#character study ── christopher sharpe .

[professorsharpe]

KIT SHARPE is a forty-two year old, resident of kismet harbor who currently resides in cresthill meadows with his husband and works as a high school english teacher. kit’s gender is cis man, his sexuality is homosexual and he uses he/him pronouns. he’s married, father of two, owner of two dalmatians named dash and shiva, and love to make cringy dad jokes.

FULL NAME: Christopher “Kit” Wallace Sharpe. FAMILY: Matthew & Rosalind ( parents, alive ). Oldest Child ( wanted connection, 25 ), Madeline Sharpe ( youngest daughter, 13 ). RELATIONSHIP: Married to Wanted Connection. PETS: Dashiell and Shiva ( dalmatians ). AGE: Forty-two.  PLACE OF BIRTH: Sheffield, England. DATE OF BIRTH: February 21st, 1982. ZODIAC: Pisces. GENDER & SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Cis man, homosexual.  OCCUPATION: High school English teacher. 

about kit.

Christopher Sharpe was born and raised in a home filled with nothing but love. As the only child of Matthew and Rosalind, he was spoiled rotten but in the nicest way possible. Originally from Sheffield in England, the family found their way to Kismet Harbor when he was nine after a job opportunity came up for his mother and they’ve been settled down there since.

A lot of his warm, easygoing personality comes from his father, a retired comedian, that taught him having a good sense of humor and looking at life from a positive perspective were very important. Still, despite having always been at least in some level of extroverted, Kit ended up growing awfully shy as a teenager, preferring to keep it to himself — especially since he was constantly teased for his accent. Instead, he’d focus his energy on his academic life, ever the applied student as that was something his mother passed onto him.

Kit had already made most of the planning for his life after high school was over with but as he was merely a teenager at the time, he ended up taking a different route as the years went on. Clearly, he still followed through with going to college but instead of studying medicine and following a career in the same field as his mom, he ended up getting a bachelor’s degree in English with a minor in teaching. He’s been working as a high school teacher for nearly a decade and a half of his life now.

The rest of his plans such as finding love, getting married and starting a family, came to him in a different order. Not as if he’d ever change a single thing about it as for once, ditching his plans and simply living actually did him some good. He found love in his now husband and the two built up their life, as well as their home, together as a strong union. Two children and a few years later, would the two get married.

Kit knows that he might look like he’s in a bad mood all the time but he actually has a really dorky personality and can be quite the goof. He loves to make dad jokes, bad puns and definitely has embarrassed his children because of that. He’s also always been the type of person that puts other people’s needs above his own, sometimes even forgetting that he is also just as important as anyone else. Kind of a people pleaser but not a pushover — definitely knows how to stand his ground when needed. And lastly, he started going by Kit back in high school and nobody has really called him anything else since. His parents will sometimes call him by Chris but I doubt anyone uses his actual name unless they’re mad at him or it’s a serious subject.

[imfoive]

Crystal Bird - Chapter 7

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of drinking, war, epileptic episodes, death, somewhat proofread WC: 6.4k A/N: Finally the princess and her warrior prince has returned! (I hated the direction I took this story in and had to scrap it all. Hopefully my decision was a good one lol) Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

CHAPTER 7 ───────────────────

In the dark of the night, Nightshade Kingdom’s second prince, Felix rushed through the castle gates, his grip tight on the reins of his horse, a furrowed expression on his face that spoke of the urgent news he had.

It was with this urgency that the Solar Warrior entered the King’s palace. And upon seeing his face, both King Bahng and Captain Elliot, who happened to be in the King’s study, knew exactly what kind of news he had.

The silence in the room was deafening almost.

The burly king tapped on his desk, processing Felix’s words. He suspected that something was amiss. From the moment he received that invite from Elysium, he knew.

   “I’ve seen it myself. They’re getting into position.” Felix stated, emphasizing the weight of his earlier announcement.

Prince Felix had gone to inspect the warrior band stationed at the border, a routine task he performed as second-in-command of the Solar Warriors. But this time was different. As he peered over the wall, even in the darkness, the flickering light of the fire stakes allowed the sharp-eyed second prince to get a glimpse of a troubling sight.

The Elysium Knights on their territory had grown in numbers. Not just by a few, but nearly doubled. Something he had never witnessed in his year of making rounds for inspection. A chill had crept down his spine, masked under a composed expression he portrayed to not worry the warriors who stood guard.

But inside he was drowning in a sudden anxiousness.

There was no way. He thought as he rushed back.

Yet deep down, those unsettling feelings continued to grow, pushing him to urge his horse to run faster.

   “Do you think Prince Christopher managed to uncover something?” Captain Elliot’s voice broke the tense silence as he glanced between his son and his king.

   “We have not gotten any word or sign at all since he had made his journey.” Felix responded grimly.

The atmosphere grew heavier as King Bahng pondered his next move. It was clear, perhaps even from the beginning, Elysium planned to shatter their peace alliance. That much they had known. However, the motives behind their ruse remained a mystery. Though, King Bhang wouldn’t put it past that sneaky Elysium King to make such movements out of pure greed alone. 

The former Elysium King had also been a similar character from what King Bahng recalled, memories from his own time as Nightshade Crown Prince drew the connection.

But now, the tensions the King had once witnessed as a young prince, had returned, this time nearing an impending breaking point. 

Perhaps it would finally shatter the hostility and make the majestic Grand Forest a battleground.

On top of it all, Nightshade had to remain cautious, in order to not alert anyone that they caught wind of certain schemes. That they planned to retaliate as soon as a thread snaps. Especially with the Nightshade Crown Prince currently in enemy territory.

   “Send word to Commander Seo.” King Bahng finally declared, then turned to Felix. 

   “Dispatch the remaining Midnight Warriors from The Crown Prince’s brigade to the border. Instruct them to stay vigilant. Their leader will send them a signal.”

   “Yes, Your Majesty.” Felix replied, bowing before exiting swiftly.

The door creaked as it closed, leaving the older men in the silent study. The burning firewood crackled loudly in the tense atmosphere. Elliot looked at his brother, the somber expression on his face made it clear that he wasn’t just worried about The Nightshade Kingdom, or war breaking out. But he was worried for his son. The father suddenly regretted willingly sending the prince to that godforsaken serpent land.

   “Prince Christopher is resilient. Do you recall what Commander Seo had said before? The next Nightshade ruler is a vicious warrior. Do not worry my King, he will be able to defend himself.” Elliot assured, sensing the king’s unspoken fears.

   “You know I cannot truly be at ease until he is back on Nightshade soil.” King Bahng muttered, sighing as he leaned back in his seat.

And Captain Elliot remained silent, knowing exactly what this father was feeling.

But they were also aware of exactly what Prince Christopher was capable of, from everything they’ve heard from the tough Nightshade Commander, who was perhaps the most ruthless fighter the King had known. 

Prince Christopher was a vicious warrior.

A true warrior.

A competent future king, that had a sharp intuition, even sharper battle skills. He thought before making hasty decisions, watching, observing. Sure, he had a mischievous side, a playful persona that was perhaps his true nature. Or perhaps a mask he donned to throw off those wary of him.

Commander Seo had said it once. 

   “The Prince seems to hold grudges.”

That statement rang true, as certain as the white snow blanketing the North. 

A grudge against his father, who questioned his readiness to think like a Crown Prince. Who sent him off to build character. 

A grudge against his teacher, who doubted his skills to wield a sword, shoot an arrow. Skills to survive on the battleground.

A grudge against himself, for being weak.

In just a year after he arrived in the White Mountains, Prince Christopher had transformed, driven by these petty grievances. 

Chris was a fierce warrior, one that had quickly gained a reputation amongst the warrior trainees, catching the eyes of the local residents with his intense presence even when he simply just stood and watched.

And it was with these calculated observations, that the fierce and keen eyed prince was able to select an even fiercer captain for his Midnight Band.

Minho was the most stealthy amongst the warriors that trained to be a part of the Midnight brigade. Minho easily caught the Nightshade Prince’s eye, his skills to spot the smallest of details amongst the shadows of the night, were things Christopher knew he wanted in his shadow leader.

And with these same skills, the Midnight leader had caught the sight of the Sylvancrest Prince during the late hours, when everyone returned from the royal dinner, tired, dazed, and perhaps a little drunk. When no one would have suspected anything to happen in the wake of the night. The foreign prince was escorted to meet the Elysium King in what seemed a suspicious act, prompting the Midnight Warrior to dash through the shadows with the news.

Of course upon his entrance, he found the Prince’s room to be empty. 

Minho had sensed something from the moment Prince Christopher jumped out of the carriage to wander the mysterious Grand Forest. He realized that his prince had deeper ties to Elysium than he let on.

The jewel that hung around Christopher’s neck hinted at those ties, leading Minho to make easy conclusions.

The shadow warrior felt torn between duty and loyalty.

Part of him wondered if he should involve himself in whatever game of hide-and-seek his prince, Han and the second princess, seemed to play. Meeting coincidentally in secluded areas. In odd hours of the night.

But another part reminded him that his primary duty was to follow Prince Christopher’s orders, uncovering any threats Elysium posed to Nightshade. He needed to be his prince’s eyes, his shadow. Nothing else.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the memories of those nights when Christopher had tended to his aching muscles, nursing cuts and scrapes from their endless hours on the training grounds. The North was cold, but that didn’t stop the sweating prince from pushing himself. Minho recalled the way Christopher clutched the blue bird, the jewel that always seemed to glimmer.

The same crystal bird that the Midnight Captain now connected to Princess Y/N. 

Minho had always been skilled at catching the smallest of details, though his prince didn’t do a great job at masking his lingering gazes.

However, did he truly wish to see his master trail behind the enemy princess?

──────────────────────── The fourth prince of Sylvancrest has never been greed driven. 

Perhaps it was this greed-lessness that attracted the Elysium King’s attention. Hyunjin wasn’t seen as a threat it seemed. For the king to lay out such schemes, bare for this foreign prince to see, to recruit, was a conclusion one could easily come to after some thought.

Hyunjin was never going to be a threat. 

He was a polite man. 

But he wasn’t stupid.

He knew exactly why the Elysium King had come to him, and not the Nightshade Crown Prince whose very presence was an enigma in itself. Rivalries aside, it was clear the future ruler of the Nightshade realm was not one who would easily sway. He was sharp, he was competent and would make a proper king.

While Hyunjin, a prince not in line for the throne, hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the harsh lessons his older brother endured.

For the Elysium King, greedy by nature, he was a perfect recruit. Hyunjin could easily become a ruler with foreign aid from a bigger, stronger nation.

A proper Puppet-king.

One that could easily be controlled however way his strings were pulled. Pressed under the thumb of Elysium, while he would proudly bask in the seat of the Sylvancrest King.

Such ridiculousness.

Still, he recalled the conversation he had with the king of this land the night prior. The greedy ruler’s words swirling through his mind.

He didn’t realize he’d be in such a predicament, where he was actually thinking about the utter nonsense of betraying his nation, his family, his brother. For some power that seemed like a headache in itself. 

Clearly, the King doesn’t realize that not all royals are out to get each other. In fact, Hyunjin and his older brothers live in harmony. Perhaps that is why the fourth prince is so calm and polite. He’s never had to be wary of his own siblings. A notion that was clearly uncommon here amongst the Elysium royals. 

Once again. Hyunjin wasn’t stupid.

There were whispers of an incident that had occurred during a show of archery skills. One that resulted in an accident involving the second princess. Whispers that had reached Emerald Hall. Had reached Hyunjin’s ears. 

It wasn’t his place, but he caught glimpses of Princess Y/N knit her brows, holding back discomfort as she slowly adjusted the weight on her left arm during yesterday’s dinner. 

It wasn’t his place, but he saw her stagger, hand pressed against the wall for support as she hissed silently in pain, assuming she had been alone.

Prince Hyunjin had planned on escorting her back to her quarters, maybe even help her soothe whatever was painfully hurting her, while he was at it. 

Ever since she had welcomed Hyunjin into the palace, the second princess has been nothing but polite to him. Sharing smiles and stories, respectful of his slightly lower status. Maybe she understood him, being a princess from the King’s mistress. Though even that shouldn’t have mattered anyway.

She had been a friend. One he truly wished only the best for.

So he had been lost in his thoughts. The words of the Elysium King’s once again ringing in his mind.

Words spoken by Princess Y/N’s father.

   “If you do end up taking my advice and usurping the Sylvnacrest throne, perhaps we can offer you an Elysium Princess to take the seat of your consort. Becoming allies that support one another through marriage... Of course, that’s if you have the desire to become a true ruler.” 

He recalled those words, serpent-like. Tempting.

Words that sent a shiver down his spine.

But in the back of his mind, Hyunjin suddenly remembered Prince’s Christoper’s…warning. 

The Warrior Crown Prince had been right in his observations of the sly king’s greed. Surely it wouldn’t take him long to figure out the true reasons behind such friendly hospitality for his nation, which the Elysium society had no fondness for. 

Hyunjin’s gaze faltered, trailing after the figure moving gracefully down the aisle of books.

The sight of Princess Y/N, her fingers pulling out titles that caught her eyes, caused him to narrow his brows.

Amidst the heap of books about trade and the Sylvancrest seaports the second princess could find, he couldn’t help but suddenly ponder.

He could tell the second princess was ambitious. 

She was curious, seeking out answers to whatever questions lingered on her mind. In the span of his entire stay, Hyunjin had plenty of discussions with her, ones that didn’t make him feel tense or rigid. The comfortable kind of conversations where he could easily voice out thoughts without thinking twice, three times. 

Princess Y/N was a commendable Princess. One who would truly make a great Queen.

   “Are you excited for Prince Ian’s wedding?” Hyunjin asked, softening his lips into a gentle smile as he watched her gaze pull away from the book in her grasp.

Y/N sat up in her seat, her expression thoughtful. She didn’t have any particular feelings in regards to Prince Ian, let alone his wedding, which was finally about to happen. An event that would mark the end of all the whirlwind of activity and responsibilities she had been caught up in

After the wedding, she could return to her quieter days of lessons and tea with Sienna. Maybe even back to being the forgotten princess no one really sought.

Y/N’s eyes flickered to Hyunjin, who awaited her response with that gentle expression that he had whenever he spoke to her.

The founding day festivities following Ian’s wedding ceremony would conclude Elysium’s celebrations. 

The end. 

This meant Hyunjin will return to Sylvancrest soon after.

It also meant Prince Christopher would go back to Nightshade. 

Once again, she wouldn’t have the chance to say goodbye to her childhood friend.

This time, it was going to be all her fault.

Y/N thought back to the night prior. Finger’s instinctively grazing at the dress’ fabric on her shoulder which no longer pained. Not as much as the excruciating feeling she was bearing the previous evening. 

This morning, Anna had watched her closely, eyeing the green salve Y/N had instructed her to apply to the wound. The swelling had reduced and the flesh less red, just as she’d been told it would. But as Anna treated her, all Y/N could think of was Chan.

Chan and his gentle touch, the way his eyes had focused on her as his fingers brushed against her skin. 

Chan and his smile. The glint in his gaze as he broke into a dimpled laughter.

Hyunjin’s soft laugh pulled her back to the present, to their quiet corner of the royal library.

   “I didn’t realize my question required such critical thinking.” He chuckled.

Y/N felt flustered, mentally chiding herself for letting her mind wander, thinking about another, but she quickly regained her composure.

   “I wouldn’t say excited perse. There’s lots to do in preparations for the wedding and all the celebrations that come with it.” She voiced almost matter-of-factly.

Hyunjin leaned forward, resting his face in the cup of his propped-up hands. 

   “Yet here you are, discussing Sylvancrest’s fishing techniques with me.” He let out a small laugh, enjoying her once more flustered reaction.

She set the book down, clearing her throat.

   “I found some time—besided, it is one of my duties to ensure our honored guests are entertained.” She attempted to justify, her words only making Hyunjin grin wider.

   “Well, I am feeling quite entertained right now.” His eyes sparkled with an emotion Y/N couldn’t quite place.

   “Y-you have that hunting excursion with Prince Ian and the other young lords don’t you?” Y/N stammered under Hyunjin’s soft but intense gaze.

The Sylvancrest prince sighed, dropping his head momentarily, a twinge frustrated.

   “I doubt that will truly keep me entertained. I’ve never been keen on hunting for sport.” He leaned back, a hint of disappointment in his expression.

   “Perhaps I’ll just follow Prince Christopher’s lead. He looks like he’s quite skilled with the bow.”

His gaze wandered to her shoulder, the one that had apparently been wounded with an arrow. Yet, she sat here perfectly fine, no discomfort in her expression. No stagger in her walk. 

   “I’m sure you will do just fine.” Y/N replied casually, glancing back at the book she had set aside.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips.

   “Do I look like someone who has good archery skills?” He suddenly asked, watching her gaze falter once more from the book.

Her eyes trailed over him, a sudden intensity in her gaze as she observed him

   “I think you’re more skilled with a sword. But who knows if that’s true, besides yourself and your guard.” She glanced toward the library doors, behind which Seungmin stood waiting.

An answer that made Hyunjin break into another chuckle.

While they enjoyed their carefree conversation in the library, the atmosphere in Ruby Hall was anything but relaxed.

Well, it was seemingly relaxed, but turmoil churned within Prince Christopher.

The Nightshade Prince had not gotten any sleep.

Clear indications from the slight bags under his eyes, a haze in his gaze.

He sat there, supposedly enjoying afternoon tea, yet he was trapped in his thoughts. A dazed expression that the maids at his service couldn’t quite decipher, on edge from the darkness in his eyes. A sight that made Han stare with a new concern.

   “Shall we extend an invitation to Princess Sienna to join you for lunch?” Han suggested, making Chris look up, breaking free from his clouded thoughts.

Another burden added to whatever was pricking at him. The mention of his childhood friend made his heart clench, feeling a sense of guilt washing over him. Even if he truly hadn’t done anything wrong. 

   “No, perhaps we should cut back on meeting her too frequently.” He refused, glancing towards the Ruby Hall attendants that surrounded them.

It was an answer that made Han blink back, a little surprised as he wondered since when his prince cared so much about what these foreign attendants thought.

Although it wasn’t entirely the reason behind his refusal, it was a true reflection. Chris had been sharing afternoon tea, lunch, much too often with Sienna. Granted, it’s only been three or so days of such activity, but that was still a lot according to etiquette. While Sienna seemed oblivious to the wary looks and glances of the people in the entourage that trailed behind her, the Warrior Prince knew that amongst them were a few that made frequent visits to their Queen’s court, according to Minho. Reporting, keeping an eye on him.

He remembered the news he got from the Midnight Captain this morning. 

The news about Prince Hyunjin being escorted into the King’s palace late in the night, something he would have found out earlier if he wasn’t busy frolicking around these foreign grounds in search of a hurt bunny.

He suddenly shuddered at the thought of Princess Y/N.

The thought of his dream.

The press of his lips against hers, an imaginary moment that had ignited his entire being.

Chris picked up his tea, the still-cooling liquid burning his throat as he gulped it down. Han stared at him, stunned by the surprising action, while Chris tried to rid his mind of such nonsensical thoughts.

   “W-we should invite Prince Hyunjin, maybe for a friendly chat?” Chris cleared his throat, glancing up at the standing warrior guard, who recovered from his stunnedness.

   “Ah, I heard he’s visiting the royal library with Princess Y/N... I wonder if she’s feeling better now.” Han’s words are casual, trailing off as he speaks more to himself than to his prince.

His prince, who stiffened in his seat at both the mention of her name, and the slight jealousy that suddenly crept into his heart, jaw tightening, fingers gripping around the ceramic tea cup.

A reaction that did not escape the personal guard. Confirming certain suspicions that arose in his mind the night prior.

Y/N did not expect the cold shoulder.

Sure, before yesterday, no, prior to last night even, the Warrior Prince had only shot her glares, his words straight-forward. Not that her stance against him wasn’t any less hostile. 

But she had thought he would be different today. 

Perhaps softening a little when he spoke to her, maybe even flash her that smile she caught a glimpse of when he teased her. 

But there was none of that. 

As if he meant nothing by sneaking into her quarters, his skin grazing against her skin with the gentlest of touches she’d never felt until him. 

As if he truly went out of his way because he did nothing but pity her. Her injury, her embarrassment.

Tending to a forgotten princess because no one else would.

Prince Christopher gave her a respectful bow, a simple greeting to acknowledge her presence, before turning to Hyunjin, ignoring the confused tinge in her gaze.

Y/N inhaled deeply. A silent act as she stood straight.

   “I have a prior engagement to attend. Please enjoy yourselves—and, good luck on your hunting excursion Princes.” Princess Y/N composed herself, dipping down for a curt farewell, her guard trailing behind her.

Hyunjin’s grin remained, gentle on his face, while the Warrior Prince stood brusque. Yet, Chris’ head immediatey turned on its own, eyes drawn to the princess’ retreating figure, as if pulled by the magnet that was her.

He knew she was stunned by his words. Or, his lack of words. The confusion evident in her gaze. But of course he didn’t do anything to correct it.

Because how on earth could he tell her that he was feeling heat on his cheeks? How could he explain that the sour taste in his mouth intensified as he joined Prince Hyunjin and Y/N after their trip to the library, seeing them smiling and standing so close, made him…angry?

   “Shall we head inside for a quick chess game before we join Prince Ian?” Hyunjin asked, his smile unwavering, yet eyes gleamed with a new look the Warrior Prince hadn’t seen even after the banquet. Prior to meeting the Elysium King.

Prior to spending all morning with Princess Y/N.

The Second Princess found herself in the presence of Sienna. The two sisters had ventured out into the warm weather for a brisk stroll. Ones that consisted of hushed gossip and reflections of their morning encounters. 

Simply, sisters enjoying each other’s company. Yet today, an unspoken tension lingered in the air. Both were lost in their own thoughts, the vibrant colors of the garden around them got no attention.

The younger princess sighed, her mind occupied with the chilling gaze of the Nightshade Prince. His cold stares felt like daggers compared to the gentle gaze in the dimness of her bedchamber.

Meanwhile, The First Princess walked beside her, her expression thoughtful as she wondered about something else.

Or maybe wondered about the same prince and his lingering gazes.

   “Do you think Prince Christopher has taken a particular interest in me?” 

Sienna’s question was unexpected, startling the day-younger sister, so much that she almost stumbled in her steps. 

   “Wh-what makes you say that?” Y/N blinked, struggling to grasp the weight of her sister’s words.

Sienna glanced around to ensure their guards were a good distance away before stepping closer to Y/N. She looked at her younger sister with a mix of wonder and curiosity.

   “The prince isn’t as cold and brusque with me as he is with everyone else.” She began, recalling the tiny things she had noticed.

   “He always sends for me when he wants to have a good conversation. But as soon as someone else, like Lady Ayssa or Prince Ian, joins us, he becomes all rigid and distant. His tone blunt and cold. As if he’s completely different around only me. Surely you have caught sight of it as well. You’ve always noticed such small details.” The first princess recalled, absentmindedly nodding her head.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her surprise evident. She listened as Sienna continued, oblivious to the tight knot forming in her stomach.

   “He smiles at me, engages with me more freely—Like those romantic leads in your fairytales.” Sienna compared, giggling and nudging her sister, but the light-hearted moment faded when she saw the downturn of Y/N’s expression.

   “Oh, right, I mean love-stories. Not fairytales.” Sienna said, a slight giggle in her words, misunderstanding. 

Y/N’s fists tightened, her knuckles white as she gripped her dress. Her sister, oblivious to what was truly bothering her.

   “Are you also interested in him...?” The Second Princess managed to squeak out, mind repeating please-say-no over and over again.

Sienna paused, her eyes narrowing in thought. She crossed her arms over her chest and considered the question. 

   “Prince Christopher is a good-looking fellow. And he might seem like the type who only dotes on his partner, perhaps the type to only search for her amidst a crowd.” She turned to face the second princess.

   “But… where’s the thrill in that?” Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint Y/N had never seen before, making the younger sister blink back, slightly stunned.

   “I’d rather have someone who lets me do the chasing.” She grinned.

Her face lit up as she continued, her voice higher, a sudden pep in her step.

    “An aloof guy, handsome but not flaunting it. Maybe he pretends he doesn’t reciprocate feelings of love, but secretly brings me things he thinks I’d like. Leaving me gifts by the window-sill, notes in passing. Our hands brushing together amidst the clandestine acts, the meetings.” Her eyes twinkled.

   “—Oh! Perhaps he protects me from behind, threatening anyone who even looks at me wrong.” She hummed with her laugh.

Her descriptions were straight out of those love stories she teased Y/N about. Giggling as she recalled the similarities.

Then, she stopped mid-stride, the playful smile fading into a sad, contemplative expression almost instantly. As if she had come to a realization. 

Back to harsh reality.

   “But, that would be quite impossible…” She said softly. 

   “I’m the First Princess of this nation, after all.”

Y/N inhaled, immediately understanding those exact words. For the first time, she saw a side of The First Princess role she always thought came with nothing but privileges.

   “I must marry into another powerful family, perhaps even from another kingdom to strengthen alliances. That is one of the greatest duties for us princesses.”

Sienna’s words were nothing but the truth. Something Y/N had been aware of but never imagined to hear from the first princess. Suddenly she looked so mature, like a true older sister.

──────────────────────── 

The Warrior Prince was not the greatest fan of board games, let alone have the patience to sit through a game of chess. He was used to the hustle and bustle of the training grounds. The whistle of an arrow cutting through the biting winds, the sound of swords clanking. 

Yet he was determined. Jaw clenched as he stared at the black and white pieces laid between himself and Prince Hyunjin on the board.

He wasn’t sure why he felt so competitive suddenly. Maybe he was eager to uncover whatever the pretty prince and the sly Elysium king had discussed the night prior. Or maybe, there was something else that bothered him. 

Clawing at the back of his mind, a lingering bitterness. A twinge of envy, a tinge of jealousy.

   “To be honest, I’ve never truly liked chess.” Hyunjin’s voice broke Chris’ daze. 

A confession that made Han blink, unable to hide the surprise on his face from those words, glancing across to look at Seungmin who stood straight in his spot behind his seated master.

It seemed Han’s thoughts were shared by his prince, Chris sat back in his seat, raising a brow. 

If he had truly not been a big chess player, why had he suggested it?

There seemed to be more to his words than he let on, the mysterious glimmer in his eyes unmistakably visible to the warrior prince.

   “The black kingdom against the white. A cruel start.” Hyunjin continued, fingers gripping at his white piece from his side.

A pawn. One that he studied for a brief moment before sliding it over the glossy board. Making his first move.

   “Chess is nothing but a harmless game, Prince Hyunjin. One that does not begin until someone makes the first move.” Chris countered, following with his own movement of a pawn on the board.

   “I’ve always thought of it as something else. A war perhaps?” His eyes glanced momentarily towards the attendants by the tea trolley, preparing refreshments for the foreign princes, before he laughed, masking the intensity of his words.

Chris’ brows narrowed at Hyunjin’s words. At the notion of war. At what he had alluded. His gaze followed the maids, busy with their own work, yet he was sure their ears were perked.

Hyunjin made his next move. The Nightshade Prince followed, mirroring his movement.

There was a sudden tension in the air, the foreign princes engulfed into a silent game, heavily aware of the wary gazes that surrounded them. Chris fell into a deep thought, distracted as he tried to dissect whatever Hyunjin was implying. Fingers deftly moved pieces. The Knight, the Pawns.

The Queen.

His pieces, getting captured one after another.

The Sylvancrest Prince flicked his eyes up every now and then. At every wrong move Prince Christopher made.

Finally he hummed, falling into a deep thought of his own, as he stared at the few pieces left on the board. 

This time, Hyunjin picked up a white knight piece, moving it and settling it in its new place on the board, only for it to get captured in Chris’ next turn. He inhaled sharply, shaking his head at his own mistake.

   “A game of chess doesn’t begin until someone attacks first. But I believe the game had already begun once you agreed to play.” The Sylvancrest Prince’s words had finally broken a silence that settled between them.

He picked up his pawn, the only pawn left on the board surprisingly. 

   “You must not be very skilled at chess, seeing as you’ve left such a blatant opening for this guy.” Hyunjin grinned, eyeing the end of the board he could easily place his pawn on and win this game.

Checkmate with pawn promotion. A rare victory for such a small ranked piece.

Chris chuckled, shaking his head at this game, one he hadn’t truly paid much attention to.

   “Go ahead. What do you wish to turn this piece into? My chess knowledge may be lacking, but I do know that a pawn can’t be promoted to King, according to the rules.”

There was a flicker of emotion in Hyunjin’s eyes again. The same one Chris had seen before they started playing.

   “Rules…” Hyunjin mumbled, moreso to himself.

His eyes glanced at Han, who stood rigid behind, then darted down to settle on the sharp-eyed warrior prince. 

   “What if this pawn wished to be king…” He glanced back at the leftover black and white pieces littered throughout the board. 

At the white King piece still on his side. He hovered the pawn piece over it, as if teasing to knock over his own King.

   “Perhaps the pawn could usurp the throne and become a king if he truly wanted. If he was offered something that enticing.” The Sylvancrest Prince picked up the black queen piece that he had captured. 

Capturing this piece was the beginning of his opponent’s fall.

   “Motivated to do so by a beautiful, capable queen.” 

The Nightshade prince relaxed his expression, gaze darting towards the Sylvancrest knight behind Hyunjin, his black queen piece in Hyunjin’s grasp, until he settled back on the pretty prince. 

Prince Christopher understood. 

What he was saying. What he tried to say through this vague chess talk.

Hyunjin was not talking about this game. It was evident, from his comparisons to the expression on his face.

Far from polite, far from naive.

The Nightshade Crown Prince’s expression hardened, sitting back in his seat once again.

   “Then this pawn must decide if he truly wishes to become king. My king still remains on the board.” There was a steely edge to his tone. 

A bit cold, a bit warning.

Hyunjin chuckled once more, easing the tension between them.

   “It doesn’t matter since at the end of the day it is still a just a pawn.” He muttered, making his final move.

   “Checkmate.” He grinned.

This pawn had made a victory. 

The chess game had come to an end. But it seemed that the real one had just begun.

The foreign princes had to prepare for their hunting activity with Ian and other noble lords later that afternoon. The Sylvancrest Prince had returned to his quarters with his usual, polite expression. The smile that lingered whenever he conversered with Crown Prince Christopher had returned, as if their alluding talk about a conflict, hadn’t happened.

As if they simply just played a game of chess.

But the Warrior Prince could not keep his expression composed, falling into deep thought as he paced the rose garden on his return back to Ruby Hall, Han trailing behind him.

With Prince Ian’s wedding celebrations coming up, Chris realized he was dealing with a ticking time bomb. Something grand was going to happen, either before or after Ian’s wedding. Perhaps even on the nation’s Founding Day anniversary, which had been pushed back to the day after Ian’s wedding. The Crown Prince and his new Princess Consort were to formally showcase their union through a parade the following day after the ceremony.

Chris was stuck. 

He had uncovered tidbits of a scheme pretty quickly. Yet, he still couldn’t quite understand why the Elysium Kingdom had suddenly decided to violate the neutrality their nations kept intact for centuries.

Was it the slow rise and flourish of the Eastern Sea Nation of Sylvancrest? Their steady influence that spread throughout the past decade? Was it that Elysium was confident in making them an ally? 

Chris had been in the White Mountains during that time, learning of the foreign nations and their achievements through books and lessons in between his training sessions. Perhaps if he still remained besides his father he would have more knowledge, maybe allowed to get a closer look. But he couldn’t regret any of that now, there was not much time.

Chris continued pacing, almost heading towards the end of his first round of the garden, his loyal guard silently following behind. Allowing him to wrack his brain.

What has changed in the past few years that would push the Elysium Kingdom to march towards their own demise.

Perhaps Elysium underestimated Nightshade, believing they might have a a chance at winning a war through petty tactics. Maybe they could, if they had a hidden weapon they could. That was something Nightshade would just have to find out on the battle ground unfortunately.

But if it was a war, the Warrior Crown Prince was confident. In his nation, in his King.

In himself, the warriors and healers of his realm.

They were known for their defense tactics. Their healing methods and ideologies.

Christopher’s brows narrowed, fixating on the pebbles underneath his feet. Suddenly halting in his steps, which made Han, who trailed behind, stare at him in sudden confusion.

A new thought surfaced in Chris’ mind, and suddenly his brows relaxed, as if he had connected more imaginary pieces of a puzzle he had been trying to fit together since his arrival.

Their healing methods and ideologies.

His eyes darted toward Han, who still awaited for his prince to voice out his thoughts.

The Nightshade realm was lush with forests. It was barren, it was mountainous, it was plainlands.

A vast land that had so many terrains within. A vast land that produced sought after resources. But most sought after, their medicinal herbs and knowledge of how to use them. 

Now that Chris thought about it, some three or four decades ago, long before his birth, the discovery of a rare medicinal plant had stirred quite a buzz. This herb was said to have remarkable benefits for those suffering from the epilepsy sickness, a discovery that created a sudden palpable tension between Elysium and Nightshade.

The former Elysium King was desperate to get his hands on the herb, but was too proud to ask Nightshade for such favors, his hatred for the rival nation evident in how closed off he kept Elysium from the Nightshade Kingdom.

But Chris had only read about such things in books, heard about it through tales of his grandfather’s achievements. The previous Elysium king had passed away before hostilities escalated, possibly due to his epileptic episodes, stubbornly. With his death, the tensions between the nations had somewhat faded.

Was it that the current Elysium King was after the same herb?    

Surely that couldn’t be a reason. 

Such a small thing couldn’t be the reason why a ruler of such a grand nation would stir conflict with an enemy he knew nothing of other than surface level rumors. Besides, it wasn’t the first time the Nightshade healers had made life-changing medical advancements. Every few years there’s a new discovery that allows Nightshade to grow their influences throughout the lands through medicine. 

But maybe it was this rare influence that Elysium coveted. 

It was a thought, a conclusion for the Elysium King’s sudden madness. Anything could be a clue at this point. 

They were all stubborn it seemed. The former king, the current king.

Princess Y/N.

He inhaled, gaze flickering back down to the ground.

   “What have you thought of?” Han’s voice broke the silence, the younger man’s gaze narrowed.

   “Do you believe they’ll do something funny at the hunt?” Chris mused, contemplating the possibility.

Though it was unlikely, he wouldn’t put it past the Elysium royals.

But the mere thought made Han shudder. An attack on his crown prince disguised as a friendly hunting match.

An ambush.

   “Perhaps we avoid it?” Han’s tone was serious.

Instead Chris lets out a soft chuckle, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. 

   “Or maybe they’ll poison my tea.” He started walking once again, Han hurrying to catch up.

   “Not funny.” The warrior guard muttered, frown etched on his face.

   “I doubt they’ll attempt anything at the hunt, such obvious of an act is cowardly. And we’ve seen how proud Ian had been, haven’t we?” Chris shook his head, lingering smile from his chuckle.

   “Prince Ian has been bragging about his amazing archery skills. Maybe I can show him how a true warrior shoots an arrow. Without nicking anyone.” Chris’ voice dropped low, and a determined expression settled on his face, causing Han to stand rigid.

He wanted revenge it seemed.

But for what exactly? 

For something that did not involve him. For the excrutiation pain from Ian’s arrow that he did not feel.

Han’s gaze fixed on his prince’s back as Chris quickened his pace, a decision clearly made. He was in a rush to return to his quarters and prepare for the hunting game.

The Nightshade Crown Prince had always been one to hold petty grudges.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @stayceebs97, @palindrome969, @tsunderelino, @solandiszale, @fixation-dump, @ellelabelle, @gaslasyttune, @qwonyoung23, @minh0scat, @candyquokka, @sellomaybe, @kat-unzel, @gujter

[scattered-irises]

The Stage was the Castle Hope in Astral

Chapter 3 of OOParts Iron Maiden and the Dreamy Prince is the last wholesome wholesome chapter. Please read it after chapter two for the full fairytale wedding experience.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4242

Characters: Michael Arclight, Yuma Tsukumo

Pairing: Michael Arclight/Yuma Tsukumo

Warnings: Mentions of past Arclight weirdness, arranged marriage

Summary: Michael has the fairytale wedding of his dreams. Afterwards, he and Yuma talk about their dreams for the future.

  Another rain of flower petals greeted him as he entered the cathedral. A looming figure of the Astral god, the Emperor Hope, watched over the altar. Compared to the joyous salutations of the throne room, the cathedral was silent. Courtiers continued to greet him with smiles, but they were more restrained. Flower girls dressed in flowing silks threw even more flower petals at his feet. Michael began to walk down the long walkway, a boyish figure awaiting him at the end. 

  His heart filled with joy upon seeing Yuma’s merry red eyes and grin. He wore a suit of red, bright against the white backdrop of the cathedral. A crown of white Astran lilies perched on his head, matching Michael’s own flower crown. He could fly down the flower-strewn path if the flower girls hadn’t dictated the pace of the ceremony. Run into Yuma’s arms and tell him what a dream-come-true Astral was. And yet, with the very little etiquette lessons he was steeped in, he forces himself to match the even gait of the flower girls. 

  “You all look so beautiful,” he whispered. 

  One of the younger girls turned back and stuck out her tongue. 

  Such cheek. Children of Barian were never this joyous. Even the village children seemed dour. His own upbringing alongside his brothers were guided by their father’s stern hand. When he had lost himself to his arcane studies, their imposing tutor had taken Tron’s place. Even Thomas, with all of his eccentricities, appeared doused in the presence of their tutor.

  “Doctor Starfruit,” as he and Thomas secretly called him, had gnarled fingers and a beak-like nose. His hair had never appeared brushed and stuck out like the angles of a starfruit. His clothes were alway black and ill-fit his hunched figure. A sharp rap on the head was his signature move for sleepy students, quickly shaking Christopher out of the habit. 

  Even though Thomas answered Doctor Starfruit’s questions through his puppets and Christopher mumbled his responses over pieces of flesh, the fear the man instilled into them long remained. 

  Scanning the crowd of courtiers, there were no Doctor Starfruit-like figures in the audience. Everyone was fresh-faced and wearing their most colorful clothes. 

  The priest at the head of the altar outstretched his arms in welcome, his silvery sleeves stretching to the floor. His wizened expression and curiously braided eyebrows were filled with kindness. He gave Michael a brief nod and Michael nodded back. 

  As the flower girls emptied their baskets at the foot of the altar, Michael turned to face Yuma. Immediately, his betrothed beamed. Michael stilled for a few moments, taken by Yuma’s charm. His skin appeared to be kissed by the sun and his hair touched by flame. Despite that, he possessed the same gentle expression as his mother. Although the miniature he had been gifted of Yuma was skilled, it was nothing compared to real life. No amount of talent could capture such effervescent brightness.

  “We are here today to celebrate the union between enemy lines!” declared the priest. “One from the Kingdom of Barian and one from the Kingdom of Astral. Both are of noble lineage, House Arclight of Barian’s great mages and House Tsukumo of Astral’s greatest generals. Rejoice!” 

  Polite applause rose from the audience. Michael caught Queen Mirai’s eye in the front row. The queen beamed, a prideful expression on her face. 

  “May their unity upon many others bring peace to our kingdoms,” said the priest to greater applause. “The war has taken far too many noble souls.” 

  Yuma offered Michael his hands. Quickly, Michael grabbed them. They were reassuringly warm. 

  “You look amazing,” whispered Yuma. 

  Heat filled Michael’s cheeks and he stopped himself from looking away. Yuma’s eyes burned with tender passion as Michael’s heart soared. How could he have been so lucky? His father could have betrothed him to a cold widow or a cruel tyrant. Instead, he had been presented with a lovely youth close to his age. 

  “You do as well,” said Michael. 

  Yuma grinned and it felt as if all of the candles in the room had dimmed. Never had he seen such a bright smile before. The boy must have been blessed by the Emperor Hope himself. Gazing up at the deity, Michael felt a wave of reassurance fill his chest. There was nothing heathen-like about this foreign god. In his strong arms he held twin blades. According to the books he had read, Emperor Hope could also furnish an impenetrable shield if needed. 

  Looking back at Yuma, Michael straightened his posture. He would protect that smile. He would become his prince’s sword and shield if needed. 

  “...Under orders from the Great Dragon, Emperor Hope sought to protect Man, for Man was small and weak. The Great Hope shielded Man from wicked influences like the pariah Don Thousand and the Black Mist,” recited the priest.

  At the mention of the Barian gods, Michael stiffened. Ever since Emperor Durbe ascended the Barian throne, Astral’s forces had seemed to grow even more fervent. Their emperor was a devout worshiper of the Barian gods, his palace rumored to be filled with religious artifacts. 

  The first time he had seen the emperor, he had been in the midst of a pilgrimage. Tron had offered him shelter from the rain. Clutching his father’s hand, Michael gazed up at the bespectacled man in awe. Could such a plainly dressed man truly be the great ruler of Barian? All Durbe had worn was a roughspun pair of trousers and a shirt dyed black. His boots were worn and covered in mud. Around his neck, a pendant featuring Don Thousand’s lotus hung, the only item of true value on his body. The emperor had knelt down before him and touched his forehead. His breath had smelled of coriander. 

  “ May Black Mist guide you, little one, ” he had intoned in a voice like whispering reeds. 

  His gray eyes had radiated kindness and his hand was warm. He ate very little and never commented on the behaviors of Michael’s brothers. How could such a man and his gods be considered evil? 

  Don Thousand stood for the creativity and soul of man, protecting them from oppression. Black Mist, his son, protected wayward youths and encouraged cleverness. Anything they had done to the old gods had been necessitated by self defense. Man could not be protected by Emperor Hope forever. 

  And what about Astral’s own emperor, Eliphas? Everyone knew that he was an extravagant man who commanded absolute respect. Never seen without a retinue or his golden helm, the emperor of Astral always seemed to flaunt his country’s wealth. 

  Noticing Michael’s discomfort, Yuma squeezed his hands and gave him an awkward smile. 

  “Traditions are traditions,” he breathed. 

  Michael gave him a brief nod and waited for the sermon to end. 

  As the priest droned on about the virtues of hope and obedience, he felt himself rebelling at the words. Exploring the unknown moved humanity ahead. Change brought forth progress. A refusal to accept the gods’ rules allowed Man to think on his own. He thought back to his father’s resurrected rat. 

  One could not bring back the dead. 

  And yet he did. 

  At the cost of his sanity and body, hissed a voice in Michael’s head. 

  Michael swallowed. Right. These new gods of order and hope were his gods now. This was his new home and kingdom. He would be obedient. He would be meek. He would allow Emperor Hope to shield him with his iron wings. 

  “And now, beneath the Great Hope’s watchful eyes, I pronounce you as one. Your souls have ranked up, ever closer to Utopia,” declared the priest. 

  A triumphant roar washed over the audience as Yuma pulled Michael into a chaste kiss. More flower petals fell from the sky. 

  They were quickly led to the banquet hall, where a sumptuous feast awaited them. Greenery of all shapes and sizes. Meat roasted to perfection. So many plates and names he didn’t know the names of. There was even a peacock edged with gold leaf. 

  “It’s just like you said…!” gasped Michael. “There’s no —”

  Yuma gave him a conspiratorial wink and dragged him towards the head of the table. They were quickly surrounded by a bevy of excited courtiers. 

  “Is Barian truly as miserable as they say?”

  “Did you truly feast on the blood of angels and eat from the skulls of traitors?”

  Yuma laughed at the courtiers’ questions, quickly waving them off. 

  “As you can see, Michael has normal human teeth just like us! And his hands are even more lily-white than some of yours!” boasted Yuma. 

  Shrinking at the attention, a wave of relief filled Michael’s chest as Yuma expertly parried the courtiers’ questions. He had to set a good example for his people, especially if there was so much ignorance about his culture. Yes, Barian at times could be miserable, but it had its wonderful moments too! 

  “Did I ever tell you about the harvest festivals we have?” asked Michael over the din of the courtiers. 

  Yuma quickly shook his head and proceeded to yank a turkey leg from a large platter.

  “No! Tell me!” he said, taking a large bite out of the leg afterwards. 

  “It’s quite the occasion! My people paint all kinds of things on their harvest crops. Faces, animals, scenes from legends…anything! It’s a way for them to pray for a good harvest. Once, there was this beautiful rendition of the moon floating over a river. Pine trees surrounded the lake and there was a howling wolf at the shore. It was painted on a beautiful white pumpkin—the largest I had ever seen…”

  It’s then that Michael realizes that all of the courtiers had silenced. They gazed at him with curious expressions, the food on their plates ignored. Heat filled Michael’s cheeks. 

  “U-uhm…w-we—the villagers—they also put candles in their hollowed squashes and display them as a way to entice Black Mist to guide their children.”

  “Isn’t that god of yours evil?” asked a young woman. 

  Michael met her eyes and straightened his shoulders. 

  “Black Mist is the guide of lost souls. He protects lost children and returns them home, wherever that may be,” replied Michael. “As a child himself, he likes sweets and plays pranks on his elders.”

  “Didn’t Black Mist steal Emperor Hope’s sword once?” asked another noble. 

  The nobles stirred, beginning to glance at Michael with suspicion. 

  “I believe all children are mischievous at heart,” said Michael as he was served soup. “Weren’t you also mischievous at that age?”

  The man blushed and then gave Michael a small grin. 

  “Why, yes. I stole the head priest’s hat and hid it in the stables,” he recalled with a chuckle. 

  “I do hope he found it!” said Michael. 

  “He did! And I had to muck out the stables for half a year!” 

  Laughter filled the banquet hall, soon giving way to easy conversation. 

  “They love you, see?” whispered Yuma. 

  Michael took a sip of his soup and smiled. The soft flesh of the fish melding with the herbs was nothing like the soups at home. He reached for a piece of turkey, only to find that his arms were too short. Quickly, Yuma leaned over the table, cut off a piece and placed it on Michael’s plate. 

  “Thank you,” said Michael. 

  “Don’t worry about it! This is really good!” said Yuma through a mouthful of food. 

  “It is!” agrees Michael after his first bite. 

  He had always adhered to a simple diet. He never wanted to bother the frightened chefs back at home. He had settled for lightly seasoned meats and tasteless vegetables for who knew how long. Now, faced with an array of expertly seasoned foods and plates as far as the eye could see, it was almost too much. 

  “Do you eat like this every night…?” breathed Michael after he finished his soup. 

  He reached for a strange purple fruit as Yuma quirked a grin. 

  “It’s only slightly less grand on normal nights,” he drawled. 

  Lights filled Michael’s eyes. He bit into the fruit and was met with a tart sweetness. The pale flesh of the fruit compared to its purple skin piqued his interest. Quickly finishing it, he waved over a server for some salad. He tried a little bit of everything, from meats he had never tried before to more unusually colored fruits. They all tasted fresh and new to him, refreshing compared to the earthy tastes of his usual fare. 

  “If I died right now, I would be happy,” he said, leaning back in his seat after he had eaten his fill. 

  Yuma furrowed his brows in mock worry. 

  “But then you wouldn’t be able to try our cake!” he said. 

  “Cake…?” echoed Michael, following Yuma’s gaze. 

  A beautiful creation decorated with fruits and flowers entered the room. Small sparklers burned at the top of the towering confection. The cake was split in half, one side dark and decorated with Barian roses while the other half was white and bedecked with Astral lilies. Michael’s mouth watered at the sight, his heart fluttering at the thought of eating it. 

  When he was served a slice, he slowly sunk his fork into the dark cake. 

  “What? You’ve never had a cake before?” asked Yuma through a mouthful. 

  “Not this nice I haven’t!” said Michael. 

  Barian’s cakes were small, barely-sweet affairs. If the chefs were feeling particularly generous, he got one for breakfast. 

  “I’ll have a cake ordered for your birthday as delicious as this one every year!” resolved Yuma. 

  With his husband’s promise buoying him, Michael bit into the cake. Immediately, he was hit by the rich chocolate. The cake melted in his mouth, leaving sugar dancing on his tongue. He quickly finished it, gazing at Yuma with bright eyes. If he could only have one meal for the rest of his life, it would be this. 

  “You got a little bit on you!” said Yuma as he playfully swiped a piece away from Michael’s mouth. 

  Michael blushed and smiled. 

  “Do you promise I can have a cake like this every birthday?” he whispered.

  Yuma eagerly nodded. 

  “I can teach you to make one too!” he added. 

  “Oh, I would love that!” 

  Looking around at the reveling courtiers, Yuma gave Michael a sly grin. 

  “How about we sneak out and go to my room for the night?” he said.

  Michael grabbed Yuma’s hand. 

  “That would be lovely,” he said, growing suddenly weary of the bright lights and overlapping voices. 

  “Then let’s go!” said Yuma as he pulled Michael out of his seat and toward the doors.

  As they walked through the halls, he found himself falling in step with Yuma. His husband began whistling a tune, his eyes gazing out at the night sky. 

  “With the treaty in process…do you think your father will be home soon?” asked Michael.

  Joy sparked Yuma’s eyes.

  “I hope so! I’m sure he’d love you!” he said. “And I’m sure my mother does as well!”

  “Your mother is very beautiful,” said Michael. “And very kind.”

  Yuma beamed. 

  “I’m so glad you like her!”

  They walked in peaceful silence for a few moments, their footsteps echoing across the halls. A beautiful tapestry soon caught Michael’s eyes. He paused, gazing at the battle depicted. Emperor Hope was brandishing his silvery swords, pointing them at Don Thousand in his secondary form. Flames surrounded the gods. Meteors fell from the sky. With his masked visage and towering figure, Michael had to agree that his god appeared quite demonic. 

  Seldom did Don Thousand appear in this frightful form. Only when he needed to defend his people did he don his obsidian armor and ride off into battle. At home, he was usually depicted as a deity who slept on lotus blossoms. His benevolent smile and gentle eyes made him seem good-natured and kind. 

  Often, Michael had prayed to him for inspiration. 

  “Akari?” called Queen Mirai’s distant voice. 

  Michael turned toward the sound. A door was slightly parted, Mirai’s silhouette stretched across the floor. 

  “Yes, mother?” replied Akari.

  He saw Mirai’s silhouette remove her gloves and toss them to the floor. 

  “Tell Eri to burn these gloves as soon as possible,” she ordered. 

  A chill ran up Michael’s spine. She must have stained them during the banquet. He slowly walked toward Yuma, trying to push the disgust in Mirai’s voice out of his mind. 

  Did women regularly burn their gloves after staining them? 

  Or was it only because she had touched him?

  Burn them. Such cruelty. Such venom in that voice. It was almost like how the villagers spoke about his family. 

  It couldn’t be the same woman who had embraced him and treated him like her own. It couldn’t be. There had to be an explanation. 

  “Yuma…?” asked Michael as they approached his room. 

  “Yeah?” asked Yuma as he unlocked the doors.

  “Does your mother regularly burn her gloves?”

  “Eh…? I…don’t know. Is that a thing Barian women do?” asked Yuma as he threw open the doors. 

  Michael’s worries were immediately dissipated by the sight of Yuma’s room. Artifacts upon artifacts filled the prince’s room. A homey smell emanated from the walls, starlight filtering in through the ceiling. Yuma opened his closet and tossed Michael some pajamas. He grabbed his own pair and began to change. He hung his flower crown haphazardly on the corner of his closet. 

  Walking behind a screen, Michael followed suit. Yuma’s clothes smelled like him, a mixture of incense and freshly cut wood. He held the pajamas up to his nose, breathing them in. If he could keep a bottle of this with him forever…

  He heard Yuma jumping into bed, the wooden frame creaking in protest. Quickly tossing his borrowed clothes on and hanging his flower crown on the corner of the screen, Michael ran out to meet him. 

  “Not bad!” said Yuma with a grin.

  Heat filled Michael’s cheeks. 

  “Thank you,” he said. 

  Hesitantly, he sat on the bed. It was as soft as his own, his body sinking into its soft folds. He wondered what the mattress was filled with. Looking up at the walls, he noticed that a few traditional Barian masks hung from them. There was Phecda, guardian of merchants. Alioth of the sunset. Merak of the warriors. Megrez, the maiden of marriage. He couldn’t help but think of the countless protagonists who had prayed to her in the face of an unwanted marriage. 

  “I always read that arranged marriages were loveless,” sighed Michael. 

  Yuma shrugged. 

  “I like you alot,” he said.

  Michael laid down next to Yuma and held his outstretched hand. 

  “Me too,” said Michael. 

  A moment of silence filled the room. Yuma let out a sigh. 

  “I can’t wait for my father to return,” he said. 

  Michael closed his eyes. He wished he could feel the same for his own father. 

  “I haven’t seen him in more than five years,” added Yuma. 

  “The way you wrote about him in the letters made you seem very close,” noted Michael. 

  “Yeah, you could put it that way,” murmured Yuma, a distant look in his eyes. 

  More silence. Michael used to despise such moments. It used to be overwhelming, a void he was surrounded by. His home was always silent. The emptiness that followed after an unanswered question always clung to his skin in sticky bits. The silence of the night felt as if the world had stopped and he would be trapped in the darkness forever. Now, it felt reassuring. 

  “After the war is over, will you take me to see the mountains as you promised me in your first letter?” asked Michael after a few breaths. 

  Yuma turned to Michael, tenderness filling his expression.

  “You still remember that?” he asked.

  “I’ve never forgotten,” replied Michael. 

  Yuma curls in on himself, heat filling his cheeks. 

  “I was nine at the time!” he protested.

  “And I loved you then,” said Michael. 

  “I thought you were too old,” said Yuma. 

  “Eleven isn’t old!” laughed Michael. 

  “To a nine year old, you seemed like an adult!”

  “I was not!”

  When he was told that he was to be married off to some child in a distant kingdom, he had run away and sobbed. No matter how much he had begged his father to reconsider, he remained adamant. 

  “Politics are an ugly game we all must play,” said his father as Michael hugged his legs. 

  Reluctantly, he had slunk off to read Yuma’s letters. They had seemed so silly at first, describing blue skies and the pranks he had played on his sister. Despite that, he felt a twinge of jealousy for Yuma’s easygoing letters. When did he ever get to play pranks on his brothers?

  The letters continued, one after another. Boating trips. Hunting trips. All of the treasures his father found throughout his battles. And then, slowly, he fell in love with Yuma’s earnestness. He dreamed of Astral’s blue skies and sunny shorelines. He imagined climbing mountains alongside the adventurous boy. 

  They could be happy together, couldn’t they?

  “You were my first friend,” murmured Michael. 

  Yuma glanced at Michael, surprise filling his expression. 

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Unlike the imaginary friends he made from his novels, Yuma was real. He was out there somewhere and one day, Michael would be able to hold his hand and talk to him. 

  “You didn’t even see my face until last year though,” said Yuma. 

  “I have a good imagination,” replied Michael.

  Messy black and red hair. Too-large red eyes. A perky button nose. Some chipped teeth. Freckles. An outfit that was always torn somewhere. In Michael’s imagination, Yuma had been a royal ragamuffin. 

  “Well…do I look like what you imagined?” Yuma ventured. 

  Michael quirked a smile.

  “Even better. Your teeth aren’t chipped for one.”

  Yuma let out a small laugh, warming Michael’s heart. In fact, he was just perfect. Michael could cup Yuma’s face in his hands and gently kiss his perfections forever.  

  “Hey, why don’t you tell me another of your stories?” asked Yuma, excitement filling his face. 

  “What stories?” asked Michael, raising a brow. 

  “You know. Of your life in Barian.”

  Michael pursed his lips. What was there to tell that he hadn’t told through his letters? He will never tell of the true nature of Thomas’ puppets. He will never talk about Christopher’s specialized diet and habit of collecting corpses. Most importantly, he will never talk about his father’s wretched body and cursed experiments. No mentions of loneliness. No mentions of the rats. No mentions of the jeering villagers when they had found out he had snuck out to join their harvest festival. 

  They had tossed tomatoes at him and cursed his bloodline. With fiery torches and stakes, they had chased him through the woods…

  No, he will never dredge up such sad memories again. 

  “Ah, well…”

  Oh. He knew one. 

  “Once Thomas attempted to make a puppet from a fish that lived in the Barian sea,” recounted Michael. 

  It was an ugly, blind creature with slippery scales and a multitude of thin long teeth. Thomas had dispatched it with a rock while he sang a sea shanty. Then, he had strung it up with sticks and twine. When it was complete, he had talked through it while flicking his lips back and forth with a finger. Michael had to admit, it did sound like a fish. 

  “It didn’t last for too long. Christopher sat on it and screamed like I had never heard him scream before,” he continued.  

  Yuma let out a laugh. 

  Christopher proceeded to savagely rip apart the fish with his bare teeth while Thomas wailed. 

  “My brother always checks his seat before sitting down now.”

  “Tell me another,” prompted Yuma. 

  Michael leaned back and tapped his chin. 

  “Ah…Christopher once fell in love with the court librarian’s daughter. He left her all sorts of awkward gifts.”

  Locks of his own hair, gathered from his baths. Ashes from cremated prisoners. Dead beetles arranged to spell out her name, FLORA. 

  “Eventually, he gathered up the courage to speak to her. She was quite frightened by his appearance and ran away the first few times.” 

  With Michael’s help, he had arranged the two to meet in the library. He remembered bribing the girl with chocolates he had received for his birthday. 

  “When he finally succeeded, he found that they liked reading the same books.”

  Books on the stars. Books on the celestial spheres. Things far, far away from the gloom of Barian. 

  Yes, his brother hadn’t always been such a taciturn cannibal. 

  “He wanted to marry her only after a week of meeting her. My father forbade it. Eventually, she married an alchemist from the neighboring village.” 

  Christopher had refused to come out of his dungeons for days afterwards. To this day, Michael suspected that his father had married Flora off. Regardless, his brother had never been the same. He spoke less, grunted more and distanced himself from his brothers. Before, Christopher had occasionally read books to Michael. He could even be convinced to speak to him if the topic was interesting enough. 

  Once Flora was sent away, the semblance of warmth in his brother had vanished. 

  A twinge filled Michael’s heart. He wondered if his brother would ever love again. 

  “Has anything like that happened to you?” he asked softly.

  A soft snore answered Michael. Turning to Yuma, Michael let out a small laugh at his husband’s sleeping face. The resolve to protect him strengthened. He would fight to the death if it meant Yuma could continue sleeping like this. Carefree, brilliant and curious…he had to preserve such innocence. Giving Yuma one last look, Michael closed his eyes and allowed Yuma’s snores to send him to sleep. 

<<Previous chapter

[guiltswept]

DRINK  DOWN  THAT  GIN  AND  KEROSENE  /  COME  SPIT  ON  BRIDGES  WITH  ME  /  JUST  TO  KEEP  US  WARM  /  LIGHT  A  MATCH  TO  LEAVE  ME  BE  /  LIGHT  A  MATCH  TO  LEAVE  ME  BE  —  MEET  PHILOMENA  CARMICHAEL.

...content warnings for... cancer, depersonalization / derealization disorder, implied body horror.

profile.

full name — philomena bronte carmichael.

nickname(s) — philly. phil. philbert. etc.

place of birth — woodside, california.

date of birth & age — april 20th, 1999. twenty5.

gender / pronouns — nonbinary, she/they ( subject to change at will ).

sexuality — demiromantic, demisexual.

occupation — "freelancer", whatever that means. doer of odd - jobs. crafter. jack of all trades.

astrology — taurus sun, cancer moon, leo rising.

residence — varies by day; some nights are spent in weaver inn, beneath cigarette - holed and coffee - stained sheets and wrapped in a sheath of mildew. other nights are spent on the couches of almost - strangers, buried between couch cushions.

interests —dreams, forever rare but always welcomed. warm lights and patterned glass. talking to the trees, listening to the leaves. the deep, dark woods. campfire smoke. hand - rolled cigarettes. upcycling. using all of the carcass. roller skates. welding, general metalwork. the accordion. bugs, of all kinds and in all forms. stepping barefoot into creeks. stickers. dad jokes and poor puns. training wild animals to do various tricks. clowns. thrifting. bartering rather than buying. trinkets that hold memories.

aversions — being underestimated. pollution; littering. long episodes that draw them too far from reality; the thought that they may never return. needless concerns, and others' worries. fear as a concept. those who hesitate in their actions. authoritative figures. the "demon" they unleashed in arizona that has been following them ever since. disagreements. being in one place for too long. getting caught. polyester. overly sweet foods, unless homemade. staring into their own reflection for too long.

quirks — cuts their own hair when they feel it'd grown too long, often without notice. regularly recycles their clothing until they've served their purpose. steps in every puddle, but never the leaves. believes in everything unless given a reason otherwise. is incredibly morally grey, and entirely selfish when need ( or want ) to be. names every animal they stumble across. performs monthly rituals that require varying degrees of nakedness. collects moth wings and animal teeth.

most played — moonage daydream by david bowie.

notable features — bangs cut with a blunt blade and a too - sharp jaw. unsettling eyes; wide, unblinking.

general disposition — waifish but sturdy; the last branch that refuses to fall from a long - dead tree despite wavering against the wind. off - putting.

character study — cassie ainsworth ( skins ) & violet baudelaire ( a series of unfortunate events ).

background.

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. their parents are eccentric. they’re both in love with their respective topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

CANCER; hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made. it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later. it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday. they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine and fleetwood mac.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live. elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end. it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION / MINOR BODY HORROR; it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they stay home for six months until their therapist figures out the problem: depersonalization and derealization disorder. they think it’s stress; but philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma, and she laughs - she never laughs. their memories are heavy, spotty; something unwilling to emerge. philomena doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to remember; the scent of decay, the feeling of rot.

philomena and elektra leave home again after that and do not return. there’s too much concern, too much care; philomena feels suffocated in doctor’s visits and their parents’ worry. they know it’s well - intentioned, but philomena was never meant to stick to one place for very long, and neither was elektra.

elektra and philomena have visited every state, gone into canada, down into mexico. they’ve traveled the perimeter of the country three times; and have passed through blue harbor at least twice as many times. 

after warrants for their arrest in florida, and a brief stunt in a texan prison; philomena and elektra travel up to blue harbor once again. it’s familiar, and has just a large enough population that they can go unnoticed. they have ties there, from their years of pit stops. it’s supposed to be temporary, as their visits always are; but their trusted van breaks down, and they’re left to live in the weaver inn until further notice.

facts & temperaments.

has a very quiet, gravelly voice that seems to travel with ease, like a warning from the woods. this is because philly is a chronic smoker.

often underestimated because they look like a lost victorian child with a frail frame and wide, unblinking eyes. never blinks. like ever.

despite often looking expressionless, philly is known to smile on occasion. but they've never laughed or cried in their life.

talks to the trees and the grass and every fungi and bug they come across like they can understand them. talks about a lot of different things, often the mystical. believes in every superstition, and every folklore, and just about any non-harmful conspiracy. the moon IS made of cheese, your honor.

takes luck very seriously and has a few treasured good luck items; the primary one being a pale, yellow ribbon that is usually tied to either them or an article of their clothing.

is very deadpan, monotone. talks about the positives the same as the negatives, and usually has a reason behind their every action even if the reason is unknown / unfathomable to others.

they wound up dropping out of high school when they were 17 but they did get a GED. they're smart just so uninterested in school as a concept. thinks it's restrictive and hates feeling trapped or caged in.

apathetic towards most situations and people, but it's not a pessimistic apathetic. philly is just a very detached person, for the most part. there are the occasional exceptions. also loves a good knock-knock joke, or pun, but will still never laugh. just finds them really enjoyable.

keeps a shoebox of memories that are just sentimental bits and bots and other good luck charms.

owns a motorola razr covered in puffy sticker. TEXTS IN ALL CAPS ONLY. emoticons all the way.

always covered in scratches or bruises from their adventures. insomniac, usually found walking the night.

style depends on what they've thrifted, patched up, re-donated, etc. always changing, never stagnant. usually wearing loose clothing. usually barefoot (yuck!). makes their own jewelry and other hand-crafts.

mostly just steals from stores n dines n dashes but is trying to not get arrested! they do not have the bail money while florence is getting fixed.

couch-surfing or motel living right now because there's not many other choices. can usually find their way into a stranger's home for the night, though nothing occurs. sometimes they don't even know they're there!

usually has three different wild animals with them at all times. big fan of rats and raccoons. they train them to do fun little tricks and is trying to start a cruelty-free animal circus.

[kismetharborapps]

ooc information

name: Justin

preferred pronouns: He/Him

age: 28

timezone: EST

activity level: Three times a week

triggers: None

anything else?: N/A

character information

name: Vincent Castro

faceclaim: alfonso herrera

gender & pronouns: Male He/Him 

age:  40

birthday:  January/15/1984

place of birth: Taos, New Mexico

occupation: Psychologist  

neighborhood: Cresthill Meadows

time since arriving in kismet harbor: Since 2006

filling a wanted connection?: Yes. (Diego’s older brother and Christopher Sharpe husband

biography: 

Vincent is one of the oldest of a large family, living and growing up in Taos, New Mexico. Their household was large, made up of his siblings, parents, and grandparents. Vincent was someone who worked hard especially since his parents worked two jobs and his grandparents working hard to support the family. Vincent knew the value of hard work and did not mind looking after his siblings and supporting his family.

Vincent worked hard in school, balancing his studies and part-time job to make sure that their family make ends meet. There were times that things were a struggle, and those tough times made him so very much determined to be successful, to push to be better. He wanted to make something of himself so that he could support his family, make sure that they had everything they needed. Vincent hard work did pay off and he ended up getting a full ride scholarship.

During university, Vincent took an interest in psychology and determined that he wanted to be a psychologist. He completed his undergraduate and masters. Vincent had always been good with people, always there to offer a listening ear and helping people work through things. He is also open minded and collected, so being a psychologist was the perfect path for him.

Vincent had always believed of going with the flow which worked his extroverted nature, always meeting new people, hanging out and making new friends. Vincent always believed in love; The first date with his husband did not go well and after that night, the psychologist accepted the fact, but fate had other things in mind. He had met his husband again and then three years later they got into a relationship adopting two kids and now married for five years. Vincent knows he is blessed and never takes things for granted.

pets: None

town activities: Boundless Bookwarms, Budding Minds, Knit Happens

draw of luck: Yes

[denimbex1986]

'In his 1987 Nobel lecture, Joseph Brodsky said, anthropologically speaking, a human being is primarily a creature of aesthetics, and only after, an ethical one.

This assertion sounds true in the case of J. Robert Oppenheimer. The scientific leaps in the field of quantum physics fascinated Oppenheimer. He was driven to follow the path of Niels Bohr and Werner Heisenberg. Returning from Cambridge to expand his research in Berkeley, he fell into the arms of the American state and became part of the Manhattan Project to develop an atomic bomb.

It is comic irony that Lewis Strauss, who secretly plotted against Oppenheimer, was forced to work as a shoe salesman during the recession, while Oppenheimer achieved the distinction of Edward Teller calling him, “the great salesman of science.” This explains the moral turn in the life of Oppenheimer. Christopher Nolan likened his character to the titan Prometheus, though midway he seemed to metamorphose into Frankenstein. The hamartia of Oppenheimer’s life, Aristotle’s term for the Greek tragic hero’s fatal flaw, turned into a modern horror story.

The poet Joseph Brodsky’s distinction becomes relevant at this point: Oppenheimer abandoned the moral for the aesthetic. My scholar friend (who wishes to remain unnamed) shared the opinion that Oppenheimer, initially lost in the beauty of pure theory, transforms that aesthetic obsession into a monstrous one. She added the sharp insight: “Oppenheimer tells himself a lie. That the bomb has a moral end.” The act of lying to oneself produced a psychic wound within Oppenheimer. He lost sight of the moral aspect within his aesthetic pursuit. The lie made the transformation possible. The sublime beauty of studying quantum physics was ruined the moment Oppenheimer decided to use his expertise for a detrimental cause.

The sale of his scientific skills to the American state for making the bomb had a clear political objective for Oppenheimer: to finish off Hitler. This logic led him to overcome the moral dilemma behind his job. Any force that can destroy evil is legitimate. The destructive power of science was a seductive option to nullify the power of fascism. The Jewish Oppenheimer did not have his revenge over the Nazis (who were already defeated when the bomb was ready). The American state used it against a weakened Japan to declare its omnipotence.

Young Oppenheimer’s interest in T.S. Eliot’s ‘The Wasteland’ and the Gita has a deep connection: Eliot’s poem ends by evoking the Upanishad, “Shantih shantih shantih”, a peace of the grave that fell upon a world torn apart by the end of World War I and the flu epidemic. Oppenheimer’s translation of the line from the Gita, “I am become Death, destroyer of worlds” was what Krishna said about his divinity being time itself that destroys the world at will. It was meant to exhort a weak-kneed Arjuna (who did not want to kill his cousins, seniors and kinsmen), reminding him of his duty as a warrior to prepare him for battle. The figure of divine incarnation and warrior-prince got fused into the scientist who invented a weapon that could kill millions.

Oppenheimer’s interest in the evocative moments in the two texts shows a certain death wish he carried within himself. When you are hell-bent to destroy the enemy, you are also out to kill a part of yourself through the act of retributive justice.

Oppenheimer was not able to distinguish between the ethical difference between annihilating a system of power and annihilating people. This failure, however, is an intimate part of the modern West’s history. It produced ideas of the state – fascism, communism and imperial democracies – where the other within and outside one’s ideological fold was demonised as the absolute enemy and was meant to be exterminated. Making the bomb to be used for war, Oppenheimer not just used science as a tool for destruction, but created an ideology of science as divine power that could kill uncountable numbers of people as much as it could heal the world.

It has been acknowledged that Nolan did not glorify war by not showing the bomb being dropped on the two Japanese cities. Still, as my scholar friend pointed out, Nolan could not prevent himself from indulging in Hollywood’s fetish for spectacle. There was a clear lack of self-restraint. The slow-motion explosion of the bomb that filled the screen numbed the audience, and engulfed it into the terror of its silence.

Contrast it with Abbas Kiarostami, who did not display the earthquakes that rocked Iran in Koker Trilogy in order to portray its psycho-social repercussion on the lives of residents who suffered its impact. Kiarostami’s art of filmmaking is deeply informed by his ethical hesitation.

Nolan had more reasons to hold back from depicting the technological grandeur of an instrument of death. The temptation to recreate the spectacle is not simply an aesthetic flaw.

The euphoria of the scientific feat was viscerally exhibited by bodies of people stomping the floor of the hall celebrating Oppenheimer. It announced the coming of a new crowd in world history that took nationalist pride in mass destruction of other people. Oppenheimer looked conflicted, remorseful and eaten by guilt. But there were no indications to suggest he completely regretted his success. Truman, embodying the masculine pragmatism of the American state, lampooned Oppenheimer as “crybaby”. No one cared about the real babies in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Such is the moral indifference of war. It causes deafness of the soul.'

[mohg-lover]

Clone High(2002-2003)

Clone High(2002-2003) or Clone High USA in the United States was the breakout creation for now prolific filmmaking duo Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, it was directed by Ted Collyer and Harold Harris, spanning 13 episodes. The series was developed while Phil and Chris were studying at Dartmouth College and was purchased by MTV in early 2000. The concept itself was an easy sell for the duo, Clone High is a satirization and parody of teen/highschool dramas of the time, with the group of adolescence being composed of teenage clones of past historical figures. The main characters are clones of Abe Lincoln, Cleopatra, Gandhi, Joan of Arc and JFK and the drama that is consistent throughout the series is a love triangle between Abe, Cleo and Joan. Aside from the Love plot the show goes in any direction it pleases while loosely fitting around subjects featured in the programs they are parodying, such as episodes covering drugs, littering, makeovers and prom. Its wild storytelling is accompanied by an uncompromising art style. Utilizing traditional cel animation sharp, shapely and lively characters fit together in a style comparable to UPA(“United Productions of America”, similar to Canada’s NFB) animations of the 1950s and 60s. 

The series was planned for a second season after but was pulled from MTVs broadcasting after receiving poor reviews and a serious controversy over the depiction of a young Gandhi in the show. One of the baseline jokes of the series is the clones of the historical figures showcase the opposite traits of their real life counterparts, for example, the clone of Abe Lincoln is indecisive and unable to resolve conflict in most cases. In the case of Gandhi, he is a party animal that craves acceptance and is the comic relief character of the show. This raised a huge controversy in India, causing more than 100 people to go on a hunger strike, forcing MTV to cancel the series at the risk of losing their market in the region.  

This setback would not keep the duo down as they would continue producing animation, now moving onto feature film with the release of Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs in 2003. They would have their hand in writing and co-writing many other great animated films such as The Lego Movie, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse and The Mitchells vs. the Machines.

References:

[qqueenofhades]

uhh, this is kind of broad? I think? but what makes the medieval period different from the early modern period and what marked the transition between the two?

If you want the dictionary definition, "medieval" is generally accepted as the years between 500 (roughly correspondent to the fall of the Western Roman Empire in 476) to 1500, and "early modern" refers to approximately 1500 to 1800. Obviously, a thousand years is a lot longer than three hundred, which reflects the exponential growth and complexity of the post-1500 world. There are a few reasons for picking this as the chronological divide, including most obviously Christopher Columbus (boo, hiss) and the connection of Europe to the Americas in 1492, which began the Columbian Exchange of agriculture, gold, sugar, and other key products. It was supported by the development of transatlantic slavery, imperialism, colonialism, and the overall deliberate construction of (European) nation-states on the back of these new opportunities for large-scale economic and physical exploitation, which simply had not been possible in the medieval era.

You sometimes see Bad Takes that assume all of civilization shut down after the fall of Rome, the Dark Ages happened for a thousand years and humanity forgot everything it had ever known, and then it all magically restarted during the Renaissance with complicated financial, political, and cultural systems that... just sprang out of nothing, I guess. The medieval period was crucial for developing the systems, states, and intellectual bedrocks which early modernism then accelerated. A few key differences include:

The medieval world(s) were much more self-contained. We can speak of medieval Europe, medieval Africa, medieval Asia, etc, but while connections between them were not totally unknown, they existed largely in their own separate cultural and political spheres simply due to the difficulties of travel and communication across such long distances. America was unknown (to the Europeans, that is); Australia existed only as a theoretical concept; geography was much more speculative and economies were still intensely localized. The early modern period, with the so-called "voyages of discovery" as Europeans went places they hadn't been before and generally put Indigenous and native people in for a bad time, laid the foundations for a globalized economy in which people, goods, and services flowed across national and international borders, including over very long distances.

As noted, this included slavery, colonialism, imperialism, and other exploitative, conquest-minded political structures that rested on long-term, large-scale subjection of overseas lands and required the invention of an explicit racial theory to underpin their actions. Race was a fairly murky concept in the medieval world; it certainly existed as a distinction and point of discrimination, but it was regarded as mutable, largely tied to religious identity and moral character rather than biology. The early modern world, requiring intellectual justification for European domination and its attendant brutality, was the inventor of explicit racism and racialized "scientific" theory.

The Renaissance wasn't the "flowering" of a sophisticated and educated culture that had somehow been missing in the medieval world to that point, although that was certainly how its wealthy Italian propagandists painted it. While some of the supposedly-rediscovered ancient texts were genuinely unknown, most of them had been studied for a long time (especially in the Islamic world), and it represented a deliberate attempt to re-engineer society in the model of antiquity, which was supposedly humanity's golden age. This included, as I have written about before, the sharp restriction of the intellectual and social freedoms that women had increasingly enjoyed in the late medieval era. Most of the misogynistic legal attitudes and explicitly discriminatory gender assumptions that people refer to as "medieval" were, in fact, a product of the Renaissance. I always like to remind people that witch trials were not medieval; they were a solidly early modern phenomenon, and reflected anxieties over both the liberalization and restriction of gender roles.

The Renaissance did, however, lay the foundation for modern-style state capitalism, as said wealthy Italian participants created a distinct political and financial model that was included in its package of "model" culture, and which other European states tried to emulate alongside its artistic and literary pursuits. This involved the rise of political philosophers such as Machiavelli, Hakluyt, Montesquieu, Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, etc., and a more bureaucratic, centralized state. The king was still generally the ultimate authority figure in most European states, but wealthy nobles, merchants, and gentry classes had increasing political power in consultatory and advisory bodies such as the English Parliament, and it reached the point of openly deposing (and even executing) monarchs who were deemed insufficiently reactive to the public good. Political systems became much less dependent on personal networks and private preferences, and were instead formalized under public laws.

Likewise, the religious landscape of Europe became far more complicated, as the Protestant Reformation challenged and eventually overthrew Catholicism's long-established position as the only religious authority in (Western) Europe. (We should, however, not forget Orthodox Christianity in the East.) Islam also began to move into areas heretofore regarded as European, including the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople in 1453 and the subsequent successful annexation of the western and southern Balkans; they also penetrated deep into Hungary and Austria. While the crusades and the attendant conflicts between Christians and Muslims had formed a backbone of medieval foreign policy, these battles had largely taken place in either the Middle East or places regarded as only peripherally European (the Baltic states, the Kievan Rus', and Scandinavia). This readjusting of imperial boundaries was both combative and cooperative; Elizabethan England, for example, had a surprisingly close relationship with the Muslim world. This ultimately led to the wars of religion and the reshaping of European national identity around Protestantism or Catholicism.

Anyway: race, gender, law, religion, economy, politics, and culture all shifted, oftentimes drastically, and not always for the best. The world became much more interconnected, but often through institutionalizing new systems of large-scale exploitation and cruelty, and we're still dealing with many of their legacies today.

[watermelonsandalts3]

Artie Pendragon (Shrek the Third)

This download is for The Sims 3.

Download [MTS]

Arthur “Artie” Pendragon (Justin Timberlake) is the deuteragonist of Shrek the Third (2007) and later the new King of Far Far Away.

Artie was dumped at Worcestershire Academy by his father (presumed to be Uther Pendragon) at a young age, whom he never saw again. His life at Worcestershire was one of constant torment and bullying from bigger, stronger students, and even nerds and members of the student body. Matters weren’t helped by the fact that he had no friends to turn to, and his lack of confidence. When he meets Shrek, Artie is a 16-year-old recluse being called to inherit the throne of Far Far Away following the death of King Harold. He initially gets excited at the premise of Kingship, but then tries to bail out after learning of all of the responsibilities that it involves. However, by the end of the film, he shows himself as having a head to fit the crown.

Artie is generally an outcast, brought on by constant bullying and a lack of confidence. Behind this, he has a good heart, an astute way with words, and a sharp sense of bravery.

Artie is absent from Shrek Forever After (2010); he was meant to appear in three scenes, but all three were cut from the movie.

His Traits are Brave, Brooding, Friendly, Shy, and Socially Awkward.

His Lifetime Wish is Leader of the Free World.

His favourites are Mac and Chesse, Pop, and Violet.

He uses voice 1.

His Zodiac sign is Leo.

I’ve always felt that Artie is an extremely obscure character, despite being part of the greatest and most famous animated movie franchises of all time. He appears in just this one movie, which is often considered the worst of the four, and the franchise seems to completely forget about him after the events of this movie; he doesn’t even get a passing mention in the final movie. His fanbase is small (if any), and some see him as a mere excuse to shoehorn in another celebrity voice actor, on top of the starry cast that the franchise had garnered at that point.

It was this feeling that started this project. After seven months (on and off) of pulling at sliders and obsessing over little details, what you’re seeing here was actually made from scratch about a week ago, cloned from my trusty base, Christopher Steel from Sunset Valley. For fun I gave him a modern outfit inspired by his in-movie outfit and concept art of King Artie. Maybe he didn’t become King – maybe he went on to study medieval literature and history at university and finally made some friends. Who knows?

Now that I’ve finished talking, hope you have fun playing him in your games!

[wheredemdokis]

[tastebreaker review] Law School (no spoilers)

Sometimes, I wish I could have a shrine for all the cerebral media that I consumed, because it definitely is my favourite archetype. Death Note was a masterpiece that I hungrily binged in one day - similarly with Psycho Pass (though I haven't watched the second season due to most of the reviews I have read). This extend well into non-anime media for me - State of Play (with Russell Crowe, Ben Affleck and Rachel McAdams) remains one of my favourite movies, Inception and, well, honestly anything by Christopher Nolan, and I have recently began watching The Matrix as well.

And so, the thirst for real mystery and brain games was quenched when I started watching Law School, with Kim Myung-min, Kim Beom and Ryu Hye-young, directed by Kim Suk-yoon. Needless to say, throughout the whole trip, I was hooked, counting down days until the next episode came... but towards the end - an unpopular opinion - I was actually quite disappointed.

And so, before you start your cross-examination, allow me to present my findings first.

- How did I start watching this?

My friend and I were looking around for something to binge on Netflix and forget about COVID-19. This series popped up, and the moment I read the title, my sapiosexual senses were tingled.

- And how was it?

Very good!... until the ending came. ;w;

- Genres & overarching themes?

Genres: Mystery, Thriller, Psychological

Overarching themes: murder mystery, law vs justice, intelligence (as in, the characters are all really smart hahah)

- Plot: 4/5

It could have been a high four, near five if it wasn't for the ending, frankly. The first episode started out with Professor Seo Byung-ju of Hankuk Law School dead, and the spotlight shines on Professor Yang Jong-hoon (the man in the poster above), the first suspect. But was it really him? From then, the mystery unfolds as our favourite study group (who shall be very well elaborated on later in this review) launches itself into investigation for true justice.

The series started out extremely strong in my opinion, with its first few episodes filled with twists and sub-plots that were waiting to get wrapped up. Every episode just leaves you gripping on the sides of your seat in suspense. It really makes you doubt every single person that appeared on-screen and watch out for anything that happens - the show uses the Chekhov's Gun trope really well. As the knots become unravelled, we gain more depth into the characters. However, as we near the end - about two-three episodes for me - the show started to lose its thrust, falling into a comfortable stereotype that made things rather frustrating.

One of the major advantages of Law School, in my opinion, is its ability to twist and turn everything. It prompts the viewers to realize that when the case is really examined in a whole different angle, with more and more evidence coming to light, everything changes. The use of different suspects' stories being told in each episode is a pleasure to watch - the viewers feel like an omniscient judge, overseeing the motives and evidence to draw out a conclusion for themselves on who might be the murderer. The series prompts the viewers to think, which is a trend I really like. It's also interesting to question why characters do certain things they do. Professor Yang Jong-hoon (my favourite character!), for example, is a very... chaotic (haha) character, who keeps on surprising people with his actions - yet, his actions are all elaborate executions of his strategy, a whole plan that he has concocted which accounted for multiple steps ahead, thanks to his extremely sharp vision of what could happen. Thus, it is extremely satisfying when everything falls into place as Yangcrates (a nickname he earned due to his Socratic teaching) explains everything that led up to a particular tense moment where the truth was unveiled.

Yet... this very trope had its downfall near the end. The murderer was so heavily shadowed on in the beginning that the viewers would have expected the murderer to be someone else completely unexpected, a mastermind that pulled the strings behind all the proceedings. Yet, the murderer and the mastermind behind the murder were someone so... I dare say, unimpressive. I mean, this particular 'mastermind' behind the murder fell into so many traps! The murderer was definitely my major disappointment - the villain was a weak character, an unsatisfying antagonist that the intelligent heroes, once having figured who he/she is, didn't even break a sweat to bring to light. The last, final twist that was supposed to be the most glamorous of them all, completely knocking the viewers off their feet, fell completely flat.

Secondly, whilst having a lot of sub-plots still remains a favourite trope of mine as I'd expect everything to wrap up nicely near the end... well, it didn't. Whilst most sub-plots were hastily answered, there was one particular sub-plot which was just left completely unaddressed (for those who have watched it, it's about J****s), and unless they're hinting at a second season where this would be further elaborated on, this was a dead-end sub-plot, a plot with no elaboration or continuation whatsoever.

Overall, the plot was breathtaking in the beginning. It lost momentum very near the end, and wrapped everything up with an anticlimactic last episode.

- Characters: 4.7/5

Definitely the strongest set of characters I've seen in a Korean drama, frankly. All characters were so well utilised, each having their own quirks and flaws which were delightful to watch. Everyone was so, so intelligent, that they honestly were the main fuel to the series, our main stars.

Allow me to first start off with my favourite character, Professor Yang Jong-hoon. Stoic, yet with an extremely savage side that he does not hesitate to show to anyone of any ranks or social standings, Yangcrates carefully plots everything, always thinks, questions, and then thinks even more. Intelligence-wise, this man is most definitely the smartest on-screen persona I've seen in the Korean drama franchise - able to see miles ahead and figure out all the answers down to their root, he is someone that definitely earns all the respect he has, from both his students and viewers alike. Personality-wise, this man is equally interesting as he is smart. With a cold exterior, Yangcrates does not take any bullshit (cue a particularly funny water spitting scene), and does not hold back harsh words to point it out. Yet, underneath this cold exterior is a burning desire to find the absolute truth, which would in turn bring justice to ones who have been wronged (refer to a particular lecture-like speech he made in episode 10), and a passion for teaching his students. He secretly cares for his students a lot, and expresses it in his own way.

Next, our favourite study group - a group of capable, enticing individuals. Firstly, we have Han Joon-hwi, a complex character that always pursues justice and fairness. His intelligence shines through with the way he, firstly, is able to take advantage of his sharp understanding of law into the case, and his careful processing of the evidence he gathers during investigation. Whilst he always keeps a cold head when needed, he has an equally warm heart, genuinely caring for wronged and innocent people. His expressions were all extremely raw and did not feel fake at all - really, props to his actor. More on this later.

Then, we have the two girls - Kang Sol A and Kang Sol B. Don't be fooled by their names - they are very much polar opposites. Whilst Kang Sol A is excitable and wears her heart on her sleeve (sometimes a bit too much), Kang Sol B always keeps a cool head, sometimes taking it to the extreme. I do admit that if I had to pick out of the two, though I love both of them very, very much, I'd probably lean a bit more towards Kang Sol A - even though she definitely gets on my nerves sometimes because of her overload of emotions that could be disruptive, she has her frequent bouts of creativity and "a-ha!" moments that display her underrated intelligence (I'm always soft for underdogs that are underestimated by everyone, only to turn the table on them later). She is also an extremely loyal friend and a very generous individual that isn't afraid to place herself in danger just to help others - overall, a very warm person. Kang Sol B, on the other hand - perhaps due to her family environment - does not really taking other people's emotions into consideration, though I really, really admire her for her intelligence, her ability to always keep a calm head (making her the blue counterpart to Kang Sol A's red), as well as her straightforwardness which has proven many times to be necessary to push the case forward. She does have a soft spot, though - a very adorable one at that. These two make an extremely adorable pair of friends.

My favourite student of the study group must be Seo Ji-ho. I'd say he's a less intimidating version of Kang Sol B hahah - cool and composed, Ji-ho is a reliable member who always pursues logic and reason first. He is also driven to achieve his goal and, like Joon-hwi, utilizes his deep understanding about law very well to solve his own case, his sub-plot. Though his sub-plot eventually was wrapped up as an open ending, it was a nice sub-plot to watch. Not to mention his dynamic with Joon-hwi is very adorable as well - the two really balance each other out.

Other students also have their own quirks and flaws, but for the sake of this review's length, I won't elaborate them as much - but I will say they are all a delight to watch, adding their own personal elements to the overall study group. I will definitely miss this set of characters so, so much. ;-;

- Acting: 4.4/5

Frankly, perhaps because of some K-drama series I have watched, I had a problem with acting in some K-drama series - the actors and actresses did not feel genuine, and they either overacted, pushing their expressions to the extreme, or underacted, simply being way too... stiff (some of my personal favourite actors and actresses so far are Kim Seon-ho, whose theatrical experiences probably really helped with his very natural acting, Jo Jung-seok, and Kim Hye-yoon, an actress who impressed me with both of her most popular series - hope to see her versatility shine through with more diverse roles though). This series, however, is a definite favourite of mine in terms of acting. Firstly, Kim Myung-min is a veteran actor that deserves so much respect - he basically morphed into Yangcrates. I absolutely loved the way he delivered his dialogues - very long ones! - without even so much as taking a breath in between - it was smooth and the flow was excellent.

Kim Beom also became one of my favourite actors after this series - the way he handled his role was so good, his expressions, actions, everything. I noticed that he's very good with his eyes, if that's the right way to put it - he is very good at displaying emotions with them, all emotions ranging from sadness to adoration (towards a particular someone *wink*). It's a top-notch skill, really, and I'm glad to have seen him on-screen. Similarly, Ryu Hye-young impressed me so, so much that I shall add her to my list of favourite actresses as well - I can't spoil, but she is really able at... altering her vibes, yes. She seems to have studied her character really carefully too, being able to bring all Sol A's quirks to real life. Other actors and actresses were amazing, but for me, these three definitely shone.

- Doki moments?

Ah. Definitely some between Sol A and Joon-hwi, as a lot of other people have commented. From the way they tease each other to the way he cares about her every little thing, the way he stares at her, the way his whole demeanor just changes around her and the way she unknowingly influences him so much - they do balance each other out really well, Joonhwi being the cool to Sol A's warm. I do find myself thinking Sol B and Ji-ho would be rather compatible as well (also, them being study rivals in high school? My rivals-to-lovers side is ready).

- Enjoyment: 4/5

Again, could have been higher if it wasn't for the ending! But yes, overall, a whole trip worth embarking on.

- Overall: 4.2/5

Really, could have been higher... but yes, still an excellent show. I just hope they could have had more episodes to really wrap everything up nicely and maybe throw us one final, absolutely ground-breaking twist.

- Watch it or neh?

Yes, please do watch it! And let me know how it goes, too. ;3

[mylifeincinema]

My Best of 2020: My Top 10 Films!

It’s time! What a weird, shitty year 2020 was. But hey, at least we had some good movies to keep us from going completely crazy. A quick reminder that My Top 10 Films aren’t necessarily my list of the ‘best’, or ‘my favorite’, but a mix of the two, taking both sides of the A&E into equal consideration.

Before we dive into things, here are some Honorable Mentions, all of which came very close to breaking into the Top 10: Steve McQueen’s Lovers Rock; Kelly Reichardt’s First Cow; Christopher Landon’s Freaky; Aaron Sorkin’s The Trial of the Chicago 7; Spike Lee’s Da 5 Bloods; and Leigh Whannell’s The Invisible Man.

And finally, without further ado…

My Top 10 Films of 2020!!

10. Andrew Patterson’s The Vast of Night

This is a tight, simple, incredibly atmospheric sci-fi film. I loved almost every second, but especially Patterson’s choices throughout; from intimate long takes to sprawling tracking shots to jarring editing, he brings us into this quaint and quiet small town as if we were passers by stumbling onto these odd and eerie events right alongside these characters.

9. Armando Iannucci’s The Personal History of David Copperfield

Incredibly likable, and chock-full of some incredible production design and a fantastic cast bringing to life these wonderfully enjoyable characters. I do have some slight issues with the framing device, and how inconsistent and awkward it occasionally feels, but mostly this is a crowd-pleasing adaptation of a major piece of literature.

8. Autumn de Wilde’s Emma.

Anya Taylor-Joy is perfect. And while Autumn de Wilde’s direction occasionally stumbles late in the second act, she nails the bigger moments and delivers on the heart as effectively as the humor. This is also further proof that Bill Nighy should probably just be cast in everything. All-in-all, this is the best adaptation of Austen’s work I’ve come across, yet.

7. Spike Lee’s David Byrne’s American Utopia

A very small number of Lee’s choices didn’t quite work for me, but David Byrne is a creative genius, and above all else, this is very much Byrne being Byrne… which is to say, absolutely brilliant!

6. Christopher Nolan’s Tenet

Probably the most Christopher Nolan movie of all Christopher Nolan movies. Plotted to a fault, and requiring a fair majority of the dialogue to be straight exposition, this time-bending sci-fi thriller puts on bold display all of Nolan’s strengths as a director and strengths and weaknesses as a storyteller.

But as long as Nolan keeps f*cking with time, I’m on board.

I had a blast with this one, and was a cinema-going experience I needed, at the very moment I needed it.

5. Pete Docter’s Soul

Creative, poignant, beautifully animated and acted, and a whole bunch of other traits we’ve come to know and love from Pixar. Is this the best Pixar film we’ve been gifted? No. But is it the best Pixar film (and animated film, period) we’ve been gifted in 2020? Definitely.

4. Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman

What a powerhouse late season ace in the hole. Emerald Fennell turns in a debut as unpredictable and excitingly dark as it is assured and technically sharp. And Carey Mulligan is probably at her very, very best (well, maybe behind Shame?) and that’s saying A LOT! The needle drops are as bizarre as the writing is sharp. It explores its themes without ever resorting to whining about them. And it all has a vicious bite.

3. David Fincher’s Mank

An incredible piece of showbiz cinema. Mank is a celebration of the rebellion behind the creation of one of the very best pieces of cinema to ever come out of Hollywood, and an introspective glance at the destructive nature of alcoholism and ego. Fincher weaves together a fascinating character study that skewers the political and creative hypocrisy of 1930s Hollywood while simultaneously reveling in its subject’s own hypocritical air of moral superiority.

2. Max Barbakow’s Palm Springs

I instantly fell in love with this one. Samberg and Milioti are very well matched, and bring emotion to the film while never letting its humor fall flat. It has a ton of fun with the time-loop formula and never gets too repetitive or sloppy. And it has some amazing moments for the amazing J.K. Simmons… so there’s that, too.

And The Best Film of 2019 is…

1. Paul Greengrass’ News of the World

Tom Hanks is a powerhouse, and the writing paired with Paul Greengrass’ direction makes for an intensely human western. I’ve seen a lot of mixed reactions to this one, but for me, everything worked perfectly.

Thank you for reading…

Enjoy!

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.

More of My Best of 2020…

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part V

Author’s Notes: Hey all you cool cats and kittens (she did it), here is Part V of my Jordelia (and friends) fanfiction based off of the lovely characters from Cassandra Clare’s novel Chain of Gold. The song sung in the dream sequence is a Persian Children’s song called You Are The Sky's Great Moon. I’m not sure of the author, unfortunately, but it was not me. I just thought it fit so perfectly for how Cordelia feels about her friends and how they feel about her. I am terribly sorry about the wait on this one, but it’s quite possibly my favorite piece yet. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, if this did tickle your fancy, please hit the <3, reblog, or pop in with a comment. Comments grow my heart and fill me with motivation. Stay safe. Stay healthy. Stay sane. We’re almost out of the woods.

P.S- This one might require some reading of the previous parts. So, here they are in order if you want to catch up:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

                                                           .Part V.

Cordelia stood in the center of the ballroom of the London institute. It was larger than she remembered it: empty now of the elaborately dressed guests, the waiting staff, the noise of the quartet, and tables of food. The curtains were all drawn away from the arched cathedral windows illuminated the space in the warm light of the auspicious London sun burning away the last hours it had in the sky. The distant London skyline was bathed in blue with not a cloud to be seen for miles. No smoke billowed into the sky from factories or chimneys; no boats crowded the harbors as if she were looking at a picture of London. It felt so warm to be in the light, she wanted nothing more than to bath it in and never leave. 

A light pressure wrapped around her elbow. She turned around to and found herself facing her mother, with her dark hair loose in curls to her waist, standing in front of her.

“Mâmân?” Relief filled her as she wrapped her arms around Sona’s waist and buried her face in her shoulder.

“Layla.” Her mother’s hand slid down the back of Cordelia’s head, fingers sliding through the tendrils. “Do you remember that song we used to sing together when you were a child?"

Sona grabbed Cordelia’s hand; the other pressed against her shoulder blade and suddenly they were dancing across the room. An odd thing, to be dancing with one’s mother, but Cordelia didn’t mind. A smile spread across her face as she matched her mother’s footwork as they spun around the room. 

“It’s been such a long time since we sang it,” said Sona. “I cannot seem to remember how it begins.”

Sona released Cordelia in a spin, the delicate soutache embroidered golden mesh of her dress billowed out around her ankles, and when she turned back around Lucie was standing in her mother’s place. Her tawny hair was twisted back in an intricate braid and her eyes, the same intense blue as the Tenerife sea, glistened as she grabbed Cordelia’s hand. Cordelia had never realized how lacking in height Lucie was— but then Lucie had never invited her to dance. 

“If you are the sky’s great moon.” Lucie’s clear voice filled the empty ballroom as she began reciting the childhood lullaby as they floated in a semi-circle around the room. “I’ll become a star and go around you.”

Lucie paused and stepped away from Cordelia, their hands outstretched, but still clasped together like when they were children swinging around in a circle until they both collapsed from dizziness.

Lucie let go and looked over Cordelia’s shoulder. She turned around just as Matthew strolled across the room in a pinstripe suit and picked her up under the arms and lifted her off of the floor. “If you become a star and go around me, I’ll become a cloud and cover your face.” 

Just as he set her back on her feet, a hand clasped her own and spun her around. “Thomas?”

He turned and shuffled down the room with her beside him. “If you become a cloud and cover my face.”

“I’ll become the rain and will rain down.” She turned to her right to find Christopher.

They raised her arms and both bent at the waist in a bow before disappearing like the rest. Anna came from behind her and walked in a small perimeter around her. Cordelia’s eyes trailed her every step. “If you become the rain and rain down.” 

Alastair walked in the opposite direction of Anna. “I’ll become grass and spring.” The crossed each other and disappeared to opposite sides of the room, leaving Cordelia in the center, right underneath the three tiered crystal chandelier.

A hand slide around her waist. She felt the feather light tickle of fingers sliding down the bare skin of her arm until fingers slide into the spaces between her own. A body pressed firmly against hers from behind. The hand tightened around her middle and she felt someone’s breath on the exposed skin of her neck. “Daisy, my Daisy.”

There was only one boy who called her that.

She spun around to face him. She was so close to him she could see the faint random freckles across his nose and cheekbones. His hair was disorderly, as it always was: a piece fell across his brows, and his warm gold eyes moved across her face as if she were a painting, studying each individual line and stroke and shape that made up the whole picture. 

“James.”

A sharp pain lanced through her ribcage, stealing her breath, as she fell limp against him. It was only then that she noticed a great shadow had stretched across the ballroom stealing away the warmth and the light.

James head bent until his forehead pressed against her own. “When you become grass and spring, I’ll become a flower and sit next to you.”

The shadow inched closer to them until they were a pinpoint in the center of the room. Her hands clung to the fabric of his shirt until her knuckles became white as she drew herself up so their noses were aligned. They recited the last line together. “When you become a flower and sit next to me, I’ll become a nightingale and sing for you.”

A feeling like the floor dropping out from her feet pulled Cordelia away as she was ripped from James once more. 

***

It was dark, that much Cordelia could tell, and it was cold. So cold the tips of her fingers ached. She was flat on her stomach, laying on something hard- stone possibly— that chilled her to her core. A dull, but intensifying pain, ached on the right side of her ribcage with every breath that she took. It was also the only part of her that felt enflamed with heat. Her lungs felt too full, the air scratched against the back of her throat as though she’d inhaled a mouth full of soot. She tried to cough, but nearly cried out from the pain in her ribcage. 

Moving didn’t seem like a viable option, but neither did lying still. She tried to walk carefully through her memories to figure out where she might be. The last thing she remembered was James. He held her so tight; he was so warm and then everything was so cold again. She had said goodbye to James. Then Alastair— she’d been in a carriage with Alastair. The memory of him lying, bleeding in the street made her cringe. She had to find him—to get her stele and get to him.

Her arms shook as she pushed herself to her feet; her teeth clenched so tightly they might crack from the pressure. The pain was agonizing, spotting her vision with white dots; it was only then that she noticed the ground beneath her hands turned to fine powder and disappeared in a gust of wind.

She had been here before, that much she was sure of. The smell of acidic rot and decaying flesh was difficult to forget. Everything around her was orange and hazy like being surrounded by a blazing fire, but without the heat. 

“Welcome back,” said a clear, deep voice that rang through her like the bass of thunder. 

Cordelia stilled, bent awkwardly on her hands and knees. She looked up in the direction the voice had come from. 

He was dressed much the same as the last time she’d seen him, in an all white tailored suit complete with black buttons that glistened like eyes- perhaps they were eyes. His pale gray hair swept across his face; in much the same way as James’, but she would not allow herself to think about that. 

“Didn’t I stab you?” asked Cordelia. 

Belial moved towards her, the tails of his coat flapping in the desert-like wind. “I faintly remember something about that, yes.”

“If at once one doesn’t succeed, one must try again.” Cordelia reached for Cortana with the arm on her uninjured side, but found that her hand closed around empty air where the hilt should be. 

Belial smiled mockingly.

“Where is Cortana?”

“Where it fell,” said Belial. “You see I don’t often make mistakes, but on the rare occasion that I do, I am sure not to make the same one again.”

Cordelia’s head dropped and she looked at her hands. The knuckles on her right hand were bleeding; the pinky on her left hand was angry, swollen, and bend out of place at the joint. Dried blood encased her arms from her elbows to her wrists. There was pain everywhere, enough to swallow anyone whole, but still she tucked her legs underneath herself and sat up with her hands resting on her thighs, as if she were presenting him with an offering. 

The last time she’d been in the shadow realm, she had been with James. They had held each other, defended one another, and barely managed to escape with their lives. Self-preservation hadn’t been a thought in her mind, as if James and herself were one entity, there was none without the other. Now, alone, self-preservation rang through her blood- Shadowhunter blood- every sense awakened and alert; desperate for a fight or an escape.

“What is it that you want from me?” asked Cordelia, the words shook on her lips.

Belial chucked, it echoed around them. “Nothing from you.”

“James.” Cordelia caught her breath and gripped her ribcage. When she looked down at her hand again it was covered in blood. There was a hole in her dress, just underneath her breast, the whole front of her was covered in a dark stain. “He won’t come. He thinks I’m in Idris with my—Alastair. What have you done with Alastair?”

“Consider him a calling card,” he said. “He was wounded quite gravely, but left with enough breath to relay a message as soon as your friends find him. It’s been extremely difficult to capture the attention of either of my grandchildren especially while I… healed, but after some careful observations, I believe I have exactly what will capture their attention.”

Cordelia’s hands clenched around the fabric of her dress, still damp from the rain. “He won’t come.”

“You don’t think so?” Belial raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’re right, but no matter, he is not the one that I require.”

Cordelia looked up again. Belial’s face hadn’t changed. It remained expressionless with the stoic passivity of a graveyard statue. “Who— who else would you—“ The thought dawned on her like a punch to the stomach. “Lucie.”

“Very good. I was afraid you were only bronze and no brain,” said Belial. He waved a hand in the air, and for a moment, Cordelia caught the faint outline of an automobile speeding down a London street. The two passengers in the front seemed to be squabbling with one another, a much larger figure sat in-between them with his neck bent awkwardly so his head wouldn’t burst through the top of the cab. Three more figures sat side-by-side in the back, one of them was Lucie. The picture focused on her face, gazing out the window, her body present but her mind lost in thought. “My granddaughter. It’s true, I overlooked her at first, believing James to be the true vessel because of his connection with the shadow realm, but that is until it came to my attention that my granddaughter holds the power to summon the dead. While I did prefer a male form, James is merely an adolescent traveler, jumping from realm to realm as if on holiday.”

The burning intensified in Cordelia’s chest. She could feel sweat drip down her spine despite the chill. 

“Lucie?” Cordelia nearly laughed. Sweet, unassuming Lucie— with ink stains on her fingers and her mind constantly in the pages of her stories— with the ability to summon the dead. “You must be mistaken. If Lucie had the ability to summon the dead, I’m sure that I would know about it. I am her— best friend.”

“Didn’t you just abandon her to go home to Idris?” His lips curled. 

Cordelia shook her head. “No, I—“ She caught her breath and nearly bent over from the pain. “No, I wanted to spare her the humiliation of being seen with me after I—“ She raised herself up again. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“No, I’d much prefer it if you didn’t actually,” said Belial, examining his shoes as if they held more interest to him than the entirety of the conversation. 

“If what you’re saying is true,” said Cordelia, a shudder went through her whole body as the pieces started to come together in her mind. Her mouth became impossibly dry. “Then Lucie would—“

“Be able to summon an army of the undead,” said Belial, as if it were a completely normal thing to do like walking. “A truly wonderful thing about dead people is that you can’t kill them… again. They’ll be unstoppable in destroying your realm: killing, pillaging, destroying, so that I can come and claim it as my own.”

Cordelia let out a deep breath. “Just once I would like for a villain to come up with a less egregious plan than world domination. However, considering who you are— thief of realms and all— this is rather right on character.”

Belial spread his arms out to his sides and bowed at the waist.

“Lucie won’t do it,” said Cordelia, oddly calm. It was one thing she was absolutely sure of. 

“Do you not think so?” Belial squatted down in front of her, still feet away as though she were a wild animal that might attack him at any moment. He was smart— she would. “I didn’t think so either. Not willingly, not unless I had something of great importance to her.” His eyes narrowed. “I tried to capture James but he had more wards around him due to my last attempt. I thought my dear daughter, Tessa, but Tessa seems like the explosive type. Unreasonable, like she might throw herself onto a blade before being used. Then there was her father, William, well I’ll just admit I feared I’d be decapitated before Lucie had a chance to join us.” He cleared his throat. “Her other friends, while they hold great importance to her and would have done the trick, there was the little dilemma of you and that blade. It seemed you were the most logical choice.

“You did make it quite difficult for me,” said Belial. “Always following James around like a loyal dog. I had to think of some way to separate the two of you. That’s where the Blackthorn girl came into play.”

“Grace,” said Cordelia. “Are you controlling, Grace?”

“Not directly,” purred Belial, “but I am not without my connections. You see, I promised the Blackthorn’s to raise their beloved Jesse if they served me. After that, they were like clay in my hands.

“When I found out the Blackthorn girl already had James under a binding spell, it all became rather easy.” Belial laughed. “He went to her like a drunk goes to ale.”

Cordelia swayed slightly and fell to her hip, her arm outstretched to catch her. Tears burned her eyes with rage. How could she know nothing of Lucie’s power; nothing of Grace’s spell on James. It seemed perhaps Belial was right about one thing. Perhaps she didn’t know her dear friends at all.

Belial’s eyes danced and flickered over her, taking in her expression, her resolve, her bleeding waist. 

“Don’t die yet Miss Carstairs.” Belial turned his back to her and crossed his arms. His eyes took to the darkened sky as if waiting for something to fall from it. “There is still a need for you.”

[twistedtummies2]

Ele-May-ntary - Number 16

Welcome to Ele-May-ntary! All throughout the month of May, I’m counting down my Top 31 Favorite Portrayals of Sherlock Holmes, from movies, television, radio, and even video games! We’ve reached the halfway point of the countdown! Last time, we talked about the version of Holmes from the Frogwares “Adventures of Sherlock Holmes” game series. Among other noteworthy things, this Holmes was one of several who faced Jack the Ripper…which is also a distinction of today’s topic. Number 16 is…John Neville.

Sherlock Holmes and the infamous case of the Whitechapel Murders actually have some history together. The Holmes stories were being published at the time the Jack the Ripper murders occurred. In fact, “A Study in Scarlet” – the first ever Holmes story – was published roughly a year before the notorious killer drew first blood. It’s also known that Dr. Joseph Bell – whom, some may recall me mentioning in a previous entry, was the inspiration for Holmes as a character – was called on to assist the police in solving the case. He obviously failed, but where the real man may not have succeeded, Holmes has REPEATEDLY triumphed in the world of fiction. Encounters between Sherlock Holmes and Jack the Ripper are actually quite frequent. Not only do several interpretations and referential stories use imagery and ideas that call the Ripper (or Holmes) to mind indirectly, but in terms of outright confrontations between the Master Detective and the world’s most infamous serial killer, the attempts to make this happen are rather varied. There’s been a handful of novels, not to mention the aforementioned Frogwares video game, an audio play, some TV and comic book/manga interpretations…and, of course, two movies. The most famous of the films is “Murder By Decree,” which came out in 1979 and starred Christopher Plummer. As I said before, when I discussed Plummer’s Holmes, I’m actually NOT the biggest fan of that interpretation. Having said that, bizarrely enough, I VERY much like the much earlier film treatment of the idea – which may or may not be the first time Holmes and the Ripper clashed, now that I think about it; don’t quote me there – from 1965. That film was “A Study in Terror”: a cult classic oneshot Holmes film, which starred John Neville as the Master Detective. While this is not a perfect film – Holmes escapes the Ripper in the climactic battle through the power of Deus Ex Machina, and Robert Morley’s could-have-been-stellar Mycroft has absolutely no reason to be in the picture at all – I find it much more entertaining, and I like how it rides a fine line between the reality and the fantasy/mythology that have come to surround the Ripper killings. The movie doesn’t attempt to be a crazy conspiracy theory fest, nor does it attempt to portray the real-life events totally accurately; it essentially tells a totally original story and uses the Ripper to make that story happen. In my opinion, this is a decent way of handling the material: giving us a plausible but still fantastical solution to the infamous case, as well as a good reason for the truth never being revealed. As for John Neville as Holmes, he really is one of the most underrated takes on the character I’ve ever seen. His Holmes reminds me of what would later be done with Robert Stephens, except perhaps better. He has the same slightly florid attitude and dialect, but carries himself with a whiplike sharpness and sense of command, while also being capable of being humorous, and even quite sensitive. He’s hardly put off by all the gruesome things going on around him, but he has his limits, as well as his own eccentricities. Neville’s Holmes is all his own, and is helped a great deal by his Watson, played by Donald Houston. The two remind me a lot of Ronald Howard and Howard Marion-Crawford from the 1950s TV series…only this time, they have a better budget behind them, and…well…it’s Holmes vs. Jack the Ripper. There’s a reason that idea is done so often: IT’S REALLY FREAKING COOL. The countdown continues tomorrow! Who will be next? Check in and find out!

[abitterlifethroughcinema]

THE St. Jordi BCN Film Festival ’21 FILM REVIEWS, VOL. II: What’s Fine…and not!

by Lucas Avram Cavazos

YOUR #VOSE take on upcoming international cinema premiering in Catalonia & Spain soon!

Hotel Coppelia by Jose Maria Cabral ###-1/2

As I screened Hotel Coppelia at this year’s festival, I was rather taken aback by how little I knew about the history behind the Dominican Republic and the US involvement/engagement/disruption of the island country. It is 1965 as the film commences and the ladies of the bordello and hotel, Coppelia, attend to their clientele with razor sharp precision and beguiling ways that aim to keep a roaring crowd coming back to fill the coffers, run by the icy and fierce bish, Judith (Lumi Lizardo). While the film mostly follows young server/performer Gloria, played with mild perfection by actress Nashla Bogaert, it’s the intermingling of the ladies at the brothel that aids in building an emotional response to the characters rather quickly. And when the US army invades the coastal town and ensconce themselves within the confines of the hotel to “fight the communists,” we see yet another heinous example of why so many despise the guise with which the US army lies with it appearance of helping by taking with force. This, incidentally, is exactly how every modern power on Earth has taken their stance to get to whatever they perceive they are. Hotel Coppelia, and a new student I’m teaching, has made my new history study a waltz around this incredible island, rumoured to be where Columbus actually landed as his furthest Northern reach. Lovely and necessary film…

Where to watch: TBA

Penguin Bloom by Glendyn Ivin ###-1/2

Not knowing what to expect with an Aussie film with the word ‘penguin’ in it, I was mostly moved to screen it because who doesn’t dig Naomi Watts? But what a lovely if heartbreaking tale of truth turned celluloid treasure with this unexpected, wee gem of a film. Oscar-nominated actress Watts plays Sam Bloom, a mum vacationing with her family in Thailand when a terrible accident leaves her paralysed from the waist down. Feeling like a burden to her husband (Andrew Lincoln) and her kids, when one of them rescues a little magpie chick and the parents decide the kiddos can keep it, what ends up happening is a bond between the depressed, defeated mother and the little bird with a broken limb. You can probably imagine what happens but the easy nature of this true tale leaves you feeling grateful, happy with perhaps a few tears of joy rolling down your lovely cheeks.

Where to watch: will be in local cinemas 10/9/21

Wild Mountain Thyme by John Patrick Shanley ##

I really can’t begin to explain how much I couldn’t believe I was watching Emily Blunt cop to an attempt at an Irish accent in this blasé, Nicholas Sparks-style romance. Starring Blunt and Christian Grey-typecast character actor Jamie Dornan, this film tells the story of the selling-off of an Irish family’s farm to a wealthy US-American nephew (read: the asshole and he is Jon Hamm...yum yum) instead of the family’s son (Dornan). What I also found most odd was watching Christopher Walken try and feign being an Irish patriarch. Could we not cull together Colm Meaney or Brendan Gleeson or ANY wonderful Irish actor above 65 to play this role? At one point around the middle juncture of the film, I actually found myself counting cliches of too many modern romance dramedies, and I eventually became perplexed as to how this was greenlit in the first place for production and why Blunt and Dornan would have signed up for this trite shite…absolutely no idea.

Where to watch: in local cinemas 23/07/21

Blithe Spirit by Edward Hall ##

Part of the comedy lineup at this year’s BCN Film Festival, Blithe Spirit is based upon the like-titled 1941 comical play by Noel Coward. Screening the film on a smaller room at Cines Verdi BCN, I really did find it strange that top actors’ actors like Judi Dench and Isla Fisher would sign up for what turned out to be a sad sap of a film. Telling the story of Charles (Dan Stevens) who’s a wealthy writer embroiled in a bad case of writer’s block who takes his wife (Fisher) to see a medium (Dench), whose performance goes madly awry and so Charles decides to commission the older medium to perform a session in his home, but this seems to summon Charles ex-wife (played beyond annoyingly so by Leslie Mann). Jokes that fail, overacting and weak scripting made this particular comedy a dud on arrival.

Where to watch: in local cinemas on 22/10/21

Last Call by Steven Bernstein ##

This film marks a moment when an accomplished cinematographer finally brings a long-desired project to fruition and onto screens. Director Bernstein has been working behind the scenes for over 35 years on innumerable movies, but he actually released an unfinished draft of this film entitled Dominion and also starring Rhys Ifans and John Malkovich back in 2016. With Last Call, a full-length feature film starring the aforementioned actors come together to tell the story of the final hours of Welsh poet Dylan Thomas’ final day. It’s a grim day where he downs eighteen shots, chats up a myriad of people, who may or may not be there, and that is until the seizure that eventually brought about his death. What Bernstein serves up however is a choppy story with certain scenes that throw continuity to the wind, but you can tell the director is a true fan of the poet and desired to create a testament to the man for whose name ‘Bob Dylan’ was transformed from Robert Zimmerman. Alas, no wannabe deep conversations or great actors can save this MEH! piece…sorry!

Where to watch: TBA

[skeptycats]

Vicky Archives #1

INTO THE WILD - “A stranger in a strange land.”

I’ve been meaning to start transcribing these for a while now. If you don’t already know, Vicky Holmes, the former editor of the Warriors series, has been doing short extract readings on Facebook since the start of the UK lockdown back in March! There’s some really cool anecdotes hidden within some of these videos, so I thought I’d begin penning them down for posterity and easy reference.

I won’t be transcribing filler, hedging and false starts but I’m including some amount of preamble just to be comprehensive.

#1 Into the Wild | #2 Forest of Secrets | #3 The Darkest Hour | #4 Code of the Clans | #5 Firestars’ Quest | #6 Twilight | #7 Long Shadows | #8 Leafpool’s Wish

—

Hello! Welcome to my house. I’d very much like to be broadcasting this from my beautiful study, with all my books in the background, but my house is 500 years old and the walls are very thick, so I only have Internet in one room - my sitting room - so this is it! And yes, that is a real tomahawk on the mantlepiece. 

I’m going to start today with Into the Wild, the very first Warriors book. Kate Cary and I worked on this... 18, 19 years ago? Back in 2001. It was published on the 1st of July, 2003. Before many of you will have even been born, I suspect, which makes me feel incredibly old. 

The scene I’m going to read is when Rusty, or Sammy as he was in German, first goes into the forest and encounters a Clan cat. He’s heard about the forest, he’s heard gossip about the Clan cats eating the bones of domestic cats and being completely wild and scary, and he’s very curious and he’s very brave, and these are really important qualities in his character. 

Rusty stood very still and looked around. He could see the white tip of a red bushy tail trailing through a clump of tall ferns up ahead. He smelled a strong, strange scent, definitely a meat-eater, but neither cat nor dog. Distracted, Rusty forgot about the mouse and watched the red tail curiously. He wanted a better look. 

All of Rusty’s senses strained ahead as he prowled forward. Then he detected another noise. It came from behind, but sounded muted and distant. He swiveled his ears backward to hear it better. Pawsteps? he wondered, but he kept his eyes fixed on the strange red fur up ahead, and continued to creep onward. It was only when the faint rustling behind him became a loud and fast-approaching leaf-crackle that Rusty realized he was in danger. 

The creature hit him like an explosion and Rusty was thrown sideways into a clump of nettles. Twisting and yowling, he tried to throw off the attacker that had fastened itself to his back. It was gripping him with incredibly sharp claws. Rusty could feel spiked teeth pricking at his neck. He writhed and squirmed from whisker to tail, but he couldn’t free himself. For a second he felt helpless; then he froze. Thinking fast, he flipped over onto his back. He knew instinctively how dangerous it was to expose his soft belly, but it was his only chance. 

He was lucky—the ploy seemed to work. He heard a “hhuuffff” beneath him as the breath was knocked out of his attacker. Thrashing fiercely, Rusty managed to wriggle free. Without looking back he sprinted toward his home. 

Behind him, a rush of pawsteps told Rusty his attacker was giving chase. Even though the pain from his scratches stung beneath his fur, Rusty decided he would rather turn and fight than let himself be jumped on again. 

He skidded to a stop, spun around, and faced his pursuer. 

It was another kitten, with a thick coat of shaggy gray fur, strong legs, and a broad face. In a heartbeat, Rusty smelled that it was a tom, and sensed the power in the sturdy shoulders underneath the soft coat. Then the kitten crashed into Rusty at full pelt. Taken by surprise by Rusty’s turnabout, it fell back into a dazed heap. 

The impact knocked the breath out of Rusty, and he staggered. He quickly found his footing and arched his back, puffing out his orange fur, ready to spring onto the other kitten. But his attacker simply sat up and began to lick a forepaw, all signs of aggression gone.

Rusty felt strangely disappointed. Every part of him was tense, ready for battle.

“Hi there, kittypet!” meowed the gray tom cheerily. “You put up quite a fight for a tame kitty!”

So this basically sets the theme for the introduction to the Clan, which is “a stranger in a strange land”. The Clans are very strange to us, we needed to introduce them to the readers, and the best way to introduce a completely new world is through the eyes of someone who is a stranger to that world themselves. For example, a spaceman landing on a planet, he would describe everything he sees, what he feels, the emotions, his experiences... Or even something like going to a new school. It’s really by far the best way to immerse your narrator into his surroundings and really engage with the narrator, so that we learn at the same time as they do. 

[The broadcast is cut off due to Internet issues, then resumes]

I’m very sorry about that. The Internet went down. This might be a problem, I might have to find somewhere else because I have very weak Internet out here in the sticks. 

Anyway, I was talking about how Rusty is the “stranger in the strange land”. This idea that the best way to translate a brand new experience is by creating a protagonist, a central character, who is new to that experience. 

So if you are homeschooling and would like an idea for creative writing today, my suggestion would be a story of a stranger in a strange land. So that could be a new kid at school, maybe a domestic pet, like a hamster having to live in the wild. Anywhere where your main character is thrown into a very new and strange environment. 

Also, I’d like to suggest you look at the books you’re reading at the moment and see which of those features people immersing in new experiences. Tamburlaine by Christopher Marlowe is a 16th century play which defines “stranger in a strange land”, as does The Jew of Malta. There’s examples throughout history, throughout literature in which we follow the adventures of someone who is new to the things around them.

Looking back at Into the Wild, now, it’s very interesting because of course it was the first book that Kate and I worked on together, and the writing feels very naive to me. We hadn’t quite found our footing. If I worked on the book again, if I was to edit it again, I think I would make it sound very different. I think we hadn’t found our Erin Hunter ‘voice’ at this stage. The writing lacks the integrity, I think, the naturalness of Erin Hunter as the voice developed later on. 

But it’s charming to go back, it’s charming to remember that this was one of the first projects I ever edited or created, and it was very much a “flying under the radar” project. It was just one book about cats for HarperCollins, and I was a very inexperienced editor. It was just an opportunity, really, to give me a bit of practice. Nobody, least of all me, dreamt of where it’d end up, and that I would spend most of my career writing about cats.

[kismetharborapps]

ooc information

name: thay

preferred pronouns: she/her

age: twenty-five

timezone: gmt-3

activity level: medium

triggers: n/a

anything else?: nope!

character information

name: Christopher “Kit” Sharpe.

faceclaim: Adam Brody.

gender & pronouns: Cis man.

age: Forty-two.

birthday: May 22nd of 1982.

place of birth: Sheffield, England.

occupation: English Teacher at Kismet Harbor High School.

neighborhood: Cresthill Meadows.

time since arriving in kismet harbor: Since 1991.

filling a wanted connection?: n/a

biography: Christopher Sharpe was born and raised in a home filled with nothing but love. As the only child of Matthew and Rosalind, he was spoiled rotten but in the nicest way possible. Originally from Sheffield in England, the family found their way to Kismet Harbor when he was nine after a job opportunity came up for his mother and they’ve been settled down there since. A lot of his warm, easygoing personality comes from his father, a retired comedian, that taught him having a good sense of humor and looking at life from a positive perspective were very important. Still, despite having always been at least in some level of extroverted, Kit ended up growing awfully shy as a teenager, preferring to keep it to himself — especially since he was constantly teased for his accent. Instead, he’d focus his energy on his academic life, ever the applied student as that was something his mother passed onto him. Kit had already made most of the planning for his life after high school was over with but as he was merely a teenager at the time, he ended up taking a different route as the years went on. Clearly, he still followed through with going to college but instead of studying medicine and following a career in the same field as his mom, he ended up getting a bachelor’s degree in English with a minor in teaching. He’s been working as a high school teacher for nearly a decade and a half of his life now. The rest of his plans such as finding love, getting married and starting a family, came to him in a different order. Not as if he’d ever change a single thing about it as for once, ditching his plans and simply living actually did him some good. He found love in his now husband and the two built up their life, as well as their home, together as a strong union. Two children and a few years later, would the two get married. Kit knows that he might look like he’s in a bad mood all the time but he actually has a really dorky personality and can be quite the goof. He loves to make dad jokes, bad puns and definitely has embarrassed his children because of that. He’s also always been the type of person that puts other people’s needs above his own, sometimes even forgetting that he is also just as important as anyone else. Kind of a people pleaser but not a pushover — definitely knows how to stand his ground when needed. And lastly, he started going by Kit back in high school and nobody has really called him anything else since. His parents will sometimes call him by Chris but I doubt anyone uses his actual name unless they’re mad at him or it’s a serious subject.

other: This is my indie blog with samples of my writing — https://sacriiilegious.tumblr.com/

pets: Dashiell (Dash) and Shiva — dalmatians. 

town activities: lgbtqia+, parchment ponderers, vino spell.

draw of luck: sure!