#but you know what? after the Tragedy we experienced earlier this week i think we deserve this

[patrickztump]

patrick stump appreciation post ✧ 23/∞ [✘]

[anonymous101380]

entry four: 05/08/2024

I met this guy - we happened to be in New York at the same time - and I had the most magical kiss I’ve ever had.

Picture this - I’m backstage at some show, the only person I know is my best friend. We’re somewhere in the middle of Nevada. Paul, the one person my best friend did know (the whole reason we were there) ditched us with his entire crew. And I mean left us - he introduced us, and by the time we had gotten through everyone’s names - he was gone. Vanished into thin air. The first time I saw Andrew, was when Paul had walked us over to his crew. There Andrew was lifting weights, looking the absolute douchiest he could (his words not mine). We locked eyes, and he about dropped the weights. I blushed and found a seat next to my friend, straight across from him. You know the fun flirty looks that people do when they're trying to look at the other person without being caught - yeah that was us. Yet we caught each other every time, and we loved it. He’d smile, I’d blush and try and glance up at him through my hair. The others conversation soon drowned out, and it was him and I smiling at each other. We hadn’t even officially said hi yet. 

After the show, my friend and I were still hanging around and Andrew and I finally got to talk to each other. After we each said hi, and reintroduced ourselves to each other - the first question that left his lips was such a dark humor question. Something that if anyone else had heard - they’d think we’re insane. It was the best opening conversation starter I've ever experienced. We had our arms resting by each other - our fingers would brush, neither of us wanting to make the first move. The not so subtle glances down to each other’s lips. It felt so fun. He had even given me a guitar pic that I still have to this day, taped to my mirror.

We then had to go our separate ways, but not even two weeks later - we truly happened to be in New York at the same time. It felt like fate. I reached out, asking if he wanted to grab coffee if he had time - and he said yes. I got to the coffee shop an hour earlier than we were supposed to meet because I was so nervous. I had only been on two dates prior to this. When he came in, in the most ridiculous shirt ever and his nicest black jeans he owned. He had told me previously he was a light packer (I guess you have to be when you are always traveling). These were the one of three pairs of the same black jeans that he had brought with him, that didn’t have a huge rip in the thigh. I giggled at that, I thought it was cute that he had put on his “nicest” pants for me, but such an amusing shirt. Our hands were by each other on the table, and once again our fingers brushing - but this time he did make the first move. He intertwined our hands, and I couldn't help but blush. My cheeks were pink, and he couldn’t help but to comment “you’re really cute when you blush, I’m gonna make it my goal to never stop making you blush” - and he stuck to it. We sat and talked in the coffee shop for hours until the place was closing. Neither of us wanting to go our separate ways quite yet, not knowing when the next time we’ll see each other will be. We had started our journey down the street, trying to find some park where we could still be in each other’s company. Suddenly he stopped, we were on the corner of some street - right in front of a small flower shop. Just as we were about to kiss, our lips not even touching yet - we felt snow. The first fall of snow in New York. We both looked up. Not saying a word, just staring up at the sky for a minute. Until we both looked at each other, smiled, and met in the middle. Our lips touched. Our first kiss, standing in what felt like a snow globe. I’ve always hated the snow - the tragedies that come with it like scraping your car off, shoveling the driveway, losing power. But for once, I couldn’t be happier that it was snowing. With my hands on his pink cheeks, and his hands on the small of my back. Giggling to ourselves, I had made some comment about our hair being soaking wet, and needing to get inside somewhere. He quickly agreed but leaned back into me. So there we were, kissing in the middle of New York, while it was snowing - making it the most magical kiss I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. 

Andrew and I haven’t seen each other since then. It’s been just over two years. He had gotten a girlfriend, I had gone on a few more dates with other people - we haven’t spoken. But not a day goes by where I don’t think about how the universe aligned us, how we couldn’t stop talking for hours - the conversation never ending. There was just something about us. 

-anonymous101380

ALL NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED FOR PRIVACY.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

collab masterlist

✧ pairing: villain!hawks x afab!reader

✧ word count: 5k

✧ warnings: this is like all smut, angst, ambiguous but happy ending, unhealthy relationships, mentions of transactional sex, reader has a healing quirk but it's really just for poetic purposes, reader has a vagina, no other gendered parts, oral sex (reader receiving), vague metaphorical drug reference, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mating press, soft sex (?), sorta, slight potential could be read as dubcon but they're both into it

✧ summary: for years you've stitched hawks back together when the world has torn him to shreds—and he always pays you back, though you can't help but start want more than he can give you.

✧ a/n: hey y'all this months theme was villain/hero swap with a shared opener! please go check out all the other wonderful works in this collab, there are so many talented writers/artists involved!! credit to @/lady-bakuhoe for the amazing intro. also bonus points if you catch the old aesthetic tumblr post references.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

***

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

That fact is made even more horrifically apparent as he stumbles through your open window—and how long has it been since you’ve slept with it closed?—dripping with blood and panting from his flight.

The T.V. blares in the background, filling your tiny apartment with incessant ramblings that only grow louder by the day, and you already know what they’re going to say before they say it. Because you see him, before the reporters stumble upon heroes in the wreckage—you see what they do to him before they’re warning the public of dangerous villains loose in the streets.

They spout off about failing heroes but you think they’ve done a pretty damn good butchers job. Red feathers matted together, sticky and brown, fall in tufts from his back. You burn with shameful jealousy at the thought of those who would call themselves heroes having laid hands on what is yours.

He isn’t really yours and you know that, though you often wish you could be a bit more delusional. It might not hurt so much then.

They call him a villain. They call him a threat to society.

But even faced with the truth spilling from him and onto your creaking floors, it is easy to forget what a ruthless predator the man before you becomes when he leaves these four walls.

Especially as he falls forward on heavy feet straight into your arms, outstretched and waiting. There are stains on your shirt but you’ve known the secret for getting blood out of clothing for years now. Cold water for the fabric, warm to wash away the grime on his lovely skin.

“Gonna need you to fix me up again, sweetheart,” Hawks mumbles into your shoulder where his forehead rests.

His breathing is even more ragged now, not just from the flight.

“I know,” you reply and your hands shake when they find the gaping wound at his side—wide and deeper than the ones before. “I know. Can you walk?”

He doesn’t respond but that mop of golden hair shifts a bit as he slings an arm over your shoulder and rests his weight. You don’t need to direct him to your bedroom. This is an old game you’re playing and he knows the steps.

So do you.

Though, you’re never sure if it's dread that fills you and makes your stomach knot and your knees weak. Or if it’s that awful, momentary rush of excitement at the prospect of being able to run your fingers over him, bare and giving you free reign.

As long as he’s bleeding out on your floor.

Then you can feel him.

When he’s dying and needs you.

Needs you to fix him.

But won’t ever let you close enough to finish the job the way you want to.

You comfort yourself in with the knowledge that at least he lets you this close. At least those thin, silver-skin scars are the unmistakable mark of your healing hands. At least you’ll always haunt him like the red feather down that sticks to your pillows or between your floorboards.

So you strip him carefully and try not to let his sculpted chest distract you from the work. Hawks is silent, such a model patient as always. Only grunting when your fingers move to knit together the ragged edges of his flesh.

This will leave a nasty mark, you know it already. But you can’t find it in yourself to mourn the loss of that lovely skin.

It will only make it harder for him to forget you.

You’re knelt beside him, laid out on a towel you keep at the edge of the bed. Blood will soak through to the sheets regardless, but you try your best. He takes a sharp breath, white teeth catching the back of his hand between them to stifle groans.

You wish there was more pleasure to it. That he was biting back moans for you instead of trying not to scream as his flesh pulsed and grew hot while it was rebuilt under your fingertips. So you indulge, pretend your hands are elsewhere, roaming his perfect waistline and pulling whimpers from him.

Your dangerous, villainous, predator Hawks sprawled on his back, wings spread and cumming onto his chest under you.

The sounds above you change, and you know it hurts—must be excruciating as bone is set back into place—but you chose to believe it’s because he’s trying to keep himself from screaming your name as he reaches his release.

Hawks, you’d croon to him—Hawks because you don’t know his real name. Don’t know who he was before he started this underground life of crime on the fringes of a society that called him a monster and then turned him into one.

He isn’t a monster in your bed, though he may cry like one.

Cry as you mold his flesh and try not to look him in the face. Try to pretend they are an overflow of some better emotion. And when those summer wheat field eyes roll back in his head and those horrible pretty noises stop, you push past the growing ache in your limbs until the skin under your palms is smooth and no longer leaking thick, red blood.

And you do your best to resist the itch to feel more of him while he can’t stop you. Even with your fingers numb from overexertion, you can’t help but fall back on your heels and long for the feeling of his cheek in your hand, or his chest on your face.

But your part of the transaction is done.

And your permission doesn’t extend past these limits.

And it pains you to wish harm on him.

But it hurts even more when he does not need you.

So you sit and hate yourself and hope that those heroes with their disgusting philosophies get their shit together just a bit more. So you won’t lose your purpose. So he’ll keep coming through your window, permanently open through rainstorms and snow and spring heat.

Hawks’ breath evens slowly, and you stay still as a watched painting—no shifting eyes or moving limbs.

You crave these times like water or warm food—constant and instinctively.

And this is the only time you’ll ever have them, hands so filled with pinpricks of fried nerves that you can barely feel the soft, relaxed muscle beneath them.

What a tragedy.

What an injustice—

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

***

“Hmm,” he groans, sitting up and wincing as the new flesh protests under his movements.

“You should rest for a bit longer.”

Hawks looks at you, stretched next to him on the mattress—a purposeful few inches of space left between your bodies. It’s both selfish and practical advice.

But he isn’t here for that kind of help.

“You know I can’t just be sittin’ on my ass,” he quips, flashing you that eyes closed, wide smirk that sets your heart hammering in your chest. “Can’t have anyone tracing me back here.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you don’t find it in yourself to give the words any bite, “but you were just actively bleeding out a few minutes ago.”

“Sure, but that was a few minutes ago,” he winks and you can already feel the bed shifting as he moves to settle himself over your hips, one toned thigh on either side to bracket you against the bed. “Now, let me pay you back for all that hard work, yeah sweetheart?”

You wish the way he peered up through those long lashes, gold eyes honed in on you like a piece of meat on a hook, didn’t make your face burn this much.

It doesn’t mean anything to him.

Because this arrangement really is transactional—so you have to get something out of it too. At least, that’s what he tells himself, you think. He doesn’t know that those scant few moments you hold his life between your fingers is more than enough payment.

It’s been this way since the very first time you stumbled across him, half dead in an alley. But then you think it might have just been a ‘heat of the moment’ sort of thing that had just stuck.

You heal him and he makes you writhe on the sheets with his tongue and his hands, until you're fucked into unconscious bliss and he can slip away without your prying eyes watching him go.

But you still aren’t allowed to touch Hawks, even when he reaches into those deep parts of you and molds them to fit only him.

“You don’t—” you start to protest, partly because you want to believe you don’t want it and partly because you want to hear him insist that he does.

“Shh,” Hawks presses a calloused finger to your mouth and it takes every ounce of strength not to suck it past your lips. “I don’t like leaving my debts unpaid.”

That’s the end of your determination for the night. So you try to relax into his touch as slides your bottoms off and tosses them to the floor. Try not to clench up under those fingers that spread your legs. He doesn’t like it when you squirm away, when you flinch from his hands.

You want to think it’s because he hopes you aren’t afraid of him—of what he is—like the rest are, and not because he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You want to.

But he’s so hard to read, and your mind is not often a kind place.

“Mm, god I’m always so hungry after you patch me up baby,” Hawks licks his lips as he stares down at you. “You won’t mind if I eat you right?”

You cringe at how fast your head shakes.

“Mm, course you wouldn’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s right though you resent it a bit that he’s got you pegged so easily.

But you’re weak, you’re no villain, you’re no hero.

And so you’ll never be able to resist him. But, damn, did you wish you had a name to cry out. Then at the very least, you could keep a part of him with you too. Then you’d have some to moan on the nights he goes uninjured and you have to bring yourself to lonely release, only thinking of him.

Of those wings spread above you like a burning, red sunset, obscuring the rest of the world from view with his blinding light.

“Hawks…” you hiss instead as he shifts your legs over his shoulders and lays his tender chest on the sheets. “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s it gonna be tonight then?” he asks, breath ghosting over the damp folds between your thighs.

“Thought you said you were gonna use your tongue,” you whine, impatient now for any scrap of attention he’s willing to give.

“If that’s what you want,” he presses a kiss into the crease of your leg and hip, nipping the delicate skin so you whine again. “It’s whatever you want, you know that.”

It isn’t though.

It’s not whatever you want.

You can pick the position, you can ask for his mouth or his fingers, but even then, they won’t go past your neck. Your hands must stay firmly knotted in the comforter and away from him while he works. Cause he is working. This is part of the job to him, it's only in your fantasies that he’s doing it simply for the hell of it.

Hawks nudges your embarrassingly soaked slit with his nose and hums at you, “So is that what you want? Want me to eat your pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes—ngh,” you don’t get much in past the confirmation.

He’s a busy man.

He doesn’t have time for your stupid, romantic day dreams.

So he dives right in, and it’s enthusiastic enough that you can convince yourself he simply wants you that badly.

Hawks tongue licks a long strip from your hole to your clit and sucks the little bud past his plush lips. They’re a lovely, soft pink against your skin and they make a mess of you in seconds. He starts up an even rhythm, drawing circles into the nerves that sing and have heat building up in you only seconds after he’s started.

You hate that you love how well he knows your body.

You hate that you only know his when it’s shutting down.

“You taste so good, you know that?” he mumbles, lapping at you and kneading your thighs. “Could live down here just drinking you every fucking day.”

He doesn’t always talk like that but you’re happy he is now. It distracts you from the deep, ingrained urge to yank him by the hair and taste yourself on his lips.

“Makes me wish I’d let those damn heroes get hits in more often,” he’s back to panting and you keen at the sound. “Want my fingers too?”

“Fuck yes,” you don’t even bother hiding the desperation anymore.

He deserves the boost to his ego. You’d shower him with praise if he’d let you, bathe him in warm words and press them into his skin with your tongue.

But he doesn’t let you.

Hawks’ hand on your thigh trails slowly against the sensitive skin until he’s pulling back to run his fingers through your folds to ease the stretch a bit as he pushes two inside. He knows you can take what he gives to you, knows you love the way he fills you up.

Your tingling hands ache to grab his head and force his lips back as he sits for a moment, eyes glued on the space where his fingers disappear into your body. He groans low at the wet sounds your bodies make at their joining. Your legs shake where they rest on him, the one other point of contact he’s allowed. Those deadly soft feathers brush your calves as he curls his fingers up and waits expectantly for the strangled cry he pulls from you.

“There it is,” his voice is so much lower when he speaks now. “Can’t exactly show you the real ones, but how ‘bout you let me make you see some stars, huh?”

He asks so much of you. So much. So often.

In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever actively asked him for a thing he hadn’t already offered in the few years you’d known him. Hawks does it all—the taking and the giving and the demanding.

And you’re simply along for the ride, holding on for dear life lest he drop you, let you plummet like rock to the barren ground.

Still, you are mortal and you crave and you will take what you can get.

“Mhm,” you whimper when his deft fingers increase their pace, not thrusting but grinding mercilessly into that delicious spot inside.

“You wanna cum now, sweet thing?”

Then, true to his villainous nature, Hawks latches his lips back onto your clit, wracking your body with waves of truly sinful pleasure. His tongue draws quick, perfect circles across the bud just how you like. You’ll never know why it feels so much better when it’s him touching you.

How he knows exactly what you want.

Most of it.

Then his other hand is reaching around your hip, thumb taking over to press down where his tongue had been. Panting for the third time, his gorgeous head rests on your thigh and he stares dead on into your eyes. That predator yellow gaze pins you to the pillows better than any hand could and he licks across his lips while you watch, moaning as he tastes you there.

You groan deep and unabashedly at the sight.

“What is it?” he’s teasing you, unable to keep that part of his cruelty hidden even now. “What do you want?”

You shake your head and wish you could turn away, flop against the mattress and writhe but you can’t. You just can’t give up this moment that’s etching itself into your retinas—like you’re staring head on at an eclipse, celestial and short-lived.

“Tell me,” Hawks whispers, nipping at your thigh and working his fingers harder on you. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”

And maybe it’s the sudden heat of the room, or the little breeze from his wings spreading defensively to block you from view of his nonexistent audience—the outside world maybe? To keep you, this secret indulgence, hidden from their prying hands. Or quite possibly it’s just your own weakness at the feet of years and years of loving—because you do, you love him, it’s clear by now that’s what this is—this man whose name you don’t know and whose eyes never seem to leave you even when he’s gone.

Maybe you simply crack under the pressure of keeping this awful, looming silence for too long.

You feel your lips split at the seams and it all comes rushing out in a polluted flood—a stagnant river of secrets.

“Let me touch you,” you gasp and close your eyes then just so you won’t have to see that grin slip from his beautiful face. “Please Hawks, let me touch you. I can’t do it anymore, just—I need to kiss you, I need more.”

All this time he hadn’t let up on pulling pleasure from your skin, but he stops now, bringing your release to a screaming halt.

The quiet that follows—devoid of fast breaths and wet slapping—is suffocating.

You wish you regretted the outburst, the waste of years worth of work to keep him coming back.

But you don’t.

Of course you will in a minute, when he slips away and doesn’t return.

But now it just feels as though that boulder of secrecy has been lifted off your chest and you can finally take in lungfuls of sweet, unhindered night air.

It’s only after that dreadful minute has passed and there are still hands on you—buried in you—that you dare to open your eyes again.

Hawks is staring blankly, an expression you’ve never seen before, so stark from the usual quirk of his lips and tilt of his chin. Blank, but calculating. You can see the gears clanking as his thoughts rush a mile a minute, faster than he’d ever dream of soaring over the city skyline.

He blinks once, twice, then again and you can see the redness blooming at the corners as his eyes grow glassy between each flutter of lashes. And then, as though moving through honey, he draws back from you, only to crawl up your body until your noses touch.

You hold your breath, lip caught between your teeth, but his slicked thumb comes up to pull it out of your gnawing reach. He strokes across the puffy skin, never meeting your gaze, until he slowly, slowly leans down.

It’s not really a kiss, more of an accidental brush, so little of your lips touch you could easily have imagined it. When he speaks again, you can feel him forming the words against you.

“I—” he starts and licks his lips and yours and you don’t think it’s an accident, “I can’t.”

It isn’t what you want him to say, but it’s better than a silent loss .

You know truth when you hear it.

“I know.”

And you do, you do know, you’ve always known. He’s darker when he’s not with you. You’ve seen the carnage he leaves behind broadcasted on screens, but it’s never stopped the ache before.

He can’t keep you the way you want, can’t have things that get in the way.

You can only touch him when he’s dying. You can heal him, reform his flesh and bone—pull him back from the brink—but you’ll never feel his chest against yours or his hair slipping through your fingers or have all of him buried inside you. He’ll never love you like you want him to.

It doesn’t stop you from wishing.

And apparently, it doesn’t stop Hawks from kissing you anyway.

“I can’t,” he repeats and it sounds so broken you almost think that wound has reopened and he’s going to start slipping away again.

But the only thing that slips is his tongue past your lips and tangling with your own.

And then the levee breaks.

It’s a sudden torrent of hands and legs knotting together like the torn edges of too many injuries. Hawks covers every available part of you like an addict seeking his fix. It’s breathless and uncoordinated but you’ve never felt more alive, alight, aflame.

He presses his lips to yours again, pulling away and then diving back in. Frantic hands pull you off the mattress until your back is against the headboard and he’s straddling your lap. You take the opportunity to sink your fingers into that goldenrod hair and it’s just as silky as you’d imagined it to be.

Hawks moans into your mouth, kissing you wildly, like the beast he is with teeth clacking and your tongue sucked between his lips.

“I can’t,” he keeps mumbling, between groans and hips grinding and hands grabbing, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t— “

You wonder then which one of you he’s trying to convince.

But you don’t ask, just let your hands wander to the delicious curve of his ass on your thighs and squeeze, rolling his bulge against you. His fingers push and proud, ghosting across your chest and stopping to pinch your nipple. He drinks down the whimpers you let out, letting his lips wander your jaw and throat, sucking bruises—leaving his own scars on you—as he goes. He pushes you back down to the pillows so his lips can continue their work, latching onto the quickly hardening bud and suckling lightly. His groan sends little shockwaves through you and he looks up with brows furrowed like he’s in pain with how good it all feels.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s so soft you barely hear it between licks at your chest.

“No,” you finally find it in you to respond, shaking your head and pulling him back to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says again while you nip at his earlobe and down his jaw, tight pants yielding under your hands as they’re tugged away so he’s just as bare as you.

“No,” you shake your head and any response dies on his tongue as you dig your fingers into the feathers at the base of his wings and pull him forward.

Hawks lets out a choked gasp as his length, bare, hard, and leaking glides across your cunt. Any other time, you’d have liked to savor this moment. Get on your knees and worship his pretty cock—and you know it's pretty, just from your short glimpse. He’s long and perfectly thick, just how you dreamed he would be. The cute tuft of blond curls at his base is course in the best way as you trail your fingers through it to take him in your palm.

“Ahh,” he keens, arching above you with his head thrown back as you stroke him for the first time.

It’s been so long, you're not sure how you ever resisted this before. Not with how heavy and warm he is in your fist.

“Hawks,” you moan, sucking at the dip in his collarbone and moving to bite at his nipple. “Hawks, please.”

“I—” you think he might protest but you flick your thumb over the tip and it pours precum to help the slide of your fingers.

He’s already got those powerful arms hooked under your knees, all he has to do is lean forward and sink into that tight, awaiting heat, and he knows it. You can see the resolve cracking.

“Hawks,” you beg again. Because you are begging, that’s what this is.

And he looks at you, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and brows all bunched up with his head shaking.

“Hawks.”

His hands grip the underside of your thighs and knock your hand from his dick.

“Hawks.”

His forehead comes down to rest against yours, eyes squeezed shut and red at the edges. You feel the sting at the corners as if they were your own.

“Hawks.”

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

Is he dying now?

Are you killing him?

“Hawks.”

His breath hitches, whatever he might have said is long gone when the head of his cock catches against your entrance.

“Hawks—”

He sinks in to the hilt all at once and the last utterance of his name is a yelp. Your walls clamp down hard around the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers, so hot and long and thick as he pulses inside you.

There are no words after that.

No names, no refusals, just his face pressed up on yours as he pushes your thighs to your chest and rolls his hips, fucking you evenly into the mattress.

Not soft or slow or overly rough.

Though it is all of those things at once as well.

Hawks has always been full of contradictions. It makes sense that this is too.

Both your eyes stay open, lips brushing and sharing breath as he slips a hand back down to your clit and starts those perfect circles up again.

He doesn’t ask you questions now. Just stares in your eyes and sinks his cock into your over and over until you feel fuller, more complete than you ever have in the whole of your life.

There’s no warning leading up to the end. You feel the crest approaching, the coil waiting to snap low in your belly and you don’t dare take your eyes off his face. You need to commit the entirety of this moment to memory. Just in case.

Just in case it never happens again.

Or worse, it happens over and over until it doesn’t.

Until you run out of chances to touch him.

Until he comes to you too far gone.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and that’s all the warning you get.

All the warning you have the strength to listen to as you tumble over the edge, waves of rolling pleasure burning under your skin. You clench hard around his cock as his hips stutter in their pace, thrusting unevenly as you gush and he spills rope after rope of hot release deep into you.

And you’d been wrong before, because this was full. This was whole, your stilling bodies pressed together at every point with his cock still hard and twitching as your walls milked him of cum that warmed you from the inside out.

This is what you would die for.

***

Later when you stumble into unwilling wakefulness, there are hands tucking a thin sheet over your bare skin.

Hawks has pulled himself from you after resting like you’d told him he should. He’s dressing, though not hurriedly, and you can’t find it in your jelly bones to move or stop him.

You’re both silent, even when he looks down to find your eyes alert and raking over him—costume donned and wings prepared for flight.

His face is drawn in a way that might have been resentment. Maybe towards you for breaking his resolve, maybe at himself for indulging in what he cannot have.

I can’t.

You hear the words as clear as though he’d just said them.

I can’t.

Can’t have you. Can’t forget his purpose. Can’t have gentle things.

Hawks is a villain, first and foremost, above all else and that includes you.

So you don’t move to stop him as he walks softly through your door. You just watch as he makes his way to the open window and perches on the ledge. He does look back, only briefly, to see you draped across the sheets, head resting on your arm and staring at him as he leaves you.

The ghost of that cheeky grin crawls its way onto his face before he tips backwards off the landing and into the night sky. He winks once before the indigo of the night swallows him like the maw of a leviathan. The city has teeth and it will chew him up and spit him back out into your arms soon enough.

So you’re content to wait.

You know this isn’t the last time. That he’ll come back to you as he’s always done. And offer you more and more of himself each time.

Because you can only touch him when he’s dying.

And this world is nothing if not determined to kill him.

So you can keep your purpose.

And by extension, you can keep him.

[lady-plantagenet]

Unsolicited Book Reviews (n7): Catherine

Rating: 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Even before I had an account, I tended to go to tumblr to see people’s opinions before buying a histfic. Certain books are either severely underrepresented, where I feel like there needs to be something on them, whereas others, though talked about enough, something more can still be said about them. So for my quarantine fun, I have decided to start a series where I review every medieval historical fiction novel I read. Hopefully, it will either start interesting discussions or at least be some help for those browsing its tag when considering purchasing it.

TL;DR: My mutual @nuingiliath​ had pretty strong opinions about this book but she had also provided me with an excerpt saying that the prose was, nonetheless, pretty great. I must absolutely agree with the latter point. I think that listening to the audible version would make the experience even more pleasurable as you get the RADA-trained Diane Bishop as your narrator, and her performance alone made me decide to give audio books a try (perhaps when the eye problems that have plagued me this week return). I don’t need to have read a bodice ripper to affirmatively tell you that this is not, in fact, that. This is a book which I would call ‘of quality’ , not only because of its prose but also because of its treatment of issues such as the peasants’ revolt, life as a minor gentry and piety. However, if your tastes are strictly post-modern I don’t think you’d be as open to this book as I have because it is very heteronormative, and romantic in the old fashioned sense.

Plot: We follow Catherine Swynford from her departure from Sheppy (?) Priory aged 15 to the first years of her marriage to Gaunt. It is told in omniscient third person and at times I found myself surprised by how intimately we got to know Catherine, yet how the author managed to not tie herself down to her POV. As this book’s title suggests this book is ABOUT Catherine and Anya Seton shows as much interest in her years without Gaunt as with her years spent knowing him. All romance must contain a degree of tragedy and something must be said about an author that manages to invoke high stakes and the sense of loss even when, we the readers, know there will be a happy ending. Unlike The Sunne in Splendour, this book did not feel long at all and yet when I got to the end and the author was trying to bring the reader back to reflect on how the world was much changed for our character since the beginning, I was successfully drawn into that dreaded feeling you get when you reach the end of a saga-like book. But this book was only like 500 pages whereas Sunne is like 900! I am not an expert in this era so I cannot say how accurate the plot was or what the deviations were and if they were necessary but I felt at home in the medieval ages just as I felt with Crown in Candlelight. One thing I would say is that I would have wanted to have spent a bit longer with Blanche of Lancaster, although, perhaps not at the expense of the other sections (basically I would just elongate the book) because I felt they all were compelling. I would have wanted to have also seen more of Nicola and Gibbon because they razed my heart and, honestly, I was really here for the gothic portion of the book in the first quarter. I will say that, after, I got a tad bit upset by the fact that we do not get enough of a build up to Gaunt and Catherine’s relationship. The scene where she approached him while he is weeping in the Avalon Chamber was a bit abrupt. Especially since earlier scenes established that Gaunt wasn't quite as taken with her at first sight as she with him. To be honest, people’s comments about how this book is melodramatic have made me expect much more romance than I got. 

I wasn’t really disappointed by that to be honest because I got to spend time with Catherine and the revolutions of the soul (so to speak) that she experienced. Nevertheless, by the book’s close their relationship was made to appear quite pragmatic and companionly (which I mean I understand because they were middle-aged by then) and I couldn’t help but, all that time, feel like that Catherine got the short end of the stick out of all of Gaunt’s wives because they weren't together together during the best years of their lives where there was passion and love between them and in their young bodies. After Catherine fled the Savoy and made penance for her daughter’s disappearance I took in the scenes with great pleasure but all the while I was waiting, waiting with her and feeling her trepidation to be reunited with Gaunt and then *poof* 30 pages left and they are old by that time. It was just so harrowing. I think it is a testament to the author’s craft that I felt so tense and engaged throughout this whole will he return, wont he? The best sections were nonetheless Catherine’s penance and the Savoy’s Palace’s burning. OOOH boy was my heart beating throughout, my hair stood on end when the ‘when Adam delved and eve spun who then was the gentleman’ chant ominously appeared just before that happened. Also the whole description of the escape and the priest’s murder were something else. I really felt like I was there. 

Characterisation: It is always great to see an author who has the sufficient range to make the audience feel the character’s ageing, even from omniscient third person. Catherine as the young girl felt a bit insipid to me and also a bit like a parody of an old-fashioned historical romance heroine, but I suppose it made sense given that she was meant to be sheltered. However, older C Swynford had lots more depth to her character than many reviewers concede here and her actions had consequences and effects on her development. It was especially interesting to see her struggle with her own identity as a yeoman’s daughter when the peasant’s revolt broke out. You could see how confused she was (which gave her complexity as not just another know-it-all female character) When conversing with her mendicant priest about why she thinks serfdom would be beneficial to everyone because of the order it provides, not understanding how freedom’s importance to the serfs was so visceral that it overrode concerns such as stability. Because having spent so much time in royal circles where she was regularly overawed by those of higher ranks, she had become too preoccupied in looking up and not enough in looking down. Her relationship with her serf (whose name now escapes me as its been a week) was such a lovely insight into the motivations of the range of classes which were a part of this and what I appreciated the most is that the book wasn’t gospelly in blaming any one ‘estate’ and had done well showing how the situation had become difficult because of the destabilising effects of the Black Death. I really think that a good work of fiction must always let the reader make up their mind instead of shoving your views down their throats and I really felt like I was given space to think. 

Another part of her character that I found very realistic was how she felt during her pilgrimage. Having not so long gone on one myself, I can attest to the absolute guilt that is felt when certain relics and churches do not move you the way you thought they would. The way she envies Blanche’s positive experience at My Lady of Walsingham because the latter had a pure conscience whereas the former was full of guilt was harrowing and it reflects how many christians even today do not have the privilege to take in every aspect of the faith they would wish and sometimes just do not feel the things that others have told them they are supposed to feel. I think this aspect of christian life that needs more representation generally. God seems unconcerned with her and its just as that that no miracle comes to her and her daughter doesn’t appear until she had made peace with herself (of which Julian of Norwich was no small part) and even then she sort of loses her because her daughter becomes an Anchoress. The whole time it felt like things were happening to Catherine as they do to everyone else. There were, however, a couple of characters which I felt I would have wanted more development - Gaunt for one was pretty elusive the whole novel, but not too little that he did not hold any appeal or attraction to the reader (and me). His stubborn personality and temper came through very well and I felt that through it all, his feelings for Catherine were genuine and pure. I realised I rooted for Gaunt when I felt sad for him when Catherine left all of a sudden. It really was an impossible situation. Geoffrey Chaucer was charming and I loved how he had those witty observations and Blanche held this lovely distant aura and it made one aware that there was more to see of her than people’s perception of her as a marble statue would allow them to. That’s why I felt like I wanted more time with her. Hugh Swynford I also found quite tragic especially a bit after he died when Catherine returned to Kettlethorpe and there was this whole reminder of him and retrospective of their turbulent life together. He really was a scared terce man. Richard II was comical by the end but I agree with those who say his characterisation was offensive and queer-coded. I think they could have done with ‘whimsical Peter-pan boy’ without that bit where he pretty much goes on a killing spree against the members of the peasant’s revolt. The flower of the characterisation in this book were certainly the secondary characters such as Cob (the serf! - I now remember his name), (Catherine’s lady whose name I forgot) and Gaunt’s French servant (to name a few) who were all allowed character arcs without her. I felt for them all and their lives were of interest to me on their own merits as well as how they intertwined with Catherine. I loved the amount of attention put on gentry life and how it constantly dances between serfdom and nobility, all together with the ins and outs of running an estate, collecting rent and I am so glad that Catherine wasn’t spending the whole book just whirling around the royal court for this reason. I generally find such stories with their all about ‘oh look it’s this famous lady’ and ‘wow this is her family’ and female characters just get stuck having inconsequential conversations while there are grittier tales to be told.

Prose: As with all good prose there is not much to say. Long paragraphs on this topic are usually for books with middling or bad prose. It was purple prose at its finest (as in it will go on my goodreads shelf with that same name). It was however not as fluent, lyrical and stream-of-consciousnessy as say ‘We Speak No Treason’, nor was the vocabulary or sentence structure as original as another third person omniscient novel: ‘The Last of the Barons’. I can sort of respects that fact because, in contrast to TWOTR novels of which there are plenty, there is really really no need for barely any exposition or great clarity for them to make sense in the year of our lord 2022. However, this was written in the 1950s and as far as I know it was among the first books of its time period, and certainly, the first Gaunt and Catherine novel. It would compare this book’s prose to that of a well-written fairy tale. Engaging and well-paced but still a book that consistently takes a break and focuses on the moment and the characters and does not let the reader move-on until we have taken in every sight, smell, sound and feeling of certain scenes. I suppose this is what the youths of today call ‘character-driven’ as opposed to ‘plot-driven’. As always, I feel like I need to put this disclaimer: No I do not think it is a work of art surpassing the grit of Dostoevsky or whatever. But I am allowed to say it is a good book nonetheless.

In Conclusion, I would recommend this to everyone. Especially those looking to write a historical novel. I would especially recommend you purchase it on audible because it offers an interesting insight into how long sentences appear in the reader’s mind. It certainly helped me reconsider the ‘tempo’ of my own work’s sentences if you know what I mean. It was called a ‘feminist’ novel during its time and I must insist that it still be called so. This is one of the only novels I have ever read where a woman is given a redemption arc. Many ‘feminist’ novels still have women’s personalities revolve around men in the hidden guise of ‘family’. By all means let them love their husbands and their kids but if there is no trace of an interior life or of a conscience that is not result-driven and personal, then they are characters who exist only in relation to others. Granted the status-based medieval ages makes it hard for an author to evoke this through, however, people back then also had their personal relationship with god. Personhood was a concept that existed back then and I think that this book makes a good job at showing how Catherine’s life is beholden with many more gross and complex issues besides feeling ‘restricted’ by her gender or struggling to conceive a child or romantic issues or such. In this tale she struggles with faith, her own conscience, fulfilling unwanted duties as lady of the manor even after Hugh dies and the changing fabric of 1380 society. In other words, stuff that is not gendered. She exists beyond a romantic heroine as the author never seems to tire of her, and continues following her life even when she is not with gaunt. 

[muzawrites]

Carrying On (Jay Park Mafia AU)

Summary: Its been said that in times of tragedy new relationships emerge and become stronger, when tragedy strikes we seek connection it is in our nature.  How does the loss of their father affect the relationship between Jay and his adopted sister, Amara. Does it strengthen it? Or does it reveal things which were once hidden?

AN:  This is the first story I’ve ever posted, constructive criticism is always welcome

Fifty-one.... fifty-two…. fifty-three…. fifty-four…. fifty-five… damn this is really not working. Why do they always make it seem like counting sheep helps you fall asleep? I checked the clock again- 12:05am. Sighing, I rolled over to the cooler side of my bed and let my mind wonder to the last 2 weeks, the worst 2 weeks of my life as far as I can remember. My adopted father and leader of the most powerful mafia clan in South Korea had passed away, leaving his only son Jae-beom (aka Jay) in charge of his empire.

I don’t remember too much from my childhood before I was adopted but from the snippets I do remember and what I’ve been told, it wasn’t good. I was found by Jay’s father going through garbage outside one of the restaurants the family owns at the age of 10, having been abandoned by my mother for being a mixed-race baby, I guess she couldn’t deal with having a half black half Korean child any longer. According Jay’s father I reminded him of the daughter he had lost a couple years prior when she and her mother (his wife/Jay’s mother) had falling ill and both passed away. In the back of my head I always felt like some sort of ‘replacement child’ for the daughter he had lost, even though he never made me feel like it, even Jay made me feel like his little sister even though it took a bit of time for him to get use to me as he was 16years old when I was “brought into the family” but over time we became very close, even naming me his co-right hand along with his best friend Simon. And of course he always took his role as the protective big brother a little too seriously with some of my boyfriends throughout high school and varsity. They would break up with me after a few weeks with either a broken nose or blackened eye.

I sighed and rolled over one more time before giving up and getting out of bed to make a cup of tea or something stronger to help me fall asleep. I threw a long silk robe over my sleep chemise to conserve some decency just in case one of the guards was roaming around. As I walked down the hall, I noticed Jay’s bedroom door slightly open with the light inside shining through. After softly knocked I pushed the door to find him sitting on the couch facing the fireplace with the coffee table filled with presumably work papers, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” he asked without turning around, his full attention on the fire before him. “Shouldn’t you?” I rebutted as I grabbed the empty whiskey glass in his hand, walked over to the mini bar in his room to get him a refill and me a glass of his strongest whiskey on the rocks. He was still wearing the black slacks and black dress shirt he wore earlier in the day with the tie thrown somewhere in the room and his top two buttons undone.

“Seems we both can’t fall asleep huh” he said, as I handed him his glass. He mumbled a soft thanks as I sat down next to him. “Seems like” I replied leaning into his shoulder and staring into the flames with him. For some time, nothing could be heard but the fire crackling and the occasional clinking of ice against glass as we took sips of our drinks. “So, what happens now?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. He sighed, running his hand over his face. “In a few days, we meet with the heads of the families underneath us to continue business as usual” he answered, gulped down the rest of his drink and placed the glass on the side table as to not jolt me from his shoulder. “Can’t believe he’s gone” I whispered.

“Neither can I” he responded, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Jay had been prepped to be the leader of the family organisation since he turned 13 and now at the age of 32, he was more than ready to take over and I had no doubt he would do great things in this position but the fact of our father’s passing was still heavy in our hearts. I gulped down the rest of my drink as well and placed my glass on coffee table. I stretched out my back and neck, unconsciously pushing my chest out against the silk of my robe. Long gone were the days of the scrawny little girl who first joined the family; I had grown into a woman with curves in all the right places, soft caramel skin which glowed under the light of the fire. From the corner of my eye, I notice Jay intensely watching me, not being able to decipher the look like I usually would be able to I pushed it aside.

“Can I have a hug?” I asked, giving him my best puppy dog eyes and pout. He chuckled while getting up and opening his arms up for me. I quickly jumped into his arms and wrapped my arms around his neck before he could change his mind. He wrapped his arms around my waist a bit lower than they usually would be. For some reason this hug felt different from every other hug we’ve shared, but still felt warm, safe and like home. “I’ll never let anything or anyone hurt you” he suddenly confessed into my hair as he placed a soft kiss on the crown of my head, I looked up to find his dark brown eyes staring into mine. “And I will never leave your side” I replied, my statement making him smile. I don’t know what took over me but I suddenly found myself leaning up to kiss him. He didn’t respond at first but after a few seconds I felt his lips move against mine. This kiss was so much better than any I had ever experienced before. His lips were soft but firm, he tasted of the whiskey we had been drinking and a hint of something else, something uniquely him, he took full control of the kiss holding onto my waist a little tighter. Suddenly I felt like a bucket of cold water fell on me when I felt his tongue brushing against my lips and I came to my senses. I shouldn’t have kissed Jay… he was practically my older brother. I quickly ended the kiss, pushing myself away from him and loosening his grip on my waist in the process. “I’m sorry” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes, trying to get past him and back to my room and to hide under my covers from the embarrassment. “Amara wait” he said, calling me by my birth name instead of the name I was given when I came into the family. He was the only one who called me Amara as he knew I preferred that name a little bit more than my given name. He quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me back into his embrace before I could even take 5 steps away from him. I couldn’t bare to look into his face because of the embarrassment. “That kiss wasn’t a mistake” he said softly. I looked up at him, surprised. “I’ve always felt more for you than any normal brother would or even should, I guess that’s why I have always been so protective over you. At first I thought it was because you had such a tough time growing up and I wanted to protect you from that and this hectic mafia life you had been brought into, but as we grew older I knew it was much more than that. That’s why I could never stand seeing you with those idiots you used to date, especially that piece of shit Bobby” he said. Bobby was the guy I had dated in my senior year of high school but he had broken up with me right after prom after I had given him my virginity, stating that the only reason he was with me was to sleep with the “Park Princess”. I remember crying for a week but after that he mysteriously went missing and his family left town not long after. I had always assumed he had left with his family.

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine and I’m never letting you go” he declared, looking deep into my eyes before pulling me back into a slightly rough passionate kiss. Deep down I knew I felt the same way about him. I even had a full blown crush on Jay between the ages of 16-18 but after that I quickly pushed it aside thinking it was not only one sided but wrong as he was supposed to be my brother. I briefly thought back to my past boyfriends and realised they all had either personality or physical similarities to Jay but in my mind and heart they would never amount to him. I felt him walk backwards towards the couch without breaking our passionate embrace. He broke our kiss to sit down and signalled for me to straddle him. Before I did I untied the knot I had done on my robe, letting the soft silk fall off my skin, revealing the deep red chemise I was wearing underneath. “Fuck” I heard him whisper as I straddled his lap and continued kissing him, his hands returned to my waist, pulling me closer into him which cause my barely covered pussy to brush up against the quickly growing bulge in his pants, this action causing us both to groan into each other’s mouths.

His lips left mine and started trailing down my neck, finding that sweet spot that made me grind into him just a little harder. My fingers made quick work unbuttoning his shirt and slowly ran down his strong chest lightly brushing over his nipples, this action causing him to groan and dig his fingers- which had moved from my waist to my ass- deeper into my soft but firm flesh. His lips quickly returned to mine as his hands started trailing up, dragging my chemise with them. We briefly separated so he could pull the material over my head before returning to the kiss. “Hold on tight” he muttered, as he got up without breaking our kiss, my legs wrapped securely around his waist. He softly placed me onto his bed as he broke apart from my lips to remove the rest of his shirt. “Fuck you’re perfect” he groaned, his voice laced with lust. “Those fuckers didn’t deserve you” he muttered as he returned to kissing my neck, this time also grabbing onto my boobs and playing with my nipple with his one hand whilst the other trailed down the side of my body and returned to my legs around his waist, I felt nothing but him at that moment, the soft heated touch of his hands running down my body, the smell of his rich expensive cologne, his soft lips on my nipple driving me crazy. At that moment all my thoughts were consumed by him. “Have you ever wondered what happened to that piece of shit Bobby” he said looking into my eyes with a dark look I had only seen a handful of times. “I killed him” he said, now kissing and sucking my left nipples whilst his right hand continued to play with the other.  “What!” pulling his hair causing him to look up at me, “Not only did he have the audacity to touch what’s mine, but he hurt you as well…he had to pay for that” he declared kissing me once again. As dark and twisted as it seems, his confession turned me on even more.

His kisses left my lips once again as he kissed my body further and further down. His fingers made quick work of the cute thong I had been wearing, tearing it off my body “Hey! That was one of my favourites” I complained before moaning as his fingers brushed up against my clit, “I’ll buy you a million more, get you whatever you want and I’ll do whatever you want” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “Well right now, I want you to stop teasing and eat me out” I said grabbing onto his hair, pushing him down towards where I needed him most, “Your wish is my command, my Queen” he said seductively before attaching his lips to my clit. Him calling me his Queen and the feeling of his thick fingers entering me as he sucked my clit made me cum instantly. “Jay!” I screamed his name as I experienced a high like never before. As I came down from it, he pulled his fingers out of me and licked them clean whilst looking me dead in the eye. “You taste so good babygirl I could be down there forever” he said. I quickly sat up and pushed him back and kissed him, tasting myself on his lips sent my body into overdrive as I quickly unbuckled his pants. He chuckled at the rushed movements and pushed me back as he got up to remove his pants.

 As he did this, I got a full proper look at his body; firm, muscular, covered in tattoos and all mine. I truly was the luckiest girl in the world at that moment. As he pulled down his briefs, I got my first proper look at him, he was long, thick and veiny. His tip was an angry red colour dripping beads of pre-cum. He’s gorgeous, I thought. I reached out to feel him, barely able to wrap my hand around him. He felt hot and heavy in my hand. I slowly started to stroke him, and he let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard causing me to look up at him. His eyes were dark with lust and passion. “Baby, you better stop if you don’t want this to end too early” he groaned, taking my hand away from him and leaning into another kiss. He laid me down and once again started kissing my neck. At the back of my mind I wondered if it would hurt; Jay was definitely much more blessed than any other man I had been with.

“Don’t worry baby I’ll go slow” he said positioning himself between my legs as if reading my mind.

“At first” I replied with a sexy smirk on my face as I grabbed him and pumped him a few times before lining him up with my entrance.  “I love you” he said as he slowly entered me. He felt so big that it kind of hurt but I didn’t want him to stop. The pleasure outweighed the pain. “Fuck baby, I love you too” I moaned as he finally bottomed out. “Shit baby you feel so good” he groaned as he started moving at a slow and steady pace. I grabbed his face and pulled him down into another kiss, missing the feel of his lips on me. In this moment I felt complete I knew that we were meant to be, I knew that he was fully mine and as I his. “Fuck baby harder” I moaned as he moved one of my legs to rest on his shoulder. He granted my wish as he started moving faster and harder, hitting a spot in me that made my brain go all fuzzy. I became a moaning mess underneath him as he did what he pleased with my body. “Shit baby, I’m so close” I groaned against his lips. At that moment he pulled out of me and before I could protest he flipped me over onto my stomach and pulled my hips up into a perfectly arched position, he quickly re-entered me, now feeling even deeper than he was before. The sounds that were coming out my mouth didn’t sound like me but at that moment in time I didn’t care because all my body and mind were focused on Jay and the pleasure he was giving me. My mind briefly drifted, the thought of him impregnating me at the moment and how beautiful our baby would be warming me up even more. This thought quickly got pushed aside as I felt him grab my hair and pull me up till my back met his chest. “Fuck baby you feel so good and so fucken tight” he groaned into my ear as I turned my head to kiss him. “I want to feel you cum on me” he groaned as his fingers attached themselves to my clit sending me into the most mind-blowing orgasm I’ve ever experienced in my life. My walls tightened so much around him that he came not a second later. He continued pumping into me, drawing out our highs as much as possible. “Fuck” he sighed in content. “I’m never going to get enough of you” he said pulling me into another kiss.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing” I said clenching my inner walls around his still hard member. He groaned, flipping us over till I was on top of him with his dick deep inside me.

“No, not a bad thing at all” he smirked as I slowly started moving, “You’re mine forever” he said, sitting up and kissing me once again. We continued to make love until the sun slowly started peaking through the curtains. “I love you” he whispered into my hair as I lay in his arms, “And I love you” I replied as I turned my head to give him one last kiss before we fell asleep.

At the back of our minds, we both knew we would probably face a lot of heat and probably negative attention if our relationship was to be exposed with most saying it’s wrong. However, I knew that no matter what Jay would never leave me nor I him.

The End

[crescentmoons-and-stardust]

The Broken Hearts Hotel

Chapter One: Star-Crossed

I’ve had many names over the years. I don’t even remember my original name so I’ll use the most popular one. The one everyone recognizes. 

Juliet is my name and fair Verona is where I’m from (in this version, at least). My age is disputable but I remember I was young. Too young for what I experienced. It blows my mind that some can even consider my tale a romance when I think about it. My life was cushy, I’ll admit. My family was rich and influential. I didn’t want for anything growing up. Looking back I realize I had the perfect life but hindsight is twenty twenty. 

Maybe that’s why I did what I did though. I was a spoiled, bored teenager. I needed excitement in my life.

Rosalina was considered the beauty of the family. She was a few years older than me and was totally stuck up. Always surrounded by a group of friends, my older cousin had no time for little ole me. Actually, no one really had time for me. My other cousin Tybalt had an older brother protectiveness of me but other than that he left me alone. My dearest (and truthfully, only) friend was my nurse. For the record, her name was Bianca. That’s usually left out.

Bianca was my friend and surrogate mother since my own couldn’t bother herself with parenting. Bianca was old fashioned. We’d spend our time doing needlepoint and reading the bible. Like I said, I was a bored teenager.

So when I was finally allowed to attend one of our grand masquerade parties, I was thrilled. Bianca sewed me a gorgeous dress, though the neckline was a little too modest for my taste. I spent hours at the market trying to find the perfect mask. I finally decided on a dainty red and gold mask lined with pearls. I was going all out for my first masquerade. 

I could barely sleep the night beforehand. I was so excited. I had my hair done and was dressed hours before the party started. I’m not going to lie, when I looked in the mirror, I was blown away by how I looked. I finally looked like a woman, and a beautiful one at that.

The party was both amazing and overwhelming. There were so many people that I had to greet and so many men to dance with. But one man in particular caught my eye.

So I should probably back up here and talk about the rivalry that has plagued my story for centuries. Montagues and Capults have hated each other since God knows when. It goes back years, maybe even decades. What was the issue? No one knows. Isn’t it ironic? Isn’t it poetic? 

Let’s be real, it’s stupid. And I’m sure the original reason for the hatred between my family and his was stupid as well. The rivalry was well known throughout the town. I can only assume everyone else rolled their eyes when it was brought up.

Anyway, back to the party. Romeo caught my eye from across the room. Was it love at first sight? I thought so but what did I know? I’d never been in love before. But there he was looking as handsome as a prince. And he was staring at me in much the same way. I blushed and broke eye contact first. Suddenly I was filled with panic and I slipped out into the garden. He followed me a moment after. 

“My lady,” He bowed to me. Actually bowed. How could I resist that? “My name is Romeo.”

“Nice to meet you Romeo,” I murmured. I was going for demure but it came out as a squeak. He took my hand and kissed it in greeting. I could have melted into a puddle on the floor. Embarrassing, I know, but this was the first man to interact with me outside of family. I didn’t know at the time that he had originally been there for Rosalina. Or that he fell in love with a different girl each week, I just knew that there was a handsome man before me. Me. Boring, good mannered, Juliet.

Well it wasn’t long before we were in the garden kissing until my lips went numb. Unfortunately my absence was noted and Tybalt came searching for me. Not only did he ruin my first kiss but he made such a scene that Romeo was soon kicked out of the party. 

I was sent to my room at once where I wallowed in despair. Would I ever see my beloved Romeo again? Well I didn’t have to wait for very long for my answer. Romeo scaled the wall and invited himself into my room and not long after, my bed.

It was wonderful and scary and thrilling all at once. The things he whispered in my ear, the lengths he promised to go for me. It’s no wonder I thought myself in love with him. And for that night, everything was perfect. 

It all fell apart pretty quickly though. Romeo got a little too hot headed in the streets and killed my cousin. You think that would end any romantic feelings on my part but I was young and stupid. Tybalt started it anyway! He killed Romeo’s best friend first. Romeo was just a loyal friend. It was sweet, really.

That’s what I told myself. Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit. And then Romeo had to go into hiding. You see, they didn’t know it had been Romeo who killed Tybalt. The fight happened late at night and the only other witness, Mercruito, was already dead. So he left his body and fled to my bedroom to stash the murder weapon. He needed to leave town but he promised he’d come back. And I promised to wait. And I did. For months. He took an apprenticeship a few villages over while he waited for someone else to take the blame for Tybalt’s death. So I wrote him love letters that I never sent. I kept my window unlocked every night. I waited and prayed and yearned. And then I met Paris.

Paris was not nearly as handsome as Romeo but he was still an attractive man. While Romeo was flirtatious and suave, Paris was charming and gentle. He was a sweet man and if I hadn’t met Romeo, I think I would have been ecstatic when my mother announced our engagement. 

We would have been happy together. I realize that now, but then all I thought of was my Romeo. I had a sweet spot for Paris and that only caused guilt when I remembered that I had already promised myself to another. Romeo was my true love. How could I ever think I’d be happy with another?

The timing of Romeo’s return couldn’t have been more perfect, almost as if he planned it like that. He had heard about the engagement. He raged and he sobbed as he asked if I was going to abandon him so easily. He’d die for me, he said. Would I be willing to do the same?

I would. And I did. With a special tonic I would fake my death and then Romeo would come get me from my family’s crypt. He’d whisk me away and we would start a new life together. I believed him and I think he believed himself as well. But it’s like I said earlier, Romeo was quick to fall in love. 

So when the tonic was finally ready I drank it quickly before I could change my mind. My thoughts slowed and my vision blurred. I became sluggish and panicked as the tonic slowed my heart rate. I tried to make it to my bed but I think I may have lost consciousness before I could. I heard shouts as my world went black.

When I woke, my body ached. I was lying on a stone slab in a thin dress that did not keep out the cold. As my thoughts returned to me, I looked around and there was my Romeo waiting for me. I gave a weak smile that he did not return. Instead, he could not meet my eye and was fidgeting nervously.

“I think we’ve made a mistake,” He said at last. My thoughts were still confused so I did not respond. 

“It was a fantasy to think we should run away together,” He continued.

“What are you saying?” I asked but I already knew. He was not going to start a new life with me. 

“Perhaps you should marry Paris instead.” And then I knew. He had met someone else. He did not love me, he never did. This was all a game to him and it had finally gone too far.

“I gave up everything for you!” I cried. He shrugged and told me I wasn’t actually dead. I could return home to my family’s rejoice and it would be like nothing had changed. But things had changed. My heart was broken as the man who’d asked me to die for him had already moved on.

And suddenly I was angry. A burning white hatred bloomed inside me. I wanted him to suffer the way I had while he had been gone. How hopeless and sad I’d been. The happiness I’d felt when he returned was now being ripped away from me. I’d done all he had asked. I’d waited and was going to give up my entire life for him.

It was stupid to remind him of Tybalt. That I could tell everyone what he had done. I had the murder weapon after all, still rusted with my cousin’s blood. Romeo’s face paled as he tried to calm me. The more he tried, the angrier I became until we were both yelling.

I didn’t even see the knife he had until I felt it thrust up inside of me. He looked as shocked as I felt as we both realized what he had done. But then just as quickly, the shock vanished from his face as determined resolve replaced it. He stabbed me over and over again until my white dress was no longer white and the blood was pooling onto the floor. He laid me down gently, as gently as he had done when he shared my bed. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear that I tried not to hear. His tears that dripped down onto me only made me angrier and with my last strength I tried to push him away.

Blackness. Then light. Then the Broken Hearts Hotel. 

My story, as twisted and retold as it has now become, is the greatest romantic tragedy of all time. And I couldn’t be any more furious about it.

[simon-newman]

Newman’s Anime Reviews - Kimetsu no Yaiba

Hello Everyone and welcome to my first anime review in… Nearly 4 years?

*Cough*

Yeah - I know - I am still supposed to write the Seven Witches review… I have no excuses. I will get to it. SOMEDAY!

But today I’m going to talk about another anime. The first title from my 2021 anime challenge.

Actually this is the only anime from the challenge list that I’ve picked myself because I’ve been intending to watch it for a while now.

I’m talking about

Kimetsu no Yaiba

Now - I didn’t really know what I’m getting myself into. I’m not sure if this counts as an achievement but I didn’t know shit about this title outside of:

Some people I know highly recommended it to me,

Nezuko is the best girl (and a demon)

There’s some dude wearing boar’s head as a mask,

Swords

Apparently it’s about killing demons

This is everything. EVERYTHING I knew when I started watching.

First things first however - let's start with the premise.

We meet our protagonist - Kamaboko Gonpachiro as he’s living his harsh but happy life with his large family. Monjiro takes on the responsibility of caring for his mother and younger siblings as the oldest male in the family after his father’s death before the start of the plot.

We join our protagonist as he goes down the mountain to sell charcoal at the nearby village and promises to come back with a lot of goods and food for the New Year’s.

Right off the bat we’re presented with beautiful scenes of  a loving family life our protagonist enjoys and I’m not going to make any anime veteran jokes about it.

Long story short - Tontaro’s trip lasts longer than he expected and he ends up staying the night at the village. It is then that we learn about demons that prowl the night of Kimetsu no Yaiba world. Evil creatures of darkness that feed on the flesh of humans. We also learn about demon hunters who protect people from those demons.

Gengoro resumes his trip back early in the morning but thanks to his keen sense of smell soon realizes that something is wrong. Very wrong. He rushes forward to get back as soon as possible but it is already too late.

There was a demon attack during the night and his family got killed with the sole exception of his sister Nezuko who was turned into a demon.

Surprising a demon hunter who appears shortly after Nezuko manages to regain her senses and has strong enough will to resist attacking humans. Thus begins Kanjiro’s journey - to become a demon slayer himself, avenge his family, protect others from what happened to him and find a way to turn his sister back into a regular human.

Sounds easy, right?

  I’ll be honest here that while the beginning was executed beautifully I must admit that I wasn’t really feeling this anime right away.

It seemed like your standard shounen anime from the start. Greatly executed despite being very cliche but still not outstanding.

Tragedy to set our protagonists on their way followed by the training arc and Jangoro finally becoming a demon slayer while Nezuko changes in her own way to be able to live without consuming humans - surprising experienced demon slayers.

It is only after that that the real story begins and we follow Tanjiro as he starts his mission as a true demon slayer himself.

Truly basics of the basics if I were to be honest. At that point I couldn’t really complain about anything in this show but at the same time nothing really stood out. As mentioned - the story was cliche. The fights so far were so-so. Animation was good but at the same time I knew that Ufotable isn’t showing it’s best yet. Somehow however it all just worked - together with music which really played into my tastes - yes - I really enjoy the music in this show (make it the one thing i really liked at that point).

But then everything changed with the Asakusa Arc.

Oh no! It’s Michael Jackson! RUN!

  The introduction of the Big Bad Muzan, his Twelve Demon Moons and the possible way of turning Nezuko back into human set our vague goals in place and Kentaro finally had a clear mission to accomplish.

What’s more - from this point on the fights become far more entertaining as well.

I did get the impression that this progress might be done too rapidly but thinking back it’s a good thing actually. We got too used to 150 episodes of nothing important happening and now any sort of early development seems rapid.

Before you say that I contradict my statements from earlier reviews hear me out: While we do meet major antagonists early on we don’t really get much from it outside of direction in the story. The Big Bad doesn’t make a move himself and is not even fought directly but becomes aware of Tangoro’s existence and wants him gone.

This is a good development to happen early in the story to keep the stakes high while not resolving anything just yet.

But this is not the end of improvements.

In the following story arc (Tsuzumi Mansion Arc) Santarou meets with two fellow demon slayer newbies - Zenitsu and Insouke who add some team dynamics to our already decent story and IMO further improves the fights we get to see.

As for the new team members… Zenitsu starts out pretty annoying at first with his extremely cowardly demeanor while Inosuke is the polar opposite with a fearless, rash personality.

I might be overthinking it but I see Inosuke as a parody - of sorts - for a character I personally dislike - Kirito from SAO. Both are dual-wielding master swordsmen with a feminine face (and for added bonus they’re both voiced by Yoshitsugu Matsuoka) but while Kirito’s strong because he’s the protag (Gary Stu) Inosuke is insanely ripped from his harsh life in the wilderness and… Well… Pretty much insane.

Pretty amazing, aren’t I? Pretty amazing, aren’t I?

  This change of pace - going from just Gentaro and Nezuko to a 4 man team with Zenitsu and Inosuke - marks the difference between the first and second half of this anime (and i forgot to mention it’s a whole 26 episodes show - not the 12 episodes short we got used to in recent years).

While the first half was kinda decent but not outstanding the second half is really, really entertaining to watch. Both the characters get a lot more chances at interaction and development and the action steps up from what we’ve seen before.

In short - two story arcs I’ve mentioned above supplemented what was lacking before. Things I wasn’t even clearly aware of initially.

Without a clear mission for Tenpachirou to accomplish we’d just descend into a monster-of-the-week formula and without more team members we’d be left with no means to explore our protagonists’ character in full.

What’s of Ponjirou extreme kindness if we don’t get to see him affect people with it outside of one-time-only interactions and his good relationship with his sister?

Yes - you can show it time and time again but from this point on it comes out more naturally and as I’ve mentioned already - we get to see it affect people in the long run - something I hope we’ll see further in the story.

Left to right: Boss Honey Badger, Sleeping Badass, Best Girl and Cinnamon Roll.

  Which brings me to this sad point…

Despite being a full 26 episodes show it still feels more like an introduction. We barely get to the right formula in the midpoint and conclude the fight against the first real enemy shortly before the anime is over. Souchirou’s journey has only just begun.

I’ve really wanted to write this review after watching the following Kimetsu no Yaiba Movie: Mugen Ressha-hen. That’s for multiple reasons.

At this point I know that this story arc is going to further up the stakes with the Upper Ranks of the Demon Moons getting into action but at the same time I’m really excited to see if Ufotable is going to show us what they’re capable of in terms of animation.

Because I think this anime deserves it.

Sadly - while the movie was out already I didn’t manage to watch it before writing this review.

Kamado Tanjirou vs Lower Moon One - Enmu.

  To sum it up - It was an interesting experience to see the anime develop in front of me - from a decent cliche show that didn’t make any major mistakes and played all the tropes just right into a really good and entertaining show in it’s own right.

My final assessment of the show is also the result of a certain niche this anime fits into. Namely the enjoyable sword fight scenes.

I’m definitely going to watch the movie when I’m able to and dive right into the following seasons of anime if they are made.

At this point something with this anime resonates with me - this show feels “just right” for some reason.

There’s also an added benefit of it not being dragged into infinity. From what I’ve heard the manga is already finished and we could get a definite end line before the story gets watered down into tasteless money grab.

Something to be appreciated when it comes to shounen manga…

Well. It is time to wrap up this review as well.

With all the above being said my final verdict is...

  Final Score: 8/10  +Newman’s Mark of Quality

Status: Completed

Sentence: Butterfly Mansion rehabilitation training (I bet I’d enjoy it after a while).

 Next: Code Geass

[hrtiu]

My contribution to day one of Rexsoka week. It’s a little bit of a bummer given the prompt is ‘hope,’ but I like where it ends up!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703133

Ahsoka had been in love with Rex for about a year when she told him to leave her on some desolate Outer-Rim skug hole of a planet. 

A year earlier the epiphany had been like punching a hole in a piece of flimsi—easy and weightless but completely irrevocable. He’d come back to Coruscant to speak at Dogma’s court-martial and to give his report on the Umbara debacle, and she’d been so relieved—so overjoyed—to finally see him healthy and sound that it just clicked.

She didn’t say anything, of course. Even if he reciprocated her feelings, there wasn’t really any way either of them could act on them, and she didn’t want to deal with the heartbreak. She also didn’t feel ready for those kinds of feelings, and doubted Rex was either. Rex was both a grown man and a being who had only experienced twelve years of life—all of them spent as a soldier preparing to sacrifice himself for the Republic. And as many adult situations in which she’d found herself and as much as she liked to think otherwise, curled up in the dark of her room at night Ahsoka was forced to admit to herself that she was still a child in many ways.

Thinking about it as little as possible was Ahsoka’s best defense, and she channeled all her affection for Rex into a fierce loyalty to him and all the clones of the 501st and an unshakable determination to win the war. Maybe after the war… she found herself thinking in her weaker moments. After the war what? She’d become a knight, and his legal status would be uncertain. There was no future.

Things didn’t change much after she left the Order. In theory she was no longer bound by the Code and could seek out personal relationships if she wanted to, but she couldn’t just switch off her entire way of being so easily. She also had no way of knowing if she’d ever see Rex again. She was unlikely to be allowed back into the GAR, and he wouldn’t be able to go looking for her even if he wanted to. She put her head down and tried to move forward with her life, but when her teenage mind decided to take off on flights of romantic fancy, her partner always had brown-golden eyes, stern posture, and light hair that contrasted against his dark skin.

When Ahsoka finally reunited with him for the Siege of Mandalore, she felt the stirrings of hope for the first time. Nothing about Rex was soft, but somehow the modest smile he gave her when introducing her to the 332nd was heart-breakingly tender. She’d worried somewhere in the back of her mind that Rex would have moved on, would not have carried their friendship with him like she had. But she’d returned to find the same disciplined, loyal, brave, true man she’d come to consider her dearest friend.

How quickly things change, Ahsoka thought as she watched the reddish sunlight of the dwarf sun filter through the tiny, rank room she and Rex had rented for the night. The Venator had crashed on some unnamed moon six months earlier, and they’d been on the run ever since. Ahsoka turned her head towards her fellow fugitive, asleep on his own narrow bed across the room from her, and she wondered how he always managed to coax his brain to unconsciousness no matter where he lay his head. Ahsoka hadn’t slept well in months.

In some ways she felt closer to Rex than ever. There was a heavy burden of sadness they shared between the two of them, dragging it from system to system as they tried to erase their tracks, and it tied them together like two prisoners on a chain gang. In other ways she’d never felt more distant from him, not even after she’d left the Order and didn’t know if he was dead or alive.

I did this, the familiar voice of guilt played in Ahsoka’s head. I took everything from him.

She’d replayed her escape from Order 66 over and over again in her mind, trying to understand where she’d gone wrong, what she could have done differently to save all those men. Try as she might, she didn’t see any way out without either giving herself up, which she could not accept, or letting Rex go, which she would not abide. But she must be wrong. There must have been some other way, there must have been something.

Rex stirred in his sleep, and Ahsoka watched the broad planes of his back expand and retract with each breath. It was exactly the same back as his brothers, the ones she’d let die. Did he wish that he’d died with them? Did he wish she’d left him in blissful, brainwashed ignorance? Did he… did he wish she’d just let herself go down?

The sunlight fully peaked through their window and Rex’s restless movements turned to a real awakening. He opened his eyes and greeted the day with a groan, then rolled out of bed and got dressed with typical clone efficiency. 

It was still strange to see Rex in civilian clothes—almost like that time she’d seen a holo of Obi-Wan in Mandalorian armor. The faded trousers and stained tunic never seemed to fit him quite right.

“Well, it’s a new day, Commander,” Rex said, and Ahsoka winced. He still always called her that, and she hated the title more with each passing day.

“Not much different from the last few,” Ahsoka said.

“We’ve been here too long. That patrol yesterday was too close a call—we need to move on.”

Ahsoka had to agree, though it pained her to admit it. She was getting so tired of running. She nodded her head wearily.

“So? Where to?” Rex said.

Ahsoka studied Rex for a long moment, then looked within herself and realized that today she finally had the strength to say what she’d been thinking had to be said for a long while.

“You need to check out the tip we got about Wolffe,” she said evenly.

Rex’s brow furrowed and he rubbed at his eyes, as if Ahsoka’s words could be chalked up to his drowsy state. “He’s supposed to be on Kamino. We can’t go to a planet full of chipped clones.”

“I can’t,” Ahsoka said pointedly.

Rex narrowed his eyes at Ahsoka. “What are you suggesting, Commander.”

Ahsoka sat up in bed and gathered her scratchy blankets around her. “He somehow managed to get a message to us that he wants out—you can’t ignore that.”

“We can’t ignore that, I agree.”

“He’s going to be on Kamino for the foreseeable future, and if I go there I’ll only hold you back.”

“Ahsoka-”

“I’m not going to take you away from your brothers again, Rex.”

Rex’s stern brow twitched and he pursed his lips. A long, weighty moment passed between them, then Rex spoke. “I won’t abandon you.”

“It’s not abandoning if I’m asking you to go,” Ahsoka said.

A look of deep hurt flitted past Rex’s face. “You’re ordering me away?”

“No!” Ahsoka said, getting to her feet. “That’s exactly the pro-” she cut herself off and sighed, taking a moment to collect herself. “Before, on the Venator. I made the decision for you.”

“No you didn’t. I all but asked you to take the chip out.”

“Maybe, but I put you in a position where you had to choose between me and your brothers and… it really wasn’t much of a choice.”

Rex huffed in frustration and threw his hands in the air. “Look, I don’t blame you-”

“Don’t you?”

The question lingered in the air between them, and Rex looked away. “No, I don’t,” he said. His voice was firm, but Ahsoka could see the doubt in his eyes.

And that was the crux of it. This awful tragedy hung between them, and would always be there unless they could find a way past it. If Rex was always stuck with her, always following her orders and watching her back, she knew their connection would remain poisoned by guilt and unbidden resentment. He needed to forge his own path, to find his independence. Then, maybe… Maybe many years in the future…

Ahsoka walked up to Rex and put a hand on his cheek, turning his head gently to face her. “I’m done issuing commands. Stay with me if you want. But I’m going to pay for a few more nights here, and I’m going to sleep here tonight, and I hope that when I wake tomorrow morning you’ll be gone.”

Rex met her eyes for a few seconds, then his gaze fell to the floor. Ahsoka held her breath as she waited for him to come to his conclusions. He swallowed a tense knot in his throat, then nodded, all uncertainty gradually draining away. 

Pain and relief flooded Ahsoka’s heart in equal measure, and she reached for Rex’s hand, daring more physical affection than she’d ever shown before. “Let’s go out to the market,” she said, giving his fingers a squeeze. “It’s a nice day.”

Rex squeezed her hand in return before letting go, and together they left the seedy hotel for the marketplace in the center of town. 

It truly was a nice day—the first pleasant, relaxed, uncomplicated day either of them had experienced in years. They ate a breakfast of hot caf and fried nuna eggs in a tiny cafe and watched the sun gradually bathe the dusty town in reddish light. They went to the open air plaza and dug through piles of the vendors’ wares until they found a newish, non-stained shirt for Rex. Rex picked out several blumfruits from the fruit stand, insisting that Bariss had once taught him a foolproof method for picking the ripest and sweetest, and as Ahsoka ate the red fruit she had to admit it was the tastiest she’d ever had. As night fell the daytime vendors closed up shop and other folks came out, some setting up games and other minor pieces of entertainment for the modest crowd. Ahsoka won Rex a small stuffed convor with a perfect game of ring toss, and though Rex complained that using the Force was cheating, he kept the plush. They ate dinner back at the hotel, whose food was actually somewhat passable despite the rundown building, then went to bed feeling restored.

Ahsoka pulled the covers up to her chin, her bones still steeped in the unfamiliar happiness of the day. She hadn’t felt this close to Rex since the crash, hadn’t enjoyed anything with Rex since then. She knew she’d made the right decision, as much as it would hurt to wake up alone the next day.

“‘Soka?” Rex’s voice carried through the darkness across the small room.

Ahsoka turned towards him, just barely making out the familiar angles of his face through the dim light. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Ahsoka’s lips turned into a smile even as her eyes filled with tears she refused to shed. “You’d do the same for me, Rex. There’s no need for thanks.”

“All the same…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“May the Force be with you, little’un.”

“May the Force be with you, Rex.”

---

The next day Ahsoka woke and looked across the room from her to find an empty bed. The dingy bed had been made to military precision, and Rex had left no other evidence behind. The tears Ahsoka had held back the night before would no longer cooperate, and she buried her face in her hands and cried.

She gave herself permission to cry for a good long while, and after an hour her tears were spent and her heart worn thin. Her sorrow had run out of her along with her tears, and all that was left was a stubborn, insistent sort of hope. Ahsoka closed her eyes and imagined Rex going to Kamino, somehow sneaking into the base and finding Wolffe. She imagined the two of them figuring out how to remove Wolffe’s chip, then going on a crusade to free more of their brothers. She imagined Rex becoming more and more the person he was meant to be, the person his servitude to the Republic held back. And at the end of it all, that foolish, optimistic hope imagined him returning home to her.

[anotherbeingsworld]

Nepenthe (Lennox X Bryce)

Pairing: Bryce x F!MC (Lennox Hirata - owned by @arcticlumineer )

Inspo: Stars by Alessia Cara.

Summary: A small getaway after the previous events, a small conversation under the night sky.

A/N: I was planning to post something and here it is, something I manage to write during this whirlwind. Life is a hard road, but... I am not giving up yet. I have felt like that before, and I know.. it’s been 2 days I couldn’t let myself go, tumblr felt like one place I could be myself with somehow? ; and I am very excited for this fic. One of my favourites to write actually. This fic was dedicated mostly to my Mario( @arcticlumineer ) and Lennox is her MC. Somehow, a continuation to her fic ‘Binary Stars’ that all of you should check it out too! She has been fighting and, she will keep on fighting. You deserve everything Alaska and so much more, and I hope you loved this as much as I loved writing it.  - Your Luigi. 💙

Thank you @mvalentine for assuring me that it is not a crappy one! I love you, and to all that reached out in the comments and messages, I appreciate all of you so so much! Thank you 💖💖💖 I will try to get some time on my own in a way, and maybe there is hope after all. I hope all of you enjoy it! It wasnt my best, but... it came from the heart and I hope you all love it. I will be back with more Bryce and Casey very soon!  <3

Tags:  @bitchloveskcbaseball , @storyofmychoices @jaxsmutsuo , @mvalentine , @princess-geek , @lahellacute , @kacie-0156-deactivated20200905 , @this-person-is-busy , @annekebbphotography , @brycelahel, @mrsbhandari , @dcbbw , @choicessa , @choices-confessions , @aylamwrites , @fantasyoverreality98 , @drakewalker04 , @baltersome , @ofpixelsandscribbles , @thundergom  @starrystarrytrouble, @ohramsey , @kelseaaa  , @rookie-ramsey , @bratzlahela , @ohvamsey , @choicesficwriterscreations , @soft-for-drake , @lalizah , @drethanramslay , @arcticlumineer , @choicesstan1 , @aveeiro

Nepenthe (noun) - Something that makes you forget pain and suffering. 

Knock on my door, boy come home

You stay in my head

Lay in my arms, why won't you?

It's been way too long, what you waiting on?

It was a long drive, as they finally reached the Grand Canyon, one of the wonders of the states. Bryce never agreed on a 3-day trip of driving from Boston to the infamous canyon. After a long 40 hours of driving, and stopping. Bryce and Lennox has arrived at the spot, where it was almost sundown.

Lennox was the one who suggested upon the idea, as she wanted a new experience including taking a long trip to Arizona, after the tragedy strikes. They were given a leave as, Bryce took a few measures along with infamous pick-up lines to convince Harper on taking a leave. It worked, and here they are.

‘We are here!’ A surprisingly enthusiastic Lennox get out of the car, as she took a breath of the fresh air. It smells very weird, but it’s definitely not Edenbrook. She loved Edenbrook, but she felt a new environment was needed. A new space for her to breath, as the sun was about to set in an hour.

‘Let’s get ourselves cozy, Hirata here take the food.’ An exhausted Bryce was heard, as Lennox marched into the back of the car taking the basket of food for the night. They didn’t packed much, except a few unhealthy ones, and some take-out from their journey which is enough to survive the night.

Bryce took care of the rest, as they hike their way up the canyon. It wasn’t the prettiest view at the time being, but he felt happy to take her out here. Away from the commotion of their work life, where it was only them against the real world. Including Keiki too.

After a long hour of hiking, they finally reached one of the many tops of the canyon. It was a perfect view of the whole lot, as Lennox placed the food, as Bryce gets the stuff ready. He lays out a large blanket, and Lennox sat on top of it as soon as she could. A small price of enthusiasm as he lets out a small chuckle, taking a seat next to her. It was quiet, as they were the only beings that were known there.

The sun has already set, as they ate their subway take-outs. It wasn’t the best after a long drive, but their tummies are full and that’s what matters. After a session of eating, Lennox found herself staring at the night sky. It was dark, as the source of light was from their phones and a couple of emergencies flashlight but, the moon above them were doing the work.

Bryce felt himself staring at her, a small gesture that he would do everytime. He adored her, from the very first time he saw her. She was strong, kind, empathetic despite the sass she owns. Lennox Hirata was her own woman, and Bryce found himself falling for her, despite their feelings haven’t returned. At least, not yet.

He realizes his feelings towards her, after the funeral. The fear of losing her, was seen within him as he lets his walls down for her. Something he had tried so hard on doing, a small sacrifice for the chance to reduce the pain little-by-little. Somehow, Lennox felt like his weakness, the fear of never seeing her again lingers in his mind, a broken record that was played over and over again.

The flashback from before, replayed once more as he remembered witnessing Lennox, in a weak state. She wasn’t the cheerful person he knows, as the light in her eyes had disappeared since that day. Followed by losing two of the closest people in her life in front of her eyes, an event that one will never forget.

‘…Earth to Bryce...’ Her voice was heard, looking worried at his state.

Bryce shook his head, as an attempt to bring his consciousness back into reality. A smile was plastered on his face, as the tears started to fall a bit.

‘What’s wrong?’ She never understand why, but every time she witness of Bryce being vulnerable. She felt her heart break a little, somehow seeing one of the most confident people in her life, willing to share this part of his life with her, a misfit in disguise? Lennox Hirata.

‘..That moment, its playing in my mind Len. I know you told me, you are okay. Look, you are. But-‘ He found himself pause.

‘I kept on imagining the worst, there were moments where I woke up thinking that you are not here anymore. You were taken away from me, and…it terrifies me.’ He took a deep breath, as he lets the truth out, something he had been experienced lately, as he found himself imagining the worst whilst encouragement from Keiki.

‘C’mon, its in the past Bryce…it’s okay’ Lennox tried to brushed the topic of, a saddened look on her face.

‘No, you could’ve died. It’s serious.’ He replies with a hint of hurt in his voice.

‘But, I am here now. I am here with you, and I’m not going anywhere alright?’ She closed the gap between them, and pulled him into a hug. She didn’t realize, she felt her tears were falling too. She remembered that night all too well, she almost died. The night where she knew her life had changed one way or another. Witnessing Bobby’s and Danny’s death, was a hard pill to swallow.

After the hug, they pulled away. She was never the one to show affection, but she always loved the little things. She was never a fan of public display of affection, but holding each other’s hands, cheek kisses, hugs, and many more were her way of affection. A small squeeze of a hand, the common gesture for them both.

She took his hand in hers, as his big ones covering her tiny one. They weren’t a perfect fit, but it felt right. Giving it a small squeeze, as crying wasn’t apart of the plan.

Silent tears was heard, as they both lie down on the blanket, somehow their faces were facing each other.

He never looked more beautiful.

She looks like an angel from above.

He brushed the hair was covering her eyes, as they continue to stare upon the night sky. The world was sleeping, as the surroundings was empty. It was them, and them only. The moon shines brightly above them, as the twinkling light of the stars were seen. A small callback to their planetarium date, the moment where she was discovering the feeling that was hovering in her mind on a certain figure named Bryce Lahela.

‘I fought and I survive, but… why do I feel like life is more than that?’

She glances his way, hoping for an answer. Both of them were silence, as neither know the answer.

‘..I remember the day I left Hawaii, left everything behind.. I feel like, I was helpless and I couldn’t survive on my own. It felt a long road, and…after all those obstacles… I am here where I was meant to be. Life is definitely more than surviving, its the feeling of not giving up and keep going despite how many bumps life give you one way or another.’

Bryce replies as both of them continue on gazing the stars,  it was shining brightly. It felt like, she was somewhere far far away from the real world upon stepping into space.

‘If it is meant to be? How do you know this isn’t a fatal coincidence?’

‘You do have a lot of questions don’t you Len?’ He smiles, finally after all the crying they have done.

‘Hey, I am a curious human being. It’s my nature after all.’ She winks, as her eyes gazed over the galaxy above them.

‘Well, curious human being. I am at your service, hit me with your best shot.’

She raised an eyebrow, earning a questionable look from him.

‘What?’

‘The question earlier dummy.’ Lennox lets out a laugh, as their laughter fills the void surrounding them.

‘Ahhh… where do I begin..’ He mimicking the scary professors from those crappy haunted movies, that made her cringe so bad.

‘Just cut to chase Lahela.’ Lennox demanded with a hint of laughter in her voice, earning herself a sensual wink from him.

‘Ok, okay. Hold your horses Hirata! I don’t feel like I have been paying attention much to how life works, but…I believe that everything has been written in the stars. Every step of this ride, have been written down in the stars and its our chance to see it unfold when the time has come..’

Lennox felt herself humming to a song that has been in her mind for the past week, Stars by Alessia Cara.

Piercing lights in the dark make the galaxy ours

Kingdom right where we are

Shining bright as a morning, you'll never be lonely

Just promise you'll love me, I'm never too far

And we'll never part

And we could be stars

Bryce was somehow stunned? As, her voice flowed through the night. She felt herself flushed, as she punched him lightly on the shoulder. A small act that ended up with laughter.

‘Tonight, it felt like the stars are looking down on us. Just, shining our lives in a way a light would do. It feels lonely out here on our own, but… looking above, the stars felt like a companion to us. I.. have always loved the stars. There was a moment… years ago, I was alone in my room. It was night time, and I was lucky enough to have a view on my bedroom window. It was spectacular, as the stars felt like something out of the painting, and I dreamed of touching it with my bare hands.’ She explained, with a smile on her face with her hands forward as an attempt to capture the stars which is impossible but, she didn’t care. It felt like she was a child once more, living this world with a huge dream ahead.

‘That sounds …amazing.’ His eyes linger on her for a while, somehow a small smile was formed of from adoration. I love her, he thought silently as his eyes soften at the sound of giggles coming out from her.

They continue on their small adventure, until it was dawn. An hour before, after exchanging stories, including those that made her laugh till her tummy hurts.

‘You know, we have known each other for two years now.’ She stated.

‘Yeah?’

Lennox nodded, somehow in disbelief at how far they have come from becoming strangers to falling in love silently with him which she didn’t feel like admitting too yet. 

‘It somehow felt like a lifetime ago…’

She said quietly, as Bryce nods in agreement taking her hand in his.

‘Yeah, but… we still have a whole life ahead of us right?’

He looked at her, with a hint of hope in his eyes. A new path was suddenly carved, a whole lot of adventures that will followed them. Lennox Hirata’s adventures at Edenbrook started a lifetime ago, as she fought for life, death, friendships, and even love. There were still pages in her book waiting to be written, as she said yes to a whole life ahead, a life where she will keep on fighting to be the person who she was meant to be with the present of those who she loved and cared deeply.

THE END.

 A/N: Hi, dropping by again. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, and know that.. hope is always there. I realized it and, I hope it’s always gonna be there. And, @arcticlumineer​ you are gonna fight this. I believe in you. <3 

[justasparkwritings]

The Word of Your Body: Holy {4}

Previous: You’re Gonna Be My Bruise

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

Genre: Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count:��2.1k

Warnings: Swearing, Pregnancy, Fatherhood, Questioning Religion 

Listening: Holy by Justin Bieber 

Master List

      Namjoon didn’t believe in God, or god, or Him. He didn’t believe in a higher being, a power that created and decided the fate of all peoples. There was no Buddha, Allah, Brahma or Vishnu. No shabbat or Holi or Ramadan. He didn’t believe in any of it. Army was King and Queen, Empress over his fate and his life. He didn’t feel anything around Easter or Christmas, there was no desire to bow his head and pray over a tragedy. He didn’t feel guilty for every sin committed, or anytime an “oh my god!” crossed his lips. He didn’t feel like there was anything moving his life forward except for BTS and you.

        When he had asked you to marry him, he felt an inkling of what prayer was. There was nothing he wanted more than to marry you, to create a family, to live his days intertwined with yours. He was positive you were going to say yes, but he found himself wishing and hoping for your answer amidst the ten seconds it took before you responded. He didn’t realize it was prayer, nor did he think his hope that you would say yes would be constituted as a form of worship. But on bended knee, in the few seconds before you answered, he offered it up.  

        Your resounding yes sounded like an alleluia on Easter morning, a sensation he had experienced with you a year prior. He didn’t understand it, but he felt it.

        “I don’t understand why you participate in it,” He said, drinking his coffee at your favorite local breakfast spot the day after his first Easter service. The two of you had come to your home to spend the holiday with your family, which meant showing him where you grew up and yes, bringing him to church.

        “Why?” You asked, sipping your coffee.

        “It, it doesn’t make sense, why would you believe in something that’s so, cynical?” He wondered.

        “The religion you’re speaking of and the religion I subscribe to are two different things,” You said.

        “How?”

        “Because the religion your speaking of is God as a vengeful, omniscient dictator, demanding sacrifices, demanding life, wanting fees and fines designed by man to prove your loyalty to capitalism, not to God. The God that I believe in, that I celebrate, is merciful. He fights for what is right and just, for equity, for love.”

        “Like Sailor Moon,” He smiled.

        “Without the talking cat,” You winked.

        He hadn’t understood what you meant until you’d given him a copy of your favorite book, which detailed the life of Jesus and his wife, Ana. It wove the notions of Jesus as savior with Jesus as man and expanded his understanding of what a savior could mean. It wasn’t that he suddenly believed in religion, or had faith, because he didn’t. Reading your favorite book had only made him fall more in love with you and made his understanding of religion murky at best. He did admit that he could see its place in your life and accept it for what it was.

        The second time Namjoon had prayed was when you took your last pregnancy test. Conceiving wasn’t easy, and he beat himself up every time a test came back negative. You tried to dissuade his fears, tell him that it took time, it wasn’t going to happen the first time you had unprotected sex. He knew he wanted kids; he knew he wanted kids with you. The inability to get you pregnant for two years, even with increased hormone treatments and meticulous care placed on both of your bodies, he felt like he was exhausting all options. Every choice he was making led to further disappointment when the test came back negative.

        Why couldn’t his body do the one thing it was designed to do? Was it the dancing in tight pants? Was it working out too much? Riding his bike too often? Why weren’t different positions, different times of day, number of orgasms leading to the creation of life that was half you, half him?

        He found himself scrolling through his phone, looking for any sort of solace when he came across a quote you had typed into his phone’s notes for when he felt nervous. You said it every time you had an interview or presentation, a Bible verse imprinted on you during adolescents. As he read the words, the idea of prayer came into his mind… he quickly looked up how to pray before closing his phone. Wasn’t the point that you didn’t need to have a formal way of asking God for help or guidance? Dejectedly, Namjoon bowed his head, closed his eyes and let the words flow out of him.

        Namjoon’s heart soared when you took your first positive test. It nearly erupted at your first sonogram. The thump-thump-thump of your child’s heartbeat had been like angels singing. You had created a life; you were going to have a child together. Maybe with his eyes and your nose, or your heart and his mind… Either way, he had heard a chorus echoing every time he saw your bump and felt your baby kick.

        He couldn’t reason with himself though, did he now owe God something because whomever it was had fulfilled his prayer? Would he have to baptize the baby, offer it up on an altar like Abraham or split it in two like Solomon? Was God holding a grudge against him now because he hadn’t exalted him fully?

        He had borne his soul to you shortly after your eighth month. His conscious was weighing heavy.

        “I need to tell you something,” He said, sitting next to you on the couch.

        “Okay,” You said, setting your phone face down on the coffee table. “What is it?”

        “I, I did something, and I don’t know what to do next,” He couldn’t tell if he was ashamed, nervous, or bashful. Would you laugh or be surprised or lovingly tell him it was okay?

        “What did you do?” You asked, cautiously.

        “I,” He sighed, “I prayed.” He glanced up at you through his lashes, gauging your response before proceeding.

        “Okay, and?”

        “What am I supposed to do now? Do I owe God something? Is our child a sacrifice?”

        “Well, what did you pray for?” You asked.

        “A baby.”

        “Namjoon, look at me,” You said lightly.

        “What?” He reluctantly lifted his gaze to lock with yours.

        “I did too,” You smiled.

        He felt the baptismal waters crash down on him.

        “You did? Oh, fuck. That, that makes me feel better. Do, do we have to do anything?” He reached for your hands as you laughed. Your baby kicking at the movement in your body.

        “We can say a prayer of thanksgiving, but that’s not really how God works.” You said.

        “I’ve read articles, and books, and the expectation that you offer something up to God in thanksgiving is everywhere. He grants a prayer and you give thanks. I’ve spent the past seven months trying to figure out what that thanksgiving is supposed to be.”

        “Namjoon, why is this bothering you? You don’t normally adhere to organized anything,” You said intertwining your fingers.

        He nodded his head before speaking. “I’ve never prayed about anything, but I needed solace, someone to listen. I was scared to tell you or the guys because I don’t believe in it, but I did it anyway.”

        “That’s what faith is. It’s throwing your hopes and fears up and believing someone will catch them. Be it fate, or karma… or God or Allah or Krishna… it’s hoping that something will move the chips in your favor, and knowing you’ll be okay if it doesn’t.” You answered, lightly squeezing his hand.

        “Do I owe anything?” He whispered.

        “No, that’s not how God works, at least in the evangelical sense. Just, be a great father, and an excellent husband, and your actions will show your thankfulness.” You said, moving his hand to rest on your belly, baby kicking excitedly as Namjoon’s hands held it gently.

        “That’s it?”

        “God doesn’t want for much, Namjoon.”

        He had spent the next six weeks studying books on organized religion, alternating between writing lyrics for BTS, unpacking the idea of GOD, and preparing for the baby. He read every parenting book, went to every class and watched birth video after birth video. He took to your body like the gentiles took to John the Baptist, following its every inkling, tending to it with care. He prepared baths and scheduled massages. He gingerly placed lotion on your growing belly, and proceeded to rub natural remedies on your cervix, anything to make your eventual labor smoother. He kneaded your growing breasts and never hesitated to help you tie your shoes. God had smote the Egyptians for worshipping their golden calf, and here Namjoon was, on his knees, singing exaltations to your growing form.

        The third and fourth time Namjoon prayed was when your water broke, and with it came an excessive amount of blood. You had rushed to the hospital and were diagnosed with late term placenta previa, a condition they should’ve caught earlier. Upon examination, you were rushed into a C-Section, and as he sat clutching your hand, tears streaming down your faces, Namjoon braced himself for the worst possible outcome. He prayed diligently, every second you were in surgery, every moment he wasn’t whispering to you or kissing your hair, he prayed.

God, Jesus, Allah, anyone… Please let my wife be safe. Please do not take her or our baby away from me. Please let us live our lives together. Please let them be okay, please, please, please.

      He offered up penance, a term he’d learned reading about the evolution of the Catholic church. He’d offered up his career, his bandmates, his money, his time. Anything he could trade to keep you and your baby.

      Namjoon had thought he’d heard a gospel chorus whenever he saw your bump or felt the baby kick. It wasn’t until his child took its first breath and let out a cry, that Namjoon realized the crescendo of expectation, fear, relief and hope raking through his brain was the angels, singing the Halleluiah Chorus, proclaiming the birth of the savior. He could see it, you Mary, the unassuming mother of the Christ child, him Joseph, a lowly craftsman, the doctors, the shepherds, guiding life into the world.

      As your tears turned to joy, Namjoon muttered to himself, “Unto you a child is given.”  

      It was past midnight when Namjoon finally had a minute to breathe. He held your new baby securely in his arms and glanced at your peacefully sleeping form. The past 48 hours had been a whirlwind. You were recovering from a C-Section and unable to lift or move much. On the one hand, you were relieved. You were emotionally exhausted from a traumatic labor, and physically exhausted from undergoing a major operation. Bed rest was welcomed as your body began to heal, from the nine months it had spent growing life, and as your hormones began to fall and rebalance. On the other, you wanted to spend every second staring at your child, guessing what they’d be like, wondering if their eyes were shaped like your husband’s or yours. Smelling their head for that new baby, fresh on the planet scent, and memorizing every feature.

      Namjoon was grateful, it gave him time to spend with your child, knees deep in fatherhood. He could carry your child everywhere, sing to it, love it, create a strong bond before he would eventually be pulled to tour. He was savoring every diaper, every midnight feed, every coo and cry. He couldn’t imagine life before your child was born, and he wanted to cherish every millisecond he had with you both.  

      He hummed to your baby quietly and again glanced at you, your milk had slowly started to come in and leak onto your shirt, or rather, a tour shirt of Namjoon’s that you’d kept every time he left home. He remembered the day you fought over him not having a t-shirt in your size and been pleasantly surprised when he had found this one in some drawer. Over the years it had become your comfort object. You kept it at his place indefinitely, and once you’d moved in together, had insisted he wear it before he went on tour to capture his musk. What had started as an argument over insecurities had blossomed into one of your favorite traditions.

[moonbeam27]

Good Sunday! This week has been incredibly difficult. It was my son's first real week of school learning virtually. Although his teacher is wonderful, she is not trained in teaching virtually. So he was behind in class and needed my help...while I am supposed to be working. So, my work production be was impacted by the number of breaks needed to assist him. 🙅

Those needed breaks weren't as big of a deal as was his frequent spiraling shutdowns. He would be asked to write 5 sentences and it would take him 45 minutes because he would argue, cry, and complain for about 32 minutes before starting. Somehow my little author has gotten it in his brain that he is not good at reading and writing. 🤦🤷.

All week, that has been a struggle. After one exceptionally difficult episode, I asked him if he knew his area of frustration and the first thing from his lips was the Coronavirus... Ugh!! Damn Coronavirus!!! He fears that he won't be able to play with his friends again and that list goes on and on.

So, I found a counselor for him and he had his first visit yesterday! ♥️ I had told him we would see if he felt comfortable with her and he could decide if he wanted me to be with him or not. He absolutely glowed on our way home. She is his first real grown-up friend separate from me and his Dad. She is a short grandmotherly woman who has her place decorated in a magical a mixture of Christmas and Fairyland. Almost as soon as we walked in, my sweet kid kicked me out!🙄😁

What I found interesting, is how my emotions bounced all over from knowing I am a good Mom to doubting my very existence. 😒

However, my personal problems pale to that of my neighbors/friends. (Both the Grandmother, Aunt, and Father live in my community. )My neighbor's son (Grandson) a 25 year old man who is an experienced hiker went up to see the sunset at Weaver's Needle on Wednesday and has still not returned. His uncle was with him in the car and had told him he would catch up to him, but never found him.

Search and Rescue has been looking for him since with almost no trace. Dogs catch his scent, but can't find the source. As can be imagined, this family is under such emotional strain. How can we help? Especially with my feet, hiking is out of the question and they have the area blocked off to allow for the search. You can't really do much.

After wracking our brains, my mom and I went to visit the Grandparents with cheese and crackers. I think in such times as these, people need prayers, space, and someone to listen. I'm so glad we went to visit briefly. They were able to share their hope and grief with us. As well as their story of community that in this searing Arizona summer, teams of people, with dogs, and on horseback have been combing through every cranny of the desert in search of their loved one for days!!! Seeing people out there looking has been such a comfort to them as they feel so helpless.

I left our visit with a new resolve to cherish those in my life, because one never knows when they won't be physically present anymore. ♥️

And after that visit Saturday, I had my first "new date" since February 2019. A co-worker asked me out earlier in the week.

I was quite anxious about going on a date for a number of reasons. 1. COVID. 2. Emotions. 3. Expectations. He had asked me to dinner and wanted to pay. For me, I don't like having my date pay for me initially because I don't want there to be an expectation of "I bought you dinner, so now you have to do XYZ.." This gentleman lost his wife a few months ago after a long illness. And probably because of COVID, I am his first date. Luckily, my neighbor pointed that out, because I had forgotten. I can imagine that after losing your spouse if 40+ years, going out with someone else is extra scary!!

Because of the tragedy and I had to work overtime, I was exhausted, but didn't want to cancel on him, so we pushed back the time a bit. He was gracious and understanding. We ended up visiting at my house because everything closes early now due to COVID. And that allowed me to make cookies and work on art projects while we talked the night away. So, you can see what a crazy week it has been!!

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 8

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

Before he was cursed with the sinking ship of his father’s company, Adrien loved to sleep in on the weekends. Now, he was lucky to get even half of what he’d usually slept, considering that in addition to his work at Gabriel, it was also the end of the spring semester at his school and the workload was overwhelming. Just a little longer, though, and he’d be free to focus on his ‘help Marinette and finally atone for your sins’ mission full-time. Adrien could hardly wait, which was a little weird considering how much stuff he’d have to learn and do to make that happen.

“What are you grinning about?” Plagg yawned, floating out of his bed-bucket.

Adrien stretched. “Nothing in particular. Just that things are finally starting to look brighter.”

“Lying to your girlfriend to get food out of her is bright?” Plagg scoffed, flying away to the kitchen.

“I haven’t told a single lie, and she isn’t my girlfriend.”

“You kissed her, and you liked it.”

“Can you let it go, Plagg?  We’ve talked about this. It wasn’t—”

“Man, she’s going to hate you even more when she finds out who exactly was kissing her.”

Adrien glared at the pesky creature. “That’s why we aren’t telling her, Plagg.”

“She’ll find out eventually,” the kwami shrugged, stuffing his mouth with his morning dose of Camembert. “Better get ready for it instead of denying the obvious.”

With a growl, Adrien flopped back into his sheets. Pushing Plagg’s words aside, he closed his eyes, trying to focus on his schedule for today. First work, then lunch with Nino, and then… more work. He couldn’t afford to have his weekends off anymore.

“Oh, I know,” Plagg mumbled, finishing his wheel of cheese. “Your high school crush on Princess is coming back. That’s why you’re making dumb decisions—"

“I did not have a crush on Marinette,” Adrien said, sitting up. “I’ve always loved Ladybug.”

“Sure,” Plagg smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“That’s the truth.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Plagg countered, his arms on his hips. “You could afford all the croissants in the world, yet you kept abusing your powers and going to her balcony for treats.”

“That’s because her pastries were amazing, and Marinette was a great company. But that doesn’t mean I had a crush on her.”

“Sure. That’s why you tried to spend as much time as possible with her. And not as Chat only, but as Adrien as well. Ugh! All those blushes and cutesy stuff.” Plagg shivered. “Disgusting.”

“It wasn’t like that, Plagg. We were just friends.”

“And don’t get me started on this whole ‘helping her’ business,” the kwami continued to grumble. “I told you it was insane even then, didn’t I? But no! You had to risk everything for her. Look where it got you. And how did she thank you? She took your heart and trampled it under her feet.”

Adrien fell silent.

“That’s why you didn’t try hard enough to reach out after they cut you off. It wasn’t only your pride that got bruised. Your heart got broken as well.”

“You can think whatever you want,” Adrien mumbled quietly, getting out of bed. “But having a close friend doesn’t mean I have a crush on her. My heart has always belonged to Ladybug.”

Plagg groaned in exasperation and flew off. Adrien went about his morning routine, pushing aside Plagg’s ridiculous claims and letting his thoughts race back to Nino. The prospect of meeting with his former best friend left him confused at best. Thrilled? Not exactly. More like nervous? Anxious? But nevertheless, kind of glad because the rejection and the refusal to let him at least explain himself still stung. Adrien spent years being bitter and resentful about that and had a lot to say. And today he was going to say everything because he didn’t really care about the way this meeting would go. He wasn’t looking to renew the friendship. An explanation, closure and the strength to move on: that was all Adrien wanted.

The day went by tortuously slowly. Hiring a new assistant for Marinette was Adrien’s top priority, but it was proving to be rather difficult. She needed someone highly experienced at this point and not a lot of qualified people wanted to work with a seemingly doomed company Gabriel had become. Scratch “a lot”. “None” would fit better. And to change that would require a ton of work, the size of Adrien was only now starting to realize. He did his best, but even he had his limits and needed breaks to stay sane. That was why, as soon as the clock struck a quarter to noon, Adrien zoomed out of his office and almost sprinted to a nearby café. Five minutes early, he wasn’t surprised to see Nino already there. His former best friend was always one to be on time.

Adrien halted his steps. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. He should have refused. Surely, he can help Marinette without Nino. No need to rip the old wounds open and let them bleed unnecessarily.

Before he could change his mind though, Nino stood up, looking his way. Awkwardly, the pair watched each other for a few moments from a distance until Nino motioned Adrien to sit at his table.

“Do you want small talk, or we could just—”

“Let’s skip it,” Adrien shrugged, settling in the chair.

“Straight to the issue?”

“Why not?”

“I’m all for it.”

“Me too.”

“Would you like to order?” a waiter interrupted.

Both men nodded in unison and took their time placing orders. After the waiter left, no one rushed to break the silence.

“So,” Nino finally gave in. “If we aren’t holding back and telling as it is… I still think you acted like a jerk, but I do owe you an apology because your intuition was right. Working with your father did ruin Marinette’s life. And that…” Nino inhaled deeply, “might actually be an understatement.”

Adrien sighed. “I saw tragedies happen too many times to do nothing. People had nervous breakdowns over a stupid deadline that was set a few days earlier than the actual one anyway. Or over an outfit that was added to the collection at the last minute and the fabric had to be personally flown in from Tibet. Many were doing the work of two or three on a tight schedule because their assistants couldn’t take it anymore and quit. So, just thinking that one of my closest friends could end up in that place… I couldn’t let that happen to her.” Adrien paused, his eyes focusing on the napkin he fidgeted with. “I only tried to protect her from that hell. Nothing else.”

“I can see now why you wanted her away from Gabriel, but you could’ve gone about it a different way, one that didn’t involve sneaking behind her back.”

Adrien nodded. “That’s on me. I should’ve done it differently. But you should've let me explain instead of cutting me off without warning.”

“What are you talking about?” Nino quirked an eyebrow. “You were the one who didn't want anything to do with us.”

“If by me trying to reach you for weeks, begging to let me explain and apologize is what you consider—”

“Let me stop you right there,” Nino interrupted, raising his hand. “What weeks are we talking about here? You sent us a single message in the chatroom that same day before quitting it, and in it, you spelled quite clearly that you had neither desire nor time for such ‘crappy friends’ as us anymore because apparently we neither did nor could understand and support you. Why do you think I never contacted you in all those years? Yes, I was angry with you, but all I needed was time to chill down and think. I would’ve reached out for that explanation eventually. You were my best bud, Adrien. I would’ve never just cut you off like I did unless you wanted that. Unless you asked me to do that, ‘lest I accidentally stumble upon an unwelcome reminder’ if I didn’t block you on all platforms.”

Adrien stared at Nino in confusion. “What are you talking about? I never sent any of you anything like that. I never quit the chatroom. You kicked me out. The three of you were my best friends, and you know how few of those I had. Why on Earth would I ask you to cut me off?”

“Your food, gentlemen.” The waiter placed plates before the men, giving Nino time to reach for his cell phone, open it on a particular screen and pass it to Adrien.

“Take a read for yourself. I’m sure you remember this. No one but the four of us had access to this chatroom, and the message is clearly sent from your account, following the notification that you left the chat.”

Adrien froze, his eyebrows slowly knitting into a frown as he read the words on the screen. Once done, he blankly stared at the device for a few moments before leaning back into his seat. “I didn’t write this. I didn't leave on my own. There has to have been a mistake.”

“Like what? Someone hacked you?”

“I can’t really say,” Adrien frowned. “From my end, I was just kicked out of the chat and blocked everywhere that same evening. Though, I hadn't discovered it until a bit later since I thought giving you time to calm down was a good idea.”

“So you knew we blocked you and still claim you were trying to reach out?”

“I hoped that at least one of you would unblock me eventually and I’d be able to explain.”

Nino huffed. “Why didn't you just seek us out in person?”

“I was busy moving out and working, and Chloe said if you didn't want to talk to me online, you wouldn't want to see me in person.”

Nino raised an eyebrow. “Chloe?”

Adrien shrugged, looking away. “No one else was around to give me advice, and it’s not like she sounded unreasonable.”

They fell in silence for a moment. Nino picked up his fork and started to eat, Adrien following his suit. A few minutes later, Nino asked, “Ever left your phone around her unattended?”

His thoughts rushing back to the past, Adrien nodded. “Never had a reason not to trust her that much.”

“Does she, by any chance, know your password?”

Adrien shrugged. “I never personally gave it to her, but it's not like I hid it either.”

Nino waited until he finished chewing his next bite to comment. “We both know Chloe is capable of sending those messages and quitting the chat on your behalf. She never liked us being friends, and it was awfully out of character of you.”

“That’s a valid possibility.”

Nino focused on his meal for a few more moments before asking, “ You swear you didn’t send those?”

Adrien leaned backwards in his seat. “On my mother’s name.”

Sighing heavily, Nino closed his eyes. “This is so messed up. This whole situation is just… so messed up. And what do we do now?”

"I don’t know," Adrien murmured, looking to the side.

“I guess I owe you another apology.” Nino cleared his throat. “I won’t apologize for getting angry at you. For the way you went about the whole Marinette thing, you deserved it. However, I am sorry for believing you could have sent that message and cutting you off without giving you a chance to defend yourself. I should’ve known you better than that.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien replied. “I do admit I could’ve used a better way to protect Marinette, and I guess I should’ve tried harder to reach out too, instead of assuming you abandoned me at the first opportunity. I’m sorry as well.”

“I appreciate it.” Nino shifted in his chair, picking up his coffee mug. “So, what next?”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t know? Maybe, let’s start with why you contacted me all of the sudden after all those years? I assume you need info on Marinette?”

“I did, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Nino shrugged. “Alya’s finally gotten through to her, and they’re having lunch as we speak.”

“So technically we didn’t have to meet?”

“Technically no. But since you already agreed to come, I wanted…” he paused to muse for a second before giving Adrien a shy smile. “Actually, I'm not sure what I wanted, but I was curious to see you again.”

“I hope your curiosity was satisfied?”

“My curiosity is wondering why you look so exhausted on Saturday afternoon?”

“Got a little more than I can handle on my plate at the moment.”

Nino hesitated but still asked, “Need some help?”

“I wish you could help me,” Adrien chuckled. “Thank you, but unless you know how to run a fashion empire, I don't think that's a viable option.”

“I am a quick learner. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Adrien swallowed. He hadn't been looking for a renewal of their friendship when he was coming here, but… Sitting here, talking to Nino again after all these years, seeing how little he had changed, how caring and understanding and just cool Nino still was… Adrien wondered. “I can always use a friend. I still don’t have many of those… If you want to of course.”

Nino smiled. “Even after everything?”

“I don't think I ever got over you,” Adrien dramatically sighed.

Nino chuckled. “You’re too kind for this world, Adrien. I hope you know that.”

“I did have a friend who used to tell me that all the time. Without him in my life, I haven't heard this in years.”

“I can fill his shoes again if you’re really sure about this.”

“I’m not delusional to think this would be easy. Rebuilding something is bound to have its own issues, especially in our situation.”

“But we can always try.”

“We can.”

Nino stretched his hand to Adrien. “I missed you, bro.”

A smile on his face, Adrien accepted the handshake. “I miss you too, Nino.”

***

With his unexpectedly successful lunch the previous day on his mind, Adrien wanted nothing less than to spend his Sunday visiting the mansion. He’d stalled as much as he could, shopping for groceries, doing his laundry, and even visiting work for half a day. Once the evening drew near, though, he couldn’t excuse himself anymore. An hour’s walk along the Seine helped Adrien come to grips with what he had to do, and soon, he was standing in front of the house he once called home.

“If you don’t want to do it, don’t do it,” Plagg grumbled from his collar.

“I promised Marinette. I have to.”

“Then do it and stop whining.”

Adrien groaned. “You aren’t any help, Plagg.”

“Being helpful isn’t in my job description,” Plagg muttered and relocated to Adrien’s bag. “Wake me up when you’re done standing around, pointlessly staring at the front door.”

Adrien’s shoulders slumped as he sighed dejectedly. Fishing the key out of his pocket, he forced himself to open the door before he could change his mind.

He hadn’t visited ever since he moved out. When his father was alive, it was out of the question. They never reconciled. And after Gabriel's death, his lawyer handled all the necessary procedures without the younger Agreste having to take a single step inside the mansion. It would be put up for sale soon, but for now, Gabriel's possessions were still untouched in the places he’d left them.

Adrien quickly walked through the empty, cold hallway to his father’s office. It hadn’t changed at all: minimalist furnishing, clean design, barren of any comfort and warmth. He paused at his mother’s portrait, making a note to claim it for himself. It was a beautiful piece. His sight shifted to his father’s desk. A few folders and a couple of random things lying atop it. A dead plant in the corner right behind.

Adrien sat in his father’s chair and looked through the folders. None of them were what Marinette needed. He reached for a drawer in the table. Inside were more folders and a slim white box. Pushing the box out of the way, Adrien took the folders out. To his relief, three of those were exactly what he came here for.

“Perfect.” Adrien exhaled and tried to shove the remaining folders back into the drawer. Something was obstructing them. He reached in and pulled the white box out. It was nothing unique, really. A regular box his Father used for his jewelry collection… Yet, even after the files were back in their place, Adrien couldn’t take his eyes off it. Something about the box was just so enigmatic. Something drew him in. Something he couldn’t explain.

He carefully took the lid off.

A bright electric orb exploded in front of him, and a little purple kwami with wings emerged. At first, its eyes were lowered to the floor, but once the creature looked up they widened, mouth falling open.

“Ma-Master?”

“Nooroo! Old pal!” Plagg zoomed out from Adrien’s bag and crushed the little guy in his embrace. “So that’s where you were hiding all this time?”

“Plagg?” Nooroo squeaked.

“Nooroo?” Adrien echoed.

“Yup, my old pal, Nooroo,” Plagg punched the purple kwami’s shoulder. “Hawkmoth’s kwami.”

Adrien sharply inhaled.

Nooroo looked at him and quietly asked, “Where is my Master?”

Adrien could hardly breathe. “What’s the name of your Master?”

"We can't say the names of our wielders to others,” Plagg answered instead. “Some magic stuff I don’t really care about.”

“Can you point to his picture?” Adrien whispered, staring at Nooroo in shock, dreading to hear the answer he suspected he already knew.

Nooroo nodded and stretched his tiny hand in the direction of their family portrait. “The older man,” the kwami said quietly as the world shuddered beneath Adrien’s feet.

Next >

[xsecretblastsx]

1x07 - Victor, Victrola

Finally! This is one of the most iconic episodes of this show and one I’ve been dying to get to since I’ve started with these recaps, Here we go! 

This one got so long I’ve decided to post it with a keep reading brake. 

Thoughts I had while watching the episode:

I love that it opens with a vintage filter, which I don’t think I’ve noticed much the first time. I do remember thinking of this little preview “Guess Chuck’s meeting someone who’ll give him a run for his money”

Also how good is that shot of the those hills climbing up the steps, or maybe is just that I love the shoes

These is one of my all time fave Blair’s school outfits, she looks so pretty, and I love the obnoxiously big red bow.

Things I should have wondered, wasn’t this something Chuck would have show Nate before her? But this scene is a quick way to show that they’re in fact really good friends

“What happens at Victrola stays at Victrola” Not really Chuck, not really

God I hate Nate’s Dad

I don’t know why but I found a bit funny how the Captain’s office has so many little nautical details, kind of oversell

“I think I saw it next to that ambiguous vague shape” hi mom!

Dan lamenting that new Yorkers don’t have cars and therefore teens can’t make out in them, yeah Dan about that…

Nate’s attempt at bribing Jenny it’s so lame it’s almost funny

Chuck casually pointing out to Lilly that she missed a button, oh Lily!

It’s almost endearing to see Chuck put so much effort with his dad and how eager and accommodating he gets when his father says yes.

I love the scenes were Serena and Blair have typical best friends conversations.

OMG I had totally forgot that Dan was reading the Kamasutra in search of inspiration, also getting this anxious and picturing all these scenarios in his head. I feel you dude.

Does that cherry stem trick is actually possible? Ugh why am I even thinking about that.  Though didn’t the show used that bit on a poster?

That dress does looks ugly in a hanger

That was a good analogy of Vanessa’s role in this show.

Lily was so nice to Chuck from the start, as early as this episode, theirs is one of my favorite parental relationship in the show

How does Vanessa knows all about Serena’s hook up history though? Didn’t she went on Gossip Girl or Dan has a big mouth? Well I guess is the same thing.

“Game recognizes Game little J” Oh Blair you have no idea, also no, the Vanderbilt is ring is not the most amazing ring you’ll ever see.

Gotta admire the show’s attention to detail, Serena and Nate may be making out on Dan’s kitchen, but they still use the same background music they used the first time we saw that scene, but relly I had forgot how much fun I laugh with all his imagined scenarios.

For once I actually feel bad for Dan, having your own father tell you to get rid of those sheets. Akward.

Aside from Nate’s dad, and maybe Eleanor everyone else at that dinner really looks like they want to be anywhere else but there.

“I tried Blair” oh please Nate, you call her once, it went to voice mall and you couldn’t bother again, but I guess it was just easier to go to the palace to talk to Serena.

I remember the first time I watched this I was like “Yes Blarir finally! You tell him!

It should have been obvious since earlier in the episode, but when she steps out of that car it was the first moment it hit me that OMG the girl at the start of the episode was Blair! It is funny how while I already knew that now, the same thought kind of hit me again.

YOU GO BABY VAMP!

‘You still would do anything to get a girl on her back though’ it would not be S1 episode without a bit of Lily and Rufus banter

“Nobody’s ever looked at me the way you just did” what a telling line. Though did Dan and Serena did it or not?

Iconic scene is iconic.  Vintage filter and all.

Gossip Girl was never the same again

What a good episode in every way. Normally I always get bored with one of the little subplots, but not on this one. Hell I actually liked Dan and Serena this week, which hadn’t happened like since 1x01, and even then it was with a grain of salt. This episode is also hilarious, I didn’t watch this when it aired so I don’t know if they hinted at Blair and Chuck in one of their promos, but I hoped they didn’t because I like the way the episode flows a lot, we spend the whole episode seeing Dan getting anxious about losing his virginity, and then out of nowhere it’s Blair the one that ends up the night no longer a virgin.

Also I did enjoy this episode so much more this time around not only because well I’m a chair fan but because there are a lot of little details, almost like Easter eggs that point out to the last scene, like Dan pointing out the tragedy of New York’s teens without car where they can make out, or when Serena tells Blair that maybe planning and thinking too much about it may ruin the moments, and then you have Blair at the end of the episode losing her virginity on Limo without planning it at all.

In the Dan and Serena front though this episode is one that gives a bit more insight on the why’s Serena can’t never really forget a about Dan. She had being treated awfully by most guys she ever came across, and Dan��s the first that actually treats her like she’s worth it and worries about her feelings, we know it’s not as perfect as she sees it, he had been pretty judgmental of her in half of the episodes so far, but she doesn’t realize it because she’s used to man objectifying her for a long time now, she doesn’t see her own value, and that’s the tragedy of Serena’s character and why she deserved so much better.

This episode is also the one in which Nate’s family issues get to a boiling point, we finally see the amount of problems Nate’s dad has and why he’s absolute trash, and things are only about to get even worse. Really this episode almost everyone in the parental front is keeping a secret or being in denial, trying to keep the status quo in their lives, in contrast most of the teens are at the verge of really taking a step into action, Nate finally does something to put a stop to his dad lies by getting him arrested, Serena is experiencing a loving relationship for the first time, Dan gets ready to leave his virgin status behind, Chuck is taking his first steps in the business goals and Blair is finally ready to accept that his relationship with Nate must end. In the end though, of course Chuck and Blair went through something else this week.

Honestly, what can I say about Chuck and Blair in this episode that hasn’t been said before. This is the start of one the most iconic couples in T.V. I mean if they were real people this was the night that changed the course of their lives forever, it’s a monumental moment for so many reasons. There’s Blair who up until now, has never contemplated a future that doesn’t includes Nate, but as each previous episode showed holding up to that future gets harder and harder, no matter what she does, he seems farther and farther away from her reach, she tries being sexy,  ruining Serena, elaborate games  and none of it goes, by the time the family dinner comes to be, she’s exhausted, she’s all prim and proper, Vanderbilt ring in her hand and she’s never looked more miserable. And so she lets go of Nate, and goes to the one place she can escape from it ill, it’s a very obvious visual image but still I love the moment the dress came off is the moment one can tell she’s finally free from it all, basking in that relief she said she felt.

So she dances, and she does it for Chuck Bass. It may have happened because of a dare but really it’s almost logical that she let’s all her uptightness on the floor in his company because if one goes back and looks to the previous six episodes she’s at her realest with him, since the first episode he doesn’t sugar coats her thoughts with him, doesn’t pretend to be nicer, makes him a part of her plots and he knows about all her issues with Nate, their friendship is a lowkey constant in the background, and this episode starts with a reminder of that fact, he takes her to Victrola because he trust her judgment above all others, his second toughest critic, only behind his dad. Their friendship is one factor about them that I feel got lost as the season go by, but it’s one of my favorite aspects about them, because that was the very first layer of their relationship.

They probably never thought about their friendship being something especial, about the fact that they shared bits of each other in a way they didn’t do with Nate and Serena, they always had chemistry and in some deep part of their brain they probably knew it all along, but it was much better to ignore it because what was the point, but is funny how as soon as Nate is out of the picture and it’s just them without inhibitions, this happens.

It’s not hard to imagine that Chuck had always thought she was “10 times hotter than pretty much anyone” This is Chuck Bass after all, and he also admired her personality, it wouldn’t surprise me if he thought that Nate was probably the worst match for a girl like Blair, and yet the way he looks at her while she’s dancing, he’s in complete awe of her, he already had her in high regards, but he had no idea that when she lets herself be free she’s the most mesmerazing thing he has seen, and oh how he wants her, it’s written all over his face when he says how amazing she was up there, and Blair who’s used to be unwanted by Nate can’t help but be drawn to it and so she kisses him, and he knows he could go for it and she most likely won’t reject him, still he asks her if she’s sure because he knows that while sex is not a big deal for him, the first time was important to her and how she only tried to rush into it until she felt she was losing, he had first row seats to all the drama that was her relationship with Nate, and so with that little question he lets her know that there’s no pressure, and also a first clear nod to how she’s different for him, he may be all for encouraging a girl to sleep with him, but not this time, and she knows it and she takes the leap, she’s doing this for her, because she wants to, not forcing it as she always had to.

  Iconic scene is iconic.  

Random bits:

I can’t remember if it was mentioned before but Chuck’s line “he was born poor; I was born loaded” is the first mention of the fact that the Basses are new money.

Without you ends up being a really accurate song for their whole relationship.: 

I don't want this moment to ever end Where everything's nothing without you I'll wait here forever just to, to see you smile 'Cause it's true: I am nothing without youThrough it all, I made my mistakes I stumble and fall, but I mean these wordsI want you to know: with everything, I won't let this go These words are my heart and soul I'll hold on to this moment, you know 'Cause I'd bleed my heart out to show that I won't let go 

[rutilation]

Listen, they’re not evil. They just lack empathy, and go into a dissociative state and commit atrocities.

As much as it pains me to do so, I’m going to start off by talking about the bastard himself.  I must say, believing that rage and misery is the inevitable endpoint of a person’s life is an awfully convenient belief for Aechmea to hold when his plan would end all sentient life as collateral damage. If all your victims are better off dead anyway, then your actions don’t warrant any guilt!

There’s a little moment in chapter 67 that has always stuck out to me as being representative of Aechmea’s character, and I think it’s especially relevant to this chapter. It’s the part in which Cairngorm is trying to argue that it’s in Aechmea’s best interest to keep Phos as mentally stable as possible since they’re his staunchest ally amongst the gems. My reaction upon reading that line was that their appraisal of Aechmea’s intentions was very naïve.  To the contrary, the more unstable Phos becomes, the easier it is for Aechmea to manipulate them.  At this point in the narrative, Phos is no longer carefully treading through negotiations with Aechmea, as they were in volume eight and the beginning of volume nine; they’re now doing exactly what he wants, with gusto, and no thought to the long term consequences.  This is entirely deliberate on Aechmea’s part, and indeed, in the very same chapter that Cairngorm brought this up, Aechmea pulled the same trick on them.  He made Cairn feel cornered and desperate, presented himself as the sole solution to their problem, and thus Cairn went from being deeply suspicious of Aechmea to…still being deeply suspicious of Aechmea, tbh, but burying it under an ironclad sense of denial.  This chapter even contains a callback to chapter 67:  Both here and there, Phos/Cairn is broken and despondent, Aechmea is looming over them, and they reach out to weakly cling to his hand.

He asks Barbata to “handle” Phos’s memories of the past two hundred years.  That’s an ambiguous line if I’ve ever heard one.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but Phos shouldn’t have memories of the past two hundred years, right?  I’m not sure if this is implying that he wants Barbata to implant false memories within Phos of the past two hundred twenty years, or—heaven forbid—if he’s implying that Phos actually has memories of the timeskip, and that he wants Barbata to make sure Phos doesn’t lose any of them.  If it’s the latter, that would suggest that Phos has, somehow, been conscious this whole time (holy shit,) and that Aechmea doesn’t want Phos to be able to move past those memories.  Regardless of what he’s referring to though, the sentiment behind his cryptic order is clear: now that he’s molded Phos into something he can easily control, he’s taking pains to ensure that they’re stuck in their current incarnation, so that they don’t evolve ever again.  It brings to my mind this scene in chapter 54, in which Aechmea all but fetishizes Phos’s capacity for change.  It was already pretty creepy, but knowing that this is what he intended for Phos to change into adds another layer of wrongness to that exchange.

It’s interesting that just a couple chapters ago, Phos was screaming at Kongou “If only you weren’t here!”   But here, the sentiment has completely inverted, and Phos is weeping as they say that Kongou is the only one who still cares for them, and that it’s the gems who shouldn’t be here.  In only a few short hours, they’ve gone from directing all their hatred at Kongou, to directing it at everyone except him.  Their rage is unformed and all over the place.  Good thing Aechmea’s here to refine it to his own ends!

Aechmea says that he’ll answer Cairngorm’s question “when this is all over.”  That could imply a couple of different things, depending on what he means by that.  If he means he’ll tell Cairn after he’s finished dealing with Phos for this chapter, then that’s one thing.  But, if by ‘all over’ he means that he’s not going to say anything until Kongou successfully prays, and his victory is assured--as with the previous secret he was keeping from Cairngorm, then that implies that whatever he was alluding to when he said he had loved Cairngorm since before they came to the moon, it’s probably something awful.

If you’ve been following my essays for a while, you’ll know that I’ve long suspected that some sort of Cairn-related plot twist will rear its ugly head at some point in the near future, and that mind-control eyeballs were perhaps only the tip of the iceberg.  Well, after nearly a year of deliberation, I’ve settled on my personal theory of what this plot twist could be, but it’s far outside the scope of an essay focused on a single chapter, so I’m going to post my thoughts on that in another essay sometime in the coming weeks.  Keep an eye out for it if you want to see me go fully and embarrassingly tinfoil hat.  (With my luck, chapter 83 is going to reveal what Aechmea meant by his cryptic statement before I get that essay done, and it’s going to be something banal, thus ruining my precious conspiracy theory.)

But enough about cornmeal and acne man, let’s talk about the trajectory Phos seems to be on, and also about Cinnabar.

For quite a while now, it’s been a pretty popular theory that Cinnabar will eventually kill Phos with their mercury, and it does feel like things could head in that direction.  Phos is so far gone that they’re willing to kill anyone in their path, and in so much pain that their death could be construed as a mercy.  And since they can best Bort in a fight, it would seem that Cinnabar’s mercury is the only thing that could actually stop them, especially since it could chemically bind to their alloy and poison Phos from the inside out.  To be perfectly honest though, something about this potential course of events has always rubbed me the wrong way, but until this chapter, I hadn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what it was I didn’t like.  

The whole story was started because Phos thought Cinnabar deserved better than their miserable lot in life.  At no point did Phos, or the narrative for that matter, ever suggest that it would be for the best if Cinnabar were simply put out of their misery.  Their plight warranted not just a release from pain, but a better life to replace it.  And as they are now, Cinnabar probably doesn’t want to die anymore, and I imagine they’re glad they didn’t go through with their passive attempt at suicide.  (Come to think of it, I think they’re the sole character who’s moved away from being suicidally depressed over the course of the story, instead of gradually succumbing to it.)  So, now that the shoe is thoroughly on the other foot, and Phos is the one at rock bottom, it would leave a really bad taste in my mouth if Cinnabar’s response to Phos’s pain ends up being: “Yeah, you should die.”  

So, although the plot is probably going maneuver Cinnabar into a situation in which they have to decide whether or not to kill Phos, I hope that it’s ultimately in service of that not coming to pass.  

Speaking of Cinnabar, I really hope we finally get more insight into them in these coming chapters. Broadly speaking, more stuff has happened with them the past twenty or so chapters than most of the rest of the series.  Their whole life was upended, they (seemingly) made a friend in Bort, and they’re finally making choices that affect the plot, which hasn’t really happened since volume two.  But, despite all this, we don’t really know what they’re actually thinking, of what emotions they’ve been going through.  You can make some inferences, but that’s not really as affecting as experiencing their perspective firsthand, and I think that’s why people get the impression that they’ve been made irrelevant to the story, despite the fact that they’ve been contributing to the plot lately.  So, hopefully we’ll finally get some further elaboration on them in the near future; I think it would remedy the issue quite a bit.

I’ve been thinking lately that what Cinnabar did to Phos in this arc is kind of a grim mirror of how Phos’s desire to help Cinnabar became muddied over the course of the story.  I don’t believe that Cinnabar was acting out of malice in chapter 78 when they suggested burying Phos in pieces.  If they genuinely wanted Phos dead, they could have encouraged the earth gems to go along with Rutile’s murderous impulses, instead of coming up with a plan in which Phos might come back eventually—certainly no one else in that scene, sans Euclase, voiced any objection to Rutile’s idea, and if Cinnabar hadn’t spoken up, they all might have gone along with it.  I think it’s quite possible that they were attempting to protect Phos by trying to appease the other gems’ enmity in a way that wouldn’t bring Phos permanent harm.  

But, just like how Phos’s ever-shifting goalposts pushed Cinnabar to the back of their mind over the course of the story, it’s possible that their new life among the gems had the same effect on Cinnabar.  Thus, in their mind, Phos was relegated to an important but altogether distant obligation that they’d deal with later, when the time was right.  But since these are gems we’re talking about, the time is never right, and complicated problems like these never get dealt with.  And just like how it was cruel and thoughtless when Phos put Cinnabar on the backburner, it’s cruel here too—especially if, as I speculated earlier, Phos was somehow awake this whole time.

Because I am a sentimental sap who still has a little bit of hope for a bittersweet ending instead of a complete tragedy, I think that Cinnabar might actually be a wild card in this situation, one who has the potential to save Phos from themselves.  (I’m sorry.  I can’t help myself.  My mind is stuck in power-of-friendship mode, and it’ll probably stay there until Ichikawa beats the idealism out of me, just like she beat it out of Phos.)  Keeping in mind what things Aechmea has been able to deduce either through direct observation through Phos’s eye, or what might have been reported to him from any Lunarians returning from an attack on earth, he doesn’t have enough information to figure out that Phos had a strong connection to Cinnabar.  Although he’s confident now that Phos has no ties to anything they once loved, and is wholly dependent on him, the previous chapter shows that Cinnabar still means something to Phos, even in this state.  Since all of this exists in a blind spot for Aechmea, I think it has the potential to muck up his plans—if Ichikawa deigns it to be so, of course.

Now let’s talk about symbolism, because there’s a lot of it.  First off, I want to talk about a pattern I noticed regarding Phos’s changes, one which I discussed in the very first meta I wrote for the series.  At the time, I speculated that the title of the art book, Pseudomorph of Love, was hinting at this pattern, but when the artbook was translated later courtesy of @red-dia, it turns out that said title was alluding to something totally different. Nevertheless, I think I may have inadvertently stumbled onto a method regarding Phos’s changes that seems too consistent to not be deliberate, and I’ll reiterate it here:  With the very notable exception of the pearl eye, down to even the most minor of losses, every permanent loss and addition to Phos’s body has been tied to an attempted act of kindness.  Specifically, Phos loses parts when trying to do something altruistic, and they are given new parts out of kindness on another characters part.

They had to have contaminated parts of their body scraped away after trying to save Cinnabar from falling.

They lost their legs while trying to help Ventricosus return home, and gained the new legs because of an act of kindness on her part.

Although the ice flows initially tried tempting Phos into giving up their arms by reflecting their self-loathing, it was only when they frightened Phos with the idea that Cinnabar might kill themselves if Phos doesn’t change quickly enough that they accidentally-on-purpose lost their arms.  While Antarc initially dismissed the gold they ended up giving to Phos as useless, they changed their tune when they noticed Phos projecting their own low self-esteem onto the gold.  To me, it seems like the act of giving Phos the gold was their way of telling Phos that they’re not worthless.

They lost a bunch of small pieces while trying to save Antarcticite

They lost their head while trying to save Cairn’s arm.  And then Cairn... uh…  Let’s put a pin in that for now, and come back to it when their character arc has progressed a bit further.  The element of mind control eyeballs that may or may not even be real makes the situation a bit more fraught than I care to get into right this very second.

They lost Lapis’s hair while shielding Morga and Goshe from the Lunarians.

They gave away a piece of their leg so the Admirabilis would know they weren’t holding a grudge against Ventricosus

With that established, let’s talk about the pearl eye.  The moment they received it was practically an inverse of the established pattern. It was a transformation motivated by spite on Phos’s part, and for Aechmea, it was an opportunity to exert control over them.  Even the act of receiving the pearl eye made them sick, mysterious human particles notwithstanding.  The ensuing chapters after they received the pearl eye are, as I’m sure you’re all aware, a whole lot darker and meaner than what the story had been up to that point. If I had to draw a dividing line between the part of hnk that is simply melancholy, and the part that makes the reader feel like a frog in boiling water, I’d use Phos’s first trip to the moon to demarcate these two tones—and the symbol that heralded this descent into hell was the introduction of an unkind addition to Phos’s body.  

That brings us to the matter of their most recent loss.  Since it’s now apparent that they won’t be getting their other parts back, we can look back on the moment they lost those parts for good and see if it fits the previous pattern, and in my opinion, it does.  The reason Phos was in that situation was because they were making a last ditch effort to do right by everyone else, and take responsibility for their mistakes.  It was at this point that they mustered up the last bit of kindness and courage they still had in their heart.

But the loss of a given part is only one half of the equation, which begs the question: with what sentiment will Barbata give Phos their replacements?  Barbata has subtly given off the impression that he feels guilty about his role in the various atrocities the Lunarians have undertaken, and is disillusioned with Aechmea, but is as of yet unwilling to actually go against him.  If there’s ever going to be a point in the story in which he decides to do the right thing instead of just following orders, it’s now or never.  I’m counting on you, pasta man.  Follow your conscience for once!  Either way, whether Phos’s reconstruction ends up being an act of kindness on Barbata’s part, or simply another expression of Aechmea’s corruption is, in my opinion, a crucial distinction that will have ramifications for the future of Phos’s character arc.  Speaking of which, it now seems like Red Diamond is the most likely candidate for a replacement, since Padparadscha is busy being asleep on earth.

I’ve talked about how a character’s eyeballs and where they got them from symbolizes their worldview, broadly speaking.  This chapter seems to be a continuation of that.  Kongou shaped the gems’ worldview, which is symbolized by him giving them their eyes, Cairngorm’s devotion to Aechmea is accompanied by them adopting eyes that Aechmea made for them, during the time that Phos was trying to balance the needs of both the gems and the Lunarians, they had an eye from both Kongou and Aechmea, and now that Phos only has the single pearl eye left, they’re thinking with a one-track mind from a distinctly Lunarian perspective: that everything that gets in the way of their salvation needs to die.

I also find it interesting that Phos’s original material is mostly intact, and what they’ve lost are chunks of their legs and head.  It probably symbolizes something, but my brain is starting to leak out of my ears at this point, so I’m just going to remember it for later and see if the meaning becomes clearer in retrospect.

Regarding Phos’s alloy shaping itself into a lotus’s seedpod, my first reaction was that it was a rather ambivalent symbol to use in the context of Phos’s downfall.  On one hand, the seedpod only appears when the highly symbolic flower dies, but on the other hand, while the flower is the part of the plant to which a number of cultures have ascribed auspicious meanings like purity and renewal, it is the humble, unsightly seedpod that goes about the actual business of rebirth.  

But, as @rinboz pointed out in a post on the subject, it appears to be specifically evoking the image of an empty seedpod.  If that’s what Ichikawa is going for, then the meaning is unambiguously ominous, to put it mildly.

Lastly, I brought up in my previous essay that it was highly convenient that Phos happened to trip off the table at the last possible second, and in a manner so noisy that it woke the other gems, no less.  In this chapter, Phos lays the blame for their failure on the earth gems interfering… but that only happened because Phos made a racket.  I speculated that they may have subconsciously sabotaged themselves—it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.  I don’t know how likely that possibility is, but I think it’s one worth keeping in mind.

Well, that was heavy. But on a lighter note, I think it may be time for me to update the only good meta I’ve ever written, birdseki no kuni.  What should Phos 4.0 be?  I think this feral demigod of vengeance ought to be represented by a real apeshit bird, like an Australian magpie, or something.  This will require further deliberation.

[wordsysayswords]

How'd three people die in space?

Anonymous said: Can you elaborate on the three space deaths I’m interested :3

————–

Oh, wow, I did not think anyone was going to take me up on the offer to explain but THANK YOU and here we go! To, preface, I am not an expert. This is information I’ve learned from Wikipedia and documentaries. 

Buckle up, folks. This is the story of the only three people to die in space.

Now, lots of people have died in the quest to explore the solar system. From test pilot flight crashes to disintegration upon reentry (Columbia), and from fires on the launch pad (Apollo 1) to explosions seconds after take-off (Challenger). But even those that happened far above our heads did so below 330,000 feet (100 kilometers). Above that is where we consider the earth’s atmosphere to end and space to begin.

Enter Soyuz 11.

This mission was launched by the USSR on the 6th of June 1971 and was the second attempt at docking with the first-ever space station (Salyut 1), which had been sent up unmanned earlier in the year. The previous mission, Soyuz 10, had successfully docked with the station…but the entry hatch got stuck. Awkward. Imagine spending years of your life preparing to get launched into space only to forget your keys.

But anyway, Soyuz 11’s three crew members; Georgy Dobrovolsky, Vladislav Volkov, and Viktor Patsayev; successfully boarded the space station and spent three weeks performing experiments. At the time, this was the longest time any humans been in space, and people still weren’t convinced zero gravity wouldn’t slowly stop the human heart after prolonged exposure. Like, that’s how little we knew about space.

On June 29th, the crew reboarded Soyuz 11 and began their return to earth. Because of the heat of reentry and other science, there’s about a window of about 7-8 minutes where no communications can occur between a descending module and ground control. So, Soyuz 11 signed off to ground control before starting their descent back to earth.

Seven minutes later, the Soyuz 11’s parachutes deployed and the descent vehicle touched down in a field to the eager cheers of the recovery crew on the ground. It was a perfect landing, but ground control couldn’t raise audio contact with the crew. The recovery crew then opened the module to greet the cosmonauts.

All three crew members were strapped in their seats, their skin spotted blue and blood draining from their ears and noses, dead. Footage of the recovery crew (declassified and now on Youtube, very haunting) shows them trying to give the crew CPR, but it was too late. All three were dead. Because so little was known about space at the time, some people immediately blamed their deaths on extended exposure to zero gravity or radiation.

Here’s what actually happened. An improperly manufactured valve beneath the seats opened when the descent vehicle detached from the module at 551,000 feet (168 kilometers). At that height, you’re still experiencing the vacuum of space, so the cabin depressurized. In less than a minute, they went into cardia arrest and asphyxiated. It appears Viktor Patsayev fought against the straps on his seat to close the valve but couldn’t reach it. It wasn’t instant. The cosmonauts knew something had gone horribly wrong and were helpless to save themselves.

Now, here are some crazy facts:

This crew was actually the backup crew for the Soyuz 11 mission. Days before the launch, one of the prime crew members showed signs of illness, so the entire crew was grounded, and the backup crew was sent in their place.

The grounded commander of the prime crew warned the three men that he did not trust the valves to close automatically as they were designed to do. He recommended that they close them manually before reentry. For some reason, the crew did not do so, and one of those valves ended up killing them. 

The crew was wearing flight suits, not spacesuits during reentry, which could have bought them enough time to block the valve. This tragedy contributed to the policy that astronauts and cosmonauts must wear spacesuits during both launch and reentry in case of sudden depressurization. 

And, well, that’s it. These men taught us a lot about space flight both in life and death. 

–

The space race and its disasters are frankly fascinating to me, especially Soyuz 11, the Challenger (I was in school when it happened), and the Columbia (which was a complete clusterfuck of officials strong-arming engineers into rushing a launch they knew was unsafe all for the media coverage and then LYING ABOUT IT TO CONGRESS AFTERWARDS). 

So, yeah, I’m not an expert, but I always love the chance to talk about space exploration history (and this isn’t exactly a fun story you can whip out at parties) so hmu if you wanna know more space facts and stories.

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of January 8th, 2020

Best of this Week: Batman and the Outsiders #9 - Bryan Hill, Dexter Soy, Veronica Gandini and Clayton Cowles

Ra’s al Ghul wins when he’s able to convince you that his methods are the right ones.

That’s the unfortunate lesson that Jefferson Pierce, Black Lightning, is forced to learn when one of his closest friends is killed at the behest of Ra’s al Ghul. The book opens with Jefferson thinking back to when he met his professional colleague, Tina McClintock. She was one of the first people to welcome him to his position as Principal in Metropolis, sticking by him even after he leaves to work Gotham. Dexter Soy draws these scenes with friendly intimacy, showing them growing as friends and colorist Veronica Gandini mutes most of the colors in the flashback, but emphasizes Tina’s distinct red hair.

We then cut to a somber splash page with Jefferson standing by her half burned corpse with his head down in despair. It’s a powerful scene as it’s the first time he’s experienced such a close loss because of his superhero identity and with it being so close to home, his anger and sadness is palpable through the page. Dexter Soy does an amazing job of inking shadows for effect and Gandini makes excellent use of lighting to show the gravity of the situation.

Batman shows up soon after to inform Jefferson that it might be the work of one of Ra’s people and tries to ease his allies anger, but Jefferson isn’t having it. Jefferson acknowledges his anger and how much we wants to kill Ra’s for what he’s done, but this causes him and Batman to have a small clash. Instead of being firm with Jefferson about things, Batman tries to console him by repeating what Jeff told him in an earlier Detective Comics arc; That “It’s not his fault.” Jefferson abdicates leadership of The Outsiders team to Katana before taking some time off to clear his head.

One of the best things about this story is the continuing friendship being built between Katana and Black Lightning. As soon as he leaves the hospital, she is there waiting for him to get a feel of his headspace. Gandini colors the afternoon sky with a simmering orange, as if to emphasize Jefferson’s bubbling rage. Katana understands his anger, his want to kill because, unlike Batman, she has no reservations about it. She knows that Jeff is the glue that holds the team together and does her best to keep him from turning to the dark.

The two walk and talk for awhile and Jefferson explains how he’s tried to avoid violence all of his life.That’s always been one of the core aspects of Black Lightning’s character - the idea that he wants to be a positive influence on his community when there’s been so much violence in and around him for years. That’s why he decided to go into teaching, to help keep the youths of his neighborhoods from falling into the darkness that he’s now slowly being consumed by. Katana doesn’t even disagree that Ra’s deserves to die, but clarifies that Jefferson is the best of them and if he falls, then they all do. She reminds him that The Outsiders will be there to stop Ra’s and whatever he has planned.

Meanwhile, Orphan and The Signal, Cassandra Cain and Duke Thomas respectively, are testing out Duke’s new powers over darkness in Metropolis. They manage to take down a local drug dealer together, but then Batman confronts them for keeping secrets, something he does all the time. Soy and Gandini do a lot for this scene as far as possible symbolism goes. One single street light shines down on Batman insinuating he’s right, but his face is covered in shadow. He’s also positioned above Duke and Cass with a bit of distance between them, showing a divide as he talks down to them.

As Bruce is in the middle of dressing down his kids, Superman appears to talk about everything going on with Jefferson. This is pretty cool as it’s not often that we see Superman involvement in Batman stories like this. Bruce tries to tell Superman that none of this is his business, but Superman counters that he’s heard everything and they both know that Ra’s is far more dangerous than Bruce is thinking right now. Superman asks Bruce to change how he goes about things, just this once as to not hurt Jefferson or the kids before flying away.

Unfortunately for Batman, the rest of his Outsiders are already thinking about changing things up as Bruce’s methods aren’t working out as well as they expected. Duke and Cass decide to seek Shiva out for a final confrontation and to stop trying to live up to Batman’s ideal. I kinda like this shift for Duke as it shows him taking a route that Dick Grayson did many years ago. At the same time, Katana and Jefferson finish their talk and also want to take the fight directly to Ra’s.

This issue of Batman and the Outsiders was heavy on the emotion. The last time I’d even seen Black Lightning even close to as angry as this had to have been in the mid-2000s Justice League of America. I’m glad that Bryan Hill is giving him dimensions other than uplifting and determined.

It’s okay to be angry, especially after a tragedy like this. The same can be said for the puberty analogue of Duke’s changing powers and Cassandra’s want to not be treated like a broken kid anymore. With Dexter Soy’s amazing art and Veronica Gandini’s expert colors, this book is an absolute high recommend.