rachel Chavkin never shy away from the uglier aspects of it. 

Lastly, Hadestown has what I will now be calling Big SNM Energy, aka Big Sleep No More Energy. I am fully convinced that Chavkin took some inspiration from that show, or at least both Hadestown and Sleep No More take place in the same universe. 

The vibe and feel of both shows is incredibly similar. Likewise, the swinging lights in “Wait For Me” are exactly like the swinging lights in Sleep No More. There were also similar themes of things happening in a cycle, things repeating but moving forward anyway, good and evil, temptation and choices/consequences. The Fates had a very similar feel to the three Sleep No More witches when they’re together. The sheer detail of it all and the location. My friend thinks Hecate is Hades’ ex, which actually narratively works for both shows. 

Hadestown will absolutely be a show I revisit as much as I can because there is just so much in there. There’s so much detail and so much to think about, which all good theatre should have. 

[noveltylsland-blog]

Our 2019 First Quarter Roundup

thank u, next - Ariana Grande

(Republic)

Ariana Grande has followed up last year’s charming Sweetener with a more consistent, more confident and more moving record; thank u, next. As usual, Ariana’s voice is really something to behold, hitting every note perfectly as she delves into her own heartbreak, loss and guilt following the death of her ex-boyfriend, Mac Miller. Ariana bravely goes into this with no features, which proves to be a powerful decision, as there are no obnoxious Pharrell additions or out-of-date Lil Wayne verses, making for an appropriately personal record. As if to ease us away from the lack of rap features, we are treated to a Wendy Rene sample on ‘Fake Smile’, which will put a real smile on the face of any hip-hop head. The juxtaposition of deep lyrical themes with the positive, playful instrumentation is rather refreshing, and it’s good to see Ariana excited about life and this new chapter in her life. -M

Gallipoli - Beirut

(4AD)

Zach Condon’s Beirut project has buried Balkan folk deep in the hearts of the Western indie fanatics ever since the release of its first three albums. He’s had us enamoured with the sound ever since, and while Beirut’s work has seemingly gotten ever more formulaic and poppy, that folky, worldly manifesto has never really left Condon. Compared to 2015’s No No No, the most recent Beirut project Gallipoli actually sees him taking it in a more varied and independent direction, and you’ll be hard-pushed to find anything objectionable as Beirut traverse their usual pastures of percussive ukulele and various organs and synthesisers. Gallipoli isn’t short of entirely new sounds for the band either and, indeed, it’s hard to see it as anything but a solid record. Condon might not be making the same impact on the musical landscape as he was thirteen years ago but this is his most consistent release in a decade. Gallipoli proves there are indie bands in far worse form than Beirut; an admirably fresh and progressive release for a band who probably don’t particularly need to be either of those things. -E

Assume Form - James Blake

(Polydor)

Even if it isn’t quite the musical landscape-defining, career-best record that James Blake seems inevitably destined to produce, Assume Form goes quite some distance to confirming him as one of this era of popular music’s defining and most influential figures. And that means a lot, considering no one else is really quite like him. There’s a very particular beauty to the combination of Blake’s music style and his love-themed lyricism, and Assume Form sees both assemble for an impressive, career-best effort. More checked for excess than The Colour in Anything but more stylistically developed than Overgrown, the niche Blake has found treads a fine line between hip-hop and sparse, soulful electronica. Assume Form shows what he can do with both, seeing the likes of Travis Scott and Andre 3000, but also Moses Sumney and Rosalía, make impactful and appropriate appearances alongside Blake’s own plainly romantic lyrics. He’s refreshingly obsessive and open but never too doting or unrelatable, and tracks such as ‘Assume Form’, ‘Can’t Believe the Way We Flow’ and ‘I’ll Come Too’ clearly reveal this untethered romantic happiness. Whether you like his newfound bessottedness or not, one can’t deny Blake has carved himself a distinctive aesthetic, to such an extent it’s no wonder his collaboration is so sought-after by hip-hop artists. Even more exciting is that there’s probably much better to come from Blake, and he remains (as he has for the last ten years) one of the most interesting and exciting artists in popular music. -E

Liv - Daniel Blumberg & Hebronix

(Mute)

Apparently a collaboration between Daniel Blumberg and himself (an endeavour I’m still not sure is artistically innovative or a bit pretentious) Liv builds on Blumberg’s 2018 release Minus with impressive amounts of abrasive noise and more chaotic baroque instrumentation. Hebronix is supposed to be Blumberg’s own psych-pop project, predating his releases under his own name, but on Liv it seems like he’s used it to fill out his own sound. His lonely vocals are more like Phil Elverum on the louder Microphones/Mount Eerie records, while the scrawls of anxious feedback that underly the majority of Liv endlessly build to lengthy, haunting finales; entirely validating the record’s lack of drums. The fact that Liv was recorded in only one take is a feat unto itself, never mind the consistency and coherence that it gives the record. Despite seeing releases on the infamous Mute Records, Blumberg continues to be overlooked by pretty much everyone – and as he’s putting out exceptional, genre-bending experimental music like this he deserves far, far more attention than he currently enjoys. -E

Careful - Boy Harsher

(Nude Club)

Despite “minimal wave” having seemingly ran its course, Boy Harsher provide another argument for it being the perfect time to rework the genre. On Careful, inspiration is clearly drawn from the likes of Depeche Mode and New Order, but whereas these bands created colourful, dynamic dance tracks, Boy Harsher do the complete opposite; as if they’ve been booked to DJ a funeral. Ghostly vocals speak of abandonment and loss over layers of cold, pounding synths and minimal drums – fit for any cyberpunk movie. Dotted throughout the record are a handful of quieter, atmospheric moments which add to this cinematic feel; intensifying the anxious, dark nature of the project. This is a synthpop record which truly reflects the times. –M

Trust in the Lifeforce of the Deep Mystery - The Comet is Coming

(Impulse!)

The sophomore offering from The Comet Is Coming is the latest outstanding British jazz record, taking the reins from from Sons of Kemet’s 2017 offering Your Queen is a Reptile (incidentally another project with the involvement of Shabaka Hutchings), with more of an electronic, rock fusion. Fusion of the last twenty years has usually been the result of influence the other way, injected jazz into electronic, funk or rock music; but Trust in the Lifeforce of the Deep Mystery appears to have come the opposite way. Foremostly a jazz record but enhanced and driven by elements of other genres, it’s catchy and passionate spiritual jazz, topped off with harks to Sun Ra and an inventive space-age theme. The Comet is Coming are yet more evidence of the burgeoning, world-leading London jazz scene and this is easily one of the year’s most striking and innovative releases. -E

Czarface Meets Ghostface - Czarface and Ghostface Killah

(Silver Age)

The follow up to the much-anticipated and mostly-forgotten Czarface Meets Metal Face, Czarface Meets Ghostface proves to be an enjoyable return to form for both Czarface and Ghostface Killah. As usual, all beats are produced by The Czar-Keys (7L and Jeremy Page) and are an electrifying mix of updated, gritty boom-bap, and futuristic beats reminiscent of early-morning superhero cartoons. Lyrically, the emcees really entertain, bringing the right amount of corniness needed for a project based around comic book superheroes, but still manage to sound imposing and even threatening when necessary. A specific standout moment is Esoteric’s verse on ‘The King Heard Voices’ in which he moves his way between four different flows with such ease. Comparisons with the collaboration with MF DOOM were always going to be drawn, and, for this album, that is a good thing. I’m not sure it would have been able to stand on its own, but in comparison, it shines. –M  

Remind Me Tomorrow - Sharon Van Etten

(Jagjaguwar)

Sharon Van Etten’s most lyrically and instrumentally developed record yet, Remind Me Tomorrow continues to carry Van Etten’s reputation for impressive songwriting and great capacity for reinvention. Her vocals are emotionally resonant and forthright and, helped by super-producer John Congleton, her instrumental developments clearly exceed that of her previous contemporary folk. Often the instrumentals here are moodier and heavy, even descending into lower-key, electronica-influenced, more Annie Clark-esque sound. Contrasting with that are lead singles ‘Comeback Kid’ and ‘Seventeen’, which have a Springsteen stomp to them, but mostly Remind Me Tomorrow’s tracks are of a more sullen quality. Well written, well produced, well performed, there isn’t much more one can ask of an indie album – and though Van Etten doesn’t pull out anything spectacular out of the bag on Remind Me Tomorrow, it’s one of the year’s strongest releases and a progressive release for her artistically. -E

This Is How You Smile - Helado Negro

(Rvng)

Robert Carlos Lange takes a step back from his usual focus on race and politics to reflect on his life and hone in on his musical soundscapes. Latin folk and atmospheric synths are mixed beautifully to create a cathartic listening experience which Lange guides us through with his gentle vocals, switching back and forth between English and Spanish. Lange’s hauntological influences are evident more than ever on Smile. Beneath the cosy, relaxed instrumentals there are field recordings and unnerving samples which give the nostalgic feel of a Caretaker project, with some of its dejectedness too. The perfect example of this is ‘Fantasma Vaga’, which directly translates to “Ghost Knife” in which Lange describes a supernatural figure over droning synths and sparse steel drums. The triumph of Smile is this ability to overlay and mix these tranquil folk songs, with a hint of discomfort, giving it just the right amount of edge. –M

Crushing - Julia Jacklin

(Polyvinyl)

The 2010’s have become synonymous with female singer-songwriter indie folk; Sharon van Etten, Angel Olsen and Courtney Barnett are just some of the artists who have really championed the genre. It has, however, become rather saturated in the past couple of years, making it that much harder to standout and make a name for oneself. Julia Jacklin has a lot to say, however, and is determined to be heard. Themes of betrayal, loneliness and acceptance are touched upon in a mature and articulate way. Jacklin stands out because she really gets into her subject matter; she intensely scrutinises herself and her surroundings in order to find answers to her questions and solutions to her problems. It is empowering and refreshing to hear an artist not only acknowledging their struggle with humanity and empathy, but so confidently confront and explore it. –M

Love Is - Jungstötter

(PIAS)

Gaining some buzz from his tour with Soap&Skin this spring, Fabian Alstötter’s debut album under the name Jungstötter is a gloomy affair. The name Jungstötter is a mix of his family name and the German word ‘jungstoter’, which translates to ‘young dead’, which perfectly embodies the overall theme of this record. The general slow pace of the album is occasionally disrupted by more intense and chaotic moments, creating some really dynamic and striking tracks. On listening to this record, a barrage of familiar sounds will flood your ears. From the intense baritone ballads of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the androgynous vocals of ANOHNI, there is a wealth of alternative art rock influences dotted throughout. Though, at times, Alstötter does seem reliant on his influences, it is a marvellous debut from the German, obviously keen to form his own signature sound. –M

[X X] - 이달의 소녀 [LOONA]

(BlockBerryCreative)

Loona’s reissued EP is a modern and fashionable set of pop tunes pretty typical of K-pop but with some characteristics Western listeners might find in the work of Grimes or, to a lesser extent, other electro-pop artists like SOPHIE and Charli XCX. Considering there are twelve members of Loona, [X X] is a watertight release, even if it stylistically varies a bit between tracks. Opener ‘X X’ combines electronic chillwave with dubstep in an interesting way, followed by the very modern album highlight ‘Butterfly’; and while many of the rest of the tracks aren’t particularly memorable, they certainly aren’t dull – ‘Colors’ even seems overtly influenced by American R’n’B. With all its similarities to Western pop, it’s easy to see [X X] as a record that could be a gateway into Korean pop music for Western listeners; with the added bonus of being of slightly more substance than your usual idol group. -E

Elephantine - Maurice Louca

(Northern Spy)

A by-product of the Arab Spring in 2011 was the development of a flourishing music scene in Egypt. Cairo-born composer and performer, Maurice Louca, is one of the most exciting names to have risen from this scene. On his third project, Elephantine, Louca explores native Egyptian jazz, surrounding them in the avant-garde. On the track ‘One More for the Gutter’, outbursts of free jazz are complemented by the intensity of guitar-led post-rock. Whilst the finale, ‘Al Khawaga’ is a powerful, repetitive groove littered with swinging horns and hectic drum fills. Elephantine is an inventive exploration, covering immense musical ground throughout its six compositions. –M

Malibu Ken - Malibu Ken

(Rhymesayers)

Aesop Rock has always kept a low profile and doesn’t seem too fussed about reaching the mainstreams. This collaboration with Tobacco of Black Moth Super Rainbow fame certainly doesn’t’ change that as his infamously lengthy and challenging bars have finally found a match. Tobacco’s own brand of neo-psychedelia and indietronica is so out of skew with traditional hip-hop beats that it gives Aesop an edge which he has certainly been missing in the past couple of years. Aesop revisits old themes and is as introspective and philosophical as ever, and opener, ‘Corn Maze’, and ‘Suicide Big Gulp’ showcase some of the best flows of his career. Tobacco’s production is faultless throughout the entire ten tracks, which is good to hear after last year’s lacklustre BMSR effort. Aesop Rock’s dry, esoteric style finds a new home in Tobacco’s weird world of psychedelia. –M

Girl With Basket of Fruit - Xiu Xiu

(Polyvinyl)

Even for Xiu Xiu, Girl With Basket of Fruit is a wild release. Post-pop, post-industrial, post-punk and post-everything, there’s nothing comfortable or light about it – especially compared to the Arcade Fire-cum-lunatic style of 2017’s Forget. So much of this record is unsettled and eerie, isolating and unpredictable. There’s bits of Swans (Thor Harris showing through), some Einstürzende Neubauten, some Suicide, some drone, some Baroque. There’s no belittling Xiu Xiu’s ability to entirely manipulate mood, and here demonstrates again the emotive uniqueness of Jamie Stewart’s exulting, uber-dramatic vocals as well as a new, unsettling sound that includes a pretty vast array of instruments from upright bass to electronic percussion. I’ll be listening to this for years before getting anywhere close to actually dissecting and understanding what Xiu Xiu are doing here, but that’s what makes it so compelling. There’s nothing else like it, an album of intriguingly formless music that’s worth hearing just to for the experience of being so entirely, helplessly intrigued. ­-E