#and wondering if there’s a way to put out a lifetime’s worth of artwork and creation so that i can get this stupid hopeless life over with

[teethgnashing]

i need to stop talking abt body image issues with people who don’t have a double chin

[aishangotome]

Elbert Greetia: Chapter 5

Chapter 4 Premium Story

♡———♡

What a beautiful child. Golden hair just like his mother.

Maid: Like an angel. Look at those jewel-like eyes.

Others: Beauty as if born to be happy.

It seemed that being "beautiful" was a condition for happiness.

Everyone praised his beauty and laughed – except for one person.

(With this much, it will surely be alright)

(So, smile–)

–Don't look at me with such sad eyes.

Maid's Voice: Kyaaaah!! Someone, someone come–!!!

–It's not enough yet. I have to collect more, more.

Something that matches the happiness I've taken away.

The most beautiful thing in this world–

Elbert: ……gh, ……ha……ha……

He wakes up in bed, gasping for air like someone surfacing from the depths of the sea.

Elbert: ……ha…………

It's still dark outside the window, and the clock shows that only two hours have passed since he fell asleep.

Elbert: .............

He looks down at his hand, and there it is, unchanged from before he slept, the seashell she gave him.

He's been clutching it in his hand ever since he received it on that beach.

Elbert: .............

He tries to place it on the bedside chest– but after hesitating for several seconds, he pulls out a random box from the chest drawer and puts the seashell inside.

He chooses a pen from among many and scribbles on the back of a postcard with some scenery on it.

Elbert: ……ha……

He gently places the postcard in the box and sinks back into bed.

-

Several days after the day Elbert took me to the sea–

Elbert: Kate…… Are you alright?

Kate: I'm a little nervous…… but I'm alright.

Alfons: That's not very convincing. You're so stiff.

Kate: Wah!?

Alfons: Oh my, I just lightly stroked your back… this is new.

Elbert: Al, don't.

Alfons: Yes, yes.

We were on our way to a party for art collectors to contact the "Bernard Trading Company."

(The "Bernard Trading Company" is the criminal organization that attacked the inn where Daisy worked.)

(It's hard not to be nervous when I think I might come into contact with one of their members...)

Elbert: ...It's alright.

Elbert whispered, glancing at me as I struggled to relax.

Elbert: Even if something happens… I won't let you get hurt.

(Elbert...)

Kate: ...Thank you.

(I can't let myself hinder their mission.)

(I have to be strong.)

Today, Elbert and I were supposed to act as collectors, with Alfons as our attendant.

The goal for today is to become close to the art dealer hosting the event, who seems to be a member of the trading company, through the purchase of goods.

(If we're suspected before we even carry out the plan, it's over.)

Everything I'm wearing today was bought for me by Elbert the other day, and even the smallest accessory is worth more than I could ever earn in my lifetime.

(But... just for today, I'll pretend to be a lady who deserves to wear these things.)

Kate: I'm fine now. Let's go.

Elbert: ..........

Alfons: Hehe... You're quite a gutsy little robin, aren't you?

As I followed the two of them through the entrance, I could feel the eyes of everyone around me focused on us.

Woman with Stars: Oh... There you are. How beautiful...!

Priest with Glasses: I can only sigh... Those sapphire-blue eyes.

Curly Haired Girl: Haa... Surely no artwork I see today can compare to him.

–I can't help but overhear the whispers of the people.

The gazes clinging to Elbert and the sighs of admiration never cease.

Elbert: ..........

With every compliment I hear, with every step we take up the stairs... Elbert's expression clearly starts to darken.

Alfons: You look terrible already. El, want to take a break?

Elbert: No... I'm fine.

(He doesn't look fine at all...)

Kate: Is there... anything you need?

Elbert: ...You.

Kate: Huh?

Elbert: ...Just being here is enough.

(...He really doesn't seem well.)

(It's no wonder he's tired of being treated like a piece of art.)

Elbert's expression was more downcast than I could have imagined.

(I hope he's okay...)

-

–The hall, sparkling with chandeliers, was filled with numerous works of art.

(Wow... It's like a museum.)

Paintings, plaster statues, sculptures... The sheer number of artworks is dazzling.

But knowing that these might have been collected through illegal means, I couldn't simply be impressed.

Elderly Gentleman: Ah, Elbert. I've been waiting for you.

Lady with White Hair: My, my, what a beautiful face as always. I could just put you on display and admire you.

Lady with Green Eyes: I've missed you, Elbert!

Elbert: ..........

Suddenly, people who seemed to be Elbert's acquaintances gathered around us.

Lively conversation immediately broke out, and I distanced myself a little from Elbert.

Kate: He's popular, isn't he?

Alfons: ...Yes.

I exchanged a few words with Alfons in a low voice.

It was a short reply for Alfons, who is usually talkative, which bothered me a little...

(But I'm a little relieved that Elbert has some acquaintances here.)

(I hope he cheers up as he talks to them, even though he seems to be feeling down.)

Relieved, I was watching Elbert and the others when–

Elderly Gentleman: It's been years since I've gazed at you like this. Let me see your face better.

The gentleman, with an air of dignity, cupped Elbert's cheeks with both hands.

They were so close, as if he were about to kiss him–.

(...What...?)

Elbert said nothing. He didn't resist.

He just let the man do as he pleased.

Elderly Gentleman: Oh, don't look away. Look at me, Elbert.

Elbert: ...Yes.

It was clear to me that this was not a normal greeting.

The elderly gentleman moved Elbert's face from side to side, admiring him as if checking the workmanship of a doll.

Elderly Gentleman: As I thought, there is no one else as beautiful as you in this world.

Lady with Green Eyes: Elbert, let me see you too. ...Oh my, are you a little sleep-deprived?

Elbert: ...I'm fine.

Lady with White Hair: Are you sure? There's nothing so scary that you can't sleep? I'll sing you a lullaby again.

Elbert: ...Thank you.

(Is this... "normal"?)

Elbert's body was being touched by everyone in turn, with words of concern for his well-being.

As if to show him off to everyone around.

Even with a badly hurt expression, Elbert didn't try to avoid their hands.

Kate: Um, Alfons...

Alfons: Yes?

I looked up at him for help, but all I got was a calm voice.

Kate: ...I might be overstepping, but shouldn't we stop that?

Alfons: If you wish to do so, feel free. I won't interfere.

Alfons: However, the scene we are witnessing is not new to El.

Kate: ...This is a daily occurrence?

My voice trembled with fear.

Alfons didn't answer, only forming a faint smile with his lips.

Alfons: In any case, don't forget "our position."

Alfons: An attendant cannot interfere unless ordered to do so by their master.

(I see... Alfons is officially in the position of an attendant today.)

(So the only one who can stop this situation is me...?)

Elbert: .............

I looked at Elbert again, and he was still standing there, pale-faced.

(He looks hurt... but why?)

I could hear the voices of the people who had been admiring Elbert from a short distance away.

Woman with a Message: ...What's with those people? Are they trying to show him off to us?

Gentleman with Glasses: Well, I understand the feeling. If I were allowed, I'd love to admire him up close too.

Lady with Curly Hair: If I could touch that skin, I'd pay my entire fortune... I wonder how I could get closer to him.

–My heart chilled.

I was saddened by those words, as if they thought of Elbert as nothing more than a jewel or an accessory.

(If I stay in this place, I'll go crazy–)

(Elbert must be feeling it even more than me...)

Kate: Alfons...

Alfons: Yes?

Kate: I'll try not to interfere with the mission as much as possible, so–

Before I could finish speaking, my feet stepped forward.

I gently touched Elbert's elbow from behind, as if asking for an escort.

Kate: Lord Elbert, the host doesn't seem to be here yet... Would you like to step outside for a bit?

Elbert: ...Kate.

His deep, ocean-like eyes captured mine.

But those eyes were hollow, as if his heart had been dulled.

Kate: Um, well... You look a little pale, so I thought some fresh air might do you good.

Lady with Green Eyes: Excuse me, who are you? Elbert, is she a new maid or something?

Lady with Green Eyes: If so... I'm sorry, but her dress is crying. It doesn't suit her manners.

Elderly Gentleman: Haha, don't be so harsh, you'll make her cry.

Elderly Gentleman: You see, we've known Elbert for a long time. Would you mind not interfering?

I felt piercing gazes from the three people surrounding Elbert and from everyone else around.

(But...)

I couldn't leave Elbert, who was pale, like this.

Elderly Gentleman: Are you listening, girl?

Kate: !

He grabbed my chin and roughly forced my face up.

Elderly Gentleman: It's troubling, you see. When a worthless pebble like you is displayed in the same showcase as a treasure.

Lady with White Hair: Indeed... It ruins the aesthetic.

Their heartless words grated on my heart.

(I know better than anyone that I don't belong here.)

(But... what these people are doing is even more shameful.)

Elderly Gentleman: What's with that look in your eyes?

The gentleman's voice was filled with anger, sending a shiver down my spine. But–

Elbert: ...Would you please stop?

The room fell silent at Elbert's words.

Elbert: Touching her, criticizing her... Please stop.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 6

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[tooweirdforyou]

Lunar New Year » Teases

Trafalgar D. Water Law x Reader

Summary » Law is being the typical, cocky and teasing ass. But, he’s a lovable asshole, who secretly cares for you.

note : modern! AU, reader works at a cafe :p, friends to lovers(?)

also, some of these might seem a little rushed. And they are. lol — this is the only one I’ll post, accept maybe one on actual lunar year-

-

“Thank you, please come again!”

Waving goodbye to another customer, you stretch your arms and sigh. “Another busy day of business.” You sang and Penguin chuckles beside you, turning the open sign to closed.

“It makes sense today was a little busier. Don’t you know what day it is?”

“How could I forget, with the amount of envelopes we’ve received from customers?” Gesturing to the pile of stacked red envelopes on the counter behind the register, Shachi and Penguin laugh once more.

“It’s a good thing we decided to open on New Years though, I heard almost every store is closed.” Shachi says, taking off his apron and hanging it up.

You began doing the same, smiling at the thought. Sure, you were exhausted but the amount of customers that came in meant tons of cash, so it was worth it.

“Oh, Shachi! Did you get a personal red envelope from anyone?” Penguin asks, and Shachi shrugs. “Besides my parents and Bepo, I don’t think so. Did you?”

“Not yet, but I heard Boa Hancock has a personal envelope and hasn’t given it to anyone yet.” Penguin grins with a small pink blush across his cheeks, and his words shocked Shachi. “Really? No way!”

Unable to help yourself from overhearing, you laugh lightly. “Sorry, boys. I heard she’s giving it to some guy named Luffy. The one with the straw hat, remember? He barged in here one day, asking for meat with his brothers.”

The two began to sulk at you. “Seriously?.. how lucky..”

Rolling your eyes, you glance at the time. Seeing the clock strike eight, you grin a bit.

You dust your clothes and made sure everything was neat in your area before grabbing your things that you needed.

“Alright, I’m heading out for the night. I’ll see you both in a couple of days. Remember to lock up!”

Penguin nods sullenly before perking up, noticing you already heading for the door. “Wait, aren’t you going to grab some of the envelopes?”

Understanding what he meant, you shrug. “I’ll pick up my share later on. Go ahead and take as many as you two want though.”

With that, you quickly open the door and head out, waving to the two of them before leaving completely.

“Wonder what’s the rush.” Shachi comments and Penguin shrugs, beginning to sweep the shop while Shachi began putting chairs away.

-

“No way, sold out already?”

Staring at the window display, your shoulders dropped in disappointment at the large sign that signaled the status of the item you’ve been waiting all day for.

Your lips slowly curled into a pout, clearly upset at not being able to be one of the many people who were able to get a copy of the limited edition remake of Sora, Warrior of the Sea comic series.

It was a once in a lifetime situation, considering there were only a few copies of the remake, since it included extra scenes and artwork.

“I can’t believe it..”

“What a pity.”

Whirling your head around to see Law leaning against the wall of the building, a particular book in hand.

“Law? What do you want?.. and is that-!”

“How cruel. I stood here waiting for you to arrive, knowing you’d be upset that it was sold out.” Law states, feigning a look of hurt as he stands up straight.

You furrow your brows at him, not at him for the amount of time it was sold out, but the fact that he actually stood there for as long it was sold out and you arrived.

“What, so you waited for me to laugh in my face about it?”

You never particularly liked Law but you didn’t hate him either. He was attractive yes, but he often got on your nerves with his teasing attitude, his dumb ass smirk, etc.

“Do you think so low about me all the time? It hurts my feelings.” Law hums, making his way towards you as he swung the book around a bit in his hand.

You roll your eyes and sighed. “Right.. well, I guess I’ll get going then. I left the cafe just to find it was worth nothing so.. I better get back to help Penguin and Shachi clean up..” you mumble, clearing your throat and turned around.

Law hums as he stops behind you. “Leaving already? I haven’t even gotten to offer you the book yet.”

Your eyes widen as you whirl around excitedly. “Wait, really?!”

The male closes his eyes with a innocent smile. “Of course. Feel free to take it.” You didn’t even question him as you quickly went to reach for your book eagerly, only to nearly trip in the process when Law pulled away.

He then held it up his head, smirking teasingly. “It’s right here, [Name]-ya. Just reach for it.” Law hums, waving the comic book in the air.

You sent him a small scowl as you reach up for the book once more, just for him to grab your wrist and roughly pull you into his chest,

Lips now right next to your ear, Law hums.

“If you wanted me that badly, you could’ve just asked.”

The unexpected action was enough to bring the heat up to your cheeks, quickly reaching the tips of your ears. “As if!”

Seeing your visible blush was enough to satisfy him, an amused smile spreading across his lips before pulling away from you.

Law turns around, back facing you as he checks the first page of the comic in his hand for a brief moment.

Reassured what was on the front page, he closed it and turned back to face you.

Smirking lightly, Law held out the book for you, before a genuine small smile was seen from him. “Here.”

You eyed him suspiciously for a minute before a wide grin came over you, and you eagerly took the book from him. “Thanks, Law!”

The pink tint of your cheeks and excited smile on your lips made Law’s heart skip a beat, but he wouldn’t admit it.

The male only nods before turning away, his hand up with a wave. “See you around. Happy Lunar Year.”

With that, he began leaving without waiting for your response, hands shoved into his pockets as he did so.

You didn’t seem to mind, too busy thinking about actually having the comic book in your hands and went to see the first page, wondering what it looked like.

However, the sight shocked you.

Upon opening the cover, the blank page showed a bit of writing along with a red envelope.

‘To [ Name LastName ], hope you’re grateful.’

Was all it read as you slowly reached for the red envelope and pulled the seal open.

Inside, instead of it being money, it was a folded paper. Curiosity took over as you pulled it out and read it.

‘You’re welcome. Happy Lunar Year, [ Name ]-ya. I like seeing you smile and I knew you’d want the latest remake of the comic so I made sure to get it. Don’t be a klutz and ruin it.’

and right near the bottom was his phone number, with two words. ‘Let’s talk.’

Irritation was evident in your eyes but the small warm smile took over your emotions as you held the paper tightly in your hands.

Law sure was an unexpected type.

-

Meanwhile, as Law walked away, he looked down at his path as he did so, warmth spreading over his cheeks at what he did and the image of your excited grin was plastered in his mind.

-

A/N : MAN IDK OKAY ITS RUSHED AND IM BEST AT RUSHING THINGS BECAUSE MY FINGERS TYPE BEFORE MY BRAIN THINKS! wait does that make sense?

[ibijau]

Counterfeit AU pt5 / On AO3

Lan Xichen, left alone, discovers something about Nie Huaisang

Sitting on a kitchen chair, Lan Xichen listens as Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian try to explain to him who they are. He half wishes he could tell them that he remembers… not everything, not yet (not ever, a part of him hopes) but certainly enough that introductions aren’t quite needed. Words don’t quite make it to his mouth though, his mind still struggling to accept what’s going on. Lan Xichen, until now, always prided himself in being a rational man.

It’s hard to be rational when faced with your brother from another life, whose husband tells you that they have been looking for you for centuries, because apparently they’re immortals.

It’s odd that Lan Xichen accepts that part so easily. Immortals only exist in stories, he would have said just a few hours ago. Now though… well, there’s something not fully human to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, a touch of something more.

“It’s only the second time we find you,” Wei Wuxian says, glancing at his husband. Lan Wangji’s expression is nearly unchanged, but Lan Xichen can tell he is deeply distraught. “Well, the second time we find you where you’re still alive,” Wei Wuxian corrects, making his husband wince slightly. “We were always too late, somehow. Every time we reached you, you’d died already. Even the other time we found you alive barely counts. You were very, very old, and you weren’t quite all there anymore. You didn’t really recognise your actual family, so two strangers from another life… and anyway, you died the night we arrived.”

Lan Wangji flinches, which makes Lan Xichen want to scold Wei Wuxian because surely, after so long alive, he should have learned by now to be a little more considerate to the feelings of others, shouldn’t he? But before he can say anything, Wei Wuxian leans toward his husband and takes his hand, intertwining their fingers in a way that makes Lan Wangji relax.

In another life, Lan Xichen had sometimes taken those gestures of affection as an attack, when he had lost so much himself. He'd known, even then, that it was an irrational reaction. At least now he can watch those two and feel nothing except some relief that things worked out so well for them. 

"Are there more like you?" he asks. 

"Immortals? Not that many," Wei Wuxian admits. "I got to meet Baoshan Sanren, but of our generation only the two of us and Nie-xiong became immortals. Well, and Lan Jingyi became a god, but he's busy and we don't see him a lot. Oh, and Song Lan was around too for a long while of course, but about five centuries ago Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing's souls finally recovered from being fractured, so they all three re-entered the cycle of reincarnation. And then there's a few others from before, though not many from after. We're not sure why, but two or three generations after us, it just stopped happening."

Lan Xichen lets out a sigh. It's not that he particularly expected anything, but he feels disappointed anyway. 

"Xiongzhang might still meet others," Lan Wangji says in what seems intended as a comforting tone. He has improved in expressing himself, or else Lan Xichen remembers this too. "From that first life we all shared. Maybe from following ones, if they impacted your soul enough." 

"Oh," Lan Xichen says. His hands clench over his knees. He wonders if there's anyone he might want to meet again, when he died feeling he had failed everyone, that first time. 

“It will all come back to you here and there,” Wei Wuxian explains. “You might also realise you already know other people from before. I’ve been told it’s a weird feeling, but you get used to it.”

Lan Xichen considers this, and tries to guess who this might concern. For some reason, his little brother comes to mind, but that might be only wishful thinking. Same with his father. Maybe he actually hasn't encountered anyone from his past. No one except, of course… 

“I’ve met Meng Yao,” Lan Xichen says.

The other two men grimace.

“Hopefully you’ll also meet people you like,” Wei Wuxian replies with an embarrassed cough.

Lan Xichen, who likes Meng Yao very much indeed, stares at him blankly. What right does this stranger to pass judgement on his… not boyfriend, not exactly. Not yet. Lan Xichen was still working out the courage to have that conversation, to see if Meng Yao might be amenable to real dates, to kissing, to…

It won’t happen now.

It won’t happen because in another life, Lan Xichen murdered Meng Yao.

He didn’t particularly want to, he vaguely recalls. It had been a last resort, and to be frank Meng Yao had brought it upon himself. Still, the fact remains that Lan Xichen killed one of the men he… well, he might have loved him, back then. It’s hard to say for sure. But it is quite certain that Lan Xichen killed him, and even after several lifetimes, he’s not sure Meng Yao will have forgiven him.

He didn’t use to be a very forgiving man.

"Speaking of the devil, better go check what's going on in that basement before it turns bad," Wei Wuxian mutters, glancing in direction of the kitchen door. "Just because he's never killed Nie-xiong yet doesn't mean he can't do it ever. Hey, Lan-da-ge, do you need a ride back home?" 

The nickname feels like a slap. 

Lan Xichen remembers he could never quite decide whether he liked Wei Wuxian or not, in that first life. 

He's still not sure he does. 

"I have a taxi coming," he announces. "But thanks for the offer. I just wish to have some time to digest all of this." 

Wei Wuxian shrugs, apparently unconcerned, and leaves the kitchen. While he's gone, Lan Wangji politely asks if they might exchange phone numbers. He won't force the acquaintance, he explains, but he'd be grateful if this favour were granted. 

Lan Xichen, weak to little brothers of his in this life as in every others, readily agrees. 

Lan Wangji, so dry and formal in speech, texts with emojis everywhere. Lan Xichen is endeared, and wonders if that is Wei Wuxian's influence at play. 

Maybe he does like Wei Wuxian a little, if he can help his brother express himself more easily. 

After a little while, Lan Xichen hears two pairs of feet on the stairs coming from the basement. Wei Wuxian calls only for Lan Wangji to join them in the entrance, but Lan Xichen springs to his feet, knocking down the chair in his haste. He takes one long step, two, three, and reaches the kitchen door. From there he sees Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang at the door, the former making a joke of some sort, the later trying to put on shoes as fast as he can. They both look up when they notice a presence hovering by the kitchen door.

Nie Huaisang goes pale at the sight of Lan Xichen. His face grows tight, his lips twisting into a grimace that might be disgust, or horror, or something else entirely. Whatever it is, it makes Nie Huaisang jump to his feet and run out of the door, nearly tripping on his half tied shoelaces. Wei Wuxian sighs and shakes his head, but says nothing, even as a car door opens and closes with a slam somewhere outside. 

"Nie Huaisang hasn't changed," Lan Wangji says as he joins them

Wei Wuxian and him exchange a look. To Lan Xichen, it looks like a long conversation without words. After so long together, some things might no longer need to be said. 

"Do you want us to stay until your taxi is here?" Wei Wuxian asks, nodding toward the basement stairs. Toward Meng Yao. "You know, in case…" 

Lan Xichen considers saying yes, then feels ashamed of himself for thinking like this. Whatever happened in another life, and even if it ruins any chance of romance in the present, Lan Xichen cannot imagine this current Meng Yao harming him. 

Perhaps Lan Xichen too hasn't changed, in spite of several lifetimes which should have taught him better. 

He shakes his head. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian look unhappy, but don't insist. They tell him, again, to call them, to get in touch, to allow them in his life if he can, and leave. 

As soon as their car leaves, Meng Yao emerges from the basement and heads out as well. He looks like he cried, or like he might cry later. He doesn't spare Lan Xichen a single glance, but he seems in such a state that he might just not have noticed the other man.

That second car speeds into the distance.

Just like that, Lan Xichen is alone. 

Of course that's hardly new. He spent a few decades alone in this cold house, reflecting on his mistakes. A prison of his own making, with no company but guilt and brushes. Music he'd abandoned after how much it had cost him, but calligraphy, but poetry, but painting… 

He painted a lot, and burned it all every now and then. He was never skill enough to produce anything worth keeping, anyway, unlike… 

Lan Xichen's eyes wander toward those downward stairs. He came here for a reason, he remembers, and while he might have ruined many things, perhaps this at least he can still have. 

When he reaches the basement, Lan Xichen finds the door to Nie Huaisang’s workshop open. A fit of forgetfulness which he takes as an invitation. 

Just as Meng Yao promised, this workshop is filled with paintings in Nie Huaisang’s hand. Some appear to be reproductions of pieces Lan Xichen has seen before… unless they are originals. The notes attached to a few appear doubtful, as if the artist himself cannot remember anymore when he first painted each piece. A few are copies of other artists' work, more carefully hidden and annotated. Those, as far as Lan Xichen can tell when it isn't his subject of predilection, are mostly lost artwork. Judging by the notes, they all belonged to masters whom Nie Huaisang once met in person. 

Most interesting to Lan Xichen are Nie Huaisang’s own lost works, reproduced by his own hand and carefully labelled. The titles are familiar, as are the subjects in some cases thanks to old descriptions. But it is the first time Lan Xichen sees those, and with each one he feels he uncovers another secret of this artist he has so extensively studied.

The brushstrokes here are innovative, showing progress from this earlier work. But there the curves and lines of mountains, a little clumsy if considered alone, announce the brilliance of a future series. And then there are portraits of disciples, views of the Unclean Realm, all rumoured to have existed but lost to collectors centuries ago. Those are the only ones whose notes do not mention when the originals were lost or destroyed, so it might be that Nie Huaisang, missing his long gone home, bought back the shadows of his old life.

Painting by painting, Nie-Huaisang-the-artist unveils himself to Lan Xichen. 

Nie-Huaisang-the-man remains a mystery, until Lan Xichen, having observed and photographed everything else, becomes curious about the desk's two drawers. 

In the top one he finds doodles and notes, post-its about orders, lists of works already in collections. There are also candy wrappers, some ancient coins, a novel in a foreign language with a crumbling bookmark. Nie Huaisang hasn't changed, still messy. It makes Lan Xichen want to laugh and cry, thinking of his uncle who once thought he could correct Nie Huaisang’s bad habits. A fight lost from the start, he realises. 

Finding nothing useful in this drawer, Lan Xichen is about to open the other one when, somewhere far above him, a car's horn announces that his taxi is here at last. It would be rude to make the driver wait, Lan Xichen thinks, and the first draw contained nothing important, so it is unlikely the second will be different. 

It would be wise to leave this place, forget about it, return to his quiet and ordinary life. He'll write his book or he won't, and then move on to something less intimage.

It would be wise and Lan Xichen even takes a step toward the door before changing his mind. He cannot let this last shred of curiosity go unsatisfied. He still carries too many regrets from his previous lives, he cannot accumulate new ones already. 

Lan Xichen opens the other drawer, and gasps.

Unlike the rest of the room where everything is organised and cared for, this drawer is filled with piled up sheets of paper that appear to have been unceremoniously thrown there. On top of the pile is the portrait of a melancholic looking man dressed all in white, wearing an embroidered ribbon on his forehead. On the corner of the page, a scribbled note reads ‘more smile’, as well as a recent date.

Without thinking Lan Xichen grabs the painting to get a better look. As he does so, the next sheet of paper on the pile is revealed: another portrait of the same man, nearly identical, though the note is different. Its date is a year earlier, and it reads ‘too stern’. Lan Xichen grabs that painting too, and the next, browsing through them with increasing franzy.

There are well over a hundred portraits of the same man in that drawer, going back centuries. The styles change depending on their age, reflecting the preference of that era. They all have a date, and most have a comment of sorts as well, usually criticising some element of the portrait that must be corrected to achieve true likeness.

A hundred portraits of Lan Xichen.

Because that is him, he knows, even if no name is mentioned. This is who he was in that first life.

Or at least, it is how Nie Huaisang remembered him. The oldest of those paintings is still dated to nearly five centuries after Lan Xichen’s first death, and there’s a roughness to it, a sentiment of urgency, that makes him think it really is the first of that series, that there were no others before that. Even accounting for style, that first painting looks different from the others, it is unpolished and vague, as if Nie Huaisang had almost forgotten what Lan Xichen looked like. The notes on that first painting are scathing, full of reproach about being too stupid to remember what ‘er-ge’ looked like.

How odd, Lan Xichen thinks.

They never really met again, Nie Huaisang and him. Not after the murder of Jin Guangyao. He remembers assuming that Nie Huaisang would have killed him too if he could have. He remembers how that assumption had hurt, and how it had taken him years of isolation to finally realise that what he had felt for Nie Huaisang, just like what he had felt for Jin Guangyao, had gone beyond the acceptable limits of friendship. A realisation come too late, supposing there could ever have been a right time for the three of them. 

What a fool he'd been, loving those two men who must have despised him for his weaknesses. 

What a fool he must still be, having learned nothing from the past. 

[jkflesh]

Interview with jesu January 2021 New Noise magazine #56

Read the interview by Antoine "Neredude" Duprez below:

The “Terminus” Bandcamp page states that the album was done between 2016 and 2020. That's a long period in your standards! Did you get some sort of writer's block with Jesu? Or was it because you were so busy with your numerous projects?

— I never get writers block, I just simply move on to the next thing if I’m not currently inspired to work on a specific project. Most my records, for many years, have been written and recorded over extended periods of time; I work when inspiration strikes, when it doesn’t I move onto the next thing; there’s never a block for me with creation generally, maybe just specific areas. i take large breaks for my music so as to afford some sort of distance, gone are the times when an album would be hammered out in a month!

''When I Was Small'' has kind of a Radiohead thing in the vocals, whereas ''Alone'' reminds me a lot of Sigur Rós. Are those bands part of your background?

— Ok, interesting observation, but no Radiohead is not an influence on this song, the biggest influences on the vocals were Liam Gallagher from Oasis, and subconsciously "White Flag" by Godflesh (which I only discovered after the album was complete). I do love some Radiohead though, as I do Sigur Rós, but neither band is a direct or conscious influence. Musically “When I was Small” was mostly influenced by trying to recreate a vibe of early Neil Young mixed with Oasis, in a jesu fashion, coupled with a demo production; intentionally underproduced. I’m not sure where a lot of the influence on “Alone” came from, electronic pop music for sure, short and sweet was the intention, driven entirely by the voice sample.

Regarding “Terminus,” did you set yourself a framework or musical approach beforehand like you did for “Every Day I Get Closer to the Light From Which I Came?“

— Not really no, generally when I work on a bunch of songs things will fall into place naturally, the songs become a whole and then collectively the songs will become conceptual as i write, they build their own logic, so to speak, I don’t force anything, I let things happen organically as I write and record.

I think around 2013, you said “Every Day I Get Closer to the Light From Which I Came” was going to set a precedent for the next album. Now that it's out, do you still think so? Personally, even though both records are different, I can definitely hear a connection.

— Yeah, shame it took 7 years to come to fruition! And many things changed over those 7 years, as ever. Jesu certainly documents my personal journey in life, it’s ultra personal, Godflesh is much more external comparatively. A lot to the solo jesu work took a backseat when I worked on the collaborations with Sun Kil Moon, but that was very refreshing and inspired me to take jesu further, I had notions of discontinuing the project at some point, but the collabs with Sun Kil Moon inspired me to keep pursuing jesu.

"Every Day I Get Closer to the Light From Which I Came” was inspired in great part by you becoming a father. Can you tell us a bit about what was on your mind when you wrote “Terminus?”

— That’s very true, especially the initial journey of bringing life into the/our world. everything is there in the lyrics and artwork for "Terminus" so of course, like a lot of my work, depends on the listeners perspectives, they can make it their own, make it personal. But it’s essentially about endings, and my obsession with finality, my sensitivity to it and my fear of it. There’s a line in the title song that says “my end, our end, the end, the end”, which pretty much sums it up.

The EP “Never” you released before “Terminus” is quite different and more focused on electronics. I remember you telling me that you liked going experimental on EPs, doing stuff you wouldn't do on a full length. So I figure that's still the case?

— Yeah, I like experimenting with everything, I like satisfying myself with different ideas, obviously that doesn’t suit my listeners too much, but I make this music for myself, and I’m always trying to do better. I still don’t know why I put myself through the trial and hell of releasing music, I often think about just recording for myself and not bothering with an audience, but I’m not really capable of earning money in other ways, so I have to finish music and release it, let it go. For me "Never" was just another way of interpreting the jesu mood, nothing deviates too much from the original intention of the project. It’s weird, critically, it was perceived as this big electronic departure, whereas jesu has sounded pretty much like this most of it’s lifetime! “Pale Sketches", "Lifeline" even "Silver” is all mostly electronic, save a real drum loop in the song "Silver", but this EP seemed to get this thing that its all electronic, whereas it;’s no more electronically oriented than any other jesu record I have made. jesu is a mood that can be explored and experimented with, I’m not making the first album over and over, some can’t get over that, but that was a different moment in my life which I captured, and as an artist who challenges oneself besides the audience you can never win, and one will generally never win hah. This is a new jesu, it comes with age, transitions. "Never" was intentionally idiosyncratic and deliberately fvcked up sounding, and I think by and large critically the subtleties were lost on people.

“Never” features two version of ''Never There for You'', one of them described as the ''original vision''. Can you explained how you ended up releasing two version of this song?

— The “original vision” existed like that since around 2010, I shelved it, it was to be a Pale Sketcher song, I had an album’s worth of similar songs, I still do, couldn’t decide if they should be jesu or Pale Sketcher. I sent them to Aphex Twin / Richard James because he was a huge fan of the Pale Sketcher EP “Seventh Heaven”, we were talking about a release on his label Rephlex, I had all these songs that were floating between jesu and Pale Sketcher. But then he folded Rephlex for good, a real shame, so I was left with all these songs in limbo, I still am, but at that period I shelved them all. I returned to them around 2018 and started adding guitars and vocals, thinking that they will now definitely be jesu songs. “Never There for You” was one of them, so I wanted the listener to hear what it was originally before I added more of organic me. I’m working on finalising all those songs for Rephlex into future jesu, probably an album that I hope to release late 2021, it’s not a "Terminus" though, and probably most ppl will hate it hah.

“Terminus” is the first album to feature Ted Parsons in a long while. Did you invite him because you felt these songs needed his touch?

— I wanted some live drums, 3 songs only. I was going to play them myself, like on "Opiate Sun". "Infinity" etc, but I really wanted Ted involved and see how he interpreted my drum parts, he always swings something and makes it interesting. he’s a very real drummer, and a very real human being.

When touring is possible again, would you like to tour with Jesu, with Ted on drums?

— I may tour solo, with electronics and projections. The band thing is tiresome and always just sounds like a band, bands bore me these days because of the constraints of the instruments, rock records also bore me these days; same productions, etc, very little actual aesthetic, but its popular and what do I know. But I’d rather jesu now sound hugely expansive live, not just like a rock band. But i’m still unsure. Live drums swallow my voice live, I can’t sing above them, and jesu is a tiny project, can’t play big venues with stage separation and screens around the drums, and 8 guys diving around onstage, it’s not affordable. I stopped performing as jesu for some time due to all those reasons.

You said “Silver” is probably your favourite Jesu record. Are there other Jesu albums that stand out in your mind?

— Did I say that?! Haha. I don’t recall, and that opinion changes every day I feel. I like how concise and all encompassing "Silver" is; it covers most of the ground that I feel the project should cover. But "Terminus" is my favourite jesu album, and it should be, otherwise I would not feel I was moving forward, and I feel I am, it is the best jesu album I have made.

Last year, you told Olivier ''Zoltar'' Badin that the next Zonal album would probably go in the direction of it's title track ''Wrecked''. Is it still true to this day and what can you tell us about that upcoming album?

— Well, a lot of time has passed since, but I think Kevin and I are still quite struck on that song as a template for future recordings, although everything changes all the time, of course, and time is passing fast once again, we haven’t discussed Zonal in some time.

I know you don't actually consider yourself as a guitarist. With you focusing on your electronic projects like JK Flesh and Zonal lately, do you ever get tired of guitar? I'm asking this because I recently discussed the subject with Steven Wilson. He basically told me that after 30 years writing and doing gigs with guitar, he's feeling more creative and excited when writing music on other instruments and I wondered if you ever felt something similar.

— All instruments are just a means to an end for me; a tool for the bigger job, I don’t really wish to be overly proficient at any instrument, I liked that about punk, and it’s what I’m not that fond of about overly progressive music, it’s like it’s for show, I don’t do anything for show, I’d rather be shit than great, it’s more interesting, it reflects the human condition, imperfection. I don’t wish for things to sound perfect, whatever that is, people should not come to my music for that, they probably don’t and it’s probably why my audience is so small haha.

I recently discovered that you worked with Josh Eustis with the mastering of the JK Flesh / Orphx live album and was a bit surprised. How did that happen?

— Josh is a very good friend of Dominick Fernow’s (Prurient / Vatican Shadow / Hospital Productions, etc), and Dominick is a very close friend of mine. I was aware that Josh does very good mastering besides being an extremely talented artist, so Dominick suggested josh master that collaboration, and it sounds excellent!

I interviewed Lee Dorrian some time ago and we were talking about the impact Napalm Death had, not just the band itself but all the bands who were formed after playing in that band: Godflesh, Carcass, Cathedral, Scorn... Lee thought this legacy had a lot to do with John Peel broadcasting a wide array of music on young aspiring musicians. How would you explain such creativity and versatility from musicians who all played in Napalm Death at one point?

—  Lee is absolutely correct, a lot of very young kids listened to John Peel, most generations did, his taste exposed music to many of us who were already enquiring at a young age that we would not have heard anywhere else and of course back then this centralised things, not fragmented them like the internet does; a kid now can absorb an artist entire catalog in an hour, speed listen to it all, then have an opinion, but it’s informed, no context, no history, no experience. We heard music then on Peel and then hunted it down. It took work, valuable work that paid dividends. Peel’s broad appreciation of eternally subversive music and otherwise told us that music didnt need to exist in such strict compartments, that’s it’s all part of a greater whole, so when groups of musicians collaborated even at such young ages, our tastes were informed and wide, very rarely singular.

Can you tell us a bit about you latest remixing output? What were the tracks that you enjoyed the most remixing? Those are the names I could find: Full of Hell, Oathbreaker and a lot of projects I've never heard of.

— I always and love to remix, I love the fact that I didn’t create this music but can make something new from someone else’s work. Music is endless, for me, it’s just when you wish to end it, but ultimately it can never end. I have some remixes that I love moire than others, but only over time, I never let a remix go unless I am as happy as can be with it. Sometimes I would’ve loved to have done more, my Killing Joke remix is a good example of that, I wanted to go further, but Youth of Killing Joke told me they were happy with where I was at, I think I could’ve made it much better. The Oathbreaker remix you mentioned is a favourite of mine from the last years worth of my remixes. I’ll remix anyone, if they can afford my fee and I have the time!

I'm curious, since you released some of your music with your own label with Godflesh, Jesu and other projects, did it have an impact on the revenue you got from streaming platforms like Spotify, compared to albums released on Earache or Hydra Head? I'm asking this in the light of the neverending controversy regarding streaming revenue for musicians.

— On my own label more money can be earned from these services due to no split with another label, which usually would be 50/50, but streaming is very small as is common knowledge. I never see any royalties from Earache so can’t compare their rates etc since Godflesh is constantly recouping an advance from Columbia / Sony for the "Selfless" album that Earache, contractually, can recoup from, even though they didn’t give the advance, so they’re making money from the band and from an advance they never paid, which these days you would think that besides being unethical that it would be criminal, but such were the contracts in the 80’s / 90’s. So I’ve never seen a single penny from streaming with Earache!

I know it might be pointless to ask you, since someone's mind can change with time but do you still think “Post Self” may be your last album with Godflesh? Your told us last year that you weren't sure if you had enough in you creatively to do another album and also that the constant screaming was a bit harder to do.

— Hah, the shouting/screaming live now takes its toll, it does with age, I’m unsure due to not performing for so long thanks to the pandemic how my voice would be for Godflesh now in a live setting, I’d have very little problem in the studio. I’m still struck on the fact that there may not be another full length studio album from Godflesh, I haven’t been inspired to initiate one for numerous reasons, and I don’t wish for us to repeat ourselves in any way, I do have a lot of interesting old material though, some good rare stuff, demos, “Us and Them in Dub” which is also in the works, but I work on that sporadically, when I feel inspired to do so. So there’s a lot of good stuff coming.

Last time I interviewed you in 2014, Aphex Twin was making his grand return with “Syro”. I remember you telling me that the album was still shrinkwrapped on your desk. Knowing you're a big Aphex fan, I wanted to know if you liked that album, especially knowing that a lot of fans were disappointed by it.

— Ahh it was such a long time ago now that we spoke last! I love "Syro”, but I love Aphex, and since I first heard "Didgeridoo" when it was released and then "Quoth", he will always be a favourite, "Syro" may not be an Aphex favourite for me, but it’s still amazing, he is amazing; creative, subversive and doesn’t give a fvck ultimately, he’d also never release anything if he didnt really have to, he does this for himself, for me the best art is entirely selfish and should consider no one. People are always disappointed, a lot of people just can’t live with the fact that an artist strays from their own personal conception of what an artist should be, it’s some sort of misguided entitlement, I lost that when II was around 14, a lot of people don’t lose it and now these people have the internet. No artist owes me anything, if they gave me one thing in my life then i will always respect their art, regardless of whether it works for me or not, and if I don’t like it much, I won’t be peddling that opinion on the internet in an entitled egotistical manner, I’m glad I did not know that a lot of people were disappointed, haha.

Thank you very much! Best JKB, Jan 2021

[lostcauses-noregrets]

Hello, Lost! Weird question taken seriously: Is Erwin as attractive in canon as the fandom perceives him to be? In almost every fanfic/artwork/headcanon I've seen, Erwin is depicted as very attractive and irresistible, but has he ever been described that way in canon material? Same goes for Levi, because I heard that Isayama rated him a 2/10! ngl I think they're both a couple of hotties, but I was just wondering :P

You mean do any of the characters in canon find Erwin or Levi attractive?  Huh. That’s a really interesting question Anon!

The most common reaction to Levi’s physical appearance tends to be that his stature doesn’t match up with his reputation as Humanity’s Strongest soldier. 

In chapter 20 Petra comments that it’s not uncommon for people to be disappointed by Levi when they meet him, and Mikasa rather unkindly refers to him as a midget at one point.

So on the basis of appearance alone I’d say that no, Levi is not generally considered to be attractive. In chapter 110 Zeke also pokes fun at Levi by saying he isn’t popular with women, but that’s more a dig at his waning reputation and popularity, rather than his attractiveness.  

Leaving aside Levi’s physical appearance, it’s clear that his personality also puts people off, though those that know him best are quick to point out that his brusque manner conceals a kind and compassion heart.  This is Erwin talking about Levi in the Smartpass Up Close Interview:

Erwin:  Despite his warmhearted nature, I’ve asked him to carry out some cruel missions…

Journalist: Is Captain Levi very…”warmhearted?”

Erwin:  He just has a rude attitude…but he cherishes his comrades’ life more than anyone else. His reputation cannot be established based on strength alone, Humans can subconsciously detect how much concern others have for them… and when they notice this kindness, it inspires power…That is something that I can’t do.

When it comes to Erwin, I think most people in canon are so intimidated and in awe of him that it wouldn’t even occur to them to consider him as attractive. In the Smartpass Up Close Interview the journalist says that 

“Everyone, especially the new recruits, seem to have an impression of him being ‘scary.’”

In some of the other supplementary material the veterans occasionally poke fun at Erwin for his fastidious grooming habits, but they don’t actually comment on his attractiveness.

There is one exception of course - Levi.  Both in the manga and in the supplementary material Levi comments on Erwin’s appearance and usually he’s being typically sarcastic; he calls Erwin’s out for his creepy smile, and in the Up Close Interview snarks that his kids won’t be cute.  There’s also this immortal exchange from the Smartpass Crumbled Castle Gate story, which is always worth quoting:

“It’s not only the people born from a poor background who are not satisfied with the current situation, right? For the current me, this existence within the walls feels like being behind bars.“

“Tch, you said the same thing as the brat.”

“You mean Eren? According to the report, before the fall of Wall Maria, he used to say something along the lines of ‘living within the walls an entire lifetime is the same as being livestock.’”

“I also understand that…” Levi sighs. “Hmph, sometimes he is like a beast…his eyes are like a beast hunting for meat. He also holds a grudge towards the titans. But more than that, it is his dissatisfaction towards the current situation that burns most within his eyes; that dissatisfaction towards a society that forbids him from going outside the wall, as well as his frustration at being clueless and powerless.”

“So I am the same?”

“Sometimes.”

“So you are saying that I look quite young because I have the same eyes as a young new soldier?” Erwin laughs. His expression when he laughs makes him look like a young boy. Levi replies with a frown.

“I am not praising you!”

"I know.”

But he will follow him.

Finally, Erwin looks away from the outside scenery and looks at Levi’s face. Levi tilts his face up, looking up to the taller man.

And don’t forget that in Good Night, Sweet Dreams Levi dreams about Erwin…

“In the dream, Erwin appeared, dressed handsomely, and brought Levi into the building.”

So yeah, judging by canon, it appears that Levi is pretty much the only one who finds Erwin attractive XD 

And is that feeling reciprocated?  Does Erwin find Levi attractive too?  Well. I’m just going to leave you with this….

[myktchp]

Top 6 Episodes of One Piece

If there's a series that attempts to test the diminishing return hypothesis, it's One Piece. The monstrous epic of Eiichiro Oda is the highest selling manga of all time, but its ridiculous duration still prohibits many people from checking it out, and that hill will only get steeper as we barrel towards its end (eventually).

The One Piece anime, which is a much greater commitment to time and does not boast the brilliant artwork of Oda as a selling point, is even more of a conundrum. Yet, for the first time, so many fans perceive the story this way and fall in love regardless... Over the course of many long binges, there is something special about cuddling up in front of a screen and getting lost in a world, and the powerful spirit that burns just below the surface, even during the not-so-hot days of the anime, still keeps us building up to a new "best" chapter. Everyone has their favorite shows, the ones they feel emotionally attached to, and we would love to share yours in the forums with you. Here are my own 6 best One Piece episodes, in chronological order (but not superlative):

Episode 19 - The Three-Sword Style's Past! Zoro and Kuina's Vow!

In the modern age, where the manga is so informative and comprehensive, it's hard to believe that there was once a period when the anime really successfully expanded on the plot. The anime version of Zoro's flashback is so amazing that it is the "true" version of the story in my heart, which comes a little later than it did in the manga. What once was a fast and blunt page is turned into a wonderful piece of sound, letting us live for an episode in the Japanese countryside as we hear the story of a young Roronoa Zoro and his original opponent, Kuina.

In its obsession with gender, this episode also ends up being easily the most empathic the show has ever gotten. It portrays Kuina, the prodigal swordsman, dissatisfied with the awareness that the gap in intensity between her and Zoro will increase drastically as they become adults. This is a moment for a young Zoro to take seriously his female rival, and in the present day, Tashigi finally takes up whatever thematic baggage is left behind by her death. This is One Piece's tender side at its finest.

Episode 119 - Secret of Powerful Swordplay! Ability to Cut Steel and the Rhythm Things Have!

This is another fantastic episode of Zoro that places us in the middle of the Straw Hats and Baroque Works' climate war. The adversary of Zoro is Mr. 1, who really isn't a swordsman, but a man who can turn his entire body into a weapon. Not only does Dice-Dice Fruit from Mr. 1 allow for some of the anime's imagination, but this episode manages to offer one of the coolest battles in the entire series. It's bloody, it's raw, and Zoro throws a guy into a building.

Towards the end, the episode is at its best, when everything gets quiet and builds up to the final blow. It sells the show with so much conviction that I believe it's cool. I believe this is one of the series's most driven episodes, and a great example of the show's cinematic narrative eye.

Episode 278 - Say You Want to Live! We Are Your Friends!

If 151 was the episode that made me a fan, the episode that made me a lifetime fan is 278. This episode and the one before it are older examples of "one-hour specials" from the series, which are gradually split into two episodes until released on home video and streaming sites. This episode is jam-packed even as just the second half of a special, as we conclude the tragic backstory of Robin and transition into the present where the Straw Hats make their greatest gesture yet to save their friend from the greedy World Government.

One Piece can become astonishingly sad for being such a vibrant and enjoyable series, to the point that it almost competes with itself to see how unhappy it can get. If the highs were not so gosh darn consistent, these lows would become tiresome, and Straw Hats' assault on the government flag, followed by Robin's major "I want to live!" One of the most cathartic moments you'll ever find in literature is the scene. At this point in the plot, the Straw Hats are still underdogs, so their bold "never give up" attitude in the face of their greatest enemy hits particularly hard. This episode illustrates the chasms that One Piece can jump to be the saddest and happiest tale it can be, from baby Robin surviving the genocide of everyone she's ever loved to adult Robin pleading for another chance at life.

Episode 396 - The Fist Explodes! Destroy the Auction!

In One Piece, Luffy punches a Celestial Dragon so hard that he knocks the color off the screen, still one of the most frequently referenced and applauded moments. If there is one thing that One Piece is unbelievably good at, it's payoffs. It sets the pins up so that in the most bombastic way possible it can knock them down. To this day, the Celestial Dragons are the most heinous villains we've seen in One Piece, and the repercussions of (again) defying the World Government are obvious, but Luffy still has to do his thing with Luffy.

The emphasis that the show places on Luffy's pledge to Hatchan not to intervene, no matter what, is what really captures me about this moment. You get the feeling that Luffy is the kind to keep an earnest promise, but watching a hero get pushed beyond that stage is always fascinating.

Episode 574 - Back to the Present! Hordy Makes a Move!

The general opinion, as far as I can tell, is that Fishman Island is the series' worst arc. With this sentiment, I don't agree. I think it's one of the heaviest, most three-dimensional instances I've ever seen of fantasy-world-racism-as-metaphor-for-real-world-racism. Basically, the mid-arc flashback covering the plights of Fisher Tiger and Queen Otohime is a film-length drama, and it's one of the series' best flashbacks, for which there's fierce competition. It's very underestimated.

Aside from being an exceptionally pretty episode, both halves of it are extremely strong, one at the tail end of the flashback and one coming out of it. Neptune mourning the death of his wife, distraught that the difficulty of race relations implies that he can not convey his frustration, is a great scene, as is the forgiveness of Jimbei by Nami for his connection to the pirates of Arlong. The push and pull between hope, cynicism, remorse, rage, and love is what makes this arc perfect. You just ever feel like you're halfway through everything life's going to bring you through, even at its worst. As for its place in the big picture plot, this episode is a significant step in the relationship of Jimbei with the pirates of the Straw Hat, and it establishes the purpose of the Ryugu Kingdom to join the World Government and attend the Reverie, a heavily built-up political event that is due in the manga any day now.

Episode 616 - A Surprising Outcome! White Chase vs. Vergo!

This is a particular stand-out episode in the series for fighting animation, since it's so much more physical than normal. Even with the powers of Smoker and Vergo flying every way, the effect goes down to their good ole fists. The personal investment between two marines duking it out is already very intense, but it's put over the edge by the great choreography and style, and that alone would put such an episode on my radar.

That said, once Smoker vs. Vergo turns over to Vergo vs. Rule, there is a cherry on top, with the real villain of the arc, Doflamingo, listening in from a distance. The rest of the series gives too much consequence to the law defeating Vergo in such an over-the-top manner.

So those are the episodes I feel are worth revisiting the most! Obviously, I'm expected to have skipped a few or omitted incredibly significant episodes in this top six list, with a series that long. If you enjoyed this top list of mine don’t forget to leave a like and share it with your friends. If you have any suggestions for my next top list just mail it to me at ramos.rf.bsmt@gmail.com and i will feature you for my next article. Stay tuned and stay safe everyone!

[lehillwrites]

Virtual Visit: Vaux-le-Vicomte

Last spring I wrote a series of posts about virtually visiting fandom filming locations for a Travel Writing class, and since November 16th is considered "International Versailles Day" within the Versailles fandom (to commemorate the first episode airing in 2015), I thought I would re-create the post here. This virtual tour, as well as a few others, will be a part of my Capstone project to be completed next year. Enjoy!

The Chateau Vaux-le-Vicomte has been used in many period pieces, but the one I am focusing on for this post is the television series Versailles. The show ran for three glorious seasons (2015-2018) and in my opinion could have gone for another three no problem. Life in Louis XIV’s Court was filled with enough intrigue and decadence to put a modern day soap opera to shame. While the show takes some liberties, as they all do, much of what you see as the drama plays out on the screen is true. I fell down the research well after discovering the show and I think sometimes the writers actually hold back when portraying the utterly elegant madness of the time of Louis XIV’s Versailles.

Vaux itself is never mentioned by name in the show, but it stood in for many scenes that were supposed to take place within the real palace of Versailles. In the header picture it is doubling for Saint-Cloud, the royal residence of Philippe d'Orleans (1640-1701), the only brother of King Louis XIV (1638-1715). The actual Saint-Cloud no longer exists, but it is said that the beauty of Philippe's chateau rivaled Versailles' in the opinion of many visitors at the time. A fact that did not please the King.

A quick history lesson

You cannot talk about Vaux-le-Vicomte without also looking at Nicholas Fouquet (1615-1680) from whose mind the chateau sprung. Though less like Athena from Zeus because it took 20 years for Fouquet’s dream to come to fruition.

In 1641 he acquired the land and proceeded to demolish the existing chateau and cleared the village of Vaux and two adjacent hamlets. The three men who were behind the stunning beauty of the chateau and gardens were the architect Louis Le Vau (1612-1670), gardener André Le Nôtre (1613-1700), and painter and decorator Charles Le Brun (1619-1690). Thanks to the support of Fouquet, each of these men, already respected in their fields, would create an architectural, artistic and design legacy that would influence all of Europe.

Le Veu designed a chateau that worked with the gardens to enhance their beauty equally. Le Nôtre used new techniques in gardening along with his own unique designs to create the original French formal garden. Le Brun was the genius behind the lavish artwork inside the chateau, filled with mythology and allegorical figures that were characteristic of the 17th century.

Later, all three of these men would work under the direction of Louis XIV as he created his own masterpiece, Versailles, which was influenced heavily by Vaux. You see, when Nicholas Fouquet, then the Minister of Finance, held the first grand party in 1661 to showcase the completed chateau for the king, that’s when it all fell apart. He had apparently gone too far, and dreamed too big.

The writer Voltaire wrote, “On 17 August, at 6 o’clock in the evening, Fouquet was king of France; at 2 o’clock in the morning, he was nothing.” It didn’t happen quite that fast, but three weeks later Fouquet was arrested by d’Artagnan, of the King’s Musketeers, and accused of embezzling from the Crown. In reality, it had been the Cardinal Mazarin who had depleted the royal coffers, but it didn’t matter. Fouquet was sent to prison in Pignerol, where he died in 1680.

The King claimed much of the chateau's assets and auctioned off the rest. Madame Fouquet left the chateau and gardens to her son, but the domain was sold to the Marshal of Villars in 1805 after the son’s death. It was briefly renamed Vaux-Villars until after the Marshal's death when his son sold it to the Duke of Praslin. The chateau was a place of pride for the Duke, and while six generations of his family called Vaux home, maintaining the chateau and gardens simply became too expensive.

For 30 years Vaux-le-Vicomte was left empty and neglected until 1875 when Alfred Sommier purchased it at auction and began to bring the masterpiece back to life. Today, the chateau and gardens are managed by Jean-Charles and Alexander Vogué, the fifth generation in the family to do so.

What it means to me

I wish it could be possible for every film or television show to be filmed on-location, but time, space and money are always a factor. In the case of using Vaux-le-Vicomte for many scenes to represent the palace of Versailles it was not just because Versailles is only closed to the public on Mondays but also because the interior of the palace has changed drastically since the time of Louis XIV, unlike Vaux-le-Vicomte.

And so many iconic scenes were filmed here, such as when Louis XIV (George Blagdon) feverishly dances in the Grand Salon to the shock of the nobles watching, and the horror of his valet Bontemps (Stuart Bowman) who quickly has the windows and doors closed against prying eyes.

The love Bontemps feels for his King is perfectly portrayed, while the scene also shows how untouchable the King is. No one dares approach the King, not even his guards, when it is obvious there is something wrong. The nobles might be titillated by the odd display, but they keep safely outside of the salon and just watch. Only Bontemps is allowed to take control of the situation.

Historically, the fever that brought him close to death, and made the possibility of his brother (portrayed by Alexander Vlahos in the show) taking the throne, happened before the work on Versailles had begun, but it fits well within the Versailles season one plotline.

I loved that Saint-Cloud was represented, the facade at least, by Vaux-le-Vicomte because, as I mentioned, the original chateau was destroyed. In the show, the brother of the King does not have an easy time of it, similar to what we know of his life historically. That the chateau Philippe loved so dearly and put a lifetime of work into was destroyed just seems a tragic loss for history and for the man who is known as the grandfather of Europe. After all, it is his progeny who lived to become royalty in nearly all of Europe even to today, and not King Louis XIV's.

Best way to virtually visit

We are very lucky that Vaux-le-Vicomte partnered with Google to create a virtual tour experience of many rooms in the chateau as well as the formal gardens. For the long way around, go to:

Vaux-le-Vicomte website (you have the option to choose from several languages)

Scroll down and click “Multimedia”

Click “Virtual Tour”

Click “Google Street View” to go directly to the virtual tour options

Scroll down to see the two icons for the chateau or Gardens

Pick your choice

Or just use this link for the Google Arts & Culture page, scroll down and find the Virtual Tour icons.

I listed the longer way first because the Vaux website has so much wonderful information to explore before or after taking the virtual tour that it’s worth taking the long way around.

The Chateau option starts off in the Grand Salon. From there you can move around using the arrows or go directly into different rooms using the thumbnails at the bottom of the screen.

The Garden option drops you outside of the chateau. While you cannot move straight down the wide path, you can move left or right to continue forward along the side paths. The cool thing about this virtual tour? You can “walk” from the chateau all the way up the hill to the Hercules statue and look back down. (Note: The current Hercules statue is actually a 19th century copy of the original.)

I think this tour has made me want to visit in-person in ways few other virtual tours have, and at this point I have explored quite a few! I want to walk every inch of those garden paths even if my feet complain! And I want to take a guided tour of the chateau to hear about the incredible history and maybe get a few details only someone familiar with the history can reveal!

Thank you Vaux-le-Vicomte and Google!

You can watch all three seasons of Versailles on Netflix.

Source for the historical background of Vaux: the Vaux-le-Vicomte website

Other Sources: Personal screenshots, Google Earth, Wikipedia

Posted: November 16, 2020

[mittensmorgul]

This Must Be The Place

timestamp for  Lifetime Piling Up, 7 years later, but works as a standalone.

(2440 words, T, all the fluffs)

Read it on AO3

It’s the sort of day that leaves Cas desperate for some reminder that life isn’t all trauma and tragedy. He’s finished his shift at the hospital, where one of his patients lived and the other didn’t. It’s the reality of his life as a trauma surgeon, and he’s long ago accepted the fact he’s not God, that he can’t save everyone. It doesn’t stop him from trying.

He’s too worn out from five hours of surgery and a heart-wrenching talk with a man’s grieving family members to bother changing his clothes. Cas ditches his pristine white lab coat and slams the door of his locker. There was something he could do to turn the day around. Something impulsive, but something he’d also been planning for a long time; saving it up for the perfect moment.

Something life-affirming.

Cas pulls on his coat, the lapel catching on the hospital identification clipped to the pocket of his scrub shirt, and walks purposefully out the emergency room door. He waves to Alex the charge nurse at the desk and to a few other people who notice him leaving, but after the day he’s had nobody tries to hold him up when he looks so determined to leave. He’s grateful for that small mercy.

It’s raining as he pulls his car out of the parking garage and drives on autopilot. He sees the shop every day on his way to work and every night as he drives back home. Tonight he lucks out. There’s an empty parking spot right in front of the door, like it was meant to be. He pulls in without a second thought and shuts the engine off. He sits there for a minute, his head resting back against the seat as he basks in the welcoming glow of the blue and yellow neon sign in the window, the light streaked and shattered through the raindrops rolling down his windshield. It’s raining even harder now, and Cas just smiles to himself. It feels right. Everything feels right for once that day.

He pats down his pockets to be sure he has everything-- phone, keys, wallet-- and then readies himself for a mad sprint across the sidewalk through sheets of rain to the shelter of the shop’s awning. The familiar neon-lit window looks so different up close than it does when he’s driving past. The glowing Winchester Tattoo logo is clearly visible from the road, but the dozens of drawings that frame the sign and almost completely obscure the view into the shop from the sidewalk are another story entirely. On closer examination, each of them is easily worth a thousand words.

Cas thinks to himself that if the weather were being more cooperative he could spend hours giving every last drawing the attention it deserves. Then again, he also knows he’d only be delaying the inevitable. He’d talked himself into this months ago, and then waited so long for this moment. He wasn’t about to talk himself out of it now. This was definitely what he wanted, so why would the thought of actually going through with it fill him with dread?

He’s a surgeon, dammit. He has no trouble helping others deal with physical pain, but this is something potentially far more terrifying than that. This would be forever.

Cas closes his eyes, heaves in a fortifying lungful of cold, humid air and then opens the door. He’s greeted with a warm, inviting roil of heat and light and sound. The tinkling of a dozen tiny bells hanging above the door provides an uncanny counterpoint to Led Zeppelin playing on the stereo, several quiet conversations and the intermittent buzzing of a tattoo gun. It’s the strangest combination of things to inspire a feeling of ease and contentment, but as he looks around the warmly lit shop and acknowledges its occupants Cas can’t help feeling an inviting sense of home .

The man behind the front counter hunches over a sketch as a customer describes the artwork he’s commissioning, pointing out a detail that the artist erases and then redraws to the customer’s satisfaction. The artist sets his pencil down and continues to study his work, standing up straight and clasping his hands behind his back as he arches into a stretch. The sleeves of his incongruous white lab coat ride up revealing strong arms covered in vibrant tattoos, heaven and hell, light and darkness, somehow both perfectly at home together as if he carried a piece of each extreme in either hand. Cas can’t help the quiet laugh at the sight, how similar the coat is to the one he’d left at the hospital, and yet how startlingly different this one appears in context draped over the shoulders of this beautiful man who looks more like a punk rocker with his faded Metallica t-shirt and ink-stained fingers than a medical professional.

Where his coat is embroidered Dr. Castiel Novak above the pocket, the artist has chosen to create his own name tag in a swirling riot of color. The name Dean is written in a bold script across a hand-drawn banner surrounded by bird wings and wildflowers. Cas wonders what his colleagues would think if he showed up at the hospital with a similar badge, and laughs a bit louder.

He finally garners a glance from Dean, who gives him a little nod and a wink to let him know he’ll be with him shortly. Cas nods back and then distracts himself by observing the shop’s other occupants. One artist, a young blonde woman, is entirely focused on her work while the man in her chair whimpers through the pain of a shoulder tattoo. Another older artist meticulously sets up her station for one of the customers waiting on the sofa off to Cas’s left. The three girls look barely old enough to be getting tattooed at all, yet they eagerly flip through the photo albums labeled with each of the artist’s names-- Claire, Jody, Donna, and of course Dean-- commenting on the pictures as they wonder in equal measure at how good they look and how much each one must’ve hurt. He’s entirely bemused by the girls when he hears Dean finishing up with his client.

“So if you’re good with that, I can fit you in next Tuesday at four,” Dean says to the man, who nods and hands over fifty bucks as a deposit.

“Sounds good to me,” the man says. “Been wanting to get that done for years.”

Dean puts the money in the cash drawer and prints out a receipt that doubles as an appointment reminder while Cas sidles up to get a closer look at the artwork. It’s two birds in flight, circling around each other, that he recognizes as arctic terns. Cas glances up at the man, who catches him looking but only smiles back at him.

“For me and my wife,” he says. “Arctic terns mate for life, but they’ve got the longest migration of any birds in the world. Their entire lives are one endless road trip together. Well, in a manner of speaking.” The man laughs.

Cas glances at Dean to see him smiling curiously at him, as if he’s waiting to see what Cas has to say on the subject-- of tattoos or arctic terns or gruff old men deciding that’s how they want to commemorate the love of their life.

“Congratulations on finally going through with the tattoo, and for having someone you cherish to share your life with. It’s a beautiful piece.”

Dean’s smile brightens for a moment at Cas’s reply, his green eyes filling with a captivating mirth.

“So,” Dean says, leaning in and making a show of reading the identification badge still clipped to Cas’s shirt, “Dr. Novak, what brings a classy, upstanding doctor like you into my humble little den of iniquity tonight? Just getting out of the rain for a minute, or are you thinking about getting a tattoo?”

The customer belts out a startling laugh, but Cas pays him no mind.

“I noticed you’re still open, and I’ve had an idea for a tattoo for a while now. Would you prefer I schedule an appointment, or are you free right now?”

Dean looks him up and down and grins. “For you? I think I can spare a couplea minutes. What are you thinking?”

The girls on the sofa giggle at the unfolding drama, whispering to each other behind their hands. Mr. Arctic Terns says what the girls are either too polite or too shy to say aloud.

“Ooh, are you sure about that? You’re a doctor, you must know it hurts, and how painful the laser is for folks who regret their ink later.”

Cas smiles mildly at the man and slides off his coat, laying it on the counter beside Dean’s sketchpad. “Yes, I’m fully aware.” He continues stripping off his scrub top, the ID badge clinking against the glass countertop as he sets it down as well, leaving him in a heather grey long-sleeved henley that clings to the defined muscles of his shoulders, back and arms. Dean raises an eyebrow but doesn’t otherwise object to the strip tease.

The other customer nods seriously as Dean folds his arms across his chest and bites his lip to keep from laughing aloud. Cas appreciates it, as well as the mischievous glint in Dean’s eyes.

“I’m just saying, medicine doesn’t seem like a profession that looks kindly on tattoos.” He turns to Dean. “No offense to your profession, but I ain’t never seen a doctor with ink.”

Cas just sighs and casts a wistful look at Dean, who shrugs and waits to see what he’ll do next. Jody’s finished setting up her station but she stands back beside Claire, whose tattoo gun has gone quiet as they both watch and wait to see what will happen next. Even the three giggling girls are practically holding their breath at this unusual series of events. Cas barely even registers their presence as he reaches down and tugs up the hem of his henley, then whips it over his head.

“I dare say you’ve seen at least one tattooed surgeon,” Cas says, never taking his eyes from Dean and only peripherally registering the little gasps from the three girls at the unveiling. Not only is Cas a physical work of art himself, his skin is all but covered in glorious illustration.

“Well then,” Arctic Tern Guy says, scratching his head and then moving toward the door with a little chuckle. “Guess you learn something new every day. I’ll see you Tuesday, Dean,” he says, and then the bells tinkle and a gust of cold wind sends a shiver across Cas’s exposed back before the door shuts again behind him.

Cas’s shoulders settle again like a bird folding his wings, which is the visual illusion he gives with the broad set of wings tattooed across his shoulder blades and down his arms past his elbows. Above the wings and up to the base of his neck is an expanse of outer space, the black punctuated by bright stars and a glowing pink and purple depiction of the Heart Nebula, the greenish streak of a comet piercing it like an arrow. Below his wings blooms a garden of vines and wildflowers populated by a dozen or more frolicking bees. Heavens and Earth.

Through the entire show, Dean and Cas just smile at each other until Dean finally cracks. “Guess you told him, sunshine.”

Cas just shrugs and-- to the three girls’ dismay-- begins dressing again. “It always disappoints me when people assume that the appearance of someone’s skin has any bearing on their competence or their professionalism.”

“You’re a regular crusader,” Dean adds, also looking a little disappointed that Cas put his shirt back on. “So did you just stop in to fight social injustice?”

Cas steps up close to the counter, reaching into the back pocket of his dark blue scrub pants and shaking his head. “No, I really am interested in another tattoo, and I believe you’re the only person I’d trust with it.”

Dean’s smile returns. “Well I hope I’m worthy of that kinda faith.”

Cas nods, slowly edging his way around the end of the counter until he’s practically toe to toe with Dean. “You’ve proven that to me over and over again, every day for the last seven years. I hope I’m worthy in return.” He drops down onto one knee and holds out his hand, a simple gold ring in his outstretched palm. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t ever want to imagine a day without you in it. I love you, Dean. Will you marry me?”

Dean stares down at him for a second, and that terror that had held Cas back from asking sooner begins to creep up inside him. The pain of a tattoo needle’s got absolutely nothing on this. But Dean blinks and then pulls Cas to his feet, grabbing him up in a tight hug and planting an awkwardly sloppy and slightly frantic kiss on him as Dean tells him yes over and over again.

“Hot damn,” Claire’s client says and the rest of the shop erupts in a chorus of delighted awws.

Relief and joy flood through Cas, washing away his entirely baseless fear and making room for the certainty that Dean will always be his. Jody and Claire offer them fond congratulations, as do the three girls, before Jody brings one of them back to her station and she and Claire both get back to work.

“That was unexpected,” Dean says the minute everyone’s attention moves on from them, and admiring the way the ring looks on his hand before pulling Cas in for another kiss. “How long you been planning that one?”

Cas shrugs. “A long time. Years, maybe. On some level, probably since the first time I walked into your shop.”

Dean nods, too overcome to even tease him. He clears his throat and leans against the counter, pulling Cas close. “So did you really have another tattoo in mind? Or was that just an excuse to come see me at work?”

“I gave you a ring, and I was hoping you’d be willing to give me one too.”

It’s a ring he’ll never be able to remove, and one he’d never want to. When Dean’s finished inking it into his skin, he removes his gold band and teaches Cas how to give his very first tattoo. It’s the sort of day that’s marked indelibly in their skin, and all the way down to their souls.

(thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it and haven’t read Lifetime Piling Up, here’s a link to the whole series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559668)

[rokutouxei]

sunlight; triptych illuminated

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark

gen | platonic vincent/mc/theo | 2621 https://archiveofourown.org/works/19740670

notes: slight spoilers; slightly based off of vincent’s route (first few chapters), but altered to a great degree + historical stuff included. 

anonymous requested: I'm just really interested in how the brothers would react to meeting someone who loves Vincent's work and yet gives theo the time of day.

author’s notes: hey requester, I love the van gogh bros, so, thank you so much for asking for this + I took major liberties with MC’s work + my dutch level is “google translate” so bear with me

The morning after you wandered into the mansion, you make your way through its carpeted halls to find yourself in front of the door of Vincent van Gogh’s room, his jacket folded neatly in your arms. You have three major objectives: to return his jacket, to thank him for saving you last night, and to apologize for being so scared and making it seem like you don’t trust him after all that. The last you want to do is make him feel bad for nothing.

You take a deep breath. You hold your hand over the door, hovering, hesitating on knocking. Your mind bends over backward trying to comprehend what is about to happen.

When that door opens, you will come face to face with Vincent van Gogh—one of the (your?) world’s most famous artists, and from the smell of paint that wafts out, you’ll surely see him in his element, working in his room-turned-studio. He will not be quite the Vincent van Gogh you know from your history books—vampire, blond hair, there’s been a lot you had to absorb recently—but if the words of the Comte were to be believed, this Vincent really is who he says he is. And even now, as a vampire, he continues to paint like he did in his past life, non-stop.

For a moment, worry sits in you—would you be bothering? Would he be mad at you? Is he upset with you? But when you think of the artworks that wait for you inside the room, all your fear disappears.

“Sir Vincent?”

One knock, two.

No answer.

“Sir Vincent? Are you in there?”

You press your ear against the door and you hear someone fumbling with items: paint tubes, you figure, a palette, maybe brushes.

You knock again. Twice. Thrice.

No answer.

You reach for the doorknob and realize that the door is unlocked; gently, you make your way into the room.

Scattered canvases everywhere. The floor is decorated with dried paint. There’s a yellow sofa at the end of the room—it’s the most furniture the room has. At the center of the room stands an easel, facing you. Still mostly blank, there’s a patch of yellow paint on it that the painter is slowly giving shape. You see Vincent, with his back to you, holding a palette in one hand and a brush in the other.

Your heart jumps in your chest.

 “Um… Sir Vincent?”                    

Finally, he turns around to face you, eyes wide. “Oh, hi,” he mumbles out, as if he had been lost in thought.

“Good morning,” you say, finally fully stepping inside. “I came to return your jacket…and to thank you for last night.”

He takes the jacket from your hands, puts it on the sofa nearby. Then facing you, he smiles in a way that makes all your walls melt. “It’s okay, no need for that. I’m sorry if I scared you out there.”

“No, not at all,” you say, even stepping forward toward him, to make a point. “I was just… really out of it. I shouldn’t have been scared of you—you were only looking out for me. And thank you for that, sir Vincent.”

“You know,” he sing-songs, “‘Vincent’ is fine. You can drop the ‘sir’. I want to be friends with you—you don’t need to be all formal.”

“S-sure,” you say, “Vincent.” You smile back, trying to come to terms with calling him so casually, like this wasn’t one of the painters you’ve always looked up to your whole life—in the flesh.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to say something,” Vincent says, moving toward you. “Ah, do I have paint on my face? I usually do…”

“Oh, no, I’m just,” scrambling for words, “you’re painting, aren’t you? I shouldn’t—interrupt. I should get going. Thank you again, for last night.”

“You’re not interrupting,” he says, making some sort of awkward welcoming motion with his hands. He turns back to his canvas and it’s as if he suddenly remembers he’s midway through something. “Painting alone can get rather lonely, and I’d love company, of course.”

“Really?” You try not to sound too excited, but you’re sure it’s too obvious anyway, because he chuckles. You’d just seen an angel laugh—you’re sure of it. “I mean, it’d be an honor. I won’t bother, I’ll just—” you gesture towards the stack of paintings at the other end of the room. “Can I look?”

“Of course,” he says. “But mind the wet paint. We don’t want your pretty dress ruined.”

Vincent keeps watch over you as you browse through the paintings, careful of the canvases. He doesn’t even get to pick up his brush and palette, watching your expressions shift and change with every flip of a painting. You’ve never gotten to touch a van Gogh work, you wouldn’t have dreamt of it, but here you are now, surrounded by what seems like a hundred, all at once. Dozens of paintings; landscapes, portraits, still-life. Flowers, fruits, wine. Bakers, children, farmers. It’s as if Vincent has taken everything 19th century France could offer him and placed it in a canvas. You get lost browsing through what seems like a lifetime’s worth of paintings stacked haphazardly over each other on the floor.

You don’t notice how long you’ve been looking at these… masterpieces, open-mouthed, until you hear Vincent chuckle—again! Cheeky angel!—from behind you.

“Wh-what is it?” you ask him, suddenly self-conscious.

He smiles. Sunshine floods the room. “Oh, no, don’t worry,” he says, “it’s just that, you make the same face Theo makes when he’s looking at paintings.”

Your face crumples at being compared to his demon of a brother, which only makes him laugh.

“Theo’s like that, but he’s really good at what he’s doing,” he tells you. “And he has so much love for it.”

Just about as much love as he has for you, you nearly say, thinking of hundreds of letters kept away and a brother held against his chest. Something painful cuts your heart but you try not to let it show—after all, this isn’t your history, but theirs. But before you can even drop off to a story that could be different from what they know, Vincent ruffles your hair gently to take the frown off your face.

“Should I take you on a tour?” he offers. “Of the paintings.”

“Oh!” you beam. “That’d be great!”

Off he goes. These, he says, were painted the previous winter—fields of white and icy blue, towns coated in snow, houses lit with the gentle orange glow of lamps, the light gray of smoke coming out from chimneys. He has paintings of the seaside, that one time he went with Theo (Theo, he calls his brother, urges you to call him the same; Theo, not Theodorus) to the southern side of the country, at once familiar and yet different from what he used to know. He tells the stories behind portraits and landscapes, and your heart beats faster at the idea that you’re having an art tour from The Vincent van Gogh.

“Oh, this one looks very familiar,” you say, unable to help it, hand grazing gently along the edges of a canvas. The swirls; the uses of deep blues and near-blacks in contrast with nearly blinding yellow; you didn’t need to be a van Gogh expert to see how similar this was to that other painting. “Just like Sterrennacht.”

Vincent’s eyes grow wide at the mention of the title. It takes you only a moment to realize you hadn’t seen it in this world—but in your world. You prepare yourself for the barrage of questions, but there is none that come. Vincent seems deep in thought, gaze moving from you, to the painting your hand is on. The look in his eyes make it seem like he’s teleported to a completely different time, in a completely different place.

You put your other hand on his shoulder and gently shake him. “Vincent?”

Three words tumble out of his mouth. “You’ve seen… Sterrennacht.”

Well, yes, but who hasn’t seen The Starry Night? you almost blurt out. But this time you’re a little bit more careful of what comes out of your mouth. “I… have,” you say gently, pressing your lips together. “You see I… In my own world, I used to tour a lot of museums, to tell people about them, and the art in them. I’ve seen your paintings in a lot of museums, Vincent. Even one named after you.”

“After me?”

You wonder what face he would make, if you brought him to your world, let him stand in front of the majestic building that is the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. What he would think if you told him that his paintings can be found all over the world, looked at and admired by millions of people, both by art enthusiasts and painting novices alike.

Vincent is still stunned into silence when his brother Theo knocks and enters the room, finding Vincent still as a rock, frozen in time next to you, and you sheepishly smile at Theo when you make eye contact with him.

“Hondje. What did you do to my brother?”

Look, you’re no master of Dutch, but you know what that word meant, at least. Your face scrunches up. “Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Theo, no,” Vincent says, breathless, “don’t call her that. You have to hear what she just told me.”

Theo is obedient; he enters the room, closes the door, and then makes quick strides to the both of you. Vincent grasps his brother’s arm, and when he looks up, you realize the look in his eyes is full wonder.

“What did you tell him, hondje?”

“You seriously have to drop that nickname if you want me to respect you.”

“Musea, Theo, museums,” Vincent says. “In her world, they have my paintings in museums. Many museums. A museum named after us. Theo. Ongelooflijk!”

Unbelievable? Not for you. Theo turns to you, his gaze sharp but softened by wonder. Or relief? “Is this true?”

You can only manage to nod.

“That’s… amazing,” is all Theo can say, and he scans his eyes over the paintings you were just browsing with Vincent. Maybe he’s dreaming of a near future like that—these paintings in elaborately carved frames, hung from starkly painted walls, easily accessible to everyone. Maybe he sees the possibility in every work of art Vincent makes.

Just like he used to, in his past life.

“I, I used to study art, in, in my world,” you say, stammering. You don’t know where to begin—but you have to tell them how much they mean to you! You scramble for words. “It was my life. Going around looking at art. I loved art. I still do! Studying histories of paintings, painters, art styles… and, I can’t… I can’t explain well enough how big of an impact the both of you have done to changing the art scene. Vincent’s pretty famous, after all.”

“Beroemd!” Vincent’s smiling from ear to ear.

“Seriously!” you say, and you lose yourself in your shared joy. “And Vincent—wouldn’t be here without you too, Theo. The world knows. The letters you kept—the things you’ve done,” you hold on to the hem of his sleeve, before looking at the both of them, “you’re both the reason I am where I am now.” You are breathless. “Well, not, literally, but, in all the other ways. It’s really an honor, to at least tell you this.”

Theo reaches out a hand to ruffle your hair. “Think you’re a bringer of hope now?”

“It’s just, so much happened,” you say, gushing. You know the story, and you don’t see how it’d hurt to tell them. You put one hand on your waist and begin to speak: “Well, you see, after your—your deaths, your w—”

But then you feel the gentle touch of Theo’s finger on your lips, stopping you mid-sentence.

“Hou op!” Theo says, but he has a smirk on his face. “You’re getting too excited.”

“Thank you for telling us about this,” Vincent says, his smile bright and without compare. “I feel like I can paint more, even more, even better, from now on. But won’t you keep the rest of the story a secret for us?”

“The rest of the story… meaning the events after your,” you pause, “deaths. The hows. The… everything else.”

You’re lost. Why wouldn’t they want to know? Wouldn’t it be some sort of comfort to know that later down the line, in the near visible future, all that they’d worked so hard for will come to light? Isn’t it a good thing for you to tell them how they’d ended up that way?

With one hand on your shoulder, Theo explains. “See, the ‘hows’ doesn’t matter now, because we’ll find a way to make it happen here too,” he says proudly. “We’re going to make it the reality. We’re going to make it even better.”

Theo smiles like he is invincible.

It is in that moment that you are overcome with emotion. Learning about these things in lecture halls and in between the pages of history books is so far away from being right here, right now, standing in front of two men who willingly submitted themselves to a new eternity of life to do what they’ve loved and long wanted to keep doing their whole lives. Right now, in front of you, are the near-legendary van Gogh brothers—their eyes filled with passion, and purpose.

You fling your arms around Theo’s neck and bring him down for a crushing hug.

“I know you can do it,” you say, press your face against his shoulder, wonderstruck. “If it’s you, and Vincent, then I’m sure you can do it. You did it before. You did an amazing job. You did your best. You gave it all you could give, no matter the cost to yourself. And it blossomed, you know? It did. Even if it wasn’t by your own hands back then—the seeds you planted, they blossomed, that’s for sure. And I know you can do it again.”

“Hondje…”

Tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes, but you hide it by turning to Vincent and pulling him into a hug as well. “You’re such a strong person. You’re the strongest person I know. You just wanted to keep painting. You just wanted to express your love for the world through the things you painted. I know. You were filled with love but you were hurting so deeply, and the world didn’t have the means to help you. You don’t deserve—the bad things that happened to you. And I know—I know you can make even better things now. Forever. And that’s what matters. The things you do now.”

You feel Theo’s arms wrap around you and his brother, and you rest in the warmth. Tears flow freely down your cheeks now; but it doesn’t matter. There is so much more you can say, but the words overlap in your brain into a quiet hush of reassured excitement. You think of the paintings you’d seen in Musée d’Orsay before you went to the Louvre. You think of the Van Gogh Museum. You think of all the people you’d seen, their eyes open and lovestruck at the things that these two legends have left in history.

“I hope you guys know you’re amazing!”

For a long, quiet moment, the three of you stay in the comfort of each other’s arms, thinking of the future, framed by the sunlight reflecting off of Vincent’s paintings.

[inexpensiveprogress]

Why I don’t like Ben Nicholson

It was at an exhibition at Kettles Yard (before the new extension and when they had wonderful exhibitions about the items in Jim Ede’s historic collection) that I thought Ben Nicholson was an insecure fraud, what amazes me is how many people adore him. Though someone I spoke to told me that his white abstracts and etchings are popular because they fit in any room, they become perfect for collectors.

The chameleon of art Ben Nicholson moves from friend to friend like an artistic vampire, sucking up their style and way of painting until his paintings look just like theirs. In my view he did have talent but, no direction for it, and that is where the insecurity is. I just find it confusing why all the artists he was around are now seen to be in his shadow, while he a poor shadow of their work. 

Nicholson was born in Denham, Buckinghamshire, and was the son of the artists Sir William Nicholson and Mabel Pryde. He studied at the Slade School of Art, 1910-11. He spent 1912 to 1914 in France and Italy, and was in the United States in 1917-18. He married the artist Winifred Roberts in 1920. Over the next three years they spent winters in Lugano, Switzerland, then divided their time between London and Cumberland. In 1931, Nicholson's relationship with the sculptor Barbara Hepworth resulted in the breakdown of his marriage to Winifred. He and Hepworth married in 1938 and divorced in 1951.

 Christopher Wood - Cumberland Landscape, 1928

 Ben Nicholson - Cumberland Landscape, 1930 

Naturally there are good and bad points about Nicholson, in some ways he was a bully in other ways he was a well connected person who could put artists in contact with dealers. One of those was when Nicholson and Christopher Wood discovered Alfred Wallis, a fisherman who turned shop keeper until his wife died. Wallis had taken up painting as a hobby like many Victorians. Then he would have been called an ‘amateur painter’, today he would be called an ‘outsider artist’. I think both Nicholson and Wood could see a primitive painter who had no desire to paint copies of art he liked (like most Victorian amateur painters) - but painted the life he knew and could see. His paintings sold for two shillings each and Jim Ede was motivating galleries in London to sell his work too.

Wallis was not a rich man, he painted on whatever he could find: Old board, paper and the inside of tins or driftwood. Though highlighting Wallis to the world it could be argued that Nicholson was making himself look more important, I think this is flippant - but what I find more interesting is that Wallis is as natural and shocking to the artwork at that time as one of Duchamp’s ready-made objects.

 Ben Nicholson - Untitled - Cornish Port, 1930s 

The moment I knew I was angry at Nicholson was when I saw his works inspired from being around Alfred Wallis. It isn’t the painting, it was the way Nicholson had snapped the corners off to make it look authentically impoverished - that was the moment I knew the man was a shit. He wasn’t an artist who was inspired by his contemporaries, he was a vampire to them.

 Alfred Wallis - Two Boats', Alfred Wallis, c.1928 

In order to level my argument out - I will say how good it was that Wallis did live to see his work in major galleries. The Metropolitan Museum of New York bought one of his paintings in his lifetime, but he still found it hard to make a living. Nicholson and Wood included him in the Seven & Five Societyʼs exhibition in 1929 as a guest member, but over the next decade his work was only collected by a small circle of other artists and collectors of modern art. He did end up in the workhouse after suffering from delusions and paranoia of his new found fame.

Wallis believed that his neighbours resented his fame, believing him to be secretly rich. In one of his last letters, to Ede, he wrote:

i am thinkin of givin up The paints all to gether i have nothin But Persecution and gelecy [jealousy] and if you can com [come] down for an hour or 2 you can take them with you and give what they are worf [worth] afterwards. These drawers and shopes are all jealous of me. ‡

When Wallis was in the workhouse he appealed to Nicholson for money to buy his freedom but he sent him a box of paints to work his way out.

Nicholson, since 1928, had groomed Wallis with gifts, and that patronage and his collection of Wallis paintings brought out his competitive side. (Sven) Berlin succinctly tells us that there were discussions of how they could help Wallis but his suggestion that a collection should be made among artists and writers came to nothing. †

It was Adrian Stokes who organised the grave for Alfred Wallace to be in St Ives Cemetery with a sea-view rather than the Salvation Army and pauper’s grave he was given by the workhouse. Bernard Leach made the ceramic tiles that decorate his grave

 The Grave of Alfred Wallis with lighthouse tile design by Bernard Leach

The confusing state of the 7&5 Society 

The Seven and Five Society was an art group consisting mainly of ex-servicemen who had been art students before the war. Their goal was to exhibit  work rather than have a bold manifesto or be tied to an art style. It was easier to exhibit work in large numbers as the cost would be reduced on mass. The society was set up in 1920 but in 1924 Ben Nicholson was made a member. He more or less became a cuckoo in the nest for the group and elected his friends as members. In 1929 the group added the new members of Christopher Wood, Cedric Morris, Sidney Hunt, William Staite Murray, Frances Hodgkins, Jessica Dismorr, Evie Hone, Edward Wolfe and David Jones, as well as Alfred Wallis as a guest exhibitor. Nicholson voted to change the name to the ‘7 & 5 Society’ to look more modernist but failed to get the group changed to ‘7 & 5 Abstract Group’. The old members were confused and angry that their group was being steamrolled into following his way and with his elected friends Nicholson could vote in new rules. One new rule was that exhibitions were to be non-representational and the hanging committee were only empowered to select and hang abstract. This move finally segregated the original members. The reaction was the departure of a number of artists in 1934: Edward Bawden, John Aldridge, Frances Hodgkins, Cedric Morris, Len Lye and Percy Jowett. Replacement members and exhibitors included John Piper, Arthur Jackson and John Cecil Stephenson, all of whom worked in a non-representational manner. After this point the group renamed itself as the ‘Seven and Five Abstract Group’ in 1935 but only had one show after that point and the group was disbanded.

This post all comes to a division of the man and the art - like the music of Michael Jackson, the architecture of Albert Speer and some of the work of Nicholson, the men in this list are not as worthy as the work.

† David Wilkinson - The Alfred Wallis Factor: Conflict in Post-War St Ives Art, 2017 ‡ Wikipedia - Alfred Wallis 

[franeridart]

Hey! So sorry if you already answered this but what application and tablet do you use??

I use Easy Paint Tool SAI and a pretty old wacom intuos tablet! Both questions are answred in my faq, actually~

Anon said:You. You awesome person. You are my new fav artist. 💘💘💘

AW thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:I love your art and the style, it’s all so cute and it might give me a heart attack

He c k let’s hope not! Thank you so so much!!! ;^;

Anon said:hey, can ya do more tokage, pls

Sure, I mean to draw more 1B in the future anyway~

Anon said:nori is soo adorable!! I love your art and seromina so much and seeing them combined makes me mega happy!!! I gotta ask though, how are sero and mina as parents and how do they handle nori’s quirk?

They’re disasters as parents but they try their best and are always having fun - Nori adores them! In their house not a minutes goes by without someone laughing, they’re all super loud and cheerful always~ neither of them has any problem dealing with Nori’s quirk, Sero has spent a whole lifetime learning how to deal with sticky stuff and tape and glue so he knows all the tricks to save clothes and furniture from accidental quirk usage and so on, while Mina’s own quirk makes it easy to counter any glue that might end on her - the main thing actually is that the quirk itself was a surprise! Since Nori looks a lot like Mina, both she and Sero had expected her to have acid like Mina so when she started gluing herself around in places and walking along walls and stuff it was a surprise (they had expected to have to deal with the house being constantly half destroyed by acid though, so glue is nothing compared to that haha)

Anon said:Heyy I saw your twitter account and was wondering if you could link some of those “fics about them boys sharing a bed..“ I’ve been following you for a while now and absolutely love your work (: I hope you don’t mind lol. I need more kiribaku in my life gahaha ❤️ thanks !!

I didn’t really bookmark any and most were old things I had read in the past and spent time rereading lately, but the newest one I read is this one - honestly though at this point 99% of the fics set in the dorms have them sharing a bed, you just need to open ao3 and scroll down less than a page to find stuff lol

Anon said:If you’re not an Adventure Time fan this ask will make no sense to you (so skip it), but when I saw your drawing of Katsuki with a guitar, I immediately thought he was singing some edgy Marceline song, like the teasing-aggressive “I wanna bury you in the ground / I wanna bury you with my sound” (which he actually says at some point I think XD) or the romantic and melancholic “Slow Dance with You” and Eijirou M-E-L-T-S.

Not an AT fan, but the concept is adorable so I’m keeping the ask anyway

Anon said:Do you think you might draw more of your fantasy AU children while you’re playing with you’re new pencil tool? It would be neat if you did! Regardless, I’m grateful for anything you draw!

Yup! Can’t promise when it’ll happen but I love the fantasy AU and I love childhood friends AU, so the chances of me going back on it are pretty high!

Anon said:Are you going to draw Mako and Taiyou again? They are so wonderful.

YAH that’s definitely in the near future plans! Thank you for liking them!!

Anon said:I just…I love all your art. It’s so amazing you’re awesome

THANK YOU SO MUCH !!!! ;^;

Anon said:Stavo scorrendo il tuo blog e ho notato che hai risposto ad una domanda in italiano? Ho seriamente pensato fossi inglese tutto questo tempo! Amo seriamente i tuoi disegni, i tuoi oc sono meravigliosi e non vedo l'ora di scoprire più di loro.

AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH grazie infinite omfg ;^; specialmente per i miei oc, è sempre incredibile per me sapere che alla gente piacciono abbastanza da volerli vedere di più ;^;

Anon said:Hewwo! I’m a huge fan of your artwork!! I was wondering if you have any time could you draw some more of those dorm room scenarios?

Anon I’m sorry but I need you to be more specific, which dorm room scenarios are you talking about? Most of my comics at this point are set in the dorms hahaha

Anon said:I just noticed that on every artwork you sign “do not repost” and I hate it.I don’t hate that you do it, but the fact you NEED to do it. Artists all over the Internet say to not repost their art but people still do it…I hope this will stop someday Sorry for my english btw

Yeah well, I guess as long as people keep on following and giving notes to reposters that’s not really gonna change is it orz

Anon said:You should draw Present Mic x Aizawa *awkward finger guns*

Hell I really should, shouldn’t I

Anon said:my god im gay for your kiribaku like they’re so good aibdjsbsknwnx and i love the interactions between the bakusquad ahh keep being awesome :)

HECK THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!

Anon said:Honestly, this might be an odd question I don’t know, but would you ever consider putting your art together in a art book to sell? Cause to be honest, there’s not a piece by you that I don’t adore and I’ve seen some artist do things like that before so I didn’t know if that was something you’d consider. Maybe like all your BNHA pieces or something?

It’s not like I never considered it? It’s more like I dunno how worth all the work to figure out how to make it/where to print it and then to actually make it would be compared to the interest people would have in buying something they can have for free on my blog? It’s just doodles after all haha

Anon said:Would you be willing to draw a little lavi (dgm) doodle for me? Anything tiny, I just love him and your art!!!

I’m not doing requests right now, sorry, but soon enough the new chapter is coming out so I might draw him around then!!! I always fall in a serious dgm mood around the time of the chapter release haha

Anon said:More abuse of the ask function: 1- I love your art and have been for months. On top of that, it often feels cathartic, which is amazing to me. 2- I love how balanced you can make KiriBaku. You even manage to make me appreciate that overrated attention hogger that is Bakugou, you can handle him so much better than the author, because your character dynamics make so much more sense!! 3- I always, ALWAYS find myself reading through all your tags. They’re awesome. Thank you for everything.//Avevo finito lo spazio nell'ask precedente, so I’d only like to add that aside from cutie-smoochy (“It’s not about whether you break” and “I don’t need you” might be my favorite, and for what’s worth, I remember writing something exactly like the latter in the past), you also make mu burst into laughter. Like, the comic where Katsuki is about to out Eijirou on his red hair, I am still rolling. Kiri’s giant mouth is seriously hysterical XD

Thank you for the compliments!! I’m glad I can make you like a character and a relationship you’re not much of a fan of in the actual manga? ? ? Bakugou’s actually one of my favorite characters ever though so………. maybe……….don’t offend him and the way Horikoshi writes him while talking to me………….orz

Anon said:I am starved for Bakukamikiri stuff in this fandom……..But you got some good shit.

I’m!!! happy to be able to help there!!!! haha

Anon said:They mama Mitsuki art you drew 👏💯💖☺️💕👌 I love your art so much

THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Yessssss you have Twitter! It is boring at the beginning but then you’ll love it! I can’t wait to see you here and there! Now all my Bakushima favorite artist have one I can die of happiness!!

I’m!!!!!!!!!! Still trying to figure it out but!!!!!!!! For now it’s not that bad? Just!!! Very different from tumblr so I’ll need to get used to it first!!!!

Anon said:Omg do u shade jirous hair like its a heartbeat line? Dhdisbdisb thats so fuckibg good

THANK she actually has it in canon too, tho, so I can’t take credit for this!!!

Anon said:Im crying on how you draw kirishima’s soft hair

S O B I’m glad you like it!! ;^;

Anon said:Can I ask what your stance is on bakugo’s mom being abusive and sorry if you’ve answered this before

I love Mitsuki with my whole heart and while I don’t think she’s perfect I do think she’s loving and caring and trying her best and always looking out for what’s best for Bakugou 👍 no abuse anywhere, for me

Anon said:OMG I LOVE SEROMINA LOVE CHILD NORI

Thank you for liking her???? heck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:I wish I could use your art for my phone’s background ;^; You’re amazing! I love youuuuuuuuuu

No one’s stopping you from doing that, anon!!! Unless you don’t have a phone that allows you backgrounds, in which case ;-; thank you for liking my stuff that much tho!!

Anon said:Hey! I followed you way back when your main output was haikyuu!! comics and once you started putting out more bnha, i had to unf because i had no idea who everyone was rip. but now that ive finally had the chance to watch it i’m glad to come back and see how much you’ve improved!

HECK THANK YOU???? I’m glad you decided to come back????? oh man that’s super flattering !!!

Anon said:Yolo bakusquad bakubowl ?

I don’t really like the whole concept of [character]bowl, sorry!

Anon said:I absolutely adore your art style😍 every time I see your art it makes me happy:)

THANK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Can you draw Hawks and Tokoyami together? You are rlly creative and amazing! So I believe you will produce sth. awesome!!!! (If you don’t want to draw Hawks, could you draw a Tokoyami fusion?)

I can draw that! I’m just waiting to know how tall Hawks is compared to him before doing that 👍 be patient pls relative heights are something I’m stupidly fussy about 

Anon said:Burn the whole world to ashes for you? R U serius?! You always killing me dude. I ascended to the heaven of soft things. I N C R E D I B L E. Im sorry for the break down, i was without tumblr 2 months and the firts thing i do is go to your profile. Keep doing this plis im trully love it 😭💖

mAN I’m so glad you liked that one this much, drawing the boys being unreasonably soft with each other is my fav thing to do tbh !!!

Anon said:Omg I can totally imagine Nori and bakushima’s daughter being friends!!!

THEY ARE !!!!!!!

Anon said:Your seromina is amazing!!! I love that ship I feel like it is so underrated! Thank you for this blessed image!! 😭

No prob!! thank you for liking it!!!!!!! I’ve been in such a seromina mood lately, I might actually draw more soon enough!!

Anon said:Omg imagine a Tetsuwase love child. Something tells me they’d be adorable and one rather angry child, considering who their fathers are

I can see them as being quiet and grumpy………. hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Anon said:Hey just wanted to tell you I love your art. It’s so soft and beautiful. My dad doesn’t ship any characters from the series, but he does like the series and he thinks your art and style are really pleasing. We were talking about how nicely you shade and that the style is well developed and lovely to look at. Thanks for making such great art that makes me smile and giving me and my dad yet another thing to bond over.

YO THAT’S SUCH A COOL THING TO HEAR!!!! Thank you to both you and your dad for liking my stuff????? h e c k !!!!!

Anon said:Thanks to you I started reading haikyuu.

I hope you’re enjoying it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[d2diamond]

A Year in Review

by Diamond Winters

This has been such a crazy year for me and I have to admit, I have loved every minute of it. From writing new and fun stories to meeting amazing people through Tumblr and Twitter, it has been such a great time.

I have to admit, when I first joined Tumblr back in mid-2016, it was to follow my favorite Youtubers. However, I ended up discovering this amazing anime called Yuri on Ice and my life has been changed for the better since.

I know I found YoI late in the game, not finding out about it until January of this year, but as they say, better late than never.

Since then, I have found a multitude of fantastic stories that have woken my muse and encouraged me to write my own stories. Some of those stories are the Golden Sun & Midnight Moon, All I ask, that I co-wrote with @ishxallxgood, and a collection of Short stories. Now, I’m working on a massive story for the Yuri on Ice fandom called Deck of Kingdoms that I’m very excited for, coming out in a few weeks.

With those stories that I read and enjoyed came the amazing people who wrote them. The best part, I get to now call these people my friends.

Some of those great peeps, and I know I won’t get to all of them, are here.

@paxohana You have become such a great friend. You are amazing, your wit is sharp, and your humor is on par with my own. You are a master world builder with your epic story of Met by Accident, and now it’s spin-off You Wish, and that’s only the tip of the ice-burg when it comes to your library of stories. I’m so honored to call you my friend, and  I truly look forward to a lifetime of friendship. I love you so much, lady. 

@ishxallxgood You, my dear, are my instigator, my enabler, one of my muses and a wonderful friend. I love you for being so awesome. From your wicked sense of humor to your obsessions that you pull me into, you are so much fun. You always have a smile every day, and I love talking to you to see what craziness you’re going to pull me into that day. I’m so grateful to call you my friend. I love your stories, especially Re: Yuri, because it’s so cute and so fun. I love whatever you write, but your interactions between Victor and Phichit are my favorite. 

@n3rdlif343va You have become one of my dearest friends. You are amazingly sweet, and lovely, and I smile every time I talk to you. I always feel like I’m put to shame when I read your stories, as they are so much more superior to mine. You are up there with the rest when it comes to mastering words and building beautiful stories. I love your fluff, I love your humor, I love all that is you. Thank you for giving me a chance and letting me call you my friend.

@mygeekcorner My sweet, crazy, sexy wifey! You are adorable, and I love you for it. From our crazy Skype sessions, where I get to watch you make muffins, to our flirting with gifs that drive others nuts. You are so much fun, and I always smile when I’m talking to you. I am SO looking forward to hanging out with you and Isy, (And hopefully Pax) come this spring. We are going to cause so much trouble when we meet in person. New York won’t know what hit it. Thank you, sweetie, for being my friend.

There are so many of you that have touched my life and made a huge impact. There have been days that were very bleak for me when the sunlight that shined through the window behind my monitor couldn’t penetrate the darkness of the depression that I suffer. Yet, when I come here, and I talk to you amazing people, I always find a way to smile, and be reminded, that it really will be okay and that yes, life really is still worth living.

@eclair You are a doll, and so sweet. I adore your artwork and am so grateful for your friendship! Thank you, Sweetie.

For @puppybek and your awesome job that I love talking to you about, to @yuuris-piano and your cute stories, and most amazing talent with music.

For @kymbawee and your beautify and cos-play that I really want to join you for one of these days, and how amazingly sweet you are, to @megsotaku and your talent with both writing an drawing and your lovely kindness!

For @magical-mistral and your absolute sweetness, and just beautiful drawings that I SO love, to @penciltrash for your exciting story, and your sweetness.

For @madamredwrites and your sassiness, and wicked sense of humor. I love your stories and hearing about your amazing life. (I might be a little jealous) To @phaytesworld, woman, you are amazing, and I love you and your crazy rare pairs. We need to collab one of these days. Cuz, you know, otherwise I’m just going to keep finding ways to get more chapters out of the both of you. :-P

For @rosesnfeathers and your sweetness, and kindness, and how lovely you are. To @fullmetalkarneval13 and your fun stories. You are both so wonderful to talk to.

For @jorjibearblue and teaching me new ways to see life, and giving me inspiration, to @rodiniaorzetalthepenquin for being so amazing and fun! I love your series and look forward to more. You both are such amazing talented writers.

For my sweet and beautiful @severeminx . I know you’re not on as often anymore, but I do miss you, and will always think of you. Especially when drinking a glass of wine. Please let Jane know that I miss her also, and wish her the very best for the new year.

For @chou-3 and your amazing artwork, and support. Thank you!

I’m sure I missed a few, but know that I love you all, and am SO grateful for all that you do for me. For the smiles, the laughs, the inspiration, and the kindness. You all mean so much to me.

Thank you, everyone. I really hope you have a happy holiday and an amazing new year!! I love you all!!

[pocket-anon]

The Long Way Home (6/10)

The reception for this story continues to be so generous, and I can't thank you guys enough. I spent so many months anxious about whether anyone would like this fic, whether there would still be an audience for it, whether it would be worth the hundreds thousands of hours I've spent laboring over it/thinking about it/tweaking and re-tweaking it - but you all have been incredibly sweet and supportive, and I'm so grateful to you all for cheering me on. Hope you enjoy this week's installment!

As always, thanks to my beta, @captainstudmuffin, and to @lifeinahole27, @clockadile, and @ladyciaramiggles for their additional feedback.  Additional thanks to my wonderful CSBB artists, @waiting-for-autumn and @giraffes-ride-swordfishes for providing some gorgeous artwork to accompany this fic!  Links to their illustrations of certain scenes (*) will be in the text - go show them some love!

Find it on AO3.  Nautical term glossary here.

Missed a chapter?  Get caught up here.

Summary:  After an unnaturally long life fraught with personal tragedy, Killian Jones has become known throughout the realms as the infamous Captain Hook, an opportunistic ne’er-do-well and one of the most formidable pirates to ride the waves.  When he crosses paths with a mysterious young woman with no memory of who she is or how she arrived there, he recognizes the chance to claim a monetary reward that will constitute his biggest score yet.  But a journey across the world to get her home leads to a series of adventures that reveal that her value lies in far more than gold and jewels.  A Captain Swan Anastasia AU - sort of.  (Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU.  Romance, Adventure, & Eventual Smut.  Rated E.)

Warning: Brief but graphic depictions of violence, peripheral character death, and smut.

Alec is back on his feet in several days, though he continues to be hobbled by his injury and he’s restricted to light duties like mending sails and cleaning weapons.  Swan begins to keep him company under the guise of having him teach her these skills, and when every sail is repaired and every gun, canon, sword, and dagger aboard polished to a shine, she goads him into spending another morning teaching her how to tie different kinds of sailor’s knots.

The youngest member of the crew takes her attention in stride.  “If you spend any more time with me, ma’am,” he jokes on their fourth morning together, “Cap’n’s bound to get jealous.”

Swan hums, the side of her mouth quirking.  “The Captain is a grown man who can afford not to be the center of a woman’s attention all the time,” she replies airily, picking her latest knot out of her piece of practice rope.  “Heaven knows he’s probably had enough women fawning over him to last a lifetime.”

Alec chortles and agrees with a bob of his shiny, bald head.  “Even so – and not that it’s any o’ my business, milady,” he says quietly, darting a glance up at the ship’s wheel where Hook is talking with the helmsman, “when I see a man look at a lady the way Cap’n does you, it’s generally safer t’ keep my distance.”

“Hmph.”  Swan wills her cheeks not to warm and tries to ignore the way her heartbeat quickens at the implication.  “If the Captain looks at me differently, it’s because he thinks our friendship is a good investment,” she points out.  The knot finally comes undone, and she twirls the rope triumphantly in her hands.  “And if he has expectations with regard to how I spend my time, he hasn’t told me.”

“Pretty sure he knows better than that, ma’am.”

She huffs and flashes Alec a grin, her eyes laughing. “Well, at least all his time around women has taught him a thing or two.”  She stands and offers him a hand.  “It’s almost lunchtime.  Do you have other duties, or can I walk you to the mess?”

He waves her off and grabs the wooden staff he’s been using for support.  “I think I can do it.”  He plants the staff on deck and pauses for a deep breath before he hoists himself up with a strained grunt.  Swan gasps when he suddenly hisses and teeters, an agonized sound escaping him as he crashes to the boards.

“Alec?” she yelps. She whirls toward the stern deck. “Hook?  Help!”

The Captain’s head whips around at her call, and he all but flies down the ladder, reaching them as quickly as any of the other men.  He gently nudges her to the side and kneels next to his fallen crewman.  “What is it, lad?  The leg?”

Alec groans and nods, rolling over on to his back with pain creasing his forehead.  “It’s been worse since last night,” he confesses.

Hook works quickly to untie the wide bandages encircling his thigh and carefully peels back the edges of the split in the Alec’s trouser leg, which is stiff with dried blood from the original injury.  His lips form a thin line as he peers at the exposed skin.  The flesh near the edges of the laceration is tinged a beefy red and so swollen it resembles the skin of an orange.  “This doesn’t look well,” he mutters.  He glances up at the other men standing by.  “Get him below and cut the trouser leg off,” he orders, gesturing at the soiled fabric.  “Find him a clean bandage, and no further duties until he’s healed.”  He stands up and allows Martin and Smee through so they can bear Alec up on his good leg and help him away.

Swan appears at his side, anxious.  “Will he be alright?” she asks softly.

Hook sighs, suddenly looking very world-weary.  “I don’t know,” he admits once Alec is out of earshot.  “I’ve seen the same happen to many a sailor.  We’ll watch it closely.  If it gets much worse, he may have to choose between losing the leg or losing his life.”

The color leaves her face, and he turns and wordlessly takes her hand, settling it in the crook of his left elbow as he escorts her toward the hatch leading to his quarters.  He’s silent for a few paces. “You’re worried about him.”

“Of course I am,” she replies with a puzzled frown.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No, it’s just…”  He scratches the back of his head with his brace, his eyes on his toes.  “I’m still surprised that you’ve come to care about a band of pirates, I suppose.”  His brows lift.  “Unless there’s something special about Alec?”

For some reason, the question sets Swan brimming with impatience, and she rolls her eyes, in no mood for his teasing.  “Really?” she demands.  When his only answer is an enigmatic shrug, she huffs.  “Alec’s tall and he can swing a sword, but he’s still barely more than a boy, Hook.”  She pulls a face.  “An actual boy, not a one hundred fifty year-old in a boy’s body; I know you brought him on after Neverland.”  She sighs, forehead lined with concern.  “He’s a kid, and he’s hurt and scared and… and I just thought he could use a little company these last few days.”

Hook nods slowly, his expression turning touched and a little sad as he brings his hand up to cover hers.  “You’re right,” he murmurs apologetically.  “You’ve shown him a great kindness.  We aren’t used to such things, but he needs all of it he can get now.  There’s a good chance this week does not end well for him, one way or another.”

Swan swallows the enormous lump that rises in her throat.  “Maybe he’d let me read to him,” she offers in a small voice.  It feels like so little – like nothing – but it’s all she can think of.

Hook flashes her a muted smile.  “I’m sure he’d appreciate that, love.  Few sailors are lucky enough to have a good-hearted woman to help look after them in times like this.  Your presence is a gift to this crew.”  His fingers tighten affectionately over hers, and his eyes fall back to the deck, his tone growing somewhat despondent.  “I think you’ll be sorely missed.”

She blinks rapidly at his sentiment, her mouth forming a watery little smile, and as they descend below deck to have lunch, her heart feels heavy, weighed down by the cloud of Alec’s predicament and churning with mixed feelings.  She chuffs silently.  Leave it to Killian Jones to surprise her again.  He may have tried to tease her about her relationship with Alec, but contrary to his crewman’s suggestion, he doesn’t seem jealous – not really.  She should be glad for that, impressed by that.  Instead she feels more than a tiny prick of disappointment.  And more than a little vexed at how she feels.

Lunch is quiet, the mood solemn, and though she catches Hook’s eyes on her from time to time, the pair of them remain largely lost in their own thoughts.  Swan finishes quickly and hops up to select a book for Alec. “What do you think he’d like?” she muses, walking her fingers across the titles.

“Captain?”

Their heads turn toward the muffled call and the sound of rapidly encroaching footsteps in the passageway outside.  A hand knocks fervently on the door.

Hook finishes his last bite and brushes a stray crumb from the corner of his mouth.  “What is it, Smee?” he answers.

The knob turns, and Smee pops in.  “A ship, sir,” he reports.  “Packet, by the looks of it.”

Hook frowns. “Slavers?”

“Probably.”

“Slavers?”  Swan’s voice draws their attention.

Hook turns toward her, his countenance darkened.  “Aye. This close to the Foundering Islands, a ship like that is almost certainly carrying fresh prisoners of war to the slave markets east of here.”  He glances back at his first mate.  “Maintain course and speed, Smee.  I’ll come up shortly.”

Smee gives a hasty nod and scuttles away.

The door closes behind him, and a sigh passes Hook’s lips.  He rises and reaches for his sword belt.

Swan watches him put it on. “Are you going to engage them?”  

To her confusion, he shakes his head as he does up the buckle.  “Not likely.  Every choice to engage is a calculated risk, love.  We’re a man down now, and there isn’t much to be gained from attacking a ship like this.  Slavers can be a nasty lot, and we’re not in the business of capturing or selling slaves.” He reaches for his coat with a scowl. “It’s a disgusting practice.”

Her brow creases in thought. “What if… what if you took the ship but set the slaves free?”  She meets his confounded look with an earnest stare.  "You could help them."

Hook blinks, conflicting emotions writing themselves all over his face.  “Swan…”

“No, think about it.  You became a pirate to escape service to a ruthless king,” she argues, her voice growing bolder.  “Why should all those people stay condemned to life under a master if the Jolly can save them?”

He flexes his jaw with indignation.  “I’m not in the business of risking my crew in order to play hero.”

“What if the crew thought it was worth the risk?”  

Hook's countenance hardens, and he looks away, his gaze dropping to the floor as he turns to leave. He strides away without another word, and she watches the door shut behind him with sad eyes, frustration dragging her stomach down to the depths and leaving her unsure whether to appreciate or regret this acute reminder that, regardless of whatever misguided feelings she may harbor for the Captain, she may have put her faith in his good heart too soon.

 *             *             *

 His boots fall heavy on the deck as Hook stalks across the boards to join Smee at the wheel, his chest still aching from the disappointment on Emma’s face.  

“Steady at your ten o’clock, sir,” Smee informs him briskly, nodding toward the northwest horizon.  

Hook squints at the telltale rig configuration of the smaller vessel, his lips pressed into a grim line as he pulls out his spyglass and examines the ship more closely.

“I assume we’re leaving them alone?”

He licks his lips and stows his glass, his eyes landing upon the angry scratches that zigzag across the worn surface of the black sideboard next to the ship’s wheel.

It’s not too late to start over.  I can change, Bae.  For you.

You say that.  I know you’ll never change, because all you care about is yourself.

The last conversation he had with Baelfire in Neverland years ago leaps into his mind – the last time he hoped for a happy ending for himself and someone he cared for.  The last time that someone had looked on him with hope fading from their eyes.  

Hook stares intently at what remains of the ‘P’ and ‘S’ he once carved to orient the lad to the sides of the ship – letters obliterated in a fit of rage – and he swallows thickly. Regret slams down on him like a tidal wave as he remembers how he chose self-preservation over courage and anger over contrition, betraying Bae to the Lost Boys the moment he and the lad had had a falling out.  Coward.  His hand curls into a fist.  

He won’t lose his chance with Emma.  Not like this.

“Call all hands on deck,” he says quietly.

Smee turns.  “Sir?”

Hook fixes the other ship with a determined glare.  “All hands,” he repeats flatly.  “I need to address the crew.”

Though clearly perplexed by the demand, Smee knows better than to ask questions.  He closes his open mouth and hurries away, and five minutes later the men are assembled around the main-mast, murmuring amongst themselves at this unexpected summoning.

Hook stands above them on the stern deck, his hand resting on the rail near the ship’s bell.

“I’ve called you here,” he calls, “with an opportunity.”  His voice rings out across the Jolly, and every set of eyes is upon him. “To port lies what is most likely a ship belonging to slavers, men who put a price on flesh and trade other people as if they were chattel.  It’s been our custom to let slavers alone because I refuse to make a profit off of cargo that shouldn’t be cargo and because we don’t raise swords for anything other than profit or revenge.”

Sounds of agreement ripple through the crew.

“But I am proposing a change,” he continues.  “I claimed this ship and turned pirate to free myself from the service of a king who used loyal men like me as puppets.  He betrayed my trust, and my brother died because of his treachery. We,” he says, gritting his teeth, his eyes flitting over the faces of those assembled, “are men of honor.  We live by a code.  We go where we please and take what we like and answer to no one but each other.”  Cheers ring out, and he yanks his cutlass from the scabbard and swings it toward the other ship, his voice rising.  “And I say it is a foul thing for us to claim to value freedom but turn a blind eye to cruel men who make a living depriving others of it!” he bellows.  His heart rams against his ribs.  “I know there is risk and little profit to be had,” he admits, “but we are the most able crew to sail the seas, and for the sake of our decency and our self-respect as pirates, I say we take those bloody slavers down! Will you stand with me?”

Roars of approval fill his ears, fists jutting into the air in solidarity, and the voices of his men form an enthusiastic chorus as they chant, “Captain Hook!  Captain Hook!”

Hook hears movement and a gratified hum behind him and turns to see Emma standing nearby, her ponytail flapping over one shoulder like a victory banner on the breeze.  She leans against the sideboard, her face bright, her cheeks rosy, and her small smile brighter than the sun.  Hope fills him anew when she gives him a little nod, and he nods back.  Perhaps there’s something more valuable than gold or jewels or even revenge worth fighting for now, he thinks.

He allows her to remain on deck as they shift course to intercept the other ship, and Swan watches with sober fascination as they hoist the colors and fire the customary warning shot. As expected, the slavers refuse to surrender.

“Leave them alive, if you can,” Hook barks on the Jolly’s approach.  “I want to send a message.”  

He turns back to Emma. “I know how you feel about being asked to stay below, love,” he acknowledges gently, “but perhaps you’ll oblige me this time?”

He considers it a small miracle when she concedes without protest.  Emma turns toward the hatch to his quarters, pausing to lay her hand on his shoulder and gaze up at him with anxious eyes.  “Be careful?”

He gives her a soft smirk and risks reaching forward to cup her face, his thumb drifting softly across her skin.  “You try not to worry, and I'll try not to need a daring rescue today. Alright?”  His heart leaps at the way she blushes, a chuckle playing on her lips as she heads down below.

The crew of the slave ship numbers about fifteen, and though they put up a fight, this particular group proves no match for the men of the Jolly Roger, even with the latter utilizing non-deadly force.  Within twenty minutes, the slavers find themselves trounced, bound, and forced to huddle in the center of the main deck, their expressions a mixture of anger, resentment, and fear as they eye the pirates that form a tight circle around them.  

“Which one of you is in charge?” Hook demands, striding forward.  Glances dart toward a heavy-set scoundrel with a barrel chest and a bald head whose skin is bronzed and leathery from the sun.  Hook tips his chin at him.  “You.”

The man raises his dark, beady eyes.

“You know who I am?” He sees the slaver glance at his hook, and he smiles coldly.  “You do. Excellent.  So you know how lucky you and your men are to still be alive.” His face hints at a snarl.  “You are being given quarter this once in order to deliver a message to your fellows in the slave trade.”  Hook lifts his head and raises his voice.  “Personal freedom is not a commodity to be bought and sold, and as pirates, we can be indifferent no more,” he announces.  “You are no longer safe from our interference.  We will demand surrender from any slave ship we come across, and we will encourage our brethren to do the same.”  He draws his sword on them, his voice taking on a deadly timbre.  “You are relieved of this ship and everything and everyone aboard.  Get to your boats and go before I decide to stop being generous.”

Most of the slavers climb to their feet and shuffle off under the escort of his men, but their leader lags behind and glowers at Hook.  “So you steal property and yet suppose yourself the better man,” he sneers.

Hook launches forward, his blade slicing through the air and biting the flesh just below the other man’s jaw.  “People,” he hisses, rotating the sword edge with excruciating slowness until it just barely draws blood, “are not property. And I’m a better man now than when I allowed you to continue this bloody business unfettered.”  He hooks a large loop of keys off the man’s belt and plants a boot in his stomach, watching with grave satisfaction as the slaver wheels across the deck and crashes into the gunwhale with a tortured grunt.  The man crumbles to his knees, and Hook snorts. “Get him out of my sight.”

He finds his way below, and his stomach churns increasingly as he draws closer to the hold, the air growing uncomfortably warm and thick with the stench of unwashed bodies and human foulness.  He finds Martin and Roberts waiting for him at the hatch with revulsion in their eyes.

“Are there many?” he asks quietly.

Martin nods, his expression grim.  “Aye, Captain.  See for yourself.”  He steps aside, and the open hatch comes into view.  

The heat and smells are immediately magnified, hitting him in the face like a sordid cloud as Hook kneels and peers down into the dimly lit space, and it takes everything he has not to retch.  He looks away for a second, face clenched in a grimace, before steeling himself and turning back to examine the hold.  The terrified eyes of men, women, and even some older children stare back up at him. The light of a few hanging lanterns casts shadows across their faces, and he can see that they’re packed shoulder-to-shoulder like livestock, the close and distant clinking of their chains confirming for him that the entire hold is full with bodies.

His gaze locks onto a boy, aged perhaps eleven or twelve, with shaggy dark hair.  The lad’s pale, round face is smudged with tears and filth and set with wide, timid eyes, and something in Hook’s chest wrenches as his own time as slave to a series of hardened captains – six years of childhood that was several lifetimes ago – suddenly feels as though it’s not so far away.  Fury flares in his blood.  “Get them out,” he growls, managing to hide the quaver in his voice as he tosses Martin the ring of keys, “and see if any of them knows how to sail this vessel home.”

He hurries back above deck, pausing under the guise of visually inspecting the sails in order to catch a few deep lungfuls of the ocean air and allow his pulse to stop hammering.  His ears pick up the steady squeaking of pulleys as his men lower the boats full of slavers astern, and there’s a pair of splashes when they finally hit the water. Good riddance.  

Hook hustles to the aft rail to watch the slavers depart.  Pistols emerge, and a handful of his men train their weapons on the boats to keep the other crew in line as they go.  His eyes dart over to the Jolly and to the hatch leading to his quarters, and the thought of Emma holed up safely below while the slavers row in the opposite direction brings a relieved sigh to his lips as he looks to Thomas and Smee standing guard on the Jolly’s deck and gives them a grateful nod.  

The sound of dozens of footfalls causes him to turn around, and satisfaction curves his mouth at the sight of the first of the former slaves climbing up and out into the sunlight. Many cringe and duck behind their hands as they adjust to the brightness, but there is excited chatter amongst them, and though he can see plenty of arms and legs adorned with red marks, the irons that caused them have been abandoned below.

All told, over fifty people emerge from the hold, followed by Roberts and Martin, who appear as happy as any of them to be out of the bowels of the ship.  

Hook approaches. “That’s everyone?”

Martin swipes his sleeve over his damp brow, looking weary.  “Yessir.”

“Can they sail?”

He bobs his head. “Aye.  I counted a dozen of them who identified as seafarers.  They think they can manage.”

“Provisions?”  Hook turns to Roberts.

The quartermaster hums the affirmative.  “Stores’re fine.  They’ll do alright, I think.  They estimate their homeland’s less than a week from here.”  He scratches at the base of his neck.  “Shall we investigate the crew quarters, Captain?”

Hook smirks half-heartedly. “Of course, Old Man.  What kind of pirate do you take me for?”

It’s not a huge haul, and much of what they find by way of clothing and linens they leave for the former slaves, but they do locate a fairly generous purse in the main cabin and some useful supplies worth scavenging – weapons and ammunition, extra lantern oil and wicks intended for the slavers’ return trip from market, parchment and writing supplies, pipe tobacco, and a few bottles of quality spirits. The Captain hums with approval as he finishes counting the money with Roberts and seals the coins back into the satchel.

“Not a bad day’s work, eh, sir?” Roberts asks, accepting the purse for safe-keeping until it can be divided amongst the crew.

“No.”  Hook leads him back up the ladder, savoring the swirl of wind that greets him when they emerge on deck.  He takes in the scene before them.  Some of the former slaves inspect the rigging while explaining the structure of the ship to the less experienced sailors, others haul buckets of water from the sea in order to wash, and children weave in and out of the crowd like a school of fish as they chase each other across the deck.  Their youthful laughter fills the air, and Hook cranes his head to watch the lad he saw before scramble by with his mates, all traces of fear gone from his small face.  Where once the deck of this ship was dour, it’s now filled with life, with hope, and this, this is their doing.  Correction, he thinks.  This is Emma’s doing through them.  This is the work of an angel.  “No,” he says, his chest swelling with a peace he hasn’t known in a long time. “Not a bad day’s work at all.”

 *             *             *

 The taking of the slave ship is a much quieter affair than their run-in with the pirate hunters had been, and Swan has the benefit of company to distract her now as she waits below deck.  She knocks on the open door of the crew quarters and pokes her head in.  “Alec?”

Faced away from her in his berth, the young man cranes his neck, arching a bit off his pillow to meet her eye.  “Milady?”

She steps across the threshold, cradling a book in her arms.  “Mind if I wait here with you?” she asks, coming in to stand in front of a bench across from him.  “I could use a distraction.”

He smiles appreciatively and nods, gesturing for her to have a seat.  “Me too.”

She settles down, pulling her legs up under her in order to sit cross-legged.  “How do you feel?” she asks, studying him.  As Hook had ordered, the fabric of his trousers has been completely cut away to expose his leg, and a clean bandage is wrapped around his wound.

Alec makes a noncommittal noise.  “The pain’s not bad when I don’t stand.”  He looks up at her, his face guilty.  “I’m sorry if I frightened you earlier, ma’am.”

She shakes her head. “It’s alright.  I’m sorry I didn’t notice you weren’t feeling well today.”

“Nah.  S’nothing,” he says, attempting to sound cavalier.  He glances at her book.  “What’s that?”

Swan holds it up for him. “Legends of the Deep.  I’ve been working my way through the Captain’s collection.  Do you know it?”

Now it’s Alec who shakes his head.  “Never been very good at readin’, t’ be honest.”

“Perhaps I could read it aloud?”

He brightens.  “I’d be much obliged, ma’am.”

Swan grins and pulls the book open to the first page.  She clears her throat and wets her lips.  “It is said that the sea is an enchanting place, full of beauty and mysteries beyond the comprehension of mortal men…”

She’s a dozen pages in when the sound of Alec’s snoring causes her to look up.  A muted smile plays on her mouth, and she sighs, softly swinging the cover shut.  Her eyes fall to his leg, and worry wrinkles her forehead once more as she rises and slips out of the cabin, pulling the door softly closed behind her.  

Standing in the corridor, she glances briefly in the direction of the Captain’s quarters, gnawing at her lip before she decides to climb the ladder to the hatch instead, her heart pounding as she eases it open just a few inches so she can peek outside.

Her ears strain for clues as to what’s going on, and she grows excited several moments later when a familiar pair of boots passes a few feet from her nose.  “Thomas!  Thomas!” she hisses.

The boots turn to face her, and Thomas kneels, his amused expression coming into view as he cants his head sideways to meet her eye.  “Milady?”

Heat creeps up from her neck, and she suddenly feels a little silly.  “Is everything going alright?”

He chuckles.  “Very well, ma’am.  The slavers are being loaded into boats as we speak.  We’ll see that they leave without any trouble,” he assures her, patting the gun tucked into his belt.  “Cap’n’s gone below to see to the slaves, I think.”

Swan exhales, a relieved smile coming over her face.  “That’s good.”

“Aye.”  He nods with a grin.  “Sit tight, ma’am.  It might take ‘em a bit to get sorted, but I imagine we’ll have everyone back aboard soon enough.”

She beams and retreats, feeling much more content as she descends the ladder.  They’re safe.  He did it.  Pride in the Captain brings a private smile to her lips, and her heart flutters.  She gives a relieved huff.  Perhaps she wasn’t so far off in her read of him as she feared.  

She elects to continue reading in his quarters where the light is better, hunching over his table with the book open in front of her.  Within minutes, however, her own eyelids grow heavy and her head begins to loll with the weight of sleep.

 *             *             *

 “Swan?”  Hook eyes her still form and murmurs her name, wearing a soft expression as he moves around his table to stand beside her.  He pauses a moment to study the serenity on her face and the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders with each breath.  Her long lashes are dusky against her cheeks, her exquisite features blissfully free of emotion, and she rests on the table, her head cradled on one folded arm while the fingers of her other hand grace the cover of an open, overturned book.  A wavy lock of her hair lies haphazardly draped over her eyes, and she’s so achingly beautiful that his chest hurts.  

He has no clue what he’s done to deserve time with this woman, but he was guilty of understatement when he called her a gift to his crew.  Her presence has infused the Jolly with a new sense of life and excitement and given the men a fresh collective purpose in keeping her safe and delivering her home.  He’s watched them over the past several weeks – noticed them smiling more freely and singing more heartily.  He’s seen them beam proudly every time they make the Princess laugh.  He might be completely besotted, but it’s clear they’re all a little in love with her, and the prospect of leaving her behind in Misthaven makes him so melancholy that he’s wished more than once for an excuse to prolong their journey with an unplanned stop in port or a detour to a less direct course.  He feels a pang of guilt about it now that Alec’s condition actually makes a stop in a port to find a surgeon a real necessity.

A small voice inside tells him not to wake her, but it’s as though his hand has a mind of its own when he reaches forward and delicately brushes her hair out of her face.  The graze of his fingertips over her forehead causes Emma to stir.  She sucks in a deep breath and wrinkles her brow, and he pulls his hand away just before she opens her eyes and looks up at him.

Her face lights up, and she sits up hastily, looking a bit embarrassed to have fallen asleep. “You’re back.”

He relaxes and nods. “Aye.  Some of the men are still on the other ship conferring with the people about how they plan to sail her home, but I wanted to come check on you.”

Emma eyes him proudly. “You did it then.  You set them free.”

His cheeks warm. “Yes, well, someone convinced me it was the right thing to do,” he reminds her, glancing at the toes of his boots with an uncharacteristically humble grin.

“And here they say Captain Hook doesn’t care about anyone but himself,” she teases.

He looks back up at her, considering her statement with a pained smile.  “Maybe I just needed reminding that I could,” he says at last.

The admission hangs between them for a moment, and his heart somehow feels both heavier and lighter for having made it.  Emma’s expression sobers as she studies the emotions flitting across his face with that soul-searching stare of hers, and, though he can’t identify all of the feelings jumbled up inside him, he realizes that, for the first time, he’s not as afraid of what she might see.

Thanks for reading!  Ready for the next chapter?  Click here!

[pokemonruby]

Character Profile: Leo Pendragon

heyo! it’s been awhile since i’ve discussed anything about my novel but, i recently read @punkrockclassic‘s profile of her characters so i decided heck, i wanna try this too! i apologize if this gets... extremely lengthy. 

(Artwork by my wonderful boyfriend @faeriemagics!)

Name: Leonardo (Leo) Pendragon Why did I pick this name?: Well, mostly because of the symbolism! Leo, of course, means “lion”, and considering his courageous nature it suits him a lot! As for his surname, “Pendragon” belongs to King Arthur from Arthurian Legend! We all know him as a valiant hero, after all. It’s quite the suitable designation for a fantasy novel’s protagonist.  Book and role: “Lost Paradise”, and he’s the main protagonist! 

Job: Leo is an explorer who belongs to one of the kingdom’s largest guilds, known as the “Ravenglades”! He’s to report discoveries directly to their chiefwoman, Anastasia, and was even asked by her to research into the whereabouts of the sacred land, “Paradise”. Needless to say, Leo’s goal (at the start of the novel) is to both carry out that particular assignment and keep the promise he made with his presumably deceased friend, Prince Matthew--to make the world a better place.  Age: 20 is Leo’s default age! However, he ages as the storyline progresses; by the climax, he is around 24!  Personality type: ENFP, the Inspirer.  Character history: When I first began production on Lost Paradise around the time I graduated from middle school, needless to say, Leo was nothing like he is today. In fact, the original version of Leo was timid and suffered from self-esteem issues. He’d prefer the company of his homestead rather than a life of adventure, incomparable to the dauntless protagonist we acknowledge nowadays. 

Leo was originally the overrated “chosen one” troupe, as well....Keep in mind I was fourteen and this was supposed to be a way to pass time; however, once I recongized that i could actually transform LP into a real book....I became more serious with how I wanted to present his character. I think I did a good job at improving him, too! It’s difficult for me to write another protagonist as lovable as he is, which is why I haven’t made much progress with my other works. (Except for Monochrome--I absolutely adore Agnes’s character. I’ll have to talk about her in another profile).  Personality description: I don’t want to say Leo is your stereotypical “adventurous” protagonist.... Behind his seemingly “cheerful” outlook on life, he’s a rather complex character with an infinite amount of relatable traits. That’s why I adore his personality so much, because he feels like an actual, breathing person. Let’s go into a bit of detail! 

On the outside, Leo is described as venturesome--someone who would willingly plunge into otherwise dangerous locations for the mere thrill, a suitable personality for an explorer like himself. He is kind-hearted and tremendously loyal to his comrades, especially Alexander. Leo would risk everything to protect the people he loves, even if his own life were on the line--he always, always puts others’ welfare before his own. It may seem like a heroic trait to possess....However, it’s also Leo’s downfall; because of his inability to worry about himself, he pushes himself to the limit constantly. Whether studying, exploring, fighting for his friends--etc, Leo could become a bloodied mess and concern moreso about the mere scratch on someone else’s finger. This introduces the reader to the self-hatred he desperately tries to keep hidden away. Leo Pendragon, while adorned with such a sunny smile.... is merely a mas. In actuality, this is an individual that is overrun with endless stress; forced to prove himself, or else he’s....nothing. Leo’s biggest phobia is of his own uselessness, which comes into play once he acknowledges how gifted everyone else within the cast is except for him. The self-proclaimed “hero” without a strength of his own. 

Leo is also prone to reckless behavior, especially if it involved the people he cares about. Without first thinking about the consequences, he would throw himself onto the battlefield to defend another. He’ll pull miraculous stunts to assure that everyone else is safe and sound.... but wouldn’t bat an eye at his own injuries. He, however, always responds to that with a smile--”At least nobody got hurt, right?” while hiding the festering cut on his abdomen. A short temper isn’t out of question, either. If someone were to insult say....Alexander, for example, it wouldn’t end well--Leo has picked fights with much larger, stronger men more times than he can count. Merely because they insulted someone close to him. All in all, Leo is relatable; like I said, he feels like a real person. He has limitless flaws, but also qualities: Cheerfulness, intelligence, a golden heart, etc. He’s your trademark hero with an actual backstory to fuel his determination. He’s a hardworker, needless to say. Someone who doesn’t understand the meaning behind the phrase “give up”--never surrendering to fate, no matter the odds. 

(Artwork by @killrot! Leo is the one on the right, while Alexander is the other!) FUN RANDOM STUFF Hogwarts house: Gryffindor  Theme song: "Adventure of a Lifetime” by Coldplay. 

Cinnamon roll status: Looks like a cinnamon roll, and IS a cinnamon roll. Alignment: Chaotic Good  Best and worst subjects at school: Well, Leo never went to school.... After all, he was an orphan until his tenth year. After that, he was “tutored” by Alexander and Matthew respectively; however, he quickly became invested in history and studied it himself. History is his overall best subject for obvious reasons, but he excels in all of the core ones. I’d say one that he is lacking in slightly is Chemistry, though.  Dream job?: He’s already accomplished his dream job.... an Explorer! 

Cat or dog person?: Dog!  Clothing style: Leo prefers comfortable wear, such as button-ups (that are lazily tucked into his trousers--which are usually dusty because... well, exploration), an oversized trenchcoat, etc. He loves accessories, though. Hence the bandana he always wears around his forehead; however, it also holds significant value to him....being the first present Alexander had ever given him. In a Modern AU, Leo would be a flannel with a graphic shirt underneath kind of guy--and a lot of piercings.  Coffee or tea?:  Tea! 

Aesthetic?: An outdoorsy / historical type of aesthetic! Ancient ruins, vast grasslands, scattered maps upon a table, aged books, sunflowers--etc! It describes his overall character very well, considering how he’s an explorer and all. 

Something everybody likes that they hate?: Authority, probably. Leo is the type of person to completely ignore the rules & do whatever his heart tells him.

Something everybody hates that they love?: Being outside--which I can say a lot of people detest the idea of. Also, going into abandoned and otherwise dangerous locations for the mere thrill.  Sexuality?: He is the biggest bisexual you’ll ever meet.  Favourite time of year or day?: Summer! And dawn, probably.  Insecurities: Lord, where do I begin. Leo.... profoundly believes that he’s “useless”, unable to truly support other people. That he has to constantly prove himself, otherwise he’ll be considered a “failure”. As I mentioned before, this is his greatest phobia--to seem insignificant in the perspective of those he loves. Behind Leo’s commonplace smile is stress--stress because of everything he’s ever done, merely by existing.  Birthday: June 21st Zodiac: Cancer Spirit animal: Probably a wild dog of some kind! Maybe coyote?  Favourite hobby?: Studying ancient texts, reading, exploring, cooking, sparring with Alexander and et cetera.  How was their childhood?: Leo was abandoned by his parents at a young age, forced to survive on the Capital’s streets with only thievery to keep him alive. Time and time again, he was beaten by the local shopkeepers for taking an ounce of bread--bread easily replacable, but none would turn a blind eye to a malnourished child. Eventually, around his tenth birthday, he met Alexander Frost on a rainy afternoon....he was the first to take Leo’s hand within this miserable existence of his. Alexander, otherwise known as a noble belonging to the “Frost” household of distinguished knights--knights who serve directly beneath the Emperor, no less, would sneak Leo into his mansion and care for him. Their bond developed more and more with each moment they spent with each other....and Leo was introduced to “friendship”, a luxury he’s never indulged in before. Eventually, he met Matthew upon a trip to the palace--unaware to formalities, he became fast friends with the second heir. However.... this seemingly “peaceful” era within Leo’s life would extinguish soon enough, with the Emperor’s assassination and Matthew’s thereafter disappearance--presumed dead. Even so, Leo never regretted anything; he truly believes his childhood was worth it, despite the misfortune. After all, he was able to meet his future lover in unexpected events.  Relationship with his parents?: Leo never knew his birth parents--as mentioned above, he was abandoned by them for unknown reasons. Later, it’s revealed they were merely trying to save him from an otherwise inescapable disaster....However, lost their own lives in the process. There is another character who Leo respects as a fatherly figure, however: Judah, another member of the Ravenglades and their second-in-command. Anastasia has always acted akin to a mother/elder sister for him as well. Needless to say, Leo doesn’t mind the mystery surrounding his origins....After all, he still has family, whether they’re blood related or not..  TV show he would like?: Discovery channel is Leo’s ideal way to spend Saturday night.... that and Animal Planet as well. He’d be every intrigued by nature documentaries. In this hypothetical modern AU, HXH would be his favorite anime....For obvious reasons. Also DBZ. 

Social media?: Leo would probably be popular on instagram! He’d take photography of beautiful landscapes and abandoned locatons. Also, he is the master of selfies. Beware your feed.  Quotes: Will update later! I don’t have any off the top of my head at this moment.

[chberglund]

Tell you a secret

Tell you a secret, I was there.

I was the one exploring the forms of nature, creating the lines on the cave wall, painting the scenes on the stone.

I’ve carved in every material, molded al the clay and shaped those details that drew your eye to my work.

To tell you how I made the temples to God’s and rulers would take more time than you have, for how could I ever explain the struggles of life that led to me raising the sphinx from blocks of stone or adding color to a surface tricking you to believing whatever you saw was real.

The Seven Wonders of the World was created by me but I did so much more.

Once…

I was called Masaccio I painted The Trinity in 1425, a fresco that people say is the first fully developed adaptation of linear perspective. I set the vanishing point at 5feet nine inches off the floor, the height of the ideal male Florantine Viewer. (Chadwick s.72)

In the 14th century I was known as Marietta Robuti the eldest daughter to Jacopo Robusti who was better known as the painter Tintoretto. As a youth I worked in his workshop where I became famous as a portrait painter. I was invited to the court of Spain and Austria but Father didn’t like it and found me a husband instead of letting me leave, he even put the condition in my marriage contract that I was not to leave his household during his lifetime. Well his lifetime was longer than mine, I died four years after I got marriage at the age of 30 during childbirth. (Chadwick  s.17-18).

I assume you’ve seen the work I finished under the name of Leonardo da Vinci, and I do say finish because I could only finish a few of my works a lot of my work went unfinished like my first major painting “Adoration of the Magi” that I started on in 1481. None of the buildings I designed was ever built nor was any of my thousands of pages worth of illustrated notes on artistic theory, human anatomy, natural history and my numerous mechanical contrivances ever published. (Honour & Fleming, 2009. S.466-467).

Later I became known as Sofonisba Anguissola. My father at the time raised me and my six siblings according to the humanist ideal of the renaissance in the belief that we would bring honor to our city. His way of thinking let three of my sisters and myself become painters. My father’s ambitions for me were expressed in two letter to Michelangelo. In the first letter he asked Michelangelo to send me a drawing of his so that I could color it with oil and return it finished in my own hand. And so I did, he asked me to paint “Boy crying” and so I painted my brother crying.

The duke of Alba was the one who called the Spanish Court’s attention to my work. I was escorted to Spain with great ceremony in 1559 and there I remained for a time serving as both Court painter and Lady-In-Waiting to Queen Isabel of Valois and later Anne of Austria until I left in 1573. As a lady-In-Waiting I was given a salary and later a lifelong pension, payable to my father of course. Because my social status prohibited me from selling my work it was given as gifts in elite social circles and thus I became the first female painter to achieve fame and respect within the constraints that removed me from competing for commissions with my male contemporary. (Chadwick S.78-79, 82-83)

People has sometimes gotten confused over the work I did in the 15th century. The confused my work as Artemisa Gentileschi with that of my father’s Orazio Gentileschi. While it is true he was the owner of some of my works he could never really create the same expression in his paintings as I did. I didn’t hide the woman’s feelings and struggles in my paintings of popular biblical subjects like “Susanna and the elders” or “Judith Decapitating Holofernes” for the scenes were bloody and gorse, I might even have made the paintings to emotional and violet for some peoples taste. My father asked his friend the artist Agostino Tassi to teach me perspective and so he did. He also wanted me to be his lover, asking me time and time again to marry him, my answer was always no. Inevitably the situation became complicated and I told my father and he believed my and even if Agostino was a powerful man and dangerous enemy father didn’t hesitate to take him to court. Even if Agostino denied everything I kept to the truth and he was eventually convicted. When I in 1630 arrived in Naples I was a celebrity living magnificently and enjoying the patronage and protection of the nobility. This was where my style transitioned to a more refined style and I made my self-portrait there, “Allegory of Painting”. (Chadwick S.100, 107-108. Timbuktu 2016, s.20).

I wasn’t always a painter in late 1700 I was a writer as well. I was one of eight children and my name was Jane Austin. I wrote stories and published them without my name to begin with and later when I became famous I published them under my name instead of “Written by a lady” that it always said before. People expected me to marry but I always said no except for one time when I said yes, I regretted it and the next day I told the man that no I didn’t want to marry him. What a lot of people find interesting in my books I think is my humor and my attention to details. To this day you can still read my works and my letters. (Timbuktu 2016, s.76.  Föreläsning 17/10, Literaturhuset, Jane Austin)

In 1822 I was born as Rosa Bonneur, My mother taught me to read, draw and play the piano before she died when I was seven, after that was it up to my father, a minor artist, to train me. I was an anomaly among women artists of my day. Gaining a critical and financial success by 1853 I was seen as radical in my personal life but not in my paintings where I had a more conservative style, I tended to have a more realistic take on my art and was soon eclipsed by the more radical pictorial style of French modernism. (Chadwick s.193)

I became Tamara De Lempicka in 1898 and one day an artist was invited to paint my portrait. I was 14 at the time and I didn’t like his work and decided that I could do better myself. A couple of years later I met and married Tadeusz, we met at the opera and I saw him in the audience and decided then and there that he was the one I was going to marry. When the revolution broke out in Russia Tadeusz was imprisoned but I managed to get him out and we fled to Paris where I managed to fufill my childhood dream of becoming an artist, famous people stood in line to get their portraits painted by me. When the Second World War broke out I left for America where my artwork wasn’t as appreciated and when one of my exhibits got a bad revue I decided never to exhibit again. I moved to Mexico after that and as many artists my true fame came after I died in 1980, turns out that one of my greatest admirers is Madonna. (Timbuku 2016. S.182).

…these are just a few of my names, the more famous of my identities I’ve held.

For I was never a single being, nor was I anything more than human. I am you and you are me, I am the creativity and inspiration that the world can’t see. I am the artist that will always be.