#him as an individual is important always and within him is that burning passion for his God

[dreamingthroughwords]

can’t think about hua cheng without almost melting i feel like xie lian like. genuinely. hua cheng is just So. his passion. his devotion. everything he’s done for xie lian. constantly believing at his best his worst all that came in between. how that passion translates his love through his art, carving statues and painting of his beloved God, getting him through the most nightmarish years of his life all so he can finally be together with his beloved after years of them being kept apart…..how he is so patient. so kind. so gentle with xie lian. and within that part of him is the rage for his beloved too…..that the world put him through so much. that the one who showed hua cheng how to live when he was still hong hong’er and being tossed aside by everyone but xie lian was the one who never ever did….. that he kept believing…coming back….in all his forms….all so he can finally be by xie lian’s side to protect him, love him, shower him with that passionate devotion and love he’s had for so long. hua cheng’s passion that translates into love is such a core part of his character. his passion is also his rage at the world, his revenge for those who wronged his beloved, his devotion and determination to stay on earth until he can finally be by xie lian’s side coming back again and again….it is his love above all that his passion embodies and it’s a beautiful and core part and part of who hua cheng is. he embodies passion and love above all, and it’s so incredibly beautiful.

[kyujism]

rises the blue moon . . yanqing x reader

synopsis: yanqing was a cute little fighter you always took care of once in a blue moon.

a/n: errr havent played hsr in a long time but i pulled him hes such a cutie i had to write abt him bro☹️☹️ no proofread btw this is just a random story

Once in a blue moon, there was a little fighter named Yanqing who crossed paths with you, and you found yourself taking care of him. Yanqing possessed a fiery spirit that burned brightly within him. He was a determined individual who never got hurt easily and took his training with utmost seriousness. On the other hand, you were more calm and structured, providing the guidance and care he needed. Together, you formed an unlikely bond that blended strength with tenderness. Even if you saw him once or twice a month.

Yanqing's confidence sometimes bordered on cockiness, but it was hard not to be charmed by his enthusiasm. His belief in himself was infectious, and it often brought a smile to your face. You admired his unwavering dedication to his craft and the way he approached each challenge with unyielding determination.

As the days passed, you became the one he turned to for advice, support, and a calming presence. You offered him a steady hand, guiding him through the ups and downs of his training journey. Your structured approach helped him refine his techniques and channel his energy more effectively. While Yanqing was the spark, you were the grounding force that kept him on track.

Despite his confident exterior, Yanqing had a softer side that occasionally peeked through. He blushed and got flustered when you praised his progress or showed concern for his well-being. It was in those moments that you saw the vulnerability beneath his tough exterior, and you cherished the opportunity to be there for him.

Your care for Yanqing extended beyond the physical realm. You made sure he had a balanced diet, providing him with nutritious meals and snacks to fuel his training. You encouraged him to rest and recover when necessary, emphasizing the importance of self-care. Through your nurturing presence, you taught him the value of taking care of oneself, both mentally and physically.

The bond between the two of you grew stronger with each passing day. You celebrated his victories together, whether they were small improvements in technique or significant milestones in his training. When he stumbled or faced setbacks, you offered a comforting shoulder and words of encouragement, reminding him that failure was merely a stepping stone to success.

Yanqing's growth as a fighter was undeniable, and it was a joy to witness his progress. His skills became more refined, his movements more fluid, and his confidence soared to new heights. He began to inspire others with his determination and passion, serving as a role model to those who saw his journey unfold.

But amidst the training and the victories, there were also moments of quiet intimacy between you and Yanqing. In those rare instances, when the world faded into the background, you shared heartfelt conversations about dreams, fears, and hopes for the future. These were the moments when Yanqing let his guard down completely, revealing a vulnerable side that only you were privy to.

As time went on, you realized that your connection with Yanqing went beyond the realm of mentorship. It was a bond fueled by mutual respect, care, and admiration. Your role in his life had evolved into something more profound—a source of strength, inspiration, and unwavering support.

Yanqing, in turn, had become an integral part of your own journey. His zest for life and his unyielding spirit reminded you of the importance of embracing challenges and pursuing your dreams with relentless determination. He taught you to find joy in the smallest victories and to never underestimate the power of self-belief.

The bond you shared with Yanqing was a testament to the transformative power of connection and support. Through your guidance and care, he blossomed into a formidable fighter, while you discovered a newfound purpose in nurturing his growth. Together, you formed an unbreakable team, ready to face any obstacle that came your way.

In the end, it was not just Yanqing who grew through your care and support. You, too, were forever changed by the presence of this cute little fighter in your life. And as you continued to walk alongside each other, hand in hand, you knew that your bond would endure, transcending the boundaries of time and distance.

[icedmatchatae]

Glimpse of Us | KTH Chapter I: Finding Happiness

Pairing: Problematic Idol Taehyung x Grad Student Reader

Genre: Idol AU, Ex-Childhood Best Friends into—, Angst (Hello, welcome to my angst central), Fluff (mainly in the flashbacks), Slow Burn, Eventual Smut

Summary: BTS’s V has been living a lavished and successful lifestyle, but underneath all of that, Kim Taehyung is far from the perfect image the media and fans made him out to be. All he wants is to relive the feelings of happiness and purpose in his life, but how can he when he left behind those memories years ago? The same memories, he hopes to see a glimpse of.

Warning: Angst (from the start mwahahaha), mentions of alcohol consumption, violence, stalking, faulty media, descriptions of therapy sessions

Word Count: 7.2k

Chapter I: Finding Happiness || Series Masterlist

“BTS is the highly musically acclaimed boy band from South Korea, sweeping the charts across the globe with their wide diversity genres of music. Their lyrics consisted of personal and social commentary that moves those who listen, especially with their fanbase, ARMY. Each member of BTS have their own individual style to their work, yet still continue to play an important role to the group’s success.”

“BTS’s V shook the world, being recognized for his alluring baritone voice and exquisite “duality” and emotions on stage, as well as being coined “The Idol’s Idol” within the Kpop industry. His facial expressions, his motions, his voice, it shows it all.”

“V ranked first on the charts of being the number one most searched keyword for the past five years in South Korea.”

“V was always the first to attract those who don’t know BTS by his unique visuals, strong aura, and his intimidating gaze.”

“V is also part of Wooga Squad, a highly achieving group of men consisted of actors Park Seojoon, Choi Wooshik, Park Hyungsik, and artist Peakboy (Kwon Sunghwan). Their friendship is widely known on their platforms while supporting one another.”

“V caught the attention of many famous fashion brands, as everything he wears turns into gold, including Celine, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and Prada.”

“V was ranked number one as the world’s most handsome and beautiful man in the world.”

“Among the members, V has the most followers on Instagram as well as the fastest growing account on the platform.”

“V is well-loved by ARMY and is supported of his endeavors. They hope to see a solo album in the near future.”

“BTS’s V gets followed by sasaeng at the park.”

“BTS’s V attacked by an influx crowd at the airport. Videos of him holding onto j-hope.”

“Kim Taehyung was seen hanging out with Park Seojoon and mystery girl?? Potential new lover?”

“Kim Taehyung (V of BTS) caught smoking before award show! Is he becoming an addict?”

“BTS V gets embroiled in attitude controversy for not greeting fans and journalists.”

“V of BTS: dating rumors with Tzuyu of Twice? JYP denies but HYBE ignores.”

“Taehyung was secretly recorded at night on the streets, drinking more than he can handle.”

“Kim Taehyung fighting in a club?? Reports of getting drunk and the idol throwing punches.”

“Are BTS’s V and Lisa from Blackpink dating??”

The cycle repeated itself as the ever-growing success of BTS continues, with Kim Taehyung being one of the members. Success, scandal, success, scandal. At this point, it was practically the same thing. Though with the achievements, popularity, and passionate fanbase, it, unfortunately, came with a price, specifically with Taehyung.

His life turned into something he didn’t expect, whether good or bad, but it could be safe to say it has been leaning towards bad. During his years as an idol, as V, his life was heavily scrutinized by the media and the fans. Through the hate comments online, unwanted paparazzi photos, and delusional headlines on topics that he didn’t even know about, it was never-ending that sadly took a toll on him.

Taehyung faced straight forward, not wanting to make eye contact with the man across from him, leaning slightly to the left. Blankness overcame his expression with the deep-set dark circles and hollowness of his cheeks. His lips peeled and swollen from the many occurrences of biting the skin off. His hair was messily styled into his “fluffy Tae bear” image as what ARMY loved to say, but he couldn’t care less about his appearance.

The ticking sound of the clock echoed within the tiny room as Taehyung hoped time only went faster. Despite the tight space, the environment was relatively comfortable. The warm fluorescent lights hanging above the two, a brown velvet couch occupied by yours truly, and a rust-toned loveseat also occupied by the professional. The walnut surface of the desk stacked with files and books by a wall and extended shelves on the opposite was in his peripheral vision.

Taehyung could sense the attentive stare the man was giving him, which had no effect on the idol. It wasn’t harsh gazing, almost curious and kind, but Taehyung wasn’t really ready to give his all. He was trying his best but didn’t know what to do. The idol almost felt bad for him, having been assigned to the professional for nearly a year with little to no progress. But the man had some steel grit and was determined for Taehyung to speak about something.

A particular question made Taehyung fidget in his seat and bounce his leg. It wasn’t too personal because everyone knew, but it still gave him chills thinking about it.

Recently, at BTS’s Festa Dinner Party, the boys announced a temporary pause on group activities except for their variety show, Run BTS, to focus on their solo projects and other activities they wished to pursue without the constant clash in the group’s schedule. Each member was currently doing their own thing, whether promotions or taking a short break. In Taehyung’s instance, the company and his fellow members thought it was a fantastic idea for Taehyung to continue focusing on himself.

Through the years and over time, Taehyung has been dealing with the pressure of the idol life and fearing that his privacy would be taken away at any minute. The heavy load caused a strain on him, a concoction of emotions, as well as changes in behavior. He got sad, he got angry, and he drank. He rarely remembered anything the morning after. He got nervous, he got stressed, and he smoked, which led to online hysteria. He got into fights with strangers, friends, and his members. Countless articles on him from a fight dated back months ago. Despite rarely interacting, he got caught up in scandals with various female idols that were obviously not true. The recent one was another Blackpink member. It has been his fourth one in the past year.

Somehow it was Taehyung getting the bitter end of the fruit, having to deal with it alone. He never comprehended how his name got caught in the tongues of the people when there were hundreds of thousands of celebrities they could choose from. Though not wanting to wish it on others, new up-and-coming idol groups were entering this industry. Idols who were quite naive don’t even know half the bullshit he and BTS faced.

Of course, there was ARMY support. But they interrupted the news differently, assuming that he’s trying to be a normal human and that he does indeed make mistakes. Others commented on Taehyung’s behavior as highly inappropriate as younger fans looked up to him. All responses are partially correct but also, in a way, incorrect in Taehyung’s eyes.

The boys’ support was incredibly different, and they understood him until a couple of years back. Now there has been a faint tension between Taehyung and some of the members after a disagreement right before the group’s announcement. Nevertheless, they were there for him, especially now.

But it was a little too much for his liking.

He has been in and out of therapy, having one session every month due to the rigorous scheduling of the group. But now, since that was on hold, it gave Taehyung the perfect time to engage with himself as frequently as possible.

Taehyung eventually gave up and told his therapist what had happened the past two weeks. The professional knew who he was and what happened with the group—having gone through a well-detailed contract of privacy—but it was appropriate for Taehyung to mention it on his own because sitting before the therapist wasn’t V of BTS but simply Kim Taehyung.

“How do you feel about all of that?” Dr. Im continued thoroughly, jotting down notes in his notebook.

Taehyung scrunched his nose, thinking what to say, “Bittersweet, I guess? You know we’ve been doing this for so long. It’s kinda like we don’t know how to act or do without the group.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, everything I’ve done for almost a decade has been in the group, for the group, with the group.” Taehyung shrugged, playing with his fingers. “Now we have this time to ourselves…almost lost I guess.”

“Can you elaborate on when you speak about “lost”?”

Being in a mood, Taehyung felt a little talkative this session. That’s what usually happened. One session, he’s a blabbermouth, the next, silent as a ghost. There was a reason why his progress was so inconsistent. “The group strived for a goal together, we worked hard and had success which made us happy, but…I don’t know. Me, I guess? I’m feeling lost where now it’s just me, and my goals, my happiness?”

“What would be your goals?”

“I don’t know. I just have my schedule.” Taehyung muttered, slowly getting disinterested in the topic. He hated that he didn’t know anything in his life. “Maybe write and do my solo album, but nothing is ever good for me. That’s why I’m probably the last member to do that.”

“I see, all that’s understandable. I can’t imagine your line of work, but I can sense that the craft takes time.” Dr. Im reassured his client with a warm smile. “You worked hard to get where you’re at. Hard work comes success and of course, at times, success can lead to happiness. Yet at the same time, there will always be struggles.” Taehyung barely responded, only with a nod of acknowledgment.

Lightly segwaying into another topic, Dr. Im wondered out loud, “You’ve mentioned your happiness. Could you describe a bit more to me?”

“There’s really nothing.” The idol bluntly replied. “I don’t feel happy. Like with the group, yeah I guess so, but just me? No.”

“So with the group, what is your happiness?”

“Maybe like, our bond?” Taehyung stated frankly. “We sacrificed things for the band and we only ever had each other. We had good times, good laughs, cries and fights. We, of course, had our fans who’ve done so much. Together, we were always so strong and understood one another, until recently…”

“What do you mean?” His therapist inquired, but Taehyung stayed silent and stoic. Though the professional attempted his best to let Taehyung open gradually, there was still a concrete wall up. That also led Taehyung into spacing out and ignoring anything Dr. Im said. But that didn’t mean he didn’t understand his non-verbal communications. He knew that Taehyung would eventually talk about it, but as of right now, it was too much for him.

So Dr. Im simply hummed and nodded before saying, “It’s okay to not say anything about that. Whenever you’re ready.”

Taehyung peered at the profession, mentally applauding how well he was with him. If Taehyung was in his shoes, he’d slap himself.

“However, I hope you don’t mind talking more so about your happiness.” When Taehyung didn’t protest and shrugged, it was a good sign to continue. “So the happiness by yourself? How is that?”

“Again, I’m not happy, or I don’t feel it at all. I never thought about it until now actually.” The idol reiterated.

“How long have you felt that way?”

Taehyung blew his cheeks out as his breath came out of his drying lips. “Probably years...maybe even the whole time since debut.”

“That’s a long time to not feel happy. How is happiness, is it important to you?” Dr. Im pointed out.

“I guess, yeah…I mean look at where I am. Fucking emotions always changing and ruining my life.”

“Emotions are never changing, you know.” His therapist explained. “But how you use it can. How were you able to cope?”

“Well, we were more restricted in the beginning since we were rookies and I used to hide it well with all the bullshit I did.” The idol responded thoroughly. “I guess over time, it got worse and I couldn’t take it anymore hence all the scandals. So yeah, I’m not happy. Life is just there. I’m just here.”

“So, when was the last time you felt happy?” His therapist questioned, sparking a new discussion up.

“Uhhh, I’m guessing before debut, the group, fans? If it’s been years.”

“So imagine the last time you felt it, and I want you to describe to me what your happiness is. What are the thoughts that came up, the emotions?” Dr. Im sought it out in hopes that it could unlock a new memory about his past.

“That sounds pretty loaded…” Taehyung tilted his head as he stared at the window.

Soft tangerine brightness leaked through the reflection. The sun settled down as he was the last client of the day, mainly due to his schedule. It was also perfect so that other clients wouldn’t be sitting and waiting and suddenly looking up to find the V of BTS coming out of his therapy session. He knew for sure that it would spread like wildfire. He wasn’t ashamed, but it was somewhat taboo, and people could warp the story to make it worse.

“Let me reword it.” Dr. Im suggested. “Before the group, before the fans, before you were V, you were simply Kim Taehyung so what was your happiness as Kim Taehyung?”

“Wow, you’re bringing me way back.” Taehyung chuckled lightly, glancing at the man nodding and waiting patiently.

The idol pondered on the question. What was his happiness as just Taehyung? Taehyung mentioned his happiness in previous sessions, but this was the first time it was discussed. Only because it has been a while since Taehyung looked at his past before BTS and as an idol. BTS and being an idol was his life. He didn’t realize that the last time he was happy went way back. It was likely when he lived in Geochang, his childhood days before leaving and going to Seoul to train. It seemed so long ago, being in his mid to late twenties, that it was all blur.

There was his family and school friends, school days, specifically recess and lunch, the farm, the countryside, and the distinct street food you could only get there. God, it felt like a fable. His life went from low-income farmer boy to this international pop star, the whole rags to riches spiel. But these memories didn’t feel real, almost make-believe, maybe even nonexistent. His mind couldn’t replay those memories right now, feeling too shy to reveal it all to his trusting therapist that all the people and their faces were erased.

Well, not all faces.

He remembered one face as clear as day, but he knew that face would forever be a lost longing memory.

-

It was like everyone Taehyung knew had the sixth sense of knowing when he finished his session because calls and messages bombarded his phone. The tones bounced off his eardrums, grimacing at who was raiding the device.

Sure, his group chats with the members and his friends separately. The name of his sweet, sweet girlfriend popped on the screen with texts asking “how are you” or “let me know when you get home so I could cook dinner <3.” Anyone in the world would think these gestures were supportive and caring as a girlfriend should to their partner, but now, Taehyung did not want to deal with her and eventually ignored it, putting his phone on vibrate. He thanked his therapist before leaving the office and heading down to the elevators. 

As he entered the platform, his phone vibrated continuously. He groaned and rolled his eyes, thinking it was her again. But lo and behold, it was his best friend, Park Jimin. Though hesitant, Taehyung accepted the call and answered.

“Hello,” The idol greeted monotonously.

“Why, hello, my lovely giggling bear!” Jimin’s voice sounded too ecstatic for his best friend’s liking, but he didn’t comment on it as it was usually like him. “And how was your time in therapy?”

“You know you don’t have to call after every session I attend.” Taehyung commented when he stepped out of the elevator and then the building. “You’re only gonna get the same answer—less shitty than before.” He spotted one of his company cars waiting in the parking lot and walked towards it.

“I’m just worried about you. You should know that.” Jimin huffed, and Taehyung could almost see the pout evident on his best friend’s face. “Better me than Yoongi Hyung or Namjoon Hyung.”

The mentioning of their names puts a frown on him. He knew that though supportive of his path to improvement and soul searching, the way they spoke to him felt somewhat demeaning and scolding him for every little thing. Do this, not that. You should have stopped yourself before the mess gets bigger. Why are you doing that when you clearly know you shouldn’t do that? I think this is best for you. Blah, blah, blah.

Though he didn’t mention it with Dr. Im, right before everyone split to do their own thing, Taehyung fought with his hyungs, leading to Taehyung walking out of the company building frustrated and getting wasted until the following morning and not talking to them for almost two weeks. Things were said, insults were exchanged; it didn’t matter if they were right or wrong. Taehyung didn’t want to hear what’s been repeated countless times.

“I also miss you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”Jimin announced, hoping to lighten the mood. “When I call, I wanna know how’s life for you.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but Jimin, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” Taehyung replied as he rubbed his tired eyes.

“I know you’re not fine, Tae. That’s why I’m worried.”

The idol sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself. “Anyways, how’s your family? How’s Busan?” He wanted to switch the discussion over to Jimin, hoping he would get the notion that Taehyung didn’t want to talk about that.

Jimin paused and respired, understanding what he was doing, so he gave in and updated his best friend on his life. While Jimin was talking and he traveled through the city to go home, Taehyung’s mind wandered off, thinking back about his session. What popped into his mind was not spoken, but he explained that those memories were gone as those in it were gone, his environment changed, and the hold on his attachment was slowly loosening.

But then, his therapist said something that got him thinking.

“It’s a pain to not be able to have those things right now, especially when you know they made you happy. But having those memories are key to unlocking more ways of potential bringing yourself closer to your own happiness. Putting words into action.” Dr. Im responded, writing down more scribbles in his book yet staring at Taehyung. “You’ll know the types of people you want, you know where you should be, and understand how much you want it.”

Taehyung understood his therapist, giving him some hope but not as much as the professional intended. “You mentioned people, the types of people I wanted.” Dr. Im hummed. “What if it’s not the type of people, but just…the people?”

“What do you mean, Taehyung?”

Taehyung scratched the back of his head, gradually feeling his nerves tingling. He tried laughing it off as the man before he stared attentively. “It wasn’t the types of people I was with, but the people I was with. Actually, a person, specifically.”

“Are you willing to talk about this person?”

His therapist had no clue what or who he was talking about, but it brought out many mixed thoughts and emotions. The reference to it sent an aching twist in Taehyung’s heart. He didn’t like the feeling. It only reminded him that it was over and nothing had been the best since.

“Not, right now. No.”

-

Taehyung went into his house, located at the edge of the city, to avoid any disturbances yet be within the vicinity of his work. After a sasaeng threat, he moved out of his luxurious condo in the heart of Seoul and found a comfortable and lovely two-story house in a quiet yet secured neighborhood. It helped with his living situation, but not necessarily his life.

As he closed the front door, he heard feet padding down the hallway and a soft voice speaking whimsically, “You’re home!” Skinny limbs wrapped around his torso, making him tense up, but he ultimately eased himself to the touch.

He pushed out a grin and wrapped an arm around her, kissing the crown of her head. “Hi, babe.” She raised her head with her sparkling almond eyes, smiling only for and at the sight of her boyfriend returning home. He stared back and nodded, biting the inside of his mouth.

There she was—in her raw and glorified self��Na Clara, his girlfriend of five years. Clara came from an affluent family, the Na Group conglomerate, which became a stakeholder for Big Hit back in 2016. That was where the two met—at a stakeholder’s event as Clara was there for her family and Taehyung was there as part of the band to show respect and gratuity for the support the Na family has given. That very night was where everyone said, “Tae and Clara hit it off so well.” 

As the rise of Big Hit increased, the CEO at that time, Bang Sihyuk, and Na Seong-jin, Clara’s father, made a mutual agreement to part ways but still own part of the stocks. But the departure didn’t stop the blossoming relationship between the two. After countless flirting and dates, the two made it officially the following year and have been together ever since. They got Yeontan together and moved in with one another, so Clara left her family home to stay with her boyfriend.

Of course, due to Taehyung’s idol status, they agreed to keep their relationship a secret. Clara was indeed a socialite but also had an image to maintain for the sake of her family. Still, it wasn’t as harsh to keep up as Taehyung’s. The company insisted on annual NDA renewal contracts to ensure the idol’s safety. There were no disagreements as Clara happily signed the papers because, in her words, “As long as I have my Tae, then I’m happy.”

Clara was kind and caring, even to the members and others around her, and it was easy to gain the support of their relationship. She was also a philanthropist and animal lover, donating to charities and helping rescue endangered species. She was a real golden goddess, the visual of South Korea. Her shining long, ebony locks, pale glassy skin, glittering eyes, a body many women referenced for surgery, and a heart that melted and attracted many citizens. Men wanted her. Women wanted to be her. But she didn’t care about any of that.

Because Kim Taehyung had her heart and only looked his way.

Those who did know deemed their relationship as perfect in every way. Perfect connection, perfect communication, perfect attraction, perfect visuals, perfect, perfect, perfect.

But it was anything but.

“How was therapy?” She asked as she lets go of him to run back towards the kitchen. Taehyung took his shoes off before dragging his feet to follow his girlfriend. He rolled his eyes at the same old question everyone’s been asking him, and Clara wasn’t any different.

“Less shitty than before.” He mumbled loud enough for her to hear. Then softer taps to the floor amplified before a sharp squeaking bark of fluff came towards Taehyung. He crouched down to carry his pet before standing back on his feet.

“You know you should try to be a bit more enthusiastic about this.” She said as she stirred some kind of soup. Taehyung glanced over at the pot and scowled when he caught a waft of it.

“But I’m not.” He shrugged, caressing Yeontan in his arms.

“Tae, do you even try?” With an annoyed face, she looked up to her unbothered boyfriend.

“Yes, I try. But I don’t know. There’s some shit I’m not ready to talk about.”

“Therapy is supposed to help you open up.” She started out the obvious, which made Taehyung roll his eyes. “If not with your therapist, then with me or the boys.”

“You guys won’t understand if I told you.” He scoffed after settling his dog down. Clara tried to grab him next, but the Pomeranian ran away to his kettle. “You would think I’m psychopath with all my fucked up thoughts and behaviors.”

“Tae, stop calling yourself that! I don’t like it when you say those things.” She scolded as she turned off the stove.

“What, I thought you loved my weird expressions.” He cocked an eyebrow as he sat on the counter table stool. An outsider would look at them and assume that he was only teasing, but in actuality, he was pushing her temper.

“Not when you say shit like that!” Clara shook her head before sighing. “You’re not psychopath, I never thought of you like that.”

“Bet you thought a lot of things of me.” 

Ignoring his insufferable commentary, she said sincerely, “This is to help you understand yourself better, and understand we’re here to support you. You know…”

He didn’t even bother listening to her as his messages went off. His group chat, Wooga Squad, had all his hyungs, and they discussed late-night eating plans. Taehyung checked the time, and it was already close to eight on a Tuesday night. Nightlife wasn’t as busy compared to the weekends, so it was possible that Taehyung could hang out with them too.

“Tae! Are you even listening to me?” Clara shouted, snapping her fingers in front of his face and then shaking his shoulder.

The idol blinked rapidly, almost tunneling his vision with the phone conversation. It was a tendency he did as well as spacing out. “What?”

“Ugh, I hate when you do that.” The socialite sneered. “I was just talking to you too.”

“Can you chill? What you were saying wasn’t even that important. Jimin even said the same damn thing.” Taehyung snapped as he typed his reservation for the Wooga outing.

“Who are you texting?” Clara’s eyes attempted to leer at his phone, but she was a little too far, and it was angled in a way she couldn’t see anything.

Taehyung rolled his eyes heavily at her implicit interrogation. “It’s Seojoon Hyung. They wanted to have dinner outside in like an hour.”

“Tae, I’m already done making our dinner.” She pouted as she pushed the pot in his direction. “I made kimchi jjigae.”

“Oh, that’s what it is.” Taehyung gasped sarcastically. “Yeah, I still don’t want it.”

“Hey, I’m trying to cook more, okay?” Clara frowned. With her socialite status, Clara was attended to and pampered by maids and butlers from the day she was born. Ever since she moved in with Taehyung three years ago, she had to learn how to cook and clean without any help. Taehyung had to help her at some points, and he wasn’t the best either. Actual cooking wasn’t done until a couple of months ago as the food was always take-out. But when the idol mentioned how much he missed home-cooked meals in this therapy, Clara tried her best to learn some dishes.

“You are.” He agreed as he stood up, heading towards the door. “But I’m going.”

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?” The socialite followed Taehyung like Yeontan would. She watched him put on his shoes. “I’ve missed you the whole day.”

Taehyung exhaled before standing up straight, “I guess I can spend time with you tomorrow. I have somewhat of a free day. We’ll have breakfast together.” He kissed her head and patted her hair. He held her face in his hands. “But we’ll order in.”

Her pout shifted into a suppressing smile as she pulled his hands off her. She tugged his arms to encircle her waist, then wrapped her arms around his nape. “We better.” She tiptoed to peck his lips, transmitting shivers down his spine with mixed feelings. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

It was at the ringing of his phone that rescued him off of his girlfriend to take the call. He quickly bid farewell to Clara, who waved hopelessly before he closed the door behind him.

He answered, “Hyung! What’s up?”

“Tae, are you home?” Seojoon exclaimed through the speakers.

“I was, but I’m leaving now.”

“Stay there, Wooshik and I will be there in ten minutes. We’re dropping off Joohyuk home, said he’s got a family birthday to attend.”

There has been a somewhat unofficial addition to the group—Nam Joohyuk. Some may have seen him from Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-Joo, Start-Up, or Twenty-Five Twenty-One. He has been slowly breaking the acting industry and stealing the hearts of fans worldwide, in addition to his modeling career. The group met him through Seojoon and eventually made his way into Wooga, coming to outings and trips.

However, Taehyung was weary of him. Sure, Joohyuk was pleasant and respectful towards the others and met the group’s criteria of being “too handsome,” but it was a bit off. Still, his hyungs loved spending time with him, and it can be assumed that Taehyung could be civil.

But he also kept his distance from him.

A sour face morphed onto the idol’s face, but his voice was poisonously friendly when he responded, “Aw, Hyung isn’t coming?”

“He said he’ll come next time, but not this time.”

“Yeah, unfortunate…” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “But yeah, I’ll wait for you.”

-

Walking through empty streets would seem eerie and dangerous, but it was basically heaven in Taehyung’s eyes. Wooshik suggested a place his cousin told him about, but he never looked it up until the group went. When Seojoon parked the car behind a nearby lot and got out, they realized it was completely barren.

They found out they were in a rundown part of Seoul where it was sketchy as fuck. Streetlights flickered, stray animals running, and a few individuals here and there, but they weren’t as approachable. They concluded that they were either a sex worker, a drug dealer, or someone interested in obtaining either or both. That was the one of the only reasons for anyone to be there, but it wasn’t the group’s reason.

“Wooshik, what the fuck is this place?” Seojoon scowled as they walked down the pavement. Eyes were on them, but it wasn’t the typical staring of celebrities. It was more so the eyes trying to hunt prey or wondering why the individual who clearly doesn’t fit in would come to an atypical location.

“Hyung, calm down.” Wooshik checked the maps to ensure they were going in the right direction. “It’s only the path. After that, there’ll be more activity and running places.”

“I just hope it’s not the same place as these watchers stay in.” The eldest of the bunch hoped. Let’s just say many of the sex workers had googly eyes with him the most. Worship was too busy navigating, and Taehyung felt somewhat relieved.

The idol didn’t need to hide his face or get recorded in this part of the city. Though it was a bit high-risk, there was a perk for him. Of course, he was still in constant fear of getting caught but mentally reassured himself. 

All he wanted to do was get away from all these problems, but it seemed to keep following him no matter where he went. He fucked up all that time ago, leading him to where he was: sad, enraged, and nervous. He really had no hope in things and went on dragging with what little life he had in him.

To Seojoon’s relief, they reached a pretty lit area. There were convenience stores, bars, low-rated clubs, and a small community. Most people walking and passing by were elderly, but it was safe enough.

“Jesus, this restaurant better be worth it after passing by mini Hell.” Seojoon breathed out with ease.

“You’re literally the tallest, strongest, and eldest among us.” Wooshik bluntly scoffed. “Be tough like a leopard.”

“So what? You know what can kill leopards? Lions! And you know what can kill Lions? Hyenas!” Seojoon countered at his younger. “We were surrounded by hyenas, Wooshik.”

Taehyung was grateful for his friends. Yes, he loved his members to death, but something about his friend group gave him solace, especially in these rough times. They helped him out, taking him out of the fights, limiting his alcohol and smoking, and keeping various eyes on their surroundings. This time was one of them, despite the high severity of it.

“We’re here!” Wooshik disregarded his rant, presenting the restaurant. It was small and rundown, having an entrance made by a bright blue tarp. Trash cans were filled to the brim with waste and other junk inside. Taehyung could have sworn a rat passed by. There were graffiti markings on the side, but it was still the cleanest everywhere.

Out of nowhere, two clearly-drunk large-set men stumbled out of the cloth holding onto one another. They exchanged rambling and laughing so loudly to make the bunch flinch. But out came a gentle-looking old grandmother, ensuring they were leaving safely.

“You two get home safe, okay? I called a cab for you. They’re coming soon.” The lady smiled and patted their back.

“Ohhhh, Halmeoni! Thank you so much!” One of them managed to say. “Always taking care!”

“Of course, for my loyal customers!” She laughed joyfully as she was about to go back inside, but the three extremely handsome men in front of her caught her very eyes. “Oh, welcome! Welcome to DanDan! Please come in!” She lifted the tarp open for them to enter first.

Though they were hesitant, they warmed up to her kind aura, thus going inside the restaurant. Their eyes scanned the place. It was utterly different from the outside. It held a cozier and comforting atmosphere, more intimate as compared to traditional restaurants in Seoul. It had a “family-owned” vibe, despite the customers being middle-aged men or elderly couples enjoying a night out. A male server came out from the back and handed plates, followed by busing the tables and wiping them down. Potted plants surrounded the corner, a TV in the middle, and the succulent aroma of food touched their noses.

“I’ve never seen handsome gentlemen before!” She cheered. Judging by her sentence, she knew nothing about who they were, which was a good sign.

“Oh, Halmeoni! I had a cousin come here and said your yukgaejang was out of this world!” Wooshik complimented, to which the old lady clapped in glee.

“Ahh, he’s too kind. Come, come, sit wherever you want.” She motioned towards the vacant seats. As they settled down, she handed them menus before walking away. They engaged in the list of foods to even realize she was gone.

She headed towards the back kitchen, squealing like a school girl, where she found her husband cooking and one of the only two servers fixing the plates. She eyed the particular worker before she called out their name.

“___!” Your boss whispered loudly in hopes the men didn’t hear from outside.

“Yes, Halmeoni?” You smiled, looking up from the orders that were ready to go.

“Sweetie, there’s a couple of guys out there.” She grinned, hinting at you to serve them.

You squinted your eyes at her and scrunched your nose at the thought, “Please, no more. I know you mean well, but I don’t want to talk to some creep. The last man turned out to be a scum.”

“And my apologies for that. But, this time is serious!” Your boss voiced out. “They’re super handsome, like a mother’s dream son-in-law!”

“Are you talking about me?” Your fellow coworker, Kenji, who was three years younger than you and the actual grandson of your bosses, stepped into the backroom and the conversation without permission.

“She said mother’s dream son-in-law, not Quasimodo’s twin.” You retorted, to which he stuck his tongue out to you.

“Nice one, ___!” Harabeoji laughed at his grandson.

“Kenny, please tell ___ about the handsome men out there.” Though it was bothersome at times that Halmeoni was being persistent, you enjoyed it. It reminded you of how your grandmother was to you.

“Oh, yeah. They’re super hot.” Your coworker joined in on the persuasion. “But you’re probably not their type, maybe even bottom tier that it’s last resort kind of thing.” Meanwhile, Kenji was the irritated brother you never wanted.

“First of all, that was rude, and it’s the reason why you’re still single, and second, whether they’re handsome or hot or not, I’m not looking.” You reasoned, putting up a feigned smile. 

“So what, you’re gonna die alone?” Kenji snorted, to which he received glaring eyes from you and his grandmother. He quickly shut his mouth and muttered an apology.

“It’s complicated, okay? I’m just trying to work and earn money.” You said before lifting your tray.

“Just have a look, kinda like window shop.” Halmeoni insinuated before concluding her suggestion. You sighed, giving in to making her happy, so you nodded before leaving the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the bunch wanted to order a whole receipt of the appetizing dishes, completely in awe of the prices and how good they sounded. The range of soups, meats, sides, and drinks was all too alluring.

“Looking at all of this made me hungry. I’m ready to order.” Wooshik bounced in his chair before putting the menu down. “Tae, you good enough to eat a lot?”

“Yeah, yeah.” The youngest one simply said. Though he looked at the dishes, his mind was preoccupied with everything. He thought the food would cheer him up, but it still didn’t meet his expectations.

“Don’t think about it right now. Just have some dinner with your lovely hyungs, and if you want to drink, we’ll buy some.” Seojoon proposed as he smiled reassuringly at the idol. “Also, dinner is on Wooshik.”

Worship was about to protest, but the eldest used his power card to make him shut up. “Yeah, it’s on me.”

During their conversation, you came out with the heavy trey and yelled, “Coming through!” You carefully paced towards another table and laid the food before dispersing it to the customers. All without knowing, you passed by him. 

“I’m going to the bathroom!” Taehyung announced as he stood up. The youngest had his back facing the kitchen and passageway. “Do you know where it is?”

“I think it’s just right down the hallway over there.” Seojoon pointed, making Taehyung turn his head in the direction and find the signs leading to the bathroom. All without knowing he passed by you.

“Cute waitress.” Wooshik nudged Seojoon as he caught sight of you.

Seojoon peered towards you, smiling at the elderly couple you were serving, “Looks young though, but agreed, she’s cute.” It was easier for them to spot you as they had a view of the back.

“Let’s get her attention.” Wooshik prompted before raising his hand and hollered, “Excuse me, Miss! We’d like to order.” Once you gave that table’s food, your eyes sought for your following table to attend to until you saw a hand held up. Your eyes widened at your discovery.

Not only were they attractive, but you knew who they were. Park Seojoon and Choi Wooshik were big-time actors in the country and potentially the world. Also, as an avid drama junkie who watched every drama and movie they were in, you could say you were a fan.

But obviously, you hid the fan in you away. As of now, they were somehow customers of the family-owned restaurant in a dangerous part of the city. You were good at hiding your emotions, which was fairly easy when you walked toward them with your customer service smile and gentle approach.

“Hi, welcome to DanDan. I’m ___. I’ll be serving you today.” You greeted to their liking, and you knew this because they smiled so beautifully back. “What can I get for you?” As they ordered, you wrote it down in detail as some orders were modified. They wanted dishes that weren’t spicy, no added coconut shavings, and no lemon on one. It was very particular, but you went with it. You’ve experienced picky eaters in the past, as a waitress and in life in general. 

You repeated their order, just in case you misheard, but they agreed to all. “Oh, before I forget, any drinks besides two cups of water?”

“Can we get three bottles of soju, and one coke.” Wooshik asked politely. “Oh, also three cups of water. Our other friend is in the bathroom right now.”

Hmm, another friend, they say. You wondered who it may be, Hyungsik? You knew some actors were friends with them, so it could be. You didn’t want to get your hopes high, but you couldn’t help but think if the other guy exceeded your expectations. 

You nodded mindlessly, “Okay, got your orders. I will be back with your drinks.” You turned your back as you walked towards the kitchen but stopped when Kenji came out with no task.

“Oh my God, Ken. Those men!” You whispered at your coworker so no one would hear. “Do you know who they are?”

“No? Am I supposed to know?” He denied it, taking a glimpse of the men talking to one another.

“That’s Park Seojoon and Choi Wooshik!” You beamed.

“Oh my God,” Kenji gasped. “I still don’t give a fuck.” Your mouth dropped as you scorned him.

Taehyung finally left the bathroom, walking down the hallway. While he did his business, he also thought about his happiness. The topic seemed to be under the spotlight in his brain, wanting to be recognized. He wanted happiness, like, who doesn’t? He loved when he was happy. Everything felt safe, comforting, and relaxing in his life. But it felt physically and mentally impossible for him now when those memories of when he was happy had a person in them, a specific person. Someone who truly made him feel alive and shined hope into his life.

But alas, she was no more after events that were too shameful for his liking.

All these thoughts weren’t getting him anywhere. Maybe he should give up on therapy. It was all Clara’s idea, and he just went with it to stop her pestering. It had its pros and cons, but he doesn’t know where he stood with it but him going was something? Like what was said, there was now no hope, and life dragged him. Walls seemed to cave in on him, testing how far he could go.

Then he paused at the end of the passageway with dilated pupils.

He felt his body freeze up, unable to take control of his limbs. His breath stopped for a second to gaze. His growling stomach rumbled with his anxiousness. He had to blink twice to see if it wasn’t his imagination. 

It couldn’t be; this was impossible; there was no way. The disbelief was vivid on his face but slowly made his jaw drop in shock as he processed the reality of it all. The door of lost longing memories opened with a flood as it crashed into his mind. Years of joy washed before his very eyes, years of hope sparked his nerves, years of happiness flashed on his face, and the years of the childhood friend he once had were right in front of him back after almost a decade apart.

“___?”

Tagged: @manuosorioh @kaal-ee

[croziers-compass]

There is something I think a lot about when writing Francis' character. It is the considerations. I know. I know. I ran his natal. So I cheat a little here but it's very fitting. So bear with me. Below is some details of his individual based on his natal.

He weighs and measures everything with such a mindful consideration. There is a tenderness to everything he does. He is a planner. He is a thinker. Nothing he does is done on impulse. Every little thing is considered and turned carefully in his head, and if he can help it, his hands. There is so much fluidity to him in both how he moves and how he thinks. He sees and understands from a magnitude of perspectives and yet settles comfortably in the "present". Even if it seems as if he has disregarded something entirely, it has, in actuality, played an important role in his next course of action. Everything is tender and mindful and careful. He is sitting with acute and sharp angles especially in his Asc. and Nodes but there's this mindful care that he takes even when he snaps. And I think that when he lets out the fury that it's yet graceful and full of a fire and spite and rage that is still calculated. He's Irish. And very temperamental and will always be temperamental but in all the temper and fury that rages within him it's a spitfire that comes deeply from the heart and the rich ember that burns inside of him. He is raw unadulterated energy. He is a lot of air and movement in his natal and also a lot of fire. His Ascendant is Leo which... Honestly that makes complete sense. Why would it not be? Sun in Libra. Ascendant in Leo. Moon in is Aries. This man is all fire and air which burns so brilliantly and powerfully. Two of the greatest leadership signs sitting at 29°03’ and 24°21’ in 3rd and 9th. Passion. Fire. Empathy. Rationality. Stubborn. Strong Willed. Tender. Considerate. Mindful. Thoughtful. Well-Measured. A Leader. He is equipped with such a wonderful array of balanced measures. However, despite all of this, he struggles with maintaining his inner vices and voices that drag him under. He is cruel to himself in ways he does not need to be. He is self flagellating despite the drive forwards, leading to a bit of an insecurity with anything relating to the hearts. He knows what he wants and he is certain of what he wants and he will move forwards to achieve that no matter what and will do everything he can. But not before he battles with himself over it for a long, long while. He sees and he knows and he measures well. But it might blindside his heart a little. But once he sets his eyes on something he wants. Once the fire has been lit it is not something that is doused easily. And if it does get doused it kills him and takes such a huge piece of him. He is so much fire and passion that suffocating anything that burns within him is causing him irreparable damage. This man is aflame in all of the best ways while also modestly chasing himself in circles. Nemesis in Capricorn: 2°33’ - 6 ruins me. That number is just so raw and brutal. It's just circulating around him. He brings so much in such an acute way that he is irreplaceable in the hearts and minds of others. That 2 is just hitting a hard "own worst enemy". He mends through love and what he gives others. If he does not feed his heart and exercise the fire and love he feels in his chest then he will succumb to the dampness he exerts over himself. And yet he is suspicious of many things, a skeptical eye on much while yearning for more for others and for himself that he might not be able to reach for. Giving him this sense that much he wishes for is unattainable despite everything. Balance is what he needs and he knows what he needs to do in order to move fowards. He does everything with such a fluid grace that's raw and driving and primordial and passionate full of a tender and hot fire. He really is just wonderful in so many ways and I cannot stop thinking about the cherished way he cradles everything and considers everything around him. He really is an explorer with such an expansive heart and mind that seeks to understand a broad amount. And with such love and tender care despite the pain and tragedy that follows him. I hope this is the end of my word vomiting. Because this has been building up inside of me for about a mon

[discluded]

If my actions towards my fave resulted in a statement from the CEO & my fave tell me to pack it up I would just delete myself from the Internet. I know tss don't care about Mile even a little bit but the dude finally got his own poster like 2 days ago and who knew him posting photos of it's advertising debut could have resulted in such a shitshow. Man got 1 day of promo and also stopped posting about it too as soon as it became a huge deal, This should be the time both him and Apo should be overwhelmed with joy at all the promos.

Haha, I'm gonna put these two together if it's okay, if only because I also want to use the second one to highlight a point.

I'm currently struggling with the idea of whether or not these kinds of people are really "fans" but given that the word fan comes from fanatic, their behavior does count as such

I actually particularly liked that Merriam-Webster added this one:

It also gives me a pause what it means to be a "fan" of someone of what you know them for (eg, being an actor) and are no longer supporting that art. Obviously, in the situation with Apo, these fanatics are proposing a boycott of the movie that Apo is starring in in order to get their way. On the other hand, Apo has always drawn a line between the personal and the professional. He's very passionate about the fact he's an actor, and he is a professional model and of course art needs to be funded nor can we expect someone to be always working.

But if you are boycotting the art of the artist you're a fan of, then what are you actually a fan of? I think therein lies the problem with the acceleration of famous-for-being-famous, microcelebrity and online celebrity culture, where people make their entire personas into brands.

As with the second case, if the artist is no longer an artist (on account of burning every single professional bridge and even the foundations of ones that can be built) then what is there left to be a fan of? His video game streaming?

I've had some interesting conversations with @blramblingx2 the last couple of days about specifically microcelebrity culture within Chinese fandoms, which can be boiled down to: when there are 1.6 billion people, everyone is a drop in a bucket. People feel that their direct support (read: historical definition of patronage) is contributing to the success of an individual. The more "microcelebrity" an individual is, the more the self-perceived importance of the fan's patronage is in return.

In all these cases, it's about the fan's ego more than the actual artist or their art. That's why we see people claiming that Apo is their "favorite" hurt by his comments rather than than respecting his perspective and trying to avoid hurting him again. So many of them have already thrown a fit and left. (My worry is that their fanaticism is so deep they won't leave him, which is more of a problem for him.)

Of course, no one is always working, and there are fans who stood by Apo's side even when he was in New York and excitedly anticipated his return. Musicians take hiatuses between albums and tours. But this is why I always try to emphasize my role in supporting Mile and Apo's work even when I'm a fan of them as individuals. You can't divorce the artist from the art nor the artist from the times they're not working.

But I'm trying to respect boundaries they both have set between the private and professional, and hoping to set an example too in how to be a fan. I'll say this as someone who produces art too -- it is touching when your work affects and moves people as the creator. And they are genuine in their affection to fans. Let's as fans always prioritize supporting the art they are so proud of that they know moves so many and helps them gain new fans.

Anyway I don't have a good conclusion to this today, but please enjoy this adorable picture of Apo. 🤏

[enterprisewired]

Asha Honeysett: A Maestro in Imparting the Art of a Fulfilling Life

Personal development is a vital factor that shapes a person’s life. However, it is also the foundation of an individual’s professional development. While keeping oneself motivated at all times is easier said than done, doing so can provide a clearer path to life. 

Especially in the workplace, it can help you build a successful career and demonstrate your full potential. Keeping this in mind, numerous business leaders are imparting personality development services and playing the role of a life coach in people’s lives. One such woman business leader is Asha Honeysett, Founder of Light Tower, a personal development company.

A Personal Story Leads to the Idea

Asha’s interest in behavioral science was led by a tragic mishap. After an unfortunate accident, her father was left with a 68 percent disability due to severe trauma to the brain. To help her father and other patients like him, she decided to pursue behavioral science and completed a Bachelor in Psychological Science (Hons I) and a Master of Clinical Psychology.

She has spent the last 15 years immersed in understanding what defines someone’s quality of life. Beyond her studies, she credits her father for being her greatest teacher in what it means to transcend the human condition, move beyond pain, and live with inner peace and purpose.

Settled in Australia and leading a happy life with her husband, Asha is sought for her skills across countries. She takes pride in uplifting those around her. Her clients are now recognized for tackling well-being differently in the workspace. They are the recipients of various national awards, including being the Finalist for ‘Wellness Initiative of the Year 2021’ by the Australian Law Awards.

Asha Honeysett adds, “My passion is simple – help people alleviate their (often-silent) suffering, access and live from the best that is within them, and inspire them to pay it forward in their most meaningful endeavors. People’s state of being is contagious, and if we train people how to have their set-point as the best that is within them, they naturally uplift others wherever they go and the ripple effect is exponential.” 

An Exclusive Framework

Asha created the ‘Diamond Mind to Manifestation Model,’ a cutting-edge model of reality that unifies scientific fields and elegantly unfolds to demonstrate the emergent process of self-actualization. It acts as a game changer in the high-performance industry. The models are specifically designed to break the high-performance-burn-out pattern and train participants from the inside out. It incorporates the necessary processes and practices for sustained high performance and fulfillment across all domains of life.

She recognizes that providing disruptive solutions related to mental health and high performance via elevating consciousness comes at a cost. However, she believes that the cost not to embark on it is greater.

The early life experiences gave her a deep appreciation for the fact that the storms of life will hit, and it’s how people respond, and more importantly, who you become, makes the difference for long-term sustainable success, as well as living a fulfilled life. Born in Darwin, Australia, Asha always felt deeply connected to her homeland and believes those early years were central to how she grew up to see the world around her. 

Faced Matters Head-on

Asha believes anything that is new needs to be developed from ground zero. We should learn from others who have walked the path we are into now, to optimize growth. As a health professional, she implemented a different mindset to enter into the entrepreneurial arena. She had the enthusiasm to stand out and find integrative ways of being. She challenged the status quo of how well-being and human potential are foreseen. With this opinion, she also says that having the right support team is essential who holds the passion. 

When disastrous conditions arise, it is important to be at a choice point, says Asha Honeysett. The mind imagines the worst-case scenario most of the time. The reactive part of the brain doesn’t know the difference between a real experience and an unreal experience. To be focused, some basic self-care practices need to be practiced by humans. We need to peek into our minds and set our sights on what is the most vital to us at a given time. 

Hard Work Leads to Triumph

Asha Honeysett has been recognized as among the ‘Top 20 Life Coaches to Lookout For in 2022′ by Entrepreneurs Herald, NYC Journal. As a psychologist and corporate consultant Asha has had the pleasure of working with several large organizations, including in male-dominated fields. About the women-centric initiatives she believes that being able to contribute to these programs for enhancing women’s leadership via enhancing the psychology and understanding of why humans respond the way they do, seems to be again moving the needle on what is possible in creating deep and insightful workplaces. 

Asha’s work has already received global limelight, as she is the recipient of the Hall of Fame awards for eminent personalities. She is among the Top 20 Life Coaches. She believes mental health isn’t just for tough times; it’s crucial for maximizing progress, pursuing dreams, and enjoying life fully. 

Covid’s Impact

After many years of delivering therapy to people from all walks of life, Asha Honeysett began to recognize the edges of practicing psychology in traditional settings and using traditional modalities. She hit the ground running when the pandemic first hit. While working in a private practice at the time she saw traditional services become overwhelmed with long and expanding waitlists. 

With seemingly no end in sight, it quickly became obvious that there was a need for an alternative to access traditional support for how to not only adapt but thrive in the new landscape. Having a strong interest in growth following adversity and what creates the highest quality of life from the inside out, she decided to start offering high-performance mindset practices to help ensure people came out of the Corona era more resilient and self-actualized than ever before. 

She firmly believes in gaining mastery of the discipline. One’s life force is taken on when a person is fully immersed in his/her passions by continued hunger. In this way, Light Tower came about- to serve as a light for the darkness for those who are trying to answer the inner calling. The company teaches models of self-transcendence based on the principle of consilience.

Strength is the Weakness

Asha Honeysett states her strength is her weakness too. It is like a switch that doesn’t seem to turn off for her. Her strength also includes her insights. She says people need to take time to heal, learn more, and become more of who they truly are, she believes the world will be a better place.

The Diamond Mind Program

The Diamond Mind Program trains the three core facets of the mind’s processing ability. Elevating conscious awareness, activating your highest-order intentions, and training your focused attention. The model moves you out of distraction and into optimal action for your highest vision of the future. Asha Honeysett highlights a great quote by Jim Rohn,

It is the set of the sails, not the direction of the wind that determines which way we will go.

In addition, she has shared a list of questions that one can ask themselves to refocus the mind after the storm has hit. 

Here are those questions:  

What am I aware of in this situation?

What is my mind attempting to tell me as the “truth of this situation?”

Is it possible that my mind has reminded me of an old fear or an old story in an attempt to keep me safe in this situation? 

To move forward in a meaningful way, what do I need to let go of?

What past hurt, what old story, what thinking habits, feeding habits, and behavioral habits?

What do I need to align myself with to transcend this circumstance?

What empowering thoughts, what emotional state, what behaviors?

What is my highest-order vision of the future in this area of my life and who do I need to become to move towards it?

Maneuvering Through the Depths

Asha Honeysett’s philosophy revolves around securing her most meaningful goals, the 3 deep C’s—deep curiosity, deep care, and deep commitment. She believes that when a person can train the mind to be deeply curious, they can suspend judgment and get back into generating creative solutions. Deep care enables lasting connections as one co-creates the most meaningful outcomes, as success isn’t a solo pursuit. The deep commitment allows us to stay the course even when the going gets tough.

Asha Honeysett says, “The world is at a critical point of change and people are hungry to experience the best that life has to offer. This has created an openness and willingness to explore the self and what is possible like never before. It is deeply meaningful for me to be able to contribute to this need at this time, offering a light for the darkness and a unified system to guide and cultivate – the purpose within.”

[fluffynexu]

ART BY @plushchimera !!!

pls give the artist all the love!

small snippit under the cut if anyone’s interested... >>;

Scourge heard the news that morning. Darth Sundar, Roshana, had died.

Her death was broadcasted on nearly all of the major Imperial news channels. The usual talking heads spoke of her life, her great contributions, and paid tribute to “one of the greatest Sith of our time”. 

He recalled an offhand remark she made to him years ago, the context of the broader conversation no longer important. Her words: You can cry for me when I’m dead. But now that it had actually happened, he found he had no tears for her. Even though he once had longing, passion, and love burning in the depths of his heart, there was nothing now except for a small flicker that threatened to extinguish at any moment. 

Scourge turned off the broadcasting device within his small, private sanctum in the Citadel as the skies over Kaas City rumbled with rolling clouds that promised another thunderstorm.

He brought forth the memories of Rosha. Her smile, her laughter, her eyes, the sound of her voice as she sang, or the way she moved and danced to music… And while it was useless to dwell upon them, he stubbornly held onto each memory as if they were fleeting dreams. 

Shaking off his dreams of another life, Scourge made his way around the room when a knock caught his attention. The door opened to reveal one of the Imperial Guards holding a large, slim tube.

The guard handed off the tube to Scourge. “This was addressed to you.” 

One of Scourge’s brow stalks rose, but he nodded and accepted the package.

“Is that all, or does the Emperor need someone killed?”

“Not until Felsday,” the Guard replied.

“Very well then.”

The Guard bowed as he left.  

With the door closed, Scourge was left in the silence of his dim room as rain began to fall outside. He eyed the tube, slowly turning it in his hands a couple of times before opening one end of it. Inside was a rolled canvas and a sheet of flimsi that fell to the floor. 

He unfurled the canvas to reveal a painting he had done many years ago. 

It must’ve been decades by now and while his eyes no longer saw the vibrant shades he used to, he could still see the painting’s colors in his mind’s eye. 

He recalled how, once Rosha had discovered his hobby of oil painting, she’d goaded him at random moments to do a painting of her. Scourge would always decline, too insecure of his abilities to adequately capture her likeness that’d do any sort of justice. Besides, he stuck to still life paintings and Rosha is—or was—a very animated individual. 

After what seemed like half an eternity he finally gave into her request. She was so happy and rather smug, until he told her to stay still for more than a minute. Then it was nothing but complaints from her. He didn’t mind, he had found it amusing then. 

Scourge managed in the end… after she convinced him to use a holopicture as a reference so she could sit beside him and watch. While it was unnerving to paint with an audience, his enjoyment of her company, of her warm body pressing against his, outweighed any reservations he had. When he finally finished he was rewarded with a smile from her that made the very stars dim in shame. 

Yes, it was a happier moment in his life. One he’d treasure even if it did not stir the same old emotions. For now Scourge pushed the memories and the painting aside as he picked up the flimsi that fell.

The words on the sheet were in Kittât and written in a familiar handwriting. Scourge stared down at the letter, reading and rereading it. Every word and their meanings became etched into his mind. But one part stood out in particular. 

…our daughter…

He had a daughter…

A soft sigh escaped from his lips as a drop of water stained the letter. Then another drop followed. 

Scourge tilted his head up to see if there were any leaks in the ceiling, but of course there weren't. His room was nowhere close to the top of the Citadel. Then where?... 

He looked back down at the letter and a third drop fell. 

There could be… one other possible explanation. 

Slowly he brought a hand up and thoroughly wiped his eyes. He looked upon his hand to realize it was slightly wet. Was he… crying? A small smile slowly grew on his face at the realization. 

Even though the Emperor had stripped him of his senses, his emotions, and most of his humanity… there was still a part of him, no matter how deeply buried, that felt. And it seemed that this part of him wept for the love he lost and the life he could've had. 

[thedragonnerd]

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

(inspired by this lovely anon)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[romanticchemacademic]

Dear future health professionals and stem professors,

We need a revolution of thought. Only through a renaissance of pure and genuine passion towards medicine and other sciences will we have competent doctors, nurses, other healthcare workers, and teachers. We live in a world where people pursue noble professions for the sake of social and economic advancement. However, we lack individuals who love the process of learning and their career.

I recollect quite a marvelous excerpt written by one of the world’s greatest scientific minds, Albert Einstein. In his book, The World As I see It he writes:

ACADEMIC CHAIRS ARE MANY, but wise and noble teachers are few; lecture rooms are numerous and large, but the number of young people who genuinely thirst for truth and justice is small. Nature scatters her common wares with a lavish hand, but the choice sort she produces but seldom.

We all know that, so why complain? Was it not ever thus and will it not ever thus remain? Certainly, and one must take what nature gives as one finds it. But there is also such a thing as a spirit of the times, an attitude of mind characteristic of a particular generation, which is passed on from individual to individual and gives a society its particular tone. Each of us has to do his little bit towards transforming this spirit of the times.

Compare the spirit which animated the youth in our universities a hundred years ago with that prevailing today. They had faith in the amelioration of human society, respect for every honest opinion, the tolerance for which our classics had lived and fought. 

  I believe that one of the faults lies within education institutions. Educators rely on testing, textbooks, and detached memorized lectures. Lectures lack passion and another essential factor: the real practice. The theory is important but the practice is necessary to understand the theory. But without passion, nobody will learn to love the material being taught. Ibn Sina is known for being one of the greatest physicians and teachers of Islamic medicine. I am not completely sure whether what I am about to mention is true. But I read that when he lectured theory to the medical students at the Madrassa (University) he would show them how it worked. Besides medical history and theory. He also taught physics, astronomy, philosophy, and mathematics. However, he is also famed for being an excellent teacher duly because he would take his students to test out the theories and practice what they have been taught. If they were learning medical theory, they were taken to the hospital to observe patients and their cases. If they were learning astronomy, they would all gather in the evening to look up at the heavens to look at the constellations. Lastly, his passion for his vocation was the final touch. Educators without the drive cannot teach. Learning is about understanding oneself, others, and the world. Learning evolves our minds and our spirits by making us get in harmony with the universe. I believe this ties in with Aristotle’s famous saying, “The unexamined life is not worth living”. Though my interpretation may be a wee bit off, I translate it as thus; we can gather all textbook knowledge as possible but if we do not put into practice the knowledge learned, what is the point? I yearn and I pine to experience all that I have learned. I want to see why the theory makes sense in reality. I want to conduct experiments. So much potential is being wasted. Biology is the study of life. However, when I took the course, it was so cold to a point that it did not even feel like I was studying the human body but something alien instead. There is also such a rush to memorize material within a couple of weeks because of exams that the material ceases to be interesting and becomes more of an arduous chore instead. Our sense of time-shifted completely after the industrial revolution. Perhaps this is a reason why we feel the need to rush through everything and not take our time to study profoundly. 

We need another Scientific Revolution, curious minds thirsting for the acquisition of knowledge and unanswered questions. However, I believe that the leading force behind this is a necessity. I would like to mention an example to illustrate what I mean from a novel I read a while ago called, The Physician by Noah Gordon. A boy from Medieval Europe lost his mother from an unknown disease leaving him orphaned. He then grew up with the necessity to learn what the disease was and how to prevent other similar deaths, so that others do not suffer what he has suffered. He then worked with Barbers (people who performed medical procedures in Medieval Europe). But the medical knowledge these professionals had was not enough to answer his question. Thus, he traveled to Persia where there was a quite renowned and exclusive medical school. He did not have the economic means or previous schooling to attend but he impressed the headmaster with his passion and knowledge. Thus, the headmaster admitted him into the Madrassa. The European boy then invested all his time doing research, dissections and treating patients until he finally found out what ailment caused his mother’s death, side sickness (appendicitis). He figured out a way to treat this illness, removal of the appendix. From his initial necessity which was the driving force for him to pursue a medical career, he became a famous physician and felt that all his suffering and odyssey were worthwhile. The sense of necessity leads to the feeling of passion. It was his love for his mother that made him follow such a journey full of obstacles. I am beginning to apply that to my own life. I want to figure out my necessity which will be the driving force to power through university and medical school without ever feeling burnt out. I want to feel fulfilled. I believe this is what all pre-medical students and teachers should think about. What is your necessity? We are going to be dealing with human life, someone’s mother, father, friend, sister, uncle, lover, husband, or child...It is not something to be taken lightly. I know so many doctors lacking empathy because they went into the medical field with just the intention of being acknowledged as “Doctors” and getting rich. But I feel that even the most apathetic healthcare workers can become great empathetic professionals the moment they realize that something was triggered deep inside them, perhaps a loved one having an unknown disease. This would lead the apathetic doctor to do mass amounts of research to try to find a cure. This feeling becomes a necessity. A necessity to not lose the loved one. A necessity to save lives. Thus, finding passion, purpose, and becoming a better person. Though each person is different, we all share a selfish feeling. Most of the time we do not truly care about other peoples’ suffering until it happens to us. Once we are affected by something, we drive all our time and attention to find a solution or a way to deal with a problem. We become consumed and completely obsessed by it. I regard this as passion. I do not think passion subsides, it lingers on inside us. It is a fire that never burns out. I remember my high school teacher writing in my yearbook:

Remember a few things, BE PATIENT. You are eager and you will accomplish so much. But take your time, you are always rushing. Life is a journey, it is not about the destination. Be picky. You love everything with enthusiasm but enthusiasm can burn out. Find a fire inside yourself that burns for a long time.

-V

We cannot rush our personal legend. I believe it comes to us. It is Maktub (it’s written). But we also have to do something. Imagine you are on a stranded island but you have a machete, a fishing rod, coconuts, a cave for shelter, wood for a fire, an ocean full of fish. Everything required for survival is there, but you simply have to cut open the coconut with the machete, go fishing for food, fire to cook, and warmth. The fish isn’t going to swim right into your hands and the fire will not light itself. We must use our resources and do our bit. The Universe has a lot going on, we must help out a bit.

If you ever think about quitting, try to remember what made you start your odyssey in the first place. I do not know what my necessity is yet but that is okay. I believe it will come to me eventually. So for now, I simply love to romanticize academia. I like to imagine the: earthy tones of the universities archways, cobblestone paths, laboratories with clean Erlenmeyer flasks, beakers, pristine white lab coats, bunsen burner flames changing colors as different salts are added, Bromothymol Blue pen stains, elegant calculations inside a worn leather-bound notebook, formulas scrawled over the blackboard, forgotten cold Irish breakfast tea on the desk, academics discussing theories, applause from a successful experiment, gray rainy days spent inside the lab, Whitman, Hemingway, et Sir Arthur Conon Doyle being read during break, intellectual conversations with professors, chemistry reports being written, molecular models built, volumes of ancient words, fire slowly burning in the stone fireplace, trying to understand, looking at the constellations on a clear night in the astronomy tower, reciting poetry, Tchaikovsky playing whilst completing a long lab report on Lê Chatelier’s theory of Equilibrium, curious minds, sleepless evenings in the library, beautiful anatomical illustrations...Just imagining these things motivate and inspire me to continue my path. Though it may seem superficial, it awakens something inside me. I yearn and I pine to become a Chemistry Romantic. 

I want to conclude this letter by saying that pupils and educators keep ideals alive and can change them accordingly as well. We have the power to become excellent professionals or simply exist and do nothing for the human race. But if you plan on becoming a physician or educator, you must find the trigger which brings your passion to life, your necessity. Once you find that, you are guaranteed greatness and fulfillment. However, do not rush. Perfection takes time. A couple of obstacles should not hinder you from persevering. Many will tell you to give up but do not. That is the Universe testing you. Do your best until you master the topic. Once you know better, you are then able to do better. 

Regards,

Confessions from a Chemistry Academic

[thewayshedreamed]

Somewhere Masterlist

Modern Nessian AU

Summary: Nesta and Cassian dated years ago. Their relationship was passionate in the best and worst of ways, causing them to split just short of a few months together. Ever since, they’ve fallen into a pattern of communicating physically; a true definition of hot-and-cold if there ever was such a thing. They have made attempts to move on, to be with other people, but something has always pulled them right back to each other. 

Their insistence on each other created quite the toxic dynamic for themselves and the important people in their lives, dismantling relationships and creating secrets that never needed to be. They’re a complete mess, both together and as individuals, but the thought of being without the other seemed impossible. 

This au follows their sordid affair and their individual healing. Hopefully, it’s not all a day late and a dollar short. 

This fic contains mutual pining, strong language, toxic relationship dynamics, mentions of infidelity, drug use, alcohol use, mentions of abuse, and sexual content. NSFW.

Fic will also contain healing and growth for all involved.

Inspired by the song, “Is There Somewhere” by Halsey. Lyrics are posted at the end of Part 1 in case you haven’t heard it! 

> acotar masterlist       > fanfic masterlist

Chapters:

> ao3

Part 1 • Nesta POV

She knew she shouldn’t go over to him and say thank you; knew that she should keep herself planted in this very bar stool and pray to the Mother that he did the same. That night in the cabin had initiated a passionate and sordid coupling; as toxic as it could possibly be.

Part 1.5 • Cassian POV

The rational part of his brain knew it wasn’t her fault; that she had nothing to do with it at all considering all she did was merely exist. But the malignant anger within wanted someone to blame, and for a second, he considered taking the cheap way out and putting it on her shoulders, anyway.

Part 2 • Cassian POV

“I ended up at Rita’s, drinking whiskey and feeling sorry for myself. I’d been there about an hour, and of course, she walks through the door. Fucked me up instantly.”

“Not Julia,” Azriel clarified, but it wasn’t really a question. He knew.

“Not Julia.”

Part 3 • Nesta POV

Which is why she was here, in Velaris, grasping at the smallest dose of Cassian she could hope to contact. She’d so artfully talked herself into believing that was all they could manage, that anything more would end in ruins just as they did before. They weren’t meant for forever, she told herself. They were meant to burn up hard and bright.

Part 4 • Cassian POV 

The opening of Rita's backdoor, and the subsequent roar of a small crowd, jarred his senses rudely. His head snapped toward the door, just in time to see Nesta slipping out and shutting it quickly behind her. He took in her fitted black dress, hugging each of her delicate curves in a way that tortured him. The look on her face wasn't much better; her brows scrunched together in concern.

Part 5 • Nesta POV 

She let out a soft chuckle at the mental image his text conjured. His asymmetrical smile he wore when he drank was living rent free in her brain, and she cursed herself for letting her brain wander so quickly.

IMPORTANT- This chapter contains depictions of emotional manipulation, some physical abuse, and the use of sex as a way of escaping an abusive encounter. I have marked that scene with **TW** so that you’ll know where to stop reading if these things are especially sensitive for you, and I marked the end of that scene with **** so that you can resume reading if you wish. 

Part 6 • Cassian POV 

She didn’t say anything in response; only took small steps in his direction. As if encouraged by the fact that he stood resolutely in place, she picked up her pace before she was nearly running toward him. Cassian could only brace himself for impact, he thought, judging by the determination over the elegant planes of her face.

Part 7 • Nesta POV 

She resisted the urge to fling herself with abandon against his body. It was another offer from a distant time in their lives; where she used his body as an anchor and lamented over life’s struggles against his chest. Easing her body slowly against him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his sternum. Her legs were sprawled behind her, running parallel to his long one stretched along her body. The heat of his frame grounded her; something that usually set fire to her blood was now a comforting, enveloping warmth.

Part 8 • Cassian POV 

The French doors opened silently, leaving Nesta completely undisturbed by his arrival. Cassian paused with the doorknob in hand, temporarily mesmerized by the look on her face. To see her unfiltered, completely enraptured in the novel she was reading, was breathtaking. Cassian believed that if more people were blessed enough to see her so content and happy, there would be almost no one that wasn’t completely in love with her.

Part 9 • Nesta POV 

As she should have predicted, Cassian and Claire made fast friends. Their likeness had never really stood out to Nesta, but watching them interact at dinner made it painfully obvious. Both of them spoke animatedly about various subjects and made each other laugh almost effortlessly. Most notably, they both seemed to hold an opinion of Nesta near reverence, and she found herself feeling warm all over at that realization.

Part 10 • Cassian POV

Nesta’s eyes widened slightly as she processed his words, and he could almost see the evidence of her scanning his plan for weak spots. She must have determined there was nothing noteworthy and shook her head gently. A satisfied, playful smirk donned the elegant planes of her face.

“I’m positive that you’ve never been hotter in your entire life,” she delivered casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Cassian threw his head back as he laughed at her joke. The combination of such a bold declaration and her dry delivery tickled him in a way he hadn’t felt in some time, and he relished in the way his stomach tired at the effort. When he mastered himself enough to drop his gaze to hers, Nesta wore a satisfied smirk at her handy work.

Part 11 • Cassian POV 

Cassian pressed their floor number in the elevator and leaned back on his hands against the bar. It made him think of the last time he’d ridden an elevator in a hotel in Velaris, Nesta’s room as his destination. They had come such a long way since then.

He knocked loudly and stepped back a bit to not crowd the door. Suddenly, he heard the knob click and snapped his attention to it. Claire’s beaming smile greeted him, and he felt a rush of affection usually reserved for people he’d known longer than a week. He just couldn’t help but like her.

Claire let out a low whistle as she blatantly scanned his form. Cassian made a show of straightening his bow tie and shot her a wink. “I clean up okay?”

Part 12 • Nesta POV

Claire was on the dance floor with Cassian, the pair of them dancing ridiculously among their group of friends and family. Nesta had excused herself to use the restroom and then parked herself at a nearby table, content to be an onlooker for the time being. Her friends broke into laughter once the song ended, clutching their sides as they made their way over to her table. Nesta’s throat tightened at seeing them together, looking as if they were the oldest of friends. She almost believed they had been in another life.

Part 13 • Cassian POV

He couldn’t stand it any longer and leaned away slightly to turn her in his arms. She went willingly, hooking her fingers between the third and fourth buttons of his dress shirt as she’d done so many times before. Cassian used a hand to tilt her chin up, steeling his nerves against the possibilities clouding her blue eyes. 

Part 14 • Nesta POV

What had she thought really? That Cassian went around declaring his love for anyone and everyone he spent more than a half hour with? She knew better than that even then, but could she have walked away from him if she let herself believe anything else?

Part 15 • Cassian POV

Seconds passed with Cassian nearly gawking at her before he cleared his throat. He took a long swig of juice before angling himself back, his elbow propped against the back of his chair. Something by his door caught his eye, and upon further inspection, he realized it was Nesta's suitcase from the hotel. She really had come straight from dropping Claire at the airport, and the thought made him smile.

Part 16 • Nesta POV

Nesta smiled to herself. In the week since she showed up at his apartment, they had developed a very sophisticated system of seeing each other without tipping off anyone else. In other words, they were sneaking around like they were 18 years old and forbidden from seeing each other.

Part 17 • Cassian POV

Perhaps he should have been a bit more nervous as he pulled into Rhysand and Feyre's driveway. He and Nesta were supposed to tell their family about their relationship, and he had a strange feeling of peace about it. In the past, he may have hesitated due to their family's tendency to meddle, but the decision to damn their opinions had freed him of any concern.

Part 18 • Nesta POV

Nesta hummed her skepticism, but she admired his nerve in persisting. She would have given up on her frigid heart many moons before, but Rhysand seemed undeterred.

"I meant no offense when you and Cassian shared your relationship."

"Oh?" Nesta's eyebrows crept up her forehead of their own accord. "Was the compliment meant for those clever enough to uncover it?"

Part 19 • Cassian POV

Nesta's silence wasn't easily ignored, however. Despite his best efforts to keep his focus in a more productive place, his body—his soul— reached for her, begged to know if she was okay or what she was thinking. How was he supposed to navigate such a primal need of fight of flight when the threat was unclear? Never mind the idea that his godsforesaken brain could do well to stop painting her as the villain at every opportunity in some pathetic attempt of self-defense.

Part 20 • Nesta POV

Nesta swallowed against her rapidly escalating emotions and turned to tuck her face into Cassian’s chest. His scent was bittersweet, equal parts a soothing tonic to her nerves and a brutal hit of nostalgia that made her homesick. Tearing away from his body seemed an impossible task, so she did the sensible thing and hugged him tighter.

Part 21 • Cassian POV

Concealing a chuckle, he shook his head affectionately. He missed her viscerally— her harmless scowl and how she fought her smile anytime they had similar conversations. He’d have loved to kiss her senseless to coax that damned smile free.

Part 22• Cassian POV

Feyre’s head dropped back as she laughed, and it was so contagious that it managed to drag a chuckle from beneath the weight of Cassian’s ribs.

“You know, as quick as you are to defend Nesta, maybe it’s worth giving her a little more credit yourself,” Feyre said, her tone soft.

Part 23 • Nesta POV — coming soon! 

[we-are-inevitable]

fire & ice au - javid

i have an au concept. and it's,, very convoluted. and more serious than my typical fics. but, i present to you, something i came up with during my TGS days:

a little thing i like to call the "fire & ice au", for lack of a better title at the moment.

so, in this universe, you have your 'normal people', but you also have... not necessarily mutants, but a different variation of people. they look like typical humans, but these people are born with powers and/or abilities.

because i am gay, these powers and/or abilities are elemental and connected to the natural world.

ANYWAY, those born with powers are respected in varying ways, and the powers are separated by 'classes'- so, within this group, there's a hierarchy between powers based on perceived purity/'importance'.

more, plus Javid content, under the cut!!!!

OFFICIAL SOCIETAL HIERARCHY:

Born of Ice; upper class

Born of Water; upper-middle class

Born of Earth; middle class

Born of Fire; lower class

CLASS DESCRIPTIONS:

Born of Ice: these people are seen as 'pure' and 'regal'; people Born of Ice are not as common as others, which is what makes them more 'desirable'. they tend to be more respected, and are stoic, cold, and calculated. though they're highly respected, they're still very dangerous.

Born of Water: they're much less rigid than those Born of Ice, and are more common, but they're still respected a reasonable amount by the general population. they're kind, but tempermental; unforgiving but loyal to those who treat them right.

Born of Earth: those Born of Earth are laid back and caring; they have other's best interests at heart and are the natural caregivers of the population. they're often very bright and bubbly; these people are the middle ground between 'Normal People' and those born with powers.

Born of Fire: these people are the least desirable in the eyes of society. they're seen as dangerous and destructive; however, they're very warm, and faithful toward those they love. they're treated unfairly, but make up most of the population amongst those with powers.

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES:

Born of Ice: their skin is very cool-toned. they have what looks like frost on certain parts of their body; fingertips, cheekbones, shoulders. all of them have striking blue eyes, no matter what their family history is. also, their body temperature is naturally lower than a regular human's; they can't be in extreme heat without feeling deathly ill, and are easily burnt.

POWERS INCLUDE: creating frost and ice; snow is also common, but not really? also all of them suck at emotional regulation, so stressful situations create more violent destructive outbursts.

Born of Water: their physical attributes aren't as extreme or rigid: most, but not all, have blue eyes, and most have curly/wavy hair. those Born of Water are easily masked in crowds! however, they do have distinct scents, like saltwater or rain. not many weaknesses.

POWERS INCLUDE: water manipulation/rain creation

Born of Earth: they basically look like regular humans, but they have brighter green eyes, and- in some Very powerful individuals- they'll have vines wrapping around their upper arms/ankles. not many weaknesses.

POWERS INCLUDE: floral manipulation/minimal healing

Born of Fire: HERE we get extreme again. those Born of Fire have warmer skin tones; they also have brown/orange/red eyes. their fingertips, cheekbones, and chest oftentimes appear charred. they're also prone to scarring. extreme cold is highly uncomfortable for them; they have a naturally high body temperature, but cold makes them feel drained and tired much faster.

POWERS INCLUDE: flame manipulation, heat manipulation. emotional outbursts are common, as their tempers aren't the best.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

those Born of Elements are typically respected ONLY if they're of an Elemental family.

so, say someone is Born of Ice, but they're the only one in their family who has the power.

they would be an outcast, and would be treated very unfairly, because even though Ice is the most acceptable by a societal standpoint, it's STILL different from being 'normal'.

the same goes for everyone Born of Elements, no matter the class. if they're the only one in their immediate family, they're automatically the lowest on the totem pole.

ACTUAL AU:

i say ALL OF THAT to say:

Javid au with Jack as someone Born of Fire, and Davey as someone Born of Ice, and exploring that relationship along with societal pressure.

i don't necessarily have a reason for davey being Born of Ice other than he would be SO pretty with the unnaturally blue eyes/frosty attributes

and jack, a working boy, with charred skin and fiery eyes, who radiates warmth and comfort despite being told every day that all he brings is danger and destruction....... GOD...........

and the juxtaposition between fire and ice would make for SUCH an interesting relationship dynamic?

because, well, davey is cold- figuratively and literally. he's not rude, but he's calculated and quiet and and not exactly the most outgoing person.

meanwhile, jack is passionate and loud and loyal to a fault; he's the embodiment of the sun, in terms of personality, and that sometimes comes back to bite him in the ass.

but together, they'd be unstoppable.

jack warms davey up; he teaches him that there is no weakness in being open, he laughs with him, he makes sure that davey is always happy and safe.

meanwhile, davey cools jack down; he helps him think before he acts, he teaches him to only fight when it's worth it, and he helps Jack keep his hot-headed nature under control.

and it's really interesting, seeing how the PHYSICAL side of things could play out ?? bc like. even holding hands would be weird, bc jack is naturally warmer and davey is naturally cooler, and it's a fine line of keeping themselves in check so not to accidentally hurt each other. jack could easily burn davey, or davey could make jack ill by lowering his body temp too much; it's dangerous, but they make it work.

they always make it work.

PLOT ??

i imagine it being in canon era; most of the newsies are Born of Elements, cast aside from their families for having their specific abilities.

SIDE NOTE: abilities usually show up around the age of,, ten??

anyway, the newsies have their elemental attributes, and most of them were the sole elementals in their family.

jack has been a newsie since he was eleven; his father didn't exactly take the news too well that his only son was Born of Fire. it actually jack a long time to climb the ranks amongst the newsies, because he was seen as the 'lowest' on the elemental hierarchy. but once he's seen as the 'leader' of the newsies, things change; all boys are treated the same, no matter what abilities they have, and jack makes sure of it.

now, enter davey jacobs.

davey- and his younger brother- join the newsies after their father is injured.

les fits in well; many of the newsies also have no elemental abilities, so he's easily taken in, but... davey is a different story.

because davey is Born of Ice.

and, well, people Born of Ice are rare. there aren't many in the general population, which means that davey is the only manhattan newsie Born of Ice.

when he shows up, most of the newsies are very taken aback; they have a lot of questions, like why davey still has his family and why davey wasn't outcasted and why davey, who SHOULD be at the top of the hierarchy, has to be a newsie to support his family.

OKAY THIS IS TOO LONG BUT BASICALLY: CANON ERA, FOLLOWS THE STRIKE AND ALL OF THE EVENTS AFTERWARD

please send asks if u guys like this ahhh!!!

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

       * Warnings: Angst, violence, SMUT/ threesome mmf/ fingering/ oral (m/f, f/f), assault, PTSD, Very Dark Thoughts

      * Summary: Negotiation, implementation, consternation, consequences

      * Word Count: ~2500k

PART FOURTEEN

    You tread your new dynamic with care and consideration. Ezra asked you, again and again, if you were sure. He knew people got jealous, no matter how open they may seem to experimentation at the outset. Ezra has been around, of that he’s made no qualms of reminding you. He’d seen arrangements blown up in both the heat of passion and in the dry planning stages. He professed to you in a million different ways that he would sooner lose a limb than jeopardize your partnership.

    “If this is to have even a whisper of eventual occurrence, Dovie, the channels of communication must remain patent and our exchanges honest. There must be not one shred of doubt and uncertainty. I have seen the strongest of unions crumble to dust through the mismanaged impropriety of baser desires.”

    His eyes were warm, yet somber. The uptick at the corner of his mouth belied the serious set of his features. You knew he had concerns. His hands grasped yours, your knees canted toward one another as you sat on your couch.

    You trusted him implicitly. You had never been in a situation such as the hypothetical you were now navigating. Your past dalliances had not lacked variety, however they had not been frequent. Indeed, before Ezra you had been without physical intimacy for well over two years. 

    From the beginning, you had discussed ground rules. Ezra relayed and reinforced to you, during each careful conversation, that you must be in agreement with one another for every step of this new equation. 

    “I will ask you ad nauseum for your explicit consent in all doings, Dove,” his hand caught your wrist and stroked a broad thumb over your pulse point. “We must ask the same of whomever we entwine ourselves with. It truly is the crux of all pleasure, of the give and take of Eros. To know that what all parties deign to both imbibe and impart is agreed upon and accepted.”

    “I understand, Ez.”

    Perhaps at least as important as the concept of consent to Ezra was the unity with which you were to approach any and all potential arrangements. 

    “There must be no part of this endeavor in which we are not together,” his voice was calm and even, filled with soft affection as he rubbed your fingers between his palms. His eyes enveloped you, drawing your own gaze into deep and hypnotic pools. “I will do nothing, my gaze will not linger on another without you beside me. I will ask the same of you. Nothing is to transpire without each of our individual presences within one another’s orbit.”

    You both further discussed your terms over the course of the next several days. Ezra wanted your absolute certainty; the faintest doubt in your mind must be immediately and honestly expressed the moment it arose. You discussed your limits, safe words. Your frank conversation often left you both inflamed, tearing at clothing and gasping into each other’s hungry mouths as he impaled you on his cock, whispering a continuance of your plans that left you groaning and grunting like a desperate animal against any surface he’d seen fit to take you against. 

    You had initially brought up the idea of another couple; Ezra had immediately vetoed. He explained that the dynamics would be too touchy, perhaps volatile. Involving another couple may lend complications to what could be construed as an already precarious adventure. 

    “Not for the first time, Dove. Men in love, even in lust often house a primal directive to possess and claim. I will not place you or any other in such a position, at least for our first time.”

    It did not matter to Ezra whether your first partner was male, female or elsewhere on the gender continuum; he relayed he’d had pleasurable encounters with all persuasions. He left it up to you.

    After some careful consideration you’d settled on engaging with a female for your first time. You loved Ezra more than the moon and stars, but there was something about the curves and soft, pillowy flesh of a willing and open woman that brought heat to your chest and caused a buzzing in your brain that left your blood rushing in your ears and your mouth dry.

    He’d flashed his Cheshire smile at your declaration and enveloped you in a crushing embrace, whispering devotionals against the crook of your neck.

 ******

     The girl you’d found was tall, nearly Ezra’s height. She wore a sequined dress that glittered like a garnet against the light of the soft Edison bulbs on your end tables. Her laugh was musical, it reminded you of wind chimes made of hollow bone. She laughed often; this was what had drawn you to her.

    She’d been leaning back on the bar of the club you’d spent weeks visiting. It was a small, intimate location festooned with antique rococo furniture draped in tapestries of purple and scarlet. You’d taken your time, easing into the sophisticated atmosphere, acquainting yourselves with staff and regular patrons. The rhythm of the location was languid, sensuous. You could almost picture nude, rubenesque concubines reclining against the velvet couches while old-world Jazz plucked tinkling notes in the incensed air. It was perfect, and the intimate setting was ripe for measuring the potential of the various patrons who walked through its doors.

    So, it was the joyous, full-bodied laughter that had drawn you to her. Ezra let you take the lead, staying back to watch you. You ingratiated yourself to her easily, offering her a drink that she gladly accepted. As you both made your way to the ornate couch upon which Ezra perched, you noted him watching intently, lids hooded, finger idly stroking the lip of the glass in his hand. His eyes were tide pools, drawing you to him, hypnotizing.

    Predatory.

    And so the girl, named Andra, sat betwixt you as you began your dance. You flirted shamelessly, throwing your head back, leaning forward to give her a glimpse of what was underneath. You noticed her gaze linger there, and felt your adrenaline spike. You took a chance and brushed the knuckles of one hand against the side of her knee as you reached for your drink. The knee moved to press against yours.

    Ezra was much quieter than usual, allowing you to steer the conversation. He’d chime in occasionally, but for the most part his gaze lingered on your animated face. His eyes smoldered, his arm extended down the length of the back of the couch.

    At one point you stood, excusing yourself to the restroom. Andra excused herself as well. You entered the unisex fresher and before you had time to react Andra had you pressed against a stall door, her hands in your hair, her tongue curling into your startled gasp. You froze only momentarily before returning her kiss, framing her own soft face with your hands.

    Your lips tangled for endless moments before you came back to yourself, forcing a break as you reluctantly pulled away. You both panted in silence, chests rising and falling in rapid succession, before Andra spoke.

    “I like you.” her smile was small, shy. The brazenness had melted away with interruption of affection.

    You huffed out a laugh.

    “I like you too,” you paused, considering. “Do you like him as well?”

    Her soft chuckle was an echo of yours.

    “He’s very handsome.”

    “I agree.” You grasped her hand in yours, meeting her gaze. Your eyes became serious, your words measured like sordid currency.

    “Would you like to come home with us, Andra?”

    She would be delighted to, she replied. She really never did things like this, she said. She kept mostly to herself, but she had just received word that she had been approved for a loan to open a private art gallery. She felt like celebrating.

    “She feels like celebrating, Ezra,” you quipped when you returned. He immediately stood, nodded once, paid the tab. He pulled you aside briefly before you left to walk home.

    “Sweet girl, I cannot help but notice your lips are swollen, almost as if from some form of vigorous contact…” he whispered, his expression unreadable.

    You shrugged. “She kissed me in the bathroom. It took me by surprise.”

    His gaze darkened, lips set in a grim line. Your heart jumped into your throat.

    “Always together, remember? Rule one.”

    You found it difficult to meet his eyes when they burned into you like hot ash.

    “I’m...sorry, Ezra. It won’t happen again. I lost myself.”

    “It’s okay to lose yourself, Dovie, just don’t jeopardize the trust we’ve agreed upon so ardently.” his hand grasped your chin, tilting your face to his as his lips ghosted over yours.

    “I love you so fucking much.”

 ******

     “Look what you’re doing to our lovely conquest, Dove,” Ezra cooed, his chest slicked with sweat, one hand slowly pumping up and down his engorged cock. He knelt behind you, fingers in your quivering cunt as you lapped at Andra spread out and eager while your mouth worked her. You flattened your tongue and alternated long, slow licks with wrapping your lips around her hard little bud. Andra was keening, sobbing, canting her hips up toward you as you desperately worked to take in the flood of slick that poured out of her.

    You thrust your hips back forcefully as you came up for air. Your mouth and chin was drenched in her come, it was intoxicating and made you feel feral. You were working toward your third orgasm of the night, having already come twice just from the friction of your grinding clit on the surface of the blanket beneath you. Ezra leaned forward to capture your mouth, moaning at the taste of your eager lover.

    “See how she falls apart so easily for you, legs quivering uncontrollably? She’s soaking the sheets beneath her. She cannot begin to keep those gorgeous noises from spilling, much like the slick from her twitching hole..”

    You cried out, lost in the feeling of being tugged so deliciously both forward and backward between warring sensations. 

    You felt the blunt head of Ezra’s cock at your trembling entrance, and you pushed back one again, desperate for him to fill you as the head of his cock nudged against your clit, then notched at your tight, soaked entrance.

    You groaned loudly into the weeping slit before you as he sheathed himself inside of you and when his hips finally made contact with the backs of your legs, you bucked against him.

    “Fuck, Ezra,” you sobbed. “So fucking good oh my fucking gods….”

    He remained still as you fucked yourself back onto his turgid length once, twice, three times and then the wire pulled tight within you was snapped again, your arms trembling violently before you collapsed forward, gasping and screaming into the soaked blankets beneath you. Andra scrambled up the mattress and shuffled back to where you were connected. You felt her hands on your hitching ass as you spasmed uncontrollably around Ezra’s hard, slick cock.

    Ezra was moaning as he went deeper, grinding his hips up and down against your spasming cunt as your come flooded out around where he speared into you.

    “Ooooooooh yes, oh yes beautiful girl, let it out for me, soak this fucking cock, you feel so fucking good, you get so fucking tight when you come on my dick like this..”

    As you came down from your high, your hips dropped and you lay almost motionless except for the aftershocks that coursed through you.

    You heard Ezra moan again and turned with dazed interest to glance over your shoulder, where you observed Andra taking Ezra’s cock down her throat. She bobbed on it, taking down an impressive amount of his length as her hand massaged his balls. 

    Ezra’s expression was one of concentration, his eyes squeezed shut, mouth hanging open as he gasped as he was drawn, again and again, into her mouth.

    You watched the scene in front of you, and it occurred to you that there was a complete stranger giving Ezra pleasure, that it was someone other than you. You felt confused. Why did it feel like this so suddenly, when only moments before you’d enthusiastically had your entire mouth on her clit, your tongue inside of her?

    It didn’t bother you then, so why now?

    The longer you lay there, the more discomfort you felt. You didn’t like it. Wordlessly, you extricated yourself from the bed and silently donned your silk robe. You stood at the foot of the bed and observed what was happening before you, your skin growing tighter and tighter the longer you stared.

    What is wrong with me? This is okay, it was what you’d agreed upon.

    The longer you tried to deny it, the stronger the waves of deep, red tumult built and crashed around your foggy mind.

    “....Dove?” a hesitant question, unsure. Ezra had stilled, almost frozen on the bed. His eyes were dilated, blown black, but there was a very specific brand of concern etching his features. Andra watched you warily, as if suddenly aware that she’d waded into some unspoken, uncertain territory. You watched her begin to back off the bed slowly, as if distancing herself from an apex predator.

    You felt storms building; you struggled to steady your breath, chest heaving. You felt control slip from your tenuous grasp.

    You felt rage.

    Ezra had talked about the dark force of possession, of needing to own and claim among men in such arrangements as this.

    You realized this applied to women just as well.

    Ezra was yours, this woman had him in her mouth, your cock was inside of her, this strange woman you’d just met who dared to give him pleasure while you were RIGHT. THERE.

    Your mind was blank, your perception of movement coming to you like frames in an old slide projector.

    Click.

    You stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and expression blank.

    Click.

    You vaguely saw Ezra move from the bed and grab his pants. He was confused, eerily silent.

    Click.

    You had just a moment to process the sudden look of shock and panic that crossed Andra’s face as your hands wrapped around her neck.

    There was shouting, Andra’s face was red, turning purple, her hands scrabbling desperately to break the vice-like grip of your fingers pressing into her throat, her eyes bulging. Her heartbeat was a fluttering bird beneath you, a pitiful animal caught in a snare.

    Larger hands were grabbing at you, the shouting continued. You could not make out the words, so hypnotized were you by the sight of panicked, waning consciousness before you.

    You were flung backward, your hands pried roughly off of yielding flesh, your grip faltering.

    Your back hit the wall. Ezra was staring at you with wide eyes. He looked terrified.

    Andra was just to the left of numb terror, gasping and sobbing the breath back into her burning lungs.

    You looked down at your hands, clenched and shaking. Your whole body shaking.

    You were a monster.

    You turned, stumbling desperately through the doorway and into the hall.

    You pulled the robe tight around you and rushed out, out of everything, attempting to leave yourself behind.

    Running.

Tags:     @ifimayhaveaword, @rzrcrst, @absurdthirst, @cinewhore, @hopelikethesun, @yespolkadotkitty, @sin-djarin, @lackofhonor, @din-damn-djarin, @mrpascals, @theocatkov, @thefineandnobleartofavoidance, @hellojustheretolookatmeemees, @cyaredindjarin, @im-like-reallythirsty, @mstgsmy, @goldafterglow, @givemethatgold, @shaqbutt, @sirianisrock, @artemiseamoon, @thatreclusewriter, @scribbledghost, @f0rever15elf, @opheliaelysia, @qveenbvtch, @hdlynn, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa, @spacegayofficial, @ezraslittlebirdie, @ezrasarm, @ezraslittleblondestreak, @tintinwrites, @kindablackenedsuperhero, @darthadeline, @alexisinorbit, @knittingqueen13, @lueurnotes, @xakilicious, @keeper0fthestars, @huliabitch, @di-kut, @zombieaurora, @corrupt-fvcker, @cryptkeepersoul, @teaofpeach, @thestreamergirl, @frannyzooey, @mndalorians, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @heatherbel, @the-feckless-wonder, @millllenniawrites, @revolution-starter, @melon-eyes, @kiwi-the-first

[dailyrov]

Well, life’s been stressful, et cetera and so on. Welcome to 2021, which will hopefully be better than 2020, but boy-oh-boy is the bar low.

I was minding my own business today when some kind person dropped a comment on one of my ‘fics (If It Takes a Lifetime). I replied to them and then read through my other replies, relived the story a bit...you know, Something Fanfic Authors Do. I was reminded of something I wanted to post here for a while, but struggled to put into concise wording: my relationship to the series.

My first foray into The Rose of Versailles was in 2008, all thanks to a certain @kippielovesyou who baited me into watching the anime because she claimed the main couple had some things in common with a pairing I was super into at the time. I got hooked. I marathoned the anime and went to work after episode 39 without having gotten any sleep at all. Shift start was at 6:30am. The assembly line started moving. One of my coworkers nudged me. “Hey,” they said. “Did something bad happen? You look miserable.”

I wasn’t miserable so much as emotionally drained. “Just tired,” I said, and focused on my work for the next 8.5 hours. I wasn’t about to tell them that my favorite characters in a television show just died. 

I went home and watched the 40th episode. I felt weird afterward. Still drained. Almost...empty.

Not angry. Not betrayed. Just...this really strange sort of blankness that I had rarely felt upon reaching the ending of anything. I recalled a similar feeling at the end of the 1989 film Glory, but no other piece of media could come close to touching it. I would almost call it peace, though the unsettling kind. I’m not supposed to feel peaceful about a tragic ending, right?

But I was hooked. 

I downloaded the entire series on a torrent, something I hadn’t done before OR SINCE. I burned it to discs and mailed them to Wisconsin so that my oldest internet friend (now husband) could watch it. He cried at the end. I forced my sister to sit down with me to watch the whole thing. She cried, too. I wrote fanfiction. I drew fanart (it was bad, don’t @ me). I screamed about it to countless friends on Livejournal. I recommended the series to everyone I knew and a lot of those people joined me in writing fanfiction.

What a time to be in fandom!! We flooded the fandom with regular English fanfic for the first time ever. The fandom was hopping. I met two amazing women (Kasia and Loulou) who spoiled me rotten for fanfiction reviews for the rest of my life. I bought the French manga and read the entire thing. I fell in love with one specific page (you get one guess as to which that is lol). I distinctly remember crying twice while reading the manga in a language I could only stumble through: first when Andre tried to count the stairs in the house, miscounted, and tripped, and secondly when Oscar threw herself onto her mother’s lap crying that she was a human being with feelings.

I still get emotional thinking about these scenes, particularly the latter one. The Rose of Versailles got me through so much. I honestly don’t know where I would be, or who I would be, without it. There is no way Kippie could have known that I would need RoV. For her, it was as simple as, “I enjoyed it, and I think you would, too. Because shipping.” And yeah, I’m a shipper who did enjoy it for that, but it became SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT TO ME.

I don’t want to spit the whole long tale out here, but shortly after I obsessed over RoV, I had my own identity crisis. It was a tough time for me, but it also cemented my future as an essayist who focuses primarily on the literary device known as Identity. When I went to college in 2012 that was my focus in literature, and nearly every essay I wrote I chose to explore it in some fashion. Identity. What makes a character, what shapes them, what changes or moves or motivates them. RoV motivated that love for Identity and my essays motivated the English Department chair to give me a selective scholarship (that they chose, it was never applied for). The reasoning they cited to me was that I had shown a rare passion for literature and the characters within. For the first time in my life I felt validated in my obsession with Identity.

I was in my early 20s when I first saw The Rose of Versailles, and something about the character of Oscar spoke to me, but I couldn’t quite name it. I felt that I understood her, and not just for being a woman working in a man’s field. There was something else. But what? I couldn’t figure it out. 

A few years later I started seeing an uptick in romantic and sexual identities online. Demisexual. Asexual. Aromantic. Greyace. Something clicked—for me, personally, as well as my understanding of the characters. And years later, Tumblr flooded with information about ADHD presenting in women, and autism in ladies. And my brain went, OH!!!! OH!!! OH I SEE!!

I know a lot of people love Oscar for their own reason, and I think that’s probably one of my favorite things about the series: that the main character is almost universally loved by everyone, and that she receives this love no matter how the individual fans choose to view her.

Something specifically that bothered me many years ago was a certain persistent disdain for Oscar not returning André’s feelings earlier. She was blind, she was stupid, she was mean, and the worst of all: she was Bad for these reasons.

My God, when I tell you now that the scene of Oscar falling onto her mother’s lap in tears over being treated like a doll made me cry, I know why. I spent years of my life wondering why I was born the way I was. I agonized over it. I didn’t want to be “normal.” I was happy being me. But nobody else was. My sister once accused me of not having feelings. I think of that moment every time I see Oscar struggling in RoV. She’s a private person who struggles privately, but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel things. And there Oscar was in the manga, having lived her life the best way she knew how, only to have her father pull the rug out from under her without deigning to even explain himself to her. Suddenly, she was not allowed to have an identity of her own. Suddenly, she was not good enough as she was.

Do you know what marriage would do to someone like Oscar, particularly at that point in her life? It would kill her. How terrifying a fate to face, no control over her own life, or feelings, or even her own body.

There’s an important scene in the manga and anime where André considers that Oscar appears “as cold as ice” to others, but personally recognizes the fire of her passionate heart and finds that endearing about her... I always felt that he liked that about her because it was a side of her only he understood, only he recognized for what it was. Like she trusted that part of her in his presence and knowing this helped that love grow. I still think that’s true.

But beyond that, I think André is on the ace spectrum himself, and understands better than anyone how Oscar’s feelings work. (There’s so much more to it than that, but I’ll leave it there for now...)

The part of the fandom that felt Oscar was selfish or uncaring for not loving André back sooner...miss the point, I think, of her character, and of the romance of the series. It’s not that Oscar is unfeeling. It’s not that she can’t love André. It’s not even that she’s choosing not to love him. In my opinion, it’s that she’s ace and the way she shows her love and care is not only different than a person might expect it to be, but also difficult to express—though whether this is due to her upbringing or her romantic identity (or both!) is up to interpretation.

More importantly, she does not owe him herself.

(And, I think beyond all this, usually people who feel this way really adore André, and while that’s great, I think they’re ignoring a key component of his character, which is: he loves Oscar and never even once so much as suggests that she owes him anything.)

Anyway, that was a long post to say: I view Oscar as ace and ADHD and I wish I could go back to 2008 me and tell myself about both of these things, because it would have saved me a lot of worry and heartache all those years ago. But it’s okay, anyway, because I still felt that connection to Oscar, even without the specific words, and I knew André loved Oscar anyway, even though he knew she was different.

If you’re reading this now, in 2021 or later, I hope you’ve been able to find a similar connection to one or several of the RoV characters. It’s not often we get to see slices of ourselves in the media, written in a sympathetic and loving way. Having that made all the difference to me when I needed it the most. ♥ And I hope it’s had a positive impact on your life, too.

[lilacerull0]

LITTLE WOMEN FANFICTION

CHAPTER 2, PART 1: INVISIBLE STRING

Horizons and Sunsets

 

"Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs"

- invisible string, Taylor Swift

Concord, Massachusetts, 1868

 

Rays of sunshine playing on her skin. Soft grass under her fingers. Little specks of dirt scattered across her face. Leaves tangled up in her hair. It's not a common happening to be able to see yourself in such a way. A way that makes it seem like you are not you, but somebody else wearing somebody else's clothes, guarding somebody else's heart, owning somebody else's thoughts. Like you are only an observer, a background noise in your own life. These descriptions are usually used in unpleasant connotations, usually as metaphors, usually as another way of saying you feel transparent, forgotten and small. But in Jo's case, the phenomenon is not even a tiny bit metaphorical. Maybe it's the impact of the books. Maybe it's her imagination. Maybe it's just her. Whatever it is, Jo has always been able to see her life as a theatre piece, herself an audience member, her past self, no matter how far back she might travel to reach a certain memory, a performer.  And Jo craves those moments of remembrance. She craves the feeling of transparency. She craves to exist less.

 

Everything she remembers, she remembers in flashes. Her memories do not understand concepts such as "chronology" or "order". Her brain resembles an unsolved puzzle. Every piece of information she has makes sense. But when to be put together with another aspect of her being, it does not fit. Nothing about her ever seems to fit. And now, she doesn't fit within herself.

 

No, Jo March is not a puzzle. Puzzle, no matter how difficult and complex, can be put together.

 

She's a living breathing contradiction.

What else to describe the utter ridiculousness of her mind? She is not happy and she is not sad. One second she is completely content with her life, the other, she is not. She wants to receive love, love and love, but she is afraid to offer it.

 

When Josephine March loves someone, she does not tell them. She does show, but never tells. She never uses the famous simple phrase. Never not once.

 

Her best friend burns for the people he loves. Jo burns for them in secret.

 

And here, as she is seeing herself splattered in sunlight, Jo March is preoccupied with three actions of extraordinary importance.

 

One is chasing ghosts.

Other is rearranging thoughts,

Final is accepting sunsets.

 

***

 

Paris, France, 1868

Theodore (yes, he is "Theodore" now) is not exactly sure where he is or how did he get there. His vision is blurry and his body feels heavier than usual. What is fascinating about his situation is the fact that consuming certain "substances", (and substances being of alcoholic nature), were supposed to prevail him from feeling like this. From feeling the way he's been feeling his entire life. Like everything around him was frozen and he was the only one moving. He was just too fast, too warm, too different. Enormous in emotion, reckless in thought. All of this often led to conclusions too horrific to comprehend, so he tried to avoid thinking.

The thought of having too many emotions might be terrifying. But the thought of having too much love for everything and everyone but himself was rather paralyzing. It was ridiculous to expect anybody to feel with as much passion as he did. It was ridiculous to demand such a thing from people. Why would anyone put all of their energy into someone else when there were so many things to be done in the world? But those other things rarely sparked an interest in him. Adventures, boarding schools, trips and experiences seemed irrelevant and hollow unless they were intended to be shared. It's funny how he always craved the one thing he never had. And when he finally got a glance of the love he so desperately wanted, he lost it because of his stupid absurd annoying emotions.

When Theodore Laurence loves someone he does not tell them. He screams it until his lungs are on fire.

 

His best friend loves with her whole entire heart. He loves with his whole entire being.

 

And now, vision blurry and body heavy, Theodore Laurence finds himself preoccupied with three actions of extraordinary importance.

 

One is chasing ghosts.

Other is rearranging thoughts,

Final is accepting sunsets.

 

***

Concord, Massachusetts, 1862

 

Step one: chasing ghosts

Sand beneath her bare feet. Water. Silent whispers of the sea. Birds. Colors. Nothing. Everything. Oh, to be crafted in such a way to believe you shall always be sixteen and silly and reckless and real. That is how Jo feels right now. Real. Right here, observing, enjoying, doing nothing but existing. And the sea! So mystical and wide, appearing endless in its presence, it looks like something in possession of a dream rather than this time and place. And the best part of this? Her family. They all resemble a painting in their natural messiness. Amy with her hair half wet, positioned in a way she believes to be ladylike, smiling at the horizon, sketchbook in hand. Meg, holding her hat so that it doesn't leave her in its desperate wish to follow the wind, shoes untied, eyes glistening from laughter she experienced seconds before. Beth, oh sweet Beth, kneeling by the water, touching the shining surface, mouth moving as though she is singing to the sea itself. Teddy is by her side, like he always is, sitting with his eyes closed, head held high up to the sky. He would probably refer to his current position as a way to "suck out all the marrow out of life", which always sounded a bit inappropriate coming from his mouth, but Jo loved the symbolism of the phrase, so she decided to put her friend's foolishness to the side.

 

"Isn't it simply ethereal, dearest Teddy?"

 

"Yes, I did indeed think my face had a particular glow to it this morning, your kind remark is very well appreciated, Miss March" came a teasing response shortly followed by a light smack to the arm (because Jo, being an experienced bookworm, always had a book weapon down her sleeve).

 

"Oh Teddy, you're such a boy sometimes. I find it quite disappointing really." said Jo being perfectly aware of the effect the comment might cause. Teddy shot her a look of a supposedly hurt individual, put a hand over his heart and exhaled loudly, as though he was a character in a Shakespearean tragedy. Jo rolled her eyes at the glamorous gesture, but pretty quickly, her features were changed with a thoughtful expression. She turned her head to Teddy timelines after, only to be greeted with a no longer playful, but a reassuring smile. He knew her too well.

 

"You know, it doesn't make it any less beautiful. The fact that it's all going to end one day, I mean. Quite the opposite actually."

 

She does not answer that. She gets up from the ground and extends her hand to him.

 

"If it's going to end, we might as well suck all of the existing marrow out of it."

 

"Oh, what a wonderful choice of words, dearest Jo!" he exclaims theatrically while gladly accepting her hand

 

"Oh, what a wonderful life, dearest Teddy."

 

And with that, they run to the sea, their lungs almost too full, smiles almost too big. Spirits almost too free.

 

 

Childhood is a thing of dreams.

 

 

Concord, Massachusetts, 1863

 

Step two: rearranging thoughts

 

Trousers under skirts. It's scandalous. Scandalous and inappropriate. At least that's what society will label it as. And society loves labels. But Laurie finds a solace of sorts in his friend's choice of clothes. He isn't sure how to explain it (he is not as good with words as Jo is), but it's comforting to see someone be so unapologetically themselves, whoever that person might be. He tells her this one day because he's Laurie and he isn't familiar with the concept of "silencing your emotions".

 

"Teddy, don't flatter, I told you I do not enjoy nor support such doings. You might as well go practice your gentlemanly manners on Amy, I'm sure she will accept your words of so called admiration with much more enthusiasm than yours truly." says Jo, her voice a tiny bit too loud, her thoughts meeting the outside world in grave speed. Laurie often finds himself wondering how one speaks with so much passion and rush, it's like Jo's sentences are running instead of flowing. She shares her mind without looking at him, her hands busy with rearranging the dining table previously covered with Amy's unfinished drawings and Beth's beloved dolls.

 

"I meant what I said, Jo. But since you believe I'm incapable of offering sincerity, I shall escort myself out."

 

He gets up from the place he was sitting at and rushes out of the March house, leaving his waistcoat behind him. Jo knows better than to follow him right away. She will bring him the forgotten object later, once he's ready to start unravelling burdens.

 

 

***

 

Night.

 

Light.

 

 

These two nouns aren't supposed to get along very well, yet here we are. Jo finds herself awake in the middle of the night, which circumstance she is no stranger to, but this time it is not her restless mind that steals her from the arms of dreamland. It's light. Jo gets up, careful not to make a noise, and looks out the window to further investigate the strange occurring. And the sight her eyes are met with is a sight so undoubtedly Teddy-like that she isn't sure if she will be able to forgive herself for not coming up with such a conclusion sooner. The house of her neighbour, who happens to be her dearest friend, is shining with what she presumes is light of about two dozen candles. The scene would've been inspiring, if not captivating, especially for a person of her making, but Jo knows Teddy and this cannot mean anything pleasant. Therefore, she decides to pay her fellow pirate a visit, armed with a forgotten piece of clothing as a faithful enough excuse.

 

Proud of herself for avoiding all the obstacles successfully (and the obstacles being sleeping family members who have yet to be introduced to the pleasures such as "sleepless nights" or "windows"), Jo runs to the construction once known as a house, now as a gothic castle and knocks. Her efforts are answered with a voice of not a person, but a peculiarly human like ghost.

 

"Who is it?"

 

"Do you really think I will dare share information of an importance so big, oh so grand, without seeing your face, kind sir?" says not Jo, but a righteous, noble knight, his devotion as admirable as amusing.

 

Laurie opens the door only to be met with a grinning Jo.

 

"I believe you have forgotten this, my friend."

exclaims an unlike lady, kneels down and offers him his waistcoat in a way so grandiose, some might think she actually was a knight in shining armor, sharing sunlight, providing hope.

 

"Don't be a goose Jo" came a gentlemanly response followed by an annoyed sound and indifferent expression. Laurie turns around, but leaves the door wide open. Jo, understanding the message quite well, follows him inside to a candle lit room. Laurie approaches the piano and sits down as though he is about to start playing the instrument, but he doesn't confirm the logical assumption. Instead, he closes his eyes and remains like that for what feels like eternity, looking like a human statue. It would've been comical if it were anybody else, but Jo was familiar with Teddy's passion for extravagance. His behaviour does not spark laughter, but concern.

 

"Teddy, I think you should start explaining whatever it is you need to explain. Keeping it in won't do anybody any good despite you believing it will. I promise, you won't be a burden."

 

Laurie shifts in his position and exhales loudly, his eyes still closed. When he starts to speak, his voice is not his. It's distant and decorated with occasional trembles which he is desperately trying to avoid.

"When I told you today how I find solace in the way you carry yourself and how you wear trousers and don't care about what people think of you, I wasn't trying to mess around or anything. Sometimes... Sometimes I feel like I am not me... Like I'm not a good match for myself and I..." he opens his eyes at that, not sure if he wants to receive a response to any of the things he has just said.

 

"I am deeply sorry Jo, this doesn't make any sense, you can go, I don't know what came of me."

 

"Oh Teddy, but it does make sense! It makes so, so much sense." Jo doesn't say that like she wants to comfort him. She really seems to mean it. Their gazes meet at the exact same time, their eyes glossy (which observation they will both dismiss in immense respect to one another), their faces now beautified with soft smiles.

 

"You do realize you are wearing a night gown right?"

 

"I am not the one randomly lighting up candles, impersonating ghosts now, am I?"

"It's called dramatic effect, Jo! Dramatic effect! And keep the waistcoat, I never really liked it anyways."

***

After that day, Jo and Laurie's closets were left grieving for lost members of their separate societies. Blouses, neckties and waistcoats were introduced to the idea of travel and adventure. And even though the closets were left in grief, their owners were more than satisfied with the not so sudden change.

[ourladylennon]

1/2) About Fraser, a couple of quotes that caught my eye:

"Robert represented to me freedom, freedom of speech, of view"

"The most formative influence for me was Robert Fraser. Obviously the other Beatles were very important but the most formative art influence was Robert. I expect people to die so I don’t feel a loss but there’s a vacuum where he used to be"

"The way Robert lived, which became the way I lived for a couple of years and which I now figure for a rather aristocratic way of life, would be that he’d ring early in the day and say, ‘What are we doing for dinner tonight?’

'Once I got to know Robert, a nice thing would be going to the gallery and helping install an exhibition. Just sit around and smoke a bit of pot while somebody else was installing the exhibition. Helping. Play a little music for him.’ 

"There were many good times in Robert’s flat. Through my Beatle connections I’d hire a 16mm projector for the evening […] and I started off with Wizard of Oz. Robert got into this, wow, and he’d get some art movies. We got a lot of Bruce Connors, showed a lot of that. It was a very exciting period."

The boy sounded smitten, didn't he? Maybe nothing physical happened, (Robert was allegedly into darker men) but it looks like Paul liked the idea of being "romanced" by this handsome and sophisticated guy. There was an undertone of cozy, easy intimacy between them. You can tell by the way Bob would call to plan what they'd do for dinner. How Paul would sit there playing music for his eyes only while someone else was installing the exhibition. It speaks volumes that someone as image oriented as Paul went to Paris with an openly gay man without caring what others would say. It suggests a deep connection. The story about their "netflix and chill" encounters in Robert's flat is so suggestive as well. Paul could've been anywhere and yet there he was watching Wizard of Oz with this dude. I'd say those encounters were not about Paul's love of cinema. He just wanted to be around Bob. They most likely drank, did drugs and in my opinion, fooled around a bit, for the fun of it. It sounds like a fantastic way to spend the time, 10/10 recommended.

Paul also had a strong relationship with Tara for the short time they knew each other. The fact he did LSD with him before the other Beatles implies a lot of trust. Tara was very responsible and sweet in that occasion, staying sober to look after Paul in case he had a bad trip. I loved that about him. He was really concerned about keeping Paul safe and giving him a good time. They always hung out when they had the chance and John really disliked the guy. Then there is Tara's Christmas trip to Liverpool. I'm aware he knew Paul's brother Mike first and they were friendly but there was such an air of "meet the parents" about this situation. I'm not entirely convinced they were physical but I could sense a romantic crush. Tara was married but as a beautiful society swan in the Rolling Stones' circle, I think he was quite open to experimentation.

part 2 and my answer below read line :)

2/2) Again, I would never call Paul bisexual but I do think he was more attracted to men in a romantic/platonical sense than people realize. He enjoyed immensely the attention and the company of some guys. He would open up emotionally with them, learn their craft and incorporate their habits in a way he rarely did with his women, not even Linda. It looks like Paul wouldn't unlock certain corners of his mind unless a man he was drawn to gave him that permission. This is probably why he associated Fraser with freedom.

John was the most important of all because in a way, Paul would've never discovered and accepted himself without him. He used to kill frogs and engage in unruly behavior as a child to repress that soft, romantic persona he would become so famous for. Meeting a charismatic, brilliant boy who appreciated that vulnerable side of him must've been exhilarating. As they became a songwriting team, they both started seeing creation as sex, a view they'd carry for the rest of their lives. It's telling that once Paul lost John permanently, he went looking for the next man to fall in love with. But not even Elvis Costello, Stevie Wonder or Michael Jackson were enough to fill that gap.

Which convinces me of the eroticism of his relationship with John. It was the one connection he didn't have with all the others (with the possible exception of Fraser) and this is why the collaborations would often end up somewhat unfulfilled. He might've loved them intellectually but the erotic element wasn't there and it made a difference in the results.

About McLennon, few people dispute they were in love with each other these days. But what are the odds that two people who felt so strongly about each other and had plenty of chances to consummate their feelings in a physical way not doing it? They would crash and burn within six months. It's all speculation because Paul won't tell us but I don't think it's that much of a radical idea. I think a lot of stuff will come out once Yoko passes away and Paul faces his own mortality.

P.S: juicy bit about Heather, I'm bummed that we don't get enough info about this period because of that divorce NDA.

//

Anon, you are a well-researched individual and I’m impressed. This was the first thing I read this morning it was like a morning newspaper lol, thanks.

I entirely see what you mean about intimate undertones. "Cozy” seems like a good word to describe the general feel. I *tried* reading up some more on their relationship and I get a sense that Paul in general had a great admiration for Robert and your right- has that element of creation which is so essential to Paul’s being and probably his attraction. Robert seems to have given him a different side of creating than John did: art. That clearly created a bond for them and had some impact. Like with the movies and projectors, yeah cool and all, but “an exciting period” goes a bit deeper than that for sure. He clearly learned a lot from him about art, but whose to say about what else? The way Paul talks seems like he really admired, respected and trusted the man at the very least (I am even reading this quote that seems to imply Paul and Robert did hallucinogenic drugs together unless I’m misreading? That’d be a big leap of trust just like with Tara which still boggles me).

It’s not too big of a stretch to think Paul did enjoy being romanced, in exactly the way you put it, by some guy who was “handsome and sophisticated” who he found to be interesting, different, above average, with a new exciting form of expression. And not romanced in the obvious sense; more so unassuming things like having an intimate understanding of art with one another, who felt his equal in terms of that area of art, who was putting in the effort of engaging with him, showing him something others hadn’t, being so willing to share with Paul and to open his mind. You can definitely be romanced in friendships too though so I’m not saying this is exclusively any one thing in particular, though I myself do sense an undercurrent of more-than-standard interest after reading some more. In a nutshell, pretty much what you said:

I do think he was more attracted to men in a romantic/platonical sense than people realize. He enjoyed immensely the attention and the company of some guys. He would open up emotionally with them, learn their craft and incorporate their habits in a way he rarely did with his women

I still don’t think he would ever connect the dots of what that meant or what it could mean. I think to him, it just was what it was.

With John specifically, yeah there’s just no question for me. To me, they are every bit of the lore and legend of what soul mates are made of. Fire & passion on all levels. No disrespect to any of their longterm relationships outside of each other, because they clearly had deep feelings for their other partners, but I sincerely don’t think it that it connected on every level like it did with John/Paul. But of course, I still fall on the side of thinking nothing sexual ever happened (for more reasons than one I could see why they wouldn’t have fooled around imo). With 67/68 being that turning point where they *did* crash and burn because perhaps someone tried something- words or other- or perhaps nothing happened and that could have precisely been the cracking point.

I do find it interesting that Paul’s hanging around with Robert was right around this tumultuous period of John and Paul’s relationship...kind of makes you think doesn’t it? Like does this have any influence on what happened in India sort of thing; John seeing Paul being good, close friends with a gay man. Could it have stirred something up for John? Made him see a possibility where he hadn’t before? Interesting to think about and which I hadn’t thought about before....

I genuinely hope that Paul shares anything important with us before he passes. He doesn’t owe us anything, but my god would I die to know everything that happened between them and everything they felt. 

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Manga Chapter 134 Review: Twist

Sometimes, you just can’t give things a better title than the author.

Story

Let us lead in with some tasty, tasty salt.  Last chapter, there were a lot of readers going ‘nooooo, it’s not right! No way Genos can be that strong!’ and making up all sorts of confabulations to convince themselves so.  ONE’s like ‘You’re right. Genos is not that strong. He’s stronger.’   Last chapter, we thought that going blue dragon was the top secret, don’t use it on pain of death trump card that Genos brought.  Oh no, that was just his party piece, the one he’d brought to immolate the cadre from on high in style.  Now we got to see what that trump card actually was. 

One moment, Psykos-Orochi is targeting Tatsumaki with their ultimate attack.  The next moment, Genos is in front of her, opens himself up and launches a counter-attack so fast it’s like the beam’s frozen in place.  And instead of being pushed back, it starts to drill right through the monster’s attack. Tatsumaki stares a moment --  who wouldn’t? -- and then she turns to the business at hand, getting every one of the strike team out.  The joy on her face when she sees Fubuki safe and well, ah, that’s a fantastic gift!

Once they’re out,  Tatsumaki can now turn 100% of her attention to the monster.  And ho ho ho ho... but first, she catches Genos just as he starts to burn out and praises him.  Praise from Tatsumaki? That’s unheard of.  Then she drops him, because she is Queen Bitch Bastard after all and she has standards to uphold.

With a thought, Psykos-Orochi can no longer move.  And then Tatsumaki starts to twist them, miming wringing out a wet rag with her hands.  The monster, the battlefield, the whole entire damn city also start to twist!  It’s a real I-See-It-But-I-Don’t-Believe-It moment.   The roots that the monster has spread everywhere to drain people and any other life of their blood and empower it start fountaining vile geysers of blood.  It’s crazy just how much of the city Orochi had been consuming... when the casualties are counted, who’s going to be left alive?

Speaking about people, there’s drama happening everywhere else.  We see King gasping as he follows Tareo up the stairs of a very tall embankment -- only to have the embankment collapse and it turn into a set of down stairs.   I have a feeling that they’re not going to be able to leave the area in the end.

We see the various members of the strike team collect themselves and look round for each other.  Atomic’s face when he realises that Iaian isn’t among the disciples, Child Emperor when he calls out for Zombieman but only finds his transmitter, Darkshine a puddle of woe, heedless of what’s happening around him, all those are touching moments.

Further down below,  Saitama is frantically trying to save Flashy Flash, who is insisting that he be careful, even though he’s literally being crushed to death.  Ah, you have to love Flashy.   Saitama is in a very bad mood now: he’s realised that his house is likely to be one of the casualties of all this shaking. 

Saitama’s not having fun any more.  It’s not going to be good for any monster on top when he surfaces.

Meta

There is a lot of spectacle this chapter, but yes too, there is drama at so many levels.

“Drowning within sight of shore”

Drowning within sight of shore is one of the saddest terms I know of -- to be literally just a few feet away, a few strokes away from safety, and yet, despite everything, you can’t make it.  It’s a bit of a theme here on the battlefield.  It described Tatsumaki when she was taking on Psykos-Orochi on her own: she had just too many things to do any one thing well and it was costing her dear. She could do everything, but not everything at once.  It’d have described the strike team if Tatsumaki had been forced to focus on the monster to save herself.  So close and yet so far --  ah, man, what a few more seconds of burn time to drill clean through the monster wouldn’t have done for Genos.   What unifies all three cases is what saves one from drowning in sight of shore -- someone throwing you a lifeline.  Those lifelines, that’s what Genos and Tatsumaki threw each other, it’s what made watching them work together so amazing.

This is why no one ever treats his threats to kill someone as an empty bluff: Demon Cyborg does exactly as he says he will.  Shielding Tatsumaki so she could prioritise and focus, that’s exactly what he did.  Genos, please, learn to take compliments. From others not named Saitama. For yourself.

The wave of frustration that’s going to hit him in a few moments is going to be so intense. I have a bad feeling that he’s going to get up and keep fighting as it’s not over yet.

Seeds of future pain

Bothersome is that it looks like Orochi and Psykos are being ripped apart like two different flavours of chewing gum, partially chewed and spat out. Disgusting. It’s also going to be troublesome.

And of course, the cadre are still at large.  I now wonder how things are going to be now that all the heroes are up top first?  This is going to be very interesting!

The art

The detail in this chapter. Oh. My. God. The detail.  Listen, if you just flipped through the chapter for the people, you’re blind. You need a prescription.  Get your best screen and go back and really LOOK again.  Look at the exquisite detail and sense of scale that Murata has invested in every page, particularly the city, where he shows individual buildings, subdivisions, roads, wherever its called for so we’re always clear on what’s happening -- and who it’s costing dear.    Then look at how every panel also tells a human story, whether it’s losing homes, friends, colleagues, sense of self, the emotion of it is there.

One-Punch Man is truly a passion project for Murata.  These last few chapters aren’t just taking time because he’s redrawing other chapters.  They’re taking time because he wants to get the import of what’s happening right just that badly.  This story is a passion project.  That also happens to make a lot of money.  The best combination.  Stuff like this doesn’t hit too often in life, please, go appreciate it some more.