#cause then before you know it you DO amass a group of people who think like you and wanna share similar ideas with you

[todayisafridaynight]

it’s tough not letting people ruin your fun when there’s so many claiming that their opinion about a character is right and every other interpretation is wrong/bad

it's tough, but not impossible

[wolfythewitch]

Genuine question, what about King Saul? Cause I’m not really familiar with his story

Okay so this ended up pretty long so I'll put it under the cut

So he was anointed king when he went to look for his father's missing donkeys, and on the way they decided to visit a nearby town where Samuel lived. Samuel saw him and god told him that Saul was his appointed king, the first one to ever rule (before the kings there were only judges) Which was wild for him because

So he was anointed king the next day, in public. Which was also really funny because my man was hiding. He was stealthing. He actually came back to his father's house and worked the land until he was called to lead the army

So he does some king things and he does alright. I think his reign lasted two years, though some scholars say it must have been closer to 20ish. The thing is, he makes two mistakes.

First, he did not wait for Samuel before going through with an offering before a war

Second, he was sent to attack the Amalekites, and to not spare anyone, man, woman, or children, livestock. But he spared their king and their cattle.

An interesting thing here is the relationship of Saul and Samuel, as Samuel genuinely mourns that Saul is no longer to be king. And while they never see each other again after this, they both seemed to have cared for each other a lot.

So afterwards, David is anointed as the new king. At that time, Saul hasn't been made aware yet. He had David in his employ as an armor bearer, and when he was troubled, as he so often was these days, David would play the lyre to soothe him.

Now there was another battle between the Philistines and the Israelites, which you're probably more familiar with. This time they had a very special guy, a giant named Goliath. You probably know of the story, how David killed him with a slingshot. What's notable here was that Saul was genuinely fond of David, even lending him his own armor, even if it did become too heavy

David had befriended Jonathan and they became very close two, "knit his soul with his as if they were one". Saul have him a high rank in his army, as anything David was sent out to do he did successfully and well.

The first time we see him think negatively of David was when the people praised his deeds over Saul's, which most likely fed into his growing paranoia as well, knowing that his time as king was almost up

This time, fully convinced that David was to usurp him, he repeatedly ordered for his death, once even sending soldiers to where he lived with Saul's daughter(David's wife), though David managed to elude him.

David finally runs away with help from Jonathan (note this was a very emotional moment between the two and isn't very relevant to the story but it's great) and becomes a fugitive. He gains temporary refuge at a house of priests, who send him off with food and a weapon. Saul put these priests to death.

By now David has amassed a group of supporters who believed that he should be the rightful king. While Saul was pursuing them, they hid themselves away in a cave. Saul went to go take a piss and the men try to convince David to strike at his back. David spares Saul however, cutting off a piece of his cloak and showing it to him later on. He still believed Saul to be the rightful king and didn't want to hurt him.

8 Then David went out of the cave and called out to Saul, “My lord the king!” When Saul looked behind him, David bowed down and prostrated himself with his face to the ground. 9 He said to Saul, “Why do you listen when men say, ‘David is bent on harming you’? 10 This day you have seen with your own eyes how the Lord delivered you into my hands in the cave. Some urged me to kill you, but I spared you; I said, ‘I will not lay my hand on my lord, because he is the Lord’s anointed.’ 11 See, my father, look at this piece of your robe in my hand! I cut off the corner of your robe but did not kill you. See that there is nothing in my hand to indicate that I am guilty of wrongdoing or rebellion. I have not wronged you, but you are hunting me down to take my life. 12 May the Lord judge between you and me. And may the Lord avenge the wrongs you have done to me, but my hand will not touch you. 13 As the old saying goes, ‘From evildoers come evil deeds,’ so my hand will not touch you.

I can't post anymore photos sorry HAHA.

Overcome with remorse and guilt, Saul swears that he will stop chasing David and goes home.

But again, Saul goes after David, making camp near the wilderness where he stayed at. David snuck in under the cover of night and stole from Saul a water jug and a spear, which he showed to him when morning came.

8 Abishai said to David, “Today God has delivered your enemy into your hands. Now let me pin him to the ground with one thrust of the spear; I won’t strike him twice.” 9 But David said to Abishai, “Don’t destroy him! Who can lay a hand on the Lord’s anointed and be guiltless? 10 As surely as the Lord lives,” he said, “the Lord himself will strike him, or his time will come and he will die, or he will go into battle and perish. 11 But the Lord forbid that I should lay a hand on the Lord’s anointed. Now get the spear and water jug that are near his head, and let’s go.”

17 Saul recognized David’s voice and said, “Is that your voice, David my son?” David replied, “Yes it is, my lord the king.” 18 And he added, “Why is my lord pursuing his servant? What have I done, and what wrong am I guilty of?

And so once again guilty and remorseful, they part ways.

At this point, Samuel had already passed away. Desperate at an oncoming war, Saul seeks out a medium (which were forbidden) and asks to see Samuel's ghost

8 So Saul disguised himself, putting on other clothes, and at night he and two men went to the woman. “Consult a spirit for me,” he said, “and bring up for me the one I name.” 9 But the woman said to him, “Surely you know what Saul has done. He has cut off the mediums and spiritists from the land. Why have you set a trap for my life to bring about my death?” 10 Saul swore to her by the Lord, “As surely as the Lord lives, you will not be punished for this.” 11 Then the woman asked, “Whom shall I bring up for you?” “Bring up Samuel,” he said. 12 When the woman saw Samuel, she cried out at the top of her voice and said to Saul, “Why have you deceived me? You are Saul!” 13 The king said to her, “Don’t be afraid. What do you see?” The woman said, “I see a ghostly figure[a] coming up out of the earth.” 14 “What does he look like?” he asked. “An old man wearing a robe is coming up,” she said. Then Saul knew it was Samuel, and he bowed down and prostrated himself with his face to the ground.

But Samuel only repeats what has been said before, and says that he and his children will be delivered to the hand of the Philistines, and that tomorrow, he and his son will join Samuel (will die).

The next day, they were fighting and losing. While being pursued and knowing that they were close to defeat, Saul runs himself through his sword and dies, reasoning that death is better than captivity. His three sons died that day too.

(notably, he was still alive after impaling himself. A nearby soldier passed by and Saul begged him to finish the job, which he did)

His line does still live on, as David had taken in his only surviving grandson, Jonathan's son, Mephibosheth.

And yeah! That's a summarized version of his life. I just find his story fascinating, how his reign slowly grew more corrupted and paranoid, and how even the people closest to him turned on him, helping instead his greatest enemy, who wanted nothing but to serve him. It's really tragic haha. And presumably, he didn't even want to be king. After Samuel anointed him before the people, Saul went back to his home in Gibeah. He continued to work on his father's land until he was needed to lead the people in battle.

[lord-rosenth0rne]

Replaying the Stormcloak Civil War side again and I have to sit back and realize... The Empire won't be able to go against the Thalmor if they won the Civil War. In fact, the Empire winning would have worse consequences in the long run, like playing Plague Inc. and getting a foothold in every country through the backdoor before it's too late. I see a lot of Imperial supporters talk about "the bigger picture", but what good does that do if you ignore the elephant in the room?

Thalmor will quash any and all attempts to gather power to oppose them. They have eyes and ears everywhere so what makes Tulius or any Empire supporter who hates the Thalmor think that they have any chance to gather a power separate from what the Empire has without the Thalmor noticing? Several spies in the game aren't high elves so it would only take one of them to destroy any attempt. You would just need someone greedy or desperate enough to take a deal with the Thalmor to backstab everyone. Tulius, if he survived the Civil War, could be taken out at any point if the Thalmor believed that he was too dangerous to keep alive or he served his purpose and wasn't needed for their plans anymore. We're dealing with a dangerous group who will stab people in the back the moment they know they can.

The only way someone would amass an army that would be a somewhat threat would be to go to the territories that do not allow Thalmor intervention. Allowing the Stormcloaks to win, which the Thalmor DO NOT WANT according to Ulfric's Dossier, would be the first place to start to drive them from the providence. Skyrim has a strategic position with its harsh terrain as well as people who can use it to their advantage. Think of real-life conflicts where the smaller side won against a larger army because of their terrain and fighting tactics. There is an issue on the Stormcloak Civil War side where the aid the Imperial side desperately needed was stuck behind an avalanche, a situation that could be manmade if needed.

Skyrim does have resources, such as Silver that the Empire kept taking. It's not like they're hurting on resources.

With enough convincing and emphasis on its necessity, Ulfric could accept allegiances with others if they were willing to fight against the Thalmor. It's part of the reason the Dark Elves aren't getting as much attention from him because they refuse to help the cause and believe they're owed things that they did not earn. He accepts a Dunmer (myself on my Ze'erith run 8D) who will fight against the Empire, so I doubt he'd turn down anyone who has beef with the Thalmor. He can be weaponized further against the elves who turned him into a sleeper agent, as well as teach others to use the Thu'um.

Alliances and truces MUST be made, including with the Reachmen and Orcs, which I know is like corraling cats, but it shouldn't be impossible. Any traitors found should be swiftly dealt with to minimize the chance of Thalmor spies.

Pardon me while I plot the downfall of the Thalmor if my Dragonborn took charge of Skyrim... I'd utilize the College of Winterhold, the Thieves Guild as informants, and the Dark Brotherhood to target potential spies. The Blades will be revived as well to focus on any dragon conflicts as the rest of us are focusing on the Thalmor and will not be allowed to down any dragon willing to help our cause, Partysnacks and Odahviig as major players.

The Thalmor better hope I don't get into a dark mood and go to either Sheogorath or Hermaeus Mora for help. I know Mora would love to get more information the Thalmor may be hiding...

I'd also stop Ulfric from killing Tulius and Rikke and fake their deaths to get them out of the situation they were in if they were willing to listen or if you were able to show them the dossiers from the Thalmor Embassy.

[nightswithkookmin]

Thanks for branching into my favorite topic

"He will do his Solo career with or without the members."

Brilliant. Love it.

But as will the others💀

The rap line have demonstrated this much. Tae is even handling Solo very well.

Between all three however it is still only Jimin who seemed to demonstrate a level of commitment towards the group. I'm not gonna say attachment because that throws people of.

Said it before, will say it again JIMIN IS THE BEST IDOL OUT THERE. you don't get to be the best idol just because. To have a whole producer coming out to say you will end Kpop in 2023. Ain't that the tea💀

I don't know why in one breath people want to praise Jimin and acknowledge his status as the idol other idols look up to, yet still have a problem when it comes to the nitty-gritty of what actually has gone into earning him that status.

He takes his profession seriously, does everything in his might to make sure he delivers his best and nothing short of it. Yet we can't see how that translates into him taking the group or band seriously too?? Wild.

Bts is the vehicle that has brought him here and you best believe Park Jimin is not driving no damn dead beat vehicle. He's changing the oils, greasing the rim, inflating the tires, tightening the knots and giving it a new shine. Best believe that.

He's worked so hard, played by the rules and done everything in his will and power to aid the group to achieve the wealth and success the group has amassed.

He recruited fans for the group, bust his ass practicing, dieting and damn near killed himself for the group.

I hate dont like it when people wanna say well he's not the attached one, that other person is, just to say it, because they associate negative meaning with the word attached when like I'm looking at that other person they claim is more attached and they come no where near Jimin's level of commitment and dedication he has shown to the group. No shade.

I don't see anyone in bts more attached dedicated and committed to the cause that is bangtan. He was willing to sacrifice his health, his sanity, his relationship with his boyfriend in the group for the success and well being of the group and we have a problem admitting this???

At the end of the day I think we all have very different feel and perspective on the matter and I like my perspective better🤣

That man tries. I'm sorry but he tries and I swear to you he is unmatched. Thanks for attending my rally.

Sorry I have to update this cos.... I have more to say

When I talk about he will be hit the hardest if BTS go Solo I'm looking at all that work my guy has put in to help build the group, the thought, energy, the nurturing, the effort- all of that.

And maybe I'm projecting- may be

But to see ones hard work just puff vanish into thin air just like that must suck. It's painful. Jimin's gotta shed a tear or two. And I know it mustn't have been easy for him seeing Jungkook run off feeling like he'd just been freed from a cage too.

Then Namjoon basically saying he was tired nearly destroyed my heart for Jimin.

In a way Jungkook won cos dude was dancing on Jimin's chest taunting him like bruh was it worth it denying us our happiness Hyung Ahjusi over this 🎤 speak into the mic🤣

And he keeps re-echoing those same sentiments even in his recent live talking about how he doesn't know when it will all end so he's just gonna Yolo 🤷🏾

Called jimin out saying as a grown ass adult they should be doing whatever they want

Frankly I approve that message.

Which doesn't mean I disapprove of Jimin's approach to things. He is by far admirable. And his way works. Especially in their line of work where they are constantly under scrutiny.

He's very professional

But at what cost?

Sigh, I won't have a public melt down over his weight and body again

I won't have a public melt down over his weight and body again

I won't have a public melt down over his weight and body again

I won't have a public melt down over his weight and body again

May be if I say it one more time I won't have a public melt down over his weight and body and the things he has to do to maintain it again 😫

Jimin....

chileee.

[atlanticcanada]

New Brunswick holding onto $41 million in security deposits from tenants

The New Brunswick government has amassed nearly $41 million in security deposits collected from residential tenants in a practice that is unique in Canada and that critics say needs to change.

The latest annual report from Service New Brunswick showed security deposits sitting at $40.9 million for the 2021-22 fiscal year, up from $36.4 million a year earlier. It is unclear from the numbers how much of the total came from people who had moved out and were entitled to get their deposits back.

Under provincial law, a landlord can require a deposit of up to one month's rent to cover possible damage caused by the tenant. Amendments introduced in 1983 dictated that the province would oversee the collected deposits.

Nichola Taylor, chair of the New Brunswick branch of housing rights group ACORN, called the province's practice of holding onto the security deposits problematic. She said the process of recovering a security deposit is overly complicated, which could explain the swelling sums in provincial coffers.

"What are they spending it on? They are certainly not spending it on making the housing situation better," she said. "You would think if they have all that money stored that money should be going back towards housing to help tenants and to decrease the crisis of affordable housing that we're currently in."

Taylor said that when someone ends a lease, they have to fill out a form requesting their security deposit back from Service New Brunswick. The landlord has a week to decide how much of the money will be held back to cover damages. If there is a dispute, the matter goes before a tribunal.

She and her family experienced the "struggle" of trying to get their money back last year after they changed apartments in Fredericton. Just to request a deposit's return, she noted, people need the tenant number they were assigned when the deposit was made. "We didn't know what ours was," Taylor said. "We managed to find it in the end. But it's just a really long process that's unnecessary, and it causes you a lot of stress."

After a back-and-forth with the Residential Tenancies Tribunal, she said it took more than two months to get back her deposit.

The process is especially burdensome for seniors, newcomers, those who are not intricately aware of the rules and people on fixed incomes who are depending on getting the money back, Taylor said.

"You're not going to understand how to do all that unless you call the Residential Tenancies Tribunal and then you are on hold for ages. It's just unnecessary, very complicated, and very stressful."

A request for comment from the office of Housing Minister Jill Green received no response. Jennifer Vienneau, spokeswoman for Service New Brunswick, said no one was available for an interview but provided an emailed statement.

She said the money collected for security deposits goes into the province's consolidated accounts. There is no data available on how much interest the province earns from the amounts collected, but Vienneau said short-term interest earned from the deposits "offsets the costs of servicing the public debt."

The Tenant and Landlord Relations Office, which has replaced the Residential Tenancies Tribunal, is responsible for handling security deposits and holding them until they are claimed, she said. When tenants move out, it's their responsibility to contact Service New Brunswick to claim their deposits, Vienneau added.

A survey of all Canadian provinces by The Canadian Press showed that New Brunswick is the only one where the government holds onto security deposits.

In British Columbia, the landlord must return the security deposit within 15 days and pay interest from the time they collected the deposit. Any deductions for repairs should be agreed upon in writing with the tenant.

In Alberta, landlords must pay interest on their tenants' security deposits at the end of each tenancy year as determined in a formula set out in regulations. The landlord has 10 days after the tenant leaves to return the damage deposit along with a statement detailing deductions and interest paid.

Yukon, Nunavut, Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia also require landlords to pay interest on the security deposit. In Saskatchewan, interest is payable to a tenant by a landlord for tenancies over five years.

Megan Mitton, housing critic for New Brunswick's opposition Green Party called the province's system "weird" and said she was shocked at what she called a lack of accountability.

"The system needs to be more clear, and needs to help people get their security deposits back. It's not right for it to be so difficult," she said. "The other thing is that right now, the government is using renter's money as an investment, basically, for government profit. They need to pay back people's interest to them that's rightfully theirs."

Taylor said the entire system in New Brunswick is tipped in landlords' favour.

"We want to see this changed to be a more simpler process because it's not helping tenants whatsoever," she said. "We are seeing tenants struggle to get their damage deposit back."

This report by The Canadian Press was first published July 6, 2023.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/Mm3HQfD

[losthomunculus]

Online Safety Relevant to the Current State of the Internet

On twitter I made a tweet about how online safety lessons in school can be very out of touch but that the advice of people who are familiar with the current internet shouldn't be disregarded. So here's my informal collection of online safety tips

Sources: unrestricted internet access since elementary school (not recommended), being a formerly involuntarily home bound person for several years that amassed way too much online experience

This could possibly hold upsetting reminders to people who had bad experiences online including mentions of grooming and emotional manipulation so please proceed with caution!

Information Sharing

Make an online pseudonym for public profiles and websites.

Don’t feel like you have to list everything about you for the world to see.

Sometimes it’s not a question of “can this information be used to locate and identify me irl?”, but simply “do I want this information publicly available and linked to my online persona?”

Unlike offline, being online leaves a constant trail of who you were accessible at all times. People are constantly growing and changing. Try to limit the information you share so you can ditch that trail and start over if need be.

Sharing information with people you make friends with and trust is a judgement call on your part, but always be on the safe side and be protective of your information.

Start as cautious as possible with online safety. Any risks or judgement calls can come later when you are 1. aware of the risks, 2. ready to address them if they occur, and 3. have gathered plenty of information instead of doing something blindly and hoping for the best.

Do not share your triggers publicly, they can very easily be used against you. Instead use websites with a large amount of filtering options to curate your online experience. If you are going to share them, only do it privately with people you trust.

Importance of Boundaries

It doesn’t matter how mature you are, don’t enter age limited spaces you don’t qualify for. It’s disrespectful to the boundaries of the people who made that space. Boundaries like this exist for the comfort of both sides involved.

Just because you can “handle it” doesn’t mean it’s good for you. Desensitization is not something to brag about.

Venting or making r18 posts as a minor on a public account is VERY dangerous. Intense emotional vulnerability is something manipulators will look for as a way to get to you. The same with sexual jokes to develop your comfort talking about those topics casually and eventually escalating the situation. If you are going to talk about such things please keep that in private conversations with people you trust in your age group.

Note the difference between public and private online space. Tweeting something on a public account is not the same as having a conversation in the cafeteria with your friends.

If an adult tries talking to you about r18, run the other way. Doesn’t matter how cool you are, it says something weird about THEM if they’re willing to talk to a minor about that stuff.

If someone( like 3+ years, honestly depends on how old you are) older than you wouldn't be comfortable saying what they're saying to you in front of other people (like a teacher or guardian), that's suspicious as hell. Run in the other direction.

The younger you are, the more age gaps matter. There's a bigger difference in development between a 13 year old and a 17 year old than there is between a 20 year old and a 24 year old. It helps to try to contextualize it with real people instead of numbers. Instead of thinking "oh just 4 years? that's not that weird" consider "oh. that would be like a freshman (13/14) dating a senior (17/18). yikes."

Be just as wary of people your own age talking about things that make you uncomfortable. Just like irl, sometimes you’ll meet people your age that are hurtful.

Friends complain to each other and talk about their issues, that alone is fine. But when people are doing it without permission, draw a line. When people are making it feel like you’re responsible for maintaining their mental health, you need to draw a line. When it starts to effect your mental health, PLEASE DRAW A LINE! I know it feels like your responsibility sometimes, but it’s not. You cannot be there for others if you’re not taking care of yourself first and foremost.

Don’t be afraid to block people. Even for petty reasons. It’s good to block people. Don’t force yourself to see stuff you don’t want to see.

Being Constantly Online

The 24 hour news cycle is not a good thing to follow 24/7. Taking social responsibility is a good thing, but your brain is NOT built to worry about every issue in the world at once. One strategy I use for staying sane is I try to only check the news once a day, and if something needs more attention to set aside an amount of time I’m going to focus on it before I need to take time to step back.

Touch grass. Not literally, unless you can in which case I highly suggest it, sometimes it’s just good to lay in a field. What I mean is you need to dedicate a good portion of your time to being offline (sleep does not count). What your offline time looks like is going to differ depending on your level of ability, but even if you are house bound it’s important to build some hobbies that don’t rely on the internet. Talking to people offline is also a good goal if possible, even just to your housemates.

Social etiquette greatly differs online and offline and sometimes the reminder that were all just Some People gets lost behind the numbers and the fabricated personas. Keep in mind the difference in how information is shared without forgetting that the fact we are all people remains the same.

Be generous with your etiquette. You will avoid a lot of stress if you conduct yourself with the same politeness you would have in an offline interaction. Master the art of "minding your own business" for your own sake.

Arguments and Competition

As soon as you can, you need to internalize the fact that leaving an argument is not losing.

It is inevitable you will be exposed to many people who disagree with you. Some people only want to argue to rile you up. Sometimes that’s not their intention, but it’s what they’re doing. You do not have to remain in conversation with people, especially if they’re not interested in actually coming to an understanding. Even if they are interested, sometimes they just suck!! Leave!! You can leave!!

On that note, sometimes you are going to get valid criticism and it’s going to hurt. That is part of learning. If someone says you messed up and did something hurtful, take a second to step back from your defensiveness and consider: intent ≠ effect. Apologize, repair what you can, and move forward with the ability to do better in the future. You’re going to mess up every once in awhile, it’s inevitable.

To summarize the past two points: don't waste your time on unnecessary hostility but don't close yourself into an echo chamber either. Debates should be about learning.

Sometimes people are not going to like you. This happens offline too but people tend to be a lot more blunt online. Sometimes people dislike you for no reason or for really petty reasons. That’s not your problem, move on.

Don’t actively seek out people you don’t like or who don’t like you to argue with. Whether or not your side is the “right side” doesn’t matter, it’s going to cause you so much unnecessary stress. Feel free to keep posting your opinions on your own profile but don’t seek out unnecessary conflict.

This is a different type of competition than previously mentioned, but be aware of the danger of comparing yourself to other people. Especially if you’re a creative or student, DO NOT GET SWEPT UP IN THE GRIND CULTURE. It’s more subtle in some places than others, but anytime you see the notion that you should be working yourself to the bone be VERY critical. Also be critical of any online cultures (such as gaming and art communities) that brag about unhealthy habits or act like it’s ~part of the culture~ (ex: all nighters, not taking breaks, getting hurt. Any activity that neglects health to work toward a goal).

Not just grind culture, any community of subculture that shares anti recovery sentiments is a huge red flag. Even if they're joking, it's not worth the risk of internalizing those statements.

Everyone’s social media presence is to some degree doctored because it’s a purposefully selected collection of what they allow you to see. It’s fine to like the persona you see being displayed, but never forget that it is not reflective of the entire person. Everyone online is JUST SOME PERSON. Do not forget that and start holding yourself to a standard you can’t even see every side of.

By posting online you are opening yourself to criticism. Whether or not it’s justified can vary, but either way it’s going to happen. Mute stuff, go private, disable comments, etc if you need to.

Misc Tidbits

these are technically just general info that is also good for offline but I have seen things that make me think people online need the extra reminder.

Learn what cults are, how they recruit, and what they do to their members. I'm not kidding. This is particularly relevant at the moment because of current societal unrest and widespread loneliness. No one is immune to cult propaganda, and not every cult is based on pre established religion or family. Many exist ONLINE and are able to manipulate people without ever meeting face to face. (learn more: Loneliness as a Pandemic: The Dangers of Online Cult

Familiarize yourself with the concept of pseudoscience. Please familiarize yourself with the concept of pseudoscience and then learn how to identify pseudoscience. (learn more: Karl Popper, Science, & Pseudoscience: Crash Course Philosophy #8)

Q. How do I know if a source is reliable?

Final Thoughts

It's important people of ALL ages learn these lessons, because the internet is constantly changing and we are all vulnerable when in the presence of other people.

Be cautious and stay safe

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. ��Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

[chasingfictions]

i do think it's interesting that in willow's ritual to resurrect buffy it's specifically a snake that she coughs up. like there aren't that many snakes in the series it's pretty much the giant snake monster in "reptile boy," the mayor in "graduation day" and the snake glory uses in "shadow" and it feels interesting that all of those snakes are about the pursuit of something for selfish reasons — "reptile boy" is literally about sacrificing the lives of girls so that rich, powerful men can get and stay rich and powerful; the mayor's ascension in "graduation day" similarly is about power, is about consolidating power, and also involves the sacrificing of a young girl, faith. and like, buffy is the one who stabbed faith, but in terms of the violence done, the mayor was the one using faith to further his goals. he loved her in his way, but still at the end of the day her strength and ability coupled with her destabilized sense of self were fodder for his political ambitions, and he sent her to kill angel knowing full well the danger she could be in. "shadow" is about glory trying to find the key so she can destroy everything in existence just to go home, and even though she doesn't know it's dawn at that point, it's still once again a young, vulnerable girl being implicated, losing her life.

and then you have "bargaining," willow coughing up a snake, in this sort of reversal of "reptile boy" and "shadow," where the snake is this external thing you're feeding to attain a goal. it's much closer to "graduation day," where the snake erupts from within the mayor and consumes him.

and that's interesting when you consider the role of faith for the mayor, the role of buffy for willow. that's the chink in the mayor's snakeskin. the other cases of young girls in snake episodes are very straightforward attempted sacrifices for power. but there's something curious about the fact that for willow and the mayor, the young girls they care about really were stabbed, really did die, and that it wasn't an intentional sacrifice to a snake. rather, it contributed to the swell of desire for power and protection and invulnerability that makes willow's snake and the mayor's snake live inside them, rather than an outer force that they feed.

for the mayor, faith is at the heart of why he wants that power to begin with. the mayor is "a family man" without a family. he's the sort of guy who would say he does what he does "for the children," and faith is that. faith is his adoptive child. he had this plan before her, but it means more now, it's more vulnerable now, he wants to protect her. he genuinely thinks, as you can see in "this year's girl," that without him there is nothing for her. you can hear the emotion and ache in his voice when he says "some people who should be here today aren't." wanting faith's safety is a massive contributor to his feelings towards the ascension and amassing as the season progresses, and yet he is the one who sacrifices her. he sends her on the mission to kill angel which ultimately leads to her coma. the way him becoming the snake is linked to this sacrifice of an innocent life.

and willow is so similar. she didn't cause buffy's death. but her snake arises in this undeath, her snake appears when she traumatically rips buffy from death, in a sense sacrificing buffy in reverse. sacrificing buffy's peace in heaven so buffy can continue to fight against evil, because willow needs her. while willow's stated goal isn't greater power and influence, that's definitely a part of it. i read willow in "bargaining" and beyond as being in deep denial — she really thinks she's not a bad guy, not a bad person, that her aims are pure. and i do think she really Believes buffy is in a hell dimension. but, at the same time, she's been anointed the boss of the group in buffy's stead. she's living buffy's role, by being the programmer of the buffybot, the bot becomes this extension of willow. and there's this curious dichotomy where resurrecting buffy is both this event that gives her tremendous power — she's one of the most powerful witches in the world at this point — and also this attempt to get rid of that power. she doesn't want to be the leader of the group. she's off-kilter. she desperately wants buffy back, so that buffy can take her rightful place as the glue of the scoobies. but buffy comes back fragmented and traumatized and not in a place to be anyone's hero, she's just trying to remember how to be a person again, and the fact that willow's power play to fix everything didn't work if anything only fuels her power spiral. she keeps trying to fix things with magic and intimidation and forcing her will, over and over again, for the rest of the season, so that she can be so powerful that she doesn't have to feel this way, this destabilization, ever again.

and you can honestly read those other snake moments as about destabilization and vulnerability as well. the frat bros in "reptile boy" live and die by hierarchy — they sacrifice people at the bottom of that hierarchy so they can stay at the top, and their position on the top is so fragile, however it might appear. the mayor is deeply afraid of being vulnerable as well — literally he taunts others about how he is "invulnerable," verbatim. he's immortal and unchanging and represents old guard values that are crumbling. the world is trying to eat the things that he holds dear — patriarchy, order, law — so he needs to eat them first. and glory too, is so vulnerable, is in this human form that can be killed at any moment when she used to be the most power being in the world. she doesn't know who she is on earth, she is constantly being destabilized by the shame and desire and feeling that creeps in when you have physical human form, and she wants to go home so she can be bigger than those feelings, squash them like bugs.

i find it so interesting with willow's snake that it's coming from within her, and she's vomiting it up. the desire for power, the fear of vulnerability, the willingness to sacrifice the lives of young girls specifically, that's within her, and she is trying to eject it, compared to the other cases, where they are literally feeding or trying to fully embody that snake. but vomiting the snake doesn't save her from it, because it came from within her. she never acknowledges her link to the snake, and so it keeps pursuing her. it doesn't feel like coincidence that the effigy of proserpexa is wrapped in a snake, and has a snake tongue:

willow's desire for power, for specifically invulnerability — to have protective snakeskin wrapped around her, to have the power to swallow things whole, a power you need when you are so aware of your own vulnerability because you are constantly slithering on the ground — follows her. she can't protect herself from the world, no matter how powerful she gets, and so she decides the only way is to destroy the world.

there's something haunting about that, about the fact that willow is in the world. willow in "grave" is making a suicide attempt, this dark mirror of buffy's self-sacrifice in "the gift". which can also be read as a suicide, as buffy's death wish and depression catching up to her. there's something about willow, buffy's spirit, as per "primeval" feeling SO destabilized without her best friend. wanting someone back from oblivion. she thinks buffy is in hell because she is in hell, and willow's spirit is buffy's spirit, so how can they not be in the same place? willow starting the season trying to make everything better by reversing a suicide, but it doesn't make everything better, from willow's black-and-white perspective, it doesn't necessarily make anything better, the world isn't worth saving. and she ends up right back here. with the snake she didn't accept she had. trying to destroy the world and herself.

it's the fact that in the end, the young vulnerable girl willow is trying to give up to attain power is herself. she's sacrificing herself to the snake. proserpexa both has the power of the snake, and is totally bound by it. and so is willow.

it's the fact that what saves her is vulernability. there's sort of a transitive property you could read into "primeval"'s model of the scoobies-as-buffy. willow is buffy's spirit. xander is buffy's heart. so, transitively, isn't xander also willow's heart?

and willow's heart comes to save her. totally vulnerable. knowing he could very well die. says he loves her. no matter how afraid and vulnerable, and alone willow is, her heart, her spirit's heart, still loves her. and now im crying bye!!! except not bye because this is literally jsut me watching the fucking previously-on of "bargaining part ii" and i have the rest of the episode to watch and did i MENTION season 6 is gonna destroy me

[general-cerberus]

About the persecution thing, I think theres a time to accept persecution for the glory of the Lord and a time to defend yourself, and we have to pray for wisdom and guidance from the Holy Spirit for when to do which, but its ok if you disagree.

I think maybe we should just agree to disagree about the self defense thing before we end up letting this argument getting out of hand, like most arguments do on this this site. Especially since this is a public site and an aggressive fight  would reflect badly on the Holy Spirit. You’ve been fairly polite so far, not trying to insult you or call you crazy, but you know how this site works (And if one of did start getting aggressive, it would probably be me, i got a little anger streak im working on). I just think we’ve gotten as far as we can. We’ve both made our arguments clear, for the most part, and I don’t think either of us are gonna budge on this. I’ve look at verses of Jesus at the temple with a whip, of Peter carrying a sword, of encouragement to buy a sword, and soldiers who converted and continued to serve after, and I came to my conclusions. You looked at verses saying to turn the other cheek, of disciples accepting persecution for the glory of God, and come to your conclusions. And thats ok. We can disagree about stuff and still work together for the glory of God. Im not saying that its not important to debate and come to conclusions about this, but I don't think either of us are capable of changing the others mind about this right now and that we should stop before our emotions start bubbling up.

As for the Theocracy thing, i think we disagree about what a theocracy is. I dont consider heaven a theocracy because its beyond politics and human affairs. I was referring to theocracies on earth, rulled by man; the time that say “We are the voice/interpreters of God/ the gods, which means we have ultimate authority and none can disagree with us” This is generally bad because it makes church positions overlap with positions of power, which causes corruption as evil people to begin seeking to take high level church positions. Just look at what happened to the Catholic church as they gained more government authority. Instead of guilding people and studying the word, they began to use their influence to gain money, eventually making indulgences, monks went from humble scholars to feasters who amassed wealth (this is where the fat monk image comes from) and later, while colonization was driven by kings and merchants looking to make money, it was still rubberstamped by most of the church authorities of the time, leading to genocides and mass enslavement under the banner of the cross.

On a smaller scale, look at all the stories on here about small town pastors who claimed to have God’s authority and used that to abuse those in the community. They harmed and deeply traumatized people, and most of them that do leave wont even consider Christianity because thats who represents God in their minds.

Basically, participation in the Church should be voluntary, and overlapping church and earthly authorities prevents that. I think we should still strive for Godly institutions and governments, like a democratic country with mostly Christians should vote for government authorities and mandates that follow God’s will, like anti-abortion and taking care of the poor( though what “taking care of the poor” means and the best way to do it will always be debated and fought over)( i know the catholic church wasn’t technically a theocracy, and they have gotten alot better since the 1600s, but same power structures, and i didnt want to bring non-christain groups into this because we’re talking about this from a christain point of view, though they also fall into many of the same problems) (sorry about the theocracy rant, it got a little out of hand)

I love that whenever I bring up how gun toting Western Christians thinking they are entitled to violence because of their piss poor comprehension of the "sell your cloak and buy a sword" verse (by the same Jesus who 1) moments later literally shunned his apostle who tried to physically harm their enemies 2)healed said harmed enemy) are no better than Islamist terrorists, their reaction will either reflect

their deep seated cultural supremacism ("it's ok for me to murder for my faith because I'm more civilized than these filthy Arabs!")

their overall distrust of God in protecting their Life/physical integrity

that they are more attached this physical wicked world they spend their whole time seething against on their blog to the point of defending their existence down there even if that means sinning, than they will ever admit

Just try it, it just..... never fails. lol

[theparanormalperiodical]

6 Reasons Why The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) Is A Cult Classic

I think my brain just, like, flipped inside out. I always start my blog posts with like a snazzy little, everyday story and then make some mind-blowing connection to a huge, famous horror film that you weren’t expecting. Basically, I blow ya minds and then you guys keep reading.

But no. Today I am the one with the mind that is blown.

So, Tim Curry.

I’ve heard his name before ‘cause he played IT in the original TV miniseries, right? Well, I was shoooooketh to read that he played Dr Frank-N-Furter and thought “wow, this Tim Curry guy is an actual legend of horror. What else has this bloke done?”

Turns out Tim Curry is this guy.

I nearly died. No, sorry, correction: I did actually die a death. He’s a British actor I’ve seen hundreds of times, like, he’s one of those famous people you see a lot and you don’t know their name but ya just know ‘em.

Turns out he’s done hell of a lot, including Barbie in the Nutcracker, Charlie’s Angels and Home Alone 2.

But before all that, he starred in the original London cast and Roxy (Chicago) cast of The Rocky Horror Show (1973), and reprised the role of the sweeeeeet transvestttiiite in the movie version, The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975).  

And that’s what we’re talking about today.

It’s the longest-running theatre release in history with 45 years in the cinemas under its garter. There’s a reason it’s prevailed all these years, and hasn’t even let a pandemic stop it from doing the Time Warp. Well, there’s a few.

Today we’re talking about all the reasons Rocky Horror is a cult classic.

People started returning to theatres to watch it again

When it first hit the big screen in 1975, TRHPS was a flop. It was actually pulled from screens, to begin with. Lots of critics didn’t make unfair criticisms about the film - they often just said, “It belongs on a stage, with the performers and audience joining in a collective send-up.” Despite this, droves of people would fill up the cinema seats. And more often than not, it’d be people returning to see the film yet again.

The following year, at Waverly Theatre in NYC, midnight showings of the film began. It became one of the first ‘midnight movies’, a camp, crappy B movie often screened late at night. It amassed a raucous crowd mostly made up of the LGBTQA+ community, a group finding its voice shortly after the Stonewall riots of 1969. Soon, it found a fanbase among other “misfits” of the era.

These screenings became a safe space for the weirdos of the 1970s. A space they’d flock back to, often dressed up and armed with props to engage with the film in its entirety.

…and then they started interacting with the film

Returning to theatres was only one half of the Rocky Horror ritual - getting in the garb and acting out scenes alongside the big screen was key to making the film a cult classic. Performance groups even lip-synched to the tracks and acted out the dialogue of the film below the screen.

Another notable contribution was the audience calling out funny, alternative responses to the scripted lines. One of the first ‘audience participation’ lines was from a quiet teacher who, upon seeing Janet cover her hair with a newspaper in the rain, yelled: "Buy an umbrella, you cheap bitch!".

They’d throw toast, water and rice at the screen when the lines called for it - but soon, the cinemas banned this due to damage and clear up.

It’s meta and it’s magical

The Rocky Horror Picture Show was originally based on B horror movies. It even calls out the iconic films from the 1930s to the 70s in the opening song. The writer of the original play, Richard O’Brien, drew directly from the sci-fi and trashy films he grew up with, setting the genre against the backdrop of British Glam Rock.

He explicitly stated that "glam rock allowed me to be myself more", eluding to the theme of freedom and self-expression that made Rocky Horror what it is today. O’Brien actually went on to play Riff Raff in the film, the decrepit caretaker plotting to return to his home planet.

Christ, I’ve gone off topic.

Because the film was inherently based on these low-budget, badly-rated flicks, it didn’t take itself too seriously: it’s got in-jokes, it breaks the fourth wall, it parodies just about every horror cliche that preceded it.

It speaks directly to the audience, and, as we know, they liked to reply.

It was ahead of its time for the LGBTQA+ community - even if it’s still stuck in the 70s

In a post-Stonewall world, sexuality was finding its feet as a talking point. But Rock Horror wasn’t just gay - it was gender-neutral, too. The iconic red lips were voiced by a man and Frank N. Furter took pride in being a ‘transvestite’. Now, transvestite doesn’t mean trans. Normally, its’s when a person cross-dresses as a different gender even if they don’t necessarily identify as that gender.

These days, people who dress as another gender call themselves ‘cross-dressers’, but I’d still be wary of using this term.

It’s for the outcasts and the dreamers

The Rocky Horror Picture Show is certainly a messy film with a lot of genres, themes and ideas going on. But one of the most popular themes that survives the fishnets, the hit songs and the aliens from outer space is “don't dream it, be it”.

The fanbase that returned night after night were dreaming of a world like this - where it was okay to be different. In fact, different is good! Janet and Brad, our ordinary, straight couple destined to save themselves for marriage before moving into a 3-bed house outside of the city were the outcasts, here.

Dr Frank-N-Furter is technically a Disney princess

We end with an actual meme. As Disney+ (UK) now screens The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Dr Frank-N-Furter now counts as a Disney princess. In my world, anyway.

What’s your favourite Rocky Horror fact?

Let me know in a comment. And while you’re down there, make sure you like ‘n reblog. Want to see somethin’ spooky every Saturday?

Make sure you hit follow!

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: mentions of sex, suggestive conversations, fluff, fingering, soft smut

A/N: A little treat for the horndogs <3

"O-oh god! It's too big Nev, 's not gonna...c-can't-"

"Oh It's going to fit, don't worry pretty girl. Daddy's gonna fuck you so good. You want that, don't you baby?" He asked, cooing as she nodded frantically, tongue lulled out the side of her mouth. Neville had barely gotten past the tip before she began whining, crying about how big he was. He couldn’t help but lose control, shoving himself deep inside her, pistoning his hips at an ungodly pace. His eyes lingered on her chest, entranced by the hypnotic sway that they had due to his thrust. Pinning her hands to the bed, their eyes locked in an intense moment. 

“O-oh fuck princess, you’re so tight. You gonna cum? Hm? Gonna make a-”

“Nev?” he snapped up, a heavy gasp leaving his lips as looked to his side. (Y/n) sat there, a confused look on her face. “Are you alright? I think you were having a nightmare. You kept making a bunch of noises in your sleep!” he felt his face flush, clearing his throat as he looked away from her. His heart began to race as she climbed into his lap, turning his face towards hers. He looked at her, hoping his nerves weren't clear on his face. Due to the snickers he heard in the background, he was certain it was obvious to just about everyone but her what the issue was. 

“Hey um, petal, you might wanna move.” he whispered to her, trying to keep her hips from his troubled area.

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head once more as she moved back. Her eyes widened at the newfound breeze on her rear due to her skirt being lifted up. Not sure of what the cause was she moved back slightly, gasping at the feeling of something hard and long against her ass. Suddenly it all set in, he was- “O-oh. I’m sorry Nev.” she squeaked, quickly hopping from his lap. She smoothed down her skirt, clearing her throat as she eyed everyone in the room awkwardly. While the pair seemed flustered, the team couldn’t get enough of the interaction.

“Well I guess it’s clear why you’re the boss now.” Fred said, laughing as he motioned to the large tent in the man’s pants. George gave him a low five, joining him in his laughter as Neville glared at them all. Who were they to make him feel embarrassed? Standing up he adjusted the tent in his pants but despite his efforts, his dick was still prominent through his slacks.

“Poor (Y/n). She’s not gonna live to see another day after that thi-”

“Would you lot quit it?! When the fuck are we landing?” Neville growled at the bunch, causing the laughter to cease. Everyone knew what it was like to deal with an enraged Neville and that was the last thing they wanted. If the plane hadn't already landed, he’d shoot it right out the sky.

“We’ve actually just landed, boss. I was going to tell you before this little…situation that just occurred. Your bags have already been brought to the villa to ensure we have maximum time to scope out the museum.” Harrison said, giving the man a nod. He hummed, giving him a nod. “In the meantime, the city is yours to roam girls. We’ll be sending two men with you for your safety.” he snapped his fingers and two tall men appeared, their scary appearance paired with “tourist” clothing. What was supposed to be a disguise was just a funny sight of two muscle heads in brightly colored floral shirts. The (h/c) haired girl walked over to the leader, tugging on his sleeve some. He looked down at her, face softening at the pout on her face.

“Will we be able to spend some time together eventually? I know this is technically a work trip for you but I-I’d really like to spend time with you.” she said, making his heart melt. She never failed to make his heart burst, unreasonably cute without even trying. He had already planned on making time for her but now it wasn’t just something on his list, but his main priority. Stroking her cheek gently he put a soft kiss on her forehead.

“ ‘Course petal. In the meantime,” he leaned down sucking on the skin below her ear as he let out a chuckle, “Why don’t you go buy yourself something pretty for me?” her eyes widened but she nodded regardless, looking at him with a shocked expression as he pulled away. Before she could respond Twyla began to drag her, yanking her down the stairs of the jet.

“Come on babes! We’ve got some shopping to do.”

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“Was it really necessary to send them with us?” (Y/n) whispered, looking over her shoulder at the two large men that had been following them from a distance. “I mean, everyone’s looking!” she hissed, pointing to a group of people that were pointing and whispering to them. Twyla shrugged, a subtle skip to her walk.

“Just means we look important! You worry too much, babes. We’re on an expense paid trip to Italy and we don’t have to pay for any of these clothes? There could literally be an angry mob after us and that still wouldn’t kill my mood!” she sighed, still noticing the girl’s tense mood. “Plus, Neville would want you to enjoy yourself. Speaking of him…” she grabbed the girl’s hand, walking into the lingerie store on the left. She looked at her confused.

“Why are we here? Nev already bought me underwear.” she asked, following Twyla as she began to grab different sets off the racks. Another layer of confusion was added on when she noticed that she wasn’t grabbing her own size. Twyla let out a snort, throwing the small pile that she had somehow amassed into her arms.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re telling me after today’s little ordeal that you haven’t noticed? Your hottie has definitely been thinking of banging your brains out.” she said, giggling at the girl’s bashful expression. “I’m only telling the truth! And judging by your reactions, you’ve been thinking about it too.” she pondered her words for a moment. It wasn’t not not true. She most certainly had thought about Neville in more unsavory ways. Even before their reuniting, (Y/n) always thought about him as she attempted to get herself off, imagining they were his hands touching her bringing her to a well deserved climax. However anytime she’d get close, she’d become overwhelmed with the thought that what she had been doing was shameful. Masturbating to her old crush from school? What could be more dirty?

“I-I guess I have thought about it once or twice..” she admitted. “B-but I don’t have the balls to just walk out in something like this! What if he laughs at me?” Twyla gawked at the girl, blinking repeatedly. She could not believe her ears.

“Are you kidding me?! The only sound that will be leaving that man’s mouth is the sound of him telling you to get on your knees.” she responded, turning back around to look through the racks for more. “Plus, it’s not like you have to pounce on the man. All I’m saying is wait for the right time, maybe after a nice dinner or something then boom, whip out the goods. You’ve got everything to gain and nothing to lose. If that’s all then let’s check out then go get massages! I’m making you pamper yourself this trip. Merlin knows you need a break.”

(Y/n) was thankful for Twyla’s pep talk knowing the blonde was right. Neville would like anything she did; it was just a matter of when she should do it.

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And pampering they had done. (Y/n) and Twyla had been to just about every ritzy spot Italy had to offer them. After their shopping trip, the taller girl had taken them to get massages. It was funny how the masseuse instantly knew it was her first time from the abundance of knots in her back and when the man was done? She was most certainly an inch taller! They also had gone for manicures (despite having done that a few days ago..). Being bold she decided to get a set out of her comfort zone which she was beyond satisfied with. But the hot Italian sun combined with all the running around had tired her out, resulting in the driver bringing them to the villa.

The villa wasn’t as big as Neville’s second manor but was still insanely big. After the bodyguard had carried her bags to her room for her, she climbed into the brand new silk robe she had gotten, laying on the bed drinking the smoothie the maid had gotten for her. It was nice, just being able to relax. Throughout her years of working, (Y/n) rarely took off days. A lot of the time she’d even cover shifts for employees that couldn’t make it and even when the bakery was closed she would come in, fixing things up and tidying up mindlessly. Numerous times Twyla had caught the girl there when she wasn’t supposed to be and forced her to go home out of concern for her health.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of the bedroom door opening, widening with enthusiasm as she saw the tattooed man in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Hopping up she ran over to him, jumping into his arms which he gladly accepted, holding her tightly. “I missed you.”

He smiled, setting the flowers down to hold her better before placing a soft peck to her lips. “I missed you too, love. I left early so I could spend some time with you.” his eyes moved to the bags in the corner of the room, chuckling at the large pile. “I’m guessing your shopping trip was successful?” she felt her face heat up at his lack of knowledge of the lingerie that lay within one of them.

“I guess you could say that. Come, come! I wanna relax with you.” she began dragging him over to the bed, straddling him once he was situated. They sat in a comfortable silence with Neville holding the girl close to his chest, just appreciating the closeness he had with her. Since they’re reunion, every intimate moment, be it sexual or not, had been interrupted by some instance where he was needed somewhere else. He hadn’t been able to spend nearly as much time as he wanted with her but now he had her all to himself. His hands rubbed at her back gently until he got bored, deciding to test the waters. He knew it’d take a while before they’d get anywhere near what happened in his dream but he was willing to wait. He’d do anything to be able to touch her, feel her in a way that was less than innocent. As he gripped at her ass with one hand he brought the other one up to her cheek, cupping it as he pulled her into a deep and sensual kiss.

She gladly accepted, kissing back as she brought herself closer to him, playing with the bits of loose hair at the base of his neck. He began to nibble on her lip before pulling away, trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck. A mewl sounded from her, causing him to pull away slowly. Gripping at her waist above her robe, he gazed into her eyes intently. “You wearin’ anything under here?” he asked, watching as she looked down, shaking her head. “No? God you’re making it so hard for me to not just fuck you right here.” he sighed some, reaching for the ties on her robe. He stopped, looking at her once more for confirmation. She nodded frantically before stopping, feeling slightly embarrassed from how eager she was. With one soft tug, her robe was undone revealing her soft supple breast which he instantly went for. With his lips wrapped around one he began to lick and suck at the other, both of them moaning in unison. After a while of him teasing her sensitive nubs she began to grow impatient, rocking her hips against his gently as she let out a soft whimper.

“P-please..” she moaned breathlessly, not too sure of what she wanted. All she knew was that she wanted something, anything. Everything he did had her near her edge, from his kisses to his tongue and she needed to feel more. Pulling away he looked at her, thinking for a moment before pulling the two of them up.

“I wanna try something,” he said, positioning in front of the mirror. “He pushed back the fabric of her robe, putting her pussy on full display. His pants tightened at the sight of her glistening folds which she avoided in the mirror. Neville gripped her chin gently, positioning it to look at her bits in the mirror, chuckling at her wide eyes, pupils fully blown with arousal. With his other hand, he began to massage up and down her thighs. He watched as her legs grew weak, shaking with anticipation. Trailing his fingers near her sex, tracing small patterns on the inside of her thighs. 

He patted the side of her cheek with two fingers, pulling her attention away from herself to make eye contact with him through the glass. “Open up.” he whispered, small praises of approval leaving his mouth as she did. He took his thick digits, slowly pushing past her kiss stung lips. His eyes watched in the mirror as they entered her wet little mouth, groaning at the feeling of her soft tongue gliding along the underside of them. Pushing them a little further, she gagged, eyes tearing up. She looked so pretty with tears in her eyes, already fucked out before he had even put them in. It was hard to tell who wanted it more at this point but as Neville finally slid a finger into her folds, it was obvious. Hot tears fell down her face, already overwhelmed from it all. Pumping his finger in and out, his eyes flickered between her fucked out face and her pussy, juices already coating her thighs. Moving his face to her neck, he began to suck and kiss on her neck.

(Y/n) was becoming more and more desperate by the moment. She had subconsciously begun to play with her tits, rubbing and tugging on her nipples. “M-more, Nev please!” she begged to which he instantly complied, sliding another finger in. He began to work her open more, scissoring and stretching his fingers inside of her. Once her muscle had relaxed once again, he began to speed up his moment, the heel of his palm creating a slapping noise each time it’d meet her pussy.

“Merlin, baby, you’re soaked. Your messy little cunt’s just eating my fingers.” he purred out, chuckling deeply as he felt her clench at his words. Who knew his pretty little princess would get worked up so easily, slowly reaching her peak just from a few fingers and words? He used his other hand to rub at her clit, causing her knees to buckle, falling back onto him for support. He loved how much she relied on him, becoming a needy mess just for him. He curled his fingers up, aiming for her spot until he found it causing her to let out a loud cry, gripping onto his arm tightly. Neville watched as her face scrunched up, tears streaming down her face.

“N-need to….need ta….O-oh god Nev! I’m gonna-” before she could finish her eyes widened before snapping close, head falling back onto his shoulder as she rutted her hips against his fingers, whimpering as she rode out her high. He continued to rub at her clit, fingering her cunt until she began to whine, pushing him away. He smirked some, admiring her fucked out expression in the mirror. Her eyes were shut, pants  puffy lips. He licked his lips at the sight of her cunt, sensitive and fucked out, messy and cum covered from her orgasm. As he pulled his fingers out, he had to stop himself from letting out a string of curses at the way her cream began to run hot down her legs along with the bit that had gathered on his fingers. Lifting them to his face he wasted no time, sucking and licking on them. He moaned softly, continuing to clean them thoroughly, not stopping until the only thing that remained was the salty taste of his own flesh.

“You look so pretty when you cum, flower.” he muttered, smiling as the girl just let out a soft ‘mhm’, half asleep and barely able to process his words. He took off her robe, lifting her up as he began to carry her to their private bathroom, letting out a content sigh at the events that had just happened. Although he hadn’t been able to get off himself, he was more than happy being able to just please her. 

Afterall, it was what he wanted more than anything, to have his flower live in absolute happiness and pleasure.

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[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

Daenerys Stormborn, Part 2: Wake the Dragon

Oh hey, I have part 2 already! Guess my brain is really focused on Dany now. In part 1, I talked about Dany's arcs from AGOT to ASOS, exploring the narrative and thematic purpose of her journey. However, the most important part of her journey occurs in ADWD, and sets the stage for some incredibly exciting developments to come in TWOW. For part 2, I'll be talking about the gradual transformation of Daenerys into a slightly different, darker character for the future.

Breaker of Chains & Mhysa

Slavery has been an important background element throughout Dany's time in Essos, even in AGOT, but it becomes front and centre in ASOS. She accepted the Dothraki, a society that uses slaves for many things, and wasn't too perturbed at the use of slaves in Qarth. However, it is in Astapor where she finally realizes just how bad the institution is, as she tells Xaro:

"Whence came this madness? Should I count myself fortunate that you did not free my own slaves when you were my guest in Qarth?" I was a beggar queen and you were Xaro of the Thirteen, Dany thought, and all you wanted were my dragons. "Your slaves seemed well treated and content. It was not till Astapor that my eyes were opened."

As mentioned last time, ASOS is when she begins to take control of her destiny, and she does so by beginning a revolution to free the slaves of Slaver's Bay. She believe she has a greater destiny lying ahead of her, that there is a reason for her dragons, the red comet. She also has great empathy for people and sees this disturbing injustice being played out with nobody to stop it. But she has the power to do so, and thus she begins by going fire and blood at Astapor, killing the Good Masters and freeing all the slaves. Afterwards, she leaves the city with a ruling council of a priest, a scholar, and a healer and moves to Yunkai.

She does a different approach with Yunkai, negotiating with the Wise Masters to surrender their slaves and to leave them in peace. And then when she arrives at Meereen, she decides to stay and rule as its queen. This is where things begin to get difficult for Daenerys. The ruling council of Astapor is overthrown by a butcher named Cleon, who said the council was conspiring to bring back slavery, who declares himself King of Astapor, enslaves the children of the former Good Masters to make new Unsullied, and tries to ally with Daenerys against Yunkai, who has resumed slavery.

Daenerys is not interested in any war with Yunkai. The reason she stays in Meereen is exactly because she learned what happened when she left Astapor. The fire and blood approach didn't work. You can't just dismantle such a deeply engrained system so easily. So instead she opts to rule, and protect the people she can. While a lot of readers view Dany's actions in Meereen as pointless, the whims of a naive girl, and poor leadership, I actually think it's the opposite.

For starters, Dany realized that she can't simply burn the slavers to end slavery, but she needs to stay and instill changes. While King Cleon repeatedly begs for Daenerys to join the war against Yunkai, she refuses, and warns Cleon to not do such a thing. She turns out to be horribly right, as Cleon is killed, Astapor is sieged, before being slaughtered, burned, and sacked, to be reinstated as a slave city once more. Likewise, the Yunkish siege Meereen, first by creating a blockade in the bay with ships, and then by having armies amassed outside the city walls.

In addition, refugees from Astapor begin to pile up outside the city, and a deadly plague called the pale mare (for the horse from Astapor that arrives at Meereen) begins to sweep the starving Astapori freedmen, who begin to resort to cannibalism to survive. Dany blames herself for leaving Astapor a mess, but does not wish to have the same thing happen in Meereen. She wants to protect the people she's freed, not just from the Yunkish, but herself as well.

When a sheepherder brings the burned bones of his daughter, Hazzea, who was killed by her dragons, Dany has Rhaegal and Viserion chained in the dungeons below the Great Pyramid to prevent them from causing any more harm. However, Drogon is still loose, unable to be found. In addition, when the sons of the harpy, a terrorist group opposed to the emancipation of Meereen, begin massacring freedmen, Dany decides to raise a tax on the Great Masters and have all families of suspect loyalty send a child to serve as a hostage and cupbearers. Yet, as the killings continue, she has grown close to the children and decides not to have them killed.

Now, some of you may notice that I am taking a lot from the Meereenese Blot essays written by Adam Feldman. That's not only because they are really well written essays, but ones that GRRM himself has approved of.

"I read those when someone pointed them out to me, and I was really pleased with them, because at least one guy got it. He got it completely, he knew exactly what I was trying to do there, and evidently I did it well enough for people who were paying attention."

So I am retreading some of the ground Feldman has laid, but it's important to do so if I am to build up to what I think is going to happen in the future of Dany's story.

As Feldman notes, Dany's own actions (or in the case of the cupbearers, inaction) actually made a peace possible, because the Yunkish saw that she was someone who is capable of mercy and not a (in their eye) violent mass murderer. Knowing what happened with Astapor, and seeing what happens when her dragons are unleashed with Hazzea, Dany decides to make peace with the Yunkish and marry Hizdahr.

Under the peace, Meereen itself would remain a free city, but the Yunkish would continue to sell slaves. They even sell them in markets outside the walls of Meereen, which displeases Daenerys extremely. In addition, slaveowners could bring their slaves into Meereen without fear of them being freed, and the Yunkish promised to respect the rights of the freedmen in Meereen. Yet, despite the peace and the progress made, she feels as though this is a defeat.

This is peace, she told herself. This is what I wanted, what I worked for, this is why I married Hizdahr. So why does it taste so much like defeat?

The thing is, Daenerys has had to sacrifice so much of herself and her morals to get to this point. Yes there is peace, even if it is tentative, Meereen would not be sacked by the Yunkish, but slavery is still going on, and she thinks that she has let herself and other people down by agreeing to peace and allowing the Yunkish to continue slavery. She has agreed to peace to people she loathes and thinks are despicable, she has married a man she does not love and does not love her, she has chained her dragons in the pit below, she has allowed the fighting pits to reopen. This comes to ahead at Daznak's Pit when she is at the height of her discomfort.

The boar buried his snout in Barsena's belly and began rooting out her entrails. The smell was more than the queen could stand. The heat, the flies, the shouts from the crowd … I cannot breathe. She lifted her veil and let it flutter away. She took her tokar off as well. The pearls rattled softly against one another as she unwound the silk.

And then Drogon arrives, and in the chaos of him attacking the boar and being attacked by the soldiers in the pit, Dany tries to calm him, but he spits fire at her, and she tries to tame him by whipping him into submission. Here, Dany is quite literally fighting herself. She herself in this moment represents the Queen of Meereen, someone who desires for peace. Meanwhile, Drogon represents the dragon inside her, who wants to unleash blood and fire on her enemies. In the end, Dany climbs onto Drogon and they fly away together, which foreshadows and symbolizes Dany's later decision to choose being the dragon.

Despite her frustrations in Meereen, the peace was a good first step. Not to say that it solved every issue, it didn't, but that doesn't need to be the end of it. Daenerys could forge new peaces, new agreements, and if she stayed in Meereen, she could implement great changes throughout Slaver's Bay. But what is done is done, and cannot be undone. The peace that was forged is now gone. Next comes war.

The House with the Red Door

Before we move on to Dany's final chapter and what that means for the future, we must take a look at a very important part of her backstory which is one of the main elements of her own story. Sure, destiny, greatness, prophecy, power, and identity are themes with Daenerys, but at the center of it all is the desire for home. Dany was born on Dragonstone, but was whisked away to Braavos, and there she lived in the house with the red door, with Viserys, Ser Willem Darry, and their servants.

To Dany, the house with the red door was the only place in her life she called home, and she has very fond memories of it, of Willem, or the lemon tree. But after Willem died, they were kicked out and forced to become beggars on the streets, selling off their possessions and travelling the Free Cities. The red door was closed and gone forever after, but the dream of having a home hasn't.

Daenerys has a desire for home, for love, for family. Throughout her childhood, Viserys would tell Dany all about Westeros, how they need to take back the Iron Throne, that the Seven Kingdoms were the most beautiful lands in the world. And sure enough, soon, Westeros represents the idea for home and belonging to Dany.

"I pray for home too," she told him, believing it. Ser Jorah laughed. "Look around you then, Khaleesi." But it was not the plains Dany saw then. It was King's Landing and the great Red Keep that Aegon the Conqueror had built. It was Dragonstone where she had been born. In her mind's eye they burned with a thousand lights, a fire blazing in every window. In her mind's eye, all the doors were red.

Although she takes on the mantle as the new head of House Targaryen and carries on Viserys's dream of taking back the Iron Throne out of a sense of duty, she also does so for desire to belong in a place she can call home. It's a nostalgic feeling she gets of the old days, that she wants to relive again.

But then other ambitions get in her way. She frees the slaves of Slaver's Bay, and decides to stay in Meereen to try to ensure that her revolution succeeds. Thus, her quest for home is put on hold. Throughout ADWD, she gives up parts of herself, to try to become one with the Meereenese; marrying Hizdahr, reopening the fighting pits, chaining her dragons, dressing in the Ghiscari fashion, and making peace. But in the Dothraki sea, hundreds of miles outside Meereen, she finds that she wasn't being her true self, that she can never be the Queen of Meereen, or become a true Meereenese.

I must keep walking. Water flows downhill. The stream will take me to the river, and the river will take me home. Except it wouldn't, not truly. Meereen was not her home, and never would be. It was a city of strange men with strange gods and stranger hair, of slavers wrapped in fringed tokars, where grace was earned through whoring, butchery was art, and dog was a delicacy. Meereen would always be the Harpy's city, and Daenerys could not be a harpy.

The series is all about the human heart in conflict with itself, and Daenerys in ADWD is one of the best examples of that. She was struggling with her two competing titles of Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, but in the end she was not comfortable with being the Breaker of Chains. This final transformation she undergoes in the Dothraki sea really sets the tone for what she will do in the future, and how she will change as a person and character.

Mother of Dragons

Daenerys X is one of the more bizarre chapters in the series, since it follows only one character alone with her thoughts, but it works extremely well as a character study, and the development over the course of the chapter is one of my favourites in the whole series. Through all the hallucinations and visions and dreams Daenerys has during this chapter, it's important to remember that they all (apart from possibly Quaithe) are her, so the discussions she has are with her own internal thoughts directly.

The topic of Targaryen madness reoccurs throughout the series, but it's ADWD where it is brought up the most. Now, the topic of Targaryen madness will be another post i will do in the far future and won't discuss in depth today, but the matter is that Dany is aware of some of it, even if she hasn't fully accepted the truth of her father. She fears that she is succumbing to the madness at points.

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood in the door of the queen's bedchamber, a lantern in her hand. "Who are you talking to?" Dany glanced back toward the persimmon tree. There was no woman there. No hooded robe, no lacquer mask, no Quaithe. A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once.

Later, she implies this fear again to Barristan.

I lived in fear for fourteen years, my lord. I woke afraid each morning and went to sleep afraid each night … but my fears were burned away the day I came forth from the fire. Only one thing frightens me now." "And what is it that you fear, sweet queen?" "I am only a foolish young girl." Dany rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. "But not so foolish as to tell you that. My men shall look at these ships. Then you shall have my answer."

But in an early version of Daenerys III, the answer Daenerys gave was "myself". She fears what would happen if she "woke the dragon", as Viserys put it. She's afraid of succumbing to the madness that consumed her father and probably was consuming Viserys. She's afraid of what would happen if she unleashed her dragons, how many innocents they would kill. But in the Dothraki sea, she begins to question her decisions, starting when she woke up after finding blood between her thighs:

"I am the blood of the dragon," she told the grass, aloud. Once, the grass whispered back, until you chained your dragons in the dark. "Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …" Dany could not recall the child's name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away. "I will never have a little girl. I was the Mother of Dragons." Aye, the grass said, but you turned against your children.

The importance of this quote cannot go unnoticed. She thinks about Hazzea all the time throughout the book, feeling deeply guilty about what Drogon did to her. But here, at the end, she cannot remember her name. The in world explanation is that, of course, she is delirious from being in the wilderness eating berries and being sick, but thematically this is her slowly turning away from the people she freed. Next comes a dream with Viserys (long quote incoming):

She dreamt of her dead brother. Viserys looked just as he had the last time she'd seen him. His mouth was twisted in anguish, his hair was burnt, and his face was black and smoking where the molten gold had run down across his brow and cheeks and into his eyes. "You are dead," Dany said. Murdered. Though his lips never moved, somehow she could hear his voice, whispering in her ear. You never mourned me, sister. It is hard to die unmourned. "I loved you once." Once, he said, so bitterly it made her shudder. You were supposed to be my wife, to bear me children with silver hair and purple eyes, to keep the blood of the dragon pure. I took care of you. I taught you who you were. I fed you. I sold our mother's crown to keep you fed. "You hurt me. You frightened me." Only when you woke the dragon. I loved you. "You sold me. You betrayed me." No. You were the betrayer. You turned against me, against your own blood. They cheated me. Your horsey husband and his stinking savages. They were cheats and liars. They promised me a golden crown and gave me this. He touched the molten gold that was creeping down his face, and smoke rose from his finger. "You could have had your crown," Dany told him. "My sun-and-stars would have won it for you if only you had waited." I waited long enough. I waited my whole life. I was their king, their rightful king. They laughed at me. "You should have stayed in Pentos with Magister Illyrio. Khal Drogo had to present me to the dosh khaleen, but you did not have to ride with us. That was your choice. Your mistake." Do you want to wake the dragon, you stupid little whore? Drogo's khalasar was mine. I bought them from him, a hundred thousand screamers. I paid for them with your maidenhead. "You never understood. Dothraki do not buy and sell. They give gifts and receive them. If you had waited …" I did wait. For my crown, for my throne, for you. All those years, and all I ever got was a pot of molten gold. Why did they give the dragon's eggs to you? They should have been mine. If I'd had a dragon, I would have taught the world the meaning of our words. Viserys began to laugh, until his jaw fell away from his face, smoking, and blood and molten gold ran from his mouth.

The dream terrifies Daenerys, but once again, Viserys (really herself here) is telling her she is stalling in a place she doesn't belong, that she needs to go home, that she should embrace being a dragon. The climax of this comes right after she realizes Meereen would never be her home, where she argues with Jorah (again, herself):

Meereen would always be the Harpy's city, and Daenerys could not be a harpy. Never, said the grass, in the gruff tones of Jorah Mormont. You were warned, Your Grace. Let this city be, I said. Your war is in Westeros, I told you. The voice was no more than a whisper, yet somehow Dany felt that he was walking just behind her. My bear, she thought, my old sweet bear, who loved me and betrayed me. She had missed him so. She wanted to see his ugly face, to wrap her arms around him and press herself against his chest, but she knew that if she turned around Ser Jorah would be gone. "I am dreaming," she said. "A waking dream, a walking dream. I am alone and lost." Lost, because you lingered, in a place that you were never meant to be, murmured Ser Jorah, as softly as the wind. Alone, because you sent me from your side. "You betrayed me. You informed on me, for gold." For home. Home was all I ever wanted. "And me. You wanted me." Dany had seen it in his eyes. I did, the grass whispered, sadly. "You kissed me. I never said you could, but you did. You sold me to my enemies, but you meant it when you kissed me." I gave you good counsel. Save your spears and swords for the Seven Kingdoms, I told you. Leave Meereen to the Meereenese and go west, I said. You would not listen. "I had to take Meereen or see my children starve along the march." Dany could still see the trail of corpses she had left behind her crossing the Red Waste. It was not a sight she wished to see again. "I had to take Meereen to feed my people." You took Meereen, he told her, yet still you lingered. "To be a queen." You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros. "It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl." No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words. "Fire and Blood," Daenerys told the swaying grass.

And here is where everything changes. She has spent time trying to protect innocent lives, to make peace, not war, to be loved and accepted by Meereen. But here, she decides that it is time to do away with that. Meereen is not her home, Westeros is, and it's time to wake the dragon and burn Yunkai. No longer will she be burdened by the idea of a cost of innocent lives, no longer will she fear herself, and no longer will she linger. When the time comes, she will burn her enemies and leave for Westeros.

I need to make a few things clear here, however. For one, I don't think she's mad now, this is just her resolving her internal conflict. For another, I don't care what she does to the slavers. They deserve what's coming for them. She will still care about the innocent, but she's now going to go full-blooded Targaryen and burn cities to the ground, and this will mean massive collateral damage she will try to rationalize away.

Daenerys has now transformed into a different, much darker character, which I feel will continue to define her for the rest of the series. She is now the Mother of Dragons, in her entirety, and Essos is about to bleed and burn. I really appreciate how GRRM put this together, and that she didn't stay fire and blood after Astapor. His character development is realistic, and sometimes the development is not linear. In part 3, I will be discussing predictions about Daenerys's arc and story in TWOW, more specifically what she will do in Essos.

[thedragonnerd]

Rayaari headcanon - let's keep Disney magic with The Lion King AU

(inspired by this lovely anon)

To the people of Heart, Benja is their King, an admired ruler who is fair to his citizens and listens to their troubles. To Raya though, he is simply her father Ba, and one of her best friends.

Her mother passed away when Raya was young, but she has an uncle who lives at the palace. Raya can't actually remember his real name - his nickname has been 'Druun' for as long as she can remember.

The role of being a ruler does not particularly appeal to Raya at her young age. She much prefers to spend her time having adventures around Heart, much to the annoyance of her bodyguards.

Namaari is the Princess of Fang, Heart's neighbouring land and close ally. Raya has known her since they were babies, with Benja and Virana often holding diplomatic meetings. While these discussions are going on, Raya finds ways to drag Namaari into whatever important adventures she may find.

After one particularly chaotic visit to Fang, where Raya and Namaari had tried to climb out of the window in Namaari's room and ended up being caught on the roof instead, Benja wakes Raya early. He is determined to instill a sense of responsibility in her, and so he leads her up the great mountain in the darkness of the early morning. They arrive at the temple just as dawn is breaking, and together they watch the sun rise slowly across their lands.

'Over there is Fang,' he points to his right, and Raya peers into the distance. 'Everywhere the light touches is our land, Raya...our people of Heart. One day, the sun will set on my time here as leader, and rise with you as Queen instead. And you must be ready for it.'

Raya sweeps her gaze across the land of Heart, before it finally alights on a dark and shadowy speck on the horizon. 'What about that shadowy place?' she asks, intrigued. Benja grasps her shoulder tightly. 'That's beyond our borders, Raya, and into Spine territory. You must never go there.' The adventurous side of Raya can't help but be intrigued.

On her way back to the palace, Raya runs into her uncle, and can't help but mention this to him - interested to know if he'll share more information with her. 'Ah yes, the forests of Spine,' Druun mentions with a sneer. 'But your father is absolutely right! You must never go there, Raya. It's a beautiful land, covered with snow for much of the year, but only the most hardened of warriors can go there. It's far too dangerous for a little girl like you.'

Raya is both annoyed by the implication that she cannot face down a Spine warrior, and fascinated by the idea of the land's magical forests, which Heart children know only from stories.

Namaari and her mother are visiting Heart the following day, and Raya doesn't hesitate to grab her friend by the hand and drag her away from the adults. 'I have a really cool place to show you,' she whispers to Namaari.

They manage to evade their royal guards, and steal away after the midday meal, riding Namaari's serlot out to the borderland. When they slip across the boundary into a land of cold snow, tall trees, and a buzzing sense of magic in the air, Raya is entranced. She's so busy exploring her new surroundings that she doesn't notice the danger from three Spine warriors until Namaari tugs on her sleeve, an urgent 'Raya' hissed in her ear.

The Spine warriors are delighted to discover the children of their enemies standing right within their territory, and they attack before Raya and Namaari even have a chance to run. The two girls try to fight them off, but they don't have the skill to face down an entire group of adult warriors.

Suddenly, Benja and Virana arrive, alerted by an eagle-eyed scout, and fight back the Spine men with ease, dragging their daughters away. Once they are safely back in Heart territory, Benja turns his disappointment on Raya.

Virana takes Naamari back to Fang that very day, also angry at her own daughter. Raya feels terrible when she realizes Namaari could have gotten hurt or worse during their adventure, and can barely wave goodbye. Years later, she wishes she had hugged Namaari instead, not realizing it would be the last time she'd see her for a very long time.

A week later, Raya happens to cross paths with Druun, when he reaches out to stop her, sharp fingers digging into her shoulder. 'Your father's looking for you,' he says shortly. 'Something about wanting to train you to fight properly, after that Spine fiasco.' Raya is slightly hurt by the idea that she is a poor fighter, but she goes down to the empty training grounds to wait for her Ba.

Instead of Ba, she is set upon by an even larger group of Spine warriors, who have clearly entered Heart with deadly intent. She sprints back towards the palace, hearing their heavy breaths close behind her as she flees.

Benja flies past her in the other direction, sword already raised to meet them in combat. 'Raya, run!' he yells, and the fear in his voice makes her listen.

She turns back when she thinks she is at a safer distance, just in time to see Ba be kicked to the ground. One of the Spine warriors brings his blade swinging down, and she screams at the sight.

The invaders leave as soon as the deed is done, Benja lying prone on the ground. Raya stumbles over to him as fast as she can, ignoring the retreating backs of Spine for a moment. 'Ba?' she whispers, kneeling in the bloodied dirt beside him and grasping one of his hands. 'Ba? Please wake up.'

'Raya, what have you done?' Drunn says, appearing from behind her. 'Your little excursion into Spine must have brought them here for revenge. What will your people think...What will Fang think? You've just caused your father to be killed, and started a war.'

'I didn't mean to,' Raya sobs, dropping her forehead to rest on Benja's chest, with her fingers clenching at his clothes. 'What do I do?'

'Run,' Druun says. 'And never return.' Raya runs, still covered in her father's blood.

She can't bring herself to go to Fang; instead, she flees through Spine, narrowly avoiding their hunting parties, and then through Talon. It's only when she arrives in Tail, the farthest land she can be from Heart, that she can breathe properly. The heartbreak threatens to overwhelm her.

She's found in the midst of the Tail desert by Sisu, a loud but kind-hearted individual who immediately introduces Raya to the rest of her family, an eclectic group of outcasts in their own rights.

Years pass, and Raya makes herself a new home in Tail, alongside Sisu and the rest of her family. It's a simple life, and she does everything possible to forget her past, choosing to live always in the present instead.

During rare times where she does allow herself to reminisce, she can't help but miss Namaari fiercely as well as her Ba. She knows she will never see her friend again, but wishes they could have talked at least once more in life.

One day, Raya is out on a hunting trip, stalking her prey for a long time to find the perfect shot, when an arrow shoots out from behind her. Spinning around, she sees a beautiful young woman, carrying a crossbow.

'That was my dinner,' Raya says in annoyance, but the other woman just snorts. 'No way, binturi...this is all mine.'

The voice is so familiar, so Raya squints at her opponent for a second, before recognition suddenly springs to mind. '...'Maari?' she whispers, and she can see the moment Namaari recognizes her in return. She rushes to Namaari, who picks her up and spins her around before settling into an embrace, both of them talking excitedly over each other. 'I thought you were dead,' Namaari says, arms tight around Raya's waist.

Later, when they have calmed down, Namaari tells her she is on a mission to find food...and help. Heart is apparently in disarray, with Druun allowing Spine to bring in their own forces and use up many of the natural resources. Fang has held out against their desire for further expansion for now, but war between Heart/Spine and Fang is imminent.

'I will not let our people kill each other for the whims of a mad king,' Namaari tells her passionately. 'They are starving and desperate, and we need to find a way to remove Spine's influence from Heart. But Raya, this is perfect. You can return and challenge your uncle...Take your place as rightful leader of Heart.'

Raya feels sick to her stomach at the idea of returning to Heart, wanting more than anything to avoid facing her past and the blame that lies at her feet. But Namaari is a shining beacon in front of her, burning with a righteous passion about saving everyone. Raya never could say no to Namaari.

Raya and Namaari return together, riding side by side into the desolate wasteland that has befallen Heart, with Sisu and her siblings following not far behind. It hurts to be back home, especially seeing it in this state, and as Raya marches up the stairs to the palace, she draws strength from her anger.

'Raya, what a surprise to see you...alive,' Druun says, when she bursts into the throne room. His eyes glance towards the Spine warriors at his side.

'Uncle, stop whatever madness that has you waging wars against our allies, whilst our enemies now take from our lands as they choose,' Raya says, trying to appear strong, but Druun merely gestures his hand in order to amass his Spine fighters around him.

'I should have killed you and Benja with my own hands, rather leaving it to these imbeciles to do it for me,' Druun snaps, and then he is upon her with his sword. Raya fights back with everything she has, white-hot rage fueling her as she realizes what he means by those words.

But Druun is a seasoned warrior, with strong backup, and soon Raya finds herself surrounded.

'FOR HEART!' a yell sounds, and then Heart soldiers are streaming into the palace, accompanied by hundreds of Fang warriors, led by Namaari.

Spine soldiers are pushed back towards their own borders, although Raya pays little attention when she has Druun at the end of her blade. 'I should execute you for what you did to my father,' she snarls, but relaxes when she feels Namaari gently touch her shoulder. She watches instead as he is dragged away to prison, to await proper justice.

Heart is almost in ruins, her people hungry, desperate and lost, but Raya feels as if she can breathe again properly for the first time in years, just by being back.

There is a warmth by her side, and then Namaari is there, smiling down at her. 'Welcome home, dep la,' she says, and Raya reaches out to hold her hand.

[caspianjames]

BONUS Up And Coming: Julie and the Phantoms

Up and Coming: Julie and the Phantoms Jennifer McCreedy, Junior Correspondent 

On this month’s issue of Up and Coming I had the privilege of sitting down with one of America’s biggest up and coming bands, Julie and the Phantoms. Julie Molina (17), Reggie Peters (18), Alex Mercer (17), and Luke Patterson (17) began rapidly gaining popularity as YouTube stars last fall. They created music videos for songs they wrote themselves, editing them to appear as if the band were ghosts “popping in” behind Julie. Don’t understand what I mean? You can click here to check it out for yourself!

The band has a strong air of camaraderie, and it’s the first thing I notice when I walk into the room with them. They’re all piled on our big interview couch, Molina and Mercer are pressed together whispering. Patterson is bantering with Peters and flicks him in the forehead. They’re like any group of teenagers bordering on adulthood, excited and eager to please. It’s immediately apparent that to all of them, the band has a deep meaning of friendship and support. 

Of course, the first topic of conversation was about the band - what inspired the structure of their music videos, how they got their name, and which came first - the ghost music videos or the ghost band! 

“Since my mom died, my brother has really been into ghosts,” Molina explained to me. “It was actually his idea for the band to pop in like that. My dad does videography as his job, so he was able to help us film and edit. My best friend, Flynn Taylor, came up with the band name.”

The boys all laugh when I ask if they liked the name right away or if there were discussions before they went public with it. “Flynn doesn’t do discussions,” Mercer smiles at Julie like there’s an inside joke there. There probably is, seeing how close these four are. “They came up with the name and made us posters, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter before even asking us what we thought.”

“We loved it,” Peters is quick to jump in. “And we love Flynn. She knew we’d like it, or they wouldn’t have gone ahead with everything.”

Flynn Taylor, Julie’s best friend, doubles as the band manager - she is on tour with them, but opted not to be present for the interview. 

Since beginning their tour with Panic! At the Disco, all their videos have amassed over one million views each on YouTube and their music has been released on Spotify with startlingly quick success. Molina, I discovered, is actually the newest member of the band, although I would never have known from watching the four bandmates interact. She is also the youngest by a year, having just had her seventeenth birthday as the boys are all turning eighteen, but she holds herself with a quiet confidence that all the boys seem to look to. Even this early into the interview they defer to her to answer questions and look to her for reactions to their own answers. 

This made it especially surprising to find out that the band existed before Julie joined it, just under a different name. Sunset Curve. Clearly, it did not have the popularity that Julie and the Phantoms has even a few months into their creation. “We played a couple school shows and stuff,” Patterson told me, “but nothing clicked until we met Julie.” Luke Patterson carries a humming energy with him that comes across in his words. In true rocker fashion, he struggles to sit still, tapping his fingers on his thighs and softly bouncing on the couch. 

Unsurprisingly, Molina used similar words to describe the band’s first meeting. “The first time I sang with them at school we just clicked,” she says, smiling at Luke. 

Of course, given their success, I had to ask the question everyone wants to know. How did they end up opening for Panic! At the Disco, despite being relatively unknown outside the Los Angeles music scene previous to their debut at The Orpheum?

“We’ve seen some wild theories,” Mercer confides to me with a small smile on his face. He is arguably the most subdued of the group and generally seems content to watch his bandmates answer my questions. Don’t be fooled, though - not only is he a phenomenal drummer, he also sings backup vocals for Julie and the Phantoms. “My favouirte theory was one that caught a lot of steam on Twitter about us using ‘ghost powers’,” he adds air quotes with his hands and laughs, “to hide the scheduled opener’s tour bus and then pop into the venue in their place at the time they were supposed to perform.”

The whole band laughs at this - clearly it is a favourite theory amongst them. Peters adds, though, that it was clearly an unfounded theory given that “Julie doesn’t have any ghost powers, anyways. That’s why it’s Julie and the Phantoms. But I’d kill for ghost powers in real life.” When I ask what he’d use them for, though, he seems stumped. “I think it would just be cool to walk through walls.” We’re with you on that one, Reggie!

But what actually did happen to get them into the coveted opening spot at The Orpheum? Molina gives me a modest smile when I ask. “We were honestly just in the right place at the right time,” she explains. 

Patterson picks up the story from there with a little bit more flair, telling me that the opening band had actually gotten food poisoning - “from a street dog vendor, believe it or not” - and the manager of the Orpheum happened to be familiar with the Julie and the Phantoms YouTube page. 

“Since we were local,” Peters explains, “It was just a phone call. And then suddenly we were on stage doing a proper professional soundcheck for the first time in our lives.”

“Everything moved so fast after that,” Patterson adds. Each of his bandmates nod in agreement as he speaks. “We blinked and we were on a tour bus, suddenly.”

It seems that the band is handling the change well, though. 

“It’s definitely different,” Molina tells me. “We have to be responsible for our own school and make sure we’re turning in assignments on time. There’s a lot of driving and a lot of time to kill. We can get on each other’s nerves quite a bit, but there’s always a lot of time for songwriting, too.”

When I prompt her about who gets on who’s nerves, the whole band turns in tandem to look at Luke. He laughs and shrugs at me. “I’m an early riser,” he explains. “I like music in my hands twenty-four seven. I always have my guitar, but it isn’t always appreciated.”

“We’ve had to compromise,” Mercer says with a long-suffering sigh. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was the oldest of the group. “Luke isn’t allowed to start playing music until eleven in the morning the day after a show.”

As for being on tour with Panic!, none of them seem all too bothered by the fame of the headliners. “They’re really cool,” Peters explains to me. “They’ve been doing this a long time and they always have advice for us which I think we really value right now.”

Otherwise, though, the band seems to keep to themselves. When asked about their favouirte hobbies, Peters speaks at length about Star Wars. “I can’t watch the prequels before bed,” he says. His bandmates groan and shake their heads, although he seems unbothered. “Jar-Jar gives me nightmares.”

Other than Star Wars, “We try to make sure we get time and space for ourselves every day,” Molina says. “It’s a lot of us in a small space, and if we don’t get away from each other for a bit we argue a lot more.”

When I ask each of them who their favourite bandmate is to live with, all the boys say Julie and then turn expectantly for her answer. “I suppose Flynn doesn’t count as a bandmate,” she said with a sigh. “Probably Alex, but we live together normally so it’s not something that’s new.”

Mercer confirms this piece of information with a nod and a smile. “I prefer sharing a room with your brother to sharing a bus with you, though,” he says to Julie. She just rolls her eyes. 

When pushed, Mercer elaborates a little bit. “I’ve been living with Julie’s family for my senior year. It’s a better environment for me and is much closer to our school than where I lived. My parents are happy that it gives me more time to focus on school.”

Since I have Mercer’s attention now, I ask him a question I’ve been dying to know the answer to. Does he know what a role model he is to gay and questioning children and teens that get to see him be himself so publicly? 

As all the boys have been doing, he looks to Julie before answering. “I don’t think about it much, to be honest,” he says candidly. “If people think I’m a role model then I’m glad, but I’m just me. And being gay is part of me, a part of me that’s always been completely accepted by my band, just like my drumming or my singing.”

There was no tension, the band members explain, upon finding out about Alex’s sexuality. “No one was surprised when Alex came out,” Patterson adds. “We were only, like, twelve when he came out to us, anyway. It’s just a fact about who he is. Like, Alex is gay and hates mornings and I play the guitar and love mornings and we’re best friends.”

“Plus, I’m bisexual,” Peters adds, “So it would be hypocritical to have a problem with Alex.”

“I’m pansexual,” Patterson pipes up again. “And Alex being himself helped me figure out that part of myself.”

Molina doesn’t seem to have much to add. “Alex was already out when I met him,” she says. “It was never a surprise and someone’s sexuality shouldn’t be something that causes tension or makes people upset anyways.”

When I point out that it has seemed to cause some tension among fans, they all sigh. For unaware readers, the band has been stirring up quite the debate on Twitter and Instagram amongst fans and haters alike as to who is dating who. Patterson and Molina confirmed their relationship before going on tour and have been dating since before their band became popular. Recently, a Twitter user attending a Julie and the Phantoms meet and greet noted the closeness between Molina and Peters, causing fans to speculate that Molina is cheating on Patterson with Peters. When I ask if they'd like to address it, however, they all nod. 

“Luke and I have been dating for a few months,” Julie says, “very happily. Neither of us have cheated on each other, nor would we ever. But we’re both also dating Reggie.”

When I ask for clarification, Peters adds, “I’m dating Luke and Julie, just like Julie is dating me and Luke and Luke is dating Julie and me.” Although it doesn’t sound clear, it does seem to be clear for them. 

“We’d like people to give us our privacy, although we know that probably won’t happen,” Molina says. “We’re allowed to define our own relationships in the way that works for us, we don’t have to hold them up to anyone else’s expectations or preconceived notions of what a relationship should look like.”

When I ask if there’s anything they’d like to add before we wrap up, Patterson pipes up with a confident “Yes.” 

“We’re Julie and the Phantoms,” he says, prompting Peters to follow up with “Tell your friends!”

Tell your friends, indeed. You can find Julie and the Phantoms everywhere that Panic! At the Disco is playing for the next four weeks. 

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[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 7

Maul x Sith Reader 

Word Count: 3.3K

WARNINGS: 18+ Mentions of injuries, slightly jealous Maul, Unprotected sex, Inappropriate use of the force, force bond, self-deprecation

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      Your eyes didn't open right away. You could faintly hear Savage speaking with who sounded like a woman through a voice coder.

"She was much worse off than you two despite your loss of limbs. Cybernetics are easy but her oxygen was dangerously low. Her core temperature being lower than yours caused the hypothermia to be more extensive. We don’t have a bacta tank to drop her into. Hopefully the concentrated salve will do enough for her."

"When is she going to wake up?" Savage rumbled.

"I don't know big guy. I'm a medic not a fortune teller. All I can tell you is that she's alive... for now."

    It sounded like another presence entered the area and you recognized Maul's velvety rasp. One of his steps produced a light clinking sound.

"She will wake soon. Her mind is lighting up more than it has in the last two days."

Two days?! Oh fuck no.

    You groaned quietly hating the idea of being the weakest link in a chain of three. You practically forced your eyes open and hissed at the fluorescent lighting. Your muscles were stiff but you forced them to bend to your will and sit up.

"Whoa whoa whoa slow down there..." the female medic ran over to you clad in armor you recognized it instantly from the holo-net news.

"What are we doing with a Mandalorian?" You tensed as she checked your bandages and scanned you. Your eyes narrowed at Savage's new cybernetic appendage; memories of the last time you had seen them came flooding back. He was the one to answer you.

"They found our pod floating in space. Turns out they hate the jedi so we've allied ourselves with them. Maul has been negotiating with their leader while you’ve been healing." Say what you want about Savage but the man could summarize.

"Okay..." head still swimming it was difficult to take everything in. Pirates didn't work out but now Mandalorians are going to work with you? You're just along for the ride at this point.

    Maul had stayed a distance away from you with his hands clasped behind his back watching you intently. Turning his attention to the medic he hissed.

"Leave us so we may properly convey the details of our arrangement with my apprentice."

    Not daring argue with the Zabrak the woman stood and hurried out of the tent. Not daring to meet Maul's eyes as he watched her leave. He closed his eyes for a moment as if to reach out and ensure no one was around other than the three of you. Once he was satisfied with his assessment he strode to your side and immediately softened. He trailed his fingers down your face gently and pressed a tender, passionate kiss to your lips.

"I thought I had lost you twice over. First to those damned pirates and Kenobi, then to the unforgiving confines of the galaxy itself." He paused for a moment, staring seemingly into your soul while Savage shifted on his feet not knowing where to look. He never imagined his brother could behave like this before.

"Alas, the force works in mysterious ways. We have found powerful allies but I don't trust them. They can't know what it is you are to me. I will not give them tinder to light."

You nodded in understanding.

"So, what's the plan?"

    Maul took a step back and thought for a moment. Despite his care for you it was difficult to overcome a life of betrayal and deception. He quickly pushed these thoughts from his mind when he looked back to you. He took a seat on your cot and you could feel the cool metal of his new leg against your own.

"First, we must amass a larger army. Once we have their loyalty, we will aid the Death Watch in overthrowing the current ruler of Mandalore. After Vizsla takes the throne I am confident that he will bend to my desires one way or another. This group has much to offer, including a planet and they have no idea of our true intentions."

Your eyes lit up both with adoration and with excitement at the events to unfold.

"Yes Master, just tell me what to do."

"Can you stand?"

    You wiggled your legs although still sore from where you were shot, the bacta shots and salves had taken care of most of the damage.

"Come then, you must meet the leader of this clan."

    You rose to your feet and straightened your back with your head held high. You force pulled your sabers from a nearby table and hung them from your hips. Maul admired you as you made your way out of the tent. He silently wished he could've guided you out by your hand but again, he couldn't let them know how important you were to him; to everything. Instead, he settled for you walking on his right slightly behind him, Savage to his left as he led you both to the largest tent in the camp.

    Several Mandalorians casually sat at the tables laughing, eating and drinking while the leader sat at the head only a few guards were posted to your surprise. He was obviously distracted by something his second in command was saying. She was a slight woman, shoulder length red hair and a sneer plastered across her face that only deepened when her eyes fell on you.

"Someone's finally awake." She smirked.

"Awake indeed..." you trailed off meeting her eye contact unblinking until she scoffed and looked away. Your eyes gleamed in satisfaction and your gold eclipse swelled slightly, feeding off of her disdain. Savage stifled a chuckle. The only person you bowed to in any sense of the word was Maul. Anyone else you would make kneel before you and this attitude permeated in any room you entered.

    Your eyes shifted to the leader. He was tall, bald headed and was currently sizing you up with a satisfied look on his face.

"So, the dead rises on our moon." He stood and made his way over to the three of you.

"Only on momentous occasions. I believe I owe you my thanks for that."

    He took your hand in his leather gloved one and pressed his lips to your knuckles, trying to hide a disgusted look on your face you humored him.

"Pre Vizsla, leader of the Death Watch, future ruler of Mandalore." He introduced. An almost inaudible growl rumbled in Maul's chest. Almost inaudible.

"Y/N, apprentice to the great Sith Lord Maul,” you responded coldly.

"Well, we are happy to welcome you to our camp. I understand that you will be helping us take back our home world."

"It seems as though we will. A great warrior people, the current Duchess has all but castrated. Tis a shame really and a disservice to all Mandalorians. One that I would aid in seeing righted."

    He chuckled and continued to let his eyes dance over your form. The black romper you wore fitting tightly over your body, cleavage teasing and arms bare. Maul fought the sudden urge to take you there in front of all to see so it was known you belonged to him. His self-control overpowered his instincts and he continued to watch as Vizsla eyed you.

He really thinks she would stoop so low as to invite this man into her bed..

    He practically projected and you heard his words tingle in the back of your mind. You smirked knowingly.

I hold no attraction to men such as he. I'd much rather feel your horns scrape my thighs Master.

    Realizing you had heard him through the force, his eyes gleamed at your response to him. A warmth pooling in his groin and in yours.

"Drinks for our new friends!" Pre Vizsla called. The four of you took a seat at the head table and you listened with Savage as Maul discussed details of various plans with the leader.

    It wasn't long before the woman with red hair you've come to know as Bo Katan interjected standing behind your master arms folded across her chest plate.

"We've allied ourselves with Sith before. Dooku betrayed us. They're no better than Jedi."

    Thoroughly full of this woman and her insubordination you reached for your saber but before you could act, Maul was on his feet facing away from her with his hand raised to shoulder height. She dangled in the air grasping at a hand around her throat that she couldn't find. Your master growled furiously.

"Doubt will only lead to failure. Our combined strength will be rewarded. Mandalore will be yours, and Kenobi, this Sith pretender Dooku, and all our enemies will fall at our feet." He dropped her just before she passed out. Your arousal slicked your panties at the sight of him. Wetting your lips with a flick of your tongue in anticipation. The added bonus of your want was not lost your master.

Pre Vizsla looked enthralled with Maul's answer to Bo's accusation.

"I believe this alliance will be very beneficial."

Maker he didn't even have to look at her.... the way his voice growls and rumbles....

    You unknowingly shifted in your seat as you took another swing of whatever drivel they had served you.

Wait until you hear me roar little one.

    He answered in your mind sounding like it was whispered directly into your ear. A ghostly hand gripped the top of your thigh and dragged higher, just stopping before where you craved the touch to land. Your face tinged ever so slightly, easily falsely blaming the drink. After most of the warriors turned in for the night you were you shone to your private tent. Hours later only after you sensed everyone was asleep did you allow yourself to relax.

    You thought of Maul, how his scarlet skin shone in the lamp light, his tattoos a stark contrast to the rest of him. How the power had seemed to seep out of his pores. How he spat when Dooku's name left his lips. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth and playfully pinched at one of your nipples while your other hand reached down to your soaking core, teasing your clit through the cloth slowly.

    You heard him, a low rumble outside your tent before he entered. His eyes glowed, cutting through the darkness as they drifted over your still body.

"Eager tonight are we. It seems as though the lesson in patience hasn't stuck yet."

    You let out a breathy sigh at his words as your tongue darted out to wet your lips. You sat up as he sauntered over to you. Barley a silhouette in the darkness. A low rumble deep in his chest as his lips met yours with a needy passion. He buried one hand in your hair the other on your back pulling you closer to him. You gripped his shoulders eliciting a groan as you trailed your fingers down his arms. He pulled his lips away from yours and pressed his forehead to yours lovingly.

    You felt his presence in the edges of your mind as if there was a light wrapping on a shuttered window. You smiled into him. You were willing and wanting to follow this man to the ends of the galaxy long before you had started to fall for him. His hard exterior a stark contrast to the man now asking permission for entry. When you allowed him in, it felt so much fuller than what you had experienced with the fleeting vocal blurbs you had exchanged. He was warm and all encompassing. Despite his knowledge and practice with the dark side he was incredibly light and deep. Not unlike a sunset just before the sun slipped below the horizon, that last final burst of light. Surrounded by the night. So that's who your master was. A candle in the darkness at his core.

    He shuddered at the connection, never having delved and melded with someone like this. It had always been harsh, seeking, painful with the intent to extract something. With you, he just wanted to feel what was in your heart and his breath hitched when he found himself within it. He pulled back slightly. His habit to deny his desires, to deprive himself of any semblance of affection threatening to take over. You couldn't allow this and reached back out to him while your hands snaked around the back of his head, tracing the base of his horns and pressing your lips back to his.

    He quivered and moaned against your mouth as you projected your image of him into his mind. Where he couldn't deny or shy away from your beaming adoration and gratefulness. You teased the bottom of his lip with your tongue now asking him for entry. He parted his lips so you could deepen the kiss. You pulled him back so you lay on the bed with him on top of you, weaving your legs around his hips.

    You showed him how your heart fluttered when he commanded the room. How your chest swelled when you caught him candidly reading a data-pad peering over the rim of his glasses or stirring his caf. How lying in his arms on the ship eased muscles in your body you didn't know you had. How he was your strength, your motivation and your safety.

You felt hot wet droplets drip onto your cheeks but saw nothing in the lightless tent.

I've never made anyone feel safe before his voice tinged in your mind.

I've never felt safe with anyone before.

    Your tongues glided across one another's and you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, releasing it with a light 'pop’ as he whimpered against you. He sat up to slip off his tunic and pull down the top half of your garb. His mouth hot, flushed with your neck as he nipped and teased.

I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to have you like this.

It's not your choice that I give myself to you. Only if you accept it.... I pray you do..

    You swirled your tongue around the base of the horn that grew from his temple. He stifled a sob at the sensitivity and trembled. Letting you explore this feeling for only a moment before his attentions drifted further down to one of your perked nipples. He rolled his tongue across one and lightly pinched the other. You bucked your hips up into his while your breath hitched, the need for friction becoming desperate. This intimacy and careful caresses almost being enough to pull you over the edge as a knot formed below your belly button.

I hear you; I feel your desire. I will make you see stars. I'll take care of you.

    He continued his slow journey down your body, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered, sucking bruises into your flesh. He slipped the rest of your dress off and threw it to the side leaving you fully exposed to him. He took a full minute that felt like hours taking in the sight of you spread out and breathing heavily for him.

You're so beautiful...

    You gasped as his hot breath hit your cunt. Inhaling your arousal, you felt something switch in him. The predatory nature of his species dancing in the background of his mind. His bestial habits and desires bred into him through generations. You fought the urge to cry out when he delved his wet muscle into you, dragging it up your folds and encircling your swollen clit only to repeat the process. His ivory horns running gentle tracks across the sensitive skin of your thighs. He cupped a breast in one hand and pinned your hips down with the other as you white knuckled the sheets.

Fucking sublime. You're soaking wet darling. All for me.... mine... mine..

He slipped two of his thick fingers into your core. You trembled as he slowly pumped them in and out of you, slightly curling them when he was knuckle deep.

Maker... master I- I can't take it... you're gonna make me...

Call me by my name when I make you cum.

    That was all it took to make you come undone over his face and hand as you trembled you whispered his name aloud like a prayer with shaky breath into the cool night air. He pulled away from you, removed his trousers and returned to your lips. Your breath still unsteady against him. You could feel his massive cock teasing your dripping sex running his ridges through your soaked lips across your overstimulated clit. Properly lubricating himself with your pleasure. You shuddered with an excited anticipation and begged him verbally with bated breath

“P-please Maul... I need to feel you... inside me.”

    A deep guttural vibration rumbled in his chest at your submissiveness. He lined his blunt head at your entrance and eased into you slowly one ridge at a time. You both gasped at the overwhelming sensation. Slowly he pushed into you until he had sunk to his hilt. He returned to your neck, sucking dark bruises into your flesh while you adjusted to his size.

Maker I... I've never felt so full! So good... feels.. so good...

    Quivering at your praise he dug his hands into the pillow behind you as he nipped at your swollen lips. A few moments passed before you started rutting your hips against him, begging him to move. He growled again while he obliged your silent wish. He started his thrusting slowly. Pulling almost all the way out before sheathing back inside you. The feeling leaving both of you breathless and desperate.

    That predatory instinct within him grew as his pace quickened. You pulled his hand to cover your mouth to stifle your sobs. Every single rut hitting something deep inside you that no lover had ever reached before.

Harder... faster... more.... you were begging as that knot in your belly started to form. It was a sinful and overwhelming feeling, being fucked so well by your master. He hitched your legs up higher on his hips throwing your ankles over his shoulders and folding you in half; allowing him even deeper entry.

You're so good for me little one.... taking my cock so well... so fucking tight and wet for me... mine. All mine..

    His thrusts became more erratic and uneven, you could feel him throbbing inside you. Every rut, he whispered in your ear possessively "Mine."

Maker you were ruined for anyone else ever again at this point. Your climax threatened to crest and your eyes rolled in the back of your head when he took it straight from your core pressing a hand over your mouth to stifle the scream that ripped itself from your throat.

    Crying out repeatedly into his palm you clenched and fluttered around his pulsating cock. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder and roared animalistically as he coated your insides with his hot seed. He thrust into you a few more times while you both trembled. Coming down from your mutual highs.

“I will serve you the galaxy on a silver platter my dear. I will lay the power of the very universe at your feet if it means you'll stay by my side.”

You kissed him sweetly in response.

All I want is you...

    He shivered at your answer and slipped out of you. He gently cleaned you with a spare sheet and cast it aside. Gathering you up into his arms he lay down on the cot and held you close. Stroking your hair until you fell asleep in the strange camp. Caught between a near death experience, your galaxy shattering orgasms and the promise of vengeance against the jedi who rejected you; you slept weightlessness on your lover's chest.

[nightowlwriting]

summary: nott is not very kind to herself. you love her, but you know that she has someone that she sends package after package to. you won't get in the way of that but you will be kind to her in a way that she understands. (part 7/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of discrimination because nott is a goblin, insecurity

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Loving Nott takes a special kind of person. You are that kind of person.

When Mighty Nein first formed, you had kept yourself back and just observed everyone. The ways they acted, how they spoke, different intergroup interactions. You like to know who you’re traveling with and, somewhere along the way of getting to know everyone, Nott wormed her way into your heart. You don’t care that she’s a goblin, don’t care that she’s threatened to kill everyone except Caleb several times over seriously at least half of those times. You don’t care what she could have done to be thrown in jail. (Half because you know she’s a good person, and half because you know that it’s most likely just because she’s a goblin.)

Mostly, you don’t care for the way that Fjord looks down on her for stealing. You’d watched her seal everything she stole up once, and mail it away, so you know it’s not for you. She’s stealing for someone else until she has enough to justify spending the mailing cost to ship it to them. The night you realized this, you cried yourself to sleep. The force of her love for this unknown person had hit you fully in the chest, and you cried for hours. Over the months of getting to know the Mighty Nein, you’d also come to know how they loved.

It was at that moment, crying yourself to sleep, that you realized that Nott loved with her entire body and soul but didn’t know how to show it any other way than stealing things, baring her teeth, and sinking into her flask. Most of that probably came from being a goblin in a place that looked down upon them, like they were vermin rather than people. How long had she gone without kindness? How many times had she flinched away from casual touch since you’d known her? Your heart aches for her because you know that she hates herself, hates the body that she’s stuck in, and hates the way the world sees her.

By the Gods, you realize one day, she’s not even kind to herself. The Mighty Nein might be the first group of people that were wholly nice to her, and even then there was still tension because of her habits. You wonder if Caleb was the first person to be kind to her ever and have to turn your head away from your friends at breakfast to hide the way that you’re beginning to cry at the thought. But you’re lucky because it’s a shopping day. Shopping days were becoming more and more common the more money you guys got for your mercenary work - more coin to spend, more upgrades to your weapons.

For you, today, it meant more time alone. That’s exactly what you needed to put your plan into place. After breakfast you take off on your own, fumbling with your bag so that Caleb and Nott don’t notice that you’re following them to the shops they go to. The plan is last minute, a way to show Nott kindness and appreciation in a way that she’ll not only understand but hopefully appreciate.

You hum a jaunty tune as you follow them, staying about a shop back, and watch Nott as she flitters around Caleb while he shops. Every now and then, she’ll pick something up and observe it. A jar of mismatched buttons, a children’s book, a doll that is missing one arm but has a funny little top hat. You know she thinks about taking each of them and, every time Caleb stops her from doing so, she counts out her coin to see if she can afford it. Nott cannot afford any of them - last night she’d been determined to buy everyone a round in the bar and had burnt through most of the last payment you all had received. You had watched her do that, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to buy anything.

That’s why the plan had fallen into place as well as it could for a plan made over breakfast in your head while you were juggling conversations.

Nott deserves nice things. She deserves kindness - she deserves kindness in a way that she will understand and not be able to misinterpret. Her life has been so hard and she has been so unhappy in the past. You just want to make her happy. Want to be the one to give her that kindness, the ability to send her packages filled with love without burning through all of her cash. You want to love her without telling her how you love her because you’re definitely not ready to tell her that.

Besides, who’s to say the packages aren’t going to a lover?

So instead of pulling her into your arms, instead of telling her all of these things and being upfront with her, you use your shopping day to inadvertently show her and tell her all of these things.

Once Caleb and Nott leave the shop they’re in, you duck into it. You snatch up the buttons, the children’s book, the doll with the funny little hat and you buy them. They’re pricey for a consignment shop, but you hand over most of your coin and put your treasures into your bag before heading back to the street. You’re not too worried about being essentially out of money because, well, it takes a certain kind of person to love Nott. You are that kind of person. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have money, because you’re not above stealing to make her happy. You would do anything to make her happy.

The day continues and you amass a lot of things to give to Nott. When you get back to the tavern and retire to your room, you’re still on the fence about whether or not you want to give them to her in person or in secret. When you think about the pressure receiving so many gifts will put on her, you decide to give them to her in secret. Of course, it’ll be too obvious if you stretch out the gifts over weeks or months. She’ll eventually be able to figure out that it’s someone in the group and, eventually, she’ll figure out that it’s you. Nott is very smart., no matter how much she would like to pretend she is not. You empty your bag and pack everything into it, another plan falling into place as the sun goes down.

Jester comes to announce that they are going to go downtown for dinner and you brush her off. “I have a headache,” You say, scrunching up your face to make it believable as you stand by the door, “I think I’m going to take a nap and eat something here before bed.”

She worries for you, offers a spell to make you feel better, but you brush her off. “Not when you’re going downtown,” Is your excuse, “I want you guys to be prepared always. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you wasted a spell on me and then something happened.”

“Makes sense,” Jester nods. Her eyes are wide and trusting and, honestly, you almost feel bad for lying to her. “I will come and check in on you when we arrive home!” She kisses your cheek and is off. You stand at the door for a minute more, turning to shut yourself back into your room when Caleb and Nott pass you. The bag heavy on your hip burns like she’s going to be able to look at you and see what you have for her.

“Are you not joining us?” Caleb asks, brows furrowing. Nott looks up at you with almost the same expression and you almost give in. Almost join them for dinner, just so the worry on Nott’s face goes away. You hold your ground.

“No, I have a headache,” You repeat your lie, “I’m just going to bunk down for the night after I get a snack downstairs.”

Nott reaches for your hand. “Well, Jester can heal you.” She says, “So that you’re not in any pain.” You smile at Nott and hope you’re not blushing at her care for you.

“Ja, or perhaps I could try.” Caleb shrugs. “Healing magic is complicated, sicher, but I can figure it out.”

“I’m okay,” You squeeze Nott’s hand, and she squeezes back. “It’s nothing big and, besides, we wouldn’t want to make our little cleric jealous when you learn how to heal, ja?”

“But you are hurting,” Nott shakes her head, “You shouldn’t just let yourself hurt when there’s a way to fix it.” Her words carry more weight than maybe she intends them to and you find yourself almost crying again.

“Nott, I promise you it’s not that bad,” You smile and squeeze her hand again, hoping that your hand isn’t becoming clammy, “I’ll get something small and then sleep it off.”

“I will come check on you when we get home.” She says, finally taking her hand back only to wring it nervously in front of her. “And Caleb didn’t put the string spell on our room, so if you want to go lay down in there, you can. We’re sharing with each other and I’m sure that Beau is going to challenge Fjord to another drinking contest. She’ll be loud when she comes back to your room.” Caleb sniffs and you know that she hasn’t run that past him.

“Thank you, Nott,” Your throat is clogged with emotion but you decline. “I hope that by the time you come back I’ll be better.” You feel sort of bad lying to your friends, but it’s for a good cause. (Also you reason with yourself that if you don’t feel bad about stealing those things for Nott, you shouldn’t feel bad about lying so that you can sneak into her room and hide the treasures amongst her things for her to find.) So you lie. You let them leave. You sneak to Caleb and Nott’s room and hide the trinkets and treasures among their things for them to find in a few minutes, a few hours. a few days, a few weeks.

Hopefully, it won’t make her suspicious. Hopefully, you’ve hidden them well enough. Hopefully, they are kind enough and they make her feel loved.