#eve sterling

[sinlizards]

even more artfight prep while i rush to redo everyones icons <-dying

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

The Librarians S01E06 And the Apple of Discord.

[slowly-decaying-organism]

autistic detectives

sherlock holmes

batman

archer

juno steel

eve polastri

will graham

L

BMO (in BMO Noire)

javert

i will not be accepting criticism

[terapsina]

A comprehensive list of ALL my favorite WLW ships. PART 4 (because I have more than 10 of them)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6.

(canon gets a 🍪, clowned myself into thinking it'd be canon gets a 🤡, didn't actually think it'd be canon but adored them anyway gets a 🍑, happy ending gets a 🌺, they destroyed me ending gets a 😿, bummer ending gets a 💔, cancellations are a plague on this planet get a 🪦).

---

31. Nico and Karolina - Runaways - 🍪🌺

32. Catra and Adora - She-Ra - 🍪🌺

33. Eve and Villanelle - Killing Eve - 🍪😿💔

34. Camina and Naomi - The Expanse - 🤡💔

35. Maze and Eve - Lucifer - 🍪🌺

36. Joan and Jamie - Elementary - 🍑

37. Sterling and April - Teenage Bounty Hunters - 🍪💔🪦

38. Harley and Ivy - Harley Quinn - 🍪🌺

39. Moiraine and Siuan - Wheel of Time - 🍪 😿...currently.

40. Spencer and Ashley - South of Nowhere - 🍪🌺

[maxispremades]

Вернувшись с Комореби, Стерлинг-Рико взяли себе пару часиков на передохнуть, после чего отправились встречать Новый год в любимом баре «Полустанок».

Еще совсем недавно Бесс и Джулс, сидя на чемоданах, отчаянно тосковали по дому. Но стоило им вернуться в Эвергрин, как на обоих волной нахлынули ностальгические воспоминания о путешествии.

Новая семейная динамика очень подходит этой парочке!

New Years Kiss💋

[reelvibes91]

Invincible "A Lesson for Your Next Life" Review

Fans of Invincible have been waiting for over 2 years to watch season two. That is a long wait given how season one ended. Everything we knew about Mark Grayson's world was about to change after the events of the first season finale. The big question now becomes is season two worth the two year wait?

Yes. It absolutely was. The story picks up where you would expect. Mark and Debbie have been forced to move forward and pick up the pieces of their lives. Mark still hiding his secret identity from most of the world while trying to be a normal teenager. You could really feel the angst growing within him. The struggle to distance himself from the image of his father while trying to still figure out who he wants to be.

We also got a fairly large indicator as to what the first half of this season is going to focus on in terms of story. It seems like Angstrom Levy is going to be the central villain. He has the power to open portals to different dimensions, many of which have Omni-Man and Invincible teaming up to murder thousands of people. There is much more to that story, but a lot of it involves spoiler, and it is truly something that audiences should see for themselves.

What is so great about this series is that while it focuses on superheroes, it truly is about the emotions the heroes are feeling. We get glimpses of Mark, Eve, Rudy, Immortal, and how many of them have processed this and what long term affects everything will have. If things remain true to the comics, at least to some degree, we are in for some wild treats this season in terms of storytelling. Adding a talent like Sterling K. Brown to the mix to voice a complex character like Angstrom was a phenomenal choice. He already stole the show in this episode and this was just the tip of the Iceberg.

It is very awesome to say Invincible is finally back with new episodes. Both the show and the comics they are based are amazing and have me hooked on the characters and all their adventures. I am so excited that this series is back, and weekly discussions can resume. Without a doubt, Invincible is hands down the best comic book series currently airing across any platform and has all the tools to remain that way for years to come.

[thekingofchungus]

[gatutor]

Sterling Hayden-Eve Miller "Kansass Pacific" 1953, de Ray Nazarro.

[squeamishnerd]

The Brights

Chapter 22: Winter Holidays, Part 1

← Previous part Next part →

Link to master post with all chapters

⠀

Beren: I can't believe the term is already over. Have you three also felt like time is running… differently?

⠀

Liberty: Actually, I have, and my hypothesis is that The Watcher made some changes with how time passes!

⠀

Beren: Haha, I love that hypothesis, it would explain so much!

⠀

Ned: Wanna join us for Winterfest this year too, Beren? We're gonna celebrate with some of our neighbours, so we're a bigger group than last year.

⠀

Beren: I don't feel like Winterfest was really my thing, sorry.

⠀

Liberty: What about New Year's Eve?

⠀

Beren: No, sorry. Too many people and too much drinking. But thanks for asking. I hope you don't think I'm boring.

⠀

Liberty: Don't worry, we get it.

⠀

Ned: What about you, Bess, do you want to join?

⠀

Bess: No, I'm going home to my family over Winterfest and New Year's Eve. But thanks for the invitation.

⠀

Liberty: Does Melon have any plans for Winterfest or New Year's Eve?

⠀

Beren: Not that I know of, I'll make sure to ask them.

⠀

Ahriman: I thought you said that people don't come unannounced in this universe.

Rory: Yeah, sorry about that, but I don't have any way to contact you. And sorry about this but…

⠀

Ahriman: Peteran Priest! You could've at least warned me!

⠀

Rory: Look, Winterfest is just around the corner. Wanna celebrate together with my family?

⠀

Ahriman: I don't celebrate Winterfest, and I don't want to celebrate it.

⠀

Rory: So you want to sit here all alone on Winterfest?

Ahriman: Yeah, that's the idea.

⠀

Rory: Can I at least come over and say hi on Winterfest?

Ahriman: Why?

Rory: I just want to wish you a happy Winterfest on the right day.

⠀

Ahriman: Okay, but don't bring anyone else and don't stay for long.

⠀

Beren: Any plans for Winterfest or New Year's Eve?

Melon: No, you?

⠀

Beren: No. First time I celebrated was last year, and I wasn't really a fan of either of those, I just felt awkward and out of place.

⠀

Melon: How about we do something together then?

⠀

Beren: You don't have to be with me, I'm fine being alone.

⠀

Melon: I am serious. I have never celebrated Winterfest or New Year's Eve, and if you do not like the way others celebrate them, why not figure out our own way to do it?

⠀

Beren: Oh, um, I guess that makes sense.

⠀

Melon: How about we go to a cosy café on Winterfest and stay at home and play games on New Year's Eve?

Beren: That sounds like something I'd enjoy.

⠀

Beren: Are you okay with cafés though?

⠀

Melon: As long as they're okay with me.

⠀

← Previous part Next part →

Link to master post with all chapters

[sinlizards]

speaking of artfight nows the time of year i actually think about my ocs again so here's an aitsf au of my girlie ive been developing + an old sketch of her

[allfifaworldcup]

Raheem Sterling rejoins England training on eve of World Cup 2022 quarter-final with France-FIFA WORLD CUP

Raheem Sterling rejoins England training on eve of World Cup 2022 quarter-final with France-FIFA WORLD CUP

Gareth Southgate is set to be able to select from a full complement of players, aside from Ben White who left the camp due to personal reasons, for Saturday’s match. Sterling, who only flew back to Qatar last night from a family visit after his home in London was burgled, underwent a lighter session than his teammates, leaving his participation in doubt despite training. Southgate has stated that…

[ily-sunghoon]

The Omen of Sterling | ENHYPEN

Pairing : vampire!enhypen x fem!oc

Genre : vampire, kingdom, reverse harem <3, fluff, angst, smut on some chapters

Summary : The name Sterling hits like thunder for the royal bloodlines. Sterling is the most dangerous vampire family throughout the ages. After they left Krashoviel due to their sweet human daughter, twenty-one years later the same daughter came back for help... or the omen that Cairneyes warned the others about.

WARNINGS : mdni, heavy content, deep world building (i went kinda crazy), blood, murder, manipulation, gaslighting, toxic behavior, curses, religious theme mentioned sometimes, obsessive, (more to add later). DO NOT PROCEED if uncomfortable

Disclaimer : THIS IS PURE FICTION, ALL THE BEHAVIORS OF MY CHARACTERS ARE NOT RELATED TO ENHYPEN REAL MEMBERS AT ALL!

Note : hi, guys. i finally contribute to the enhablr community by publishing this old draft that i wrote years ago. it was inspired by one of my loooong dream that i had on christmas eve night back then in 2020. i decided to stick on the original names that i have for them. all the fem characters doesn't have any face claims, i leave them to your imaginations. some random male idols might appear in the future as relatives/enemy/friends. without further do, meet the characters and i hope you guys enjoy!

CHAPTERS — PROLOGUE CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV

Introduction to our vampires:

Jestel Sinflame

/jé-ssel/ 299 years old — The rightful crown prince of Krashoviel. Choosing peace over war right now (living under the same roof as his brother-like best friends rather than in the sucking dry and toxic castle). A little bit classist like his family, Sinflame, except towards Ricardo, who he saw the potential of that kid himself. His parents died during the Red War and now he’s trying his hardest to contact his brother, Holstein, who also got lost in the war.

Sarco Phelanflame

/sár-ko/ 288 years old — Phelanflame has always been the first row at wars. They’re the leader of the soldiers. Very strong since birth with a little sadistic tendency. Their personality is cold, much colder than the other vampires around Krashoviel. If not cold, they’re always a little bit of an oddball. All the elders in his family were deceased during the last war. Now, Phelanflame only has three members, including Sarco and his two other cousins.

Ricardo Nikolai

/ree-kár-do/ 20 years old — Came from an orphanage, Ricardo is a third-class vampire in Krashoviel. He got lucky because Jestel and Sarco saw his potential while visiting his orphanage, they took him home and gave him all the facilities he needed. Ricardo likes to play fight with almost everybody, but his favorite activity to do is disturbing Jusarlie’s peace.

Jasper

/jæs-per/ approximately 23 years old — A new vamp who was found in the woods during their monthly patrolling. No one knows about his background, he lost his memory, so they named him Jasper.

Saine Cairneye

/sāin/ 201 years old — Grandson of the current Queen on the throne. His mother died during the war. The Cairneye bloodline is in charge of magick, witchcraft, astrology, omen, and so on. Their current job is reading people intentions and possible-futures with their crazy personality tests. They are blessed with good physical appearance, and all of them look like elves. They have a silly little hobby, which is accidentally having a vision that scares the royal family a.k.a Sinflame!

Jusarlie Grieffang

/jou-sār-lee/ 297 years old — Grieffang, the fang of Krashoviel. They are the greatest strategists and professors, Grieffang is one of the keys of Krashoviel’s endless winning of wars. They’re still relatives with Sinflame. Jusarlie is Jestel’s distant nephew, though their age gap is not far. Rival kingdoms tried to kidnap and use Grieffangs against Krashoviel during their wars, but it was no use, Grieffangs are loyal and far smarter than them. Plenty of them are still alive after the wars along with Sinflames.

Hiael Von Ruden

/heeæl/ 314 years old — His original nation is Slevado, Hiael was a crown prince. He turned his back after the Red War, and it creates a huge controversy. He is now working under Jestel’s command and is currently busy training Jasper. He’s reserved, calm, to the point where it becomes scary rather than comforting for his surroundings. No one knows what is on his mind, but for Jestel, as long as he has made a blood pact then he’s good.

© ily-sunghoon, 2024 DO NOT COPY, STEAL, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORM DO NOT TRANSLATE WITHOUT PERMISSION

[pupsmailbox]

ROBOT ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　aerobot.　agatha.　ai.　alan.　alethea.　alexia.　algernon.　alistair.　alpha.　amaryllis.　ambrose.　androbot.　androic.　andromeda.　angelica.　antenna.　arabella.　araminta.　arcade.　auto.　automaton.　axel.　axis.　badnik.　bionel.　bolt.　byte.　care.　celline.　cello.　chip.　chipique.　clank.　cloniste.　clonoid.　cobot.　codelle.　cole.　curiosity.　cy.　cyber.　cybette.　cybion.　cypher.　data.　dell.　della.　delpha.　delta.　digi.　dot.　droid.　droidess.　droidis.　dronette.　echo.　elektra.　euna.　eva.　eve.　fritz.　giga.　gizmo.　glitch.　grey.　gynoid.　helix.　holo.　holodir.　hydra.　ida.　jet.　kaput.　kinect.　krudzu.　linion.　mac.　mace.　machibella.　machina.　mal.　malware.　mation.　mech.　mecha.　mechael.　mechan．ace.　metal.　metalia.　metalish.　micro.　motherboard.　motor.　nano.　neo.　nucleus.　nyquist.　orbit.　parallel.　pip.　pixel.　prime.　primus.　proto.　quantum.　radar.　radius.　ram.　ray.　reflect.　reflectette.　robo.　robonaut.　rusty.　satellite.　scrappy.　selsyn.　sentiex.　servo.　shard.　siri.　solar.　sonar.　spark.　sparkie.　sparky.　sputnik.　steele.　sterling.　stochastic.　synchro.　synie.　synthett.　talus.　terra.　tin.　tink.　tobor.　ultramarine.　ultron.　unimate.　unit.　virus.　waldo.　zip.

PRONOUNS ⌇　00/00.　01/01.　0101/0101.　11/11.　1010/1010.　10110/101.　ai/ai.　algo/algorithm.　android/android.　app/app.　auto/auto.　auto/automated.　auto/automaton.　axis/axi.　beep/boop.　bio/bionic.　bio/bioplastic.　blast/blast.　bo/bot.　bolt/bolt.　bot/bot.　buffer/buffer.　byte/byte.　cell/cell.　chaos/chaos.　chi/chip.　click/click.　clo/clone.　code/code.　coil/recoil.　command/command.　compute/computer.　core/core.　cyb/cyborg.　cyber/cyber.　data/data.　dev/device.　device/device.　dig/digital.　digi/digital.　droi/droid.　droid/droid.　e/exe.　electric/electric.　entry/entries.　exo/exoskeleton.　gear/gear.　gli/glitch.　glitch/glitch.　hack/hack.　ho/holo.　holo/holo.　hologram/hologram.　in/install.　intra/intranet.　link/link.　machi/machine.　mal/malfunction.　mal/malware.　mech/mech.　mecha/mechanical.　mechanic/mechanic.　metal/metal.　metro/metro.　motor/motor.　neo/neo.　neon/neon.　nuclear/nuclear.　propeller/propeller.　radar/radar.　retro/retro.　robo/robo.　robo/robot.　robot/robot.　rubber/rubber.　satellite/satellite.　sca/scan.　shard/shard.　shine/shiny.　signal/signal.　solar/solar.　steel/steel.　stem/stem.　swi/switch.　syn/synth.　syn/synthetic.　tech/tech.　techno/techno.　test/test.　text/text.　turing/turing.　vi/viru.　web/site.　web/web.　whirr/whirr.　wi/wifi.　wire/wire.　wired/wired.　⚙️/⚙️.　🔧/🔧.　🔩/🔩.　🛠//🛠.　🤖/🤖.

[dracolichen]

I've spent most of artfight working on this 100 character BG3 mass attack!

I'll zoom in, break it down, and list everyone below the cut!

In the foreground we have half-illithid buddies Favour from @rennybu and Ohta from @sori4partyrock greeting each other, with Saelihn Oriandyr on the left from aaazulisms and Kera from neutropara on the right. On the bench against the right edge is @thatglassofwater's Hallow talking to @swordmaid's Shri'iia. Behind her head is glampiirez's Axl.

Around the fireplace (that is behind the beam on the left edge) we have Imill from @cvnnbl leaning on the beam and facing @smuffeycat's Xaphan. Not quite to the circle but walking towards it is Amarlene, who belongs to dark.rabs. On the stool is @rosaart's Cobwynn Varmillier, next to Glimmer, from aspensarts. Dhenvod Suruc from @tboy-vampire talking with Chiaki Kobayashi from mimiqt. Spore-to-spore communication is happening between @ritelli-main's Rue and Faoryn Oru from _spiderwiz_. Last around the circle is the couple, Absalom and Alius, from gravesyard and birdlion respectively.

Let's start zooming in.

On the left end we have Misryn Goldsinger from @gatchayam, Soleil from riloops, and Vivern from ObsceneLemon. Walking by in front is jynxiejinx's Wynnie. Heisenberg-Chan's Dianthus is talking to @almightyjanitor's Aetias Larkspur and CormorantColors's Caurus. Siobhan from @wopwops is facing Eve from @lilyveins.

Next table!

From left to right we have; Astral_Queer's Tif Starlight, @asterroses's Hellefer, @riteofthorns's Alistair Fee, @noumios's Yatim Ravenheart, @dellabeat's Azar, @husvetten's Drashok, and supurrnovae's Rynri Ashtale.

Let's continue moving to the right and look at the entry area.

In the left foreground we have Quina from Drawbabycrybaby and @sound-nin's Nowhere. Behind them is @not-so-dreary-november's Kiya by the window and @digitalduckie's couple Royce Martin and Rusel. In the doorway is RDR's Aura. Continuing along that wall we have Skully_'s Eduin with Elzebubz's Amenadiel. In the upper right corner is Pauli_Tau_'s Pine sitting with @diroxide's Forza. In front of them is nermadethis's illithid Zephyr, with Antipione Misrali from AtlasHyperion sitting on the railing around the corner. Behind her on the bench is Quillarya and her familiar, Ink, from @loopyhoopywrites. At the little round table is Ruby Stoneheart from @fishyjpg having a scholarly discussion with Sterling from Echo_Dutchie.

Let's get the round table in the middle next.

Leaning on the railing behind the table is Auric with his crow Handsome from DeservedlyFluffy. @labotor's Thora Stormgrave distracts the table to get them facing her while her pal Griz M Rhazgut looks for a pick pocketing opportunity from below the railing. The dragonborn is @barrel-of-fantrolls's Jasper, the half orc is @eggsaladed's Cyriak, the drow Zelya and the tiefling Cobalt are both from @cobaltspace. In front of them at the bottom is @new-austin's Funkledunk already going for a refill on the pitcher. Leaving the bar area with a full pitcher is @shoestrum's Zylas, with SpoinkleyDoingle's Braham next to him. Coming up the stairs is Remora d'Amaronis from @labotor as well.

We'll zoom in again for the folks behind them.

At the window in the upper left is Makepeace from @starofthelabyrinth. Heading into the lower bar area is @skyberia's Néphos Huan, and applauding from behind the railing is Emerald Berylis from AceTrainerWes. The furthest back table has two characters each from vaporwaved8666 and @mollycoddlings, the siblings in the middle Tango and Aurora, with Killian and Burke on the ends.In front of them is our band, with Dagny from MDoebling standing on a barrel, surrounded by @azvhaalk's Sólstafir, @princefleabitten's Faeryl, and @dellabeat's Apostrophe on the hurdy-gurdy. In front of the band is Fish from @p0rcelain-b0yy. Panic from katiesimrell is coming down the back stairs, with @phantasmaghosti's Ahlysaaria leaning on the beam at the top and @milkfreaker's Apollon peering over the railing. Jhansra from @void-star and Jibril from Mothley_Cruee are conversing at the other background table.

Sliding over to the bar next!

On the bottom left @milkfreaker's Midra and TheKrakenSovereign's Nyhmmendra are facing the band. Behind them is @hoivess's dragonborn trio, Lucille Abdiel, Des Delos, and Saoirse Hymsong. In the back is @staggbones Pelaios Dretche with @shheep's Acorn, facing the card table. On the right side of the table is @corpsetype's Ciaran and snobsi's Yvon. Sitting at the car in front of them is @sysunknown's Riza D'aerthe, @noumios's Thyris "Euphoria" Dharvir, and @voltaical-art's Bishop. (Featuring the back of my own Vigor's head to fill in as bartender.)

Looking up real quick we have our acrobats!

Estrella the Radiant from @getetteroo and Smiles from @ahauntedcafe!

Last section!!

In the bottom left @hildamistwater's Yevgeniy Kuznetsov is passing a drink up to Ashara from canzadrine. Cansu from semageon is at the keg behind them. Ezra Deschain from @unkledeath is walking towards the back where bottles are being retrieved from, as iluvhisoka's Kaz departs with one on the left and @mollfie's Zinadove approaches with one. Parashy's Pebble sits on the step and looks on as argonlights's Loren celebrates and @lhtiriekko chills a bottle in the back.

Unless I mismarked my spreadsheet, that should be everyone!! Happy Artfight everyone, I hope you enjoyed our post-game party here in the Elfsong, even if you got where's waldo'd!

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Some Fluff, Talk of Death/Afterlife, Suggested Depression, Suggested Self-Harm, Suggested Breakdown, Suggested Anxiety, Light Smut

Word Count: 3.7K

“I recognized you instantly. All of our lives flashed through my mind in a split second. I felt a pull so strongly towards you that I almost couldn't stop it.” ― J. Sterling

It was a hot and humid day. The type of days Miguel hates the most in September because the heat made him uncomfortable and the humidity made his hair frizzy and lose its shape. It was even worse while sitting in a stuffy classroom with ACs that never worked. The rooms were always filled with the strong smell of teenage bodies and dust from janitorial neglection over the summer months. In addition, the beginning weeks of school were a bore with nothing to actually do but sit there and listen to underpaid teachers repeat the same school rules they hear in the beginning of every school semester. 

He was sure he was about to fall asleep at that moment. The heat made him drowsy and the monotone voice of his teacher morphed into white noise. It was nearing the end of the day anyways, and too early into the school year for any teachers to give enough of a shit to write anyone up. He couldn’t take another second of school expectations and the disgusting mix of AXE body spray and floral perfume. But, now when he thinks back on that boring class, he can’t take it on himself to fully hate it. Because, in the same second that he looked toward the clock above the door to check the time, his life changed forever. 

It was instant. Maybe not instant instant, but it was just quick enough to call it instant. She had come in late. Very late with a chest that heaved and tried to keep her rapidly beating heart in her body. Sweat made the front pieces of her hair stick to her face, flushed from the way she had run down the hall to make it to class. Of course, in that moment Miguel found her less than ideal, but he knows now that even in that stuffy school uniform the academy mandated every student to wear, she was the most beautiful goddamn thing that walked the entire earth. And when she spoke to give her name for attendance, a voice and name that will haunt Miguel until he takes his last breath, he knew their lives would be forever intertwined. 

That thought was concrete the second you had walked down the same row of desks as him, stopping at the desk directly in front of him. The smell of sweetness and a bit of sweat, a smell that only comes to him in the early mornings when he isn’t really awake or asleep, instantly overpowered any other smell in the room. If he skips ahead, he can remember nearly every instance in which he leaned his stomach against the hard edge of the desk to get a stronger smell, everytime he held up a piece of your hair to his face, everytime he snuck out of your bedroom window smelling like you after spending the night making love. But, Miguel is a man who follows a strict timeline, who revels in the chronological order of things. 

Instead, he focuses on the first time he had the chance to talk to you. Despite you being only a desk away, it took a few months to hold an actual conversation that was more than, “Do you have an extra pencil?” or “Did you write down the last bullet of that slide?” Despite the lack of communication, the younger Miguel had developed a slight crush on you. He had seen you in the halls between classes and he focused more on you than on the board in class. In all honesty, the delay in conversation was purely your fault. You were an energetic girl, not popular but well known. Someone was always talking to you at your desk in the beginning and end of class. Always laughing with you about something stupid that happened early that day, always asking for help for an upcoming test or assignment, always taking up your time. He could never be mad about it, though. Even if it meant he had lost an extra few months with you. It was okay because even if those months weren’t with you, they were of you. Months filled with the sound of your voice, the addicting sound of your laugh, the glimpses of your smile and shiny eyes. Moments that fill his head when he sleeps at night and when he gets lost in a daydream. 

You had turned to him, asking him about some party one of his friends at the time was planning because he had turned 18. They’re simple, small questions: “What was the address again?”, “Anyone is invited, right?”, “What’s the dress code? Is there a theme?”, “Are you going?”. He had to bite his tongue to stop from scaring you off with manic answers. Yes, anyone is invited but don’t bring some random guy with you. Bring me with you instead. The dress code doesn’t matter because you’ll look stunning in anything you wear. I only want to go if you go. 

“You… only want to go if I go?” You had asked. Your voice was decorated with a confused giggle and your ears had glowed pink. 

Miguel blinked up at you with his own confusion. He had yet to realize his last words had bubbled out of his chest until you were giggling and eyeing him shyly. He was quick to cover his face as it grew warm, and he let out a groan while cursing himself. You had laughed harder then, eyes shining with a build-up of tears as you clutched your stomach. Miguel had spread his fingers slightly so he could peak through them. You were a sight to behold with that enchanting laughter and infatuating smile. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling against his palms. When you had finally reduced your amusement to a toothy smile, you had gently pried Miguel’s hands off his face just enough to see him. 

He was sure he looked stupid, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide over the fact you were touching him. Your hands were warm and small against his and he swore his heart was trying to rip open his chest so it could run to you. He almost went dizzy when your thumb stroked his hands in a comforting manner in hopes of easing his embarrassment. He had never wanted to kiss someone so badly before. Would you have minded? God he really hoped you wouldn’t.

“Miguel?” You sang, a teasing smile on your face as you looked at him, “Are you there?”

Say it again. Say my name again, please. You’re the only person ever allowed to say it ever again. God, he was losing his mind. He still is losing it over you. Every goddamn day. Miguel doesn’t think he’ll ever get it back. You took it from him. His mind, his body, his soul. You took everything from him. It’s yours. It’s yours, it’s yours, it’s yours.

Please, give it back to me.

When he had finally responded to you, your smile had shone brighter and you asked him a question that still leaves his mind dumbstruck when he thinks back on it: What time do you want to pick me up? He remembers the way his breath flew out of his lungs, how his heart had paused and then started running again. Remembers the way your throat bobbed slightly, probably because you had regretted asking the question or maybe, he hopes this is why because he never thought to ask you, maybe because you were nervous too. Just maybe you had wanted to talk to him before this life altering moment. Maybe, somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you were tied to this fool of a boy too. 

He had stuttered out a pathetic ‘what?’ and you had rolled your eyes playfully in response. You ditched repeating the question and had instead given him a time and your address before getting up as the bell rang. While you walked out the door with a small wave and big smile, Miguel sat there in an astonished daze blinking at the board. Time seemed to stop as everyone else around him started walking past him to their next classes. It wasn’t until his friend walked past, jolting him with a slap on the back and a whispered, ‘good work, dude’ before walking out the door that he came back to his senses. It was only then that the conversation finally registered in Miguel’s dazzled brain. He leaned forward and hid his face in his hands again as he closed his eyes and his mouth formed a large smile. 

He had a date. He had a date with you.

His shoulders shook with a silent, delirious laugh.

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Miguel knew he was in love. Or, he knew he was going to be in love. It’s complicated to describe, that nagging feeling that wasn’t exactly scary but wasn’t completely comforting either. It’s even weirder feeling it. Having your mind constantly crying out go home, go home, go home but your body pulls you away from every building and straight towards another body like you’re tethered together. Like he’s tethered to you. Sometimes, when Miguel closes his eyes and really concentrates, he can still feel that sharp tug at the center of his chest that tries to bring him somewhere that he tries to get further and further away from. 

He can’t lie and say it wasn’t the big things that made him think, know, he was in love. Because it was. But it was also the small things. Like when you found out what his favorite color was, yellow despite popular belief, and how you had come into school the next week with your nails done in the exact shade you had made him show you on his phone. Or that time he had seen your phone light up in class and your display had revealed that you were listening to the same song he was mumbling under his breath the day before on repeat. It was the collection of those small details that made his heart beat a bit faster and for his smile to tick up behind his hand.

And it was that first kiss. That damned first kiss that Miguel can still feel ghosting against his lips. That he feels on his bad days like some sort of silent encouragement that he will get through it. Swears those phantom lips are what pulls him out of his night terrors as if to protect him as he pants and cries in those late hours. The same kiss that he wishes he could feel forever and ever and simultaneously burn from memory. Sometimes, he thinks about pulling some poor, unsuspecting stranger off the street and kissing them to see if it would feel the same. When he thinks like that, he instantly goes to the bathroom and dry heaves until his throat hurts. Of course it would never feel the same, what a silly idea. What a betrayal and discourtesy towards you to even entertain the idea. 

The kiss had happened weeks after the party. In between those two moments had been brushed hands, glances in the hallways, and not so subtle flirting whispered during lessons. Each moment had Miguel’s face flushing and heart racing. It left him with a craving for you. So, when you had invited him to study with you in the library, he had eagerly nodded despite knowing he would ace the test without looking over any of his notes. He would be too busy looking at you either way to focus on his chicken scratch. 

You hadn’t gotten much studying done that day either. Instead, Miguel had distracted you with whispered words in your ears that caused you to quietly giggle and smile up at him. He can remember every detail. From the way your cheeks grew to match the pink of your lips, how you had fiddled with the mechanical pencil in your hand, how your eyes had twinkled as you leaned towards him. He remembers how you had grabbed his hand, a soft and gentle touch, asking him to come with you to find a book you needed. Remembers how you had pulled him towards the back shelves filled with encyclopedias with bug-bitten pages. Can still remember the slight dizzy feeling he had when you pulled him around one of the old bookshelves and pressed him into it. Can still feel the hands pressed against his chest to hold him in place as you peaked around the corner in case anyone was coming over. He remembers the notes he chuckled as he asked you what you were doing. Can see the smile you gave him before you pulled him down for the only kiss that will ever matter in his entire life. 

Your lips were soft and tasted like the cherry lip gloss you wore. He had furrowed his brows as his hands came to squeeze your waist while he moved his mouth over yours. He memorized the trail your hands took as they traveled up his chest and tangled in his hair. He can replicate the way his vocal cords shifted as he let out that satisfied groan when you allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth. If he were to look down at his hand right now, he could swear the creases of his palms still have your sticky gloss stuck in them from when he had turned you around to press you against the shelves, but his desperation caused books to fall and his hand went to cover your mouth as you pulled away and started laughing. He had smiled down at you and buried his head in the crook of your neck to muffle his own laughter. He never regretted getting detention for the next few days when the librarian had found the both of you. It just gave him more chances to kiss you when the detention instructor fell asleep. 

It was during one of those detention kisses that he had whispered against your lips to be his girlfriend. You had answered with another kiss and a delighted yes.

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It had been a month or two after the one year anniversary that he finally made love to you. It was sometime in the later months of senior year. Another hot and humid day. But instead of being in a classroom, he had been in your room. Miguel remembers that your sheets had been white with a small flower print, throw pillows and blankets making up for the lack of color. They were soft under the material of his jeans as he held you while you cried. 

On that day, your usually clean room was in shatters. Things ripped from your walls, notebooks and papers shoved off your desk, clothes taken off hangers and thrown on the floor. The only things that had survived had been pictures of the two of you and your bed. He had gotten a call from your frantic mother, begging him to come calm you down. That he was the only one that can get through the fog in your mind. He had rushed over, your mother opening the door for him so he could run up the stairs to your room. When he had thrown open the door, his chest broke in a way that made it almost impossible to breathe. He rubs his chest whenever he thinks back to it, like the heartbreak is still there.  

You had thrown yourself in a corner, sobbing and rocking yourself back and forth in a way to seek comfort. The mess of your room had surrounded you, barricading you from everything else. When the door knocked into the wall, your face had left your arms and tear-beaded lashes blinked up at him. You had cried harder when you had seen him. He had strived towards you, picking you up easily off the ground and away from the chaos on your floor. He cradled you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his hips as you cried tears into his T-shirt. He had whispered soft, caring words into your ear, an arm wrapped around your waist and a hand in your hair. 

You had cried for another hour, hiccuping watery words about a scary future. A life of uncertainties and insecurities. A life where you ended up alone and scared and desperate to get by. A world where dreams don’t exist and your greatest fears consume you. Days where you don’t know how to get out of bed and shut up the nasty voices in your head. Minutes where you’re tempted to listen to them and then the hours that follow where you hate yourself for contemplating it. If Miguel were to go into his closet right now, he can find the same shirt he wore. A single shoulder lingering with black splotches of mascara that never fully washed away. Each splotch represents a worry you had trusted him with. 

He had pressed you closer to him, whispering ‘it’s not your fault’, over and over and over again until his throat ached and your cries had died down to soft trembling. Another hour was spent in silence as he had just held you. His hands playing mindlessly with your hair and your breath tickling his neck. The sun had begun to set and a golden glow had lit up your bed in a yellow color.

“It’s your favorite shade,” You had whispered in a broken voice. It was scratchy and rough. Miguel thought it sounded just as lovely as it always has. It reminds him of a pipe organ, beautiful but sad. 

He had to turn around to see what you were talking about. He turned his head slightly to see your hand outstretched, fingers playing as the light spilled from them. He can’t remember a time where you looked so peaceful. He had watched your hand, before nodding his head in agreement. “Yes, it is.”

He reached his hand out, taking a hold of yours gently and connecting his fingers with yours like a puzzle. He brought his hands back towards the both of you, bringing it up to his lips and kissing your knuckles. He watched your eyes, red and puffy from crying. He held your hand to his mouth for a while, his thumb stroking the skin. When he had finally dropped your hand, you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his, just staring into his eyes. Your scent instantly filled his nose. It is the same smell that he has stored in his bedside drawer in a glass bottle. He never sprays it in his room, just holds it to his nose with closed eyes and pretends you’re right next to him again.

“I love you.” The words were sweet and poured warmth onto his skin. He closed his eyes and sat there, letting your words echo in his head until he memorized how each letter and syllable sounded when it left your lips. 

Miguel remembers the strength he used to grab your waist as he connected your lips to his. Remembers that the kiss was different from any other kiss the two of you had shared before this. He still can’t describe why it was different, but he can still feel it in his bones. He remembers pushing his body into yours and you pushing back. Even though his eyes were closed in the moment, he can see everything clearly in his mind, as if he were a phantom watching it. Can see the exact placement of your hands on his shoulders, can see the way your lips parted and the soft noise you made when he had flipped the two of you over and laid you on your back. 

Those soft, soft noises that split his chest open so his heart can absorb them and keep them safe. He remembers every soft pant and plead you had whispered into the air of your room as he stripped you of your clothes, kissing trails down your body. The giggle you had let out when he almost tripped taking off his pants is still trapped between those plaster walls. The soft feeling of your skin under his was like a cloud, your body warmth the sun. He remembers the halo your hair made as the dying sunlight bathed your face and caused your eyes to shine and for your skin to glow. He remembers the light dimming from your face as he slid slowly into you. He had immediately apologized as you whimpered in temporary pain. 

He had slowly moved inside you, taking his time as you held him close to your body. The soft moans of his name traveled through shivers that rode down his spine, the sounds quiet to not alert your parents. His response was the repeated saying of I love you, over and over again. He repeated it, looking down at your face, into your eyes, so you could see the realness and vulnerability of the words. He made sure you felt it as he grabbed onto your skin and buried his head into your neck as he thrusted. He felt the love you had for him in every scratch down his back and tightening of your walls around him. 

He remembers trying to hold on to his pleasure before it exploded right after yours. He had panted as he looked down at you, your breaths mixing together. He had kissed you softly as he pulled his softening member out of you and you smiled against his lips. He had laid with you for a while before getting up, grabbing his discarded shirt and wiping you down before taking you into his arms again and falling asleep. He held you close to his chest, both of you naked under your blankets as the moonlight glowed against the two of you. 

The next morning, he drove you to the closest drug store. The both of you walked to the counter smelling like each other as he paid for a Plan B pill and snacks. It was a story you and him laughed about on the rooftop of your house the night you both graduated from Pym Academy.

CHAPTER 2- THEN: THE CANON

[fatehbaz]

The [...] British quest for Tahitian breadfruit and the subsequent mutiny on the Bounty have produced a remarkable narrative legacy [...]. William Bligh’s first attempt to transport the Tahitian breadfruit [from the South Pacific] to the Caribbean slave colonies in 1789 resulted in a well-known mutiny orchestrated by his first mate [...]. [T]he British government [...] successfully transplanted the tree to their slave colonies four years later. [...] [There was a] colonial mania for [...] the breadfruit, [...] [marked by] the British determination to transplant over three thousand of these Tahitian food trees to the Caribbean plantations to "feed the slaves." [...]

Tracing the routes of the breadfruit from the Pacific to the Caribbean, [...] [shows] an effort initiated, coordinated, and financially compensated by Caribbean slave owners [...]. [During] decades worth of lobbying from the West Indian planters for this specific starchy fruit [...] planters [wanted] to avert a growing critique of slavery through a "benevolent" and "humanitarian" use of colonial science [...]. The era of the breadfruit’s transplantation was marked by a number of revolutions in agriculture (the sugar revolution), ideology (the humanitarian revolution), and anticolonialism (the [...] Haitian revolutions) [as well as the American and French revolutions]. [...] By the end of Joseph Banks’ tenure [as a botanist and de facto leader] at the Kew Botanical Gardens [royal gardens in London] (1821), he had personally supervised the introduction of over 7,000 new food and economic plants. [...] Banks produced an idyllic image of the breadfruit [...] [when he had personally visited Tahiti while part of Captain Cook's earlier voyage] in 1769 [...].

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[I]n the wake of multiple revolutions [...], [breadfruit] was also seen as a panacea for a Caribbean plantation context in which slave, maroon, and indigenous insurrections and revolts in St Vincent and Jamaica were creating considerable anxiety for British planters. [...]

Interestingly, the two islands that were characterized by ongoing revolt were repeatedly solicited as the primary sites of the royal botanical gardens [...]. In 1772, when St Vincentian planters first started lobbying Joseph Banks for the breadfruit, the British militia was engaged in lengthy battle with the island’s Caribs. [...] By 1776, months after one of the largest slave revolts recorded in Jamaica, the Royal Society [administered by Joseph Banks, its president] offered a bounty of 50 pounds sterling to anyone who would transfer the breadfruit to the West Indies. [...] [A]nd planters wrote fearfully that if they were not able to supply food, the slaves would “cut their throats.” It’s widely documented that of all the plantation Americas, Jamaica experienced the most extensive slave revolts [...]. An extensive militia had to be imported and the ports were closed. [...]

By seeking to maintain the plantation hierarchy by importing one tree for the diet of slaves, Caribbean planters sought to delay the swelling tide of revolution that would transform Saint Domingue [Haiti] in the next few years. Like the Royal Society of Science and Arts of Cap François on the eve the Haitian revolution, colonists mistakenly felt they could solve the “political equation of the revolution […] with rational, scientific inquiry.” [...]

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When the trees arrived in Jamaica in 1793, the local paper reported almost gleefully that “in less than 20 years, the chief article of sustenance for our negroes will be entirely changed.” […] One the one hand, the transplantation of breadfruit represented the planters’ attempt to adopt a “humanitarian” defense against the growing tide of abolitionist and slave revolt. In an age of revolution, [they wanted to appear] to provide bread (and “bread kind”) [...]. This was a point not to be missed by the coordinator of the transplantation, Sir Joseph Banks. In a letter written while the Bounty was being fitted for its initial journey, he summarized how the empire would benefit from new circuits of botanical exchange:

Ceres was deified for introducing wheat among a barbarous people. Surely, then, the natives of the two Great Continents, who, in the prosecution of this excellent work, will mutually receive from each other numerous products of the earth as valuable as wheat, will look up with veneration the monarch […] & the minister who carried into execution, a plan [of such] benefits.

Like giving bread to the poor, Banks articulated this intertropical trade in terms of “exalted benevolence,” an opportunity to facilitate exchange between the peoples of the global south that placed them in subservience to a deified colonial center of global power. […]

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Bligh had no direct participation in the [slave] trade, but his uncle, Duncan Campbell (who helped commission the breadfruit journey), was a Jamaican plantation owner and had employed Bligh on multiple merchant ships in the Caribbean. Campbell was also deeply involved, with Joseph Banks, in transporting British convicts to the colonies of Australia. In fact Banks’ original plan for the breadfruit voyage was to drop off convicts in (the significantly named) Botany Bay, and then proceed to Tahiti for the breadfruit. Campbell owned a series of politically untenable prison hulks on the Thames which he emptied by shipping his human chattel to the Pacific. Banks helped coordinate these early settlements [...] to encourage white Australian domesticization.

The commodification and rationalist dispersal of plants and human convicts, slaves, the impoverished, women, and other unwilling participants in global transplantation is a rarely told narrative root of colonial “Bounty.”

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All text above: Elizabeth DeLoughrey. “Globalizing the Routes of Breadfruit and Other Bounties”. Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History Volume 8, Number 3, Winter 2007. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]