#and this stigmata was also one of the first ones i saw when i started the game so. yeah hxhhd

[drysauce]

what is it with honkai guys and flowers and why must they be the cause of my demise (luocha and blade,,,,,,, OTL)

i'm sorry kafka but daman mills is voicing blade so hopefully i can get him too if i get luocha early TwT (though tbf the eng dub is... eh,,,so idk)

do i need another wind dps even when i'm maining dan heng atm... no.... however.

also got bronya the other day! she's so cool so slay bayonet go pew pew (kinda annoying since i was just building tingyun before i got bronya but ah well)

ajhsndhd you're right i forgot that blade also has flowers, spider lillies if im not mistaken

as for luocha i got so used to associating him with flowers that i almost stopped noticing, i mean these

have kinda the same vibe as this

where there are coffins there are flowers (and there's also luocha)

idk who daman mills is but. hope you'll get bladie! on a won 50/50 right after the blond fool<3 also also you don't like eng dub??? it's so good and there are so many va's from genshin hdhdhs

bladie is at least twice as good as dan heng ao he'd definitely be an upgrade to him, especially that he also does aoe dmg meanwhile dan heng is single target only. plus he works perfectly with luocha so if you manage to get both you'll have a really strong team!!

bronya haver... im so jealous i started this game with an intention to get all hi3 original people and the standard banner ks kinda giving me the opposite of that jdhxhd but congrats congrats!!! also don't worry about tingyun, for abyss you need two team anyway plus they're different elements so you can switch between them depending on which element you need more

[lovingherrscher]

Playing Honkai Impact with the BSD men (Dazai, Chuuya, Kunikida and Fyodor)

Note: Crack, OOC even maybe, random ideas at 2AM while I do the Honkai grinding. Might do a Genshin version later if I feel like it. Genre: Crack, fluff, if you squint hard enough there'll be 4th wall breaking and some spoilers for Storm Bringer.

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

Dazai:

Is willing to play with you, and he is kinda bored so he needs something to kill time in the office when he's not sleeping or messing around with Kunikida.

SUPER, like, super lucky. First 10 dorm supply and he already got 3 S-Rank Valkyries????

Man makes you question your luck because just 10 roll in any banner and he WILL get all the rate-up character, weapon or even stigmata.

"F2P btw"

That certain player who skips the story just to play the game.

Said that he's gonna read it later but never will. Too lazy to do that, but does read the comic/manhua version when you brought that up.

But he does read Elysian Realm, including the main story.

Is a simp for Elysia and the other Seele aka Veliona.

Got them at SSS with full gear as well.

Man also got Stygian Nymph at SS2 like how-

Sometimes when he's too lazy or bored he'll throw the phone to you or Atsushi to help him with the daily tasks.

HATES, absolutely hates Otto with a fierce passion. Will switch to Chinese VA if he had to or simply unplug the headphones when he doesn't want to changes VA back and forth too much.

Man started you by almost jumped out of the bed when he first heard Otto's voice in Memorial Arena.

Was suprised af hearing Welt's voice too. Will use that as the reason to 'persuade' Kunikida into playing the game.

"Hey Atsushi-kun, help me a bit will you? Just skip the materials event and play enough to reach 600 BP points and you're good to go!"

With that said, he threw the phone to his subordinate and immediately went to lay down on the couch. Poor Atsushi knows nothing and was fumbling with it for a good while until you took Dazai's phone from his hands.

"It's alright, I will do it for him. You can get back to work, sorry for that, Atsushi."

Chuuya:

Is okay with it actually because he does want to relive some stress, and because you told him to cut out on the cigarettes so he needs something that can distract him.

Enjoys the story enough to play the game with you. That is, until he read Void Heavens & Diane's Sojourn.

Was crying at the part when Herrescher of Void told Fu Hua that Kiana's existence is built upon lies and that she only exists to serve as her vessel.

He cries for the whole night in your arms because that reminds him of what he's been through back then. He was lucky enough that he is, actually a real human being. Still, deep down sometimes he wishes he could be a normal person, for if weren't because of Arahabaki inside him, he wouldn't had to suffer like that.

Didn't touch the game for a whole week after he finished Thunders over Nagazora.

Cries even harder after the end of Theater of Domination and the birth of Herrescher of Flamescion.

Immediately whale for Kiana. He whaled so much in just ONE DAY that Hoyoverse had to contact him and ask is he sure that he wants to continue the transaction.

He had all Kiana's battlesuits at SSS and with proper stigmata sets + weapons for them.

Did whale for Himeko as well because why not? Aunt Himeko deserves it ❤

Those doesn't left even a dent in his black card. Will let you whale as well, as long as his princess is happy ❤

"You have quite the collection there, Chuuya. By this rate they're gonna give you a Kiana golden statue as a gift."

"They are?!"

Chuuya widened his eyes in suprise. He didn't expect to get anything back, he just wanted to see Kiana's growth, for he saw a glimpse of himself in the valkyrie. He admires those with a strong will like that, maybe it was a part of his younger self who admires the heroes in those stories which he convinces himself that he will never become someone like them.

"Well, they might be. I heard that a company use to sent a wedding ring as a token of appreciation for their most loyal customer." (*)

Kunikida:

Absolutely not. He "will not waste his time on such things."

Too busy to afford a hobby, no?

But when Dazai shows him Welt's voice?

He was so suprised his jaws could fall off right there on his desk.

Still not going to play because he insists you that his schedule is already packed. But he will listen to you when you ramble about the game though.

Might ask you to lend him your phone so he can read the story at one point.

He bursted out at the last bubble universe in In The Deep where Welt, Herrescher of Reason turns his back against humanity instead of fighting for them like he always did.

He was scared that he might become like that. Sasaki and the Azure King case still haunts him. He was afraid that one day he will be like him when he is fed up and let his ideals consumes him.

Please hug the man. He deserves a vacation and someone who'd be there for him.

Fyodor:

Honestly, he isn't too fond of the idea of playing games and such.

Will try because of curiosity when you show him Otto's voice.

Does read the story properly, and whilst he shows no interests in the valkyries, he find the Overseer amusing.

Is one hell of a lucky man as well.

When he saw Dazai in the Memorial Arena rankings, he'd starts a race to beat the other. He does owns enough valkyries and equipments, but if he felt it isn't enough he'll whale just to beat Dazai. Of course that's the same case for our beloved detective.

Isn't happy after he finishes Kolosten and Thus Spoke Apocalypse. He doesn't understand why does Otto have to go so far for Kallen.

Is amused again when he saw the fake Otto in A Post-Honkai Odyssey though.

Eventually will quit the game after Otto is gone because it no longer amuses him.

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

(*) This actually happens iirc I've read an article about a game company in China sent their most loyal player a ring upon their wedding as a token of appreciation after all the money they spent for the game.

[copiousloverofcopia]

I'm back from my little mental health hiatus and feeling ok. So why not come back with a bang and a brand-new chapter of Holy Mary!

Thank you all for being patient with me while I catch up on everything and I hope you enjoy this new chapter....

Holy Mary Chapter 6: More Questions Than Answers

Sister Mary Catherine was only weeks away from taking her vows when she has a chance encounter with a man. A man she finds out is the Pope of the Satanic church.

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven't started yet? Read from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

Thick black mist swirled around them. Quiet and fluid, it lingered in the air. Its movements slow and intentioned, as it fell upon the three Emeritus sons. The brothers’ eyes held shut, closing off the ties to the mortal realm in which they sat. Unified in their shared conjuration. 

The chamber was dark, lit only by a few candles. Dripping into the lattice left behind from those that came before them. Covering the ground in veins of wax, bleeding across the floor toward them. They had come to the bowels of the Abbey, to the one room made for the old rituals and ceremonies. Ones that even the most jaded of siblings avoided like the plague.  

Behind the closed doors they sat. Surrounded by damp stone walls, covered with moss and grit. The floors were beginning to rot beneath them. Old wood planks rising up from the ground like the undead, broken and worn down over centuries past. It felt unholy inside, hard to breathe. The sensation of phantom hands gripped tightly to windpipes. Primo chanted on, respecting the unseen forces that surely dwell there.  

Terzo couldn’t help but twitch his nose. His nostrils assaulted with the faint scent of smoldering flesh and desecrated earth. The soil beneath them, creeping out from the cracks within the floor. It’s grains holding onto vivid memories. Seasoned over the years with more than a few drops of blood spilt. It was here where they were the closest to the other side—a place to commune with the dead. 

It has been days since Mary developed her wounds. Hands punctured through their centers. Blood spilling from them like wine poured from promiscuous bottles. Bountiful and indiscriminate. Terzo had felt helpless, completely unsure of what to make of it, but Primo knew.

From the moment he saw them, Primo recognized the marks of the Stigmata. Sacred wounds that had befallen Christ. They had only ever been known to afflict the most devout of his followers. Saints and martyrs, those whose life belonged solely to God, now appearing on the body of a young girl. Cast out from her church and sinfully swollen with Terzo’s child. 

Surely the scent of sin on her was too great. How would she have received such an honor from the almighty. Why? Primo asked himself. Over and over he contemplated its meaning. 

He had already spent weeks researching ancient tomes. Pouring over pages of text, whose ink had all but faded into nothingness. Begging at every turn for spirits to lead him. Still nothing had come of it. 

There had already been two, the first Mary’s crown of thorns. Primo was angered that it had managed to escape him. The eldest Emeritus son worried that the wasted time could and would have serious consequences. Now with the appearance of her palms, wounds opening open from thin air—there was no mistaking it. Now the urgency of his cause had become that much more dire. 

Something was happening to the sister, Mary, named after God’s most beloved of mothers. It was Lucifer who planted the seed of this situation, his reasoning still yet to be revealed. Primo sensed it, in the early morning hours before the sun had risen, that all the answers were just on the horizon. If he could only use the strength of his brothers to obtain it. 

“In hac sacratissima loca ad te vocamus. Spiritus qui ante tempus resident, et in fine ejus manebunt. Attende vocationem meam et da mihi responsa pro quibus peto.” Primo called out, spitting onto the earth between him and his brothers. The ground hissing as his saliva seeped down into the dirt. He concentrated hard, desperately hoping to uncover the hidden truths. He took a deep inhale, drawing in deep the smoke surrounding them into his lungs. His closed eyes, opening slowly to reveal blackened sclera. The smoke, now fully disappearing inside him.

Terzo opened his eyes to watch, marveling at his brother’s power. There was an unnerving silence. The hushed sounds of Secondo and Terzo’s breath, just barely audible. “Fratello. What do you see? What do you hear?” Terzo asked him. 

Both him and Secondo wincing as Primo’s grip on their hands tightened. Hands turning red with the pain as he squeezed. Primo let out a gasp, “Can you hear them?” he asked, dropping their hands and his black eyes widening. They could hear it too, whispering and sounds of scratching. Like claws drug along the walls, countless voices speaking to them in a language neither Terzo or Secondo had ever heard before. 

Primo remained muted in his trance. Terzo, feeling his heart pounding hard against his ribs. “What are they saying?” he begged, hoping Primo would be given all the answers. 

“Shhh… Listen.” Secondo hissed, putting his finger to his lips. They watched in shock as Primo began to lift off from his seat. Levitating slowly into the air, eyes still black as night. When he was almost at the ceiling, the candles that surrounded them began to flicker. Blowing out one by one as a wayward breeze circled around them. Coming from nowhere and accompanied only by the intensifying whispers. It was then Terzo could feel breath against his ear. 

She belongs to Lucifer as much as she does you, Emeritus son. Maybe more.  

“Cazzo!” Terzo jolted, when suddenly Primo began to fall. Secondo and Terzo rushed to catch him and help to lower him down to the ground. The smoke, beginning to billow out from inside him as he descended. Candles relighting themselves as the whispering came to an abrupt stop leaving the three brothers in complete silence. 

“Fratello? Fratello?” Terzo pleaded for Primo to respond. He opened his eyes to them, their appearance returned to normal. His white eye glowing as he gazed at them. Primo sat up with their help, his body aching and his mind satisfied with new knowledge. His face had contorted to show he had learned something. A smirk of accomplishment tugging at the corners of his mouth as he began to speak. 

“The child. Your child fratellino…he is special.” Primo began. Secondo furrowed his brows trying to figure things out as Primo explained. “Your seed mixed with HIS essence when the child was conceived. When you agreed to do his will.”

“What are you saying Primo?” Terzo asked, swallowing back the knot in his throat.  Secondo gritted his teeth. His mind flooded with the implications of Primo’s words. Already certain he knew their meaning.

“What are you babbling on about old man? Just get to the point!” Secondo demanded, 

“The child you have fathered Terzo. It belongs to the dark one as much as it does you…and to Mary. The child you have made… he will become the Antichrist.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her dark and lengthy mane had become even thicker in the passing weeks. The richness of blood, lush with nutrients, came shining through all aspects of her appearance. Like a fertile goddess, she glowed from within. Almost angelic to those who saw her. An ironic twist of fate considering her circumstances, Mary had thought as she pulled the brush through her hair.

She held tight to the dark wooden handle, so elegantly hand-carved with floral accents and ornate designs. Its cushion, covered in soft ball-tipped bristles that felt gentle on her tender scalp, still healing from her wounds that surrounded her head. It was Terzo’s mothers. A woman she now wished she could have met, never having really known her own. 

Maybe she could have told her what to do, how to feel—Mary, so lost and confused in her circumstances. For now, she would pounder them as she continued to brush her hair. A pastime she’d found to be one of the very few ways to help her relax. Her mind, constantly swirling within her circumstances and unable to truly let go of the unknowns.

The morning was soon coming to an end, and she had yet to see Terzo. Still sitting at the vanity in the Papal rooms they now shared, she waited for his return. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Mary couldn’t help but hope to see him behind her. Appearing to her and bringing her into his arms. 

Now she only saw her own face looking back at her. The face of a woman she felt she barely knew. Who was this person, pouty lips, tinged red and parted for a promised kiss? Her warm brown eyes, innocent but wanting. A gaze filled with unfulfilled desire. She had noticed more and more that she missed him. That in only a short time, she had come to love the man who fathered her child. 

Terzo too was clearly deeply in love with her–even if she could not love herself. As time passed, they grew closer. The Papa, never allowing her out of his sight for too long. So afraid that something else may happen to her, or their child in his absence. Good enough reasons, as any, for Mary to wonder why he hadn’t yet returned. 

She had felt him leaving the bed hours ago. Awakened before sunrise, just as their child had begun to quicken once more inside her womb. She hadn’t said anything to him, hoping to fall back asleep, but with the baby bouncing around inside her, there would be no return to slumber. 

She sat down the brush on the vanity, feeling the sting from her wounds. Reminding her of what lay beneath the wraps on her hands as she released the handle. What was happening to her? Would it happen again? Was God really willing to take her back into his light?

All questions that lingered in her mind as she rolled back her head. The weight of her heavy breasts, wreaking havoc on her shoulders and her neck tense from the emotional stress she carried. She pulled it side to side, hoping to relieve a bit of tension before she felt the softness of gloved hands along her bare shoulders. She looked up, catching sight of a pair of familiar mismatched eyes. 

“Where were you?” she asked as she turned to face him fully. Terzo smiled, gently kissing the top of her head and kneeling before her on the floor. Mary looked into his eyes, her hands gently caressing her bump beneath her black silk nightgown, as she awaited his answer. 

Terzo wasn’t sure what to say. It had been only moments since he learned the truth. Their child was the most unholy of all creations. The bringer of the end of days, the harbinger of death.

How could he tell the sweet woman before him, radiantly awaiting the birth of their child—that the child was surely of darkness. What would the knowledge of this do to her—what would she do with it? There were too many unknowns. Too many courses that led to an unsavory end for them—he couldn’t bear to say it.

“Honestly, I have been with Primo and Secondo.” Terzo smiled, hoping to leave it at that as he took her hand in his. Pressing his lips gently to the back of her hand. 

“Doing what exactly?” Mary laughed, until she saw the change in Terzo’s face. “Terzo? Tell me what’s wrong?” she begged, bringing her other hand to his jaw. Guiding his eyes back to meet with hers. 

“We are trying to find out what plagues you? Why you are having these afflictions. I can’t lose you.” he lamented. 

“You won’t.” Mary assured him, feeling deep in her bones that he was keeping something from her. She only hoped it was no worse than what she’d been keeping from him. Conversations with things unseen. Hidden motives still kept her feeling uneasy. Mary realized she must have made a face of her own because Terzo seemed more worried than before. 

“Mary is there something you aren’t telling me?” he asked her, ashamed to assume she was holding back something, knowing he wasn’t being honest with her. 

“I just missed you is all.” she smiled, “the baby woke me up this morning and you weren't here and well…I get nervous when you aren’t around. Everything here is so strange. My whole world has been flipped upside down. My life, uprooted for this little thing” she continued glancing down at her belly, “...and I just well…never mind me it's probably just hormones.”

“I would never leave you amore, not truly. I will do everything in my power to keep you both safe.” Terzo cooed, his lips pecking gently to hers. As they parted, their eyes met. Heavy and full of affection. The taste of her mouth, too much for Terzo to resist, as he brought his mouth back to hers.

Conquering her with his kiss, her body becoming languid with his touch. He rose up from the floor, picking her up off the small stool from which she sat, bringing her to lie on their shared bed. Setting her down with care. Treating her like she was made of glass, beautiful and fragile.

“You won’t break me Terzo.” Mary told him. Her breathing labored and her heart pounding loudly in her ears with anticipation as she felt him drag his lips along the line of her neck. He quickly traveled to her collarbone, his hand caressing her breast as he enjoyed her scent and the softness of her skin against his lips and palm. 

“I must remind myself to be careful with you. I can be quite the beast.” he smiled against her skin. Hands making quick work of gathering up her nighty. The fabric gripped tight in Terzo’s hand, as the other reached below the neckline to touch her bare breast. Mary moaned when his fingertips grazed her nipple. Terzo hovering over her as his fingers tried to find their way blindly beneath the fabric of her panties. 

So easily now, she gave into him—wanting him as much as he wanted her. It was moments like this she forgot about God. Forgot about the voice that called to her. No one spewing hatred for her lover, for her sins, for the child she carried inside her. Only love between them now—an obtainable salvation.

Maybe she was going crazy before. A surge of hormones and stress, making her hear things, but that didn’t explain the wounds. For now she didn’t care, feeling the rush as Terzo’s fingers met with her aching, wet flesh. “Terzo…” she whispered in her ragged breath, “make love to me.”

“Non c'è nient'altro che preferirei fare.” Terzo promised, pulling her breast from beneath her gown and sucking her nipple into his mouth. Working his fingers diligently as her hips rolled to meet the motions of his hand. Her legs parted wider for him. Mary licking her lips and breathing hard as he pressed deeply into the upper walls of her core. His fingers removed only a moment to gather up her slick. Pressing gently in circles on her clit a moment before returning to the sanctuary of her inner heat. 

“I want to taste you amore.” Terzo hummed, Mary’s nipple falling from his lips as he trailed kisses down her chest and over her swollen belly. 

“Mmm…” She writhed beneath him. Mary’s hand gripped tight to her own breast as Terzo’s handsome face disappeared below the roundness of her pregnant belly. She felt him grab her thighs, spreading them wider as his tongue gently slipped through her swollen lips. The tip, dancing along her folds with ease as he moaned against her. The vibrations were torturous, traveling to the bundle of nerves pulsing in her clit.

He worked her over, his tongue pressing taut against her and slurping gently. Two fingers carefully pumping in and out as he lapped at her. He stopped a moment to catch his breath, lightheaded in his ruthless endeavor to make her see stars. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. 

“Giuro con tutto ciò che sono che non c'è niente di più dolce del sapore della tua fica contro la mia lingua.” he confessed, breathing heavy and mouth dripping wet. Mary’s Italian was novice at best, but from the few words she could make out, she knew what he was trying to say. His words heated her up and sent a flush of red over her face and chest. He returned to his ministrations. Eager to make his lover cum. 

“Oh Terzo, it feels so good don’t stop.” she mewled as she gripped tight to his hair. Blood, beginning to seep out from her bandages as she lost herself in pleasure. Terzo buckled down, using the width of his tongue to move through her lips, tip flicking up at her clit. Sucking it gently as Mary began to release. Her body quivering as he drove her over the edge. Clit encased blissfully against his lips and tongue with his fingers buried deep inside her. 

Terzo was absolutely ravenous, working her over until she came for him twice over before he’d let her rest. Climbing back onto the bed as he pulled her into his lap. Mary was dizzy, the pooling of blood between her legs making her hazy in their shared lust. Terzo quickly brought himself inside her, lowering her down, taking her fully onto his cock. 

“Ah! Mia dolcezza, è davvero tutto essere tra le tue braccia.” Terzo moaned, feeling her fluttering inside. Her body, forming to him just as it always had. The two of them, fitting together as if they were made to do so. He held her close against him, only her belly keeping them from being closer as he took her. 

Mary began to feel more disoriented. Waves of dizziness befalling her as Terzo continued to thrust up inside her. She held tightly to his shoulders as he panted in her ear. Suddenly visions of bodies piled up on top of each other flashed before her. All of them writhing in agony and screaming while covered in blood and stacked miles high.  

She began to cry, her body unable to hold back the surge of emotion. Fueled by the horror of her vision and the hormones. The guilt and shame, rearing its ugly head as she came once more.

You asked for my forgiveness and yet you still so willingly…and gleefully commit yourself to sin. If I didn’t know better Mary…it would seem you were too far lost within Satan’s grasp.

The voice remanded her, forcing her back to reality, reminding her of her transgressions. Mary struggled to digest the words as she shifted against the deep violet sheets. Sweat, sticking her to them as she struggled against them wanting to crawl out of her own skin. Still coming down from the highs of her orgasm, her insides still pulsing with pleasure. Just as fast as it came, it went. 

Had her own shame and guilt manifested itself into madness? Was the vision from God? Or the devil? Terzo collapsed beside her. Pulling her close to him and holding her lovingly in his arms, seemingly unaware anything was amiss. Mary’s body continued to shiver, tears still rolling down her cheeks. 

“Are you alright?” Terzo asked her, holding her tight against him. 

“Just hormones.” She dismissed his concerns, feeling terror for what she had seen and for what may yet come. Was she truly shunned from the light of God’s love? Had she damned all mankind along with her? Mary’s head began pounding, her thoughts racing inside her mind when Terzo noticed her bandages were saturated with blood. 

“Amore, let's get you fixed back up, si?” he suggested, gently holding her hand as he helped her from the bed. Mary only nodding in response. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Secondo flew into his chambers. Slamming the door behind him before leaning against it. He could feel the fire burning inside him, the heat of frustration, and the bitterness of jealousy coursing through his veins. He was angry—angrier than he’d ever felt before. 

It wasn’t enough that his power was not as developed or refined as Primo’s. Or that his charisma paled in comparison to his younger brother’s. He was used to being overlooked. The sting of it this time, hitting hard when rejection came by way of Lucifer himself. His vexation, reaching its new heights knowing that he was once again outshined by Terzo. Given an honor the highest any follower of Satan would ever hope to receive. 

Terzo was the chosen one—chosen to father the vessel for the Antichrist. Secondo couldn’t help but clench his jaw tight. His teeth on the verge of cracking with each second, he grew more and more livid. Wondering what would come of things should they be revealed to Mary. Mary the mother of his brother’s child. Would his lover keep him within her good graces and remain loyal knowing that he had done to her. Damned her to eternity of Hellfire, and along with her all of humanity.

Notes:

In hac sacratissima loca ad te vocamus. Spiritus qui ante tempus resident, et in fine ejus manebunt. Attende vocationem meam et da mihi responsa pro quibus peto.- In this most sacred of places we call to you. Spirits that reside before time and will remain at its end. Heed my call and give me the answers for which I seek. 

Cazzo- fuck

Non c'è nient'altro che preferirei fare.- There is nothing more I would rather do. 

Giuro con tutto ciò che sono che non c'è niente di più dolce del sapore della tua fica contro la mia lingua.- I swear with everything that I am that there is nothing sweeter than the taste of your cunt against my tongue. 

Mia dolcezza, è davvero tutto essere tra le tue braccia.- my sweet, it is truly everything to be in your arms.

[lang-rangler-enjoyer]

Favorite Color Schemes/Designs you prefer for the JoJo asks!

let's pretend i didn't start writing this a week ago and then forgot about it :,)

minor TSKR spoilers if anyone cares

also talking about a few SBR characters

Design: Scolippi! I love the subtle reigious imagery with his partial thorn crown and stigmata. I'm 50/50 on his manga vs anime colours, the manga Scolippi is more colourful, but I love the anime version's black shirt. If you're gonna have a Jesus allegory in your anime, he deserves to be a little goth. as a treat.

Design: I really vibe with this minor TSKR antagonist. I like the spikes

Design: D an G's design gave me such bad whiplash the first time I saw it, I had to stop reading and just. LOOK AT HIM. for a bit. I love it so much. a toga and a helmet from the 1800s, who does that? From a design perspective it's so fucking audacious. That toga that's made of what looks like fur and at least 2 kinds of fabric, also paired with a modern-looking belt?? (not to mention the toga's like 2cm away from showing dick and we SEE in the anime that he's not wearing anything under there) The heels? The wristbands? THE HELMET HOLY FUCKING SHIT THE HELMET. if i see one more person call it a "gladiator helmet" i am going to combust. IT HAS A PICKELHAUBE SPIKE. THE PICKELHAUBE WAS INVENTED IN PRUSSIA IN THE 1840s. HOWEVER the visor is too big or straight (depending on the type of pickelhaube you're comparing it too) and the sides of the helmet do not look like a pickelhaube and do not have a direct match to any specific roman/greek helmets. So basically this is a custom designed pickelhaube. very cool if you're a history enthusiast/loser like me. IMO its kind of an IMPROVED pickelhaube, since the sides offer more protection than the standard pickelhaube, as shown below.

Colours: he blu :)

Colours: I really hope when they animate SBR they colour Oyecomova's makeup "correctly". The colour scheme the coloured manga guys went with was really fun, but I just really like the extra-ness of the flag makeup being multiple colours

ooh also honorable mentions to this Hot Pants colour scheme I found on Twitter :0 I never had a *problem* with pink Hot Pants but this slaps

[neapologist873]

Hi hi. This will be less of a theory and more of important observations and comparisons between the characters of D.Gray-man and the stories it's directly inspired by and taking inspiration and ideas from--those being "The Portrait of Dorian Gray"and the Bible (specifically the New Testament).

Here is a brief rundown of Dorian Gray's plot before I get into the details:

"Basil Hallward is a renowned painter who happened to meet the young lord Dorian Gray at an event. Normally, Basil is a very particular and aloof person, finding others boring or not worth his time. But something about Dorian...the very first time he lays eyes on him he is captivated. Yet he says that, more than being interested, he could feel a budding sense of fear. He describes the young man as being exquisitely beautiful, like someone you'd only find in myths and folklore. He I afraid of painting Dorian, since paintings can hold and reveal the painter's feelings and the book describes him as worshipping Dorian. He admits to all of this to his friend Lord Henry Wotton--a cynical person who takes delight in watching people fall into depravity as a believer in a "New Age of Hedonism". Lord Henry laughs off Basil's concerns and instead insists on meeting Dorian, much to Basil's dismay. He knows that the beauty and innocence he finds inspiring will be gone if the two were to meet, yet he arranges it all the same. From there forth, a painting of Dorian is made, one that Dorian grows jealous of after Henry saying nobody will love Dorian after all his youth and innocence is gone. The painting then takes on unusual properties, growing ugly to reflect Dorian's soul as he begins to blackmail and kill while still remaining young and beautiful on the outside. The painting becomes the true nature of his soul."

Right away, it is clear that all of the Noah share similarities to Dorian. Noahs have a peculiar relationship with reflections--when Nea was still slumbering, he could only appear in reflections. The piano room in the Ark is made solely of glass and Allen first saw him in the window panes and mirror in the bathroom at the Order. Then there is this scene above. The broken glass shards show Joyd, who starts to appear a lot more after this. While Tykki is no saint, he is described as being the most human-like of the Noahs and he has a special separation between himself, the host, and his Noah soul (this was even noted by Wisely). After Allen's failed exorcism attempt, Tykki's throat was branded with stigmata scars that resemble Kanda's and Lenalee's as crystal type users. This detail will become extremely important on this blog.

And there is also the scene with Adam and Mana, right after Nea's betrayal and death. This scene plays with the reflections a lot and seems to suggest that Mana was the true nature or soul of the body, until he isn't anymore.

So clearly Nea and Mana take after Dorian the most, since they have a more clear descent into "evil". It is Mana who is like the "portrait of a sorrow", though, along with Nea and even Tykki who bare the same face. And it is Adam--the Noah inside of them who takes on the role of the Earl--who is the ugly. Just as Dorian became ugly like the portrait in the end, Adam represents this with his entire being and even with his new face after destroying Mana's that looks just like Nea's.

Moving on, I think Lord Henry can also be used to represent the Noahs themselves, not their hosts. To be more precise though, I think Joyd is clearly based on him, which makes sense as he's the Noah of Hedonism. Lord Henry is like the devil on the shoulder and is the catalyst for everything, and Joyd definitely seems to have direct ties to Nea and whatever happened on that day 30 years ago. Lord Henry acted like he was Dorian's friend even though he merely just wanted to see what would happen if he were to be corrupted. This is similar to how Cross remarked that the Noah tricked Mana by acting like family, even though they really just wanted the Earl back. He seemed to start listening to them more than Nea, though, making Nea a bit similar to Basil who was also killed by Dorian. For both Dorian and Mana, it was hard to know who was truly on their side, so it was just easier to turn on those that actually had their best wishes at heart (this is indicated around chapter 187 I think? In which the Earl starts to recall memories of Nea and Wisely remarks how Tykki looks just like him). 

Speaking of the Campbells, Allen's name comes from the character Alan Campbell in Dorian Gray, who was a scientist in the novel. It seems like the Allen of the past in DGM is someone of this profession as well, and Ven and I are convinced that he was the apprentice Bookman before Lavi, especially with his lines about the Helix of Life. Though that is a theory for another time and I or Ven will make a separate post diving into that. But the important takeaway of this is that Alan dies at his own hand due to Dorian's blackmailing of him and because of guilt he feels at helping him dispose of Basil's body. This is similar to how past Allen takes on Nea's memories, though it is uncertain what became of him. The two of us have many, many theories though, so prepare for that.

I'm thinking that Sybil, Dorian's ex-fiancee who was his first victim could also be Katerina, as she is meant to be Eve, the Earl Adam, and Mana and Nea Cain and Abel. Sybil sacrificed a lot for Dorian, and that was her demise. It was her pure love that killed her. And flashbacks seem to imply that the Earl and Katerina were in love, but something about that led to the Adam she knew disappearing, leaving behind Mana and Nea. However, I'm not too confident in saying that Katerina is the same as Sybil. But perhaps I'll dabble in this thought more in the future.

Since I want to keep this relatively short, consider this the first part of potentially many character analyses. I'll also be coming back to this post a lot when I finally collect all of my thoughts to create a separate post on my personal thoughts on Tykki and Joyd's role in the story.

[bailey-reaper]

How about Barok's SO taking care of his scars? I imagine after so many murder attempts his body is quite scarred and that has to hurt from time to time

Stigmata

Notes: I think you’re right, anon. Barok’s lived a life of assassination attempts and there’s no way he’d have escaped all of them unscathed -- as his face proves, but he probably has more marks than that...

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: blood mention; reference to wounds; physical harm; violence reference

"B..Barok?!” they stood, wide-eyed looking at him as he stretched up to reach something from atop one of the dressers in their bedroom, “Are you alright?”

“Mmm?” he glanced over, confused by the obvious distress on their face, “What is it? What’s wrong, love?” he followed the direction they were pointing in to a growing patch of red that was spreading over his poet shirt like a drop of ink across paper. He tsked, “... So that one hasn’t closed up still...”

“That one?” they came closer to inspect the growing patch of red, “What happened?”

“... A few weeks ago I was embroiled in another assassination attempt and I carelessly failed to take out the thug armed with a crossbow first. I ended up taking a bolt to the torso, but I’ve had it checked over and all is fine with it. The physician did say that it might take some time to heal, given its positioning...”

“Why on earth didn’t you tell me?! The last thing I’d have you doing is reaching up and straining it if I’d known!” they gently slapped his arm in admonishment.

Barok smiled fondly and kissed their forehead, “It’s not the first time I’ve been nicked, love, and it won’t be the last... I’m so used to the attacks now that they feel relatively unremarkable...”

“Well they AREN’T unremarkable,” came the firm correction from his beloved as they shooed him to the bed, “Let me have a look at it! This instant!”

The demand seemed to fluster him as he was firmly directed to the bed, “... Um...” a blush was playing on his cheeks, because this would be the first time they’d seen him without a top on; it was a small thing, admittedly, but it was something he saw as intimate, “... Love, are you sure?”

“YES!” they didn’t quite seem to appreciate the thing that was on his mind.

“....” he chuckled softly, they were so cute when they were focused upon a task and paid no heed to things like decorum or pleasantries. It clearly came from a place of deep concern, and that in itself felt precious to him. They loved him; they worried for him; they wanted to check that he was okay... “Very well...” he unbuttoned the bloodstained shirt and set it aside on a chair.

Sure enough, there was an angry wound on his side; small, but in a place where any kind of bending down or stretching up would aggravate it. The wound was weeping blood and the surrounding pallid skin was flushed from inflammation, “... Does it hurt?” they asked.

“... No more than usual,” he replied, “It’s more of an inconvenience than anything debilitating...”

“I’ll get some bandages!” they hurried off to get the necessary supplies.

While they were gone, Barok looked in the mirror. It was something he did rarely, on account of finding his body rather unsightly due to the tapestry of violence and survival that was painted across it in marks of varying lengths and widths. It was testament to the fact his enemies had not succeeded, but it was also a record of their undying hatred.

“Okay!” they hurried in with a flannel, bandages and a bottle of alcohol, “Let me clean it,” he moved over to the bed and laid down on his side so they could sit beside him and use the flannel to wipe away the blood that had started to well up. After drying it, they applied a little alcohol and winced apologetically when he hissed from the burn, “... S... sorry...” he grunted, as if to suggest it was fine. Finally, they applied bandages to it, “... There... hopefully that should help it to heal a little better.”

“..... Thank you, my beloved...” it felt strange to have someone tend to him like this. No one had bothered for quite some time, save for medical professionals when his wounds were so significant that he needed actual treatment. He was used to applying his own tourniquets and salves. It was second nature to him these days; so to have someone else doing it was both a novelty and a luxury.

Suddenly he noticed that they were blushing; and he knew why, “Hmmm?” he smirked, “What is it? You seem to have lost all that fury and fire you had a moment ago...”

“O...Oh.. um!” their rose-tinted face was such a delight, “... No.. I just... um... I am so sorry for being so... forceful and .. making you undress like that.”

Barok laughed, “... You need not apologise my dear, not after you’ve repaid me with such an adorable reaction,” he sat up and kissed their flushed cheeks, “Still... this isn’t quite how I expected you to see me in a state of undress. I’ll put a shirt on now, if I’m permitted...?”

“... Y..Yes,” they uttered while nodding, “Of course you may!”

“Thank you,” he went to don a new, unbloodied poet shirt.

[asdfghjklmpff]

Thank you kindly for the tag @lelephantsnail <3 however you’re about to realise i'm not much of an interesting person. I'm literally just going on autopilot between two jobs 6 days a week and numbing myself with music, sorry in advance.

NAME: idk

SIGN: virgo

HEIGHT: 1,7m

TIME: past 1:30pm

BIRTHDAY: sept 6th

FAVORITE ARTIST/BAND: a FUCKTON, top of the top would be (roughly sorted by genres/languages):

-Five Fingers Death Punch, Disturbed, Korn, Smash Into Pieces, Bad Omens, Blind Channel, Motionless in White, From Ashes to New, Like a Storm, BMTH, BFMV;

-Rammstein, Hamatom;

-Starset, The Score, Unlike Pluto, Missio, Grandson, Adam Jensen;

-Nocturnal Bloodlust, the Gazette, Miyavi, Girugamesh, Back-on, Man With a Mission, lynch., D’espairsRay;

-Dxrk, Kodo;

-Heilung;

-Bobby, Bloo, punchnello, Mushvenom, Justhis, Kid Milli, Woodz, Yongguk, Epik High, Corbyn, ph1, Stray Kids, Monsta X, A.C.E, P1Harmony, OnlyOneOf, CIX;

LAST MOVIE: the Old Guard (for like the 5th time, very much looking forward to the sequel);

LAST SHOW: last ep of My Secret Love yesterday, but binged one would be the Sandman (bc i saw so many gifsets on here, never heard of it before, very much loved it);

WHEN I CREATED THIS BLOG: i had to check, august 2012 apparently, tho i was inactive for awhile. oh god the first post is dated august 31st, that means it's going to be a decade in a little over a week;

WHAT I POST: text posts,  movies/tv shows i watched, nature and people? idk, pictures i find ~aesthetically pleasing~;

OTHER BLOGS: nope;

DO I GET ASKS: nope;

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 6/7 (my brian wakes me up at 4:45 every goddamn day no matter week or weekend) (brian is the pet name of my brain, no spelling errors there);

WHAT I'M WEARING: black tshirt with the Frankenstein on it and black boxers;

DREAM JOB: none, as i said i'm on autopilot waiting for death;

DREAM TRIP: as above;

FAVOURITE SONGS (and quotes from them, just for some spice):

no quotes from me sorry, i shall do fav songs of the artists i mentioned in case anyones interested. a disclamer: i dont care about the lyrics just the vibe, also most of the time i couldn't choose just one song:

-Five Fingers Death Punch - Afterlife, Cold, The Way of the Fist, Cradle to the Grave, Jekyl and Hyde, Will the Sun Ever Rise, A Little Bit Off, Judgment Day; Disturbed - Meaning of life, Stupify, Perfect Insanity, Warrior, The Animal, Run, Legion of Monsters; Korn - The Darkness is Revealing, Freak on a Leash, Twisted Transistor, Seen it All, Somebody Someone, Let the Guilt Go, Right Now, Spike in my Veins; Smash Into Pieces - Broken Parts, Higher, The Game; Bad Omens - Dethrone, Blood, Mercy, Feral, Malice, Hedonist, Artificial Suicide; Blind Channel - Gun, Fever, Timebomb, Snake, Unforgiving, Autopsy, Out of Town; Motionless in White - Slaughterhouse, Legacy; Like a Storm - Death Defying, Black Rain Hurricane, Chaos; BMTH - Blasphemy, Hospital For Souls, And the Snakes Start to Sing, ?; BFMV - Knives;

-Rammstein - Enger, Tier, Spiel mit Mir, Mein Herz Brennt, Los, Stein um Stein, Feur und Wasser, Asche zu Asche, Puppe; Hamatom - Kids, Bilder im Kopf, Wir sind Gott, Teufelsweib, Dagegen;

-Starset - Carnivore, Monster; The Score - Legend, The Fear, The Heat; Unlike Pluto - Everything Black, Riptide, Oh Raven, Revenge and a little bit more, Let it Bleed, No Rainbows in the Desert; Missio - Black Roses; Grandson - Oh No!!!, Stigmata, Fallin, Maria, Identity, Despicable; Adam Jensen - Im a sucker for a liar in a red dress, Mercy;

-Nocturnal Bloodlust - Thank You, hPa, Only Human; the Gazette - Coda, Headache man, 13 stairs, Babylon’s Taboo; Miyavi - Horizon, Justice, The Others, Steal the Sun, Stars, Butterfly, Dumb; Girugamesh - Break Down, Chimera, Resolution, Suiren, Asking Why, Ishtar, Barricade, Engrave; Back-on - Clown, Rebirth, Tokyo Be-Bop, Kill The Beat; Man With a Mission - Broken People, Dead end in Tokyo; lynch. - creature, devil, oblivion; D’espairsRay - Garnet, Reddish, Death Point;

-Dxrk - Rave, Heaven, Dead, Kodo - O-daiko;

-Danheim - Domadagr, Grima, Faldne;

-Bobby - Holup, Devil, U mad; Mushvenom & Justhis - Take it; Kid Milli - Bittersweet; Woodz -  Kiss of Fire, Lullaby; Yongguk - Xie Xie, Up, Hikikomori; Epik High - Acceptance Speach, End of the World, Here Come the Regrets, Bleed; Corbyn - Criminal, Dante’s Valley, Odsee; pH1 - Okay, Morago, Aint no MF; Stray Kids - Victory Song, Boxer, NS, Easy, Any, Muddy Water; Monsta X - Hero, Beastmode, Wildfire; A.C.E - Golden Goose, Atlantis, Jindo Arirang; P1Harmony - Siren, Breakthrough, End it, Mirror Mirror; OnlyOneOf - dora maar, sage, gaslighting; CIX - Jungle, Black Out.

Well that just took me 2h, that was fun. If it's alright i'd love for @nope-astrology-nope to do it, but if not no worries! <3 If anyone else would like to as well go for it!

Have a lovely day/night <3

[earthfire-75]

Chapter Two, Part Two: That’s the Way (Sleepwalking)

“What did he-“

“Can’t you see that I’m not in the mood right now?!” I snapped. “He acted like a prick! What more do you need me to say?!”

She said nothing, Rogina decided to stand up and leave. This anger that I was feeling wasn’t just towards Cole, but to myself as well. Even if he kept his big mouth shut, seeing Robert’s face before he walked out onstage made me feel guilty. This ire that I had towards myself for potentially hurting him, especially after receiving a kiss from Rogina. My frustration was geared towards her as well for making me feel the way that I did. I guzzled down the remainder of my drink and headed back to the sideline. I kept my mind on my work as I took care of handling the instruments. Everyone did their part in making the rest of the show an explosive one. The lights went dim as Alice Cooper and The Who joined Led Zeppelin to take a bow. The crowd went wild as the sea waved their lighters. The first night was officially over the moment they returned backstage.

Congratulations were in order as they all talked amongst themselves about a fantastic first show. However the exhaustion had settled in and so it was time for them to return to the bus. The road crew got to work as the musicians were escorted out by security. I looked over to the two golden hair singers, but their backs were turned as they followed their bodyguards. I wanted to say something, yet my feet walked in the opposite direction. As I took to the stage, I saw the throngs of fans dissipate through the stadium doors,meanwhile there were others that attempted to make their way backstage. The first item that I grabbed was a tambourine, Robert’s tambourine. I held it for a moment, rubbing the stretched out skin of the percussion instrument. I quickly placed it into its container and went about the business of packing up.

With the equipment packed up and put into their proper places on the tour buses, the road crew were taken to the hotel where we would be staying. Between the bands and the roadies, the entire top floor was full. Each member of the bands got their own rooms along with G and Cole. The roadies, however, got stuck sharing rooms. At least we didn’t all have to cram ourselves into one room. A few of the roadies that didn’t seem to have any issues with me offered to let me stay with them as we ordered a late dinner and even offered me the bed. I insisted on taking the couch instead, since I didn’t pay for the room.

As we waited for the food to arrive a couple of roll-away beds were brought up and made for a few of the guys as well as an extra set of bedsheets for me. The food arrived shortly after and we ate and talked about the job. We ate as we watched a bit of TV, fighting over what show to watch like little kids and it did help to lift my mood. As we got ready for bed, I noticed a connecting door to the next room over. I shrugged to myself, figuring it probably led to Cole’s room so he could wake us in the morning a bit easier. My mind was racing as I arranged the bed sheets. Seems like so much had occurred in such a short amount of time. I was tired and ready to allow sleep to hold me in its welcoming arms. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder what would be in store for tomorrow.

I was suddenly awakened by the sound of the door being opened up and I could see Robert’s figure quietly stepping in. I turned to my side and pretended to be asleep as his feet shuffled across the carpet. I could hear him quietly grunting as he shifted onto his knees, I kept perfectly still as I steadied my breathing.

“Anjelika...” he whispered. “Anjelika, are you awake?”

Even as he spoke in such a soft tone, there was a feeling of anguish in his voice, “Anjelika, I… I um… I heard about what happened with Cole. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what that man’s problem is.”

Silence from my end, a part of me wanted to turn around and tell him to go back to his room, but I continued to listen.

“Just so you know, I think you did a great job on your first day… we all think that. Rogina feels the same way.” He sniffled, “She um… seems to think highly of you… and so do I. Well, I’ll let you rest darlin’. See you in the morning.”

Robert stood up and made his way back to his room, I heard another sniffle from him again, and then a heavy sigh before the connected door was gently shut. The guilt was flooding in the pit of my stomach as I grasped onto the pillow. I shut my eyes and tried my best to fall back asleep, yet I heard something coming from the other side of the door. Robert’s breath had become shaken as a faint and muffled sob could be heard. I wanted to reach out so that I could knock on the door and hold him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it; even as the voice in my head ordering me to do so. The guilt was spreading throughout my body as a lump formed in my throat. I buried my face into the pillow and let out a quiet cry into the fabric. Aside from the guilt, I wish that I wasn’t feeling the other emotion that was there.

…”You will hold the fate of three hearts in your hands”…

I woke up with a start, the woman’s voice and words haunting me in my sleep. Looking over at the clock and seeing it was five in the morning, I decided not to bother going back to sleep, but instead gathered my things and headed to the bathroom for a hot shower and change of clothes. I then headed downstairs, hoping that the continental breakfast would be ready. Thankfully,it was and I got myself something to eat and a large coffee. I would need the extra caffeine today due to the lack of sleep last night.

As I sat down and began to eat the breakfast sandwich I made from the English muffin, sausage patty and cheese, Jimmy sat down across from me. “I’d like to apologize for Cole’s behavior yesterday.”

I set down my food and looked at him. “It seems everyone is apologizing for Cole’s behavior, except for Cole. But why do I get the feeling that’s not what you really want to talk to me about?”

“Straight to the point. Very well. I think there are things you aren’t telling us. I don’t mean little white lies or normal things people simply don’t think to mention. You aren’t from here, are you? I mean, from this point in time.”

I blew out a long breath, rubbing my hands down my face. “I’m gonna need something stronger than coffee for this conversation.” I muttered, taking a drink of said coffee. “You’re right, there are things I’m not telling you. Perhaps the time has come far sooner than Bonzo and I thought, but I’m not going to go into it here when other people could come in at any point and overhear.”

“Right.” Jimmy unfolded himself from his chair and grabbed himself some coffee and a sweet roll. “We can take this conversation up to my room.”

I shook my head but picked up my plate and coffee, following him back upstairs and to his room. Inside, we sat on the couch, one at each end and set our food down on the coffee table. Jimmy poured a shot of Jack into each of our coffee’s with a little knowing smile and handed me a stirrer. I took it and mixed the Jack into my coffee before taking a sip. “For all the good it will do.”

“What does that mean?” He asked.

“I’ll get to that eventually. One thing at a time, no pun intended.” Jimmy huffed out a laugh and I continued. “You were right that I’m not from this point in time, but it’s far more complicated than that. Are you familiar with the Multiverse Theory?”

“The theory that multiple, if not infinite, words exist next to each other?” Jimmy asked excitedly. “I might have heard of it…”

“Right,” I laughed.”Well, it isn’t just a theory in reality. Very few people know that, Hell, I didn’t until a few years ago. Something happened to me that I can’t explain because I still don’t understand it. But once in a while I find myself in situations like this, in a different universe. But being thrown into the past as well, is a new one.”

“I see. And this isn’t something you can control, I take it?”

No, it isn’t or I would have gone back to my own universe a long time ago and stayed there. I keep…never mind, that part isn’t important. I’m just trying to survive here until I jump again, for lack of a better term.”

“I’m sorry, Anjelika. I-“

“I’m not quite done, Mr. Page. There’s one more thing you should know. I’m like Bonzo.”

“Like Bonzo?”

“Yes. I’m a Nightbane.”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide, a combination of fear and fascination behind them. “Do…do you look like him too? In your other form, I mean.”

“I haven’t seen his Morphus, but it’s unlikely we’re even similar. Every Nightbane’s form is different. Did he not explain any of this to you?”

“Somewhat I guess. I suppose I just wanted it confirmed by another. Bonzo is the only one that we’ve ever seen or heard of. His…what did you call it? Morphus form? It looks like a demonic bear with a stigmata, I think he called it, razor sharp bits of glass sticking up out of his spine.” Jimmy was staring into his cup as he spoke, a shiver running down his spine before he took a large drink. “I called it fascinating at the time, and while true, it was also terrifying.”

“It’s been said that our Morphus forms are something we dream or how we see ourselves in a dream state. It’s why it’s called Morphus. On the flip side of that, our human forms are referred to as facades. A fake, if pleasant, cover to hide the monster underneath. My own Morphus is rare as it isn’t obviously monstrous, but I have a stigmata of my own. There’s an open wound over my heart that constantly bleeds.”

The last part seems to bring Jimmy back from his thoughts. But there was a loud knock at the door before he could respond. Peter’s voice booming through the door; it was time to start getting ready to leave. I swore under my breath and grabbed my food and coffee. Jimmy opened the door for me so I could get to the room I stayed in and get my things while I finished my breakfast. After scarfing down my food and grabbing my belongings, Jimmy and I hurried to the elevator. However a voice from the hall asked us to hold it. I placed my hand out and whose face should happen to be there but Rogina’s. She momentarily took a step back to take a quick breath before entering, her eyes looking away from mine when she mumbled a thank you. She stood on the opposite side with a bag clutched tightly in her hand. Seems like the weight of the elevator felt heavier as it went down.

Jimmy broke the silence, “Morning Rog.”

“Morning Jimmy.”

“Did you have a good rest, love?”

She shrugged, “Yeah, more or less… What about you?”

“I slept alright,” he answered.

Things became quiet once more, perhaps we were just a little tired. Rogina quietly sighed and kept her eyes on the metallic doors before her. The final ding indicated that we had arrived at the lobby floor, Rogina placed her hand on the door and allowed for Jimmy and myself to walk out. A part of me wanted to pull her aside and apologize to her. To let her know that what I had said last night was stupid and that I should have never acted that way. Yet we continued to walk towards the large group of musicians and crew members. Robert was all smiles as he was engaging in conversation with Cooper, Moon, and Townshend.

“Well someone is certainly in a merrier mood today,” Jimmy noted.

Robert replied, “How could I not be? After all, everything seems to be going so well in the tour so far-”

Pete interjected, “Careful there Robert, you don’t want to jinx this. The first leg hasn’t even finished.”

Moon rolled his eyes, “Always expectin’ the worst aren’t you, Pete? Come on, ‘ave a little fun! Loosen up will ya?”

“Keith if you couldn’t already tell, this is a very big tour for all three of us” the lanky guitarist noted matter of factly. “Besides, anything could go wrong and it will.”

Alice took a sip of his coffee and responded, “Well budget wise, you should probably stop wrecking your guitars. Those things aren’t exactly cheap.”

“It’s part of rock and roll. It’s about making a statement! You out of anyone here should know that, what with your cryptic makeup!” Pete shouted.

Rogina placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “Pete, it’s too early right now for you to get on your soapbox.”

Robert chuckled, “Yeah, you should probably save it for tonight’s show anyway, Big Bird.”

All eyes were on Robert as Moon broke out in laughter. Next thing he knew, Rogina had the singer in a headlock, giving him a good noogie on the top of his golden curls. The men further encouraged her, Keith exclaiming to give him a purple nurple.

Rogina smirked, “No one insults Pete, except me and Keith. Got that golden boy?”

“Suffocate him!” Keith yelled.

Robert tried to pry himself free, “How are you this strong?”

“Well unlike you, my exercise involves more than just fucking groupies,” she happily explained.

Keith bent his knees as he looked at him, “You should consider this an honour. Loads of fans would love to be in your place.”

Pete raised a brow as he crouched down to Keith, “Course when you did it, you lost a tooth. Made you look like a proper vagabond, it did.”

Rogina finally released him when she saw Peter coming over. She moved him away as she tugged out the wrinkles in her shirt, giving the mountain of a man a sweet grin and acting as if nothing happened. Peter grunted as he rolled his eyes. Seeing that unfold brought a smile to my face. There they were, not just musicians, a group of friends enjoying each other’s company. Finding ways of making each other laugh, even at another person’s expense. They looked ridiculous and their little scene did cause a fair amount of the guests and staff to notice,as if Keith’s vocals weren’t already amplifying the situation.

Robert fixed up his locks and gave her a little smirk, “I will say this much, I do love the feeling of you forgoing a bra.”

Nothing was said, all that we heard was Rogina cracking her knuckles with a harsh smile across her lips. Robert’s face went pale as his lopsided smirk tightened up and he backed away slowly. Alice stood between them and told them to break it off, reminding them that it was time to kiss and make up. And just in time too now that Peter announced that it was time to get on the bus. Robert stood behind his manager like a frightened child, Rogina stuck her tongue out as she walked past him.

As I was about to board the roadie bus, Jimmy called me over, inviting me to ride on their bus. I wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but he convinced me. “I spoke with Bonzo a bit, he thinks it’s time to tell the band and G.”

I sighed but nodded. “I want to tell Rogina too. I owe her an apology anyway.”

“Alright, I’ll go get her.”

I swallowed my nervousness and climbed up onto the bus and immediately came face to face with Bonzo, who gave me a comforting hug before taking my bag and setting it with the others. I took a seat on an empty couch and waited for Jimmy to come back with Rogina. In the meantime, another roadie sat down next to me and introduced himself.

“Hi, I’m Magnet. Well, that’s what everybody calls me anyway. We met yesterday, but I didn’t think I introduced myself. You’re Anjelika, right?”

“Yes. I remember you, you offered me to stay in the room with you and a few of the others.”

“Yeah, that was me. A pleasure to meet you, Anjelika. And, I’m sure you’ve heard it enough times already, but I still want to say I’m sorry about Cole. He’s always been a bit of a dick.”

“Yeah, well hopefully he’s learned his lesson.”

Magnet laughed. “At least where you’re concerned, I think he might’ve.”

Jimmy came back then, Rogina right behind him and the bus door closing right behind them as it started to slowly move forward. Rogina kept her eyes on mine as she came over to sit on the other side of me. I took her hand in mine and slowly turned my head toward Robert, holding out my other hand to him. Hesitantly, he took it and stepped closer to me, Magnet moved so Robert could sit next to me as well.

“I need to apologize to both of you. I’m so sorry for the way I acted yesterday. I was just still so angry with Cole…and myself. I never meant to hurt either of you. I find myself caring about both of you, far more than I want to admit.”

“Anjelika…” they spoke at the same time.

“Hold off on whatever you two are going to say, because I have more to explain.” I looked over at Magnet, then Jimmy.

“It’s alright, Magnet isn’t going to say anything. This doesn’t leave this bus, no matter what happens.”

I nodded and took a deep breath before explaining everything I had told Jimmy earlier that morning before going into things I wasn’t able to then.“There are some abilities that all Nightbane have in common. Mirror Walk, the ability to go between this world and its mirror image, what we call the Night Lands. Night vision, that one’s self explanatory. We can shapeshift between our facade and Morphus at will, are stronger and tougher even in the facade, add to that faster and more agile in Morphus. Some can even fly if they have wings….like I do.”

I held up a hand as I took another breath before continuing. “We also have abilities we call talents, most of which involve the manipulation of shadows in some way or another. Though there are some that can manipulate something that has to do with their Morphus.”

The bus was quiet for a few moments when I finished. Seven pairs of eyes looked at one another, unsure of what to say next. Grant looked towards Jonesy, the bassist appeared pale. I wondered if he looked as scared as he did when Bonzo told them about himself as well. The drummer reached out and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, giving him a gentle rub. Silently reassuring him that everything would be alright. Jimmy sighed as he looked at the remainder of the group. Robert opened his mouth to say something, but there was nothing. Magnet stared wide eyed and shocked.

Rogina seemed frightened and a little tense, like she was ready to run out of this bus and return to her bandmates. I reached out to take her and Robert’s hands again. Robert gazed at me, and then slowly interlaced his fingers with mine. Rogina stood up and backed away. Her body was still and her face petrified, like she had just come face to face with a most horrific creature.

I felt my heart start to ache, “Rogina…”

Rogina gulped, she was like a frightened animal placed into a corner with no hope of escape. I stood up and she walked back even further, slowly shaking her head.

Robert placed a hand on my shoulder, “Anjelika, please sit.”

I just walked a little more towards her, “Please Rogina, you need to understand-”

“Get away from me. Stay back!” She screamed.

I could feel a lump forming in my throat as my eyes began to fill with tears, “Please don’t be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you. I’ve never hurt anyone!”

Robert interjected, holding my shoulders, “Rogina, everything is alright. Nothing’s going to happen. Come back.”

Rogina’s breathing had become shaken, “No! How do I know that you’re not one of them?! You?! All of you?!”

Magnet stood up, “Rogina come on, you’re overreacting. I mean Bonzo is one too.”

“What?!” Rogina screamed.

Bonzo shook his head, “Well that was certainly a great thing to spill. And at a time like thi-”

“Shut up!” Rogina shouted. She looked around frantically for the nearest exit, “I want out! Get me off this bus!”

Peter cleared his throat, “Rogina, here why don’t we have a little chat?” He placed his hands up, “And don’t worry, I’m not a Nightbane.”

Rogina shook her head, but Peter gently insisted. As terrifying as that man can be when having to deal with people that can be difficult, there was a side to Grant that made him more approachable. Like a father figure that wanted nothing more than to keep his family safe from harm’s way. He was a man with a strong voice, yet he could show kindness when the situation called for it.

Rogina still looked as if she wanted to run, but eventually nodded, following Peter toward the back of the bus and into a different room. I stood there watching until they disappeared from view, then slowly made my way back to Robert. I buried my face in his chest and started to cry, unable to hold them back anymore. The singer wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his lap, kissing my forehead softly and whispered reassurances.

Almost an hour later, Peter came back out, but there was no sign of Rogina and I buried my face back into Robert’s chest. Peter rubbed my back comfortingly as he walked past to sit down. “It’ll be ok, I think. She’s just asking for time to process.”

The rest of the ride is nearly silent, the only sounds besides the engine was Robert comforting me and Bonzo keeping John Paul calm. A few hours later, we stopped to refuel and get lunch. Everyone slowly got off the bus except for Robert and myself. When Rogina came from the back room, she stopped and looked at me, opening her mouth to say something, but closed it again and left. I stared at the door where she left before finally looking away, my eyes downcast, not even looking at Robert.

Slowly, we get up too. As much as I was not feeling hungry at that moment, I needed to eat something. I went inside with the singer and found a table away from the others and ordered a soup and half sandwich with tea for lunch. Robert sat next to me with his slightly bigger lunch, trying to radiate as much comfort and calm as he could. There was nothing that I could say to him, Rogina, or to anybody really. A part of me wished that the floor below me would open up so that I could slip into a hole and stay there. Why did I ever have to end up here? In this timeline specifically? And why must I find myself showing feelings? Knowing very well that sooner or later, probably when I least expect it, that my time here will end abruptly. I’ll find myself alone again, like always.

“Anj,” Robert whispered, holding my hand. “Darlin’ I know that you’ve had a hard couple of days, but please eat something.” He placed a hand around my shoulder and held me close to his side, “You know, when Bonzo told me about being a Nightbane… I couldn’t talk to him for three days. I just didn’t know what to say to the man.”

I kept my eyes on my food, sighing deeply.

“I don’t know what it’s like to be what you are, but I know this… I care about the ones around me, Nightbanes and humans. Just know that I care about you. And Rogina, well like G said, this will take a bit of time for her to process.”

I looked at him and nodded, but I still felt upset, as selfish as that sounded in my head. Reluctantly, I grabbed onto my sandwich and took a bite. Robert sighed quietly with relief when he saw me eat, at least I would have something in my stomach for the time being. After another bite, I excused myself and headed over to the bathroom to collect myself. I didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it right now. I looked at my reflection and tried to steady my breathing, hoping that I wouldn’t come out looking like such a mess. Still he was right, mortal beings have a tough time accepting something that strays from what they consider to be normal. With creatures that can shapeshift, well that’s a different story entirely. I couldn’t help but wonder what Robert must have felt when he had first learned that his oldest friend was not quite what he seemed to be. I wonder how Bonzo reacted after telling everyone in the band what he was. Did he feel lonely? Upset? Regretful?

All mopiness aside, I had to return back to the table. To my surprise, I saw Rogina sitting across from Robert as I slightly opened the bathroom door. I stayed in for a few minutes, watching her lips move as he leaned in to listen to her speak. She still appeared afraid and a bit angry at him, even though her voice sounded calm. All I could see from Robert was him either shaking or nodding his head as she continued. Rogina’s eyes then caught sight of me as I stepped out, she slowly stood up and headed back to the table with the remainder of the group. When I took my place again, I continued with finishing the remainder of my meal. I wanted to ask Robert what they were talking about, yet I couldn’t bring myself to ask. Robert looked up at me, seeing the questions behind my eyes I won’t voice. “She’s still upset, but not just at you. She’s upset with us too, the band, I mean. And Keith, apparently. I didn’t know it, but Bonzo told Keith too, about a year ago and he’s kept it a secret as well.” He took a drink of his lemonade before continuing. “She still cares about you, though. She didn’t exactly say it, but I can tell.”

We finished our lunch and I picked up some saltwater taffy. When Robert insisted on paying this time, I didn’t argue. I felt too drained to even try and I think he knew it. We went back to the bus to wait for everyone else.while we waited, the singer spoke again. “I know how this might sound, but I want you to stay in my room tonight. Just so I can keep an eye on you. After Bonzo told Jimmy and Jonesy, he didn’t want to be alone.”

Still too drained to argue, I just nodded my head. I couldn’t blame Bonzo. I didn’t want to be alone either. Curling into him, Robert pulled me into his lap and held me as I lay my head on his chest. After everyone got on the buses, we started moving again and I fell asleep on Robert’s lap.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD Holiday Special Clues

Hey Everyone! I watched the holiday special last night. I know not everyone can. At least not yet. (Not sure if they’ll air it eventually.) So I’ll report what jumped out at me from it.

The first thing is that I definitely noticed a “return vibe” running through it. But first thing’s first.

They mentioned “reuniting the Greene sisters” at least twice. Maybe three times. Chris said it in the intro. I’m paraphrasing but something like “Emily Kinney and Lauren Cohan are here. We’re gonna reunite the Greene sisters!” And then he repeated that again during the episode. So yeah. Side-eying that.

Then Emily sang her song, Up on the Housetop, pretty early. I wasn’t sure about this at first, but it did occur to me that they chose to have her sing a song about Santa returning stealthily in the night. And yes, I know that’s pretty weak on its own. I mean, it’s a Christmas special. Any song they sing is either going to be about Santa or the Christ child. But even so. It wasn’t Jingle Bells or anything more generic. They picked the song about Santa returning stealthily (he does that every year, after all) when and where no one was looking for him to be. I’ll talk about this more at the end.

(Just recorded this oon my phone, so not the best quality. ;D) 

 There were a lot of small things that MIGHT be clues, but also might not be. Things that we COULD read into but we really might be reaching. Things the actor (such as Josh McDermitt) said while telling stories about childhood Christmases, for example. I’ll skip those, for the most part, as they aren’t all that compelling on their own.

So then there were two 10-season things they did. They had the actors who play Ezekiel, Yumiko, Jerry, and Lydia sing a rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas, except it was the 10 seasons of TWD. It was fun, and I want to read into some of the lines, but it’s hard to read into all of them. They basically picked one thing from each season, and they were all pretty random. They skipped over Beth entirely, and I’ll admit that IS kind of suspicious (I’ll tell you why in a minute) but at the same time they skipped over a LOT of important things, so I’m not sure we can call it a pattern.

So, for example, the season 2 line was “Hershel at his Farm.” That makes total sense because it encapsulates the gist of S2. So, if they’d stayed with that theme, you ‘d think s3’s line would have been about the prison or the Governor or Woodbury, right? They went with “baby Judith’s birth.” And obviously that was a big deal but it doesn’t exactly bring across everything that happened in S3, you know? So, kind of random. For S4, you’d think they would talk about the downfall of the prison, but they went with “look at the flowers.” 

So, they didn’t mention Beth or Grady at all for S5, and I find that suspicious bc Coda was definitely the biggest thing that happened in S5 with the biggest fan reaction. But again, they weren’t exactly breaking pattern here. For S5, they went with “Morgan Jones returns.” S6 was “Scary Saviors arriving” or something along those lines. (Understand I’m paraphrasing most of these because I didn’t write down exact words.) S7 was “Abe and Glenn in heaven.” S8 was Carl getting bitten. Sufficiently a big deal, of course, but there was also that burning Phoenix. Must not have been very memorable, lol. S9 was “Rick in a copter” and S10 was “Negan killing Alpha.” I think.

Not until they’d sung several more verses did the part about Morgan returning start to jump out at me. I mean, in terms of S5, that literally happens the last two minutes of the season. And yes, it was a big deal to the fandom, but it hardly represents all of S5, right? But using him as the “5th day of Christmas” part of the song automatically puts emphasis on it. If you think of the song, it slows down considerably and emphasizes “5 golden rings.” And for this it was “Morgan Jones return.” So it felt like there was a heavy emphasis on that.

So, an emphasis on the return of a character who hadn’t been on in a while before that. And of course there are all those DC al Coda parallels between Beth and Morgan. Just saying. Later in the special, they do another “return thing.”

Then they did an “In Memoriam” that covered 10 seasons of walker kills. This one was much more suspicious in a TD way to me. Like the song, they basically chose one iconic, epic walker kill to represent each season. And there are a lot more of these I think we can read into as Beth symbols. So, for S1, it was Teddy Bear Girl. For S2, Well walker. (Water.) For S3, that walker they killed when cleaning out the prison yard whose face slides off. The thing about this walker is that it’s wearing black riot gear. A lot like what the CRM soldiers wear. For S4, it was the Big Spot walker that falls through the roof. That one made me happy. For S5, that walker Daryl killed at Terminus with the crow bar. You know, the famous one whose face he caved in against the brick wall? 

For s6, it was the sewer walkers Maggie and Aaron ran into under Alexandria. Definitely side-eyeing that. For s7, they showed Winslow. And what was great about that is that it specifically showed the part where one of Winslow’s spikes when through Rick’s hands. (Stigmata, making him a Christ figure.) For S8, it was where Daryl was riding around on his bike shoot boxes with his gun that then blew up. He blew up one of the walkers that way. For 9, it was the walker that came up out of the river while Daryl was fishing (long hair after Rick left). And for S10 it was the walker horde hitting the electric fence before the Hilltop battle.

So yeah. We can definitely read into some of those as Beth parallels.

The end of the special had some weirdnesses in it, and my favorite TD reference.

First, Chris asked everyone to say what their character would bring to a holiday party. Lauren said Maggie would bring the turkey. Kaylee said Judith would bring the games. But we didn’t hear Emily or IRonE’s answers. I just thought it was weird because it cut very abruptly and we didn’t get to hear what their characters would have brought. I mean, it’s obvious they edit these, because they often jump suddenly to the next question and you don’t hear the segue. I don’t judge them for editing. They have to do this in a certain time frame, and there can lots of white noise when conducting zoom calls. But still, I have to wonder what, exactly, they’re cutting out.

So then Chris asks, again, as though he’s going to ask each person, with the show ending, who they think will be the “last person standing.” He didn’t say man, I don’t think, but the echo of Beth’s line was painfully obvious. And he asked Emily first. And who did she say? She said Norman, or Norman and Melissa.

So, she didn’t actually say Daryl, and the “Norman and Melissa” thing is pretty obvious given the spinoff. But we literally had them asking who the last “person” standing would be, and she said Norman/Daryl. Just saying.

Then Lauren did this mock, I-can’t-believe-you-didn’t-pick-your-sister thing and they all started laughing and Emily said something like, “just kidding. If I were writing the script, they’d kill all the walkers and Maggie would be queen.” I think IRonE answered the question as well, but I think what he said got lost in all the goofing around.

But yeah. Obvious Bethyl reference and they indirectly tied it to the spinoff. Just saying.

So, before I get to the final one, they they took Emily and IronE away and brought on Angela and Gimple. That part was kind of meh. Just nothing that really jumped out at me. Chris asked Gimple to give us some tidbits about the Rick movies. And Gimple did his usual, “we’re working on it but can’t say much” thing. So then Chris asked AK to talk about the bonus episodes. She talked a lot more than Gimple and Chris gave Gimple crap about that. But honestly, she pretty much just repeated what we already know from the episode synopses that were released: A Daryl/Carol episode, a Negan episode, with Hillary Burton, more on Eugene’s group, etc. So yeah. Nothing knew or exciting there.

They showed a very short clip of the table read from the episode where Daryl and Carol go their separate ways. I thought it was interesting that they used that particular moment. But I suppose they’re doing it to hype the spinoff.

Finally, they ended with Chris reading a TWD rendition of Twas the Night Before Christmas. Most of it was cute little rhymes about the various characters, but one part REALLY jumped out at me.

“And that’s when they saw it high up on a shelf:

A new walking talkie. Was it left by an elf?

They heard static and crackling but nothing made sense

The room became quiet, so SERIOUS, so tense.

Together they gathered, a closer look they did take

When a helicopter overhead made the entire house shake.

And then a voice on the walkie was heard so clear and so bright

It was Rick grimes wishing “Peace unto all and to all a good night.”

 Now, there were other passages I found suspicious as well. Stuff about Daryl and Dog, and Connie and Kelly receiving tons of cats for Christmas. You’ll have to tell me what part stands out most to you.

But here, we have a voice on a walkie, Rick in a helicopter, and a serious mention. Of course they were never going to put Beth’s name in here. It would be too obvious, but given the parallels between her and Rick, I know I don’t have to explain why this makes me happy. AND in the story, it’s happening on Christmas Eve. The return of a character they think is dead.

So I think it also works with the Up on the Housetop theme I mentioned at the beginning. As I said, I wasn’t sure about that at first, but after hearing their poem, it made me think I was barking up the right tree there.

So, because there was such a heavy “return” emphasis here, it got me thinking of the weirdness of having a holiday special at all. I hadn’t really questioned it before now. Just something fun to tide people over. Because Covid, you know?

But now it feels like a clue that THIS is the Christmas after which she’ll return. They’re doing it this year, where they haven’t in years past, because THIS is the year Daryl will get something from Santa Clause.

Also, about a week ago (before the special aired) @wdway​ sent me an article about it. It was obvious this was filmed early, not live, because the article actually talked about some of what would happen in the holiday special. And the part they talked about was where Emily said Norman would be the last man standing.

So what we found suspicious about that (apart from what I’ve already talked about here; the blatant echo of a famous Bethyl moment) is that the article ONLY talked about Emily and that question. It mentioned who else would be on and such, but the entire emphasis of the article was Emily and her answer to that question.

So it felt like the special was entirely geared toward featuring Emily.  

Thoughts?

[smallwomanlongstory]

Our Lady of Czestochowa

My memory once contextualized major events using seasons, or tenure at a certain job or school. At some point, though, I began to mark time according to traumas. I knew we sold a property right before the second big relapse. Our daughter's baptism happened a week or so after the first night S slammed my body into furniture.

When it all started, it was October. I took T on a trip to a field across the Hudson River to pick pumpkins. At the farm stand, I picked up a jar of four berry jelly. Waiting in line, I stared at the jar lid and counted the little red, pink and white checks, arriving at an even number. I smiled, thinking there was a potion sealed beneath the gingham. Magic that would vanquish those little drug baggies that tumbled from S's jean pockets into my washing machine. The jelly would show him that I’d thought of him. Foolishly, back then, I still hoped things could be fixed with kind gestures, or the right string of words. 

That October was defined by my bare feet slapping cold hard pavement as I chased after S; by tears streaming down my face as I grabbed him and begged him to go to the hospital. October was my mother’s hand moving back and forth between my shoulder blades as I struggled to fall asleep in my childhood bed. My own bed was uninhabitable because it was where I held my husband and felt his heart beat so hard and so fast, I thought he would die. October was fear; fear that the handful of diet pills S took would give him a heart attack; fear when he called from a far-away city, paranoid and crying; even greater fear when my phone wasn’t ringing.

S moved to the United States, to a middle state, without knowing a word of English, when he was seven. His father took him to a park where S saw kids his age playing soccer. Wanting to join, S asked his dad for an English lesson. His dad told him to just stretch out the Portuguese word for sock, Meia (pronounced "May-Uh"), and taught S a new word, “play.” S sprinted across the grass, repeating his line, “Meia play, Meia play, Meia play,” in his head. When he finally reached the children and asked the rehearsed question, they said, “no”, and ran away.

In the emergency room that October, S squeezed my hand, turning my knuckles white, begging me to tell the doctors he was ok to be released. I knew he wasn’t. I knew he would get out and use again, but I looked at the other people in the psychiatric emergency room; a man in hospital scrubs pacing up and down the hall, spitting into a cup; a women on a gurney, the fluorescent ceiling lights highlighting something brown smeared across her pant leg; a teenage boy behind plexiglass and wires, his knees drawn up to his chest, rocking and sobbing. On drugs, S terrified me, I didn’t want him home, but I could also see the little boy in him, scared himself, running across the park wondering if his shy “May I Play” would be understood, and I couldn’t leave him alone with all that filth and sorrow.

That night, from the depths of my jewelry box, I resurrected the Our Lady of Czestochowa medallion that my grandmother gave me and I started wearing it daily. Every night I told Our Lady my fears, took the necklace off, and placed it under my pillow. Through spiritual osmosis, I hoped, The Black Madonna would take my worries. 

The real Our Lady is a wooden icon, an image of The Virgin mother and her child that was painted by Saint Luke onto a table-top. Said to be fortified by the tears Mary shed ceaselessly following her son’s death, many miracles are attributed to the relic.

During a fourteenth century war with the Tartars, Our Lady’s wooden throat was struck by an arrow. A mark was left. That time period was a bloody one for Poland, and just a few decades later a Hussite pillager added two gashes to her cheek. When the pillager lifted his sword to make a fourth scar, he dropped to the ground and died in agony.  Restoration attempts have tried to smooth the icon’s face and neck, but the stigmata always reappear.

Our Lady of Czestochowa is nicknamed The Black Madonna. Theologians speculate that her face was tinted by soot, centuries of candle offerings. I knew smoke had nothing to do with her coloring.  There is no point in consecrating one’s suffering to something blithe.

When S was healthy, we had a favorite skit. Whenever T woke up wet or hungry, we went together into her room and lifted her from the crib. S would voice-over T’s crying, pretending to be a disgruntled hotel guest. In a pinched English accent, S would say something like: “The service around here is outrageously slow. It took three whole seconds for you people to get here.”

Then I would go, “So sorry sir, I came as soon as you rang. Can I get you a fresh Elmo diaper?”

In the fussy indignation common to infants and crusty old men, S would continue, “What must I do for some warm milk? Need I write a letter to management? Notify my grandmother perhaps?”

T would see her parents laughing and tending to her. Her tears would dry up and she’d smile or coo. I loved our little act. In it, we were our own little universe, a normal family.

Except we weren't, and I became obsessed with Our Lady of Czestochowa. I bought a thick book, a collection of the miracles attributed to the icon: men at war made safe though the odds were against them; blind women made to see; ships manned by devout sailors, righted after being flipped.  My favorite was about a little boy who, not understanding the damage it would cause, placed his baby sister in a warming hearth. The mother returned from some chore to find that her baby was charred, and immediately carried the little burnt body up the hill and into the monastery where our Lady presides. The child was healed and the story wrapped neatly with the family reunited, no questions raised about the brother’s intentions, or the mother’s distraction.

The Black Madonna has two elaborately decorated dresses; one adorned with jewels and one that was hand-sewn with gold thread and beads by peasant women. As liturgical seasons pass, the monks change her. I liked to picture them preparing for the ceremony like school girls given new ornaments for an exceptionally pretty paper doll, competing for a chance to fuss over the amber and embroidery. In my mind, the brothers would become fresh, exchanging snubs and lightly slapping the back of one another’s hands. I wanted to believe that the Black Madonna made them devolve into pettiness, because I wanted Our Lady to be powerful.

Somewhere, I read that I should picture the person I was worried for wrapped in a warm blanket, protected. Desperate for a tool, some nights I put S in every blanket, sheet, and towel in our linen closet. I’d put him in God’s palm, next to Jesus, on a radiant cloud with my dead grandparents. I would feel stupid, childish, still worried.

 It wasn't until the week or so before I left S that, suddenly, finally, I recognized why the blanket imagery never worked. The warm places I'd managed to create weren’t meant for S, they belonged to me. I still love to lift the Black Madonna medallion to my lips and kiss its scars. She reminds me that I can always access faith and safety; it's in my experience, in all the ways that I've survived.

[somerton]

The American Trilogy

People have said that Stanley Kubrick’s final 7 films are more like 1 film about humanity spanning different genres. It’s undeniable that there are specific parallels and connections between his films, but the way his films connect to each other on a basic level is quite interesting and not very difficult to see.

Dr. Strangelove ends with nuclear bombs destroying the world cut to the black void of 2001; The Dawn of Man. The end of the world caused by man’s violent nature transitioned into the beginning of man’s violent nature with Moonwatcher discovering the bone as a weapon.

2001 ends with the Starchild looking directly at the camera; at us, while A Clockwork Orange opens with a closeup on Alex’s eye. A transcended soul cut to a devilish man. The eye was a very potent symbol within 2001, representing the vast exploration possible inside oneself. The eye continues to be important in Clockwork, especially with Alex’s stigmata eyeball cuff links, strengthening the comparison to the godlike Starchild and Jesus Christ dying on the cross as a man, transcending to a God. Alex does not transcend, he lives on to do the deeds of evil men.

A Clockwork Orange, set in a near future or alternate reality, ends with an offer for Alex to move his way up the societal ladder by aligning himself with the same corrupt politicians who used the Ludavico technique on him in the first place, then a daydream with Alex surrounded by what look to be noble men and women of a past era observing him in a sexual act with a woman. The next film, Barry Lyndon is a period piece that explores the issues of class in 18th century Europe and trying to better oneself by moving up in the classist system. Clockwork is a story about where society is now (or was then), while Barry Lyndon explores where society was within the period piece genre. Interestingly enough not much has changed. Both world’s are violent, full of wealthy people using lower class people to further their own agendas, the people at the bottom forced to scratch their way to the top of a corrupt system, often using nefarious techniques to get ahead.

Kubrick is trying to communicate the way society / humans are and have always been while connecting the films with transitional elements that bring this idea into the viewer’s subconscious.

I believe those films, are also connected to the final three in Kubrick’s portrayal humanity and the way he sought to hold a mirror up to us via the cinema screen. However, The Shining, Full Metal Jacket, and Eyes Wide Shut seem to have a deeper connection to each other than the previous films. Yes, they too are an exploration of genre, using the conventions of it to subvert more complex themes, but I feel Kubrick started to develop ideas on how to thematically connect these films on an even deeper level throughout the 20 year period spent completing these three.

I suggest that the final three films act as a trilogy, exploring the genocide America was built on and the ideals of which continue to permeate through our society. These films are his ode to America’s dark secret hidden in plain sight. Not since Dr. Strangelove had he made a movie even based in America. These final 3 are inherently American films. While Strangelove was an overt criticism of authoritarian power, the final trilogy shrouds itself in a ghost story, a war epic, and a sexual thriller in order to issue Kubrick’s vicious critique.

Just to caveat, I don’t think the final trilogy are ONLY critiquing America but I do think this is crucial in all three films, more so than his others excluding Strangelove. 2001, Clockwork, and Barry Lyndon are more overtly commenting on humanity and culture in general.  

Let’s get into how the final 3 specifically do this. I’m going to breeze by a lot of basic info that any Kubrick obsessive should already know.

The Shining references Native Americans constantly, the hotel is built on an “Indian burial ground” and had to repel Native American attacks while building the Overlook. There’s a ton of info on this out there already so I don’t feel it necessary to explain all the evidence to support this, but it’s overtly injected into the film, barely under the surface. There’s also a ton of material to support the idea that the hotel itself represents America and it’s constant ability to “Overlook” the horrors that our society is built on. Stuart Ullman, the Hotel Manager has an American flag on his desk, echoing his jacket and tie with an American eagle statue poking out form behind his head (Symbols related to characters’ heads are important in Kubrick’s work). In a film where mirrors are also important his initials backwards are US. The Shining is about the bloody birth of America and the generational inheritance of said violence. To see these things, one has to use their own ability to Shine and see through the veil of genre.

The next film is Full Metal Jacket, based in the Vietnam War. The film starts out with soldiers getting their heads shaved, representing the first step in their dehumanization at the hands of the U.S Military. Vietnam is not considered a just war and is an obvious extension of the genocidal characteristics America was born into. America is still doing the same thing that The Shining represents; going into a place full of brown skinned people and wreaking havoc for their own benefit and seemingly justified by racial bias. Vietnam is truly the beginning of a modern genocide, justified by politics, fear, money, and propaganda. This film came out in 1987, 12 years after Vietnam ended, but interestingly enough 3 years before another example of this American Imperialism; The Gulf War. Full Metal Jacket makes us look at something inhumane that just recently happened and yet most people remember the drill Sergeant yelling hilarious obscenities at the soldiers, many thinking the second half of the film as inferior to the first. As horrific as the dehumanization process of bootcamp is, it’s easier to watch than the reality that happened in Vietnam. In the film’s major battle sequence, we see multiple solders die, wasting hundreds of rounds only to find one young girl to be their target. This is the reality of Vietnam. Note the poster’s reference to Joker’s helmet, BORN TO KILL, relating to both the birth of America and the eagle behind Ullman’s head, turning him into a literal figurehead of this inherited American violence. 

Eyes Wide Shut continues this theme from the perspective of someone living their adult life in post Vietnam society. The modern genocide has turned war into a commodity and has shown the darkest side of capitalism. Bill probably was too young to go to Vietnam but would be a first generation adult starting a family post Vietnam (meaning he was old enough to experience Vietnam as a child but not old enough to go).

Coincidentally enough, when EWS was released in 1999 the US were only a few years away from yet another unjust conflict in Iraq based on lies with huge non-compete contracts handed out to companies that the G.W. Bush administration had personal and financial connections with. It’s also interesting to note that although this couldn’t have been intended by Kubrick, the themes of generational violence being passed down through the generations connects to George Bush starting an Iraq war in the 90s while just over a decade later his son would do that same. Kubrick saw humanity in such a deep way, the good and bad, that he’s almost seen the future through his exploration of complex themes. Sadly though I don’t believe he was psychic, but purely able to to see the reality of cycles we humans perpetuate throughout time.

Eyes Wide Shut is about modern society’s classist structures and how someone like Bill Harford could be so oblivious to the dangers that surround his lovely life and how easily that can be taken away by his own inability to see himself and the various social constructs he participates in. He is blind to the world, happy as clam to live an upperclass Manhattanite lifestyle. This is inherently connected to the more overt violent themes in the previous two films. There is a cultural genocide perpetuated by the richest people who use others like pieces on a chessboard; built off of the original sin of America’s treatment of the Natives and continued through our unjust wars of today, finally providing the power structure for a few people to wield over the rest. Money in Eyes Wide Shut is equivalent to the axe in The Shining, the rifles in Full Metal Jacket. The first line in Eyes Wide Shut is, “Honey have you seen my wallet?”. This is no accident, it’s a seemingly insignificant line of dialog that immediately begins to beg you to pay attention to this theme. 

- From The Shining: ULLMAN: We had four presidents who stayed here, lots of movie stars. WENDY: Royalty? ULLMAN: All the best people.

See my post on “All the best people”

[psycheswritings]

Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - One

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Original Female Character (Daphne Scott)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 4770

Author’s Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah for everybody. If you're not celebrating something different or not celebrating at all, feel welcome too. As promised, the first real chapter of the saga is here. Hope you all like it. Again, this haven’t been proofread, so feel free to report any mistakes back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter. Also, your feedback is also highly appreciated.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Summary: Thomas Shelby wants to expand his business to London and for that to be possible he needs to form and alliance with the unpredictable Alfie Solomons. However he may get more than what he was bargaining for when he meets Daphne, a mysterious woman who works alongside the Jew gangster.

One

Buried into an unrealistic amount of paperwork the last thing Daphne thought that could happen that day was Thomas Shelby appearing at the door of the bakery asking to talk to Alfie.

She couldn’t believe it when Ollie came into her office saying that the leader of the Peaky Blinders – who was supposed to be in a hospital bed for at least two more weeks – was there waiting to talk to their boss. She stared at the younger man in front of her for what seemed like a few minutes until he spoke again.

“Josiah is holding him at the door. He doesn’t look so well but is insisting in talking to Alfie.”

“Ok, go on there and hold him for a minute while I go talk to Alfie.” The woman said while getting up from her chair and leaving the room. When she crossed the corridor towards Alfie’s office she saw the Brummie gangster in the distance. It was clear that he was giving a hard time to Josiah, who was trying to hold him back. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, something that made him quite distinguished in the middle of a distillery, but her trained eyes could see that he was in some kind of pain. Ollie made his way towards the both of them, discharging Josiah. Thomas attention was brought to her and despite the distance Daphne recognized a spark of surprise mixed with curiosity in his face.

“Ever heard of fucking knocking?” Daphne simply rolled her eyes, at least he was in a good mood.

“Thomas Shelby is here.” His reaction was immediate, lifting his gaze from the papers in his hands and looking directly at her while she approached his desk.

“Fucking what?”

“Well, you did send him the telegram, didn’t you? It was almost an invitation, you had to be expecting that he would take it.”

“Well, not so soon, love. Our associate didn’t said that he was beaten to death?” Confusion painted the gangster’s face while he looked expectantly at the woman in front of him.

“He was ambushed by Sabini and his men not a week ago.” She paused remembering what Alice had said to her. “A friend of mine who works in the hospital in Birmingham said that he was severely injured and that he would be discharged of the hospital care in more or less a month. If he was lucky.”

“Hell, what is he doing here then?”

“Trying to talk to you.” Daphne simply said. “He was giving Josiah a hard time, Ollie is holding him back now.” Alfie stood up in between a bunch of curses, heading to the door. When he passed Daphne, he stopped and looked at her before saying:

“You stay in your office. Let me deal with him. I don’t want you around this one more than what is necessary.”

“Alfie, this is really the best time for you to play big brother with me?” She almost rolled her eyes but he seemed serious so she held herself back. Goddammit, she knew how to fend for herself but he always seemed to forget it.

“Anytime is a good time to protect you from danger you don’t have to expose yourself to. I made a promise that I don’t intend on breaking.” They just stared at each other for a moment before he left the room leaving the door open for her. Daphne’s fingers immediately searched for the locket hanging in a chain around her neck, playing with it. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the lump in her throat before following his steps out of the room. This wasn’t the moment to revisit the past. Her eyes crossed with Tommy’s when she was going back to her office and she saw the spark of interest in the way he watched her.

He was going to be trouble, that much she was certain.

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Thomas watched carefully as Alfie Solomons walked through the extent of the distillery to meet him at the door. He was still intrigued by the woman who passed by – he had done his research and none of them lead to a wife or a significant other in the Jewish gangster’s life. A sister would also appear on his radar, just like Ada did to Sabini. No, beautiful as she was and walking freely at the distillery she had to mean something important Solomons. Mistress, maybe? Thomas wasn’t inclined on believing Alfie would permit his mistress to walk around the distillery freely, commanding his business as her own. Besides, she seemed too classy to sell herself like that but appearances are deceiving. He would discover their bond one way or another.

“Put him down, Ollie. Put him down, mate. He is only little.” Ollie took a step back immediately and Thomas took one forward, towards Alfie who looked quizzically at him before asking “You on your own?”

“Seems so.” Tommy said after looking behind him almost mockingly. Alfie said nothing on the subject - the man was bold, he had to give him that. Another reason to keep Daphne as far as possible from him.

“Well, you're a brave lad, ain't you?” He started walking back to where he came from, Tommy in his heels and Ollie right behind. “You want to take a look at my bakery? We bake all sorts here, mate, yeah. Did you know we bake over ten thousand loaves a week? Can you believe it? We bake the white bread, we bake the brown bread. We bake all sorts.” The Jew stopped turning to look at Tommy, a table with glasses and a couple of bottles of what the Brummie supposed was rum right in front of them. “Would you like to try some? Bread? Yeah?” Thomas sniffed before looking between the table and Alfie. This seemed like some kind of test.

“All right.”

“What would you like, brown or white?”

“Will try the brown.”

“Brown, right.” Two glasses were poured and the both man took them. Tommy took a sip of the drink while Alfie studied his reaction closely.

“Not bad.” He stated after analyzing the contents of the glass and putting it back down on the table.

“Not bad? Not bad, huh?” They stared at each other for a few moments. “It's fucking awful that stuff. Fucking brown stuff is awful, but it's for the workers. Yeah. White stuff now, right, is for the bosses. Come look.” Them Alfie led Thomas to his office with a smiling Ollie behind them.

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“Well, I've heard very bad, bad, bad things about you Birmingham people. Tsk, tsk, eh?” Thomas looked unimpressed as he took a pack of cigarettes and matches from the table, lightening one and taking a drag. “You're gypsies, right? So what, do you live in a fucking tent or caravan?”

“I came here to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons.” Thomas completely ignored Alfie’s attempt of putting him off by making comments about his heritage. The other man clapped his hands, leaning into the desk between them.

“Well, rum is for fun and fucking, isn't it? So, whiskey, now that, that is for business.” Alfie opened a drawer in his desk from where he took a bottle of whiskey.

“Let's talk first, eh?” Solomons scratched his beard, analyzing Tommy once again before taking back the bottle from the desk. He immediately remembered Daphne’s words from right after the moment they discovered that the Brummie and his brothers had crashed into the Eden Club, that he was underestimating the Blinders.

“Suit yourself.” While he put the whiskey back on the drawer, Alfie continued. “They say you had your life saved by a policeman!”

“I have policeman on my payroll.”

“I don’t like policeman, because policeman, they can’t be trusted.”

“Mr. Sabini uses policeman all the time. That’s why he is winning the war in London and you’re losing it.” That made the Jew’s blood boil and his answer was sharp. Maybe Daphne was right, after all.

“A war ain’t over till it’s over, mate.” Alfie narrowed his eyes, his hands closed in fists. “You were in the war?” He opened the top drawer again while talking. “I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on a Italian. I pushed his face up against the trench and shoved a six-inch nail up his fucking nose and I hammered it home with a duckboard. It was fucking biblical, mate. So don’t come in here and sit there in my chair and tell me that I’m losing my war to a fucking wop.”

“That war was a long time ago. You need to be more realistic.” Alfie slammed the drawer shut again. He didn’t liked the fact that he could clearly picture Daphne saying the very same thing to him.

“Realistic, eh?” He leaned into the desk once again. “Realistic.”

“Well, if you weren’t losing the war then you wouldn’t have sent me that telegram.” Thomas stated taking another drag of the cigarette. He was getting where he wanted.

“Really? You forget your fucking telegram, the telegram just said “hello”.” His tone was dismissive. “Face it, you want to sell me something.” Alfie paused for a second. “What?”

“We join forces.”

“Fuck off. No. Categorical. Fucking ridiculous.” Alfie said reclining back into his chair. It was Tommy’s time to come forward and lean on the desk.

“Mr. Solomons, your distillery provides one-tenth of your income. Protection is another ten percent and the rest you make from the race tracks.” While Thomas was talking, Alfie kept toying with the drawer’s handle what made Brummie gangster annoyed. “I know you keep a gun in the drawer. I know you keep it beside the whiskey. I know you offer a deal or death.” They just stared at each other for a moment in a battle of wits. “I know what I’m saying makes you angry but I’m offering you a solution.” The Jewish gangster scratched his beard once again while Thomas continued talking. “You see, Mr. Sabini is running all your bookies off your courses. And he is closing down the premises that take your rum. And people don’t trust your protection anymore.”

“You’re the blow that shoot Billy Kimber, right?” Alfie asked pointing at Tommy. “You did, you fucking shot him. That’s you.” The Brummie just stayed silent. “You fucking betrayed him, mate. So it’ll be only appropriate to do what I’m thinking in my head to you right now.” The Jew’s right hand came to rest on the drawer’s handle. Thomas seemed unfazed by it – he didn’t care about dying anymore. He also knew that Solomons wouldn’t have send him the telegram if he wasn’t interested in his help, so he was convinced that all that was more of a demonstration of power than anything else.

“I can offer you a hundred good men, all with weapons and a new relationship with the police.”

“Intelligence. Intelligence is a very valuable thing, ain’t it, my friend. And usually it comes far too fucking late.” Alfie puts a gun at Tommy’s face then. “Let’s say I shoot you already, right, in the fucking face. And the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet, over there. Which is a shame, isn’t it? Because that cabinet is fucked, now I gotta get shot of it. So, what I do is this. It’s fucking simple, mate.” Tommy’s nose starts bleeding at the same time Alfie uncocks the gun and put it down on the table. “I cut that cabinet in half, don’t I? I do, I just cut the cabinet, I cut…” Alfie throws a handkerchief at the table towards Tommy that just ignores it and cleans the blood from his face with his hand. “I cut the cabinet literally in half, mate. And I take one half of the cabinet, right, and I put it into a barrel and take the other half of the cabinet and all its pieces and I put it into another barrel, right. And I send this barrel off to Mandalay and the other barrel to somewhere like… I don’t know. Timbuktu. Have you ever been?”

“No.”

“No? Would you like to go?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I always thought you’d have a great, big, fucking gold ring in your nose.” They just stared at each other again. “I am sorry, go on. Tell us your plan.”

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Not much time after Daphne was back in her office, Ollie came in telling that she was needed down on the bakery. She sighed before following him. It was always like that, when Alfie wasn’t available she was the one to deal with the important things. She was talking to one of their associates when she heard Alfie’s thunderous voice calling her name. He was at the door of his office searching for her. When their eyes met, Daphne raised her brows in a questioning look. He just discharged it by signing her to come over, telling the man she was talking to to wait a minute.

Alfie waited for her at the door, putting a protective hand at her back when she reached him. Daphne did not question him, she just entered the office with him right behind her back. Thomas was standing, waiting for her, intrigued by the interaction between her and the Jewish gangster. She noticed the bottle of whiskey on the desk beside two glasses. Then Alfie got what he wanted, after all. But when didn’t he? That was the reason why he wanted her there - he knew she would have to deal with the Shelby’s now that they were officially doing business together and he wanted to have control on how she would met their leader. It was somewhat of laying a claim on her for protection but at the same time, it showed that she was leading things as much as he was.

“Tommy, mate, this is my second in command, my right hand woman, Daphne.” It didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy or Daphne the lack of addressing her last name.

“Thomas Shelby.” He offered her his hand that she took while saying.

“I know.” That made him smile and Alfie scratched his beard in thinking, once again.

“Okay, I made you acquainted because you’ll probably deal with her when I’m not available. Daphne knows everything about the business, probably more than me, mate. So, you fucking respect her and everything should be fine.” That sparked Thomas curiosity - so she worked for Solomons. It was unusual for a man like Alfie to have a woman as his right hand. Of course he had Polly as his second in line but she was family and family should be trusted and put above all. These two didn’t seemed related and yet there was one of the most feared gangster’s in London trusting his business to a woman that Thomas didn’t knew what meant to him. Yet.

“Wouldn’t think otherwise.” Thomas eyes were fixed on her and Daphne noticed for the first time how blue they were. She should feel intimidated, probably, but all she felt was curious. They were interrupted by a knock on the door, it was Ollie.

“I’m sorry, Alfie, but Mr. Sawyer insists on talking to one of you right this moment.” The Jew gangster sighed.

“Fucking hell, that man. Daph, can you…”

“No way. You talk to him. I will take Mr. Shelby to the door, it seems your business here is already finish.” She looked between the two men. “For now.” She left the office without looking back, waiting for the Brummie just outside. Mr. Sawyer appeared in her field of vision with Ollie, making a beeline to her.

“Oh, if it’s not a sight for sore eyes.” The older man kissed the back of Daphne’s hand right, lingering for a little more than was appropriated, in the moment that Tommy and Alfie appeared at the door. Daphne didn’t seemed intimidated or uncomfortable, just annoyed.

“Leave the poor woman alone, Sawyer. Let’s talk business.” Mr. Sawyer said something that Daphne didn’t bothered to take in before he entered Alfie’s office with Ollie on his heels, she was distracted by the feeling of Thomas eyes on her.

“Quite famous around here, aren’t you.” Was all he said when they were left alone in the hall. She just smiled and started walking towards the exit.

“You could say so.”

“Didn’t knew Alfie had a woman.” He commented, trying to fish for information - information that Daphne wasn’t willing to share yet.

“Believe me when I say that Alfie doesn’t have any problem finding women.”

“You’re what, his mistress?” That made Daphne stop in her tracks and turn to look him in the eye. They were already at the front doors and Tommy took the opportunity to take her in better in the light of day– she wore white blouse and light brown skirts that stopped a little above her ankles, boots on her feet. He didn’t noticed many jewelry, just a ring on her left hand, some earrings and a golden locket hanging from her neck. Thomas also noticed that she had hazel eyes that were looking at him with a hint of amusement that he did not expect.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” She saw a glimpse of surprise in his features caused by her answer, so she continued. “Don’t take me for a fool, Mr. Shelby. Besides, there are things better left unknown. Now, if that’s all, I think you’re free to go. Have a good day, Mr. Shelby.” With that she smiled and left him there, speechless, watching her disappear inside the distillery asking himself where the hell did she came from.

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More than an hour after she had left Thomas at the door, Alfie stepped into her office and took a sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk. She did her best to ignore his presence, not taking her eyes of the book she was working on, but it was really difficult to do that when he made his mission to keep moving in the chair, puffing every second and making noises indicating his annoyance to drawn her attention. When she couldn’t bear it anymore she put the pencil down and looked straight into his eyes, making him stop shuffling around.

“Do you need something, Alfie?”

“Aye, actually I do.” He kept staring at her and she just raised a brown in acknowledgment. She knew exactly what he wanted – her opinion on Thomas Shelby – but she wouldn’t make things easier for him. “What did you think about the gypsy?” She hated his word use - especially his tone - but choose to ignore it. You had to know how to pick your battles and that one could wait.

“You already know what I think about it.”

“I know what you think about doing business with him not of him in itself.” Alfie explained, pressing her for an analyses and Daphne let out a heavy breath, leaning into the chair.

“He is trouble.” She paused for a moment thinking about their brief interaction. “He is overconfident, overly ambitious and he is fearless.” Alfie could see the conflict in her eyes. “He is dangerous, Alfie. That’s what he is.”

“Well, I’m dangerous too, love.”

“It’s different.” She picked the pencil from the table and started to play with it. “It’s like you are two sides of the same coin, it’s just… I don’t know how to feel about him.”

“Did he tried something in his way out?” She noticed the hide concern in his question - Alfie was good in disguising his worries about her as something just business related.

“No. He just assumed I was your mistress. He’s very bold, we have to give him that.” A smile crept up onto her face.

“Mistress? The lad is out of his mind, that’s what he is.” He leaned closer to the table, anger seeping through his features.

“He’s not the first to assume that and he won’t be the last.” Alfie knew that it was true. He had heard the rumors around Camden about them both being romantically involved. When he came back from the war with the beautiful girl in his heels people just assumed, in particular because she went to live with him. Bu things were not like that for them – they were like brother and sister and Alfie hated that people just assumed that she had to be opening her legs for him. “You didn’t help it by not revealing my surname.”

“I just wanted to know what he knew about us. He clearly had done his fair share of research. Even knew where I was supposed to keep the gun.”

“It’s only fair, you’ve had done your research on him too.”

“And now we know that he didn’t knew about you. We can use that to our advantage.” They stayed quiet for a while, just staring at nothing, both deep in thought.

“Do you really think it was a good idea to make a deal with him?” Daphne knew they had to do something about the war against Sabini but was still unsure if the Peaky Blinders were worth the trouble.

“We need to win the war, Daph. We will just use him and after that we part ways, aye?”

“That’s the thing, Alfie, I don’t believe that Thomas Shelby is one to be discarded that easily.”

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“There’s something bothering you.” Polly had noticed it since her nephew had come back from London. A hint of something she could not quite figure out.

“There is a woman.” Thomas simple said taking another drag of his cigarette.

“A woman?” Polly was confused.

“Yep.”

“With Solomons?” Thomas nodded. “Well, a wife would have been mentioned. Maybe she is his mistress?”

“I thought about that but I don’t believe so. She is acquainted with the business. He introduced her as his second in command.” The older woman raised her brows in thinking.

“Second in command. Interesting choice of words.”

“Indeed. She appears to be highly educated and the men seem to trust her. Solomons certainly does.” He had been thinking about his short interaction with the mysterious woman – Daphne, the name swayed in his mouth as whiskey, sweet and smooth. She had been on the back of his mind since then, usually the only thing that kept his mind off thinking about the letter in his pocket.

“Well, you better discover who she is. If he has her in so high regards it could be of some value being in her good sides.” Polly was right, of course, Daphne could be an asset to them, but Tommy wanted to discover who she was for entirely different reasons.

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The Garrison was packed - people everywhere for the grand reopening of the pub. Tommy wasn't really in the mood for partying, but he had to keep the appearances. The last few days haven't been the easiest ones for him - Aunt Polly was giving him the cold shoulder because he couldn't reveal where her son was, Arthur had been on edge after killing a boy in the boxing ring, he had to sort some things out about the deal with Solomons and on top of it all, Grace's letter had been sitting on his pocket since Lizzie gave it to him.

For all of that, he found himself sitting alone at one of the tables at the back of the pub, staring at the envelope in front of him. He lit a match and set it on fire just as Polly entered through the back door. She just ignored him and his calls after her, going straight to the party. Not long after Ada entered the pub, Polly immediately going after her niece. Tommy took a glass of champagne for Ada at the same time Esme took Karl from his sister. He made his way to the two women.

“Hello, Ada.” Polly stopped talking mid-sentence, exhaling loudly before leaving them. The gangster handed the glass of champagne to his sister.

“Tommy.” She noticed the tension between his brother and their aunt.

“What do you think, eh?” The two of them start to walk, Ada observing their surroundings.

“It's very, hum...”

“Gold?” He asked with humor.

“Yeah.” Then John appears, hugging Ada and they talk to each other briefly. When he is gone, she turns to talk to Tommy once again. “So what do you want me to say to her?”

“Just talk to her. Nobody can get through to her. Tell her I have no choice.” Ada nods towards him. “I appreciate this.” He observes as Ada leaves him to talk to Polly. The older woman looks at him with disdain while talking to her niece, before leaving to talk with a young man in the other side of the room. He was about to return to the back room when a furor at the front door caught his attention.

There at the doors of the Garrison was Daphne, in a beautiful velvet dress, the deep green of the fabric complimenting beautifully the color of her eyes, making them spark in the light. She held a black coat in one of her arms and a folder in the other. The sight of her took Tommy aback - the woman had been haunting his thoughts for days in a row. She searched the room for Tommy and when her eyes found his she smiled.

He didn’t needed to look around to know that almost all of the heads in the room had turned to her or that people were analyzing the beautiful stranger smiling to the leader of the Peaky Blinders. She started to walk towards him and Tommy couldn’t avoid staring at the way the fabric of her dress brushed over the black stockings covering her legs or the way her hips moved from side to side.

“Mr. Shelby.” They shook hands holding each other gazes.

“Daphne. I would address you properly if I knew your last name.”

“Daphne works fine for me.” She simply answered with a smirk on her face. Thomas almost smiled to himself - she what game he was playing and wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“You are here for the party?”

“Unfortunately, no. Alfie sends you his regards and some papers that need tend to.” She said showing him the folder in her hands.

“And he sent you all the way from London at this hour just to give me some papers?” Her smile only grew at his direct approach.

“Contrary to popular belief my life doesn’t revolve around Alfie’s.” The way she addressed the Jew gangster so casually wasn’t lost to him. Neither did the fact that she had no problem talking back at him - he didn’t intimidate her and Thomas found that amusing. “I was visiting a friend at the hospital and since I was already there it was only logical bringing you the documents.” A friend in the hospital – that could be useful to his research.

“Alfie really trusts you.”

“We have history.” Tommy couldn’t quite explain why her statement bothered him. It was obvious that Daphne and Alfie shared a strong bond or he would not let her around dealing with his business. He also knew that she wasn’t his wife but she didn’t denied being his mistress, although he didn’t believed in it being true considering her reaction towards his questioning at the bakery. The simple thought of it being true made him angry.

“I don’t believe in the sight before my eyes. If it isn’t Daphne Scott here in the good old Small Heat!”

“Ada Thorne. Back to your hometown, I see” The two woman shared a long hug while a very confused Tommy watched the interaction.

“Just visiting the family.” Ada looked at Tommy and he noticed that one of Daphne’s hand instantly searched for the golden locket that rested hidden between her breasts. “What are you doing here? And where did you had the displeasure of meeting one of my brothers?” Daphne and Tommy shared a glance towards one another before she spoke again.

“Thomas is working with my boss, I was collateral damage.” Ada looked at her brother and then at her friend.

“Well, you better keep your eyes open because this one is trouble.”

“Yeah, I figured that much.” Ada noticed the way Tommy’s eyes sparkled hearing Daphne – a hint of his mischievous old self. She smiled to herself since the pair seemed too lost into each other to notice. Maybe it was a good thing they had met after all.

[bunny95]

A love letter to valak.

Walking into the movie I had high hopes since The Conjuring 2 was great installment of the first one and overall the best one of the conjuring franchise and... valak😍 it was love at first sight.

The Nun opens with one of the best opening sequences of the past decade, two nuns running from a mysterious presence one of them gets dragged in a dark room while the other one commits suicide by hanging herself from the window of the abbey now that's dope scene and.... from there on the entire narrative morphed into a pile of fecal matter, with little to no investment in character development, over emphasis on valak for money shots that were filled with bad cgi, cheap jump scares that one can in 2018 easily predict as soon as the sound drains out or sudden movements from characters, unnecessary one liner jokes during the finale (some one should beat the Disney out of the director and the supporting staff before they proceed to make a horror movie) and in the end valak makes frenchie (Jonas Bloquet)swallow a snake because we have to connect it to The Conjuring 2 😒... fuck. After the movie ended akash aka sky asked me kaisi thi I was like ya it was ok...... but my inner grammatically challenged vegan LA female protester🙍‍♀️ went:- Oh my god are u like 4 realll, are u like kidding me,wtf.. like literally happened like wtf this is like literally offensive on like a lot of way like literally....... 🦗🦗

Drunk texas cowboy:- BEAT IT BOY quit bitching around yapping around like the rest of em, you ain't no different boy you got none but none constructive to say do ya...

🤓well Mr.Sir man let me construct...

The movie is set in the year 1952 in romania which is not very long from the time when the second world war ended that is in 1945 and most of the European countries are recovering from it, almost everyone was hit hard because of the war, people lost their loved ones, their families and are will to do anything to get there lives back on track, moving back to the narrative sister irene (taissa farmiga) is one of those people, this movie should have kept its main focus on her and play around that idea of demon nun also valak should be just a demon presence in the abbey not a demonic nun, there should be a proper transition to it because as far as the facts go regarding the real Lorraine Warren, she saw a black long shadow in front of her in one of her visions and James Wan (director of conjuring 2) came up with the idea of valak the demonic nun so moving forward, irene is young and in those days young girls were encouraged or sometimes forced to join the church and become a nun, and here she looks pretty comfortable with being a nun since she is playing JURRASIC PARK with kids in school but from there on when she is asked to tag along with father burke on a case regarding the investigation of the suicide and also to ensure the integrity of the abbey she seems a bit hesitant because she hasn't even taken her final vows. Also they must have casted bonnie aaron(who plays valak) as one of the superior nun in the abbey who would act as one of the main character of the movie and as the movie progresses there should have been a demonic possession of one of the nuns in the abbey and father burke must lose here leading to a failed exorcism (now don't give this sequence more than 5mins because now there is so much originality one can provide to an exorcism scene since the best one was done in 1973 the exorcist😍) now this would break the moral of father and would completely shatter the faith of irene (taissa farmiga) this is the moment when shit starts getting real for her she would start questioning herself, her faith and is she really fit to become a nun, then from there she starts having conversations with Bonnie Aaron's regarding faith what's real evil and other matters.Bonnie's characters should be warm and welcoming and not a stuck up this would ease irene a bit but later on as the conversation keeps moving and starts getting personal it should getting ugly as at that moment bonnie is taken over by valak and valak is speaking through her this would be a good scare and would completely break irene of whatever is left of it, this would pave way for some good built up original sacres like the ones in conjuring 2, also I would keep the sequence when irene is tilted infront of the sack covered nuns that was a good sequence and then she should run towards the compound of the abbey (that compound should be the place where valak was first summoned not that underground room, you are shooting a movie in Romania for fucks sake exploit the surroundings) for the finale it should be a complete slaughter house she should receive complete stigmata from possessed bonnie who would talk to irene while she is tortured brutally and would quickly turn her upside down like a cross and she should collapse right there and then, and that is the time she should have a vision which would restore her faith and then she fights back bonnie of course dies but that's how bonnie becomes the demonic nun or valak gets fully transformed into a demonic nun. Now all this makes sense to me.

Vegan LA protestor:- that's all good but like what about this being a prequel to the conjuring like how would like that happen like....

OK fuck let valak make frenchie swallow a snake😒

Fucking snakes hate them.

[solartranslations]

VF Luca Chapter 1: Lucky Break

Surrounded by the mysterious fog, they fall down the stairs and into the darkness of the ship’s hull…

Luca: AHHHH!

(*collapse)

Luca: A-are you alright, Ojou-sama? …Are you hurt at all?

>Everything hurts…

>Luca, you’re heavy…

Felicita: …

Luca: I think you cushioned me when we fell down here…I’m sorry

Luca: Um, where does it hurt?

Luca: Huh!? Oh, sorry. No wonder the floor was soft and smelled so nice

(*whack)

Luca: Guh…I-I’m so sorry

(Skip the next dialogue choice box)

>Sorry, it was a joke

(No Amore)

>Just kidding. It didn’t hurt

(+10 Amore)

Luca: Ojou-sama, please don’t joke in times like this

Luca: I really was worried

Luca: You were kidding…Ojou-sama, please think of the time and place

Luca: But, I am relieved

Luca: It’s so dark…hold on one second

(*ignite)

~*Scene: VF Hold*~

Luca: This doesn’t give us much light, but it looks like we’re in the ship’s hold

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Daily: I’m glad Ojou-sama is alright

Place: This is a very interesting room

Pain: ……

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: We were just on the deck, so how…?

Felicita: ?

Luca: I can hear sound of the waves against the walls, so this should be the hull

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Person: She looks a little pale

Place: So that means we were thrown into the floor above this one when we fell from the stairs

Place: The water sounds close

Pain: ……

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: And, um…

Luca: This rooms looks more like an archive for books than a hold actually

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Person: She’s bound to get fed up with me

Place: A treasure trove!

Pain: ……

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: There’s lots of rare books now that I take a closer look…

Luca: …Hmm…It looks like this hold also serves as an alchemist’s personal room

Luca: I can recognize the types of books here. And…

Luca: There’s a blanket to use as bedding, apples for food, and a lamp

Luca: Oh, we can use the lamp

Felicita: !

Luca: Huh? Oh, my hat isn’t—

❤≪Luca≫ Seems shocked

Pleasure: But I always wear that hat!

Pleasure: It was a present from Ojou-sama

Pain: ……

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: …!

❤≪Luca≫ Can’t seem to handle it

Pain: Ouch!

Pain: I must have gotten some bruises

Daily: I hope Ojou-sama really is okay

Link: Something seems to be missing

>…Thanks for coming to save me

(+10 Amore)

>Where does it hurt?

(+30 Amore)

>I’m sorry I let the Tarocco get taken

(No Amore)

Luca: You don’t need to thank me for that…

Luca: Protecting you is my duty! But…

Luca: Considering what happened this afternoon, I’m a failure as your attendant

Luca: He knocked you unconscious with a hit, didn’t he…are you at all in pain?

Felicita: No

Luca: …That’s a relief

Luca: It’s quite embarrassing. I seem to have gotten quite a few bruises when I fell down here…

Felicita: *sigh*

Luca: I’ll be alright. I won’t be able to move around much for now, but it should heal if I get some rest

Luca: I have some of my special salve too

Felicita: Yeah

Luca: Huh? Oh, I can put it on myself, you don’t need to!

Luca: No, I was the one who let my mouth run loose and put you in danger

Luca: So I’m the one who should be apologizing

❤≪Luca≫ Can’t seem to handle it ❤≪Luca≫ Ojou-sama ❤≪Luca≫ Can’t seem to handle it

Pain: I’m so worthless as her attendant

Pain: I couldn’t even protect her from taking a hit

Daily: My life is spent alongside Ojou-sama

Link: Something seems to be missing

Pain: Today is not our day

Person: Having Ojou-sama worry about me is a bit of a lucky break

Link: Something seems to be missing

Pain: I should have just attacked first and asked questions later

Pain: I shouldn’t have let her go alone either

Link: Something seems to be missing

❤≪Luca≫ Ojou-sama ❤≪Luca≫ Seems nervous

Pleasure: It’s enough just seeing that smile of hers

Love: I can’t take this!

Pleasure: I did used to put salve on Ojou-sama

Pain: But…

Link: Something seems to be missing

Fukurota: Hoot

Luca: You were worried too, weren’t you, Fukurota

❤≪Luca≫ Can’t seem to handle it

Daily: She’s the one who would worry about Ojou-sama the most

Pain: Everything really hurts though

Pain: ……

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: …I am so sorry about today, Ojou-sama

Luca: I’m the one responsible for getting you into this situation

Luca: The two things in the Family that I’m supposed to protect are you and the Tarocco. It’s unforgivable that I allowed both to be taken

Luca: I act with that in mind…or I should have…

Luca: To say that he used you as a shield is just an excuse

Luca: We were able to reunite safely this time, but it might not go that easily the next

Luca: Because it took all I had to attach a tracker to you without being noticed at the time

❤≪Luca≫ Can’t seem to handle it

Pain: There won’t be a next time

Daily: Ojou-sama’s safety comes first above everything

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: I guess I really need to get stronger

>Let’s get stronger together

(+30 Amore)

>Luca, I want you to protect me

(+10 Amore)

>Yeah, do your best

(No Amore)

Luca: Y-Yes

Luca: The way you want to move forward together instead of letting people go at it on their own is one of your greatest virtues, Ojou-sama

Felicita: No

Luca: I really don’t think everyone is like that though?

Luca: It’s one of your best qualities, Felicita

Luca: And it’s something I really love about you

Luca: Please do let me protect you

Luca: Since you don’t usually indulge me like that, Felicita

Luca: It makes me happy

(Skip the next dialogue choice box)

Luca: …Yes

Luca: Could it be that you’re really mad about what happened today?

Felicita: No

Luca: No, I take it back

(Skip the next dialogue choice box)

❤≪Luca≫ Ojou-sama ❤≪Luca≫ Ojou-sama ❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Love: That’s what I love about her

Love: She hasn’t forgotten!

Link: Something seems to be missing

Love: Ojou-sama!!

Person: So cold!

Daily: No, this is normal for Ojou-sama

Link: Something seems to be missing

❤≪Luca≫ Ojou-sama

Pleasure: I love her so much!

>Stop it…

(No Amore)

>So embarrassing

(+10 Amore)

Felicita: *sigh*

Luca: You shouldn’t make that face either then, Felicita

Luca: You’ll make me forget all about my recent failures and fall for you even more

Luca: Oh, I’m sorry…

Felicita: …

Luca: Now that I think about it, what I said really was embarrassing

❤≪Luca≫ Seems happy ❤≪Luca≫ Seems nervous

Love: My reasoning is completely sound

Love: This isn’t the time!

Link: Something seems to be missing

Pleasure: But part of me wants to see her like this too

Love: I need to control myself

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: Ow ow…

❤≪Luca≫ Seems shocked

Pain: As soon as I relax is starts hurting again!

Pain: I guess that’s just what I get…

Link: Something seems to be missing

Felicita: !

Luca: Ahaha…it’s my injuries from this afternoon

Luca: I can still stand, but it’s embarrassing that you have to see me like this

Felicita: Yeah…

Fukurota: Hoot!

Luca: Ojou-sama, shall we quickly go over what happened today?

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Pain: What happened while we were separated?

Place: We need to share information with each other

Link: Something seems to be missing

>He was using alchemy too

>How did he…know about the stigmata…

Luca: He also used a sword, and his alchemy was quite skilled…

Luca: Usually people are better at one or the other, but he seemed skilled in both

Luca: He knew about the Tarocco, so I think it makes sense that he also knew about the stigmata

Luca: Since he called it a stigmata as soon as he saw Dante’s head…

Luca: I think that means he’s seen them before

Luca: But none of us have met him before

❤≪Luca≫ Seems happy ❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Love: I can’t forgive him for attacking Ojou-sama!

Daily: He has many talents

Link: Something seems to be missing

Arcana: It isn’t easy to gain knowledge of the Tarocco

Arcana: What could his motive be?

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: …Another thing I noticed…is that when we saw him again after leaving the mansion, he had a mark on his neck

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Arcana: That means he contracted with the Tarocco

Arcana: I wonder what powers he gained

Daily: I won’t let him lay a hand on Ojou-sama

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: When he held you hostage, I observed him as carefully as I could

Luca: He didn’t have anything on his neck then, but he has what appears to be a stigmata now

Luca: The results of our research show that the cards themselves choose their contractors

Luca: But he shouldn’t have been able to perform a contract ritual without knowing the method…

Luca: Based on that, along with the mysterious fog and the moving skeletons we saw on the deck, it seems that this ship is anything but ordinary

Felicita: …

Luca: Oh, it’s nothing that you need to be worried about, Ojou-sama

❤≪Luca≫ Can’t seem to handle it

Pleasure: That face…

Pain: I have to protect her this time!

Arcana: Now to recover the Tarocco

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: The rest of the Family is on the ship too, and…

Luca: I’m here too, okay?

Felicita: …

Luca: Huh? Am I really that unreliable…

❤≪Luca≫ Seems nervous

Pain: I understand why after my failure today

Love: But I do care about Ojou-sama more than anyone

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: It’s true that I haven’t been of use at all today

Luca: But, I’m sure that I can but you at ease better than anyone

Luca: Because I’m so familiar to you, everything feels ordinary when you look at me, right?

Luca: No matter where we are, or what the situation is…

>I can’t relax without you

(+10 Amore)

>Now if only we had some tea

(No Amore)

Luca: I can’t criticize Papa if I’m too protective of you though…

Luca: I do want you to be independent but

Luca: When you act vulnerable like that, I can’t help but feel happy

Luca: Yes, you’re right. It’s my job to make you tea every morning

Luca: So it is a little disappointing that I can’t

❤≪Luca≫ Ojou-sama ❤≪Luca≫ Seems excited

Love: Ojou-sama…

Link: Something seems to be missing

Love: That’s why we have to get off this ship as soon as we can

Link: Something seems to be missing

Felicita: !

Luca: It’s alright. We must have knocked some books off balance when we fell down the stairs

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Person: She does get scared easily

Place: But this really is a treasure trove

Arcana: Now to recover the Tarocco

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: If not for our situation, I would have liked to read every single one of these books in detail

Luca: Intellectual curiosity can’t be easily contained!

Felicita: …

Luca: Oh, um…I haven’t forgotten about our main objective, of course

❤≪Luca≫ Seems nervous

Person: What’s important is that she’s not scared

Place: But this really is a treasure trove

Arcana: Now to recover the Tarocco

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: But right now, we just don’t know what could happen…

Luca: A ghost ship covered with fog is something that only appears in legends or fairytales after all

Luca: By the way, Ojou-sama…

❤≪Luca≫ Seems concerned

Person: It’s understandable for her to be sleepy

Place: But this really is a treasure trove

Arcana: Now to recover the Tarocco

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: It looked like you were trying hard not to yawn while we were talking

Luca: You’re not hurt like I am, but you must be tired, right?

Luca: Hold on a minute. I’ll find something to block the door just in case

Luca: We might not be able to sleep very well like this, but let’s at least lie down for a little while

Luca: There’s a blanket here we can use too

Luca: Are you worried?

❤≪Luca≫ Ojou-sama

Pleasure: How cute

Love: Our ordeal is just beginning

Arcana: Now to recover the Tarocco

Link: Something seems to be missing

Luca: *laugh*, You always were scared of ghosts, Ojou-sama

Felicita: Yeah…

Luca: Then, let’s sleep together just like we used to

Luca: There aren’t any ghosts or monsters here, so don’t worry

Luca: …The place in my arms is reserved for only you

Luca: You’re not scared this way…right?

>I’m not scared, but I am nervous

(+20 Amore)

>Yeah….Just like old times

(No Amore)

Luca: Felicita…I don’t know what to do if you say something like that

Luca: Oh um. Nothing

Luca: Whenever you read a scary book and couldn’t sleep, or Mama was bedridden with a cold

Luca: You always hated being alone

Luca: Are you cold? You can use my part of the blanket if it isn’t enough

Luca: Well, you’re shivering a bit aren’t you? I’m not sure if you’re scared or cold though

Luca: …Sorry, was that mean of me?

Luca: This side of you really hasn’t changed at all…

Luca: I’m glad…

Luca: No, I’m just glad that you’re not alone in a dangerous situation like this

Luca: I was able to put “Ariadne’s String” on you this afternoon, but I didn’t get the chance to do so on the deck earlier

>You worked really hard to make that

(No Amore)

>You used to use it a lot when I went to play in the forest

(+20 Amore)

>You said it’s because I’d get lost…

(+10 Amore)

Luca: Worked hard…?

Luca: Oh, no, you’re right. It’s not something you can make very quickly but…

Luca: Because you’d always go hide somewhere whenever we went into the forest

Luca: Even when I tell you not to run because you might trip

Luca: You did, if I remember…

Luca: Because when you were young, you would sometimes hid in places where we couldn’t find you

Luca: We couldn’t find you even after night had fallen, so I thought up this method

Luca: But when I actually tried it out…

Luca: ……

Luca: …Hm?

Luca: “Ariadne’s String” is…so you won’t get lost…?

Luca: Oh, no, it’s nothing. What am I even saying?

Luca: I can’t really remember…it must be because I’m sleepy

Luca: Let’s sleep for today

Luca: Good night, Felicita

~*End of Scene*~

Special Voice obtained. It can be heard in the Profile section

(Continue to Luca Chapter 2)

(Back to Directory)

[basic-cable]

Fic Rec Bingo

I saw this making the rounds on Twitter and decided I’d like to try it (mostly because I enjoy going back through my list and reminiscing about the ones I love but haven’t read in a while), but didn’t feel like Twitter was the best place to post mine. I’ve got both Dreamwidth and Pillowfort, but I haven’t really used them. This is probably the kind of thing that should go there, so maybe I’ll post it there, too. We’ll see. 

Anyway, I only read in four fandoms, so maybe my recs will be boring to most people. But they’re good stories, and maybe there are even some people out there who haven’t read them. 

I don’t expect any reblogs or anything, but maybe people will see it and decide they’d like to take part, and then there will be more fic recs out there making the world a better place.

I put them under a cut because the descriptions and stuff take up so much space.

1. A fic you love without knowing the source material Take the Pieces and Build them Skywards by quarterturn Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 44,816 ** Explicit ** Character Death Gerard's not happy with his life, but that doesn't mean he's particularly thrilled when he wakes up dead. To add insult to injury, he finds out that instead of crossing over, he's been chosen to join the ranks of the grim reapers. Things get more complicated when he falls for one of the living, a waiter named Frank Iero. And just when everything finally seems to be falling into place, Frank's name shows up on the list of souls to be reaped. Loosely based on the TV show Dead Like Me.

I don’t know anything about the TV show Dead Like Me; when I first read this fic in 2009, I had never even heard of it. I’ve wondered since then if I like it even better because I don’t know anything about the source material, but I’ll never know.It made me laugh and cry; it’s an emotional roller coaster, and I love it.

2. A fic with a premise that shouldn’t work but does

An Inexplicable Occurrence of Angels by stele3

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 35,192 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

I've messed with the band timeline, clearly. This is set in summer of 2005... but it ain't the Summer of Like. This is a story about second chances and gutting through your own failures, but never letting them defeat you. Take that, bitches.

Frank (Frank!) is a literal angel, okay, but there is not a thing I don’t love about this story. It’s angsty but still manages to be cute and charming as fuck, and the characterization is great.

3. A fic you’ve reread several times

Seeds by thesardine

Sherlock ** Gen, supposedly ** 5,475 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

In a fit of boredom Sherlock plants some seeds, may or may not eat one cracker, and definitely waxes dramatic on the sofa for a while.

Sherlock struggles with a bit of depression caused by boredom, and accidentally discovers a hobby he slowly learns to allow himself to enjoy. I love this a lot; the author takes us into Sherlock’s headspace, so you’re painfully aware just how much he needs a distraction, and how much better off he is with John in his life.

4. A fic you still remember many years later

In Care Of by Fangs_Fawn

Harry Potter ** Gen ** 45,319 ** PG-13 ** Child Abuse

During the summer before sixth year, Harry finds an injured bat in the garden and decides to try to heal it...and an unwilling Snape learns just what kind of a person Harry Potter really is.

Between the Dursleys getting what’s coming to them, and the redemption of Harry, Snape, and Dumbledore in each others’ eyes, this story has really stuck with me through the years.

5. A comfort fic

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 203,273 ** Mature ** No Warnings

The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street.

Thousands of words of fluff. Literally. There’s not a lot of conflict in this story, which makes it a great comfort fic when your mind is too busy or real life is too depressing.

6. A cathartic fic

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 157,369 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

"Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?"

Post-Reichenbach John is walking the line between fantasy and reality, choosing to stay with the Sherlock in his head rather than deal with the reality where he no longer exists. He eventually manages to attempt a normal life, but he’s bored and basically sleepwalking through his days, so when Sherlock finally reveals himself, it’s the best kind of relief. They go after the last remnants of Moriarty’s web, in hopes of a second chance at the life they should have had together.

7. A fic you’d print and put on your bookshelf

Saving Sherlock Holmes by earlgreytea68

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John Mycroft/Greg ** 139,494 ** Mature ** Underage

Okay. So. This was literally supposed to be, like, three or four chapters as a prologue to the show. Sort of a "what happened in the Holmes childhoods to make them the way they are today." That's why it's set in the time period it is, because I thought I was eventually going to leave them to go on to the show. And then...I got a bit carried away and thought, Here I have established the two young Holmes boys. Now what happens if, instead of making them wait twenty years, I give them everything they need to fix themselves right now? Forty-three chapters later, you have this story.

To be honest, I would like to have most of my favorite fics in book form, with actual pages, that I could pluck from my actual shelf and sit and read without the glare of a screen between us. But I do enjoy the feel of this story, and I do believe it would make a good actual book.

8. A fic you associate with a song

Unholyverse by bexless

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 186,764 ** Explicit ** Violence & Character Death

“He thinks I have stigmata,” Frank said, because what the fucking hell, it couldn’t get any worse. He might as well just lay it out.

“Oh, well,” said Brian into his hands. “Of course.”

Every time I so much as think about this series, MCR’s Heaven Help Us starts playing in my head.

9. A fic that inspires you

Turn by Saras_Girl

Harry Potter ** Harry/Draco ** 306,708 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Frankly, I love every single thing this author has ever churned out, but this one is my very favorite. Harry gets a glimpse into what his life could have been, and a chance to make big changes he desperately needs. 

10. A fic that brought you on board a new ship

So, So Fucked by Anonymous

Bandom ** Pete/Patrick ** 12,565 ** Mature ** No Warnings

Pete accidentally "outs" himself and Patrick on Good Morning America. Only problem? They're not gay. What now?

I was reading strictly in Harry Potter at the time, and wasn’t interested in bandom at all, but my best friend was doing betas for someone who was writing in bandom, and she ended up getting into it and then wrote this one, and kept calling me about it to bounce ideas around, and the story was so cute, and Pete and Patrick were so cute, and I suddenly found myself totally invested. Honestly I think it may have been one of the best things that ever happened to me.

11. A fic you wish could be a movie

The Anatomy of a Fall by novembersmith

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 107,525 ** Explicit ** Violence & Character Death

The unholy union of a high school AU and a ghost story. Gerard's life takes a strange turn when his family moves to a small town in Vermont and he discovers the locals aren't all what they seem to be. Also includes: unexpected nature walks, murder, pining, improper treatment of crime scenes, a number of bone-related puns, high school bullies, and a short-range shrub named Ferdinand.

This story has excellent imagery that I think would work really well on the big screen. Plus I can’t even hear the name of it without my heart doing flip-flops.

12. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

Seven ficlets for Valentine’s Day Part VII by RedOrchid

Bandom ** GSF ** 1,042 ** Mature? ** No Warnings

Panic-as-cleaning-equipment-AU Valentine's Day GSF.

I technically don’t have a fic for this bingo square, but this one comes close, I guess. The author was already in my larger circle of friends, but we didn’t actually talk to each other? She wrote this crack ficlet around the same time we started talking to each other more, and I still vividly remember it because of the genius involved in turning band boys into literal cleaning equipment. The line “Ryan bristled” has stuck with me to this day.

13. free space

Elf ‘Verse by mokuyoubi

Bandom ** GSF ** 103,247 ** Explicit ** Underage

Modern AU where Ryan is a famous poet, and he and Spencer are fiercely private and insular and stupidly co-dependent until Jon shows up and effortlessly breaks down all their walls.

Or

Wherein Brendon and Frank are Christmas elves who, inspired by Will Farrell movies, venture into the real world to become rock stars. Or something of that nature.

I’ve got a lot of love for this universe for various reasons, but it’s also fun and heartwarming and honestly, I don’t really need anything else.

14. A fic you’ve gushed about irl

Harry Potter and the Battle of Wills by Jocelyn (and her mum)

Harry Potter ** Mostly Gen ** 137,385 ** Basically PG-13 ** Character Death

Harry mourns his godfather as the war finally begins in earnest, bringing tragedy and new struggles for all those on the side of Good. If they hope to win, all quarrels must be set aside, new alliances must be forged, and Harry Potter must find the courage to face down dark wizards, his own emotions, and a destiny he did not choose. Snape blows his cover as a spy to save Harry from Voldemort.

This begins after Order of the Phoenix, and the story and characters read more like canon than any other HP fic I’ve read, so because of that and because it’s so, so good, I like to rec this one to people who are new to fandom.

15. A fic you associate with a place

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi

Harry Potter ** Harry/Draco ** 57,582 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

Wiltshire! I’ve never actually been there, but this author is really good about details. The story is also lovely and funny.

16. A fic that made you gasp out loud

Home is a Name by Arsenic

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 39,314 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

MCR Clinic of Love. Companion fic to Wednesday Night Boys.

Okay, so this one is actually a sequel, and the first installment, Wednesday Night Boys, should 100% be read first. It must be said, though, that while the sequel doesn’t have any warnings, Wednesday Night Boys is about the Panic! kids as prostitutes, and has warnings for graphic violence, rape/non-con, and underage sex. The MCR guys work at the free clinic, and Home is a Name focuses on them. They’re honestly both gorgeous stories.

17. A fic you found at the right time

real or not real by thearkdelinquents

Anne with an E ** Anne/Gilbert ** 11,587 ** PG ** No Warnings

“I could do it.” Gilbert said, looking straight ahead.

Anne stopped. “What?”

He turned to look at her; they were just outside Green Gables now. “I could do it. I could court you.”

“What- We- You- I- You don’t like me like that.” Anne sputtered.

Gilbert smirked at her. “Well we could pretend. I could court you and be your fake boyfriend.”

For one of the few times in her life, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was speechless.

-

a fake dating fic but it's basically just a shirbert To All The Boys I Loved Before au.

I really, really loved Anne with an E. When the final season was released, I spent a weekend binge-watching the entire show, and then it was over and I was bereft, so I decided to see what was available on Ao3, and I found this, and it was exactly what I needed. And now I have another fandom.

18. A fic that you would read fic of

Left by lifeonmars

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 45,153 ** Mature ** No Warnings

John Watson is left-handed.

He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

In this universe, all right-handed people have some kind of power, or ‘knack’, most of which are mild and easily categorized. Sherlock’s is rare and believed to be the only one like it in the world. John is left-handed, part of the 10% of the population without a knack. I would read all kinds of fics of this fic.

19. A fic that made you laugh out loud

What to do When Your Flatmate is Homicidal by hyacinth_sky747

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 58,650 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Sherlock takes Molly's advice when dealing with his dangerous flatmate.

Heartwarming and hilarious. I laughed a lot.

20. A fic with a line (or two) that you’ve memorised by heart

A Necessary Requirement by Bexless

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 3,759 ** Mature ** No Warnings

Right, here is the extremely silly storylet I wrote BY HAND on holiday. On PAPER. With a PEN. My god. The things I do when I'm separated from my beloved net. It is set during the Summer of Like (Warped '05, for those of you who don't know) and is basically a product of my reaction to various pictures of Gerard groping himself on stage, which led to me obsessing about his dick and what it might look like. As usual, I chose to work this obsession out through Frank.

This fic could have gone to multiple other squares, but I am not usually the kind of person who can quote lines from things, and I have many lines from this story committed to memory. I’ve read it multiple times, because I read it every time I need a pick-me-up or a good laugh. Or if I’ve read something scary and I need something lighter before I can actually get up and move around my house...

21. A fic that gave you butterflies

Pretty Much A Sex God by adellyna

Bandom ** Spencer/Jon ** 3,985 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

Jon and Spencer’s first date.

The Jon in this story is so soft and warm and fluffy and his character makes my heart and stomach do weird things.

22. A fic that embodies something you value in life

A Marauder’s Plan by CatsAreCool (Rachel500)

Harry Potter ** Harry/Hermione ** 865,520 ** PG13 ** Violence/Death/Underage

What if Sirius decided to stay in England and deliver on his promise to raise Harry instead of hiding somewhere sunny? Changes abound with that one decision...

ALSO

Harry’s New Home by kbinnz

Harry Potter ** Gen ** 318,389 ** PG-13 ** Abuse

One lonely little boy. One snarky, grumpy git. When the safety of one was entrusted to the other, everyone knew this was not going to turn out well... Or was it? AU, sequel to "Harry's First Detention". 

In these two stories, Sirius and Severus throw everything they have into creating the best possible world for Harry, as he is their number one priority, because that is exactly how parenthood should be. 

23. A favourite AU

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 156,714 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?

This has got quite a bit of schmoop, which isn’t usually my thing, but this story is so, so good, and I always love stories that describe Sherlock realizing and appreciating how extraordinary John is.

24. A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading

Collared by VelvetMace

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 83,028 ** Explicit ** Violence & Rape/Non-Con

In a world where the British Empire is still strong and slavery is her economic backbone, John has become a terrorist for the abolitionist movement. He is caught by Mycroft, enslaved, and given to Sherlock for training. The goal: To test a new kind of slave collar with the power to break even the strongest willed fighter. One that will make even John learn to love being a slave.

Dubious consent, and humiliation. I remember staying up very late reading this one, even though I had to work early the next morning. I just couldn’t put it down. 

25. A fic that made you feel seen

Buy Handmade by jjtaylor

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 18,755 ** Mature ** No Warnings

He knows something else is going to happen; his life isn't always going to be this. He just doesn't know what has to happen for that change to come, for him to wake up and become an artist with an Etsy page and a home studio, and to never have to see a cubicle again.

This is the story of my heart. I have felt Frankie’s feelings and thought his thoughts, and I love that he does something about it, and I love Gerard so, so much. I first read this in 2009, and my love for it has never wavered. I could have used this one for a good half of the bingo squares, but it’s the only one that could go here.

[lapeaudelamemoire]

Log/log: Yesterday: Finished off Carver's poems in Fires. Am yet to acquire his Collected Poems but am not too hurried to do so. Watched And Then There Were None (1945), based off Agatha Christie's novel (god, how old is she and when were her writings???). This morning: Boyfriend woke up to his [motor]bike having been attempted to be stolen; such that the ignition no longer starts up. It'll have to be towed. Also accidentally stabbed him in the eye with my nail. Now I know what it's like - approximately - to feel my finger/nail go into an eye. Read one more essay out of Stigmata - Mamãe, disse ele. Am glad I got the hardcover copy. I believe this may be a first edition...? Discovered yesterday that after asking for it at a bookshop in the city that they have since ordered it and now have a copy of it in stock on the shelf; and also that another bookshop I asked at, also in the city, thought they might order it/one in anyhow after I'd asked. Singlehandedly bringing Cixous to Melbourne, although unacknowledged... Recently been on a big essay binge. My copy of Man's Search for Meaning by Frankl arrived yesterday, which I shall begin either now or after finishing the essays in Stigmata. Bit of a backtrack, but woke up at half past 3 in the morning today; spent two hours scrolling through notes on a post that was a set of screenshots from Freaks and Geeks (which I have not watched) regarding a scene of Kerouac's On The Road being given criticism. Knew it was Kerouac they were talking about as soon as I saw the first few lines. Have not read On The Road, but have read Tristessa, years ago, which I did as a foray into Kerouac without the commitment to a larger book. I remember thinking it was... interesting - and maybe even that I had a slight positive feeling for it - but also that I completely concur with the breakdown in the post I saw today about his writing. I don't think he's great, he is, from this previous encounter, occasionally readable, but I don't know if I would say it was entirely enjoyable. Let's say that if On The Road is shit, then Tristessa is slightly more palatable shit. Or like this: it's kind of bad pizza, but then, you ordered pizza, and you can't say it's great or even good, and okay, it's bad pizza, but maybe not inedible, but, still, it's pizza, even if it's the crappy $5 frozen shit from the supermarket that tastes like cardboard and the ham is definitely fake. You know? (God knows the 'national dish of Norway' is often said to be Grandiosa pizza...) It's a book. It's okay. It's not good and it's maybe more bad than good but it's further up the scale from abysmal than it is further from 'readable'. I didn't throw it out the moment I finished it. That's what I can say about it. There is so much wrong in general with the Beat generation writers, and arguably also the generation that preceded them - I am thinking of Fitzgerald - and in general a good lot of the stuffy recycled regurgitated classics of the white male canon. But sincerely, as I scrolled through the notes and comments and impassioned shrieks of agreement, there was also mention made of books like Salinger's Catcher in the Rye (whiny boy protag who may well have been an adolescent prototype of 'incel'); Huckleberry Finn and Twain; Hemingway; the occasional Steinbeck (Grapes of Wrath was the one mentioned); Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby made an appearance; as did Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird; and certainly not to leave out Burroughs' Naked Lunch; and also reference to Hunter S. Thompson or Faulkner. The Beat Generation, no matter what it did as countering mainstream culture at the time, I cannot say was, in my opinion, any much better than the 1950s in general. Misogyny and general abusiveness to women is rampant and sexism was just as deep in that counterculture as it was in the mainstream. Some things and some despisings go beyond 'mainstream' and 'counterculture'. Its leaders were terrible people, in my opinion, for the most part - and here is the thing that has decided for me that Ginsberg is as good as thrown out from my reading forever: "Ginsberg was a supporter and member of North American Man/Boy Love Association (NAMBLA), a pedophilia and pederasty advocacy organization in the United States that works to abolish age of consent laws and legalize sexual relations between adults and children,[98] saying that "Attacks on NAMBLA stink of politics, witchhunting for profit, humorlessness, vanity, anger and ignorance ... I'm a member of NAMBLA, because I love boys too — everybody does, who has a little humanity." In "Thoughts on NAMBLA", a 1994 essay published in the collection Deliberate Prose, Ginsberg stated, "NAMBLA's a forum for reform of those laws on youthful sexuality which members deem oppressive, a discussion society not a sex club. I joined NAMBLA in defense of free speech." In 1994, Ginsberg appeared in a documentary on NAMBLA called Chicken Hawk: Men Who Love Boys (playing on the gay male slang term "Chickenhawk"), in which he read a "graphic ode to youth"." There was and still is now a War On Drugs - and perhaps at the time it was just an act of rebellion, but the Beats certainly glorified drug-use - yet when we talk about influences on people towards drug abuse, somehow the Beats don't get brought up. Their work, almost all of it drug-fuelled and glorifying sex, drugs, and banging their way through women across America in the form of a never-ending road trip ignoring all responsibility, is held up as literary canon and taught in schools. It cannot be that this incongruence is not glaringly disparate. The fact is that the Beat Generation paved the way not only for the 60's hippie culture or some 'youthful rebellion' - not to mention that these men 'rebelled' their way into middle age and further along, even till death, still getting with women way younger than they were, by the way - but it also almost definitely continued the traditions of glorifying male dominance and carelessness and basically deadbeat-ness (Beatnik? more like Deadbeatnix/DeadBeat Generation) of men royally fucking over women and then blagging about it shamelessly. Influential, yes. Deepening the groove of arseholery and woman-hating/woman-disrespecting and self-aggrandisation? Also yes. If we really want to talk about what we talk about today - about how and wherefrom our men become so entitled and so self-indulgent, the Beats were less than three generations ago. But besides all of that, the writing and work itself is often seriously mediocre. But again, the pizza metaphor - just because it's edible and occasionally even palatable or enjoyable in the right mood or at certain times (hmm, this slice is less bad than the others!), or even if that's exactly what you want at the time, doesn't mean it's good, or even great, no matter how hungry you may be. Sometimes I want to eat crap food. That doesn't make the food any less crap. Maybe this is a bad way of judging literature, but if I read a book and can't remember very much from it or even recall how I felt about it, or if it doesn't stay with me or I didn't feel much at all about it - it's probably not a good book. There are other possibilities, like that it simply wasn't for me, or I didn't read it properly, or I wasn't ready for it, but usually, a piece of art should make you feel something. Good art, anyway. I genuinely don't feel very much or was moved by The Great Gatsby, which I read twice. I also don't remember too much about The Old Man and the Sea, except that it's about an old man fishing a giant marlin out on the sea, and it's supposed to be some metaphor for or likened/akin to some spirituality. I know I've read Burroughs' Junky, which I do remember some as saying is better than Naked Lunch, which I never got around to reading. I've also read most of Fitzgerald's oeuvre, and the only one that really made an impression (which is here to say an inkling as the following) and which I liked best out of them all but which I cannot really remember anything about besides that, was Tender is the Night. I've also read Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, and have attempted to start The Grapes of Wrath perhaps twice. I also know I've been read the first quarter or third or half - I don't know where it stopped - of Ginsberg's Howl, and that I subsequently read the poem in its entirety, and there was something about Angel(s)! Angel(s)! (?) in it. And lastly I read To Kill A Mockingbird before I even turned 13, and I recall little to nothing at all of it, except knowing that it was dense and perhaps too much so for the age I was at the time. But then consider the fact that of Fitzgerald and a good few of the other authors mentioned here, good chunks of their work were stolen and plagiarised from their wives, whom they unsurprisingly but no less heartbreakingly (for the women) treated terribly. Kerouac's famed concept of having written On The Road in three weeks in a frantic rush while high is misinformation perpetuated by the author himself; it was revised many times over a period of years. Even in their film depictions they are all craze and machismo and self-onanistic whilst being egged on by their peers. I am also suspicious of Tom Wolfe because of similar feelings and depictions, but have not read anything of him to say for sure. If we can be aware of and ethical about the media that we consume and choose to cut out abusers, who, on the coattails of their own masturbatory puffing up and pomp encouraged by their inbred 'boys' club', ride their names like phallic dildoes to haze us from their utter mediocrity, then surely these men must go. If we care about good literature, and good art, and good conscience, then they must go. By continuing not only to read them uncritically and honestly but to even go so far as to teach this drivel in school, it is inviting boys to attempt to emulate them. Of course, there is the argument to be made that one must find a connection in their work or to meet them at their own level. But let's be quite honest: only if we were 'junkies', that is to say, having problems with drug addiction, an identity which we look immensely down upon in society, would we be 'on the same level' with which to meet these men on. I cannot imagine any other way of consuming the wide-eyed alacrity of bullet-like machine-gunnery mix of 'spiritualism' combined with gross overt sexual conquesting and self-exaggeration that is the Beats' unformed and certainly unchecked rapacity. Perhaps I am being narrow-minded. But it is not enough to force questionable (in quality but in general the term does apply) literature upon us but also that which is misogynistic, racist, morally-unkempt, abusive, and also which is written by pedophilic and predatory white men? In Mandarin there is an idiom that, when translated, is "Who, near ink, be blackened.' I am not saying Never read these people. Nor am I saying there is absolutely no merit in what does exist in their output wholesale. But that they are upheld with the sincerity and conviction in their status as 'classics' really begs the question: Is this what we aspire to? Is this really representative of what we want and who we want to be, or are? And of course, one must judge for oneself these things, but know what they are; see clear.