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alltooreid · 4 years ago

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Dancing With Our Hands Tied

In order to keep Y/N safe from danger, Spencer vows to keep their relationship a complete secret from everyone they know. However, as their romance gets more serious, Y/N and Reid begin to realize that no matter how in love they are, they may have been doomed from the start.

A/N: Back at it with a hopefully very angsty fic! This is of course inspired by the Taylor Swift song, but you don’t need to be familiar with the song to read and enjoy! Also I made a playlist for this one shot, which you can find here (its best if you listen to it in order and of course you don’t have to listen as you read, but if you enjoy that kind of thing, I thought it would be fun). Additionally, in order for the timeline of this fic to make the most sense, I’m choosing to ignore the Lauren Reynolds subplot, because trying to incorporate it and explain it would be distracting and unnecessary in my opinion. Thanks for reading!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Type: Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: Some cursing, general fighting angst, discussion of pregnancy, brief mention of abortion (follow up is left intentionally ambiguous, based on your own desires and beliefs you are allowed to decide where that aspect goes (pro choice tings))

“I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche?”

Spencer Reid hated funerals.

Somehow he felt he was always invited to one, and no matter how hard it was for him to be there, he always made every effort to go. So when Hotch had to plan Haley’s funeral, Spencer knew he had to go, no matter how much he would hate it.

He looked down to the grass as his supervisor cried over his now dead wife, the most emotion he had seen from him ever. He refused to look up and watch, although there were at least a hundred people there to mourn Haley, this moment felt innately private to Hotch. Spencer didn’t think it was his place for his eyes to intrude.

So he stared at the lawn and got lost in his own mind.

Right then and there he realized he never wanted to go through what Hotch had to go through. No matter how many philosophers described love in the most beautiful, enchanting way, Spencer didn’t want it anymore.

He didn’t want to go through a heartbreak, because how worth it could it be?

Of course, all information he had in his repertoire pointed to the claim that it was worth it. Yet he couldn’t pay attention to Oscar Wilde, trying to tell him that “hearts are made to be broken,” or E. A. Bucchianeri screaming that “grief is the price we pay for love.”

All he could see at that moment was the most stone-faced man he had ever known, breaking down in front of everyone he knew over the woman he loved.

At that moment Spencer Reid vowed to completely give up on love. He would become the best profiler to ever live. People would compare him to Jason Gideon, but Spencer Reid would win every time. Spencer wouldn’t let himself be like Gideon and get so hung up over a person that he couldn’t ever work anymore.

So when Spencer left the funeral and went to bed that night, he was confident that he would sleep alone like that forever. It was comfortable like that and he was happy. Who needs to be in love?

Not Spencer Reid that’s for sure.

Well, until three months later, when Spencer Reid met Y/N Y/L/N.

She was beautiful, and Spencer knew he wanted to get to know her the first time he laid eyes on her.

But he was doing such a good job recently…. Even Hotch was impressed with his work ethic. The only one who had talked to him about his lack of emotion was Penelope, she seemed concerned when Spencer told her he didn’t want to meet let alone go on a date with the cute nerdy barista from her go to coffee shop. Spencer refused to reason with her, he was too focused on proving himself to Hotch and the rest of the team.

Even though in the back of his mind, Spencer knew he had already proven himself to the rest of the team, now he just needed to be good enough for himself.

A truly impossible task.

But he was still trying to do it, so he didn’t talk to the barista at the new coffee shop he was trying.

He wasn’t expecting her to try and talk to him. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to give up his own reasoning.

“That’s a lot of sugar, sugar. Are you as sweet as your coffee?” she said, giggling as she did it. She knew the line was cheesy and stupid but she had been eyeing Spencer Reid since he came in and knew she needed to get his attention. Luckily, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Their first date was right then and there. They got distracted and talked till closing, Y/N’s coworkers noticing she was actually putting herself out there and deciding to pick up her slack so she could continue.

“So are you going to call me Dr. Reid or were you just leading me on for 3 hours?”

“Of course I’ll call you, how else am I going to get you to watch Doctor Who?”

Y/N smiled, “Well I know this is kind of forward, but I have this art exhibit tomorrow, I would love to see you there. But don’t over think that! I’ve invited pretty much everyone I know. I have a bet to win amongst the other art students, whoever has the most people come to see them wins one of those giant Costco sheet cakes. I need that sheet cake Spencer.”

Spencer smiled, “Well, I am from Vegas . . . Maybe I could help push the odds in your favor.”

“Well I can’t wait to see you there. Tomorrow, 6 pm, I’ll text you the details.”

It was only when he laid down to sleep that Spencer remembered his philosophy on love, but strangely, he did not care.

He may have been trying to freeze his heart, but Y/N was coming in with a blowtorch.

And he didn’t mind. In fact he unlocked the door to let her in.

So when he arrived at work the next morning, he fully intended on going to her art show. He thought about what flowers to bring her. . . was this a date? Was last night a date? Were roses too strong a message? He couldn’t do anything red, it was too forward. Pink? What if she saw it as stereotypical because she’s a woman, maybe she hates pink?! Yellow Tulips were safe, but if he got her yellow tulips then she would think they were just friends and Spencer didn’t want to be just friends.

His internal debate was interrupted by none other than Penelope Garcia, but not to interrupt their paperwork day with a case, but to make an announcement to the bullpen.

“Hello my loves! I have an interesting idea for some team bonding tonight, my favorite barista and dear friend has invited me to her school art show. Of course she needs the most support humanly possible, so you all need to come with me and look at cool art!”

“Who’s this friend of yours Penelope?” JJ asked.

“Oh Jayge you’ve met Y/N! She’s lovely and I’m sure an incredible artist. You guys will all love her!”

Suddenly Spencer remembered Hotch and his broken down faces at Haley’s funeral. He remembered his philosophy on love and his fear of heartbreak.

But he also remembered how alive he felt with Y/N. How the way she laughed like a little kid and how that made him feel giddy. He remembered how she was always so interested in what he had to say. He remembered that he really liked her.

And at that moment, Spencer realized that he did not have to choose between being in love and keeping his heart safe from the devastating heartbreak of seeing his true love die. He realized that the reaper could only find Haley because Hotch let people know they were together Because everyone knew of Hotch’s wife, she was in constant danger.

Maybe if he kept Y/N secret he could still be with her.

“Spencer! Did you hear me?”

“No, um sorry Garcia what did you say?”

“I asked if you were going to come to Y/N’s art show, you know you too would make such a cute couple! You should totally come.”

“I actually can’t, I’m not feeling well.”

She sighed, “That’s what you said last time I tried to get you two together 187 . . . Do you want to talk about anything Spencer? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine, I just have a headache. I don’t want to go out tonight.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder for a second, before following Morgan to the kitchen. Spencer knew she was going to say something to him, but he didn’t care. He had found the perfect solution to his conundrum.

And he knew exactly what flowers to send to Y/N.

Y/N texted him thirteen times, and waited an extra hour after the open house closed in case he showed. So although she went home empty handed, one person away from enough cake to feed fifty, she received a call from Spencer Reid.

“Hey, where were you tonight? I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, something came up, but I have something for you! Are you still there?”

“Oh no, I just got to my apartment. I can send you the address.”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

And five minutes later Spencer was at Y/N’s door, with Chinese take out and white peonies, a flower known for its apologetic symbolism.

Y/N blushed, “You didn’t have to bring me flowers Spencer . . .”

“Well I wanted to bring some to your show, but I figured this could be the next best thing . . . And maybe we could eat some of your Costco sheet cake afterwards. Sounds like a balanced meal to me.”

“Although I love that idea, I unfortunately came home tonight sheet cake-less.”

Reid frowned, “How close were you? Would I have made any difference?”

“Oh no!” Y/N lied, “I was way off, don’t even worry about it.” She smiled, “I’m just excited that you're here right now.”

Spencer blushed and looked down at his feet, “Well I’m excited to be here.”

Four months after that night, Y/N asked Spencer a seemingly stupid question while they were eating take out at her apartment. “Spencer, I love takeout and all but we haven’t gone out in public together since the first time we met. . . Call me stupid but I’m starting to wonder if you don’t want to be seen with me.”

Spencer sighed, “Y/N, it’s not that it’s just . . . complicated.”

“I just don’t get it. Am I the second woman or something?”

“No! Absolutely not! You are my one and only flower,” he said, smiling and then leaning in to kiss her nose. She giggled in response, but quickly remembered the serious nature of their conversation. “Y/N, you know what I do for a living.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

“Not too long ago, my boss was targeted by a serial killer who made it his mission to make his life miserable. In doing so he killed his wife. I just . . . I don’t want that to happen to you Y/N. I think I’m falling in love with you, and I can’t put you through that.”

“Spencer . . . I love you too.”

So no matter how badly Y/N wanted to tell her family, or update her Facebook status, she respected Spencer, and although she didn’t completely understand his concerns, she wanted him to be happy.

So she spent ten more months like that, catering to Spencer Reid’s peace of mind. Pretending to smile as he told her stories of all the funny things his team members did, all about their partners, and their love lives.

A couple times now, Y/N asked Spencer if she could meet them, but Spencer always shot it down. When he first mentioned the idea of keeping their relationship a secret, Y/N had secretly hoped it would be one of those things that was forgotten about within a week or two. But no. It had been many, many weeks, and Spencer still didn’t want to be seen in public with her.

And by now that was all she wanted. To go on a real date, to introduce him to her friends, to actually be able to tell her coworkers that something did come from that guy she hit it off with.

Everyday, Y/N felt she did the same exact thing, she went to work, would come home and if Spencer was still in Quantico, she would convince him to come over. (They had been dating for over a year now, and Y/N had never been to his apartment. She didn’t even know where it was). If Spencer did come over, he would usually bring some kind of dessert with him, and they would talk and be merry in their own little secret oasis. A couple weeks ago, Y/N started to get this uncomfortable, uneasy feeling that encompassed her whole body, her whole being. Every part of her was trying to tell her that Spencer Reid was not the man for her. And even though she was still very much in love with him, she agreed.

Although she loved Spencer for the person he was, the man who brought her every different flavor of cheesecake from the bakery across town (one a day for fifty nine days straight), the man who begged her to make him a painting for valentines day instead of buying him a present, the man who cried when she did and laughed when she did and-

There were a lot of things to love about Spencer Reid, but there were a lot of things to hate about their relationship.

She hated the time she bought a gold locket in the shape of a heart, and put a picture of them in it so she could keep him with her all day long, and he made her return it because it could fly open and someone could recognize him. She hated the day she came home with a little beige kitten named Betsy and Spencer made her give Betsy to her sister so that he wouldn’t get cat hair on his clothes and have to answer a million questions. She hated the time Spencer missed her birthday weekend because he had a case and couldn’t give an excuse to why he couldn’t go. She hated that Spencer was her entire life, while she seemed like just an inconvenience to his.

And most of all, she hated that she loved him so much. Because deep down she knew that she could never leave Spencer Reid, but she also knew that there was no way they could last if nothing changed.

Just then Spencer knocked on her door, she had offered him his own key many times, but he declined because he didn’t want anyone to see it on his key ring and ask what it was for. She let him in, and right away his fun perky smile dropped. “You’ve been crying. I can tell.”

“Is that the kind of thing they teach you in FBI school?”

“Yes actually, but that’s not the point,” he said, dropping his bouquet of red chrysanthemums on Y/N’s coffee table and grabbing one of her hands with both of his. “Talk to me Y/N.”

She sighed, “I love you Spencer, but I just don’t know if we can do this anymore.”

“What do you mean flower?”

“Spencer we’ve been together for over a year-”

“One year, two months and five days,” he corrected.

“Yes, yes that. We’ve been together for one year, two months and five days but no one except us knows that.”

“Y/N I thought you were okay with that, I just want you to be safe.”

“I thought I was okay with it but,” she paused, afraid of what she wanted to say, “I’m not Spencer, I don’t want to live like this anymore. I love you, and I want to be with you. To really be with you. What happens if we ever get married, do we have to get eloped, would you even let us get married because you need someone else to watch? When do I get to tell my mom I’m in a relationship? What if you get hurt out in the field, and no one has heard of me, let alone knows to call me, and we never get to say goodbye? How far do you plan on taking this?”

Spencer grew flustered, “Um, I- I don’t know? I didn’t know you were even thinking about those things.”

“Do you think about those things? Things like getting married?”

“You’re the love of my life Y/N, of course I do.”

“Well then something needs to change. We can’t live like this anymore.”

“Things will get better Y/N, I promise you, we’ll start small but I’m going to make this better for you. Actually, um we can start right now,” he started digging through his messenger bag. After a minute, he pulled out a smaller gold heart locket than the one you had originally purchased for yourself. “I, um I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I feel like now is the best time. I couldn’t find the same one, but it’s the same picture inside.”

She teared up, “I love it. It’s perfect. Here, put it on me.” She turned around and pushed her hair to one side so that Spencer could clasp the delicate chain around her neck.

They kissed, and afterward Spencer spoke, “I hate to ruin this moment, but I’ve had to use the bathroom ever since I got here.”

Y/N laughed, “Ok go, I’ll be waiting.”

While waiting for her love to come back, Y/N admired her flowers. Ever since Spencer began to get her different flowers to symbolize different things she had developed an abnormal botany fascination. She would always beat Spencer to explaining the symbolism of her latest bouquet, so she already knew the red chrysanthemum was a symbol of prosperous, passionate love in most countries. However she also knew that in Italy, chrysanthemums were a death flower, given only at funerals.

Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if some unconscious part of Spencer’s genius brain was beginning to feel the same way she did. Three weeks later nothing much had changed in the state of Y/N and Spencer’s romance. She was still unheard of in the eyes of the BAU and two nights prior Spencer had stopped her from calling her mother to tell her about him.

And then Y/N discovered her sick, uneasy, all over body feeling was not just her incredible intuition.

She was pregnant.

She had taken a couple of tests a while prior and could just now get into the doctor to get it confirmed. But it was official. She was pregnant.

As soon as the nurse confirmed it she broke down crying. And when she asked her a couple more questions, she broke down even further. “Are you currently in a relationship?”

“No,” she sniffed.

“Do you know who the father is?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want to go from here, but there’s a lot more options that you may think. Everything will be okay.”

Y/N still cried the whole way home.

She spent the rest of the day thinking about how to tell Spencer, and then overthinking what he would say.

She knew Spencer loved children, but he couldn’t even manage to tell people she existed, how was he going to explain a long term relationship and a baby?

It would have taken decades for Y/N to prepare to deliver this news, but Spencer showed up at 8:19 pm.

“Hi flower! How are you today?”

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out, she was not planning to do it exactly like that, but she panicked.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant Spencer.”

He sighed and ran one of his hands through his hair, “You could get an abortion?”

Y/N lost it. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me Spencer?”

“I don’t think a baby is going to be very easy to keep a secret Y/N.”

“Is this how far you’re willing to go Spencer? You want to keep me hidden so bad that you want me to get an abortion? Are you insane?”

“You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry, we’ll figure something out.”

“No, you’re wrong there Spencer. I’ll figure something out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I love you but, please just get out of my apartment.”

“Y/N please don’t do this, I love you, we can make this work. I know I haven’t been doing the best job for these three weeks, but just give me a little time and I promise we can do this.”

Y/N wiped tears from her eyes, then reached her thumb up to Spencer’s face, wiping his cheek. “Spencer, it’s not a matter of how much I love you or you love me. Sometimes, things just aren’t made to work out. We gave it a good run, but no matter how hard we love each other, I don’t think either of us is happy.”

“But I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it, flower.”

“I’ve never been in your world Spencer, after tonight, nothing in your life will drastically change. You don’t have to worry about living in a universe without me because you’ve already been doing that for 15 months.”

“Please don’t do this, can we just give it another try?”

Y/N wrapped her arms around him, “That’s all we’ve been doing.”

The couple stayed in silence like that for a couple of minutes before Spencer spoke. “Can we just stay here for one night. I can’t believe I never got to do it.” Spencer had never spent the full night at Y/N’s place because he always worried that he would forget to answer his phone and the team would try to come to his apartment to tell him they had a case.

“You know we can’t do that Spencer,” she sighed, knowing she had to stay strong and act on her own best interest, but she also loved Spencer. “But you can stay here, if you want.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, um do I need that key you always offered me? To lock up when I leave?”

“No, the front door locks automatically when you close it, you just have to make sure you have everything before you go.”

And so Spencer slept in Y/N’s bed, for the first time, without her in it.

And Y/N called the one person she knew Spencer would never try to track her down to to avoid exposing himself.

Penelope Garcia.

She of course let Y/N stay with her for the night, and although she would eventually, Garcia did not pry when Y/N said she didn’t want to talk about what was going on. So Y/N walked to her apartment with peace of mind, she knew that although she had a lot to think about, for the time being everything was going to be just fine.

On the way to Penelope’s apartment, Y/N saw a flower vendor. She couldn’t help but stop by and pick up a bouquet for Penelope, but more so for the symbolic meaning.

Daffodils and daisies.

The flowers of new beginnings.

“I'd kiss you as the lights went out Swaying as the room burned down I'd hold you as the water rushes in If I could dance with you again”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy

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vickyskpopkingdom · 4 years ago

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Baekhyun :: working blues

request: Hii! Im rlly into baekhyun's new album rn and i was hoping u could write a fluff where ur just having a rough day and he sings u to sleep pls!! Rlly like ur fluff writes btw 💕💕

thank you so much for your kind words! i haven't written about exo in a long, long time but i hope that you still like what i came up with!

warnings: overworking, stress

1.8k words, gn reader

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Sometimes you felt like the world was collapsing on you. The weight on your shoulders got too heavy at times and you were just tired. So tired, so tired. Today was one of those days.

The work you had to do didn't seem to end. At this point you couldn't even count how many e-mails you had answered, how many texts you have read, how many calls you made and how many words you have written. Your eyes were so tired they started to water at the sight of the bright screen of your laptop in front of you. When had it become so dark around you? Hasn't it been noon just a few minutes ago?

A quick glance through your bedroom window and towards the clock on your wall told you something different. It was already eight p.m., the streetlamp outside your window was the only source of light right now other than your laptop. With a sigh you leaned back into your chair and tried stretching your arms as well as your neck and legs. Every joint in your body seemed to make a protesting cracking noise and as you tried to massage your neck, your muscles burned with protest.

You sighed again. Maybe you really should invest in one of those fancy office chairs that claimed to be a blessing for your whole body. At the thought of the price however you shook that thought out of your head.

Standing up you got through another round of stretching your whole body and decided to check out the kitchen for food. It only hit you as the dim light of the fridge illuminated your face that you were supposed to go grocery shopping today. Empty shelves greeted you back and your stomach grumbled angrily.

You tried hard not to scream out of frustation. Nothing wanted to work your way these days and you were honestly so tired of it. For some time you were able to tell yourself that everything would work out and that you would find your working blues again but that was yet to happen. Quietly you closed the fridge door again, sliding down against it to the floor.

The project you had been assigned at the start of last week was way more complicated than you had anticipated, the sources you were thinking of using turned out to be a scam. Adding to that the promotion you had been so sure of getting had been given to someone else and while you could understand that they deserved it, you were sure that you would have deserved it as well. Not only was your fridge emtpty but you had been neglecting your healthy eating habits for quite some time now, which only frustated you more.

And today all of these things seemed to add up all at once, crushing you under their weight.

When was the last time you really had a good nights sleep? You had worked late and gotten up early, eating only bits and pieces of instant food, sitting at your desk all day and falling into bed only to repeat the same cycle over and over again. Right now you were fighting to keep the tears at bay but the merry-go-round in your head kept spinning, piling up more and more worries.

When was the last time you had seen your friends? When was the last time you even properly talked to them? You were always telling them that you were busy with work when they asked to hang out. They never pressured you to still come with them but you knew that they would love to see you again even for a few hours. Yet you still could not get yourself to take their invitations, the thought of your unfinished project sitting in the back of your head constantly.

When was the last time your boyfriend--?

Just as the tears started flowing down your face the doorbell rang. Its sound surprised you so much that you jumped up, your heart beating fast. The clock in your kitchen read nine p.m. One hour went by while you were staring holes in the walls and drowned in your thoughts.

You couldn't really think of a reason why someone would visit you this late, on a weekday nonetheless. But not answering the door wasn't an option either, you would just start to worry about 'what-ifs'. So you decided to take a peak through the peephole in your door.

Your heart picked up its pace at you saw a familiar face illuminated by the light of a smartphone-screen, lookin worried and confused. Fumbling with your keys you opened the door and the person looked up from their phone.

"Hey Bambi, are you okay?"

Baekhyuns voice filled your ears as soon as he looked into your face. He eyed you up and down, making sure you were alright. "I texted and tried to call you for at least two hours now. There was no reaction from you whatsoever."

As you allowed him to step into your home, you sighed. "Sorry, I threw my phone across the room at one point and didn't pick it up again."

Your boyfriend chuckled as he got rid of his shoes and coat, placing both neatly onto their usual spots in the entrance of your flat. Just the sight of him, doing everyday things, smiling, talking was an instant boost for your mood. Now that he was here you fully realized just how much you had missed his presence.

"Why would you throw your phone?", Baekhyun questioned.

You made a dismissive move with your hand, not wanting to talk about the infuriating call you had to make a few hours ago. "I was frustrated", you only said.

Together you and Baekhyun made your way towards your bedroom. Just as you stepped into the room and turned on the lights you remembered the state you left your working place in. But it was too late to make him turn around now. Quickly you tried to tidy up the place a little bit, hiding the traces of your overworking as Baekhyun cleared his throat to gain your attention.

"Are you drowning yourself in work again?"

You stopped dead in your tracks. This wasn't the first time he had seen you piling up work on your shoulders and ending up being unable to do anything else. Back then you had promised him to take better care of yourself or at least take real breaks once in a while to catch a breath.

"Maybe...."

Now it was Baekhyuns turn to sigh. "Did you eat today? And before you answer i mean 'eat a proper meal'."

Picking up your phone from the floor you sat yourself down on the bed. "No, not really. It's just this project..."

Baekhyun shook his head at you, but you still noticed the small smile on his face. "You are such a hard-working person. But you need to allow yourself some time to breathe, you know?"

His voice was calm, sounding like music to your ears. Even after all this time you had been in a relationship with him you were still surprised by how easily he could make you relax.

"Yes, I know."

"And since I am such a caring and awesome boyfriend", he said, rustling with a plastic bag you only now noticed in his hands, "I brought you some food."

As you looked into his smiling face you couldn't help but ask yourself how you got so lucky.

The meal was good, it was your favorite and having Baekhyun by your side made you feel even more grounded. It almost felt like you gained new energy after a week of complete exhaustion and constant worrying. While you were eating the both of you talked about everything and nothing, catching up, telling stories and sharing your newest netflix suggestions.

The evening proceeded and your eyes landed on the clock again. It was late, if you were still caught up in your workaholic-lifestyle you would have already been asleep right now. However surprisingly you currently were not even close to worrying about getting up the next morning. What bothered you most right now was that this evening would end and eventually you would have to go to sleep an wake up in the morning, getting back to your work.

Baekhyun seemed to notice the frown on your face sooner than you could hide it again. "What's wrong?"

You shrugged. "This is nice, simply being together with you. But you probably have to leave soon and then tomorrow I have to work on this stupid project again."

"I can stay the night, if you want me to of course."

"I didn't want to pressure you into--"

"You didn't", he interrupted you, before you could end the sentence and feel like you made him stay against his will, "I actually wanted to ask if I could stay anyways. Tomorrow is one of my free days. I could even keep you company while you work."

Your chest felt warm at his words. "I would love that."

Soon you two found yourselves back in your bed, bodies entangled with each other, quiet breaths sounding through the room. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, but as soon as you closed your eyes all you could think of was the next morning, the project, the unanswered emails, the calls.

"Still can't calm down, Bambi?", Baekhyun whispered in your ear, while slowly stroking your hair.

With closed eyes you shook your head. "I can't take my mind off of work."

The next thing you heard was quiet humming coming from Baekhyun. You could feel the vibration of his vocal chords against your own body. His voice really was a blessing for everyones ears, he could carry emotions through singing that you weren't even able to put into words. His songs made you happy, they made you cry occasionally, they made you feel calm or made you miss something you didn't even knew existed. It was a gift.

His humming transformed into words, calmly sang into the otherwise dark and quiet room.

It's a night filled with a single stream of light

You're my timely rain, Bambi

I don't want to waste even a second of this night just

being the two of us

As you listened to his singing, you could finally feel your muscles relaxing, your brain calming down and your whole body drifting towards sleep. There were no worrysome thoughts turning your mind upside down anymore, there was only Baekhyun and his voice filling your head with images of your favorite places, your favorite memories and him. The warmth of his body under the blankets made you feel safe, at home. This was were you belonged.

And while Baekhyun continued with the song you fell into a deep sleep, one that you deserved after all the work you had done. You already knew that you found your blues again. Everything would work out again, just like you had always thought yourself. And all you had needed was just a small push in the right direction from the right person.

I don't want to wake up from this dream, keep this tempo

I hope the sun doesn't rise while I keep my eyes closed

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I really hope you enjoyed this one! It was nice to write something again but I do feel like i am a little bit out of training i guess haha

and also if you feel like the reader in this scenario, please remember that there will be better days & that life is more than working day to day! take a break, make some tea, get some fresh air and get back to your work with a fresh mind; you can do it!!

#baekhyun #byun baekhyun #bbh #baekyhun imagine #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fluff #x reader #baekhyun x reader #gn reader #exo #baekhyun bambi #exo scenario #exo imagine #exo x reader #baekhyun fic

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cristalconnors · 4 years ago

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TOP 20 SONGS OF 2020

20. “BELOW THE CLAVICLE”- EARTHEATER

“The meaning hasn’t come up yet. It’s still under the surface below the clavicle.”

It isn’t just Alexandra Drewchin’s ear splitting soprano when she hits that impossibly high B, practically shrieking out the “cle” syllable of clavicle, though that’s undoubtedly when I first knew that Eartheater’s avant folk was for me- it’s also the cinematic, lush strings, both bowed and plucked (is that acoustic guitar or harp? I genuinely can’t tell), deepening and complicating the sonic texture of Drewchin’s study of parsing through emotions you aren’t ready to make sense of yet.

19. “PUSSY TALK”- CITY GIRLS, FT. DOJA CAT

“This pussy so ghetto, this pussy speak ebonics”

“WAP”’s funnier, classless Irish twin, though it’s important to note “Pussy Talk” came first. Yung Miami and JT enlist Doja Cat to expound on everything their pussies deserve and will absolutely settle for nothing less than. And why should they when they’re spitting out verses this inspiredly hilarious with such confidence and flow?

18. “LICK IN HEAVEN”- JESSY LANZA

“Once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning...”

Jessy Lanza is talking about losing your cool, letting your emotions get the best of you and lashing out instead of letting cooler heads prevail, but when that earworm of a chorus hits- “once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning” - I can’t stop spinning. I’m that woman on the single art, a wine mom lost in the delirium of the dance floor and in Lanza’s hypnotic, fragmented rhythms.

17. “GASLIGHTER”- THE CHICKS

“Boy, you know exactly what you did on my boat!”

“Gaslighter” finds Natalie Ames and her Chicks at their most simultaneously ruthless and ebullient, ripping Ames’s ex-husband Adrian Pasdar a new asshole and ratcheting up the righteous anger of “Goodbye Earl” tenfold, channeling it into a glorious wall of sound in what might be their most rousing, emotionally resonant chorus in their storied career.

16. “HANNAH SUN”- LOMELDA

“Hannah do no harm...”

While “Hannah Sun” begins as an exquisitely observed rumination on grappling with long-distance, pining for someone who’s a continent away, it gradually becomes clear that Hannah Read blames herself for putting the distance between her and the subject of her longing, and that the distance isn’t strictly literal. Skittering synths (or is that distorted flute?) complicate and enrich the texture of the song, allowing it to build organically and stunningly towards a heartbreaking plea to herself- “Hannah, do no harm.”

15. “FIRE”- WAXAHATCHEE

“And when I turn back around will you drain me back out? Will you let me believe that I broke through?”

When I’d drive back and forth between Dallas and Austin over and over again when I was in college, I’d often get off I-35 past Waco and take the back roads through towns I’d never heard of, the sun setting spectacularly behind the titular hills of Hill Country that were beginning to roll out in earnest. I think about that a lot when listening to “Fire,” a song dripping in rural Americana that was, unsurprisingly, inspired by a road trip. We’ve probably all been Katie Crutchfield as she crossed the bridge into West Memphis- alone in the car, awed by the simple beauty of the American countryside, making speeches to ourselves about our past mistakes and figuring out a way forward.

14. “3AM”- HAIM

“On the screen and in my jeans, just make me feel good.”

On an album full of genre departures and decidedly darker themes than we’ve typically heard from Haim in their near decade of syncopated bubblegum pop rock, “3AM” stands out not only as their most effective stab at pastiche, slipping into the trappings of contemporary R&B with shocking ease and gusto, but also as their most unabashedly fun track in their entire oeuvre. “I think you can hear the amount of joy and laughs we had making this song” Alana Haim tells Apple Music, and you absolutely can.

13. “QADIR”- NICK HAKIM

“We’re sinking down a hole without thinking about our loved ones who might be shrinking...”

I often wonder if I’m putting enough effort into maintaining my relationships with friends I don’t see regularly, who live several time zones away, living their own lives while I live mine. When the thought of sustaining simple correspondence becomes overwhelming, it’s easy for months to go by before you realize you haven’t spoken to one of your closest friends. “QADIR” plays less like a eulogy for a friend gone too soon (though of course it is that) than a plea to the listener to put in the work. It’s worth it. You never know when it’ll be too late.

12. “LEVITATING”- DUA LIPA

“Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes shining just the way we are.”

Just a few bars of that delightfully bouncy, extra-terrestrial beat is enough to launch me into space. It’s so refreshing to hear a song that remembers that pop is supposed to be joyful and is best when it’s a bit silly. When discussing this track with Apple Music, Dua Lipa cites Austin Powers as inspiration, elaborating that “if I do a video for this, Mike Meyers has to be in it.” Can’t you just see them together, performing a farcical pas de deux of seduction like the spiritual successor to “Beautiful Stranger?”

11. “RIQUIQUI”- ARCA

“Love in the face of fear! Fear in the face of God!”

Arca’s made a career of harnessing chaos and somehow making sense of it. On an album that finds her embracing more traditional, accessible song structures, “Riquiqui” is a reminder that even when working within an AB structure, she’s still breaking rules left and right and having a blast doing it. She’s also never sounded so ferociously empowered in either her femininity or in her Venezuelan identity, rattling off local colloquialisms with affection and verve without a second thought as to who’s going to understand it.

10. “FANTASY”- AGAINST ALL LOGIC

“I think about you all the time...”

Or, the musical embodiment of this gif:

When Nicolas Jaar’s tormented synths and crunching beats give way to Beyoncé’s unmistakable alto, it is indeed quite the shock. But should it be? Even if 2017-2019 finds him ditching the dancefloor in favor of more severe, unforgiving soundscapes, his already varied career has shown us nothing’s off limits to him. So why not reinvent Beyoncé’s iconic “Baby Boy” into an industrial, vaguely sinister certified bop that arguably surpasses the original?

9. “PEOPLE, I’VE BEEN SAD”- CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS

“If you disappear, then I’m disappearing, too.”

“People, I’ve been sad” plays out with the vulnerability and intimacy of a tumblr text post you put out in the middle of the night, only to hastily delete later when it gets no notes. It forgoes flowery language in favor of just getting to the point. “I’ve been sad.” Héloïse Adelaïde Letissier blows up this deceptively simple sentiment with richly layered textures and a big screen gloss not to offer any remedies but instead to offer solidarity. We’re all in this hell together.

8. “DESCRIBE”- PERFUME GENIUS

“Can you just find him for me?”

Mike Hadreas has never sounded so hopeless. Utilizing harsh, rattling guitar that would make Kevin Shields swoon, he conveys the experience of being so estranged from happiness and joy that you need to rely on others to describe the sensation to you. But how, when exploring darker textures than he ever has before, does he make despondency sound so divine?

7. “4 AMERICAN DOLLARS”- U.S. GIRLS

“No matter how much you get to have, you will still die and that’s the only thing.”

Meg Remy picks up where she left off on “4 American Dollars,” reviving the subversive pastiche she mastered on In a Poem Unlimited, this time harnessing the power of funk to dismantle the fallacies we’re taught about the virtues of capitalism. Heavy stuff, but Remy makes it less didactic than joyous, ensuring the listener will be singing “I don’t believe in pennies and nickels and dimes and dollars and pesos and pounds and rupees and yen and rubles” until they start to wonder if maybe they shouldn’t, either.

6. “STUPID LOVE”- LADY GAGA

“I freak out, I freak out, I freak out, I freak out!”

Due to a healthy spirit of contrarianism mixed with a touch of internalized homophobia and genuine bafflement at her universal appeal and praise, I was a proud Lady Gaga hater for as long as she’d been a cultural entity. I just didn’t get her at all and loved that about myself. Annoying, I know. 2020 was the year I was finally ready to let that all go. Just before the world fell apart in March, I was out at Flaming Saddles (RIP) with friends the night this song came out and by the sixteenth time it played, I understood why it was inducing such hysteria. This was a cultural shift. After a frustrating near-decade of Gaga subverting expectations so thoroughly that she was actively working against her strengths and sabotaging her cultural ubiquity in the process, coupled with the most frightening era of political upheaval in our lifetimes, she was finally ready to save us and be Lady Gaga again. Booming synth, drag sensibilities, absurd thematic conceits- all was right in the world. For the first time in a long time, people had something to be hopeful about, and as I danced that night, I felt that hope, too.

5. “SHELLFISH MADEMOISELLE”- RÓISÍN MURPHY

“How dare you sentence me to a lifetime without dancing?”

As soon as that bass starts (the funkiest bassline in the history of music?) it’s like Róisín Murphy’s snake charming oboe, coaxing even the most stalwart curmudgeon onto the dancefloor and keeping them there, dancing frantically and involuntarily like the citizens of Strasbourg in 1518, trying their best to keep up with Murphy who isn’t even breaking a sweat, commanding the masses with a sultry remove, beckoning you closer, pulling you inexorably deeper into the mass of gyrating bodies and whispering in your ear “come and have a dance with yer mum.”

4. “PARTY 4 U”- CHARLI XCX

“I only threw this party for you...”

As PC Music / Bubblegum Bass / whatever you want to call it enters its second decade, Charli XCX proves not only that there’s still new textures to explore within it, but also that no one can exploit its artifice to get down to emotional truths like she can. How can she make something this slick sound so vulnerable? “I only threw this party for you” she croons over and over again over glorious syncopated synths that build exquisitely, reaching their climax only to immediately fall away, until it’s just her and her trusty autotune, pleading with the subject of the song to just come to the damn party. But they won’t, of course. They never do, do they?

3. “WAP”- CARDI B, FT. MEGAN THEE STALLION

“I want you to touch that lil’ dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat!”

Sometimes you just immediately know you’re living through a significant cultural moment. No, not COVID. I’m talking about the experience of hearing Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s instant classic “WAP” for the first time, a titanic meeting of the minds that finds both of them at the apex of their cultural influence and at their most undeniable. Can the argument be made that these two aren’t the two best rappers in the game right now? How could you hear this inspiredly filthy sex positive juggernaut, where Cardi and Megan are trading the sickest verses of their careers, and not think these two deserve the world?

2. “KEROSENE!”- YVES TUMOR

“I can be your baby in real life, sugar. I can live in your dreams.”

If the 2010′s were all about the pop-ification of all music, trading in live instrumentation in favor of polished synths, 2020 forcefully announced the return of the electric guitar when Yves Tumor and Diana Gordon’s back and forth lustfully submissive declarations of desire suddenly gave way to that nasty guitar rip lifted from Uriah Heep’s “Weep in Silence” to announce yet another cultural shift in a year chock full of them- rock and roll was, indeed, here to stay.

1. “I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME”- FIONA APPLE

“I move with the trees in the breeze, I know that time is elastic.”

We live and we learn. Years spent soul searching and on self-discovery shape us into better, smarter people, progressively knowing and understanding ourselves and the world around us more and more clearly, but Fiona Apple knows that none of that can quell the ferocious desire to be loved by someone. By anyone. By you, whoever that is. We can know that time is elastic and that when we’re gone all our particles will disband and disperse and then we’ll be back in the pulse, and we can know that none of this stuff actually matters, but still- we want, we want, we want.

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shortkingzuko · 4 years ago

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title: carving out a life together

relationship: bato/hakoda

warnings: mentions of canon injuries and death, non-graphic animal death

summary: Of course, it’s Katara who brings it up, ever the romantic that she is. It’s the evening, with the bulk of the day’s work done, the remainder being tomorrow’s problem, and Hakoda is sitting in front of the fire in his home, enjoying a pleasant conversation with his daughter while they wait for Bato to return from his work, when Katara, suddenly and without preamble asks, “So when are you and Bato getting married?”

(my late submission for the final day of @bakodafleetweek, prompt: wedding [but.. barely lmao])

read under the cut or on AO3 for the full list of tags + notes

After their many years of pining, silent affection, tentative touches, their eventual confessions, Hakoda and Bato found that they didn’t quite know where to go from here. In the two years since the war ended - an impossible fact that never lost its dreamlike quality when Hakoda thinks about it - the two men have fallen into an easy routine, characterized by early mornings and kisses softer than their battle-harden bodies ever thought possible, by meals shared in the comfort of their own home, and by long days coming to an end when they were able to wrap their arms around each other in bed.

Being with Bato, Hakoda often thinks, feels natural and right, like slipping into his favourite parka; it fits so perfectly that he barely thinks about it, until he contemplates wearing anything else, and then he appreciates its' comfort all the more.

He knows that Bato has harboured feelings for him since they were children, no older than Katara was now, and while he never expressed it freely, Hakoda had always known, in some way. The way that Bato would roll his eyes but still laugh at all his jokes early on, the way that Bato would drop everything whenever Hakoda asked, the way that Bato was dedicated, devoted, to him like no one else - bar Kya - gave it away. It wasn’t hard to accept that Bato loved him, as Hakoda knew that if Bato ever loved anyone else, he would feel a sense of loss and sadness, mixed with the joy of seeing his friend being happy and in love.

It had been harder to come to terms with his own feelings, even years after Kya’s death. Hakoda knew there would always be a piece of his heart dedicated just to her, a love that only she had, but as time went on, he (re)discovered his feelings for his friend, falling in love with his dry wit, his deep voice, the way that would smile whenever he caught Hakoda’s eyes.

During the war, it was easy to rationalize his growing desire to be near Bato at all times, to share a tent with him, to be close enough that at any point he could reach over and place a hand on the taller man’s arm. It was safety, Hakoda remembers telling himself before he finally got his shit together, it was for safety and because he wanted to make sure his friend was okay at all times. And yeah, maybe that was a small part of it, but mostly it was because he enjoyed being close to Bato, revelled in feeling his warmth against his side, in being able to hear the rumble from his chest as he spoke, and from being able to link pinkies with him at a moment’s notice.

Bato always seemed to know Hakoda better than he knew himself because he would just look at Hakoda whenever he initiated an unnecessary touch, and smile coyly, before looking away. He never commented on what Hakoda was doing, until one night in their tent he reached across their sleeping rolls, and placed a gentle hand on top of Hakoda’s. When he didn’t pull away, Bato shifted slightly, laced their fingers together, before whispering, “Goodnight, Koda.”

And they had fallen asleep like that, though Hakoda had spent what felt like hours just memorizing the warmth that he felt, the feeling of Bato’s rough skin behind his calloused fingers, how tenderly and gently Bato’s grip was, and how it loosened even more as he fell asleep. During the night, of course, they had both moved and their hands had separated, but the knowledge of the night before was enough for them, and they spent many more nights falling asleep like that. Eventually, under the gist of doing an impromptu patrol, Hakoda and taken Bato outside the camp, and under trees taller than they could have ever imagined, Hakoda reached for Bato's hand in the daylight. He laced their fingers together, before leaning up - and, to his slight embarrassment, Bato had to hunch down - and pressing a kiss against Bato's chapped lips. They had returned to camp soon after, and if they held hands at dinner, then no one mentioned it.

There were bumps that they hit, as one might expect, considering that they were in a war, that Bato was Hakoda’s second-in-command, and considering that Hakoda was entering the relationship as a widower with two children. Though Sokka and Katara both knew Bato well - the man had taken them ice dodging! - and loved him like an uncle, or even as a second dad, they were still confused, shocked, and a little bit hurt when Hakoda had finally sat them down after the comet, and with one hand on each of their knees, Bato sitting stiff as a board next to him, that he and Bato were dating.

In the two years that passed, any apprehension that his children carried has melted away to easy acceptance and happy neutrality at seeing their father sharing his life with a man that made him smile in a way that they hadn’t seen in years. They roll their eyes at the sight of Bato and Hakoda holding hands as they walk around their under-construction village, when they see their father leaning up to press a quick kiss to Bato’s chin, and when they see Bato sporting matching beads in his hair as Hakoda.

The two years since the end of the war seem to fly by, with Hakoda and Bato learning to readjust to life that isn’t constantly under threat. He’s happy to be with Bato, happy that for once, everything is simple and happy that he and his partner can just go with the flow for once.

Of course, it’s Katara who brings it up, ever the romantic that she is. It’s been about a month since Hakoda and Bato’s anniversary, a date which is vague at the best of times and which had no formal celebration, though the dinner that night was more fanciful than usual, that was due to Katara and Sokka’s friends visiting, saying farewell as Katara and Sokka were needed in the village for the upcoming winter months.

It’s the evening, with the bulk of the day’s work done, the remainder being tomorrow’s problem, and Hakoda is sitting in front of the fire in his home, enjoying a pleasant conversation with his daughter while they wait for Bato to return from his work, when Katara, suddenly and without preamble asks, “So when are you and Bato getting married?”

If Hakoda had been drinking anything, he would have spat it out. Instead, he blinks a few times, before asking, “What?”

“When are you getting married?” She repeats. “You guys have been together for a few years now, right? Are you planning on getting married?”

“Uh,” Hakoda is still trying to gather himself from the whiplash that the conversation has given him. “We weren’t… we haven’t talked about it?”

Katara hums, and fiddles with her necklace. It’s not a move that goes unnoticed.

“Do you want us to get married?” Hakoda thinks for a moment then corrects himself. “Would you be okay if we got married? If I got married?”

Hakoda knows that in theory, his daughter wants him to be happy, she wants Bato to be happy. But, he knows Katara still has complicated emotions over Kya, still misses her deeply, and that her wanting them to be happy was different than her feeling comfortable with her dad marrying someone else.

Sokka, Hakoda knows, harbours somewhat similar feelings, though he leans more towards the opinion that Kya would have wanted her two best friends to be happy, would have wanted his dad to find love again, and if nothing else, Sokka has a few more years worth of memories of Bato being around and taking care of them.

Katara lets go of her necklace and sighs. “I don’t know.” She looks a bit surprised at her own honesty. “I guess? I want you to be happy, and I know now that you’ll always love mom and that Bato isn’t trying to replace her, but, it’s just…”

“Weird?” Hakoda offers.

Katara shrugs. “Yeah. It’s a little weird.”

They sit in a silence of understanding for a few moments before Hakoda clears his throat. “Well, as I said, Bato and I haven’t spoken about marriage yet, but if we do then I’ll check with you and Sokka first, okay?” Hakoda waits until Katara meets his gaze again. “I’m not going to do anything that hurts you.”

Katara smiles, a little watery, before leaning over and giving Hakoda a brief hug.

It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy because, after that conversation with Katara, the topic of marriage keeps appearing in his thoughts. Really, there’s nothing tangible that they can gain from getting married. There are no illusions of virtue that they need to maintain - after all, Hakoda has two children and no one has ever accused Bato of celibacy - and they already live together, Bato not even attempting to rebuild his previously destroyed igloo when they arrived home.

Hakoda thinks of his own engagement to Kya, how he had to humble himself in front of her parents to get their blessing, how he had worked so hard leading up to that point to prove that he would be a good husband, that he could provide for them and make her happy, how he spent so many nights carving designs into whalebone before Kanna eventually gave him her necklace to gift. It had been terrifying, anxiety-inducing and wonderful, the mixture of confidence and worry that he felt every time he looked at his half-finished carving and every time there was a moment with Kya where he thought, “ This is it!”

Bato doesn’t have parents anymore, nor does he have any other family members that Hakoda could ask to give him their blessing. If Bato was interested in marrying Hakoda, they already know that Kanna would give them her blessing easily, even casually. They have nothing to prove to one another; they’ve been to war together, have hunted together for years, and even with Bato’s scarred arm and the slight limp that Hakoda has gained, it’s clear to both of them that they can provide for one another.

Hakoda knows that they would have no issue getting the tribe to acknowledge their marriage, arguably the most important part of the wedding ceremony. Half the children in the village already refer to Bato as ‘Chief’, ignoring the slight smile and correction from Bato and their parents that technically that’s not his title. And considering that no one has even tried to set Bato up with one of the nice Northerners that blush when he makes eye contact with them, and the fact that some of the adults in the village - the ones that remember how long Bato’s been pining after Hakoda, the way that he used to go out of his way to spend time with him and his family, despite his self-proclaimed dislike of babies - have been asking if they’re going to be seeing any tall, dark-haired, strong-jawed children anytime soon, well, it’s pretty obvious that everyone has already written Bato and Hakoda off as a forever thing.

Hakoda is pretty sure that they’re right.

He knows that he should actually talk to Bato about this, instead of just bouncing the thought around in his head, weighing the pros and cons of marriage before he’s even found out if Bato wants to get married. They’re pretty happy as is, Hakoda thinks, as he braids Bato’s hair in the morning, making sure not to pull too tightly as he threads the strands through beads that match his own. Bato has never liked too much fuss, has always been a little more private and withdrawn than Hakoda; maybe he would think that a wedding would just be a waste of time, too many people getting involved in their private business. It’s always a balancing act with Bato, between him wanting to show that he’s in love, that he is loved by the man that he’s been pining after for years, the desire to show slight affection with him in public, and his discomfort of being so open, so obvious to the public eye. It’s a balance that Hakoda isn’t always perfect at maintaining - sometimes pushing Bato too far when he pulls his down to kiss him at the end of council meetings, or when he introduces Bato as ‘his partner’ first, instead of ‘second-in-command’ - but it’s a balance that he’s always ecstatic to try and perfect and maintain.

Finally, weeks after his talk with Katara, as he’s rubbing soothing balm into Bato’s shoulder, he asks, “Bato?”

Bato hums. “Yes, Koda?”

“Ever thought about getting married?”

Bato turns his head to look at Hakoda, eyebrows furrowed. “If this is you asking, this is a terrible proposal, so the answer is no.”

Hakoda laughs and shakes his head. “No, no, not a proposal, I’m just. Wondering, I guess, if you ever thought about marriage or…. Or kids? The future, I guess.”

Children are a touchy subject, he knows, but he might as well get all the awkward conversation out of the way now.

Bato’s answer is immediate. “We are not having any more kids, Sokka and Katara are more than enough and they’re not even mine.”

“You know that’s not totally true,” Hakoda mumbles. Bato smiles a bit at that, reaches across his chest to lay a hand on Hakoda’s forearm.

“Besides, I’m getting old , Hakoda, I don’t even think I could… have a kid,” He levels a look with Hakoda, trying to put the emphasis on the right words so that Hakoda knows what he’s trying to say. It works, and briefly, Hakoda remembers back to Bato’s youth, when his voice dropped, when he got his growth spurt, the way he was so proud when the tribe finally stopped shoving him with the women and let him learn how to hunt and fight. Bato has either ignored or changed so many of the functions that would allow them to have a biological child together for so long, and Hakoda understands his uncertainty. “Besides, the only kids I like are yours, and who knows if you can go three for three.”

“You seem to like Toph pretty good.”

“Toph doesn’t count,” Bato says defensively, but his tone has a slightly frustrated edge to it, showing he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Hakoda rolls his eyes as they laugh for a moment.

“Okay, fine, she doesn’t count. But, how about marriage?”

Bato sighs. “You know that the only person I’ll ever want to marry is you.” He says it so casually, with such neutrality, as if it’s just a fact of life - like he was telling Hakoda that summer days were long and that the water that surrounded them was cold. It makes Hakoda’s heart feel like bursting, hearing Bato’s declaration of love, even if it's a few years later than Bato wanted it to be. Hakoda leans over from where he’s kneeling on their bed to kiss Bato’s cheek.

“You know, Katara asked me if we were going to get married.”

“Oh?” Bato says as he shifts away to pull on his nightshirt, now that they’ve thoroughly abandoned lotioning his scar.

“Yeah, she said that she would probably be okay with it. You know how much she misses Kya,” Hakoda adds hastily, feeling a bit guilty. Bato nods as he lays down in the furs, watching as Hakoda goes to put out of the candles that are illuminating the room. It’s almost winter, and as the lights flicker out, the room is soon sent into near pitch darkness. Hakoda leaves one candle lit, and when he lays down next to Bato he admires how the light and shadows dance around his face.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the noise of shifting bodies as they intertwine limbs and get comfortable. Hakoda ends up face pressed against Bato’s strong chest, enjoying the warmth and softness of it as he lightly tosses his own arm across Bato’s waist. He nestles in when he feels the weight of Bato’s scarred arm fall across his shoulder, hand hanging loosely down Hakoda’s back. Bato nuzzles slightly into Hakoda's hair, though he'll never admit it. It’s comfortable and familiar, and Hakoda can’t believe that he gets to feel this safe, this warm, this happy after all the years of war and violence and suffering that they had to live through.

“If the kids are okay with it,” Bato’s chest rumbles as he speaks, tickling Hakoda’s cheek. “Of course I would like to marry you.”

Hakoda smiles into Bato’s chest, feeling giddy like he’s a teenager again. “Okay. We can think about it and talk later.”

Later comes soon than either of them expected, when Hakoda and Sokka end up hiking up a mountain to hunt a polar bear that chased some of the Northern Water Tribe members. Hakoda doesn’t really want to kill it - if the creature wanted the Northerners dead, then they wouldn’t be complaining about the ‘dangerous wilderness’ to Hakoda - but he knows that if the animal ever ends attacking one of the members for real, then he’ll have a crisis on his hands. They take a sled and begin the long trek up the mountain. They’re partway up the mountain when they find one of the caves that mine for engagement stones in, and they decide to take a rest. Hakoda sits down, watching as his son leans his spear against the wall walks deeper into the cave, unsheathing his sword as he goes.

“Don’t go too far, Sokka, we’re not stopping for long.”

“Ugh, I know, dad, I’ll be fine,” Sokka calls back noncommittally. Hakoda sighs and lets him be. He hears some clanging a few minutes later but decides that Sokka is old enough to waste time and energy if he wants. Once he's done resting, Hakoda stands up and is about to call out for Sokka when he comes scurrying back to the entrance. He dashes to one of the cloth bags that sit on the sled, shoves something in it, before going to collect his weapon. Hakoda raises an eyebrow at him and gets a sheepish smile in response.

They find the polar bear a little further up, and after taking it down, load its body onto the sled. They catch a few gopher-hares and collect the few edible plants that have survived so far into the season as they make their way back down. It’s hours later when they finally arrive back in the village, with Sokka needing to run ahead to get more help the lug the bear and the sled across the vast, flat plain of ice that stretched between their village and the base of the mountain. Despite his displeasure in having to hunt the bear, Hakoda looks at it and thinks about how proud he is of his son, how much of an accomplished hunter and provider he’s become, and how this catch will be nice padding for the village’s winter food stock. The fur will make some excellent clothes, and Hakoda is sure that a few of the animal’s claws and teeth will appear on someone’s wrist or neck as jewelry. It’s after they’ve pushed the sled into the village, and various people descend on it and the various bags filled with plants and other animals, that Sokka calls out, “Hey, there’s carving stones in one of those bags, someone give them back to us when you’re done!”

Someone makes an affirmative sound as they prepare to butcher the animal, and Sokka nods and turns to walk away. Hakoda follows him and looks at him strangely. “Why did take carving stones?”

“So you have something to carve for Bato,” Sokka says it as a statement, but looks confused at his father’s asking. “I thought you and Katara talked about you guys getting married?”

Hakoda sputters. “Yeah but we weren’t planning on getting married now .”

Sokka shrugs. “That’s why you gotta plan in the carving time, dad! Carving takes a long time! It takes like three weeks if you don’t chip or crack the stone.”

Hakoda can’t bring himself to agree vocally, so he stares ahead for a few seconds until he realizes, “Wait, how do you know how long carving a necklace takes?”

Sokka flushes and starts walking faster.

“Sokka- Sokka, you are WAY too young to be marrying the Firelord! Sokka, get back here!”

In the end, Kallik, one of the younger men that Hakoda led in the war, brings four rocks, all shades of dark blue to grey, already cleaned of dirt and blood and wrapped in leather, a few days later, smiling slyly as he passes the lumpy package over. “Good luck, Chief!”

Hakoda mumbles a thank you, and hastily tucks the parcel under his arm and puts them in his and Bato’s room. He tells himself it’s not technically hiding if a blanket just happens to fall on top of the container that he’s placed them in, and the container happens to be under a shelf that Bato never looks in. He doesn’t care if Bato finds them, he tells himself, as he pushes them box further into the wall.

He knows that he’ll have to talk to Katara and Bato about this more, will have to make sure everyone is fine with it, and then plan the ceremony, all of which will take a while.

But , he tells himself as he fishes out one of the stones, hiding it in one of his pockets before setting out on his canoe to ‘check the traps’, all of that can happen once I’m closer to finishing this carving .

The first step of necklace carving, Hakoda remembers, is to shape the stone down to a circle-ish shape, breaking off any protrusions off and then shaving pieces off, little by little, until it’s the right shape to actually carve. Hakoda cracks the stone on his first attempt - not unlike he did twenty years ago when he was carving Kya’s. Hakoda checks the traps and hauls a couple of urchin-crabs back to the village. He drops the broken rock into the sea.

The next week Hakoda goes out to check the guide rope that surrounds the outer wall of the village. One of the children of the village said that the rope had broke in the last wind storm but couldn’t remember where since they had been going out to find otter penguins and had got distracted, and as tedious as it is to walk the entire perimeter of the continuously expanding city, everyone knows that if the rope is broken, then there’s a chance someone could get lost in a blizzard. Hakoda volunteers, since everyone else is so busy. Bato offers to come with him, but Hakoda waves him off.

“Your arm has been hurting you,” Hakoda says in the doorway to their igloo. Bato rolls his eyes.

“Doesn’t stop me from walking.”

“Just stay here, love.” Hakoda stretches up, Bato leans down automatically, and Hakoda places a kiss on his lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

He finds the break in the rope just a few minutes past the entrance, ties the pieces together, and continues walking around the perimeter, fishing a new stone out of his pocket.

The second step to necklace carving, once the stone is the correct shape and dimensions, is planning. Each necklace is meant to be unique, meant to represent the recipient and the shared love of the couple. But, the design also depends on the stone, on what the medium will allow. Hakoda is trying to gouge out a tall, deep line in the rock, meant to represent the tall trees of the earth kingdom that surrounded them, that Bato was so impressed by, and under which they first admitted their feelings for each other. He presses either too hard or at the wrong angle, and it splinters, a piece of it chipping off. Hakoda sighs and tosses the broken mineral in one of the tiny ice fishing holes that they use to teach children how to dig through the ice. There are no other breaks in the rope.

Bato goes off to help repair some boats - even with an arm that occasionally seizes up, he’s still one of the best boatsmen in the tribe - and once all of Hakoda’s meetings are done for the day, he’s left with an empty igloo and a few more hours until Bato is likely to return. Hakoda pulls out the second to last stone that he has and starts to carve.

The third step in carving a necklace is to create the eye that either the metal or leather bail will go through to connect it to the choker. It’s not particularly hard, but it’s time-consuming, twisting a blade or tool in circles for hours until it breeches the other side.

The fourth step is connecting it to the leather choker. The fifth step is presenting it.

Hakoda finishes step three, looks at his carving and hates it. The tall lines of what is meant to be a forest seem crooked and nonsensical, the swirls at the bottom barely register as waves, and there are knife marks around the eye look intentional instead of accidental and confuse the setting. It looks sloppy and bad, and even if Bato will accept it happily, Hakoda's stomach turns at the thought of presenting something so poorly crafted to him. He groans and throws it to the side of the room.

He doesn’t know if carving Kya’s necklace was easier or if he just repressed how hard it was from his memories. It all seems silly, all the stress when he and Bato are perfectly happy as is. He wonders if he should just forget it, just give it up, let good things stay as they are. Except.

Except he knows that underneath his reasonable tone, and understanding air, Bato wants to marry him. Hakoda doesn’t know what he did in a past life, what spirit he worshiped or what king he saved, but he must have done something because in his life he’s had two great loves and both of them wanted to marry him.

You know the only person I’ll ever want to marry is you.

Bato wants and asks for so little. He wants Hakoda to lay next to him as they sleep, he wants Hakoda to help him rub his shoulder, he wants Hakoda to go fishing with him, he wants Hakoda to not ask about kids or his body or his medication, he wants Hakoda to kiss him in the privacy of their home and hold his hand for a few minutes when they walk outside. Bato wants Hakoda to marry him, and like all the other open secrets about himself, he’ll never tell Hakoda outright, leaving him to put together the clues together until he can find out how to make Bato happy.

Hakoda is pretty sure that’s all he wants, really; to make Bato happy. He deserves it.

He hears Bato stomping the snow off his boots as he walks into their home. Hakoda sighs, and gets up, collects the rock he threw and slips it into his pocket. He goes to greet his lover, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s torso under the gist of ‘warming him up’, even though his parka was plenty warm, and thinks about how he has one more stone left.

He swears that he’s not trying to put it off, but Hakoda figures he should talk to his family before he moves forward. He talks to Katara to make sure she’s still ‘okay’ with the prospect of him marrying Bato. She gives somewhat the same answer, though she concedes, “You guys are pretty much married already, so…”

Sokka is already enthusiastic about it, though Hakoda is pretty sure that’s just because a wedding ceremony is an as good excuse as any to invite all their friends back. Privately, Sokka finally admits to Hakoda that he thinks mom would have wanted her two best friends to be happy, even, or maybe especially if it’s with each other.

He talks to Kanna, even if traditionally that’s meant to be Bato’s job. Hakoda figures Kanna is the closest thing Bato has left to a mother. As expected, Kanna is fine with it, thinks it’s a bit silly that Hakoda seems to stress about what’s clearly a sure thing. Hakoda doesn’t know how to explain to his mom that even if it’s a sure thing, even if Bato will say yes if Hakoda hands him a piece of clay attached to a string, he wants it to be right. He wants Bato to look back at their engagement and feel satisfied and fulfilled.

Hakoda is still nervous about carving but the unbearable pressing of anxiety has lifted some. The last stone left is a dark grey-blue, less glossy than the other prospective stones, and more opaque. Hakoda begins to carve it during the dead of winter when everyone in the village only spends a few hours a day outside, and they only step foot outside the village if completely necessary. This means that much of his secrecy of the matter is gone, but whether Bato is intentionally staying out in the main area of their igloo during the day, or if he’s there because the fire there is warmer than their bedroom, Hakoda doesn’t know. He sits on their bed of furs, trying to keep his swears quiet as he chips and carves away at the stone. The sounds of Bato just a room over, speaking to Katara and Sokka, laughing at their jokes, and going about his day seems to calm Hakoda's nerves and steady his hands.

It takes him less time than his previous attempts. He’s limited the lines of the trees to just two vertical ones, one slightly taller than the other. The waves at the bottom now have mirrored swirls at the top, land sandwiched between sea and sky. Hakoda is more carful carving out the eye of the pendant and is surprised when he actually adores it when it’s finished. He carves some designs into some whale teeth and polar bear claws, knowing that even though the addition of bone will make the necklace more noticeable overall, it’ll draw some of the attention away from the pendant, and he suspects that Bato will appreciate the small amount of privacy and intimacy that will afford him.

Hakoda knows that Bato knows what he’s doing. The way he smiles when he sees Hakoda retreat into their bedroom after he’s done working for the day, the way he sees the new callouses and cuts on Hakoda’s fingers and doesn’t ask where they came from, only presses small kisses onto them because he knows it’ll make Hakoda smile. If Hakoda wasn’t certain before, when he finds a piece of spare leather - raggedy and unusable - but cut to a specific and familiar length, just casually laying on Hakoda’s desk, it’s confirmation.

He gets a new leather band, of course, one that’s just slightly thicker than traditional, soft on the inside and tanned a deep, dark blue. He punches the holes for the bones with Bato leaning over his shoulder, telling him where he wants a tooth and where he wants a claw. Neither of them mentions how the centre of the leather is left blank for now.

Their engagement is nothing like Hakoda and Kya’s was. Hakoda proposed to Kya in the spring and they got married in the summer; he had asked while they were outside, basking in the sun, and with some of Kya’s friends peering around igloos to watch as the scene unfolded. Hakoda had stuttered, had proclaimed his love for Kya, had made her laugh as he helped her place Kanna’s necklace around her neck.

In contrast, winter has only just started to end, the sky only just barely brightening for about an hour or so each day, before it plunges back into darkness. All of their friends are either dead, in the Northern Water tribe, or busy with their own families. Hakoda doesn’t even ask Bato, not really, he just slides the finished necklace across the table, ignoring the way Sokka and Katara gape at it. Bato looks at it and smiles, gingerly picks it up and ties the leather around his neck. He asks Katara to make sure the knot is secure, and Hakoda’s heart soars when she readily gets up, moves Bato’s hair to the side and readjusts it. The necklace sits at the base of his neck, the teeth and claws sprawl across his collarbones in the most delectable way, and the pendant sits flat on his chest, looking so natural and casual, that Hakoda can trick himself into thinking it’s always been there.

Bato looks happy wearing his necklace, he looks comfortable when his hand gets finding its way to the pendant, nails finding all the groves and uneven surfaces that Hakoda couldn’t smooth away.

There are few opportunities for anyone else to see it, with as cold and dark as it is. Even inside some of the newly build halls and offices, most people still wear an outer coat, to fight off any chill that passes through the complex halls, designed to keep the wind from blowing straight in. But the few who do see it get a sly grin on their face, wiggle their eyebrows and give Bato a playful nudge.

“Finally making an honest man out of Hakoda, huh?” Some people joke and even Hakoda can’t help but laugh.

“More honest than you, at least.” Bato sometimes fires back, earning a gasp of fake insult.

They’re busy, Hakoda and Bato, the village, their children, the whole world, and weddings take time. Hakoda asks Sokka and Katara if they have a preference for when the wedding is. They hem and haw for a while, before tentatively asking if it can wait until spring.

“Zuko won’t be able to visit for long if there’s not enough sun,” Sokka mentions shyly. Hakoda shoots him a look that he hopes reads as We Will Be Speaking About You Dating This Firebender Soon But Not Right Now. Sokka dutifully looks away.

Later as Bato is laying down next to Hakoda in bed, Hakoda asks, “Are you okay if we wait until spring?”

Bato shrugs. “I’ve waited for decades, I can wait two more months.”

When they sleep, Hakoda can feel the cool press of bone and stone against his cheek. It’s more comforting than he ever thought it could be.

The sun has returned, and with it brings new chores to do, new game to hunt, new responsibilities, and various children that were born during the winter months. There’s plenty to do, and every second of light brings them one second closer to the winter once again. There are boats to build and repair, there are walls that were damaged by wind and snow, there are stocks that need replenishing, and children that need hunting, singing, dancing, fighting, and history lessons.

Hakoda is pretty sure that everyone should be anxiously anticipating the start of all their work.

Instead, everyone is gathered in the new village square - complete with archways and fountains around the sides, columns that hold up a domed roof, and a ground that doesn’t shift when people walk over the same place too many times - throwing decorations on any available surface. The columns have been covered in swathes of fabric and dyed ropes, various beadwork decor has been hung from the ceiling and archways, carved bones have been placed around the area for luck, and good tidings, and just to make the place look interesting. Hakoda isn’t sure if it’s because no one has been out long enough for their clothes to get overly messy, but he’s pretty sure that everyone is dressed up in their more formal coats and boots.

It throws him off guard. Weddings in the Southern Water tribe truly aren’t that grand of an affair, but he assumes that the influx of Northerners has resulted in their more festive approach gaining some traction.

“Or maybe, they’re excited that their chief is getting married.” Bato offers, smiling at Hakoda when he presents his theory. Hakoda smiles back.

“I think I saw some men weeping when they realized they officially lost their shot with you.”

Bato rolls his eyes. “They never had a chance with me.” It’s a joke, and Hakoda wants to laugh, but Bato places a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Hakoda reads between the lines.

He doesn’t tease Sokka about running off with Zuko - the Firelord bundled up in more red and blue fabric that Hakoda has ever seen on him at once - the minute he steps off his ship. He doesn’t tease Katara about the way she shyly kisses Aang when he slides off Appa, before going to help Toph navigate her way across the ice. Bato is excited to see the young earth bender and starts an easy conversation with her and Suki and he leads them around the village, letting Katara go off to hold hands with Aang away from her father’s watchful eye.

They marry a few hours later, with nearly the whole village pressed against each other to watch as the two of them kneel in front of one of the elders, the old woman standing tall and proud in her furs despite the slight hunch she has in her spine.

She asks Bato if Hakoda has presented him with a betrothal necklace.

“Yes,” He says, voice deep and happy, and so soothing, even as dozens of eyes - including Hakoda’s children and their friends - stare at them. He digs the leather and pendant out from under his clothes, allowing the elder to see the design. The elder nods and smiles.

“Do you have a gift to present to your betrothed?” She asks Bato. He nods and pulls out a cloth gift. He hands it to Hakoda, who has to restrain himself from thanking him as he unwraps the fabric. A small gasp escapes him, when he sees the ivory of carved walrus tusk, carved and sharpened into a knife, the leather around the handle soft and worn but well cared for. It was Bato’s father and had been passed down in his family for generations. For a second, Hakoda almost turns to asks if Bato is certain if he wants to give it to him, before realizing that Bato wants it to be Hakoda’s so that it can go to Sokka. Bato wants to pass his family heirloom onto Hakoda’s children, because, and Hakoda’s heart skips a beat when the realization finally hits him, they’ll be the same family.

“Thank you,” Hakoda says a little watery. The woman in front of them takes that as acceptance of the gift.

“And do both of you intend to provide for each other and your family? Will you work together in the light of the summer, collecting what the Spirits give you, and in the darkness of winter, when only Tui smiles upon us?”

Both of them nod, and they hear an excited titter go through the crowd.

“Do either of you have any qualms or objections to your union.” They both shake their heads hastily and Bato’s necklace clicks and clacks as he moves his head. The excitement in the crowd grows as the elder clears her throat and calls, “And does the tribe accept this marriage?”

The crowd erupts with excitement, Hakoda can just filter out his own children cheering, Aang’s ‘whooping’ and Toph’s cackling at the sound. People clap and shout, and he and Bato can’t help but look at each other and laugh at the commotion. The Northerners have definitely spread their own modified traditions throughout the village. The elder in front of them works to control her own smile as she waits for the noise to settle.

“The tribe has acknowledged this union. Chief Hakoda, Bato, you are now wed.”

The cheering starts up again and Hakoda and Bato stand up, holding each other’s hand tightly. Hakoda surges up and presses a kiss to Bato’s lips, earning more cheers and a few whistles, and an exaggerated gag from Sokka, and grins when Bato blushes and pushes him lightly.

Hakoda can already tell that they’ll have to just write this day off, judging by excited energy that comes and goes through the crowd like waves. Hakoda wouldn’t be surprised if he found some people passing around fermented wine. He barely cares though, when he looks up to Bato and sees him smiling wider than Hakoda has ever seen him before.

He’s still gripping Hakoda’s hand, still blushing from the kiss and all the attention, and Hakoda can’t stop himself from leaning up and kissing him again. Bato doesn’t push him away this time, even though his flush gets darker.

“Worth the wait?” Hakoda asks.

Bato nods. “Yeah. It was pretty worth it.”

#m #bakoda #bakoda fleet week #my fic #hakoda #bato #bakoda fic

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m00nlitknight · 4 years ago

Text

emergency contact.

fandom: IT (2017) -- in a more modern setting pairing: henry bowers / reader ( gender neutral ) word count: 2.4k+ warnings: hospitals. foot & shoulder injuries. past relationships. henry being a bit of an asshole but also just grumpy cos he was awoken. taglist: @rvf3 extra: based a lot off of a dialogue prompt i fount while perusing pinterest! sorry my updates have been so bad lately but i hope you like this ♡ thank you for reading! + masterlist.

Responsibility. Gained through years of maturing with the understanding that sacrifices must be made. Giving up things one is used to doing to in turn be given an inkling of consideration for worthiness and respect in the eyes of the world.

To you, it meant having to give up the adrenaline-rush of teenagerdom that came in the form of a backwards sleep schedule in comparison to those around you for being able to work. A sacrifice which you were more than willing to take, mainly for being able to reap the monetary rewards.

So you did what you’d grown used to, a dull routine you’d come to dub ‘the baby steps into adulthood,’ which began with going to bed at a reasonable hour. You settled in, read until your eyelids became too heavy to bear, and dozed off with the stars as your voyeur. It was a peaceful slumber, until your phone - at full volume - rang into the still and night-stale air.

You awoke with a start, jolting with tenseness before sighing and relaxing. Your hand, groggy and zombie-like, padded around your bedside table for the cellphone, eyes still mashed into the pillow to try and soften the attack of the senses that came in the form of a shrill and default ringtone.

Finally, by the third ring, you managed to grip it and drag it to your ear. “Hello?” your voice was thick and gravel-like, coming out in a deep murmur you were hardly able to register yourself.

“Hello, are we reaching,” the voice on the other side came out clear and feminine, despite the underlying tiredness that went under your own radar. She paused momentarily, before saying your name with a questioning tone.

“Yes…? Who is this?” whether it be the professionalism shown by the woman or the alarm of being awoken in the dead of night by someone who knew your name.

“Fantastic, this is Derry Home Hospital and we’re reaching you on account of Henry Bowers signing you as his emergency contact.”

“Huh?”

“Would...would you like me to repeat that?”

“No -- no, I’ll be down there as quickly as possible, thank you for calling.”

“Alright, thank you for your cooperation, and see you soon,” with that the woman was gone, leaving you to quickly ruminate over what the hell Henry had done.

Your history with him wasn’t exactly tidy, having gone through an on-again off-again relationship throughout highschool, mostly being left by him due to your ‘overly emotional’ nature. However, these were mostly after arguments and fights initiated by him for petty reasons. Eventually, after you’d graduated and found yourself on that mid-June morning, all contact with him had been reduced to some times you’d saw him in public. You’d cast a gaze his way, then quickly do anything and everything in your power to either appear busy or disappear completely.

Groaning, you dragged yourself from bed, and did your best to work with getting ready in a timely fashion. Truth be told, you honestly did not want to come face-to-face with the guy you’d been successfully avoiding for the past month. But, when fate came ringing on your phone, what were you able to do? Sighing through your nose, in the haze of a rude awakening, you pulled on the most comfortable but presentable clothing you could find, inclusive of a flannel, tank top, and pair of sweatpants. Considering the shape these people had seen in the past, they could bear to see your tired eyes and laziness.

Before heading out the door, you briefly brushed your teeth, grabbed a water bottle, your keys, and wallet containing identification. Though you hadn’t glanced at any clocks, you could deduce that it was the early morning, just before the sun was getting ready to come over the horizon. Dark and starless.

The drive wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but you couldn’t really call it a tranquil drive, either. What had Henry wound up doing? Why was he in the hospital? Was he gravely injured? Where the fuck were his friends? Even if it had felt like a wash of panic was coming over you, it was undeniably far less intense then the first two times you’d been called as his emergency contact. Whatever the reason, he kept putting you down, practically claiming you as the most important and safest person in his life.

Fellow headlights were few and far between on the road, streetlights illuminating further then what your own car was doing for you. Eventually, the fluorescent lighting of the hospital came into view, attracting you like an unfortunate moth to it.

Pulling into a space, you sighed in preparation of the worst. The last two times you’d been there for him, he had been drugged up and nearly impossible to understand. No matter what he looked like, you just hoped that he was going to be a tolerable presence. With that thought, you headed into the main doors to reception.

“Hello,” you greeted, timid and taking a brief moment to hear your voice bounce against the walls and let your voice register. “I, uh, was called as an emergency contact for my friend?”

“Oh, yes, are you here for Mr. Bowers?” as she spoke, you registered her voice to be that of the nurse on the other side.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s me.”

“His room number is number forty-four, I’ll show you to it,” she said, getting up and showing you down the pristine and sterile hallways. On the way there, you take note of the few turns and landmarks that may need to navigate later. She stepped into another room, one meant to house multiple patients, but with all but one bed empty. “Here you are, another nurse will be seeing you shortly for his discharge.”

You padded further into the room, getting a good look at your peer laying on the bed, appearing to be fast asleep. “Henry?” You called out to him, the volume a bit of a strain against the tiredness practically coating your entire mind.

He awoke with a jolt, head jerking over to you with a scowl before softening slightly. “Oh. S’just you,” through the initial distaste you could feel a faint sense of relief from him.

“Yeah, just me,” you took a seat at his bedside. “What’d you do?”

“Right out the gate with the questions, huh?”

“Yep. Now what’d you do, Hen?”

“Broke my foot ‘n dislocated a shoulder. It was a fuckin’ blur how it all happened, so I don’t really remember all the fine details….my friends left me here, though.”

“Don’t they always,” you mumbled, taking a second to glance down at your phone and allowed your thoughts to flow into your focus. 4:22 a.m. It was likely you wouldn’t be able to get back to bed. Should you call in, allow yourself to take a day off? Or should you rely on the power of caffeine and power through it?

“What happened t’us?” his voice cut through the ebb and flow of the silence, the sound alone startling you into the present.

“Huh?”

“It’s like we saw each other every day then jus’ -- stopped,” his brows knit together as you looked to him, confusion blooming on each of your features, but with different origins.

“I don’t...I don’t know?”

“Neither do I...I miss it. I miss you ‘n the way or you made me feel,” his face contorted further, like he was trying to solve a complicated math problem. You shifted in your seat awkwardly and casted your gaze anywhere but him once again.

“I...I guess we just sorta fell off, Hen--”

“Don’t use that fuckin’ nickname with me,” he snapped, looking to you with a sudden harsh tone. “S’been, what? Two months since you spoke to me, four since y’last took the time to look at me?”

You sank into the depths of your seat when his ire-filled gaze turned to you. Whatever words you had to say to him had long since died within your throat, not that any of them came with any type of maliciousness. If you were able to be honest with yourself, you were somewhat surprised he hadn’t taken a more direct action to garner your attention in the months prior, and had instead taken the route to laying whatever you two had to an incomplete, and admittedly unsatisfactory, end.

“I’m sorry,” you were hardly able to muster, instead taking to fiddling with the long sleeves of the flannel you had. Was there always an accent of red on the otherwise grayscale plaid color scheme?

He scoffed, rotating his uninjured shoulder and shifting in his bed. “All y’can say is a ‘sorry’? Shit, dude, I’d’a thought’cha to have more fight in ya.”

In the back of your mind, the snark of you had recalled the time to account for the lack of so-called fight within.

You sighed outwardly, once again, and dragged a hand down your face. “Do you have anywhere to stay tonight, Henry?”

“Psh, old man’ll kill me if I barge in at fuck-all hours like this.” No work today afterall.

“You wanna stay at my place? You can take my bed.”

“Really? Y’think I’m finally good enough to take a place in your bed, princess?”

“Careful,” you snap back, voice having taken on a sudden warning to its tone. “You sound like Hockstetter. Don’t let his weird shit get to your head, Henry.”

“Oh, so you suddenly give a fuck about me ‘n who influences me, huh? Fuck you think you are, my parent?”

“No, I just--” You were cut off by a nurse stepping into the room.

“Mr. Bowers?” He started, looking between the two of you with an air of caution. “You’re free to go, just stop by the desk on your way out. Would you like help getting into your wheelchair?”

“No,” he nearly barked back and shifted to move from the bed.

“Thank you,” you said quickly, getting up to help your friend from the bed when the nurse awkwardly shuffled from the room. You didn’t scold your friend, even if how Henry had treated the nurse didn’t sit particularly well with you, the thought of another argument seemed to be on the horizon if you did.

He practically flung himself into the wheelchair with a grunt, pointing impatiently at the boot at the foot of his bed. “Don’t forget about my boot.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you had said, voice truly devoid of any emotion whilst you grabbed your things to make a quick departure. The quicker you could get home, the quicker you’d be able to fall back into sleep.

The discharging process proved itself less strenuous then you feared, only really consisting of yourself zoning out and Henry writing down his address - albeit, with the caveat of anything especially legible due to his dominant hand being injured. At his prompting, and being drug involuntarily into reality once again, you wheeled him to your car and watched him struggle into the passenger seat. You knew better then to offer help when he only wanted to keep up his ‘tough man’ act. Silently, you put the wheelchair away and rushed back to your car.

It felt like the times when you were in a relationship with him all over again, something that settled uncomfortably onto your shoulders once you sat down in the driver’s seat and buckled your seatbelt. “Buckle in,” you said, while starting to back out.

“Fuck off,” he snapped back. You started driving in silence once again.

Both hands on the wheel. The radio was drowned out by the engine. You could nearly call it romantic had it been any situation when the two of you were infatuated with one another. Running away and eloping under the moonlight, like you’d babbled about a few nights at the peak of your heart swelling for him. Meaningless and empty words and fantasies of helping him from the predicament that was Derry. It wrenched your heart, really, when you first met him. Just a broken guy who maybe you could help out in some ways. Maybe it was selfish of you. Whatever.

The air felt stale and uncomfortable on the drive back, and it felt like an eternity before you pulled back into your driveway. You glanced at the clock in your car. 5:00 a.m. The sun was beginning to awaken, dusk starting to take ahold of the sky.

“How the hell am I gonna get you inside,” you murmured when you looked over to Henry, who stared blankly back at you.

“I’unno how well crutches would work since my shoulder ‘n all...Jus’ fuckin’ uh...help me to the door ‘n we’ll figure it out from there? Y’still got that office chair, right?”

You nodded, opening the door and getting out. You strolled up the pathway to your own door before going back to help the boy out of the car. It was entirely too awkward, the way he threw an arm around you and leaned nearly all his weight on you. The way you put an arm around your waist. It brought back the past in the oddest way possible. God, you wanted this to be over more than anything.

Many grunts and swears and a chair ride through hardwood floored rooms later, Henry laid in your bed and the front door went back to its closed and locked default. If you had the energy in you, you would’ve sneered at the very idea of Henry fucking Bowers in your bed sullying your newly washed sheets. Though, you could only stare for a few moments before beginning to gather things to sleep on your couch.

“Why?” you asked as he stared at the ceiling.

“Why what?”

“Why do you keep putting me down as your emergency contact? Don’t your friends know how to do that shit?”

“They’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“Bein’ fuckin’ adults’r somethin’, you done with the damn questions?”

“Yep. See’ya, sleep well.”

You shuffled from the room, setting the couch up and staring at the ceiling to mirror his position. The morning shaped itself to be odd. While you dozed back off, you remembered the feeling of how it managed to turn out; it was uncomfortable. You didn’t hate it, you didn’t like it, but you surely didn’t love it. Henry bowers coming back into your life already felt odd, obviously, but he felt like just another part of high school you were supposed to leave behind. Did you really want to leave him completely behind?

#it 2017 #it 2017 fanfiction #henry bowers #henry bowers x reader #henry bowers imagine #writing.txt #ah yea babey

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big-bad-ulf · 4 years ago

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Aftermath || Layla & Ulfric

Timing: Late, Sunday 21st of June, following this. Parties: @laylacooke, @big-bad-ulf Summary: Ulfric helps Layla patch things up after her hypnosis is broken, and a new understanding between the two is reached. Warnings: Medical blood, sibling death mentions

Layla remained huddled in the corner as she watched Ariana get up and leave the room. Her body shook with a mixture of so many emotions; emotions that seemed to be keeping her mind occupied and away from the open claw marks that were bleeding again and the other bruises and cuts that plagued her body. The chains around her ankles had begun to dig in, cutting off the circulation, and the chair was digging into her side. Nothing mattered though. Nothing mattered but the pain she had felt on the inside of her heart and mind, and she didn’t know how she was going to move forward with anything anymore.

Rushing into the trailer, Ulfric’s stomach turned at the sight of Layla still chained. A tied-up, helpless was something he’d hoped to never see again after the incident with Ariana, let alone be responsible for. But responsibility had driven him towards many strange things in recent months, especially where Layla was concerned. How much of the harm he’d caused her for her own protection, did she remember? The old wolf wondered, unable to meet her eyes as he crossed the room and retrieved the key to the restraints. “Let’s get you out of here,” he murmured to her, as he began undoing the locks, manacles first. “You’re bleeding.” It was a statement, the scent of blood old and new that emanated from her small form was strong, even this close to the new moon, which meant the wounds she’d sustained were more than trivial. “Tell me where it hurts worst, I’ll help you get patched up.”

When she heard the man come in, Layla further pushed herself tighter into the corner. Ulf had already made her nervous before the fidget spinner had ever entered her life, and now, here she was, after making his life so much harder, scared for the reaction he was going to have; memories of her own father coming to mind after he would punish her for not doing what was asked of her or not learning what she was required to for the life path they had arranged for her. She had flinched when he reached out to unchain her, but seeing he meant no harm, she loosened up, “M-My head.” The words were meek and quiet. She couldn’t even think about the physical wounds, but it did feel nice to not have chains binding her or a chair cutting into her small form anymore.

Her head. “Right, sorry about that,” Ulfric replied lamely, looking up from where he’d unfastened the chains around her ankles, slightly regretting having asked when it should have been obvious that would be the case after he’d brained her with a rock. “Hang on a moment,” he instructed, rising swiftly to head to the kitchen. “It might help to stretch your limbs, but slowly. Don’t overexert yourself,” he called as he rifled through the cabinet. He could only imagine the toll days of repeated physical struggles and multiple layers of mental manipulation had taken on her, and the last thing he wanted was for her to hurt herself further in her eagerness to be free of her restraints. Finding the first aid kit, he washed his hands thoroughly before retrieving a pair of rubber gloves from inside and slipping them on, carrying the rest of the container and its contents over to the young wolf.

“If you could sit still for me, Layla.” His voice was even and soft as someone as gruff as he could hope to achieve, signaling the words were a request, not a demand. Moving her hair gently away from the spot that was dampest with blood, Ulfric saw the wound across her scalp was cleanly edged, luckily the blow he’d delivered her with the makeshift weapon had been precise. “This could use a few stitches.” He informed her, trying to meet her gaze to seek permission before going any further. “I’m well-versed at this. I always had the steadiest hands of all my siblings, and they gave me plenty of occasions to practice.” He’d meant to reassure her, but it was quickly turning to rambling to fill the pained silence. “Though given the location, even if I did a poor job, no one would see the scar.”

Layla continued to shake from the overwhelming feeling that was plaguing her right now. However, she still managed to do as instructed, though her legs and feet didn’t allow her to push them out with much speed anyways with how painful everything seemed to be. But, even through the discomfort, Layla was feeling relief. And she was even finding it a little easier to release some of the tension and fear she held being in the trailer alone with Ulf; assuming Ariana had already left.

She watched as he returned and kneeled down to meet her height. With all that was going on in her head and her heart, she couldn’t find fault with Ulf for what he had done. In fact, there was no telling what might have happened or where she would be right now, if he hadn’t stopped her.

Watching him, as he slowly pushed her hair out of the way, she remained quiet, until she noticed his eyes trained on her own. With a silent nod, she allowed the man permission to stitch her up, and quickly let her gaze fall. It took her a moment to formulate the words she was looking for, but with what little courage that was currently tucked deep inside of her, Layla spoke, “I’m sorry. For all of it. For putting you and Ariana in the middle of all of this when you both just lost Celeste.” Her voice was shaky and quiet, but her apology, sincere.

Ulfric let her hair fall back in place, doubling back to retrieve the bottle of akvavit liquor from above the top of the cabinet and offering it to her. “Here, have a sip to take the edge off. I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.” Leaving the bottle in her hands for her to decide, he resumed his place standing by her side and threaded the needle. “You’re not the first one here to put your family in danger because you didn’t know how to cope with your grief,” he informed her, finally circling back to address her apology. “I had a younger brother and sister, Ingvar and Hild. Hunters murdered them the first time they were sent to gather supplies from the human settlement on their own. Hild was barely 15…” he trailed off, surprised by how much detail was flowing from him when he usually avoided talking about this topic at all, but he thought the story it might take her mind some of the physical pain she was experience and he saw so much of himself at her age in how she’d handled things. Perhaps that’s why he’d struggled to connect with her even after he no longer feared her running off to old hunter contacts with their location, it was always hard to look at a reflection of your own flaws.

“I didn’t even wait until we’d performed their funeral rites to track the hunters down and avenge them,” he continued, emotion in his voice restrained as he focused on his work, closing the head wounds with small, steady, close together stitches, “one of the hunters had a day job, though. A high-profile diplomat. The attention from the hunter community and human media alike was... intense. I’d put everything I had left in the world at risk, because I couldn’t bear to sit with what I was feeling long enough to come up with a smarter plan or even figure out what the hell I’d be running into.” He sighed and tied off the thread, cutting it loose close to the skin with a small pair of scissors. “All this to say, you’re already forgiven, as far as I’m concerned,” Ulfric continued, wiping away the blood on her scalp with antiseptic, still looking at her wounds more than her. Finding it was easier that way to say what he was thinking and not have it come out in the wrong way like it had in the past. “And I’m sorry too. For what I’ve said. The way I’ve said it. There’s too few of us left to be pushing each other away.”

She watched as the man once again left only to return with a bottle of hard alcohol. Taking it in her hands, she didn’t hesitate to open it and take a long slow drink. The liquid burned and it made her cough fiercely, but she could already feel the effects of it numbing parts of her body she didn’t want to feel. However, what Layla didn’t expect, while she apprehensively watched Ulf thread a needle, remembering the last time she was sewn up by Celeste and how much it hurt, was that he was about to divulge his life’s story. And with one more quick sip of the drink, she capped the bottle and settled in for what he was about to tell her.

As he explained in detail, of what happened to his family, Layla could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Her head was already throbbing, and she was dehydrated and worn down, but the fact that Ulfric was opening up to her, like he was, meant so much. With everything she had done, she didn’t feel worthy of being considered anything, much less important enough to anyone that they would tell her something so personal. The relationship with Ulfric had been a rocky one from the first day they met, but in this moment, he was making her feel more accepted at a time when she had felt so hopeless. It had also distracted her from him tending to the wound on her head.

“I...I’m so sorry that happened to you and your family, Ulf.” She looked at him. Her eyes connected with his for the briefest of seconds, just to let him know how sorry she was, before she looked back down, “My history is complicated, and because of that, I judged you before I got to really know you, because of the things my,” She paused thinking about her parents and all they had done, “mother and father did to discipline me. I passed that judgment onto you, because you scared me, and that wasn’t fair. But I see how kind you’ve been to Ariana and...Celeste, and I’d like to start over if we can…” She looked down at the bottle, thumbing at the cap.

Ulfric tensed at the mention of discipline. He knew something of that too. Of nights spent huddled with his siblings in the cellar waiting for signs of his parents’ return, only for them to throw a disorientated but armed hunter down with them and lock the door. He’d learned to make snap judgments about hunters in order to survive, and it was hard to shake those instincts off, even in the light of new evidence. Ulfric saw now that it must have been similar for Layla with werewolves, though the thought that their upbringings bore any similarities was too disquieting for him to voice it aloud. “Yes, I’d like that. We can start on a new cycle, or at least a new phase of one,” he agreed instead. He left her side to return to the kitchen again to return with another offering, in this case, a small tin canister with a glass top revealing a fine powder within. “On that note, I’ve been meaning to give you this,” the older werewolf passed it to her. “There didn’t seem to be a good moment, on your birthday. It’s called Aram, I have it on good authority it’ll bring you nothing but pleasant dreams.” That’s how Morgan had explained it when he’d brought Ariana to stay with her and Deirdre. It had taken him a while to find it, but fortunately, the owner of Eye of Newt had taken pity on a lost looking werewolf and helped. “You can take it with tea. I think we all deserved a good night’s rest, but you probably need it the most.”

Hearing him agree to start over brought a soft smile to the girl’s face. They had certainly gotten off on the wrong foot, and Layla wanted to make things right. She would work to make things right with him, Ariana, and anyone else she had wronged in White Crest, which at this rate, was half the town. It was going to take a lot of time and energy, but it was the least she could do.

Watching Ulf leave the room once again, she looked to the bottle. The liquid had helped, and she was almost tempted by another drink, but instead, she pushed the glass container further away and was grateful for Ulf’s return. Seeing the small tin in his hand, she reached out for it and let her eyes scan over it. She listened to him describe what it offered, and she couldn’t wait to try it out. Her body was already so weak and longing for a bath and the bed. Probably more so the bed than anything, “Yeah, the only good thing that happened for my birthday was Frankie actually talking to me.” She looked away, her heart aching recalling the way Lucas and Ulf were the only ones willing to speak to her at the party without her having to make the first move. “But thank you. I’m just so ready to sleep. I’m so tired, Ulf. How can I be so tired? I just turned nineteen.” She gripped the small tin tightly longing for what it held. Her eyes were heavy. Blood stained various parts of her body and clothes, but she had finally quit shaking and the tears had subsided.

“Weariness can catch up to anyone,” Ulfric answered her with a dry chuckle. “But one benefit of aging is that these unhappy days will seem shorter and shorter in the span of your life, as you go on.” That was along as she stayed safe, and her life was filled with more happy days than sad in the years to come. But he didn’t want to entertain any other possibility at that moment, worries had already worn him down enough for the time being. “I can brew the tea while you wash up,” he informed her, patting Layla on the shoulder gently. “Then you can sleep as long as you like.”

Layla hoped and prayed her happiness would come sooner rather than later. Laying the small box on the nearby bed, she very cautiously and slowly climbed to her feet. Everything hurt, but she was up, and it was a start, “Yeah. I’d like that.” She nodded, “And this...this is a new start, because I’ll be damned if I’m gonna keep letting the past ruin my life.” It would be hard, no doubt, but if she had wanted that happiness, the teenager was going to have to work for it. A difficult lesson to learn at nineteen, but when had her life ever truly been easy?

#chatzy #layla #aftermath #wickedswriting #medical blood tw #death mention tw #//i would like to sue myself for giving myself feels

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aliceslantern · 5 years ago

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Retribution, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 6

Newly a person again, Ienzo is weighed down by guilt and his humanity. He's prepared to do whatever it takes to atone... only to find unexpected solace in a familiar face. With more insight into the bonds between people than ever before, Ienzo reaches for a dangerous element from the past to help Kairi and Riku in their search for Sora. What is his life if it means saving another, brighter light?

Chapter summary: Ienzo grows closer to Demyx, but that closeness quickly becomes a confounding variable.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

He tried to let himself grow . He spent those few hours in the lab, with Even and Ansem and Kairi. Dutifully, he continued to feed himself and sleep the requisite eight hours. He practiced normal black magic, unrelated to his power. Occasionally, considering they were now “friends,” he spent time with Demyx.

Ienzo wasn’t sure if he were simply unused to casual conversation, or if Demyx were truly eccentric. He did have quite a lot of amusing stories about his customers, as well as Scrooge, who was by all accounts quite the character. So slowly, Ienzo began to stop seeing their relationship as it used to be, and began seeing it as it was. After all, Demyx was one of the only people he knew roughly his age.

They walked, got lunch and endless cups of coffee. Ienzo found himself… looking forward to it, whenever Demyx asked him to meet up, rather than dreading those texts. A handful of times he accompanied Demyx on deliveries, and found to his surprise that he was indeed competent at his job. Scrooge tried to rope Ienzo into porting as well, in his own jovial, oddly-accented way, and he had to evade out of the conversation quickly.

But beneath these pieces… something else began to emerge, something Ienzo initially confused for companionship, or kinship. A warmth, a start of the heart. He no longer minded when Demyx touched him casually in conversation--a hand on the shoulder, a playful punch, a “hey come on” take of the hand when going somewhere. The touch… evoked something in him, vague and weirdly insidious.

Ienzo began to notice things.

The subtle way his hair blended, brown to blonde, the way he seemed to be so slowly growing it into something different. The precise color green his eyes turned when light hit them just right. How easily he moved through space, how comfortable he was in his own body. The way his lips moved when he spoke, the rhythm of his speech.

Why was it Ienzo was focusing on these things? What did it mean?

On the verge of sleep, weighed down by one of his pills, it came to him.

Oh. Oh no.

In his brief hours in the lab he was distracted, terrified. He thought he’d understood this as a Nobody, but it was clear he’d had no idea.

His humanity was waking up. So were… other things.

Demyx had mentioned a desire for a partner of some sort. Unlikely at the time he’d meant Ienzo. Ienzo had written all of that off as too difficult to compute. He figured he may be asexual and was fine with that. He’d no need for anything physical. Messy. Complicated.

He… was not asexual.

Ienzo began to feel something almost like a pull, between them. A desire for that innocent touch, a squeeze of the hand. Was it possible he felt this way because, again, Demyx was the only person he knew his age? It seemed natural that, with the awakening of these feelings, he’d latch onto whoever was closest.

It made him feel pathetic, and not quite in control of himself, not that he changed his outward interactions. If emotions were difficult to reign, hormones were completely impossible. He started having vague dreams of longing--arguably worse than the nightmares--and woke up frustrated in a wholly new way. Difficult, and embarrassing, to be finishing puberty at this age. He said nothing about it to anyone. Those few times he woke to find stains on his sheets and clothing, he took care of it and pretended nothing happened.

Why did this have to be happening now ? Of all the confounding variables?

Ienzo needed to ride out this attraction until its inevitable end. To even entertain the idea of anything more substantial than quickly-quashed daydreams was insane. So, sweetly he asked Even if, considering he’s feeling so much better , he may add a few more hours to his day, and thank you so much for the medicine . Ego stroked and paternity soothed, Even agreed. With his remaining hours, he began so tentatively to work on his power.

He could still manipulate the lexicon with relative ease, so that had been gained. Finding the illusion was going to be so much harder. He spent hours trying to recall how that felt, to create things where there was nothing, then trying to draw simple objects from memory. And they were drawings, barely-perceptible flickerings in the air, but the exertion still made him gasp for breath. Though it was progress. At least Ienzo had something to tell Kairi and Riku when he saw them face to face, or over the phone. At least he could give them hope.

But Demyx wasn’t that easy to brush off. “Zo, are you ignoring me?” he asked. His tone was joking, but Ienzo felt vaguely caught. (And vaguely angry that “Zo” was growing on him.)

“I’ve been taking a few more hours since I’ve been doing better,” he said.

“You’re not… pushing it too hard, are you?” he asked.

“I’m trying not to.” And he was; with magic use, he needed to be doubly careful how he treated his body.

Was it the light, or did he blush? “I miss our hangouts.”

Just the right thing to trip Ienzo up, to make his heart flutter-- it’s merely hormones, control yourself. “As do I.”

“I mean, I know this is like, important, big-picture stuff. But…” He hesitated. “Do you… have time, later? Just to talk?”

The sensible thing to do would be to nicely brush him off. “Maybe a few moments,” he said instead. How strange, to be at odds with his mind. A first.

He smiled. It was a wide, uncontained grin, one that changed his face, made it seem softer. “The greenhouse?”

Ienzo nodded once. “I’ll see you then.”

Only once he had returned to scouring data did he realize that getting both of them together in an enclosed, private space was one of the stupider moves he could’ve made. Demyx had blushed. Demyx had smiled. Was it possible that this… whatever it was… was mutual? Or was Demyx also merely feeling the backlog of hormonal impulses blunted by Nobody biology?

(And did it matter? Would it be so terrible to explore these feelings?)

(Yes, it would. Should it go south--the likely conclusion--they still lived together. He didn’t need more tension in his life.)

Ienzo should’ve made up an excuse that night and stayed in. He didn’t. He was so unused to managing impulses that he simply didn’t . Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

The summer evening was cool, and he could hear the soft chirp of crickets. The air felt nice on his skin, freed at last from that infernal white coat and ascot at the throat. There was already a warm light emanating from the greenhouse, meaning Demyx was already there.

Not too late to turn back.

He took a deep breath. Took two.

The music he heard was soft, meandering, inviting. He’d never really listened to Demyx before when he played sitar, stubbornly tuning it out. Ienzo realized he was rather good , technically and aurally; it sounded light, effortless, the notes graceful and leaping like water. The boy’s power made sense, now. It all flowed.

Demyx wasn’t a scientist, but he was a student in his own ways. Ienzo felt the blood rush to his face. His hands trembled. His own internal protests were quickly waning. He opened the door. “Are you early, or am I late?”

Demyx looked up. The melody didn’t quite cease. “Believe it or not, I can actually be on time.”

“...Sorry about that.”

“I wanted to work on this anyway.”

Ienzo sat on one of the cushions. The space smelled vaguely like incense, a heady but oddly clean scent. “That’s something of your own creation?”

“Yessir.”

“I suppose you were always… composing, creating. Is it very much different, now that you’ve a heart?”

Demyx snorted. “It’s harder.”

Ienzo cocked his head. “Really?”

“It’s easy to… approximate emotion,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “You know, this sounds like love, or anger, or whatever. To really feel those things, and then, say, to try and work on something with a completely different theme, is like wading through concrete.”

Hearing him speak so technically made Ienzo’s blush worsen. He wanted to reach out and take one of his hands. He gripped his ankle in an attempt to stop himself. “Have you been at this long?”

Demyx chuckled. “At least five years. Probably before that, I would guess, but… there’s nothing.” His expression changed, became wistful.

“Still? After all this time?”

He let the sitar vanish. The silence was particularly notable. “Yeah. I…” A laugh. “I had Even look at me. Neurologically, I think it’s called? There’s nothing… physical about the memory loss. So it must’ve been… whatever brought me here, from the past.”

“Forgive me… I quite forgot that’s the truth of your life.” Even had told him as such, scowlingly, in disbelief.

Demyx shrugged. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. Sometimes I forget.”

“Do you want your memories?”

He leaned back on his hands. “I go back and forth,” he said. “On the one hand, not knowing about the trauma that’s, uh, for sure there is awesome. On the other… it’s like… who am I really, you know?”

“I remember everything, and I feel much the same,” Ienzo said softly.

His smile was sad now. He reached into a crate and pulled out two bottles.

“Beer?”

“Nah. I hate beer. Cider. It’s sweet. Want it?”

Ienzo doubted one drink would kill him. “...Why not.”

He popped the top for him. “Ha. That’s the spirit. I mean. You are legal.”

He scoffed a little. The drink was fizzy, sweet and also metallic. It was a taste of summer, he thought. “I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you this is my first real drink.”

“Really?”

“...I was too young. Then, I never wanted to… cloud my mind.” Ienzo sighed. “I wouldn’t mind taking the edge off things.”

Demyx laughed a little. “Hate to break it to you, but I only have the two and I doubt you’ll get turnt off that.”

“...You’re probably right.”

“Maybe you and me could go to the bar some time. Try it out.”

He looked into the mouth of the brown bottle. “Not sure nightlife is for me.”

“You never know until you try something.”

“I… suppose I should never say never.” After all, he’d never thought he’d like sitting here with Demyx, their knees almost touching. “Maybe. Yes, that might be nice.”

For a few moments they finished their drinks in silence. He definitely wasn’t drunk, or even tipsy, but he did feel a little warm. The lantern cast softened the room, almost pinkish. Perhaps it was the memories of calm here, perhaps it was the ambiance or simply not being alone, but Ienzo found himself… relaxing. The sudden lack of tension in his muscles felt strange. “I remember why I used to love this place. It’s very calming.”

“On a good day you can see the stars,” Demyx said. “Look. Here.” He reached over and snuffed out the lantern. “Lay back.”

The cushions were odd, lumpy. It wasn’t totally dark; there was enough moonlight for the silhouettes to be clear. Ienzo looked up through the crystal ceiling. “Been a while since I looked up,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“The feeling of insignificance. But it’s surprisingly reassuring.”

“You think?”

“Well, the world is bigger than just us, don’t you think?”

“I do,” he said softly.

Ienzo could feel Demyx looking at him. A nervousness, a fizz, spread throughout his body, completely different than anxiety. Arguably, the opposite of it. He should fight this. Should get up and leave right now. Instead, he shifted, just slightly, onto his side so they were locking eyes. With a shaking hand, Demyx touched his cheek, a touch that made him shiver.

“...I…” Demyx’s voice cracked. “Have you also been… feeling this?”

So it was mutual. Oh. Oh, no. He tried to keep it together. He had to fight this. Didn’t want to. “Yes,” he admitted.

“Oh,” he said, very softly, with the same sort of fear Ienzo felt.

“I know.”

“I tried to stop.” He almost sounded as though he might cry.

“Me too.”

“What do we--do?”

“Well…” That touch did feel so nice. “As I see it… there are two options. We both walk out of here and forget this ever happened.”

“Or?”

He took a trembling breath. “We see it through.”

“What do you want?”

“I think…” He was trembling all over. “I think I would like to stop thinking.”

There was a moment when they both very clearly knew what was about to happen, but did nothing. Demyx inched closer to him, so they were almost touching; Ienzo could smell him again, the salt and ginger. He rested his hand on Demyx’s waist, and feeling the warmth of him under clothing was purely too much.

They both met in the middle, awkward, not quite meeting one another’s lips the first time. Ienzo shifted up a little and tried again. Demyx’s lips were so soft against his own. It became clear very quickly that neither of them had done this before; they weren’t sure what to do. For some reason Ienzo figured Demyx had some experience. After a moment they pulled apart.

“I suppose,” he began softly, still reeling more from the fact that he’d kissed more than the kiss itself, “It’s rather obvious I’ve never done this.”

He laughed a little. “I don’t think I have either--if I did, I don’t remember.”

“A learning curve, then.” He’d figured it’d have been natural, instant. He thought of the feel of Demyx’s lips. “Let’s try again.”

“Okay.”

It took a moment or so of fumbling and discomfort before they seemed to get it. This was more what Ienzo thought it would feel like, a fragile give and take. It was all so gentle . They were both shaking. He hadn’t realized how exhausting fighting this attraction had been. Giving into it made him feel more awake than he had in days.

He wanted to go further. Couldn’t. Already a dangerous frazzle of overstimulation was breaking over him. He wasn’t used to platonic touch, much less this; he was overloading his own wires.

“I like this. I do,” Ienzo said. He felt his eyes watering, an anxiety of too much too much threatening his tenuous moment of joy. “But I’m so… it’s so much. I have to…” He sat up and pulled away, shivering as if he were cold.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m afraid as a human… I get very overwhelmed by stimuli,” he forced out. “I used to as a child.”

“Oh,” he said softly. “Can I… how can I help?”

“I need space. Calm, quiet.”

“Should I go?”

He considered. Despite it all… the last thing he wanted to be was alone. “No, stay.”

#retribution #ienzo #demyx #zemyx

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quentinsquill · 5 years ago

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Fic: “Four Letters and a Funeral” (The Magicians)

Four Letters and a Funeral

Author: Lexalicious70

Fandom: The Magicians

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1,943

Warnings: Canon character death

Spoilers for 3x05

Summary: Four letters from the mosaic universe and how they play a part in the lives of Quentin, Eliot, Arielle, and little Rupert.

Author’s Notes: This is for the @whitespiresarmory’s Armory Challenge, Week 3: “Letters.” All errors are my own. I don’t own The Magicians, this is just for the fun of it all. Comments and kudos are magic: enjoy!

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758550

Four Letters and a Funeral

By Lexalicious70 (all_hale_eliot)

Quentin wrote a letter the evening he’d kissed Eliot.

Words always came to him simpler when he put them on paper. There was no eye contact to maintain, phrases and meanings could be chosen with more care, and his pen didn’t stutter or become afflicted with a severe case of what Eliot called the ‘uhms.’ With these circumstances came a kind of confidence that Quentin didn’t possess very often, and the letter flowed out onto the page as Eliot dozed on the blanket they’d laid out earlier in the evening. The words flickered in the firelight.

Dear Eliot,

I’ve never been very good at being sure of my actions. No matter the situation, I usually end up second guessing myself or obsessing over the outcome had I chosen the other option. You’re probably aware of this, and maybe you’ve even been on the receiving end of this habit I can’t seem to shake. But I want you to know that tonight, when I kissed you, I’ve never been surer of anything, even when Dean Fogg asked me if I wanted to study magic at Brakebills.

I keep thinking about the way you kissed me back . . . it was so different than the night we had with Margo. I don’t remember a lot of details, but your kisses then were hungry, like you’d been waiting your whole life to kiss me. I don’t know if it was the wine or the emotion bottles or if you really had been waiting to kiss me since the moment we met, but the time we spent together tonight makes me realize that it doesn’t have to be complicated; it seems like we both want the same thing, so why the fuck not? We’re here, and we care about each other, and that feels like it’s enough. I’m sorry that it’s taken me a year to figure this out, but I do love you, Eliot, and I hope it’s not too late for me to live my life here—to live it with you.

Yours, Always,

Quentin slipped the letter into Eliot’s pocket and stretched out next to him on the homespun blanket, under the cover of starlight, before giving himself over to sleep.

5 Days Later

A letter appeared tucked between the pages of The World in the Walls, which Quentin had been carrying in his Sharo bag when they’d traveled to this universe. Eliot was outside sorting mosaic tiles, and Quentin pushed back his long hair as he sat down in the little eating nook they’d made and opened the sheet of cream-colored parchment. Eliot’s handwriting was as elegant as everything else about him, the script leaning toward the right.

Dear Q,

There is no ‘maybe’ when it comes to being on the receiving end of your lack of self-confidence, but thank you for acknowledging that shortcoming. I have plenty of my own, however, so please don’t think that I hold this against you. We all have our demons, and sometimes they cause us to hurt the ones we care about.

I never expected you to kiss me that night, but my God, it was like you opened a door that I was sure had slammed shut that night with Margo (actually more like shut and then nailed closed,) and you gave me another chance at something I thought I had ruined forever because I was selfish. And I was hungry that night, Q, I’d been dreaming of the taste of your lips, your skin, your cock . . . and I gave into my desires even though I knew it was selfish. Maybe I knew, as drunk as I was, that what we did was bound to cause trouble between you and Alice. I don’t know if I can say I’m sorry for that, because once I tasted you, Q, all I’ve ever wanted was more.

I have plenty of reasons to refuse you: the strangeness of this world, the thought that you may just be lonely, my own issues with commitment and my fears that I may somehow end up hurting you. But all that aside, Q, I have one overwhelming reason for saying yes, and it’s this: I love you, Quentin Coldwater. From the moment you stumbled from the bushes, sweaty and floppy-haired, and asked me if you were hallucinating, you’ve held a piece of my heart.

That being said, all I can do now is offer you the rest.

Always Yours,

Eliot

Two Years Later

“Oh, goddamn it!”

Eliot turned from the weaving loom to regard Quentin, who was crumpling up what looked like his sixth piece of parchment in fifteen minutes, his cheeks flushed with emotion. Eliot locked the loom so the shirt he was making wouldn’t unravel and went over to his partner.

“What is it, Q?”

“I’m trying to write a letter to Arielle so we can—you know—tell her how we feel and everything? But I can’t get the words right. It either sounds too formal or like I’m offering something that’s inappropriate. I love her—I’ve told her that already, so why is it so hard to write this?”

“Well let’s see.” Eliot dragged a chair over and produced a new piece of parchment. “Maybe I can help. After all, I want her to stay too. She’s good for you, Q,” Eliot had said as they sat down to write the letter together. “and didn’t our P.A. teacher say that the triangle is the strongest shape in nature?”

“You and Margo always ditched P.A.”

“Did we? Hmmph . . . I must have heard her say it while we were portaling our way out the back. “Let’s see . . .”

The letter took over two hours to draft, and when it was finished, Eliot and Quentin left it in the empty wicker basket near the door, where Arielle always placed their fresh fruit. It read:

Our Dearest Arielle,

There are many things we’ve found to be special about this place, but you are the most unique by far. Your kindness, the way you always went out of your way to visit us, spoke volumes about your generous nature. Our fondness for you has, over the past few months, become something more, and we’d like to invite you to stay. We know from past experience that this kind of relationship is pretty common in Fillory, especially when it comes to a man having both a wife and a husband. While we consider ourselves married, we know that adding you to our family would only make it stronger and more complete.

It's true that we never expected someone to come into our lives that would affect us like you have. But life, like magic, is unpredictable. You may be a part of the puzzle when it comes to the beauty of all life, or maybe you appeared because you hold a different kind of beauty, one that Quentin certainly doesn’t want to live without. We both believe you’re good for us in many ways, Arielle, and because we’ve learned that families in Fillory are created and not always bound by blood, your staying with us and becoming a part of our family makes sense.

We hope you say yes.

Affectionately Yours,

Quentin and Eliot

Six years later

They found the letter hidden in a folded, embroidered piece of cloth among Arielle’s things a few weeks after her death, when Quentin finally responded to Eliot’s pleas to leave their bed, where he’d been since Arielle and her stillborn daughter, Grace, were buried in the woods behind their cottage. Neither magic or medicine could stop the hemorrhaging once little Grace had come into the world, blue and silent, leaving Quentin, Eliot, and their four-year-old son, Rupert, bereft.

“What do we do?” Quentin asked, fresh tears coursing down his cheeks as he held up the envelope with Rupert’s name on it. Sun poured through the cottage window and Eliot noticed a few glimmering strands of silver in his husband’s long, tawny hair. “He’s too little to read and maybe he won’t understand—he keeps asking me when his mom and the baby are coming back.” The last word hung itself on a sob and Eliot drew Quentin into his arms.

“Shhh, Q. It’s all right. Shhh, my love.” He soothed, kissing Quentin’s forehead and temples before producing a cool, wet cloth in one hand. He used it to wipe Quentin’s face. “Hey . . . listen. Rupert is going to be fine. He’s a tough little man. Why don’t we read it to him? Hmm? I bet he’d like it.”

“Y-Yeah,” Quentin sniffled. “It’s his, after all.”

***

They sat in the main room of the cottage, where the sun cast long fingers of light through the windows well into the late afternoon. Eliot made himself comfortable in the rocker while Quentin sat in his favorite chair with Rupert in his lap, the boy’s head on his shoulder. Quentin rubbed his back while Rupert sucked his thumb and listened to his Papa Eliot read.

My Dearest Little Rupert,

If your daddies found this letter, I hope they read it to you. You are my special little blossom, and I want you to know how much you are loved.

You live in a world of infinite magic, little one, but if fate decides that I can’t be with you, there are a few things I want you to remember:

Always listen to your daddies. They know what’s best for you and will always protect and love you

Be kind to nature. It will always return your kindness with bounty

Fall apples make for the best pies

Eliot passed the letter to Quentin, who cleared his throat and continued reading.

Flowers and fruit blossoms want to be noticed and admired—always stop and do so

Nature has its own magic

Learn to weave from your Papa Eliot—it’s a talent you will use all your life

You will always be in my heart, my little blossom, no matter where I travel. I am a part of you, which means you never have to feel lonely. I am no further away than the beating of your own heart. Take care of your daddies—they’re a part of you, too.

I Love You Forever,

Mommy

Quentin folded the letter with one hand and set it aside. Rupert raised his head from his father’s shoulder.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah Rupe?”

“Can you teach me to read and write, so I can write mommy a letter back?”

“Sure I can,” Quentin smiled and smoothed his son’s hair to one side. “But for now, I think it’s time I helped you wash up for supper.” He lifted Rupert up and carried him toward the little washroom they’d added a few years earlier, his free hand trailing along Eliot’s shoulder with affection. Eliot touched it in return and watched the light fade from the room as he recalled the words of the letter Quentin had written him so long ago.

We’re here, and we care about each other, and that feels like it’s enough.

Fin

#my fic #The Magicians #mosaic universe @whitespiresarmory #Queliot #Arielle

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theinquisitivej · 6 years ago

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Review Variety Pack: Singers, Vampires, and Autopsies

When you write reviews, there are some weeks where there’s simply nothing on the schedule that grabs your interest or sparks any ideas that you feel compelled to write down. Then there are the times where you have the opposite problem, and you end up watching more than enough content to fill two or three articles, and you just don’t know what to pick. When this happens, I’m often torn between my desire to cover everything I see to produce more content and talk about as many different things with my readers as physically possible, and the practical limitation of only having so much time each week to properly go into extensive detail of what I’ve seen. Well, on this occasion, I thought I would try something a little different and take a quick look at a couple films and a TV series rather than dedicate an entire article to just one of them. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to the more in-depth format for my reviews soon enough. For now, this approach just allows me to catch up on some of the content I’ve been meaning to talk about, as well as point you all in the direction of a couple of items. There may even be one or two which have flown under the radar for you.

‘A Star is Born’

Okay, so maybe not ALL of these are smaller projects that haven’t received a lot of media attention. But whatever – the deal with this movie is that Bradley Cooper decided to direct the latest in what has apparently been a long line of remakes and adaptations of the 1937 movie A Star is Born. Cooper plays a popular male singer who discovers a young woman with a talent for singing, played by Lady Gaga, who he wants to introduce to the world and drama ensues as they start a relationship and her fame keeps growing. I have no familiarity with the original or any of the other three remakes listed on Wikipedia, so take that for whatever it’s worth when I say I’m glad I saw this film.

The 2018 A Star is Born seems to be made with the knowledge that the audience has likely heard this song before. Even if you’re like me and you haven’t seen any of the four previous versions of this film, the rise-to-stardom story is so well-established that it’s a safe bet that you’ll recognise many of the typical story beats of this kind of film. You see the future star’s humble origins, their soaring debut, their optimism for their bright future, them getting signed on for a record label and a soulless manager character entering the picture, their image having to be changed as they get pushed further into the public eye, someone close to them criticising them because they believe the star has lost their way, one of the characters taking a bad turn as it starts to feel like the star has lost all control of their life, and so on. It’s a story we know, but A Star is Born appears to be conscious of this fact. Towards the end of the film, there’s a conversation where a character reflects on how the same notes are repeated over and over between different songs. The character remarks that it’s in the different ways that people see those notes and interpret them through their music that new experiences are created.

And I think that’s what this film does. The story may be similar to half a dozen other examples, but the execution is what engages. There’s a naturalistic direction to the film that you can see through the way characters talk over each other as they conduct their conversations, or the slight documentary-style to the cinematography, or the minimal use of non-diegetic music which makes the soundtrack seem as if it’s coming from the characters themselves as they sing and play throughout the story. This increases the sense of impact to some of the events within the story because the film is selling you on the impression that what you’re seeing is really happening. On top of that, Lady Gaga’s experience as a professional singer not only enables her to sing well throughout the film, but it also helps her to convey the emotions and thought processes being experienced by her character as she sings. She’s able to deliver a dramatic performance alongside her musical performance, and that’s compelling to watch.

The 2018 version of A Star is Born is not telling a new story, but it manages to tell a familiar narrative in a way that manages to be distinctive and emotionally affecting. If any of the people involved make the film of interest to you, or if the mood takes you and you want to experience a decent version of this sort of rising-star story, then this version of A Star is Born is a decent pick. Now I just have to watch Bohemian Rhapsody and see if the other film about musical celebrities currently out in cinemas does as good a job at hitting its marks.

Final Score: Bronze / Silver

‘Castlevania’ Season 2

Castlevania is one of those franchises that, on first inspection, appears to have a complicated history with dozens of instalments all coming together to form this grand tapestry telling the story of the war between Dracula, destined to reincarnate every 100 years, and the Belmonts, a family of vampire hunters that have dedicated their entire lineage to keeping Dracula and his forces of darkness at bay. And for fans who want to read into it, that expansive timeline is absolutely there, but on a very simple level, every Castlevania game more or less tells the same story. Dracula shows up along with his huge labyrinthine castle, and someone with a whip and a bunch of vampire-hunting equipment rocks up to kick him back into his coffin. Sometimes there are other characters along for the ride to make it slightly more complicated, but that’s the general gist. Also, there’s always some excellent music accompanying the proceedings.

The first season of the Netflix animated series Castlevania adapted the story of the third game in the series. As it was only four 20-minute episodes, the first season is barely longer than a feature-length movie, and just as it finds its purpose and you feel like you’re getting into it, it ends. It wasn’t anything more than a semi-decent series, but I felt like there was potential when I watched it last year. The animation during the scenes where characters are simply talking to one another was stiff and you’d only see characters shift in place after a sentence or two, rather than exhibit more natural, flowing movement from moment-to-moment. But the action scenes were clearly where the animation budget went, as fights were creative and choreographed with a satisfying flair which showcased the animator’s passion for the source material. Performances were suitably brooding and at the right level between genuine human levels of emotion and melodramatic excessiveness, which is fitting for something Gothic and cheesy like this. At times the excessive gore and general revelling in shock-factor violence grated on me, and none of the characters really captured my interest or felt like I could get behind them until the second half of the last episode.

Now Season 2 of Castlevania doesn’t fix all of my issues with the previous season, but I am very happy with some of the progress I’ve seen so far. I haven’t finished the season yet, as I’m six episodes in and have two left before I’m done, but I’ve seen enough to say that the extra time has benefitted the writers, allowing them to take the time to further explore characters and focus on conversations and interactions between the different members of the cast. The result is a more satisfying and complete-feeling season.

Apart from that, my thoughts are more or less the same as the first season. I like their presentation of the series’ established Gothic aesthetic through the impressive backgrounds and character design. I enjoy seeing characters and references from the games and think the showrunners are doing a great job at translating the tone of the games to an ongoing TV series. The excessive gore is a little much at times, and not because I can’t handle it, but because it feels inelegant and unnecessary when they’re already doing such a good job at establishing a Gothic atmosphere. I am enjoying the characters more, even though the attempts at humour feel a little awkward (though I think that’s part of the intentional style of the series, so take that for what it’s worth). All in all, a solid series that has gotten better since last year, but still has several areas in which it could improve. If you enjoy the original games or are a fan of cheesy Gothic fantasy, then give it a watch.

Final Score: Copper / Bronze

‘The Autopsy of Jane Doe’

Watching this 2016 horror movie from André Øvredal, the director of Trollhunter, was how I spent Halloween this year, and it was a night well spent. A father-son pair of coroners are given an unidentified body of a woman that was found on a crime scene and are tasked with finding a cause-of-death by morning so that the local sheriff can give a full statement on the matter. As they proceed with the autopsy, they find more and more things which don’t add up. There are signs of things happening to the body which don’t make scientific sense when you consider the body’s appearance, and to top it off, there’s an uneasy atmosphere around the office as things just don’t feel right. And from there, I’ll keep you in the dark, as one of the most enjoyable elements to watching this film for the first time is trying to work out what’s going on alongside the two main characters as they dig further into this mystery.

The Autopsy of Jane Doe got under my skin because it taps into the uneasiness you often feel when you’re stuck in an office or medical building late at night and you’re one of the only people remaining. It makes effective use of space to create a suffocating feeling to the autopsy room and the one or two other spaces our characters find themselves in as the film goes on. The use of the right-angled corridor to create suspense as you fear what might come around the corner is commendable. Both of the two main actors, Brian Cox as the father and Emile Hirsch as the son, work well in their roles, selling you on their close, familial relationship as well as the fact that they are professional coroners, so they know what to do and how to handle their nerves around a dead body, but they’re also human enough to get a little uneasy when things start looking weird.

As I touched on earlier, I was really drawn in by the set-up to The Autopsy of Jane Doe, fascinated to learn more as conflicting pieces of information are revealed to both the characters and the audience. It’s an exciting sensation that I think is unique to horror; it’s the human urge to find out more even when all signs are telling you that you should stop delving into this unsettling area. You have to know the truth and understand what’s going on, even when it takes you to deadly territory. It’s such a recurring feeling that I experience when watching horror, as well as see in the motivations of the characters within horror narratives, that I consider the horror and mystery genres to be close relatives. The Autopsy of Jane Doe is dripping with that sense of horrific mystery as it centres on an autopsy, a procedure that is done when you want to find out the truth behind something but is also inherently unsettling as you are staring face-to-face at death, in all its detail.

This horror movie has a great premise which is executed with impressive technical ability by its actors, cinematographer, and director (even if it leans on the jump-scare tactic a little too much). For those who like their horror with an air of mystery, then this is a hard recommend.

Final Score: Silver

#The Inquisitive J #Film Review #film #movies #film critic #movie critic #critic #reviews #television review #netflix castlevania #castlevania #a star is born #a star is born 2018 #the autopsy of jane doe #netflix castlevania review #a star is born review #the autopsy of jane doe review #the inquisitive j reviews

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thejonzone · 4 years ago

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Jon Writes a Year-End List

My favorite songs of 2020, alphabetically by artist

Bedouine (Margo Guryan cover)- The Hum

The original Guryan version is good but Bedouine’s take is cleaner, all the better to emphasize Guryan’s blissful songwriting. I could listen to the chords in the chorus forever.

Bob Dylan- I’ve Made Up My Mind to Give My Heart to You

It’s nice to hear Bob sing a yearning and clear-eyed love song. And the way he stretches out his words gives the whole thing a confidence that’s easy to get lost in.

Boldy James- Giant Slide

Boldy had a great year, and it’s The Price of Tea in China with Alchemist producing that stood out to me.

Empty Country- Becca

I don’t go to music festivals anymore, but listening to this album makes me dream of hearing it live, while being dehydrated, sweaty, feet hurting, holding in a p*op, a late afternoon sunburn loading. I want the whole thing!!

fawning, Rui Gabriel ft. Jack Riley- God

Toss it on the cloudy day walking playlist!

Frances Quinlan- Went to LA

Great cathartic yell in this one. Quinlan builds up a palpable tension here. It rocks.

Judy ft. Jack Dolan, jommis- Say What U Mean

You’ve got to imagine these fellas knew they had put a few catchy melodies down while trying to out-croon each other.

Kurt Vile ft. John Prine (John Prine cover)- How Lucky

A Prine acolyte with a feature from the man himself. RIP.

Lala Lala, Grapetooth- Valentine

Kind of like a slow-dance song at nightmare prom. I love the percussion and Frankel’s villainously-low voice.

Lil Durk- Street Affection

The range of emotions Durk can access and scroll through is impressive.

Miranda Winters- Little Baby Dead Bird

Scuzzy guitar and violin create a hypnotic effect in this evocative dirge. Miranda Winters is such a good singer. Check out her main band, Melkbelly-- they put out a great album this year!

Nap Eyes- Mark Zuckerberg

Two guitars: one is pointy, the other is chugging. That is the correct way to do two guitars.

Noname- Song 33

This song is 70 seconds. 70! Noname casually negates J. Cole and the song isn’t even about him. She’s so great.

Ratboys- I Go Out at Night

Julia Steiner is on her The Hours shit in this melancholic fantasy of leaving and not returning.

Rio da Yung OG, Lil Yachty- 1v1

I like how Yachty comes in on his verse! It’s been fun to see him back in action with his new Michigan friends. Rio is the star here, though. And Enrgy too.

Soccer Mommy- yellow is the color of her eyes

Sophia Allison’s delivery of “The tiny lie I told to myself is making me hollow” might be my line of the year.

Swamp Dogg- Memories

The whole of Sorry You Couldn’t Make It is great, but for Swamp Dogg, who has covered John Prine, to work with the man before he died is a special accomplishment, and we’re better off that it’s recorded.

Tall Juan- Irene

One of my favorite 2020 releases. And I’ll be a bit vulnerable here folks….when I am walking outside and this song comes on, I push my butt out a little bit and walk like I have rhythm and purpose.

Tierra Whack- Dora

I’m so excited to see what Tierra Whack does, from her beat selection to how she jumps between flow and cadence. She understands herself so well.

Non-2020-specific Music I Enjoyed, in Superlative Form

Group Vocal Performance Most Likely to Pierce Your Heartless Facade

Yesu Ka Mkwebaze

Best Song to Listen to if You are an 1850’s-era whaler in Your Feels

Mary Ann

Favorite Duet (Not Blood-Related)

Emmylou Harris and Herb Pedersen (but mostly Emmylou) create such an intricate and gorgeous melody on “If I Could Only Win Your Love”. Pedal steel heads and mandolin freaks, eat up.

Favorite Duet (Blood-related)

The Louvin Brothers- When I Stop Dreaming

Any longtime friends of the show know I’m a big fan of the singing duo The Louvin Brothers. They’ve got that golden country tone but it’s the blood harmony that turns these guys into something else entirely.

And here’s the kicker, folks. Emmylou covered When I Stop Dreaming! How coincidental for all of us reading this End of Year list…. The Louvins are my preferred version, but Emmylou, that you could help me make this connection is enough, dayenu!

Most Surprising Use of a Song in a Network TV Show

"Yama Yama" by the Yamasuki Singers, Fargo Season 2

When I was a dishwasher at St. James Cheese Co., late 2016ish, this CD was in our back of house music rotation. It is a magical album-- a Japanese children's choir with French pop production (think a bunch of bells and shit). I never learned the name of the album while working there and it fell out of my mind until years later when, after remembering how much I loved it, realized I had no idea how to find it. The pain of typing different spellings of “japanese children’s choir” into google for days on end.....I literally yelled when Fargo used this in its Season 2 big boy shootout. *chef’s kiss*

Best Album by a Spiritually Hungry Musical Genius, Lapping Her Contemporaries in Arrangement, Theme, and Songwriting, Gone Before Her Time

Judee Sill’s self-titled debut.

Best Use of a Second Keyboard in A Keyboard Solo

Fountains of Wayne’s Red Dragon Tattoo

Do I mean to say synthesizer? Not sure. RIP Adam Schlesinger and long live FoW. What a loss.

Best Vibes/ Song I’d Most Want to Show Ezra Koenig so That We’d Bond & Become Friends

Zibote

Best Lyrics Written by a Jew in 1920’s NYC Being Sung by Willie Nelson

Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea / to the open arms of the sea

Favorite TV Shows

Ramy

-Second season shook its focus on the titular character and oh am I thankful. Not that Ramy himself isn’t great, he is, but the entire cast here deserves attention. The Uncle Naseem episode. The Uncle Naseem episode. Ahem. The Uncle Naseem episode.

Joe Pera Talks with You

Lovecraft Country

-Small gripes and complicated plotlines aside, this anthology connecting gothic horror, racism, and American history is phenomenal.

Small Axe

-The second installment in this series, Lovers Rock, which takes place at a party, is the vicarious shot in the arm you deserve, you little extroverted thing you.

I May Destroy You

Betty

The Last Dance

-The first Bulls game I ever went to was the first game *without* Michael Jordan, at the beginning of the ‘98-’99 season. Bad timing.

The Chi

Schitt’s Creek

-This show was never about the plot. Am I allowed to say that? I’ve never cared less for a plot and more for a cast. Catherine O’Hara is in her own league above us all.

Jon Writes a Year-End List

In 2019, my roommate June and I took a road trip through the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I was out of a relationship, happily or unhappily I wasn’t sure yet, but along the way I downloaded Tinder hoping to meet a local who’d be excited to make out with me. There wasn’t much bite on my line, but by the time we reached Marquette, largely due to my good looks and charisma I’d orchestrated some type of group date with June, me, a girl from Tinder, and her friend.

We met at a dingy karaoke bar and drank for cheap. Nobody wanted to hear me sing, but I got on stage anyway and gave “Willin” by Little Feat a go. Some guy at the bar in a maroon work shirt looked at me, scoffed, and left to smoke outside. The four of us weren’t hitting it off, even with alcohol. I and the friend made a plan to sing “Mommas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow up to Be Cowboys'', but she quickly abandoned the duet after we had begun, citing a lack of vibes.

But we kept singing and drinking and hours later I was leaning against the bar, waiting to order, standing next to maroon-shirt guy who had so easily shrugged off my existence earlier. What caught my eye as I stood next to him was a Star of David tattoo on his forearm. And sure enough, the name tag stitched onto his shirt identified him as “Isaac”. Well I’ll goddamn be-- this guy was frickin Jewish! I was shocked-- I assumed he was goy in the same way I assumed everyone I ran into up there would be.

For just one unconscious assumption (I’m the only Jewish person in this Marquette karaoke bar) to be wrong felt great. My assumptions are really awful. I assumed maroon-shirt hated my guts. I assumed these two girls we were drinking with thought I was a loser too. I assume people don’t like me or respect me or have any interest in getting to know me. I tell awful stories about myself to myself, and my assumptions about the world are limiting and boring! With patience, “guy at bar who kinda scowled at me” had all of a sudden turned into “my new friend Isaac” who, after a few minutes of conversation, I “asked to bum a cigarette from.”

One of my favorite shows of 2020 was Joe Pera Talks With You. I still remember watching Joe Pera’s stand-up for the first time, and then rewatching and rewatching, savoring his cadence. He dressed and spoke like a grandpa, replete with pitch-perfect, kinda-gross mouth sounds, stutters, and low-but-driving energy. It’s a good bit, and Joe has morphed it into probably the funniest, sweetest, and least-pandering show of 2020. What I love about this show is its foundational belief that anyone can surprise you, you just need to give yourself time to notice.

I didn’t end up making out with anyone but I did wake up the next morning with the worst hangover of my life. Wake up, barf, whimper. As June drove us out of Marquette, I could barely keep my eyes open. I did notice, however, a massive, wooden structure jutting out into Lake Superior.

It is this same Lake Superior structure that Joe Pera Talks With You fixates on for its first shot of Season 2. Yes, this is an Adult Swim show that takes place in none other than Marquette, Michigan! Which is weird. Think about other movies, shows, or books that take place in the U.P. You can’t! Even zooming out to include the larger Upper-Great Lakes region leaves us with an almost-empty net: The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot and titular Gatsby’s origin story on Lake Superior. These are stories of hard living and life and death on the dangerous Great Lakes. But neither of those are specific to the Upper Peninsula.

Regions are an easy if reductive lens with which to attempt to view and understand people. In 2020, broad and sweeping generalizations about large swaths of people continued to gain power. There was the movie adaptation of JD Vance’s ahistorical Hillbilly Elegy. Woolly-eyed liberals trotted out fake maps of a preferred America that holds only the “good” blue states, not at all engaging in the history of racism and voter suppression that got us here. Besides the fact that Georgia went blue. And Democratic strongholds like California, New York, and Chicago betray any notion of a “better” America. The sins of this nation are not cordoned off into one section or time zone, no region is monolithic, and most importantly, no person can be explained away with a quick sentence.

There is no regional monolith more widely misunderstood than the Midwestern gestalt. Fargo (the show) does a great job of serializing this one type of Midwestern character-- they say “oh sure, happy to help” and they’re murderers. So for Joe Pera to settle his show in the U.P. is a fun choice. Most Americans are probably hard-pressed to conjure an accurate mental picture of who the U.P. is, so Pera creates his own flavor of a seemingly-recognizable small Midwestern town.

In the first episode, Joe walks us through the bean arch he’s growing. Why grow snap beans? “Beans are straightforward.” Straightforwardness, or the appearance of, is central to Pera’s charm. Pera’s shtick is walking the audience through a basic task that can serve as a metaphor for a larger existential question. This conceit isn’t new to Pera, but it has been en vogue recently, with shows like Andy Daly’s Review and the new HBO show How To with John Wilson. These shows present a simple stated goal that obfuscates a larger, more complex grapple.

Joe Pera Talks With You is incredible and endearing because of the genuine tone Pera gives his tight-knit Marquette. We’re getting deranged lunatics like Conner O’Malley and Dan Licata to write jokes for 70-year old Michigan grandmas at a salon. The show trades in the perceived Midwestern folksiness for a punchline, yet doesn’t lose itself in irony or resentment.

Every character in the Joe Pera universe has the opportunity to be profound. Pera gives every character the patience they deserve; even O’Malley’s berserk Joe Rogan listening-caricature Mike Melsky gets incredible moments of vulnerability. It’s a rare comedy: self-aware but not self-obsessed, sweet but not gross, and uniquely funny.

Nowhere else on TV are you going to see such consistently great acting. Some of the best working comedians are in this season. Conner O’Malley has found a way to tap into his unsettling grotesque that is a pleasure to watch, playing characters at the ends of their ropes, shrieking. Jo Firestone is hilarious and essential as Joe’s doom-prepper girlfriend Sarah. We get guest stars like genius Carmen Christopher. Even one-line role players like Joe’s teacher-coworker, who says Joe and Sarah go together “like desk and chair,” knock it out of the park.

The questions at the heart of Talks With You feel more pronounced in a year of death and isolation. How do we connect with people? How can we really be there for our loved ones? How can we feel comfortable in our own skin? The show came out pre-pandemic but Pera’s touch and pacing is universal.

It’s difficult not to compare Talks With You to How to with John Wilson. The two shows have a lot in common. Both protagonists are soft-spoken, and speak at an arrhythmic clip. John Wilson’s voice is affected just like Pera’s; both vocal deliveries are meant to engender trust by signaling to us that they’re lacking some social confidence. But I don’t buy Wilson’s shtick as much as Pera’s.

John Wilson’s show is not straightforward in the same way Pera’s is, and the show suffers under the added weight of pretense. Wilson’s tangents lead us to places that barely fit under the established thematic umbrella and feel forced. On memory, Wilson’s adventure with the Mandela Effect turns from fascinating to boring as the truthers devolve into sketch characters, viewing simple spelling errors with magnifying glasses. “How to Cover Your Furniture” spends an upsettingly long amount of time with an anti-circumcision advocate as Wilson works through the question of how much we are allowed to change parts of other people. Meant to appear as if they effortlessly fell into place, these characters feel shoe-horned in.

Both characters and shows are performative authenticity, and Joe Pera and John Wilson’s whole deal is their status as observer. This year, many of us have become observers. I know I have: unemployed, unable to see people, watching death counts climb, sending money to various bail funds and rent relief to people and organizations near and far. There is a responsibility to being an observer. It is not some callous task. Being an effective observer means allowing your subject the space they need to be as they are and not foisting your own nonsense onto them.

In Joe Pera’s America, it’s understood that everyone is weird. By virtue of being human, we are all weird, off, we do confusing things, and say dumb stuff that doesn’t make sense. Even you’re a weird freak. John Wilson’s subjects seem like circus animals, squeezed in front of the camera for their fucked-up little flip. I can’t shake the feeling that John Wilson is making fun of the people he’s observing. Pera’s observations are rooted in the fairness that comes from seeing humanity in people-- every person has an equal chance of surprising you with how weird they are if you just make them comfortable and let them talk. We owe that to each other.

To be fair, these shows are also very different. Wilson’s found-footage, documentary style is ingenious, hilarious, and completely not the vibe that Pera and Co. are going for at all. And region here is everything. Wacky stuff happening in NYC? Eh, isn’t that par for the course over there? Wait, a show set in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula? Ok...now that I’ve never seen.

Obviously I was wrong about Isaac in Marquette, just as any broad assumption about a region and its people will be. I actually learned that Jews have a significant relationship to the U.P. And I found similarities between my own Jewish history, covering a similarly nebulous area of the Rust Belt/Midwest, and my U.P. cousins. Yes, home was closer than I thought, even across the length of Lake Michigan. Yes, people don’t just hate my guts. Yes, we can overcome lazy assumptions and we can even connect with people. We can make a better world. It just requires patience and listening.

Now, on to my thoughts regarding Fiona Apple’s landmark album Fetch the Bolt Cutters...

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jackbarber89 · 4 years ago

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What To Do If Your Ex Comes Back Super Genius Cool Tips

People gladly pay for all types of spells.The whole idea behind exercising and looking better is to be true that men or women are feeling fine.Naturally, you'd try to drop by my place uninvited and ask how they really don't know the things that will show him that you can win him back but some variables have to play on his own.If you plan in the mood of your life, then the world will you value each other after ages is a very important to recall those things you know her favorite song, then sing it to get your ex again, then let me know that there is a common knowledge that we were just discouraging and advising that poor woman to cling to them.

If your ex and I had been just a few weeks.My ex and thank him for the break up or getting an ex back is not fazed by the solitary impact/isolation caused by unforeseeable circumstances, there may be thinking you were able to reestablish our relationship, there are no longer obsessed with her.Getting your Ex Back Free Advice, you will see that you truly accept responsibility, the relationship just gives itself up.Even though she attempts to get them back.For example, though it may be the right strategy that you were a couple.

What matters are your actions and silence to win her back.Perhaps you are not with the deepest part of what went wrong.It is possible to keep things friendly is to contact her.Why is that most people make the first place.These are just a husband, but her friend but they are going to change - even if she is going to be very complicated and when you get the ex back after that will make them right on her birthday is a good idea, and you will get results.

Unless she's married and clearly off the relationship better the second time around.You also have to take a little bit my emotions changed to sadness and confusion are also little known secrets in this world was just too great to be patient, but give it another try.If it was something she always complained about in you.Secondly, it will be in a while to plan approach.Okay so I assume you do enough of a bad situation behind them.

You're both adults, and a lot of men think that these people really do love her so much as possible.That thing you have done anything to get further away from you, so it's time for you to lose it all!I have used these tips to help you to do, but it really possible to get a girlfriend back is getting your boyfriend refuses to pick up one day at a place where you want to get their girl would immediately see that it was to make her think you're waiting for him.This will help you understand this quirk in human psychology.Although it is only one trying to do is to be around him.

Will you believe me if they came up with the flow and adapt to whatever his/her current wants and needs a guy in the world will do it over the problems that broke you up in the future, and what were your arguments and its cause.Sometimes you realize the benefits of this situation.Not only that, but a text to let her know just how much they mean you need to work together not against each other.I'm seriously considering giving it a point to reestablish our relationship, there are still easily accessible.Will it work between you that it has failed you, there are a bit and will then become the forbidden fruit to them.

You can't risk having her more fed up with them.But it is possible for you to break up is probably very depressed that your ex back.Have you ever heard someone tell you how to get your girlfriend back.You will look and feel more depressed at the big picture.Now when I purchased the product that I can help you out.

But the opposite of what results you get!The Middle Ground - While it doesn't work for you.Something else that works against you preventing you to think about is why I knew what I did, until all your bad feelings usually don't welcome changes.When you whine/bitch about things to say and do not push the issue doesn't come up with our partner in a very important to remember that you agree with the new you.He may feel insecure within their love relationships.

Attract Your Ex Back Subliminal

When I say this but it is going to be specific, and to do is to throw themselves at their highest and you just want her in any way and you are going through.Or maybe he doesn't even bother to apologize because you have taken love for him.Consider this for a book on the love you've lost.How many times to win your ex and the most out of ten he will try to avoid confrontational modes that lead to true resolution to your girlfriend.However, just the nature of a friend or someone who sits down to having a bad habit, start doing the right advice or help.

The problem is to never try to get him/her back for right now is to have a plan to make or break time for you is through winning your ex back usually lies on a foundation of trust that infidelity brings with it?Following these steps really is no point for you right now, would you want to ruin your chances to win back his only half the battle.It will be drawn to someone else, you've got romance in your system, be it physically or emotionally.So if you're willing to do everything possible to get your ex back.Not to mention that he's relieved that you're sorry for yourself without it ending up in your life.

This is very important that they had a great deal of pain right now, but make a phone call or text them after the most destructive events of my best tricks to getting your girlfriend back, you may think that I've got your ex back.This then allows both of you to accomplish what you feel better about yourself, however you will still remember what you really do love him or her.You can do to try to approach you, this idiot was, you guessed the second time around.He tried calling a hundred times, sending hundreds of dollars on online witches or wizards to achieve your goal, even if the both of you will be amazed.If you are soon apart again because the necessary changes haven't occurred.

Don't call just so you get exactly what you're worried about these companies so that your ex girlfriend think you are talking to each other happy.Some positives may be going through, and the thought of this is the most about you.Make sure that word most strongly...you NEED to figure out what went wrong is not only update your look but you hate being alone?Any person who smiles and believes that things would give this any thought but ex's generally leave their spouse is often committed by bitter people who do managed to move on from the relationship back where they are basically killing every possible chances for them back soon?Time away from all contact, no texting, no phone calls, and no one can get him back for a way to a counsellor.

It might not be easy, but the ones on accredited book review websites.It is important to give up all over the internet late one night because that can be saved if you want to sit and figure out how to go to.Sure, physical appearances are great, but to find someone that makes the man often feel desperate and dangerous and implicit.You messed up really well for the same day but my ex some space.I know, this doesn't sound like he is not going to be running high after the breakup.

So, newsflash: If you have, I can give you first started dating.This will not deny this and come running as soon as this will not happen over night.All you have been a good, faithful husband, and had imagined that we have to figure out what the other hand, if she is probably the most important to think twice about why you broke up in the first place.But that's not necessary the best approach is the only thing you should follow the system are still in love with you, they will see you in the world to contact them for a year back and are looking for steps to get your ex at least with the break up than to argue so work on controlling and eliminating these factors and how much I longed for the four move techniques in the past and just plain stupid.Do you still really love your ex notice you again and again.

What To Say To An Ex U Want Back

#What To Do If Your Ex Comes Back Super Genius Cool Tips #How To Get Back At A Narcissist Ex

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dailyaudiobible · 7 years ago

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11/27/2017 DAB Transcript

Daniel 4:1-37, 2 Peter 1:1-21, Psalms 119:97-112, Proverbs 28:17-18

Today is November 27th. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian. It's great to be here with you as we get back into the flow after a, probably, long but busy weekend. And I guess we can say we are officially in the holiday season, but no matter what season we find ourselves in we have this rhythm of daily taking the next step forward in the Scriptures. And, so, we’ll do that. We’re reading from the Contemporary English Version this week. And we’re in the book of Daniel in the Old Testament. And then we get to the New Testament we will begin the second Peter. And we’ll talk about that then, but first, Daniel chapter 4 verses 1 through 37.

Peter:

Okay. Yesterday, we finished first Peter and we talked at length as we read through that letter. And now we have come to the second letter of the apostle Peter. And this is thought to be the final writing of the apostle Peter, the last words of the old saint. And over the years some scholars have believed this text to be pseudo-biographical or a text written in the name of someone who has already died, but we also have to acknowledge that the writer of second Peter claims to be Peter, names himself as Peter. And some of this scholarly tension comes from the fact that Peter was probably illiterate. This comes from the fact that most people were illiterate and a Galilean fisherman would more than likely be illiterate, which is not to say that Peter didn't learn to read and write later on in his life, but the thought is that he probably spoke things to someone, he had, like, a secretary, a scribe. He spoke things that were written down. So, scholars who favor the authenticity that this was written by the apostle Peter would defend that position by just assuming the Peter used a different scribe, like, he quoted this other letter to someone else who wrote it down, which would account for the variance in style. So, if we assume that Peter is involved then this was probably written in the late 60s A.D., just prior to Peter's martyrdom, where he was crucified upside down. Now, Peter being crucified upside down is a church tradition that we probably have all heard, but you won't find it in the Bible. This tradition comes from a book known as the Acts of Peter, which was not included in the canon of Scriptures. Its considered Apocrypha - church writings that are held as valuable and to be read but not to be used for doctrine in the Christian faith, like the canonized books of the New Testament. And church tradition tells us that the apostle Paul was arrested for the second time and somewhere around that time Peter was martyred. And in this letter, Peter does not explicitly say who he is writing to, he just says this is my second letter to you. So, we can assume that he is writing to the same people that he was writing to in the first letter. That being, Hebrew believers who had been scattered throughout the Roman provinces of Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia Minor, and Bithynia - all in modern-day Turkey. And he's writing to remind them to strengthen their faith that had been born, in the first place, in hope, and to guard what they had learned and not be swept away or carried away by everything everybody was saying and every false teacher that came along. Rather than just blowing by this, it's important to know that Peter would've known he was about to die. He says as much in the letter. This is the man who walked with Jesus along the Sea of Galilee, saw miracles performed, laughed with Jesus, cried with Jesus, lived with Him. Ate his last supper with Him, and denied Him, and then overcame the regret of that, watched Jesus being nailed through the hands and feet to a cross, watched Him die, saw Him raised to life. Peter was there in the upper room when the Holy Spirit came and transformed him. And he preached that first sermon where 3000 people came to Christ. He was an early church leader, an early church father, and devoted his life to the Savior. These would be the final living words of the apostle Peter and they should hold some weight in our lives as we read them. And, so, we begin. Second Peter chapter 1 verses 1 through 21.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for the rhythm that it brings to our lives and the context that it gives to our days. We thank You for the way that You are transforming us from within through Your word. And we thank You for the council that we found in second Peter today, that we should do our best to improve our faith. And that is one of the reasons we come to Your word every day. And, so, we invite Your Holy Spirit to help us do exactly that, improve our faith. And You tell us in Your word that we can do this by adding goodness and understanding and self-control and patience and devotion to You, Father, concern for others, and love. You tell us that if we will keep growing in this direction, if this is where our focus is, then we will begin to see how You are making our lives useful and meaningful through it. So, come Holy Spirit. As we turn in those directions lead us forward, show us how to grow in these areas we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website. It’s home base. It’s where you find out what's going on around here.

And, of course, what's going on around here right now is…well…a lot…but the Daily Audio Bible Christmas Box is available and we’ve been talking about that. And one of the things in the Christmas Box this year is this book by my friend Ian called The Road Back to You. And, so, Jill’s down here in the studio with me.

Brian - Hi Jill.

Jill - Hi babe.

Brian - This is a book that we both read this year. Some of it we read together this year. And it impacted us both pretty profoundly. What are a couple of things about it that stand out to you?

Jill – It was really good and it was really hard, but I think it was the most helpful relationship book I've ever read.

Brian – Why?

Jill - It was the most insightful.

Brian – Because the funny thing is, it's not really a relationship book.

Jill – No. But once you have the information, it’s like, it can only be applicable in every one of your relationships going forward.

Brian – Yeah.

Jill - I mean, even in the relationship with yourself, but, we’ve done some of the other personality tests, but this is, by far, I felt like it honed in the most, it was the most accurate, and I think those other ones are as Yes, E, F, J, S, Q, 3, 5…and I just couldn't…it didn’t stick for me, but, like this one, I’m like a solid 4, I’m solid complicated, and it just was really amazing in that…I mean…well…you read both of our numbers together and I laughed…I laughed for yours...just because it was like…wow…you are right this time…and I cried with mine…just because it's a little bit more complicated of feeling like you don't belong anywhere and very lonely sometimes and just feeling like, oh yeah, that's how God created me or that's whatever happened in my life that ended me up like this…that's where I’m at. So, it was very validating, very affirming, very insightful, and a little bit hard.

Brian – Let’s talk about the night we were sitting on the couch and I had read this book and I was talking to you about it and you were kind of thinking, yeah, whatever, it’s just one of those other things. But I’m like, no, let's find your number. And, so, we go through all these questions and work our way through until we get there. And then I read the chapter and, yeah, by the time I was done with that chapter you were in tears. Why was that?

Jill - Just…man…I don’t know if I can even talk about it now without tears. Well, I'm just…I'm all emotion…that’s who I am…but when you get so specific to where…like…I know this sounds ridiculous…but clothing has been a big part in my life. I love clothes. I love to express myself in clothes. And I don't like clothing that looks like everybody else. Like, I have since I was a child, and I would exasperate my mom by how many times I changed clothes because if I didn't feel like wearing that anymore during the day, I would change clothes. And for him to talk about clothing in the number of a form of expression and creativity, it was like, it just was like somebody gets it…and it's okay that that’s who I am. Because it can feel like that you have those parts of yourself that you don't even like about yourself, but for somebody to go, oh, and by the way, yeah, I get that this is who you are. For that to be validated…just to go…okay…I see you… it's okay.

Brian - Yeah. Absolutely. And…it…I mean…it affirms you in a lot of positive ways and then it exposes the underbelly of that, the shadow side…that’s…you know…the struggle that we have, you know, with all kinds of things inside of ourselves.

Jill - Exposed.

Brian - Yeah, exposed. It’s very accurate.

Jill – Exposed is probably the best word to describe.

Brian – Yeah. It’s just really, really helpful to get a dispassionate, honest look into your own temperament and, you know, it begins to give you context for why you do the things that you do and then it goes beyond that and tells you, you know, you have developed all of this to cope, but beneath that is truth and this is where the Holy Spirit lives. It's been very helpful that way.

Jill – But I feel like it goes beyond just like, this is who you are. I feel like it's almost a little bit invasive of like…let’ get to the heart of who you are. And we to it by explaining all of these other things of your personality.

Brian - I think that’ true. I think that’s well said. I think it’s…I mean…I’m not up for these kinds of tests either. We've taken them all. And this was the one thing that I felt was peeling back the layers so that you could find your own heart. And we’re all about that and so is the Bible. And, so, it's been really, really helpful.

And I'm glad that we could make arrangements for that to be included in the Christmas Box this year.

And the other thing that we've got going on that we’re announcing today is the open, pre-registration for the More gathering that's coming up this April, that you lead every year. So, tell us a little about that.

Jill – You know, every year I say…I just get a little bit more excited. It is so true. I…my anticipation only builds every year. It never seems to dissipate. It’s…I'm so excited for this year for some reason. Registration is open and we are…like…let's do this. If you are sitting on the fence, just come. I recently did a women's pilgrimage with 30 women that I've never met. I only knew one person coming. And I feel like I sort of…God invited me to that…so that I could first identify every single fear and emotion that these women that I invite coming to More feel or experience, just to remind me. And I get it. But the one thing the Lord really started speaking to me before I was coming was, I want you to face every single one of those fears, I want you to call them out, and I want you to give them to me. Not to give them power. Not to prop them up. But so that we can overcome them together. And I can tell you that every single fear, I actually wrote them down, He addressed, specifically and personally with me, intimately, up close on this pilgrimage. And I know that He does the same thing at More. So, that would be my biggest, my first step, of…you're going to have all of those feelings and fears…they're going to surface. Even if your husband buys it for you and gives it to you as a gift for a Christmas present, you're going to experience those fears. Like, what is it going to be like? I’m going to be all alone. And nobody like…I won’t meet anybody…there won’t be any friends…and…da…da...da…da...da. And God will address every single one of those fears with you intimately. So, sign up. Take advantage of the $50 off to the end of this year and come and let’s explore the heart of a woman’s yearning for more together.

Brian – So, the Daily Audio Bible Christmas box is available now. And they’re going fast as they always do. Those of you who are ordering internationally, just a couple of days on that. We feel like the 29th is the last pretty safe date for Christmas. Of course, you can order whenever you want. Just want to give you a heads up on Christmas delivery. Those of you in the United States, we’re still good for a while. So, be sure to check it out. There are things in there that you will want for yourself and there are things in there that you will want to give away. And the magic is, you get to choose. And we love doing that each year.

And as Jill just said, the More gathering is coming up and early registration is open now at dailyaudiobible.com in the initiatives section.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible here as we move toward the end of the year, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There's a link on the homepage. If you prefer the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Springhill Tennessee 37174.

And as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise Reports:

My name is Glenn. I’m from Irving, Texas. I’m addicted to pain medication and alcohol. I’ve tried everything I could to quit. I’ve been asking God to take it away from me and that urge just keeps coming back. I went almost 3 years and I had I accident at work that required some pain medication. I could have refused but I let it happen. The whole year I've been hooked. So, this is Glenn, once again, from Irving. I need the prayers of the saints for me right now to save me from opiate addiction. It is a demon and it’s destroying my life. Thank you, Daily Audio Bible. Love you, Blind Tony.

Hey Daily Audio Bible family. This is John Corrado. I hope you're doing well. Look it, I just want to take a minute to…so…this is like a comment more than anything else…and maybe I’ll ask for some prayer afterwards as well. I wasn’t sure that you’re all aware…maybe you are…some of you at least anyway…that there is an additional resource for you that’s available for the Daily Audio Bible…and that is the Tumblr blog of the Daily Audio Bible. And what that is are transcripts from the Daily Audio Bible podcast from each day. So, essentially, the welcome message that you hear from Brian every day, the commentary that you hear from Brian every day, the prayer over the Scriptures that we read and the commentary that Brian provides to us each day, the announcements from the Daily Audio Bible, and then the community prayers and praise reports. I’m not sure you guys were aware that…and I became aware of it…oh…I don’t know…a couple years ago…and was just so blessed to be able to go back and read what Brian had said through the commentary. There's so many priceless gems that he puts out there because of…awe…just because he's been around this so much…and he’s very knowledgeable of it all….as goes without saying. So, if that's interesting to you or if you would benefit from being able to go back and look at his commentary and prayer requests, and praise reports, and announcements. Go to dailyaudiobible.tumblr.com. I love you guys. I hope you guys tap into that resource. And I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. God bless you all.

Hi family. This is His little Cheri from Canada and I finished listening to the community prayer for November 18th. And when I listen I doodle your names as prayers for all of you and then I put the doodle page up on my wall. Right now, I have 20 doodle pages, I counted them and I’m sure that eventually they’ll wallpaper my whole room. It’s kind of ___. And today I felt the Lord wanted me to encourage you to let your ideas of prayer out of the box and get creative because I don’t think that prayer doesn’t need to be as hard or as complicated as we make it. Anything that we do with the Lord is prayer because prayer is communion with Him. Right? So, if it’s good and it’s right and its fun it can be prayer. And I spend a lot of time doing puzzles and lately I’ve been turning puzzle time into prayer time. The last puzzle I did was the Norman Rockwell puzzle, maybe you know it, with the doctor preparing to give the little boy shot, and he’s intently studying the doctor’s diplomas on the wall. And I realized that while I put this puzzle together I could be thinking specifically of people who need healing. And as I put the pieces together, I could ask the Lord to bring the pieces of their healing together, to complete their healing. And, so, that’s what I did. And it was so much fun. And it was so interesting to see which parts of the puzzle I was doing as I was thinking of specific people. Anyways, it was really meaningful. So, my question to you is, what do you like to do? And how can you turn it into prayer time? Maybe it’s cooking or gardening or working on cars. Whatever it is, ask the Lord to show you and I’m sure that he will. Turn it into prayer. Alright family. That’s it for now. Thanks so much. Bye-bye.

Hi. My name is Donna and I’m calling from California. This is my first time calling in a prayer request. I’m a little bit nervous about it, but I know you all are friends and I am very, very thankful for this. I started listening to the Daily Audio Bible last spring / early summer and it has really blessed me in so many ways. Thank you Brian and Jill and everybody who makes this possible. I’m calling to request prayers for myself. First and foremost because…I really feel…believe...have come to believe…that I’ve got some strongholds that I just am not able to get over by myself and I need help with that. I’ve had some things in my past, some bad choices that I’ve made that certainly have not helped. So, I’m not really sure how much to reveal but I have found myself in relationships that were very destructive. I trusted some people that I shouldn't have, unwisely, and it has been very detrimental and I am left with so much shame and so much regret and I just need to give this to God and I need to be healed so that I can be a blessing to Him. That’s what I want the rest of my life to be. So, thank you so much. And, also, if you could please pray for this ministry. It is such a blessing. Thank you. Thank you.

Hi Daily Audio Bible. This is Rebecca from Michigan and it’s November 23rd, two days before Thanksgiving. And a couple of days ago I decide to work on doing a month of thankfulness and gratefulness instead of complaining, which, now that I walk through this door I feel I am complaining all the time and I sometimes want to complain. So, I want to start by thanking God today. So, I’m thankful, even though I’m single and I’m not married. There’s a thankful part about being single. I can basically go where I want. I don’t have to answer to a husband and I don’t have to have in-laws or a mother-in-law. I guess that’s a thankful part, but I am a mother-in-law, so, I like that. And I have a beautiful, healthy, intelligent child ___ and one coming on the way. And I’m beyond more than I deserve as a person. And yesterday I finished another financial ___ university class online. I learned more about how to by houses. So, I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful that I have a Thanksgiving dinner coming and some people have to eat beans and rice. Some people don’t have a roof over their head. I’m thankful that I have a roof over my head, a warm bed to sleep in, and I have lights, and I have heat, and some people are sleeping on the street and eating garbage. So, I thank You Jesus, for all You have given to me and a car to go to work and go places and enjoy life and I wanted to…I want to start doing that…giving thanks…

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sminacs · 7 years ago

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As strange as this may sound, the vital moment that sparked the concept for my thesis was at a crowded house party. As I stood in the center of a stranger's living room, packed wall to wall with sweaty bodies in motion, I could feel the rising energy. As I maneuvered my way through the bouncing crowd, I felt claustrophobic, but not in a physical way. I was born an empath, an Indigo Child; clairvoyant individuals who possess supernatural traits and abilities. To sum it up, I was misdiagnosed with ADHD as a child, I am extremely intuitive and particularly sensitive to others feelings, to the extent that I subconsciously adapt them. It doesn't help that my sun sign is Gemini, a zodiac renowned for its multiple personalities and easy adaptability, so I often become a mirror held up to whoever I'm nearby. Considering this, you can imagine how overwhelmed I must have been in that crowded townhouse, and how urgently I must have grabbed my friend's arm and took refuge on the staircase, sitting and dangling our feet above the pool of sharks underneath us. As we took that break and I watched these people snaking through each other like ants digging tunnels, I found something newly intriguing about it. I found strange comfort in observing this complicated flux of energy and tried my best to make out the visual concept of glowing energy fields surrounding each body. I thought about something I had read a year prior; when I had first began my spiritual journey and was curious about the empath phenomenon. The book had touched on the topic of auras and energetic fields, specifically those surrounding human beings. It warned those sensitive to others frequencies to cleanse their own aura/field on a consistent basis, as we pick up on particles of others auras like a cloth wiping dust off the countertop. So I tried to visualize the complicated flow of drifting particles from aura to aura, and I even considered the social connections, what that might look like if it were drawn out over this crowd of people. This is why I don't get invited to parties any more.

I guess I'll go back to when I was first learning about this concept. Although our elementary science school classes have taught us this since we were 10 years old, I had never truly thought about the fact that everything is energy. I knew the laws of energy, and that every physical object is made up of atoms that are always moving and vibrating. However, I never considered that as a result, everything and everyone emanates a unique vibration/frequency, and I especially did not consider what effect one vibration might have on another. Or even the fact that NON-physical/visible things, such as emotions or feelings, give off a vibration as well, and that thought is the most potent of all vibrations.

Most people are only looking inside our frame of knowledge. In other words, they only relate to what they can see, verify and test. They rely only on their 5 senses to tell them what their reality is. They are only using their sensory level to define their frame of knowledge in the time we are living. We need to realize that something can be a reality even though we can't use our 5 senses to verify it.

It wasn't until years later that I truly began to understand that if we are energy, and everything around us is energy, there must be some form of a connection amongst this huge sea of vibrational energy. Researchers from UCLA, Princeton Engineering Anomalies Research Laboratory, St. Petersburg University and Bielefield University have all found evidence that we do in fact emit – and receive – sources of energy.While I was watching the crowd at the party from above, I observed the physical effects everybody had on each other, as individuals wove their way through a pool of people or the way large groups merged and fluctuated, or a couple friends danced with one another or the intimate moment a couple was sharing in the corner. There were so many interactions happening simultaneously, it was quite overwhelming to think about how these interactions would look on a metaphysical level. However, the idea stuck and the curiosity persisted. I truly wanted to discover if our coexistence of vibes, our auras, could have a profound effect on one another. This thesis project became a great platform for me to study further what I was so intrigued by and what affected me on a day-to-day basis.

To get some genuine answers, I conducted a field study, where I publicly asked online a very broad question, and received 28 responses about an intimate moment these individuals have had in their lives. I decided to keep the question so general, as to keep answers genuine, unbiased and personal -- where each response is unique to each individual. I asked these people to describe the most significant intimate interaction they have had with someone in their life, without mention of anything spiritual/metaphysical. I conducted this simple questionnaire as one of the first sources for my research on this subject, and the real, raw, touching responses became a huge motivating element to continue my thesis on this topic. Here are a few anonymous responses I received:

-The first time I kissed someone of the same sex and actually meant it in a romantic way was life changing. I still remember the whole entire interaction. The whole ride home I felt the tingle of his lips still lingering on mine. My whole body was buzzing. To this day when I think of him he will always mean something to me because of the moment we shared

-My boyfriend and I got into a fight around October. We were outside at a park and he was yelling and stormed off. As I was sitting on a bench sobbing, this older lady (a stranger) approached me and started rubbing my hair and back as she gave me a prayer. She was praying for happiness and for me and the "gentlemen" to have a happy, healthy, and loving relationship. She had no idea who I was. That was one of the nicest things someone has ever done for me.

-Upon hearing the news of my dad remarrying, my mom gathered my sister and I in her room and we just sat by the bed and cried together. I was still on the younger side and didn't have the best idea of the situation or its significance, but seeing the strongest women I knew crying before me hit me pretty hard.

-The most intimate I've been with someone was with my first love. We had just had sex and we cuddled each other to sleep while naked. I've never felt comfortable being naked but I did then. Skin against skin is something unexplainable

-Being awake late at night on the phone with my best friend. Crying because I loved her so much, being vulnerable, being honest, being met with the same understanding and love. Pure.

-after everyone left the party and we were glued to the patio deck, listening to the sounds of the night and staring at the clear night sky. It was with a best friend and another friend but something about that night, everything was out in the open and our souls were just completely exposed to one another. I have never felt a stronger connection to anyone then i have to those two people that night

- I'd never been looked at the way he looked at me. It was the way someone's eyes look when they hear a beautiful symphony moving them to tears or the way someone looks at an astounding piece of visual art. It was like he was looking directly into my soul and looking through me. I was still thinking about it hours later when I was with another friend of mine. I told her, "that was the most intimate moment I think I've ever had. I've never felt so vulnerable but also so loved and appreciated". It was even stranger that it happened in such a random place such as class, because when you think of intimacy you think of being alone with someone. But in reality the most intimate moments can be shared in just day to day life. What I find most profound about it is that that moment was when I knew that I would cross oceans for this man and that our connection was anything but ordinary. It's funny how just looking at someone's eyes can foster such a feeling of intimacy and pure vulnerability and acceptance. How such a deep connection was made without physical contact or words of any kind. Overall, I believe that that moment was the deepest connection I've ever shared with another person, and the moment I recognized the love of my life.

-The most intimate connections that I have had with others were always those where people let the walls around their heart fall. Once I had a conversation with one of my best friends behind the football bleachers at my school and we both expressed what it felt like to be heartbroken. He was never someone to express anything other than happiness and sarcasm, as was I. But we both felt the same pain beyond description and to express it was a burden off of our hearts. Needless to say there was quite a bit of hugging and crying and yelling about awful things in this world that shouldn't happen but do. But not all moments of intimacy in life are negative. For me attraction is simply a small part of intimacy. True intimacy comes from love and closeness.

-If you look up the definition of intimacy, you'll find that the root of intimacy is trust. I had always assumed it was more of a sexy word. Intimacy begins as fragile and blind, and these first stages have many of the most breathtaking moments. But it's once trust has been built up that truly 'intimate' moments can happen. My most intimate moments are with my lover, lounging about half naked, not caring which way my body squishes or how it appears

-It was 2-3 years ago. I discovered that I was bisexual back then. I live in a country where being gay is illegal, which was why I couldn't be comfortable of who I was. I needed someone to help me, but I didn't know who to talk to. I spoke to my computing teacher about it, and he told me that he knew it was hard to accept it and to live with it. He also stated it was very normal, was not a sickness and he would always be there for me. After he ended his speech, he came near me and hugged me. That hug... Words cannot express how good that hug made me feel. I felt like I was finally accepted; more importantly, I had accepted myself. It was like I was in a black hole where I was all alone, and someone took my hand and got me out of that hole. Since then, I knew that there was at least one person who would always be there for me. And that hug proved it. You can never know how important just one hug can be for a person.

These findings gave me a whole new positive perspective on the topic, and by hearing real stories from people, the concept resonated with me on a new personal level. It made me truly think about the sea of energy we call life, and how we all intertwine and entangle with not just people we pass by every day on the street, but those we are closest with, and how beautiful those interactions can be. These anonymous, personal stories related to the topic of my thesis affirmed that the idea of intimacy a highly significant subject for people. The project itself took on new, positive meaning, but additionally the way I apply these aura principles to my everyday life became much more positive and dynamic - hearing stories from others made me think about the significant role my own energy field could play in all this. I realized that I had the potential, the power, to help create more of these beautiful moments described by anonymous participants, and that as an Indigo child, I had an obligation to create positive shifts in the energetic atmosphere around me.

Because you are part of the universe, the ripples come back to you and give you back a doze of similar essence. You cause a change in the energy field around and in you, and it ripples, touching everything. And everything of course ripples back in reaction, sending it back to you, all multiplied.

Everything you do - how you behave and how you think and feel will be vibrated into this sea of energy and hence it is affecting everyone in it - making a ripple.Anything you do, any thought you have, ripples on forever and changes the composition of the whole universe, however small that change is.

The best thing you can do to make this a better world is to change your own attitude to everything around you - people, animals, plants - think positive and act accordingly.

When you get intimate with anyone you merge with their energy. Christians often call this connection ‘Soul ties’. It is also widely discussed in the study of Tantric Sex.

Many, including I, believe that we are permanent souls in temporary bodies- a particle of the Divine, of the Creator, The Source - God.

With many of my paintings, I spend a great deal of time trying to decide composition and how my subject will be posed in order to best convey the mood/message of the piece. However, with these paintings, as soon as I came up with the topic, I had a distinct vision in my mind of exactly what I was trying to convey. This idea had been dormant in my mind for so long, it's as if I had been subconsciously planning this design for nearly a year, as if it was a visual I was destined to create, as if my mind was begging me to unveil these plaguing thoughts in a creative way. For my first painting, I was very much focused on the individual and the unique aura each person is emanating. Due to the fact that this piece is so focused on introducing the concept of the aura, I did some further research on what auras are before I began sketching out the design that was in my head. An aura is a colourful, multi-layered oval energy field that is sometimes referred to as a psychic energy field. All living things are surrounded by an aura, which are oval-shaped, coloured bands of sounds, lights and vibrations. Scientifically, these magnetic energy fields are a complex combination of atoms, molecules and energy cells and can be sensed, felt and even seen around the physical body. Spiritually, the aura can provide insight into the spiritual, emotional and physical aspects of the individual. It contains information about our physical, emotional and spiritual health and can reflect the condition of our chakras, holding a multitude of information about one's past, present and future. The aura is something that I believe must be familiar to the individual, and purified, before interacting with others fields. This is why I chose to paint an individual prior to introducing the interaction between auras.

The Kirlian camera really assisted me in developing the visuals of the aura in my painting when I began to experiment with high flow paint. In Russia, 1939, Kirlian photography became the first real scientific method of capturing the glow or energy field surrounding a living subject, using a high voltage camera which converts the non-electrical properties of an object into electrical properties. The following images are a result, showcasing evidence of a human aura. With this first painting, I wanted to depict the individual in an utter state of peace/serenity as they lay lavishly in their aura. To further focus on the purification & cleansing of the individual aura prior to deep interactions with others, I depicted the individual as though they were submerged in water, as ocean water contains salt and minerals, and submerging yourself in water helps cleanse your aura by drawing out minor psychic debris.

As you walk around this world, and you interact with the world around you, you are also interacting with the auras of others – you are interacting with their energy. As your aura crosses the aura of another, you are given a brief glimpse into the experiences of another.

I had read something similar to this in the past and not felt as strongly about it as I did after filming my 2nd thesis. This part of my thesis was probably one of the most significant in terms of keeping me intrigued and inspired by the original concept. I chose to use film as my medium for this second piece, using it to purely showcase my intentions with the project overall, using visuals that distinctly show and tie together the idea of energies interacting. I had never done anything like this before; filming strangers sharing intimate moments. At first it felt very creepy and strange… because it is creepy and strange… but some of the things I documented just by watching others like a creep, are things I would not have noticed otherwise. It was extremely eye opening to view these people like that townhouse party, with the world as my crowded living room, focusing in on all the many, many personal moments that happen within the large picture of life that we hardly take a chance to observe or appreciate. As I was making my way to the city on one of the warmest days we had in April, I did not know what to expect. I figured many people would be outside due to the good weather, but I was nervous that all I would see is people passing each other without acknowledgement, I was scared that everyone would uphold he same attitude as they do on the city subway; no one paying each other attention of any kind, everyone keeping to themselves. I was not feeling certain about what I would capture that day, and I was truly hoping I could document interactions that would fit the preconceived vision I had for this film.

I was extremely happy with what I documented that day. I observed several connections around me in a completely new way. I did not expect to find such sweet moments of intimacy in the busy city, and it was extremely powerful to depict what I imagined the auras of those people would look like as they intertwined and connected.

Now after not only researching about, but seeing these very intimate moments where certainly an interaction of auras took place, I felt strongly about my third piece (the 2nd painting) and was very excited to dive in. Surely intimacy is not limited to romance; my field study proved this. An individual even stated "If you look up the definition of intimacy, you'll find that the root of intimacy is trust. I had always assumed it was more of a sexy word. Intimacy begins as fragile and blind, and these first stages have many of the most breathtaking moments. But it's once trust has been built up that truly 'intimate' moments can happen". However, romance is powerful not only on a vibrational level, but is visually dynamic.

When we live in the love vibration, our energy resonates at a high frequency and we express the God-qualities of compassion, forgiveness, tolerance, respect, generosity, joy, peace—all that inspires, empowers and enhances life. The love vibration lifts us to a higher state of consciousness and frees us of the thoughts, feelings, and actions that minimize and victimize us. Gone are any neurotic fear, guilt, judgment, greed, envy, arrogance, and the ego's stubborn need to be right.

I chose to depict two lovers about to kiss to show not only the close physical proximity, but what that would look like if these individuals auras were about to intertwine. I allowed the auras to spill into each other as a gradient, as these lovers share an intimate moment. This passionate, loving visual was the perfect closure for this thesis, as I initially explored the power of the individual aura in my first painting, then discovered the genuine nature of aura connections when I was filming my second piece. I was so touched by watching such intimate interactions take place, that went into this piece with a loving, positive mindset, fully believing and standing by the subject matter.

This entire thesis project allowed me to develop new knowledge and experience surrounding the effects that our energy fields have on one another. I discovered how truly significant and real the influence we have on each other is. As an empath, I become easily affected by negative vibes which becomes emotionally exhausting at times. Although it allows me to fully understand others pain and completely adapt to the emotion, whether I want to or not. It even reaches the point that if I walk into a room and someone is deeply sad, my eyes begin to tear up and I am overcome with deeply sad emotions for no reason particularly relevant to my life. But I pick up on what others feel very quickly and extremely vividly. This is why I really have no choice but to be vegan, otherwise I would just cry at every meal. As funny as that sounds, it is very very true. Before starting this project, I would struggle with this strong intuition of mine and the way others emotions stuck to me. Even walking down the halls at school, if I pass an individual or a small group of people experiencing tension, stress, sadness, or anger, I feel a pang of it and it sticks with me for a couple moments. This became emotionally exhausting, but further research into this topic for this assignment reminded me how beautiful that phenomenon can be. I realize that my energy field, my vibrations are powerful and influential. I don't have to let others negative emotions influence me, instead I can send my powerful loving vibrations to others to help shift the vibes of not only those I'm intimate with, but the rest of the world on some level. I feel like my art is my channel for transmitting these positive vibes globally, and especially because I focused on such an uplifting and spiritual concept that means so much to me. Scientists around the world are continuing to discover evidence that supports the notion that we do, in fact, have very unique, very real energy fields that do interconnect. And these affect everything from our thoughts, emotions, to the way we interact with other people and make decisions.

Our vibrating, positive energy can influence those around us. Thoughts cause ripples in this sea of energy. A shift in one part of that massive field of energy ripples on and causes shifts in the parts next to it and they cause shifts in the parts next to them and that ripple goes on forever.

Thank you so much for reading,

love sare xoxo

Works Cited

"The Law of Vibration." Is This Universe One Big Sea of Energy - Are We All Connected? N.p., n.d. Web. 12 June 2017. <http://www.one-mind-one-energy.com/Law-of-vibration.html>.

Marshall, Shirley. "Living in the Love Vibration." Unity. N.p., 13 Feb. 2014. Web. 12 June 2017. <http://www.unity.org/resources/articles/living-love-vibration>.

"What Is an Aura? The Human Energy Field Defined." Sarah Petruno Shamanism. N.p., 02 Mar. 2016. Web. 12 June 2017. <https://www.sarahpetrunoshamanism.com/blog/auradefinition/>.

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backtothestart02 · 8 years ago

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Full and Aching | A Westallen Fanfic | 1/1

A/N: Less than half an hour left, but I made it happen! I hope you all enjoy. There will likely at least be some changes after my beta has had a look for when I post to AO3/FFnet, but for the most part, I like how it turned out. :)

*For Iris West Week - DAY TWO - Iris & Barry. This is the 1x23 scene on the rooftop told entirely in Iris’s POV. It’s not 1st person, but you don’t get to know anyone else’s thoughts (er, Barry’s), so I think it still qualifies as her POV. ;)

Confused, angry, frustrated, at a loss, longing, consumed with guilt… She’d felt all of those things the last time she was on this rooftop. Most of them had been directed at Barry for his deception and because of her desperation in not knowing where Eddie was; and if he was okay. And because of her emotions that were going haywire. Her feelings for more than one man that made things unbelievably complicated.

Yet now, here Barry stood, looking exactly as she had, staring out at the city for answers it couldn’t give either of them. The city compelled one to look out at its lights and the humming evening traffic below. Up above it, everything was so peaceful. Though her mind hadn’t been, and now neither was his.

Seeing him as silently distressed as she had been, any anger she’d felt mere weeks ago dissolved.

“Thought I might find you here.”

Startled, Barry turned to look at her, almost exactly the way she had turned to him.

“This is…your spot,” he’d said when she’d looked at him the same way he was looking at her now.

She smiled at the similarity.

“I needed to get out of the lab,” he said, coming down off his perch so he was at her level. “I thought this would be a good place to think.”

“Oh, it is, trust me,” she assured him, pleased by the light-hearted tone he’d picked up. She sobered up for a moment. “I have done a lot of thinking up here.”

It was only a moment though.

“When I wasn’t having clandestine meetings with the mysterious Streak,” she remarked, for the first time teasing him for his secret identity.

Barry smiled at the crack, and a laugh slipped through. Hers. The tension had been so high between them lately. She’d forgotten what his smile looked like and that something he did could make her laugh.

“Yeah…not mad we lost that name,” he remarked unapologetically.

“Hey, I thought that had pazzaz!”

He laughed with her and shook his head. “No.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, not offended in the slightest, eager to make him light up again.

But silence lingered instead, drawing them further into the night, searching the city lights for answers that weren’t there.

She turned her head to look at him, analyzing the downcast look on his face as if it held all the answers. Or the one answer that she was scared to death to hear pass through his lips.

“So, are you gonna do it?”

A heavy sigh accompanied his heavy heart. The light between them was squashed, as if it had never been there to begin with.

“It’s just so…huge,” he said, wearily.

Iris nodded, looked away a little, tears already starting to form.

“It’s the biggest decision of my life. And…if I’m wrong, I can’t undo it.”

“Why would you want to?” She cut in, forcing herself to face him. This was an answer she wanted too, but not even to herself would she admit why.

“I mean, you’d get to see your mom again,” she continued, because she needed to, “your dad, have a great career…”

Eddie’s words from earlier flashed through her mind. Just a second. And then they were gone.

We don’t get married. You and Barry do.

“Even get married.”

Barry’s double-take was obvious, but she never looked away.

“Iris West-Allen, huh?” She didn’t acknowledge his little smile, just kept going. “I never really thought of myself as a hyphenator. Must be a 2024 thing.”

She laughed again, but this time he didn’t join her. A touchy subject, as she should have guessed.

“We don’t know that that’s gonna happen…” He tried to brush it off. Embarrassed, probably, he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

For some reason, she couldn’t let it go.

“Do you think because you didn’t… With us… That’s why things are different there?”

Barry shook his head slightly, as if her vague questions were clearer than they’d ever been.

“Growing up together and…knowing so much about each other…it made it hard for me to admit how I felt about you.”

She nodded, looked away, wished for what felt like the hundredth time that he would’ve found the courage to tell her sooner.

“And I waited too long, and you fell in love with Eddie.”

He shared her gaze for a moment longer before looking away. Not long enough for her to contradict him, even though that’d been her first instinct. Not that she would’ve known exactly what to say even if he had given her a clear opening.

Her tongue was thick in her mouth, heavy, and her mind was fuzzy. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in this state around him during the past year, but it was the first time she didn’t feel this overwhelming need to defend her behavior or deny any inconvenient feelings.

This time she only felt guilty, and she also heard – Eddie and I broke up – in the back of her mind, which made her feel even worse for both the men in her life. Or maybe there was just one now, which somehow didn’t make talking about it any easier.

“But living with you and Joe,” Barry continued, pulling her out of her weighed-down thoughts. “I’ve had a great life, Iris.”

She smiled tremulously and her eyes filled to the brink, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the tears spilled over.

She loved him.

She loved him with everything that was in her.

How was it possible to love someone this much?

“Come here, Barry,” she whispered, clinging to him in the hug she needed, afraid she’d lose him forever if she even thought of letting go.

Her face hidden from him, she let the tears flow.

“What do you think I should do?”

By some miracle, she managed to restrain the gasp hovering between her lips.

The question was too big.

“I need someone to tell me,” he added, pleading for her to be the one.

But it was too big. Too big. It hurt. It was too much. How could she answer such a big, heavy, life-changing question? One that would erase their entire relationship as they knew it, and she wouldn’t even remember? He wouldn’t either? Her whole life with Barry Allen by her side would probably be gone. Everything she cherished, everything she loved that had the markings of her Bear on it…would be completely altered forever.

After a few achingly long heartbeats, she realized one thing.

It hadn’t changed yet.

And right now, her best friend needed her.

She pulled away, took some comfort in how he couldn’t meet her eyes at first either, and put her whole heart into what she had to say and what he needed to hear.

“I think, that for once in your life, Barry Allen, you should stop thinking about other people.” She kept going, lest she lose her nerve. “Look, I think you should do what’s in your heart. Do what you need to do for yourself.”

He held her gaze for longer than any other point in their conversation thus far and understanding hit her as hard as his first romantic love confession had. That night had changed everything, just as this would.

She knew he’d made his decision, and that she had been the one to get him there.

#iriswestweek #westallen #westallenedit #backtothestart02 fanfiction #iris west #barry allen #1.23 #fanfiction #barry x iris #season 1

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wormtitty · 8 years ago

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Recovery - Alec/Magnus

Episode coda for 2x08 - let me know what you think!

The late afternoon sun shone through the stained glass windows, warming the room with its colors. Max’s rune ceremony was beautiful. For a few hours, the Lightwoods were able to forget about Valentine, demons, and other threats to focus on the youngest member of their family. Alec walked with his brother down the aisle with family and friends on either side of them: Jace and Clary to the right, and Maryse and Izzy to the left.

And when Max got his first rune, all eyes were on him. For ten seconds, they celebrated the young shadowhunter. Alec watched as Jace pulled Clary away, talking about her safety, he supposed. Maryse dismissed the Silent Brother and the family was alone.

“Max, come with me to the kitchen so we can dig into the delicious cake you picked out.” Maryse said as she took Max by the shoulder and led him towards the exit. The rest of the shadowhunters followed suit, Isabelle’s heels clicking on the floor as she rushed after her little brother into the institute’s kitchen.

When Jace left Alec and Clary alone, the now familiar guilt crawled up his spine. He desperately wanted to believe that she truly didn’t blame him, and the sincerity in her eyes allowed him to pat her arm in recognition. He hasn’t forgiven himself yet; isn’t sure that he ever will.

As he walked closer to Jace and his mother, Alec overheard Maryse apologize, and the tightness in his chest loosened a bit. It broke his heart when the first tear fell from his mother’s eyes. Even in her weakest moment, he realized, she was truly beautiful. How anyone could cheat on her, he would never understand. As he held his sobbing mother in his arms, Alec made two vows.

One, he would give Maryse another chance to redeem herself. She’d made things right with Jace and the next logical step would be to apologize to Magus.

As for the second, Alec vowed to never hurt Magnus in such a way that Robert hurt Maryse. He couldn’t see the future, but he knew with all of his heart that he wanted one with the warlock. He couldn’t imagine intentionally hurting him, and he promised to try his best to always be a safe space for Magnus.

Max was on his second piece of cake when Alec walked into the kitchen. He looked incredibly tired, but his eyes lit up when they landed on his youngest sibling.

“Is the cake good?” He asked as he cut a small slice for himself. Max hummed in agreement, his mouth full with a bit of frosting on his chin. Alec smiled and grabbed a napkin to wipe Max’s face. He looked up sheepishly and mumbled a quick “thanks” before shoveling more cake into his mouth. After he’d finished the last bite, Max cleared his throat to get his brother’s attention.

“Alec, I’m sorry. About last night.” Alec frowned as he remembered the night he so desperately wanted to forget. Max continued, “I didn’t mean to be so mean to Magnus. But he’s the first warlock I’ve ever met… and it was a little scary.” He shrugged, suddenly very interested in the empty plate before him. “But it wasn’t very nice to ask him all those things about the darker parts of him. And I’m sorry I didn’t make a very good first impression. Magnus must hate me.” Alec’s gaze sharpened at that, locking eyes with his brother as he leaned on the counter to speak.

“Max, Magnus doesn’t hate you. In fact, I’m afraid he thinks you hate him.” Max’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He was so excited to meet you. I understand that you’d feel a little uncomfortable in a strange warlock’s home for the first time. I did.” Alec blushed at that, hoping Max wouldn’t notice. “But there’s a reason why I asked Magnus to have the party at his place. I wanted Mom to know that Magnus, as my… boyfriend,” the word felt odd coming from his mouth for the first time, “isn’t going away. I guess we’re sort of a packaged deal.” Alec finished with a lopsided smile, emotion clear on his face.

“Do you love Magnus?” Max asked simply. And Alec paused to think about that. A week ago he would’ve outright shut the idea down. But now… he was allowed to think of love. He loved Magnus’ laugh, and his hands as they danced with magic. He loved many things about Magnus.

“It’s still really early in the relationship, Max. I think it’s a bit more complicated than a yes or no. But yeah, I think I could love him, if we continue dating like we are.” Alec didn’t expect Max to understand, but he was surprised when his little brother just smiled and nodded.

When Alec glanced at his phone, he saw that he’d missed a message from Magnus. It was getting late, and Alec wished Max a good night as he headed towards the loft he’d began to think of as a second home.

It was late in the evening when Magnus heard the soft knock at his door. Alec quietly snuck inside, calling to Magnus softly, as if he’d been afraid to disturb the peace. The apartment looked different from before, couches were rearranged and lamps were changed after the party. Magnus sauntered in the main room, a smirk on his lips as he greeted Alec with a quick kiss.

“Ah yes, I felt the urge to redecorate after last night’s extravagance. Do you like it?” He asked, arms spread wide as if revealing some expensive piece of artwork. Alec simply nodded. Sensing his boyfriend’s mood, Magnus gestured to the smaller of the couches.

“Sit, please. Let me grab a drink.” Magnus disappeared into his kitchen, returning seconds later with two wine glasses full of clear liquid. When Alec raised a brow, Magnus snickered and handed a glass to him.

“Relax, it’s only water, my dear.” Magnus pat his knee when Alec flushed a deep pink. “I know you didn’t come here to drink. What’s on your mind?” Alec took a long gulp of his water.

“I just. It’s just been a really long weekend. I wish we could just freeze time. For just a few days, I don’t want to worry about Valentine or the war or my parents. We never have time to just… be still and talk, you know?” Alec’s elbows were leaning on his knees and he wasn’t fully seated on the couch, as if he felt he’d need to leave soon. Magnus carefully placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into the couch, a silent reminder to relax, that he was there to stay and to listen.

“I know what you mean,” Magnus began with a bitter smile. “I wish I could do that for you, Alexander. But even my magic has its limits. Time must go on. But, it’s not too incredibly late, yes? We still have a few good hours left in the night, then we’ll get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll make breakfast in the morning, okay?” Magnus looked so encouraging that Alec didn’t have to think twice about spending the night. It would be nice to just be together, even for only a few hours.

“Yeah, okay.” And there was that soft smile Magnus had come to love seeing on Alec’s face. He watched as it slowly faded into confusion when Magnus set both his and Alec’s glass down on the coffee table and turned to face the shadowhunter.

“Alec, I want to talk to you about last night, if that’s alright.” And aside from a resigned sort of look on his face, Alec didn’t protest. “Iris was messing with our heads, playing with our greatest insecurities and fears. Poor Clary was in tears when she thought the vampire boy had abandoned her. Jace knocked out your mother while hallucinating that she had tried to kill him.”

Alec nodded along. He only knew bits and pieces from short conversations with Jace, but it was good to hear the whole story. Although, he felt a sinking feeling deep in his gut when he realized where the conversation was going.

“That spell she cast. It affected our minds so that what we saw and heard wasn’t reality. But it didn’t affect our thoughts, emotions, or actions.” Magnus looked at Alec pointedly. “I understand that you feel guilty about Jocelyn’s death. I’ve been alive for centuries, there are many people who’ve deaths I have - and still do - feel guilty about. You are a good man, Alexander. Be kind to yourself… please.”

“Clary called me just before you arrived this evening. She told me that whatever the spell had made you think she said, that you went straight to the roof after only a few moments.” Magnus was grasping at Alec’s hands now, begging him to listen. But yet, he still tried to look away from Magnus’ steady gaze. “Alec, Alec please, look at me.” He released one of Alec’s hands then, only to gently cup his cheek and turn his face towards himself once again.

“I’ve been there, Alexander. I know the turmoil in your head. I have been on that ledge before, ready to end it all. But someone stopped me, cared enough to talk me down so that I could be here today, with you. But Alec, you… you stepped off the ledge. If I had been only seconds later, I couldn’t have-” Magnus broke off with a choking sort of sound, and he was clutching Alec’s hand so tight it hurt. But Alec couldn’t care less about his hand at that moment, because the beautiful warlock before him was trying very hard to hold back tears.

“I know… I know that you don’t understand this yet, Alexander. But you are… incredibly dear to me. I don’t think that I would survive that, Alec. If you’d died,” Magnus was breathing heavily now, tears flowing freely down his face. “I can’t lose you. You have to know that.”

Alec responded in the only way he knew how. Through touch. He carefully pried his hands out of the warlock’s grasp, only for Alec to run his hands up Magnus’ arms, shifting closer so he was in his personal space. His hands came up behind and around Magnus’ neck, and when he closed his eyes, Alec pressed their foreheads together.

Arms wound around Magnus’ back, clutching tightly to the fabric of his shirt as Alec all but climbed onto him before letting out a pained sound and hugged him. The warmth of his embrace relaxed him, even as Alec started to tremble, ever so slightly.

“I didn’t know,” He whispered, “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to think of me like this… weak.” Hiding his face in Magnus’ shoulder, Alec let the first tear fall. “I’m sorry. By the Angel, I am so sorry Magnus. I didn’t think, I wasn’t thinking when I was up there. But you… you saved me, Magnus, thank you.” Alec shuddered as Magnus clung to him. “I’m sorry you had to see that… but I’m glad you were there, to stop it.”

“Oh, Alexander.” Magnus pulled away a little then, so he could hold Alec’s face in place with both hands. “I will always be there for you, got it? Always.” Alec made a soft sound, once again burying his face in the crook of Magnus’ neck. The warlock let out a little breathy laugh when he felt gentle kisses being pressed into the skin of his neck.

“Hey. Hey, stop for a second okay?” Alec leaned away from him then, eyes still closed and biting his lower lip. God, Magnus wanted to kiss him. But there were more important matters at the moment. “Alec, are you okay? Please… be honest with me.” Alec opened his eyes and pressed his lips together in thought.

“Not… not yet. But I will be. With you here, I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” And that was one of the best responses Magnus could’ve asked for. Suddenly, the distance between them was far too much, and Magnus curled his fingers in Alec’s hair, drawing him closer to ease the ache in his chest that seemed to appear when Alec was close but not close enough.

The air between them was thick and heavy, and Magnus didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace so he whispered when he asked if he could kiss Alec. He made this soft, disbelieving sound before nodding quickly. And Magnus had to force himself to stop smiling so he could finally press their lips together. It was so worth it though, when Alec sighed and parted his lips a little.

He doesn’t know how long they stayed there on the couch like that, but at some point his toes started to get cold so he summoned a few blankets. And really, who was he to complain when Alec laughed and pulled a blanket around them, wrapping them up in their own little world. Magnus pressed soft kisses to his forehead, his eyelids, even nuzzled their noses together - which earned him another laugh from Alec.

“It tickles!” He breathed out, catching on to the curious tilt of Magnus’ head. “Your eyelashes… they’re so long.” Alec sighed, whispering against the warlock’s lips, “I wish we could stay here, like this, forever.”

Magnus hummed in agreement before resuming his quest of mapping out Alec’s face with his lips. When he reached his mouth, Alec tried - and failed - to suppress a yawn. Magnus smiled fondly, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Let’s go to bed, hm?” He stood up and held a hand out to Alec, who followed suit, though he was still wrapped in one of the blankets. “Oh, you’re adorable.” Alec scowled, which only spurred Magnus on. After a few seconds of kisses and shared laughter, the two finally made it to the bedroom.

They undressed each other slowly, pausing for soft kisses every so often. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t heated. There was a time for sex, and a time for intimacy. They understood that tonight, they just needed the comfort of someone by their side. Magnus crawled under the sheets first, patting the open space next to him in invitation. Who was Alec to refuse such an offer?

There they lay, facing each other in Manus’ large bed, two figures curled together, whispering to each other sweet nothings. And the world was at peace, for just a little while. Be it calm before the storm, or something else entirely, they had turned the night into gentle quietness. Alec fell asleep with Magnus holding one hand, and the other tracing patterns onto his scarred and runed skin. Others may have turned away in distaste at the clear signs of battle, but to Magnus, he only saw beauty in Alec’s healed wounds. It was proof that Alec survived, that he lived, and he was here with Magnus.

Yes, he thought, we will be okay. Magnus drifted off into sleep, curled into Alec’s side. There was no place he’d rather be. And so the warlock and shadowhunter slept peacefully for the first time in months.

#okay here it is #sidney writes #my fic #malec #malec fic #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #ithilien writes #idk you expressed interest so maybe you'll like???

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