#like anything it’s probably closer to a 10 things adaption which is what everyone’s been acting like anyways

[ropebunnykant]

and if i say bad buddy is far closer to being an adaption of romeo and juliet than the heart killers will ever be of taming

[aita-blorbos]

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[anxiousstark]

The Aura Painter | DOB

Painter! Dylan x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 12K (12.057)

Warnings: Mentions of sexism, masturbation (mutual or solo), unprotected sex (this is a fic, be safe), cum play, breeding kink, filthy tbh, some cliché romance scenes. This is my second time writing ‘smut’. But this is the first time writing something so long and so filthy, bear with me.

A/N: This is an idea that I’ve had in mind for so long. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed imagining it. And of course, writing it. If you do, please give it some love and share it. The biggest solo piece I’ve ever written!

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

BIG MASTERLIST  |  KO-FI

Words you must know for the fic:

Onism (n.) the awarness of how little of the world you will experience.

Heriaeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you canot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning. the grief of lost places of your past.

Elysian (adj.) beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect.

.

The droplets of rain fell against the glass, leaving a trail which I followed with my gaze. The glistening tear of water disappeared before I could place my finger against the window and imitate that I could command its movement.

The sky seemed to cry, turning a darker shade. Perhaps the sky had lost a lover or perhaps, the one they loved was far from its reach. I could not tell as I never experienced one of those stories.

The books I had to read as a child were those who would teach me how to act and think. But those I read on the confines of my room when everyone was sleeping were different. Those told the story of a beautiful lady who wished to be rescued by a gentleman. I would try not to squeal under my blanket, as that was something, a lady of a high position should not do.

I glanced at the sky again as it screamed, lightly swaying the trees outside while his droplets of tears wetted everything under itself.

"M'lady," I corrected my form, trying to look as straight as possible. Turning around, I glimpsed directly into a pair of green eyes that seemed to lose their brightness as the seasons passed. Those eyes used to be the brightest ones in this palace, but now they were almost colourless, decorated by a couple of wrinkles. "Your mother is asking for your presence at her table."

That was unusual. My mother was a sophisticated distant woman who liked to spend time on her own. Hence, she tried to escape from her responsibilities as a Queen while having breakfast by herself. She would relax outside in the gardens. A small white table filled with her preferred meals, and even if she sought to convince herself, and lie to me about her drink being just a mere juice, everyone knew it wasn't.

"Tell me, Harold," While walking through the corridors of the palace, I noticed once again the monotony. The clicking of my heels appeared to be the only sound, except the melody of the rain falling against hard surfaces. "Did the Queen seem mad?"

Harold tried not to chuckle, knowing that if my parents or any of my siblings were near, he would end up getting struck by executing such a natural gesture. "I must say that the Queen did not ask for the cello man to accompany her this morning with some music."

I gasped, glancing at him to discern if he was teasing me. Harold had been in our family for so many years. I dare to say that he was in this palace before anyone else.

"She must be quite mad, then." I bit my lower lip, trying to think what of the things I have done could have gotten her mad, and how she had discovered them. "Perhaps she found the romance novels hidden in my room?" I muttered to myself.

"M'lady," Harold opened the door to the great hall. "She preferred to eat her breakfast in here as it is raining cats and dogs outside." He whispered, letting me walk in first. I silently nodded my head, wandering closer to my mother, who was sitting on the farthest place even though she was on her own. "My Queen. The young Lady has arrived. If my services are required, I will be waiting outside to escort the young Lady back to her room."

I shivered as soon as Harold left the room, wishing he could have stayed with me. But of course, he did not deserve the wrath of my mother. While walking closer to her, my clicking heels seemed to resemble the countdown of a bomb that would explode shortly.

"Take a seat, my darling," She demanded as soon as I was close to her. I swallowed, swiftly grabbing the skirts of my dress. I sat down on the white chair in front of her. She coughed. "Someone quite similar to the young Lady of the palace has been seen on the street market." A newspaper was placed on top of the table, facing me.

I swallowed one more time. "Must be someone who resembles me." I attempted to sound confident. "I am afraid that happened on Friday, and I take piano, courtesy and manner classes that day."

"Tell me, darling," She faked a smile. Her dark brown eyes, studying my position and expressions. "May I ask how you knew this happened on Friday as the article does not say something like that?"

"I-." Her stare became even more intimidating. "Guessed?" I squinted my eyes, perceiving that she would raise her voice to inhuman levels.

"Nor did you only skip your classes, you also lied and went outside on your own." Her tone was sharp. "Hideous things could have happened to you. Do you know what this could mean to your brother's throne?" Of course, this was about my dear brother. "The sister of the future King of Onism does not follow the rules of the palace. Then, what should they expect from their new King?"

"I did not do anything inappropriate, mother." I sighed, shifting my gaze to look at her directly. "I did not get in trouble, and as you can perceive, I am all right."

She rolled her eyes, which surprised me as she always claimed for that gesture not being refined. "And books," She pointed to one of the chairs, where I noticed all my favourite romance novels resting upon it. She had found them.

"May at least have some privacy in the confines of my bedroom?" I was mad, but raising my voice to her would get me in even more trouble. "Those," I referred to the pile of books that were my most precious property. "Those are mine."

"Not anymore," She got up, grabbing one of them and examining the title. "Romance novels? When will you understand that nothing like this happens in real life?"

I felt a little strength going through my body. "That book, in particular, describes the love story of the author! It is a romance that happened to her in real life. It is not fiction."

"But that woman was not a princess, was she?" I shook my head as she waited for my answer. "However, you are one. Even if you do not have anything to do with the future throne of Onism, your brother does, and you must behave like a princess." She walked closer to the fireplace. My eyes widened, and I gasped loudly. "You are a woman and a princess. The only thing you must worry about is making your future husband happy while following his rules, even if you do not love him." She opened the book, her skinny finger ripping some of the pages, and in the process, shattering my heart. "You will get married to someone you do not love, just to unite two countries." She let the book slip from her fingers. Falling to the fire, and burning as much as my eyes were burning due to the tears. "Stop filling your head with stories that will never happen to you. You are dismissed."

I got up from the chair, slightly glancing at the pile of books. I knew they would end up in the fireplace, slowly burning. I bowed my head. "I apologize, mother." She made a gesture with her hand, instructing me to leave the great hall.

My head was down as I walked to the door, wishing to exit the room and rant to Harold. "Wait," The voice of my mother interrupted my walk. "Get prepared as in two hours a man will come to paint a portrait of you. We will send the portraits to different future Kings of other countries that have shown interest in courting you."

"Yes, mother." I could not argue.

As I came out of the room, I noticed Harold's gaze fixed on me. I shook my head, letting him accompany me to my chambers. While walking through the long corridors, I glanced outside the windows. I reminded myself that I would never dance under the rain with someone while we laugh and kiss. I will never be caressed with love. I will only be touched with the purpose of bringing an heir to someone. An heir that would have to live the same dull life as me.

Going inside my bedroom, Harold bowed his head while he walked away. However, three ladies that worked in the palace entered my room, ready to assist me. I could not even take a bath on my own, nor could I dress by myself as the three of them did it for me.

"The painter will be here soon, ma'am," Rosetta informed, deciding to stay in the room as a lady should not be alone in a room with a man who is not her beloved husband. "He is a painter from town, said to have a gift."

"Is he quite known?" I asked to continue the conversation as I did not want to be rude. Nonetheless, the image of my books burning was the only thing in my mind.

"He is known in town for doing amazing portraits in exchange for food and a place to live." My curiosity peaked at the comment. "Royals are quite interested in getting their portraits done by him. Though, he had denied their offers." I looked at her with confusion. "He does not want to be related to any royalty member." I nodded my head, understanding why he did not want that.

There were two knocks on the door, indicating that the painter was here. I was quite surprised as my mother wanted the portrait to be painted in my private chambers. "Please, come inside."

When the door opened, a tall man came inside. He was probably around 5' 10". Wide shoulders that were covered by dark brown clothes. It seemed to be his best attire. Even though you could see the cheap fabric, and how he had tried to cover some holes and get rid of some stains. He had tried to gel his hair back. At first, I thought his hair was black until a streak of light fell on him, and I discerned it was a little lighter than that.

His light brown eyes fell on me, and studying them in-depth, I noticed that they resembled to be hazel. He bowed his head. "Uhm, it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. I am here to-."

I offered him a smile. "Welcome to the palace," I bowed my head a little, which seemed to surprise him. "Please, do not call me Princess. It is fine to call me Lady." I gestured to one of the chairs in my room. "Please take a seat. It must have been a bumpy ride to the palace."

While sitting down, he nodded his head. There was a big black binder between his hands. Noticing my gaze on it, he quickly opened it, showing different canvas. "I can make different types of portraits. I thought I should bring some examples for the Pri-, Lady to choose the one she fancies the most." He stretched his arm, providing his drawings for me to look at them.

"May I ask for your name, sir?" My eyes focused on his drawings, understanding why everyone wanted to get their portrait done by the young man.

"My family name is O'Brien, while my name is Dylan, my Lady."

I nodded my head while still focused on his magnificent paintings. However, one in particular seemed to grab my full attention. It was the portrait of an elder, who appeared to be looking deep into me. He was skinny, and by his clothes, I could tell he was poor. He was sitting on a chair, and I almost gasped when I discerned that he had a missing leg. His expression was warm, a gorgeous smile decorating his face. Though, you could see that he had missing teeth.

"Did you find any equivalent style to what you desire?" His soft voice snapped me from my thoughts.

"May I ask?" I turned the portrait around, giving it back. His eyes examined the elder he had drawn. "Why is he smiling, but there are shadows around him?" I had noticed that the elder was smiling. However, black and grey adumbrations were around his figure. Some resembled horrible monsters. Especially a grey shadow that resembled a demon, resting upon his head.

He chuckled. "Those are the ones people in town ask the most." He glanced at me. "I draw their exterior as they want other people to see them. But then, around them, I draw what I can perceive or what I learnt about them." I furrowed my eyebrows. "Sadly, this man passed away a couple of weeks ago due to a cold." He licked his bottom lip. "He had offered me a home for a couple of days, and of course, he had proposed food in exchange for a portrait. Those days, I learnt many things while listening to his stories. I noticed that the man was attempting to look happy for his sick wife, whom he loved with his entire soul."

I fidgeted on my seat. "What happened, then?" I curiously asked, making him grin.

"He was not happy. He was afraid of losing the love of his life because death had knocked a couple of times on their door." He glanced at the painting. "Their children had married to people in higher positions, ignoring the elderly couple and not helping them with medicines. He was 87 years old, working in the town market. He was selling vegetables that he was cultivating by himself." He decided to continue as he saw that I was expectant of knowing more. "He never lost the smile for anyone, even if people did not treat him right. And of course, when arriving at his house, he would maintain the smile for his wife."

"Then," I tried to hide my teary eyes. "Those dark shadows..."

"Those are the monsters he tried to hide, but that I got to meet. The fear of losing his wife, the frightening feeling of wanting to end his own life, the fear of not having money to pay for his wife medicines, and so much more."

"And what happened to them?" Rosetta coughed, indicating me to fix my posture, and I quickly did, which made him furrow his eyebrows.

"As I said, one of his biggest fears was that they did not have enough money to pay for his wife's medicines." He peeped at the ground for mere seconds. "She died in her sleep. Her body could not hold the pain anymore, and she faded away."

"What about the old man?"

He nodded his head, his gaze shifting to the portrait. "He passed away in his sleep too. There was a smile in his face."

I blinked, affected by the grievous story of those who had to fight to survive. "I want one of those!" Both Rosetta and Dylan looked at me with surprised expressions decorating their faces. "I would like one of those portraits."

"My Lady, I'm sorry to intervene on matters that I should not. But I do not think the Queen will like such a portrait to be sent to those who are interested in courting you." She was right.

"She will not look at the portrait. Harold will be the one sending them." I affirmed, knowing that my mother would not dirty her hands for anything.

"It could get the young man in trouble, my Lady."

I glance at the man, who was looking at Rosetta until his eyes met mine. "Yes," I smiled, even though I was upset. "You are right. Then," I studied a portrait, a simple one. "I would like this one." Dylan nodded his head.

"It would take a couple of days to finish it. But I will be staying in the palace for the time being." He informed. "Is there any time of the day where you prefer to spend your time just standing in front of me?" He blushed a little. "Just for the portrait, of course."

"Tuesdays and Fridays I must spend receiving 'Lady classes'. The rest of the days and hours, I will be in here." I sighed, offering him another smile. "Did they give you directions for the room where you will stay?" Nodding his head, he showed me a piece of paper with some important directions to places of the palace that he could visit. "Your bedroom is at the end of this corridor. You are lucky as it is empty, except for me and Harold's room." Of course, he had met Harold already. "I must warn you not to leave your room after 11 pm as there are guards everywhere." I got up from my chair. "Rosetta," I pointed at her. "She will bring every meal to your room. Do not hesitate if you need to ask them something. There are a bathroom and a study in your chambers."

Before he could answer, the door of my chambers opened. A broad man stumbled in with decisive steps, and fury adorning his face. I gulped, stepping back before I could hold myself.

The man threw a newspaper at me, hitting my chest. Glancing at the floor, I witnessed the same newspaper my mother had been holding a couple of minutes ago. "Again?" His voice was sharp. "Did you escape again to buy those stupid books?" I shook my head. "Oh, yes, you did. Mother told me." His boots sounded like thunders as he walked closer. "I do not desire to hear any rumour of how my sister is not acting like a lady." My brother Evans glared at me. "If my future in the throne is affected by your stupid imagination and ambitions, I swear I will do whatever I must do for you to learn your lesson."

"I am s-."

"Do not you dare speak back to me!" He screamed. His gaze shifted to Dylan, who was standing too, eyes widened and what seemed anger decorating his face. "Are you the painter?" He nodded his head. "Try to make her attractive in the portrait. Hopefully, some rich soon-to-be King from another country will want to marry her." He peered at me. "Luckily, he will know when a woman needs a genuine beating to act like a lady or a wife." Those were his final words as he left the room. I finally could breathe.

"Uhm," My legs shook, and I attempted to hide it. "As I said before if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, my Lady." He got up from his chair, clutching his paintings. "Is it all right to start with the portrait tomorrow morning?" I nodded my head, wishing him goodnight as he left my bedroom.

"Rosetta," Her hands were behind her back, respectfully. "Tell Harold that I demanded not to be disturbed tonight. Not even for dinner." She nodded her head, bowing and leaving me on my own.

I sighed, wandering closer to a full-body mirror that decorated one of my walls. The moment I feared the most was getting closer. I would marry someone whom I do not love. I would marry someone whose eyes would not hold back from gawking at other women. And with those thoughts in mind, I went to sleep.

The following day, I decided to have breakfast and lunch in my chambers, not wanting to face my mother or my older brother. I had convinced Harold to stay outside my room, wanting to be on my own with Dylan. I thought that I would feel more comfortable if I didn't have someone constantly checking my posture or warning me of what should not say. Moreover, I also believed that a painter needed his privacy to reflect his art on a canvas.

I was stunned toward the bright day outside. Looking out of the window, I saw my little siblings running around the garden as some servants followed them. They were probably making their job even more complicated. Alexander and Victoria were quite the troublemakers. However, I was thrilled for them as they would not have to follow such strict indications, as to the ones I had to obey.

"Are those your siblings, my Lady?" Scared by the prompt presence, I turned around. Dylan was standing there, holding a big canvas and a briefcase, which I assumed held his painting materials. "I apologize if I alarmed you. Harold permitted me to come inside."

I nodded my head. "Yes, they are twins." I offered him a smile as he grabbed a chair, placing it in front of me. I discerned that my back was resting against the wall, and I quickly moved to stand straight. "Oh, please, no." He extended his arm. "Would it be okay for you to go back to that position? The light was caressing the right side of your face. There was a beautiful contrast." I swallowed, nodding my head while resting my back against the wall. I heard him chuckle. "Please, do not worry. It is okay for you to blink, breathe or swallow. It is also okay for you to do light movements."

"May I talk?"

"I am not great at holding conversations, but I will try my best, my Lady." He placed the blank canvas on the easel. His hands worked fast while taking out his painting material from the briefcase. "If it is not rude," He swallowed, probably questioning himself if it was okay to continue speaking. "I have noticed some books lying under the bed," I glance at my bed. Noticing that some books could be seen, which meant he was good at observing and that I did not hide my books correctly. "What books do you read?"

"Well," I gulped. "I read books about manners a lady should have in front of males and for the table. I study geography too as I must know the rest of countries for future alliances, and-."

"I apologize, my Lady." He wetted his brush. "Perhaps I formed the question wrongly. I wanted to know which books you enjoy."

My mouth opened as no one has ever asked me such a question. "You will think I am a typical young girl."

"Cannot think like that, my Lady." He mixed some colours. His painting brush, caressing the canvas delicately. "You are not a typical young girl. You are the Princess of Onism." Though those words shattered my heart, he was right. I would never be a 'normal' girl as my life was nothing like the one of an ordinary lady. "However," He continued. "When you paint someone, you get to comprehend them deeply. I believe I might discover that you are an ordinary human at heart. Something beautiful that would separate you from cold-hearted royalty." I was surprised by his words as people would not dare to talk of royalty like that.

I offered him a smile. "You might." He got distracted for a couple of seconds. His eyes navigated from the canvas to me, trying to retain my features and the folds of my clothes. "Romance." I was flustered. "I do truly enjoy romance."

"I presume something you will experience as soon as these portraits are sent."

I shook my head. "Something I presume I will never experience." His eyebrows furrowed once again. "Royalty men have the right to choose whom they will marry, even if they do not love them. Women will have to accept whomever their parents choose for her." My gaze shifted to the window for a couple of seconds. "It is my destiny."

He stopped painting for mere seconds, staring at me while slowly blinking. "Destiny can be changed." I shook my head. "It can," He nodded his head. "It might be scary or go against the rules. But destiny can be changed by the decisions you make. Only you are the sailor of the ship." He grinned. "That is something my father used to say."

"Used?"

"He passed away." He gritted his teeth. "He was a great painter too. Better than me." To my curious gaze, he decided to continue. "My mother left when I was a baby. She fell in love with a younger man, leaving my dad and me." He gulped. "Therefore, I would not dare to say that I have seen love as my mother left without looking back."

"H-Have you experience love, sir?"

"Please, call me Dylan, my Lady." There was a comfortable silence between us as he seemed to be concentrating on the portrait. "Not sure I did. Love is not what is shown in books. Nonetheless, I would like it to be like that."

"I cannot agree or disagree." I offered a sad smile, trying to hide my tears. "May we take a rest?"

He glanced at the clock hanging on my wall, nodding his head. "I apologize, time went by so fast." He cleaned and placed his paints inside his briefcase. "Good night, my Lady." I bowed back to him as he closed the door.

I waited for a couple of minutes, opening the door and seeing Rosetta waiting there. "Where is Harold?" I glance around, hoping to see the grey-haired man.

"He had to take care of some issues." She replied, looking nervous. "Do you need anything, my Lady?"

I quickly nodded my head. "I expect no dinner today, and I demand to be left alone." She furrowed her eyebrows, and before she could speak back, I stopped her. "I would like to take my nightly bath on my own, please." She nodded her head, walking away after wishing me a good night.

I closed the door of my chambers, quickly locking it as I rapidly walked into my bathroom, doing the same thing to the door. Walking closer to the bath, I turned on the faucet. I checked the temperature of the water until it was lukewarm.

I sighed as my hands went to my back, untying my dress. As the clothes fell to the ground in a surprisingly elegant manner, I appreciated not being forced to wear a corset. My legs shook as I placed one inside the water until I was sitting down.

I have read in books how a woman and a man would fall in love. A passion that they could not resist. An absolute passion that would make their hands wander through their bodies, wanting to feel each other as close as possible. I have read it so many times that I could lie to my head, making it think that I have experienced something like that.

I have read the way hands seem to burn on the skin, and how breathing becomes more arduous. And how after being pleasured, you need it over, and over again.

I sighed, feeling my nipples hardening, and I learnt they could do so even if the temperature was not cold. My left hand gripped the edge of the bathtub as the right hand rested on my chest. I decided it was time to move it, and closing my eyes, I left it to wander down while grazing my nipples.

When my fingers caressed my tummy, they seemed to become shy. Not used to the places they were descending. I have read books, but I have never experienced the feeling, which made me feel curious.

I tried to remember all the books. My fingers ended up placed on top of my bundle of nerves, and just the mere touch made me shiver from excitement. I slowly moved them in circles, adding more pressure, little by little. The temperature down there seemed to get warmer to the point where it burned. I could not avoid the need to move my fingers faster.

My left hand continued to grip the edge of the bathtub, but this time harder as my mouth opened and my vision became blurry. I felt this strange sensation. I felt like I was going to urinate inside the warm water, and even though I felt quite disgusted by the thought, I could not stop my fingers. They moved in circles, faster and adding much more pressure.

And it came. A rush of pleasure came over my body, and I could not hold back the moans escaping my mouth as I peeped down between my legs. My intimate parts turned red due to temperature and agitation. Then, I regarded the water near it, looking less transparent. So that was it. That is what a woman felt after pleasuring herself.

Curiosity invaded me even more, and I wanted to experience more further.

A couple of days had gone by, and the portrait was already looking amazingly good. I did not have any doubt of Dylan's talent as I have seen some of his works.

"Has anyone shown you around?" We had got a little closer as we spent many hours together for the portrait. He shook his head, taking off his dark green beret, and resting it on a nearer seat as he proceeded to mix some colours. "Would you like to see the gardens and the horses?"

His eyes widened. "Horses, my Lady?" I chuckled at his expression, nodding my head.

"Eight to be exact." His eyes widened even more. I remembered everything he had told me about himself, especially his love for horses. "We could take a rest. I feel dizzy from the smell of paint." He promptly nodded his head, halting and resting his brush on top of an antique plate stuffed with remains of paint.

Strolling through the gardens, I peered at him. He seemed content, having the chance to smell the fresh air mingled with the scent of the white roses that decorated our gardens. "White roses are your favourites." He had surprised me while retrieving such a simple, but a unique fact about me.

I nodded my head. "I prefer them over red roses. Those are overrated." He laughed, making my heart beat loudly. Dylan was an attractive man, and these past days I could not stop my body and my heart from reacting as soon as my gaze met his. "The stables are over there." I pointed to a couple of meters away from us. I extracted my arm as I felt something falling on it. "Oh, it seems like it   will start drizzling." We walked faster to the stables, almost running as the rain appeared to fall swiftly upon our clothes. "You will adore Arden. He is my hor-." I was interrupted as I saw two bodies stirring frantically against each other. Their moans, invading the stables. "Wh-." A hand covered my mouth while another dragged me off the stables. Dylan and I ran under the rain, getting as far as possible from the horses' house.

Both of us gawked at each other in astonishment. "Maybe my eyes deceived me. However, I believe that was Harold?" He seemed as shocked as me.

"They did not trick you." I gulped. "May I add that woman was my mother?"

His eyes widened even more. "T-The Queen?" I nodded my head. "I am so sorry, my Lady."

"I am not angered by the fact she was committing adultery! I know my father is no saint." I gritted my teeth. "I am mad by the fact she lives a miserable life. In which she had to marry a man she does not love, and she wants to impose the same duty on me!" My hands reached my hair, fingers clutching it. "It is not fair for her to desire the same dull and cruel life for me!" Dylan kept quiet, allowing me to rant. "Why must not I experience falling in love with someone? I crave to be touched by adoring hands, not dirty ones that will not care about my desires and will expect for an heir to be conceived." I sighed. "I ache to live that romance until the day I die." I let my posture fall, whining. "Why cannot I be kissed by someone truly interested in me? Why cannot I be touched by someone who desi-."

My speech was interrupted as Dylan's hands rested on my cheeks. His lips were tightly pressed against mine. I have read how a kiss was mostly controlled by the fight of tongues, aspiring to be the dominant one. But this was just a simplistic kiss.

"Oh my-." His eyes widened as my mouth fell open. "I apologize for my behaviour. I do not know what came over my mind for me to-." My hands were now covering his cheeks as I bought him closer. My lips were awkwardly pressed against his. He separated from me, blinking dumbfoundedly. "Close your eyes." I did. "Open your mouth a little, my Lady." His thumb drew my lower lip downwards. As he got closer, I felt his tongue stroking my bottom lip.

My hands were pushed against his chest as I gripped his white shirt between my fingers. One of his hands had to wander to my lower back as my legs shook. His tongue was now grinding against mine, and not knowing what to do, I mimicked his actions. My mouth instinctively melted against his.

"You will be the death of me, my Lady." He held me closer. His right hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Literally."

The following day, I walked to the great hall, confident enough not to knock on the door before stepping inside. My mother seemed shocked to be interrupted by my presence, as she gripped the teacup tighter.

Harold wandered behind me, fear written all over his features as he had never seen me disrespecting my mother in such a way.

I gestured for the cello man to leave the room, which he quickly did, not even daring to glance at my mother. "How dare you to come inside in such a-."

"I will not get married." I interrupted her, something I have never done before. I had been informed by my brother that there was a powerful candidate for me to marry. A 52-year-old man. "I will not marry someone I do not love, and even less a 52-year-old King just for our countries to be at peace."

"You have no say on it."

"Mother, do you want me to live the same life as you?" I ventured to ask. "Do you want me to marry a man who will sleep with every servant or woman that crosses his way while my future children will have to suffer the consequences too? A boy that ought to follow the rules of a King until he becomes a tyrant. And a girl who ought to have to act as demanded. Merely for the young male of the family to be even more respected?"

"As I sai-."

"Will I be like you then, mother?" My lower lip trembled. "Will I be cold-hearted towards my children, towards my daughter? Will I have to submit her to the same shameful life as me?" I did not let Harold intervene. "Will I have to close my eyes to true love and consume my infatuation with the person I truly love in some dirty stable?" Both of them were shocked by my words. "You are preparing and forcing me to the life you both have. I do not want to hide from the public eye and keep the person I cherish a secret."

"If this is about that paint-."

"He has nothing to do with this." I did not appreciate the way she spoke about Dylan. "I have openly expressed my discomfort about marrying someone I do not love since I recollect. I understand romance books do not happen in real life. But love does, and marrying someone for my brother's throne is not love." I sighed. "It is not fair for us, women, to be treated like this while men are approached like that!"

She surprisingly glanced at me for a couple of seconds before her sober expression appeared once again. "Every King marries the women they choose. We cannot decide. Every King has bastard children." I had to remind myself that Alexander and Victoria were the children of one of our servants. "Even your brother is going to have a bastard child." I furrowed my eyebrows as it was the first time hearing that news. "Rosetta." A disgusted expression decorated my face.

"Well," I breathed deeply.  "Destiny can be changed." I recited the same words Dylan had told me once. "It might be scary or go against the rules. But destiny can be changed by the decisions you make. Only you are the sailor of the ship." I glimpse at Harold. "I am tired of not being the sailor of my ship." I softened my voice. "Think about it, mother. I will do everything in my power to get out of here, even if it means dying in the process." For the first time in my life, my teary eyes were met with the glistening tears that invaded my mother's eyes. "I will be in my chambers. Please do not bother me at all."

When arriving to my bedroom, I did not expect to see Dylan waiting inside. I locked the door behind me as my eyes examined his entire body.

"Are you all right, my Lady?" He showed the briefcase he was squeezing between his fingers. "Rosetta told me to wait here for you. Since we could not continue with the portrait this morning, I assumed that perhaps, we could tonight."

"Let's escape together." My mouth seemed to move on its own. However, Dylan stared at me with complete confusion decorating his features.

"My Lady, I do not think I understand what you are trying to imply." He knew.

"I have told you before I do not plan on marrying someone whom I do not love." I walked to my bed, sitting down on the mattress. "It has been decided without letting me know that I will get married to the King of Hiraeth."

He glanced down at the floor for a couple of seconds to later shift his gaze on my direction. "Perhaps he is not only a noble because of his blood. Perhaps he is also noble at heart."

"It does not matter if he is noble at heart or not," I answered decisively. "He is a 52 year-old-man! And as I said before, someone I do not love!"

He sighed. "My Lady," Resting his briefcase on the floor, he pulled a chair to sit in front of me. Though, he maintained the distance. "If I am not wrong, you have never met this man before. You might end up fallin-."

"Do not dare to say that!" I got up from the bed, eyes flickering. "Please, do not be like the rest of those who live in this palace! The first time you came here, you told me I could change my fate." He swallowed, nodding his head. "That is what I am trying to do." My hands were squeezing the skirts of my dress. "Please."

"I cannot take you anywhere, my Lady. You are the Princess of Onism. Everyone in town knows the beauty you behold." He coughed while deeply looking into my eyes. "I do not know anyone that will keep the secret of you being in to-."

"You are not understanding me, Dylan." I tried to ignore the way his body shivered every time my tongue and lips worked together to create his name. "I know I told you that I have never experienced love." I bit my lower lip, taking a breath. "I only know what I have read in books." He nodded his head, waiting for me to continue. "But I understand my feelings. Even before the day we kissed under the rain, I was already attracted to you."

"Attraction is something that can be felt many-."

I stepped closer, making him glance up. "It was attraction, I admit." Both of my hands navigated towards my back. "But my heart beats madly, whenever you are near me, whenever I glance at you or when I think about you." He got up from his chair, slightly stepping back. "I am utterly sure that I am in love with a man who worries about me and my feelings. Someone who has been encouraging me and that has seen my fears."

"My Lady," He gulped. "I truly feel honoured to be inside your mind and heart. I will not lie as I do also feel the same towards you." When I moved closer, he prevented me. "But you are a Princess, and I am just a simple man who paints in exchange for food and a roof." He blinked fastly. "I cannot give you the life you might expect." He offered me a side-smile. "And of course, our relationship would not be approved by the King and Queen." His voice turned softer. "Neither by the soon-to-be King of Onism."

"I do not care!"

"But I do, my Lady." He breathed deeply. "I do not want you to live a life where people will insult and degrade you plainly because you married a penniless man, or because you did not obey the established rules of the members of the royalty."

"I already have that life, where I am discredited just because I am a woman." This time when I stepped closer, he did not back away. "I already have to follow settled rules for the sake of my brother." My hands were still behind my back, and I finally decided to let them untie. He did not notice yet. "But now I have found someone who makes me feel something I have never experienced before." I sighed. "What did you do to me, Dylan?" He opened his mouth. "My mind and heart are full of you, and they constantly demand my body to be filled by you too."

His neck and cheeks turned red as he seemed to have difficulties while swallowing his spit. His eyes shifted around the room, trying to decide what to do. "My Lady," He sighed in desperation. His hands travelling through his body while he clenched it and gritted his teeth. "I truly have been trying to hold back." His hands now grazed his face. "I have been trying to hide how in love I am with you as I am just someone who does not deserve you."

"You are the man who deserves me the most." The shoulders of my dress fell, displaying my bare skin. His eyes widened even more. "And you do not have to hold back anymore." Finally, the cloth fell onto the ground. "I have read so many things, but I have never thought of experiencing them." I felt embarrassed by revealing such a matter. "I could not hold my hands from exploring my body for the first time as your image was in my mind."

"You did?" I nodded my head. His eyes had never left mine, not even to peer at my underwear. A rush of confidence seemed to hasten through him as he walked to the door, securing it. "Show me." My expression must have confused him. "Show me how you did it."

It was my turn to gulp as I got on my mattress, lying down on my back. I was slightly sitting thanks to the pillow, which granted me to discern Dylan as he shuffled closer to the end of the bed.

My bralette was already off, but his eyes still fixed on mine. "You can look." As soon as those words came out of my mouth, his eyes glanced down at my chest. It seemed like he had complications breathing.

My hands gently travelled down, gripping the sides of my underwear and slowly bringing them down my legs. The chilly air was a contrast of temperature to my entire body. I shifted my legs to completely discard my panties, which ended up someplace on the ground.

I permitted my fingers to touch the bundle of nerves, suffering a chill through my body that reminded me of that time in the bathtub, or the following times where I could not restrain my needs. Rubbing on circles, my other hand went to my mouth, biting on it not to make any sound.

"That is how you did it?" I nodded my head. "Until you exploded?" Again, I acknowledged with my head. "My Lady. Has any man touch you in such a way?" Shaking my head, he offered me a smile. "May I be the first one to do so?" I nodded my head, which he did not seem to like. "Please, use your words."

"I do," I did not hesitate. "I do want to be touched by you, Dylan."

"I might die right now, my Lady." He wandered closer. His hands slowly discarded his dark blue beret. Then, his fingers rapidly unbuttoned his white shirt, which had some dark little stains due to his paintings. His body was fit, enough to make a woman drool. I must say, he seemed broader than what I have imagined. "Have you ever introduced your fingers inside?"

I shook my head.

I hear the sound of his shoes falling to the ground as he kneeled on the end of the bed. His right hand moved my left hand from my clit, leading it to his hair. "Hold on tight, my Lady." Not sure of his next actions, I shivered as his breath hit my heated core. His tongue peeked out from his mouth, gently grazing my centre.

I gripped his soft hair between my fingers, making his gaze shift to look deep into my eyes. His tongue lapped, adding pressure on my clit. I whined as his tender tongue left my core to slid down and up a couple of times, extending my wetness all over my intimate part.

I was utterly surprised when the tip of his tongue ended up inside me, and he seemed to noticed as he grounded it against my walls. His right hand slowly left my thigh, where his grip had been tough. "I will be gentle." His whispers were almost unnoticeable as my moans were louder, feeling one of his warm fingers getting coated by my juices as he introduced it, inside my vagina. "Does it feel good?" Without waiting for an answer, he started thrusting it. His lapping tongue and his thrusting finger, producing a drooling combination.

"Oh my god," The candles that were lit, and resting on the table next to my bed seemed to flatter by a scene hotter than their flames. "Faster, please." I must not lie. Introducing his second finger on me had provided a slight pain. But seconds later, it had been replaced by an unbelievable pleasure. "Please do not make me beg."

"I would like to see you beg, my Lady." His mouth had left my clit, chin dripping with my fluids. "I would love to see you beg under the light of the candles while no one else knows that you are getting the love and passion you deserve." His fingers made a wet sound when they left my insides. I could not help but whine as he got farther from my body but became expectant when his fingers played with his belt.

As soon as he slid his pants down his legs, I could not help but moan again. There was a bulge between his legs, and I could not help but get flustered thinking about having him inside me. However, I was quite worried about his size as he already seemed thick through his pants.

I remembered a scene from a book where this girl had her first experience with her childhood friend. They had become lovers and decided to consume their love on top of the counter of the protagonist's kitchen. Her description of the scene was incredibly detailed. And even though my body had become more heated while reading it, I could not help but be worried when she described the experience as feeling as if she was getting 'ripped', which was quite vulgar but exciting in an unusual way.

I had been distracted by my thoughts, as to when I realized my rounds, Dylan's member was finally free. It stood tall and thick against his stomach. He could not help but contain his grin as I gasped.

"I never-."

"I know, my Lady." His hands grabbed my ankles, calmly making their way to my thighs, which he squeezed while separating my legs even more. "I am utterly happy to be the first and only man to make love to you." Uh? "I will take care of you for the rest of my life." His eyes looked deep into mine, asking for permission for his next movements and actions. Of course, I nodded.

He grabbed his shaft, his hand circling it while he thrust into his clenched fist a couple of times. He left if free, spitting on his hand to later grab his member again, lubricating it.

"I am a little scared," I confessed, shifting my gaze to his face. "You are so thick and long. H-How is that supposed to fit inside-."

"We can stop if you want, my Lady." One of his thumbs caressed one of my thighs. "There is no rush and enough time to do this whenever you feel ready."

"I do want to do it! I am just a little scared." I gulped, glancing down at his member. "Could you maybe go slowly?"

He nodded his head, getting closer and placing a peck on my lips. "Whatever you wish for, my Lady." Asking for permission again, he waited until it was granted, for the tip of his member to graze the lips of my vagina. "Here I go." He started adding pressure. Until the entire tip was inside, making me gasp. "Sh, breathe." His right hand went to my tummy, caressing it. "We can go slower."

I nodded my head as I took deep breaths, ignoring the tears that were falling from the corner of my eyes. A couple of minutes went by when I decided that the pain had become a pleasure. I shifted my hips toward Dylan. I was right as there was only pleasure. "Dylan, please," I whined. "Please move."

His entire member was inside me, and Dylan's thrusts had become steady and swift. His mouth was travelling from my jaw to my lips, sometimes stopping to ask for my well-being.

One of his hands left my hips, going between our bodies as he started circling my clit, adding more pleasure. "Oh my gosh," I raised my voice, not being able to hold back the incredible feeling. "Lord, please go faster." I circled my legs around his hips, bringing him closer if it was possible. His member, hitting places that it could not reach before. Wails of satisfaction came out of my mouth. "Please, fuck me harder."

He seemed quite shocked by my choice of words as his eyes widened. But he had seemed to enjoy them too, as his thrusts became even faster and sloppier. "I will not last long." He groaned, not afraid of expressing his pleasure while his lips grazed my ear. "I have been dreaming of this for so long." His moans made my entire body shiver. His right hand, circling my clit even faster. "Please, my Lady. Tell me you are close. Please."

"I am!" I drowned my screams while biting his shoulder. "I am so close." His left hand travelled to my left nipple, toying with it. The different stimulations, getting me dizzy while my vision became blurry. And I came undone under Dylan's body.

Reading was nothing like experiencing it.

My breath was laborious. Dylan stayed inside, thrusting a couple of times more until he quickly came out, thrusting in his clenched fist. He was going to finish soon. His eyes, questioning where to explode. My hands went to my breasts, holding them together.

Dylan's eyes widened as he understood what I was implying. He moved, his hips getting closer as his dick ended up being embraced by my breasts. I held them in place while he thrust, moaning at the contact. His tip, hitting my chin and lower lip. He did not last much longer, exploding and cumming all over my chin and lower lip.

He gasped, our bodies full of sweat. "I made a mess. I am so sorry, my L-." My tongue peeked out of my mouth, licking some of the cum that was resting on my lower lip. "I-. Oh, gosh." His lips settled up against mine. His tongue, parting my lips so his tongue could slowly dance against mine. "Did it feel good?"

"It felt amazing." I was still trying to breathe at a regular pace.

He kissed my forehead, leaving the bed and wandering to the bathroom. His member was still lightly hard. But he quickly gave me the view of his butt.

When he came back, he was gripping a towel. Sitting on the side of the bed, he slowly cleaned his release from my chin and chest. Then, folding it, he cleaned between my legs. He was cautious, trying not to hurt me as my entire body was sensitive. Next, he discarded the towel.

His body fell on the bed next to mine. We both gazed into each other's eyes with foolish smiles decorating our faces. "I do not want to leave. But night curfew will be soon."

"I do not care." I wrapped my sore body against him, breathing in. "Stay here. Nobody will know. You can leave early in the morning." I did not notice I was pouting until his lips pecked mine. Then, the rest of the night was a cuddling blur as exhaustion took over our bodies.

Another couple of days had gone by, and it was nearly impossible to keep our hands for ourselves. Dylan had been sleeping in my chambers, which was difficult to hide. I had been ignoring my mother and Harold as much as possible. And thankfully, my brother was away in a political meeting with my father. We had also continued the portrait sessions, which sometimes ended with our bodies full of paint as we could not hold back for holding each other.

I must confess that there had been sexual escapes around the palace, which was a surprise, as we did not get caught yet. Momentarily, Dylan's boxers were around his ankles like his pants as I was grabbing the skirts of my dress.

My face and chest were pressed against the wall of a tiny room while he thrust in me from behind. "Ah, we will get caught." He whispered but did not stop his movements. "You are going to be the death of me, my Lady."

We had been walking around the castle until I could not hold back myself anymore. I took Dylan's hand, going inside a tiny room that, it is used, for cleaning materials. Therefore, we were fucking as fast as we could, aiming for a release. "Please, go deeper!"

"I believe I am as immersed as I can, my Lady." The sound of our skin slapping against each other turned both of us on even more.

We both were close to our release. But we were rudely interrupted by the door of the room opening, showing Rosetta and Harold, who stared at us with surprise written all over their faces.

Dylan quickly came out of me, pulling his boxers and pants up while I let the skirts of my dress fall.

"Harold," I started. "Please, do not say anything." My eyes begged. "Could you please give us five minutes and wait in my chambers?" Without saying anything, they closed the door. "Oh my god."

"It is okay, my Lady." Fear was visible in his face and voice.

I was baffled as when entering my chambers, my mother was there, next to Harold. He ignored my gaze, staring deep into Dylan's eyes.

"Mother-."

"I told you!" She did not hesitate to raise her voice. "I know you did not choose to be a princess, but this is what we have to deal with." I could not protest. "I am not trying to make you miserable. I was trying to avoid a situation like this where this young man," Surprisingly, she did not glare at the young man next to me, who was squeezing my hand. "And you will be in danger!" She sighed. "Imagine if it was your father or brother finding you two! They arrived early this morning!" I did not know about their arrival. "He would have killed him and make you watch." I gasped, getting teary. "I did not want you guys to end as I did."

"What?" I asked while being overwhelmed by confusion.

"Your mother," Harold decided to spoke as my mother had to seat on the end of my bed, trying to calm herself. "She fell in love with a servant of this palace, way before you were born." Dylan and I were pretty interested in the story. "You do not choose who you love, my Lady." He shifted his gaze between the two of us. "However, keeping such a secret was complicated. And eventually, someone found out." His hand rested on my mother's back. "Unfortunately, the one that discovered them passionately kissing in the gardens was your father." I gulped while swaying closer to Dylan, searching for his warmth. "He executed him right there, in front of your mother."

"Those white roses used to be red." My mother's voice shook while she referred to those planted in our garden. "It was so repulsive to see that his blood mattered nothing when for me mattered the world. He was my world." She offered us a sad smile. "No one mourned for his loss except me. His body was taken away by other servants in uncaring behaviour. His blood could not be seen, because it had splattered on the flowers that had the same tone." She wept, trying to breathe and calm herself to continue. "It was as if he had never existed. I thought I had gone crazy, and I had imagined the love and the man that I desired to have."

"Mother," My eyes were teary. "I am so sorry that happened to you, and now, I understand you tried to protect me." I glimpsed at Harold for a couple of seconds. "But this is just throwing me into a deeper hole. I will end up in a similar situation to yours, and my children will be doomed, to the same cruel fate." I was desperate. "Mother, destiny can be changed." Dylan was looking at me, a tiny smile on his face while he rubbed one of my freezing hands.

"I have seen you grow up," Harold intervened. "I have learnt every one of your moves, understanding when you wanted to cry or laugh." He grinned, crossing his arms. "Deep inside, I knew one day you would want to fight from the established and dull life you are supposed to live."

"He spoke to me." My mother continued. "Harold opened my eyes, and he taught me to perceive that you were falling in love with this young man." She bowed at Dylan, and he returned the same gesture. "And I perceived that this young man was falling in love with you too."

"Your father and brother lied of their whereabouts." Harold stepped closer. "They bought with them a visitor."

My mother shifted closer to us. "It is the King of Hiraeth." She gulped. "The 52 year-old-man that they expect to marry you with."

"No," I shook my head. "Please, mother." I could not stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. "Please, mother. Do not let them do that. Please. Please." Before I could fall to my knees, my mother held her hand up, offering me a brown bag.

"It is yours now." My mother replied, sliding the bag into my hands. "This will help both of you." Money, there was a lot of gold inside the bag. Dylan was looking inside the container with wide eyes as I did. "If I had stolen money from your father, he would have noticed. Therefore, I bargained my jewellery." Her hand unconsciously went to her neck, and I noticed her diamond necklace missing.

"Here," Harold extended his arm, offering us a piece of paper. Dylan clutched it. It was a map. "That black circle is your shared property. It is a near kingdom, not too far from here but enough for you two to be safe and not be recognized, as the Princess of Onism."

"What?" My mouth was agape.

"It is Elysian. It is a small town full of life, and it is secure." Harold explained with a smile. "It is your new home. The money will help you guys for a couple of years, but of course, my Lady, you will have to get used to a life without servants and luxuries. However, I do not have any doubt that you will be able to adapt to such a life."

"Then," I glanced at my mother. "You are helping me escape?"

"I am helping both of you leave." She cried. "I am helping you get out of the life you did not choose and the one you do not desire." I turned around to stare at Dylan, who had tears running down his cheeks while smiling at me. He shyly pecked my forehead. He wiped his tears while bowing again, staying in that position for a couple of seconds. "No, no, please stand up." He did. "We are family now. Please take care of my little girl."

"I will, your highness." His words sounded so confident that it made my heart beat violently.

"W-What about you two?" I glanced between them. "Are you coming with us?" I was expectant to hear their answer.

My mother shook her head. "We did change our destiny." She referred to the present situation. "Do not worry about us."

"But-."

"My Lady," Harold took me into his arms, embracing me. "Escaping is more complex for us. But do not worry, because we will end up getting away from here. One day, we will." He smiled at me. "For now, Arden is prepared to take you both far from Onism tonight."

I nodded my head. "Take care of my mother, and thank you for being like a father to me." After squeezing him, I quickly hugged my mother. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Before they left my room, my mum turned around. "Dylan is your name, right?" He nodded his head. "I viewed the portrait. It looks marvellous. Take it with you." He was perplexed. "The portrait was for the man that will marry her. That man is you, so that portrait belongs to you."

"I bought gifts!" I overheard two squeals, rolling my eyes with a foolish smile, adorning my features. Two tiny figures ran to the owner of the voice. "Perhaps you both only love me when I bring presents."

"Perhaps they do." I walked closer to the man, whose beautiful smile was aimed, at me. My right hand gripped his arm, a signal for him to lower his head so I could peck his lips. "Welcome home. I made your favourite dish." My lips had trapped his bottom one between mines for a couple of seconds, making him whine lowly.

He seemed to be dumbfounded while pecking my lips a couple of times until our children interrupted the moment with their excitement to know what their father had brought them. "Well," He chuckled. "I bought my little princess this!" He took a stuffed animal from his coffee-coloured bag. Charlotte squealed and giggled while running around the room with her new plaything. "And I bought my not-so-little prince," He remembered how our little boy did not want to be named as a child anymore. "This." He showed him a new brand book, which cover was of a dark blue with golden touches.

Thomas could not help but grin. "This book was printed a couple of days ago! Thank you so much, father!" He tightly hugged his dad. "Perhaps I could bring it with me to the Addington's home?" He could not help but jump around due to his excitement. "I believe Newt will love it too!"

Dylan nodded his head. "Take care fo your sister, please."

The Addington's were a young family of five that lived next door. We were constantly inviting each other over to our homes, wanting the kids to play together. We, the adults, were also mates. A couple of times, we babysit each other's kids to have privacy with our respective partners.

As soon as the kids were out of the door, Dylan's briefcase had fallen to the ground. He had been away for an entire week due to a commission of a portrait where he would earn a lot of money.

His hands were caressing my entire body as we both tried to make our way to our shared chamber, in hopes of continuing the passion there. "I have missed you so much, my Princess."

My fingers moved quickly, trying to untie the dress I was wearing. My hands were sweaty, and Dylan must have noticed as he ended up unlacing my attire. "I am not a Princess anymore."

He swallowed, eyes focused on my breasts as I was not wearing a bralette. Both of his warm hands slid up, cupping my bosom. His fingers grazed my nipples while his entire hands squeezed the rest. "You are right." His gaze shifted to my lips. "You are the queen of my heart now, my Lady." That name had stayed since the very beginning, and every time it came rolling gently out of his lips, my undergarments got drenched.

"I will explode right here, Dylan." I moaned as my hands were busy sliding down his pants while he worked on his jacket and shirt. "I have missed having you around. And being around you."

He groaned, slipping one of his hands behind my back as he squeezed my buttocks. I whined when he pinched it. "You seem to be so desperate for me."

"That smirk," I grinned while kissing his bottom lip. "Perhaps you are as desperate as me." I glanced down as I spotted his hard bulge against my front.

"I am not as needy as you are, my Lady." The last word was said sensually, making my legs shake.

"I am sure you are as needy as me, Sir." It was that word for him. I could feel the temperature of his body rising.

"What does my queen require from such a humble servant?" He acted while sprawling my body down on the bed. His hands, gripping the sides of my panties, bringing the down and discarding them. "Maybe she needs help down here?" One of his fingers ran up and down, collecting my fluids. He did not hesitate to bring that finger into his mouth, savouring it. "My Lady, perhaps I should confess that you taste like Heaven, itself."

His face leaned closer to my core, but I immediately stopped him. He glimpsed at me, confused. "I want to be the one giving you as much pleasure as possible." Sitting down on the bed, my hands pushed against his chest until he was the one lying on his back.

I questioned myself when he had taken his boxers off as his member sprang free, hitting his tummy. Pre-cum was decorating his pink tip while sometimes, you could see it palpitating as the veins were tightening.

My right hand started working immediately, grabbing his shaft while going up and down. I softly squeezed it as his arm rested on top of his forehead, blissfully. My thumb stayed on the tip, playing with the tiny drops of pre-cum.

"Gosh, are you an angel?" His words wavered as my left hand cupped his balls, lightly tugging on them. "My Lady, I need your mouth, please." I attended his demands, my left hand still playing with his balls.

However, my mouth was also sucking on the lowest part of his member. Licking my way up, my mouth embraced the tip of his dick. His hands went through my hair, settling on grasping it forcefully and guiding me down until his entire thick member was inside my mouth.

His moans got louder as his hips could not hold back, shifting upwards, choking me as his tip scraped the back of my throat. "My Lady." Glancing upwards, I could see the sweat falling down his forehead. His entire body was sweating, especially the part of his chest with a spot of hair.

I sucked harder, preventing my teeth from grazing his delicate member. "May I come inside your mouth, my Lady?" Humming against his dick, he seemed to understand my permission. A couple of hard thrusts that chocked me and he was cumming down my throat, spilling a big load. His breath was laborious as his hands caressed my hair back. "Please, ride me."

He whined when his member lost the warmth of my mouth as I shifted my body to position myself on top of him. My left hand was resting against his chest. My other hand, grabbing his still firm member. "May I?" He nodded his head. As soon as he was filling me up, both of us became a moaning mess. "Ah, I felt so empty without your dick inside me."

His hands instantly clutched my hips as he encouraged me to bounce on top him. "You look so ravishing while you bounce on my dick." I moaned, loving his dirty talk. "I could do this every day. I love how your breasts bounce while you are getting stretched by my dick." He gulped. "They have got even bigger after you had our beautiful children." His right hand slapped my ass. "Listen," I ceased my moans as I heard the slapping sounds of our skins. "You are so wet for me, my Lady. Your pussy demands to hold my dick."

Both of my hands were now resting against his chest. "I am going to explode." The hand that was on my ass moved to the front, flicking my clitoris. "You fill me up so good, Sir!"

"I will fill you even more soon." He groaned, sitting down so he could move me closer to my body. Our mouths, touching in an open kiss. "I am going to release my entire load inside you. I am going to impregnate you, my Lady." I moaned. "You want that, right?" His thrusts became sloppier and harder. "You want to get filled and carry another gorgeous baby." I nodded my head. "You are as irresistible while pregnant. The way you cannot keep your hands to yourself. The way your bosom gets even bigger."

"Please, fill me."

No more words needed to be said as our teeth clattered against each other, riding our highs together. My vision got blurry, and my moans louder as I felt all of his huge load filling me up. "Oh, fuck me, my Lady. You take my load so good." The rest was full of kisses and warm under the sheets. His member had softened inside me.

On one of the walls of our chambers, there was a portrait of my younger self. She resembled grave and upset. Her composture seemed forced, but around her body, there were flames. Sparks that represented the passion she badly wanted to share. The adventures she wanted to live. There was a yellow light, which seemed, to be connected to her heart.

Dylan had described a young lady who aspired to live a passionate life. A young woman whose heart and mind were full of hope.

There was a lovely detail on the portrait. On the wall behind the young girl, there was a mirror, where you could perceive a young Dylan, examining the woman before him with a peculiar shining light on his eyes. The identical light young Y/N had while looking at Dylan O'Brien, the humble painter who shared the 'fictional' love she always wanted to experience.The love they both found and fancied.

Yes, destiny could be changed.

.

.

Those who asked to be tagged. Thank you for showing interest: 

@og-baby-ob14​ - @sweetest-serpent01​ - @tovvaa​ - @jazminebrightxx​ - @sonnydoesrandomshit​ - @badgyal-barbie​ - @trustfundparker​ - @blueraindrops​ 

[flickeringart]

Further exploration...

I used this chart when going over the implications of the inner planetary placements (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus and Mars) and their aspects. You can find the post here.

I thought I’d move spontaneously with my own train of thought as it applies to this chart in order to explore it a bit more.

This person is pleasant but private. She’s definitely guarded, as would be expected with Pluto in the 1st, not in a way Saturnian way of being walled off, but in an observant and quiet way of attempting to assess the situation. She would appear to be tolerant and open minded, albeit careful with how she expresses herself, what she reveals and how other people respond (Pluto square Venus). There’s definite optimism but with reserve and caution. Her chart ruler, Jupiter, is in the 8th house of the subconscious and intimate relationships. It would seem as if she’s in for some fated discoveries and adventures, a search for meaning through the depths of the human psyche. It would be safe to assume that wisdom is to be derived from confrontations with the unknown and deeper dimensions of the human existence. In a sense, both the Pluto in the 1st  in Sagittarius and Jupiter in Virgo in the 8th points to a brave explorer that is destined to benefit from getting familiar with the best and the worst of human nature. Her confidence and expansion won’t come through anything superficial, bravery is required to remain curious when faced with the intensity of life. As it happens, Jupiter squares Pluto, which not only indicates a link between the principals of unconscious forces and expansion, but a tense link at that. The survival complex might drive her to jump at every opportunity to be more, learn more and see more of what is hidden from view. “What if I don’t become everything I could be?” is the paranoia of this kind of dynamic. This aspect stimulates action, a pressing need to uncover the truth, to soar higher through diving deeper. There might be great fear fueling the drive to make things happen, causing overextension and inflation. A Sagittarius Ascendant always meets life with boldness and optimism for better or for worse. One can’t miss an opportunity to see what lies beyond the horizon, or in this case, beyond the surface layers of reality!

The Sun, representative of the center of the personality, is inconjunct Jupiter and sextile Pluto, which further confirm the theme of expansion and inner subconscious forces in this person’s life. Sun sextile Pluto implies that there are resources of strength that can be used if necessary. She is probably aware of the power she can wield in terms of resilience, focus and dedication. There’s perseverance and stamina to the personality, without it being compulsive. Sun inconjunct Jupiter is a more ambivalent dynamic. Sometimes, the optimism and general faith seem to be present, at other times she might feel the need to reconsider her perspective and ideas in order to get back on track. Nuance should be considered before setting out on quests and careful deliberation is called for. This is especially true since Jupiter is in Virgo, the analytical earth sign. Modesty, moderation and detailed organization are likely to be skills that bring rewards. It’s not wise to overdo anything and to blindly go for things though– in the case of the inconjunct aspect, things could work out sometimes and sometimes not, which is why discernment is called for. The Sun is in Aquarius, which means that this person is civil and respectful in her personality but also very attached to her own intellectual autonomy and freedom. Aquarians are always friendly and interested in others but never at the expense of their own vision. Aquarius is a fixed sign and won’t except that other people have a sounder mind than they have. Beyond a certain point there’s no room for compromise or deliberation – they like to keep their personal universe intact – even if it’s completely different from everyone else’s. In order for the personality to work well with the abundance of Jupiter in Virgo, she should attempt to be a little more flexible and open to questioning her own fixed mental stance on certain topics. It’s possible to remain in integrity while adjusting certain perceptions and reap the rewards that exploration brings.

Continuing on with the Sun, it forms a conjunction with Neptune, which means that the personality goes hand in hand with the archetypal redeemer, sacrificial victim and artist. There’s softness to this person, passivity and an air of otherworldliness perhaps. In more negative terms, the person might have a personality that exhibits the “holier than thou” attitude. This person can be whatever she likes to be because the identity is not very defined. Yet, she definitely lives in the real world and is keen on materializing the dream, to find herself through her capacity to be potent in the real world (Sun in the 2nd house). The famous painter Frida Kahlo had Sun conjunct Neptune, albeit in Cancer in the 11th house, which indicates a more sensitive and feeling based personality that expressed though art – in the sphere of the collective matters, ideas and change. In the case of this person and this chart, there’s also awareness and emphasis on collective movement and how it affects identity, seeing as the conjunction sits in Aquarius. Self-actualization and individual purpose won’t be found in the sphere of the collective however, it will be found through developing personal control and potency in the real world of material possessions. It’s likely that the person is unaware that the sense of self is tied up with the Neptunian ideal of redemption – conjunct planets usually let us assume that everyone else is the same way – perfectly imperfect, abstract and fluid. Neptune is not very comfortable in the 2nd, being a transcendent principle in a primordial sphere of life. There’s a big risk that when money or possessions are lost that the identity follows down the drain – and painful disillusionment and disappointment instills. Uranus, the Sun ruler, is in Pisces, with further confirms the theme of universal love and collective identity tied to potency in the physical world.

As far as career and work goes, there are a couple of pieces that conspire to make up a certain picture. The ruler of the 10th house of career is Libra, although containing a good bit of Scorpio as well. Venus, the ruler of Libra is in Pisces in the 3rd house of communication, Neptune, the ruler of Pisces conjuncts the Sun in the 2nd. The ruler of the 6th house of work and employment is Gemini, with the ruler Mercury in Capricorn in the 2nd house. Without following the trail any further it’s obvious that there’s a theme of aestheticism and refinement (Libra and Venus) tied up with the redemptive artistic dream (Neptune and Pisces). There’s also interaction, communication and intellectual creativity (Gemini) tied up with material assets (Mercury in the 2nd). Not to mention, Mercury sextiles Venus - a definite indicator of someone who has great writing and communicative skills. There’s a big chance that anything from artistry, writing, sharing, interacting and helping people could be in the cards for this person. As noted, Libra might be the ruler of the 10th but Scorpio also has a presence in the sphere of career matters. In fact, Venus, the ruler of Libra squares Pluto, the ruler of Scorpio. The Venus principle of beauty, love and sophistication makes a tense connection to Pluto, the primitive force, destroyer and transformer. This person might go through power struggles in love and relationships, attempting to control how one is perceived, using subtle dominance tactics to enforce a certain impression. Sociability and charm characterizes the public image as well as privacy, secrecy and guardedness.

Let’s look at relationships, needs and emotions a little bit closer. There are a few things worth exploring, Venus (the sense of beauty and harmony), the 7th house of other people and partnerships, the 8th house of intimacy, death and transformation and the Moon (emotional and physical needs). Since Venus has been touched upon already, let’s look to the 7th house. Gemini is the ruler but Cancer takes up a lot of space as well. The person would seek mental stimulation and interaction through other people, learning and exchange of information. The 7th house is the sphere of life in which the person has to adjust, seek equilibrium and cooperation through the signs occupying the house. Gemini is good at seeing both sides, adapting and playing parts for the fun of it. Cancer is good at sensing the atmosphere and avoiding direct confrontation in order to create safety. The person might encounter struggle and work when tapping into the emotional requirements of being in a relationship, seeing as Saturn is placed here. It would take deliberate striving and concentration in order to achieve some kind of emotional well-being. Since planets in the 7th are easily projected, the person might think other people are walled off, rigid and defensive of vulnerability when in fact it’s a reflection of oneself. The person might have difficulty relating to others on an emotional – physical level, admitting to her instinctual needs and allowing herself to be nurtured and cared for. The Moon, the ruler of Cancer is in Leo in the 8th, quite hidden and brooding underneath the conscious surface. A Leo Moon wants to shine, to be seen and appreciated, but in this case, it lives this out in secret, behind closed doors and through intimate bonds. It’s a powerful Moon, trining both Mars (the personal aggressive drive) and Pluto (the inner emotional forces). Emotionally, this person would be quite demanding, insisting on getting her way. Interestingly, the Moon is also part of a yod figuration, being at the mercy of Venus and Mercury trying to modify and adjust the emotional nature through reason and values. The person might be prone to rationalize and idealize emotion, or try to adjust emotional needs to fit intellectual preferences. There’s a slight polarization of the rational mind - personal preferences and emotional needs. Needless to say this could prove somewhat challenging in relationships. In addition to these aspects, the Moon finds itself in opposition to the Sun (personal identity and purpose) and Uranus (mental convictions and progressive outlooks). In other words the feminine mother archetype is pitted against the masculine father archetype in her life.

The opposition of the Moon and the Sun is usually and indicator that there’s a tendency to disown either one’s instinctual-emotional side or the purposeful conscious direction of one’s life. Some would say that the personal father probably couldn’t relate to the personal mother and vice versa, that they lived complementary lives rather than living a shared experience. The fiery, passionate Moon certainly collides with the more intellectual-rational and “spiritual” Sun conjunct Neptune in Aquarius along with Uranus and Venus in Pisces as well as Mercury in Capricorn. People who have their Moon in opposition to the Sun will seem to have contradictory forces going on, with a Libra-Aries opposition for example, there’s a sociable sympathetic airy personality that fronts in a certain circumstance, and at another time and place that very someone is reckless and impulsive, acting completely “out of character”. A swing of the pendulum has occurred and the Aries Moon has come out, fierce and uncompromising as a striking contrast to the diplomatic and smooth Libra Sun. In the case of this person the dynamic would be similar, the Aquarius Sun would be aloof and quite determined and fixed in conceptual freedom, tolerant, intellectual and open-minded. The contrasting Leo Moon would be bursting with creative energy, wanting to be admired and noticed for its talents and expression. The objective quirk in contrast to the inspired creative can’t exist in the same space and must take turns showing up in life. Because Aquarius and Leo are opposite signs, there’s always going to be ambivalence and insecurity present, the person doesn’t quite know how to integrate the two principals, which is understandable.

It’s likely that the person felt torn between the mother and the father growing up, having to alternate between the two.

Let’s take a closer look at father signifiers in the chart. Let’s look at the 4th house (assuming that the 4th relates to the father) with Aries on the cusp and Mars in Taurus. He must have been quite determined and domestic, presumably quite conventional and aligned with the customs and traditions of society seeing as Mars is sextile Saturn, but also quite eccentric, original and innovative seeing as Mars is sextile Uranus. Mars also makes a square to Mercury, which is a clear indicator of someone who is overly convicted of one’s intellectual capacity to the point of it being detrimental. Although there’s force and sharpness to the intellect there’s pride involved, which might take over and lead to this person forcing information down people’s throats. Mars is also trine the Moon in Leo which would point to a warm and nurturing side. All in all, it seems like the father is quite a force to reckon with – stable, dutiful, exciting, warm, and active, with a risk of going over the top when interacting and engaging with others. In addition to the 4th house image, we have to look to the Sun as a father principle. It’s in the 2nd house of material possessions, which perfectly aligns with the 4th house and its connection to Taurus, the fixed earth sign. Not to mention that the Sun is in Aquarius, highlighting the Uranian connection of inspiration and vision. He would surely be a financially and materially focused person with a lot of inspiration and excitement for the future as well as an interest in public affairs and public relations (Sun inconjunct Jupiter). He’s also a Neptunian type and probably has a rich imaginary realm, inevitably deeply affected by the terrors and misfortunes others are put through, overall sympathetic and accepting of all fates and experiences. There’s also the Sun-Moon opposition, pointing to somewhat of a homebody, deeply connected to the emotional past and its memories. He might’ve had difficulty integrating that part of himself, being a strong presence in the outside world and retreating back into a safe space.

Let’s have a look at mother signifiers in the chart as well. The 10thhouse is unoccupied; Libra is the cusp ruler and Scorpio fills the majority of the house. This is a mother that probably was concerned with behaving in all the socially appropriate ways. It’s also indicative of someone who seeks validation and appreciation and gives it to other people in order to create harmonious atmospheres. She’s also somewhat private, watching her back and letting people know that she sees it all and won’t let things slide. This mother is a pleasant social navigator and private, defensive and biting type. Moving on to the Moon, which gives us an image of a woman of passion and courage, a stubborn fighter (Moon trine Mars and Pluto) working in the shadows of the 8th house. She’s not someone to openly display her force, although it’s certain that she has a whole lot going on beneath the surface layers. Passionate nature aside, she’s also very diplomatic and interactive, although she might have to put in some effort to not let her need to please, interact and care get the best of her (Moon inconjunct Mercury and Venus). She would be restless; the kind to feel trapped and kept apart from her own potential and progression (Moon opposite Uranus) as well as her own purpose, self-actualization and possibly even redemption (Moon opposite Sun-Neptune). It would seem as the mother is trapped through conventional reason (Moon inconjunct Mercury in Capricorn) and self-sacrificing ideals (Moon inconjunct Venus in Pisces). The 8thhouse is related to other people and their resources/values indicating that she is living at the mercy of conditions beyond her own control, at least in her own experience. What other people are willing to support or not support determines her situation – it doesn’t lie within her own control.

[jaehyunsuh]

admiring the christmas lights with you

christmas scenario 🎄

MASTERLIST

please go to the ask box to send your requests, opinion or questions♡ you can interact as much as you want, i love talking lol !

—pairing: Johnny x reader

—genre: fluff/ christmas! au/ boyfriend! Johmny

—words count: +1,100

christmas was such a beautiful time and honestly it became your favorite holiday just recently. Two years ago you met this amazing, caring and kind guy Johnny Suh who, thank god, is now your boyfriend. Before meetings Johnny you weren’t the one to be the most hyped about christmas, you would just have dinner, be with your family but nothing would really make you that excited about, until he came into your life. Johnny is one the people who becomes so excited when christmas time is coming, from December 1st he is already playing christmas songs and makes you watch movies for the rest of them, you are so glad that you met him and he made you see the greatest pleasure out of tiny things.

today was the last day of work, you work for a magazine and you are part of the design department, all of the year you are busy but when the last week of work comes everyone just gets crazy because you all need to end the year with a good image so people can expect more from your product on the following year. There was people screaming everywhere, running, papers all over the place, you weren’t even able to eat anything which made you be even more tired and stressed.

finally the clocked marked 10 pm and it was finally time to leave your office, you feel kinda sorry for wanting to leave so bad but the pressure that you felt this week made you like this. You only saw Johnny a couple of times this week, only for an hour after you arrived home, you feel a little sad that you couldn’t spend as much time together but tomorrow you will make up for it. Sadly you are just so tired today, you just wanna go home and sleep so you won’t be hanging out with him today.

you are entering your room, taking of your shoes and about to undress yourself when you hear your phone ringing, you see the screen and your boyfriend’s name is showing, you smirk and answer. “Hi babe, sorry that I didn’t call earlier, I just came home and i’m really tired.” You say

“Hi beautiful, it’s okay, but I was actually calling because i’m going to pick you up so we can hang out, i’ve missed you so much.” You can hear him being his flirty natural self and smile.

“John, i’m sorry but i’m really tired, but i promise we can spend the whole rest of the month together.” You feel bad for saying this but you just want to have dinner and sleep.

“Y/n please.” He begs through the phone. “There’s something i want to show you, plus if you go with me i can give you tons of kisses that while take your stress away, sounds good right?” He laughs which makes you smile too.

“Oh my god Johnny Suh, okay, it’s okay, i’ll put on my shoes again.” You smile while hearing your boyfriend excitedly celebrating.

“Okay, i’ll be there in five, I promise it’s gonna be worth it.” He says.

“Okay, love you.” You say. “Love you too, see you in five.” You hang up and the call is over.

exactly five minutes later you hear a car and you go outside and see your boyfriend. He gets out of the car and gives you the biggest hug.

“Hi, i’ve missed so much.” He says and later leaving a kiss on your lips. “Johnny we haven’t seen each other in 3 days.” You laugh because of how exaggerated he is.

“Well, I feel like it’s been years.” He laughs. “Whatever, let’s go.” He holds you hand leading you to the car, opening your door first and then going to the driver’s seat. He stars the car and you are on the go.

You were a little quiet during the ride, not because you didn’t want to talk or anything, but the car ride and having Johnny next to you made you feel even more relaxed. Johnny stops because of the red light and looks at you.

“So how was work this week?” He holds your caressing it with his thumb.

You sigh. “So insanely stressful, everyone was constantly screaming and papers where flying around, it was a mess.” You shake your head and close your eyes. “But we are finally done thank god, now I can be with you.” You smile and Johnny smiles back at you.

the light changes to green and your boyfriend keeps driving. “Okay we are almost there.” He says playfully.

“Where are we going?” You say confused. “You will see.” He smirks. “Now please close your eyes and promise me you won’t open them until I tell you too.” You roll your eyes while laughing but continue to do what your boyfriend asks you to.

You feel how the car starts going slower . “Okay, now, open!” You slowly open your eyes trying to adapt to the bright lights in front of you, when you are able to focus your eyesight completely what you see it’s beautiful.

there colorful christmas lights hanging on the top, creating some type of tunnel. You look around and see every single house and store that it’s around full of christmas decorations and more beautiful lights that accompanies it. You smile widely because of how happy and free you suddenly feel by seeing all of this.

“Wow, Johny, this is beautiful!” You say while still being startled by all the beautiful lights. He looks at you with a warming smile.

“I know, I heard that today this area was going to light up the whole street and I thought that I should take you, and it’s really beautiful, isn’t it?” He looks straight into your eyes keeping his smile.

“Of course it is! this is probably the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.” You say exalted. “Thank you so much for bringing me here, and thank you for making me come.” You smile and grab his hand.

“You are welcome baby, I just wanted you to relax a bit because you have worked so hard.” He takes your hand to his lips and leaves a kiss. You keep admiring the lights and decorations that accompany the street and talk for a long time while enjoying each other’s company.

“You know what’s eve more beautiful that all of those lights?” Johnny turns his head, looking straight into your eyes.

“What?” You ask.

“You.” He leans closer to you and gives you the softest and sweetest kiss ever. You laugh because of how cheesy he is. You focus on the kiss and he makes you feel so good and warm, making up all the stress that you went through this week.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis is a series that looks at villains across various media in the hopes of coming to something of a consensus on the overall quality of the character. Are they performed well? Do they enrich the narrative? Are their motives fleshed out? Are they voiced by Tim Curry and thus a sex icon? 

There are a lot of important questions that I look into, but ultimately, Psycho Analysis boils down to asking one simple little question: How bad can a character be?

Thankfully, there’s one villain who decided to answer that question for me... in song form.

Psycho Analysis: The Once-ler

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Yeah, I’m finally talking about everyone’s favorite greedy bastard who, back in some of the darkest days of Tumblr history, ended up being the premier sexyman on the website. People were thirsting over this twiggy weirdo, acting as if he were God’s gift to women and shipping him with alternate versions of himself. Much like the movie he’s from, he is now incredibly hard to take seriously.

But hey, speaking of alternate versions of himself, I’m going to be covering him from the original book and the animated short film as well. Might as well just knock it all out of the park at once, right? Now let’s see how ba-a-a-ad this guy can be.

Motivation/Goals: The Once-ler is all about biggering. He’s making thneeds (things that everyone needs) and he is gonna stop at nothing to craft these things. Not even the power of the Lorax, Danny DeVito or otherwise, is going to stay his hand from getting that sweet, soft Truffula fluff to make his wares. This is ultimately a little unrealistic, at least for the Illumination version; if Danny DeVito asked me not to do something, I’d listen, no questions asked.

Performance: In the animated special, Bob Holt does double duty, as he is portraying both Once-ler and the title character. It works really well for what they’re going for, and the double casting is interesting because it highlights the ultimate role of the Lorax as the Once-ler’s conscience given form.

In the film, Ed Helms portrays the Once-ler, and he’s fine. He’s certainly better casting than Audrey, but that’s not particularly saying much considering that’s a non-singing Taylor Swift (when Cats is able to utilize Taylor Swift better than your musical, you know there’s trouble). I don’t know, Ed Helms is fun and all, but I’m just not sure his take on the Once-ler is all too compelling overall.

Final Fate: In the original book and the special, the Once-ler wins… but even he realizes it’s a terrible, pointless victory, and all he has achieved is ruin, his family leaving him, his business ultimately collapsing, and the environment permanently damaged. He’s left as a miserable, jaded hermit, broken by the bleak consequences his greedy actions have sown upon the world and only able to tell his story and pass on the last Truffula seed in the hopes that maybe, maybe someday the trees can regrow and the Lorax will return. The Illumination version follows this but then tacks on a happy ending  where the Lorax and Once-ler reunite because as we know ambiguity and bittersweet endings cannot exist in children’s films.

Best Scene: Obviously it’s the scene where he shakes his ass to seduce Jack Frost, in one of the greatest gay romances ever put to film.

Joking aside, it is undoubtedly his villain song. It has become such a meme, but real talk? “How Bad Can I Be” slaps. This is a really good song, probably too good for the movie but you know what, I’ll take it.

Best Quote: HOW BA-A-A-AD CAN I BE? Yes, I’m using a line from his villain song. Sue me.

Final Thoughts & Score: What can one really say about the movie version of the Once-ler that hasn’t already been run into the ground? Well, how about… He’s not too bad, honestly? Like, yes, he has next to nothing to do with his book counterpart and they really go way too far into trying to make a capitalist pig sympathetic… but the animated special from the 70s did that too. I think the Once-ler honestly works better when there is a dash of complexity to him and he isn’t just a simple-minded Captain Planet villain.

Of course, the issue here is that the 70s version took a simpler approach, kind of less is more. The 70s Once-ler brings up some valid points to the Lorax about his work, and the Lorax can’t help but agree that there’s no easy answer while also stressing that the environmental devastation is still really, really bad. It works, it feels complex, and it arguably helps the ultimate point that we need to protect the environment better than even the book did (and I love the book, don’t get me wrong, but its take on the Once-ler is a bit too simple for its own good; it almost runs into the Femme Fatale problem by being a bit too much of a strawman). The movie version has a bit too much going on, especially with his family. His family are much more blatantly evil, greedy, and manipulative, but they’re relegated to the background for much of the film and don’t effect things all that much. The whole narrative would have been infinitely stronger if they were the greater scope villains behind Once-ler and were who needed to be defeated and maybe taught a lesson, but instead they are ignored in favor of someone I’ll address very shortly.

All of this leaves movie Once-ler feeling extremely disjointed, but not irredeemably so. As I said before, his villain song is unironically awesome, and as lame as it is compared to the more haunting, contemplative ending of the book and the special, I’m not so much of a curmudgeon that I didn’t at least smile when he finally reconciled with the Lorax. Ultimately though, him being memed to death really didn’t help his case, but it means I’m not giving the movie version anything less than a 3/10. He might in fact be the best “so bad it’s good” villain ever, or at least up there. He’s just so undeniably enjoyable even if the narrative isn’t making him as complex as it thinks it is. The animated special version gets a 9/10, the book version is a 7/10, and the Once-ler’s family gets a 5/10 for being an interesting concept they sadly do little with, which will now be elaborated on as I follow up on the foreshadowing from the last paragraph...

Psycho Analysis: Aloysius O’Hare

Remember how I said the Once-ler’s family gets ignored in favor of someone else? Here he is, Aloysius O’Hare, one of the absolute lamest villains ever put to screen.

Motivation/Goals: He’s greedy. That’s it. I’m not kidding. He’s just a cartoonish caricature of a rich person, which still makes him a realistic portayal but also makes him boring as sin compared to the wacky dude with a big musical number about how bad he can be.

Performance: Rob Riggle does a decent job, but there’s really not much for him to work with here. This character is a cardboard cutout who exists to be as cartoonishly greedy and evil as possible with no nuance so the kids know who to root against and so that Once-ler doesn’t look bad in comparison.

Final Fate: Look, he’s a blatantly evil corporate villain in a kid’s movie about the environment. Of course he gets defeated and everyone turns on him. What’s especially funny though is that, on the brink of learning his lesson, he rejects any form of redemption and just goes whole hog on being a villain.

Best Scene: I will absolutely give him this: in the face of his ultimate defeat, after having the virtues of trees sung to him and the entire town turning on him, he for a moment contemplates turning over a new leaf… and then absolutely rejects the thought and instead decides being evil is just too much fun, at which point he tries to get everyone back on his side by seeing a funny little song about death while wavedashing. If more shitty villains did this, I don’t think there would be shitty villains.

Best Quote: LET IT DIE, LET IT DIE, LET IT SHRIVEL UP AND DIE! Yes I’m quoting a song again.

Final Thoughts & Score: Look, I’m not gonna mine words here: O’Hare sucks. Big time. He is a prime example of why The Lorax failed as an adaptation. In a story that is dealing with a moral grayness with no easy answers, O’Hare is just a big, blatant target, a dark shade of black in terms of black-and-white morality. He’s like a reject Captain Planet villain with Edna Mode’s haircut.

The movie would have been infinitely better if, instead of him, the Once-ler’s family were in control of the town, and they needed to learn the lesson about saving the trees instead of simply vanishing from the story. They were shown to be overbearing, manipulative, and greedy, and they had a much more personal connection with Once-ler being, you know, his actual family. The fact they abandon him and never really get any sort of comeuppance despite being perhaps the most evil people in the move, egging on Once-ler and taking full advantage of him, makes O’Hare all the more egregious, because there could have been some strong thematic elements that would have tied the film together and made it come off as much less preachy and more nuanced.

But we don’t live in a world where that happened, we live in a world where we got O’Hare. Aside from some genuine hilarity from him at the end, O’Hare really adds very little to the film. I gotta give him a 2/10, but I will say he’s a lot closer to a 3 than he is to a 1; there’s no denying his absolute rejection of learning a moral is absolutely hilarious. I love when villains do that. It’s just a shame those funny moments are wrapped up in something monumentally unimpressive.

[charlemange1]

Ranking adaptations of Victor Frankenstein from least to most evil

The character Victor Frankenstein has been adapted many times over the years. Sometimes he’s a heroic YA protagonist while others have him using his clone army to wipe out humanity and take over the world. But which Victor is truly the worse?

After reading several adaptations, I’ve decided to rank Victor’s morality in each one and find out! The gothic lit community doesn’t talk about these adaptations much, so hopefully this list can introduce the fandom to some of the lesser-known interpretations out there!

This is part one, which ranks printed retellings only. If people enjoy it, I’ll do a part two and merge the films into the mix!

Disclaimers (please read):

SPOILERS! Victor’s actions in these adaptations will be thoroughly analyzed with no regard for the spoiler tag.

Some of the more evil Victor’s get into dark territory, and while I will not go into extensive detail (lest I go insane) if mentions of abuse, sexual themes, possessive behavior and murder bother you, don’t make my mistake and turn back! (I will leave an additional reminder when said parts come up)

This list centers on Victor’s actions and NOT the quality of the books themselves—so if you see your favorite title getting a low score it’s not because it’s a bad book—it’s because Victor is a jerk.

This list is by no means complete, just the ones I’ve read personally.

These are my silly personal opinions and if you disagree with my ranking that’s perfectly fine!

Ranking: On a 1-10 scale, with 10 being fantastic and 0 being “run if you see this man in a dark alley.”

10/10 Perfect Sunbeam. Overall great, wholesome guy!

*crickets chirp in a serene backdrop of a Romantic field*

Good dude

Junji Ito’s Frankenstein: 8.5/10

Props to the master of manga monsters for making the twist be that Victor is not secretly evil/insane.

Not only does Victor pity the creature and agree to create a mate for him—but he keeps his word! This is especially touching when you consider how the creature treks alllllll the way to Switzerland to dig up Justine’s head as a face for the bride. (Henry says he probably didn’t know it was Justines, but come on, you just happened to pick up the head of the girl you framed and carried it for miles across land and sea to deliver it to Victor instead of stopping somewhere closer? I don't buy it.)

Victor even goes the extra mile, kindly stating:

Yet the bride rejects the creature (not Victor’s fault) and in revenge, the creature kills Henry, Elizabeth, and Alphonse. In retaliation, Victor follows him onto the ice and relates his tale to Walton before dying.

Victor's actions are nothing heroic, but what more could he have done? He didn’t break his promise and kill the bride like in the original novel and he clearly cared about reanimating “Justine” as shown in the above image.

And did I mention this manga was done by Junji Ito? Would YOU stay in the same room if you created a Junji Ito monster? Didn't think so! After the initial mistake of abandoning his monster, this Victor did the best he could to make amends and protect his family--making him an overall good person.

Decent guy

This Dark endeavor by Kenneth Oppel: 7/10

Serving as a prequel to the original novel, This Dark Endeavor tells the untold story of what leads young Victor Frankenstein to create his monster.

While Victor very much struggles with his angsty dark desires (bad), he tirelessly searches for the alchemic "Elixir of Life" to save his twin brother (good). A brother who is more talented than Victor, has the heart of his love interest, and Victor believes everyone prefers over himself.

Good on you, Victor, for letting the love for your brother override understandable sibling jealousy. If that wasn’t enough to make him decent, letting a few fingers be cut off to save his twin definitely does.

What brings Victor down to a 7 is his relationship with Elizabeth. It’s born out of jealousy from her loving his twin rather than genuine affection. Even if this retelling makes Elizabeth a feisty, pants-wearing independent female (to lessen the possessive undertones Victor exhibits, I presume? Read it and judge for yourself), the relationship does nothing positive for his character. Tricking someone into kissing you is a jerk move, bro.

Ok I guess….

Such Wicked Intent by Kenneth Oppel 6/10

The sequel to This Dark Endeavor loses Victor’s careful balance of good and bad traits its predecessor boasted. Victor wasn’t perfect in TDE, but the majority of his negative actions stemmed from trying to save his ill brother and were mostly forgivable. In Such Wicked Intent, his understandable sibling jealously now comes off as petty since Victor’s twin is already dead.

Victor trying to bring his brother back to life (good) is undermined by his growing reliance on supernatural butterflies that increase his abilities despite other characters pointing out the obvious danger. Victor is also not the greatest parent to Twin 2.0 and the previous issues with him and Elizabeth from book 1 don’t improve. He’s the same Victor from TDE, but the plot focusing on his selfish desires makes him more flawed as a result.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (the original novel): 6/10

Depending on how you interpret the events of the original novel, Victor is either a college Dad in over his head and trying his best after an initial mistake, or a misogynistic, irresponsible jerk only capable of thinking of himself. There are enough professional articles to support both interpretations, and I’m not the person to pick one over the other. 

However, if the narrative he tells Walton is to be taken as truth (and the creature not correcting Victor's account tells me it is), Victor spent most of the novel trying to fix his mistake (intentions may vary)—and isn’t too bad as a result.  

Pride and Prometheus by John Kessel: 5/10

Despite being a crossover with Pride and Prejudice, Kessel tries to be as faithful to the original Frankenstein as possible. However, the few changes he makes hurts Victor from a moral standpoint.

Victor’s not the greatest guy when handling the romantic gestures of both Mary Bennet and Henry. Also, murdering his creature's mate with poison right before they leave to start their happily ever after is awful, but understandable from his point of view.

Then there's P&P's ending, where Walton describes meeting Victor on the ice. It’s revealed that Victor left killing the creature's mate and the Bennet’s out of his narrative. While this is probably Kessel justifying why Jane Austen’s characters and his changes weren’t mentioned in the original text (and who can blame him?) it does make Victor a liar. In the original, the creature never called Victor out for omitting anything—so altering the story on his deathbed places P&P’s Victor a rung lower than his original counterpart.

Ehh….

Frankenstein According to Spike Milligan: 4/10

As a nearly-word-for-word retelling with minor, humorous changes by the comedian Spike Milligan, Victor is more pathetic than anything. He’s a harmless, pathetic, hilarious jerk.

Some quotes:

"I bounded along with feelings of unbridled joy and hilarity. From a great distance my family could see me bounding with unbridled joy and hilarity." (53)

*

"'I tell you,’ I said, ‘that murderer had his trousers down, was eating fish paste sandwiches and traveling 100 miles per hour.’" (59)

*

"‘I can offer you no consolation,’ said he.

‘Then piss off.’ said I." (54)

Here’s his jail visit with Justine in animatic form (and me shamelessly plugging my other creative endeavors)

Monster by Neal Bell 3.5/10

Warning: contains mentions of animal abuse

On one hand, Victor wants to conquer death to save his family and is clearly disturbed over Justine's and his mother’s death. However, the man expresses little concern at the possibility of William getting struck by lightning with his kite in front of his mother who had already lost 9 children.

He can also talk to dogs and cats (for…some reason?) who are portrayed as intelligent beings with feelings—yet that doesn’t stop him from eating said dogs in the Arctic and killing said cat after threatening her with a knife. He also flings around Bible verses while being painfully egotistical about “being God”.

Using Henry’s romantic affections toward him to his advantage, briefly forcing himself on Elizabeth, and tenderly caring for his monster only to abandon him after the creature expresses a want to die just makes him an awful person all around. The fact he doesn’t do these things with clear malicious intent saves him from being any lower.  

Quotes:

ELIZABETH: A bone. A brittle bit of skin. A tooth—

VICTOR: Would you not be womanish now?

Be useful. Here—hold the Leyden jar,

While I attach the string…

*

VICTOR: A satisfactory morning, then, Mister Puss—tormenting the dogs?

CAT: God gave me a duty. I fulfill it.

VICTOR: Papa says there is no God.

(He takes out a knife)

Pretty bad dude

WARNING: Please note that some of these Victors get into unsavory territory. If the mention of sexual themes/abuse/murder bothers you turn back:

The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein by Peter Ackroyd: 3/10

This one was tricky. The narrative chugs along with Victor being an intelligent, thoughtful guy with only a few obsessive tendencies. He’s chilling with the Shelleys, talking to the poor in the streets and financially supporting Fred’s family along with giving out generous tips. He’s a cool guy. He’s a great dude! He’s….revealed in the final 2 pages to be recounting everything from a mental asylum, the monster was in his head, and he’s actually the one that committed the murders.

Alrighty then.   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Having his insanity revealed in the final pages, it’s hard to judge whether there was genuine malicious intent or if Victor truly thought he created the creature and believed he was doing good in trying to “stop” it. No matter his intentions though, the body count remains and a child strangler has no place being anything higher than a 3.

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White: 1/10

We all knew this one would make the list. Elizabeth’s first flashback sets up Victor as having serious issues—the question becomes how low will he go? Turns out pretty low. 

He’s the one who killed William and framed Justine along with murdering his father, brother Robert and various people at Ingolstadt. 

What really makes him despicable is that Elizabeth is the novel's main POV character who only sticks with Victor so she’s not thrown out on the streets. He’s abusive, controlling, dominating, and so possessive that he’ll perfect reanimation so that not even death can take her away from him! Yikes. I can’t stress enough how being in Elizabeth’s POV makes these actions all the more menacing. 

Quote:

“There was never another path for you. Consider how much worse it has all been for me. How much I have had to suffer. And how much of that suffering has been caused directly by you!” His face twitched, and his fingers tightened on the pistol. Then he sighed. “It does not do to dwell on it. There is no point in fighting. This is your fate, Elizabeth Frankenstein. I will let no other claim you—not man, not death, not even God.” (279)

Nice guy.

Despite his terrible actions, Victor is trying to "save" Elizabeth from death. In his mind, he wants what’s best for her. It’s a crazy mind that mixed up domination and love, but the fact that his evil actions come from wanting to keep someone he wants to control cares about safe vs. other versions where his crimes stem from wanting to rival god and rule the world, this version isn’t THAT bad. At least his hearts in the right place—even if his mentality is utter garbage.

The Memoirs of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Theodore Roszak 0/10

*insert my screams of insurmountable anguish here*

Caroline: Hey son, you should do NSFW things.

Victor: Sure. I will now do NSFW things.

Victor: *proceeds to do NSFW things*

The reprint of this novel mentions on the cover it’s erotica, but the copy I bought (and to this day have not finished) had no such disclaimer. I’ll break my rule and speak on the quality of this book: there is none. For an alleged “pro-feminism” novel everyone is terrible—and Victor is no exception.

Literally Satan.

Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein Series: -∞/10

So you’ve read far enough to join me in Hell.

Where do even I start? This is a Victor who extended his life to the present day. Who worked with Hitler, Stalin, Castro and regretted the fall of the Third Reich. Who created an army of emotionally deprived “new race” creations to kill people and assume their identities so he could ascend the ranks of politics. Who, once he has enough of his new race integrated into society, desires to commit mass genocide on humanity and establish himself as supreme ruler of the world—only then can he conquer the cosmos as well because why the hell not?  

Oh, and he’s a wife-beater/murderer too! Which isn’t a problem, considering he can create a new wife whenever he sees fit (he was on Erika 5 by book 3). The sheer lack of any positive traits in this man is laughable. Koontz really, REALLY wants to get across that Victor is a bad guy.

And if you’re somehow not convinced by the above description, here are some quotes I pulled from the first 3 novels as a bonus to reeeeeally sell how despicable this clown is:

Regarding Elizabeth:

“Victor had not loved Elizabeth. Love and God were myths he rejected with equal contempt. But Elizabeth had belonged to him. Even after more than 200 years, he still bitterly resented the loss of her, as he would have resented losing an exquisite antique porcelain vase if [his creature] had smashed that instead of the bride,” (3.97). 

Regarding Mary Shelley:

“When Mary Shelley took a local legend based on truth and crafted fiction from it, she made Victor a tragic figure and killed him off. He understood her dramatic purpose for giving him a death scene, but he loathed her for portraying him as tragic and as a failure. Her judgment of his work was arrogant. What else of consequence did she ever write? And of the two, who was dead—and who was not?” (1.79-80)

(Author Note: For your information, Victor, The Last Man is considered by some to be the first dystopian novel)

His…ah…"friends”:

“Fire was featured in some of his less pleasant memories. The great windmill. The bombing of Dresden. The Israeli Mossad attack on the secret Venezuelan research complex that he had shared with Mengele in the years after World War Two. Nevertheless, he liked to read to the accompaniment of a cozy crackling fire,” (1.76).

*

“Victor admired Hitler. The Führer knew talent when he saw it.

In the 1930s and 40s, Victor had worked with Mengele and others in Hitler's privileged scientific class. He made considerable progress in his work before the regrettable allied victory…the problem with the Führer had been that his roots were in art and politics…The future did not belong either to artists or to politicians,” (2.24-25).

Dat ego tho:

“When I die, those cells will be capped descend a signal that will be relayed by satellite to everyone made of new race flesh, to every meat machine that walks. And you will fall down dead,’…Victor smiled, anticipating triumph in spite of their silence. ‘Did you think a God would die alone?’” (3.345).  

*

Civilization would not be remade or sustained by Christianity or by Islam. Neither by Scientologists nor by the bright-eyed adherence of the deliciously solipsistic paranoid new religion encouraged by The Da Vinci Code. Tomorrow belonged to scientism. The priests of scientism were not merely robed clerics performing rituals, they were gods, with the power of gods. Victor himself was their Messiah,” (2.25).

*

“With Victor's unstoppable drive for power, with his singular intellect, with his cold materialism and his ruthless practicality, and now with synchronicity on his side, he had become untouchable, immortal.

He was immortal,” (3.329).

*

“How they goggled at him, abashed by his wisdom and knowledge, mortified by their ignorance, over-awed by his godlike power,” (3.330). 

*

“’Murder,’ said the caller. ‘murder…excites me.’

Victor kept the growing concern out of his voice. ‘No, your mind is fine. I don't make mistakes.’” (1.156)

Oh yeah, he has a wife, doesn't he:

“This is why Victor requires …the cruel humiliation of his partner. He has long ago transcended the guilt that committing acts of cruelty might spawn in others...the exercise of raw power thrills him,” (1.244).

*

“I have given you a life…remember that. I have given you a life, and I will choose what you do with it,” (1.464).

Wives view of him:

“She owned literally hundreds of outfits. Having been created to his ideal measurements, Victor had purchased everything…She hoped that someday she would be allowed to shop for herself. When Victor allowed that, she would know she had at last met his standards and earned his trust. Briefly, she wondered what it would be like not to care what Victor—or anyone—thought of her. To be herself. Independent. Those were dangerous thoughts. She must repress them.” (1.107)    

*

And those are just the PG bits, he does much, much worse.

*

In conclusion:

So yes, Spike Milligan made Victor a pathetic jerk, Casebook made Victor a madman, Memoirs made him an erotic predator, Dark Descent had him as an abusive boyfriend ruthless in possessing “his Elizabeth”,  but nearly succeeding at worldwide genocide while abusing/murdering/manipulating people to achieve his goals makes Dean Koontz’s Victor Frankenstein the worse, more morally despicable Victor Frankenstein of them all. At least from what I’ve read.

Annnnd that’s it! If you want me to make a part 2 and add in the films/plays let me know! Hopefully at least one of these peeked your interest as something to check out during spooky season.

Shameless plug-in: here’s my own Frankenstein adaptation

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Bonus!

Ranking the books on how much I liked them personally!

Great:

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein: Nice to see Victor’s villainy stem from family relations and not ego and wanting to defy God for a change.

Junji Ito’s Frankenstein: Phenomenal artwork, fairly faithful adaptation, and the changes serve to put Victor in a better light—which I love! The master of manga monsters himself made the right choice in keeping the creature more monstrous in this version instead of focusing on his humanity.

This Dark Endeavor: Frankenstein characters go on a Harry Potter styled adventure. Need I say more?

Average:

Such Wicked Intent: Victor’s character takes a dip, and pit monsters/life-absorbing butterflies don’t quite fit in a Frankenstein prequel.

Frankenstein According to Spike Milligan: It’s a silly, stupid comedy. Got a few chuckles out of me.

Pride and Prometheus: The concept works way better than it should. However, it follows the original text to a fault and can be boring at points. 

Bad:

Warning: contains mentions of suicide 

Monster: Victor’s character was far too inconsistent to be likable. He can talk to animals why, exactly?

Casebook of Victor Frankenstein: So, Victor is revealed to be crazy in the final 3 pages? So, the monster was in his head? Alright. But other characters throughout the book SAW the monster and described him like Victor did. So, there’s no way to separate Victor’s POV from reality and that kills the reread value and makes this a waste of time. Don’t get me wrong, the creature being symbolic for Victor’s inner demons is a fascinating direction if done well—and I recommend the essay “Frankenstein: The Man and the Monster” by Arthur Belefant if you want a much shorter exploration of this concept. It’s not perfect, but beats Casebook by a longshot!

Also, taking the real-life suicide of Percy’s wife Harriet and turning it into Victor murdering her and framing it on someone else to mimic Frankenstein’s Justine/William scene is just wrong. You made a woman’s suicide a cheap plot point in your fanfic of the mistress’s novel. That is what you did, author.

Dean Koontz Frankenstein: It starts out good and has great suspense—too bad the actual plot is awful. Victor’s so painfully evil it comes off as comical, the characters are bad/bland, plot holes abound (they state Mary Shelley’s novel is canon, then mention the windmill which was only in the films—so who even IS this Victor? Book or film?). The conclusion in book 3 is one of the most underwhelming finals I’ve ever read, and the creature “cures” a kid of Autism in the final chapter. No really. How this is a book series/comic series/movie is beyond me.

So atrocious I couldn’t bring myself to finish:

Warning: contains mentions of sexual themes

The Memoirs of Elizabeth Frankenstein: It claims to be pro-feminist, but the women “good guys” blatantly state they are grooming children for sexual rituals and Victor and Elizabeth are coerced into doing NSFW things by Victor’s mother in the name of “women’s rights”. Here’s the kicker: these awful actions are framed as being positive. I—a woman—loath this novel. Maybe things got better by the end (and if there was some plot twist that changed the entire setup, I apologize for ranting about nothing) but I’m not reading to that point to find out! This will forever stay both my first and last experience with erotic literature. Thank goodness The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein exists to give us a decent feminist take on Frankenstein!

[eyezari]

math tutor (tsukki x f!reader)

you’ve been annoying tsukishima to be your math tutor considering he was the top student and he keeps rejecting you,, one day you finally give up and ask the second top student for help and he clearly was not happy about it

consider this!!!

→ gender-neutral y/n!  

→ little angst.... if you squint..

→ possessive tsukki?? is this even a warning

→ not punctuated correctly

“just this one question? surely...!” you plead, holding tightly onto your textbook. you were so close to failing this semester and you really needed your average to be lifted through the upcoming exams. when everyone thought it was the easiest subject, you found it the most difficult. 

so you’re back again, the next day. tsukki was used to you coming up to him every lesson to ask for help,, in fact its been going on since the beginning of the year. and he never helped. not once. 

you don’t know why you kept coming back and begging him when you knew damn well he was gonna give you the same harsh answer. he would say things like, ‘are you dumb? of course not.’ or ‘not in a million years.’ and his personal favourite, ‘please come back during business hours.” (you still don’t know when that is)

yamaguchi, who sat next to him looked at you two amused. “please! this is probably the most difficult one yet. khan academy didn’t help. i’ve tried everything.” tsukishima didn’t even bat an eye, he didn’t even spare a glance and his head down onto his page. you sigh. 

“y/n, who do you take me for?” he finally said and you sigh again. you were seriously lost and the math teacher is always out of the room doing whatever. the revision notes, you just didn’t understand. and your friends just gave you shallow explanations. 

the reason why you went to him in the first place is when you overheard him teaching another girl in class. she didn’t understand anything but it’s like he adapted her learning method and explained it to her like it was the easiest thing in the world. after that, that girl never failed to get good grades. ‘why doesn’t he wanna teach me?.. it’s just one question..’ you thought. 

to be honest, your heart would just ache whenever you thought about it. he decided to help someone else and they passed the whole year but couldn’t give you a single answer. you groan, scratching your head when you read the question again. then you turned to hinata, “hey, tsukishima has helped you guys out before right?”

“tsukishima? yeah but he gave up after and refused to teach us anymore, lol.” he smiles at you before going back to playing with his volleyball keychain. oh. so it was really just you who he refused to help. maybe it’s because you’re not close? no, you’ve known each other for quite sometime.. as.. friends. wait, no.. acquaintances? your jaw dropped as you realised, ‘does he not even think of me as a friend......bruh..’ 

you shook your head and just kept doing the rest of the practice test, skipping questions that you were unsure of.

the next week after you marked your practice test; you realised you were still way behind. you barely passed half of it, with an underwhelming score of 30 out of 58. you still didn’t understand most of it. not even photomath explained well. you sneak a peek at tsukki’s paper... 58 out of 58.. huh. interesting. he recently went on a training camp for volleyball club and still managed to study well. you stood up to stand in front of his desk which was next to yours. 

“tsukki.” you try and get his attention, but with his headphones on his head, it might be difficult. you repeated his name several times, nervously fidgeting with your fingers. you noticed he was in a sort of sour mood after his volleyball training camp and you couldn’t help but to feel bad you were disturbing him. 

with a scowl on his face, he removes his headphones. “what now?”

you became even more nervous now that his attention was on you. “um, can i just ask how you did the quadratic relations part.. i just don’t quite understand.” you said quietly. 

he only glared at you. “y/n, you must be fucking with me.” he said suddenly, catching you off guard. “how many times do i have to say no? it’s been too long. don’t you know how to give up? you’re so annoying honestly, get it through your brain. i’ll never teach you anything” those words hit you like a truck. especially because they came from tsukki. 

tears stung at your eyes and honestly, you were at a loss for words. you wanted to apologise and explain yourself but you couldn’t. a thought went through your head, ‘maybe it is annoying to constantly ask him for help..’ 

you muttered a “sorry” before quickly returning to your seat, not to mention that yamaguchi was quite shocked too and gave you an apologetic smile. you felt extremely embarrassed he just said that in front of the whole class. a few minutes later, you excused yourself from class and ran to the bathroom just to fix yourself up. somehow, you were choking on your tears.

it really shouldn’t have hurt you this much, but knowing you made tsukki dislike you even more just hit a different nerve. 

the next few days, you’ve been trying hard. but clearly not hard enough since you are still barely passing the revision. you were extremely disappointed in yourself since you did make an effort to learn but it simply wasn’t enough. you really wanted to apologise to tsukki but knew it would make things worse so you didn’t even try to talk to him. but you were hopeless, you just needed the explanation to the topic because you didn’t have anyone around you to ask. 

then you had an idea... the second top student named saiki came back from his trip. surely he’d help you just a little bit. you glance to your right, to where his desk was. and he did attend school! working up the courage to ask him, you turned to him. “welcome back.” and he smiled at you, waving at you. 

“how are your studies?” he said, resting his head on his palm. 

you groaned, “bad. i am literally hopeless at this. do you mind just explaining the parabola thing? i just don’t get it.” this caught the attention of many people around you. especially tsukki. your classmates suddenly thought it was weird you weren’t bugging tsukishima, maybe you have finally learnt your lesson. 

yamaguchi’s ears perked up as well, and suddenly everyone was lowkey trying to listen. “yeah!” and you smiled brightly. saiki moves his desk to get closer to you and he starts explaining the problem. at first it was confusing, but he tried to dumb it down for you as much as possible. you were seriously grateful because you understood most of it.

“thank you so much, jesus christ.” you sighed in relief. “so it opens downwards and the directrix is 2?” 

“yup. good job.” he pats you on the head. you smiled back. 

“wrong.” someone called out randomly, and you turned to your left to see it was tsukishima. “it’s 4.” he looked displeased. extremely.

saiki looked lost. “hm, i wonder where i made the error. do you mind explaning it to me then?” he asks tsukki.

his face darkened. “i do mind,,” and saiki just smiled awkwardly.

“y/n, it’s been a couple weeks. i’ll teach myself and i’ll get back to you later. is that fine with you?” saiki offered, returning his desk to the original position.

“yeah, thank you.” you grinned. you turned to your left again and saw tsukishima basically frowning.

why is he so rude today? what’s going on? is he okay? your head fills with random thoughts as you worry about him. 

the lesson seemed to go for hours and the heavy atmosphere between the two of you grew and it was excruciating. when you were finally dismissed, you had to stay back to clean the classroom. but you didn’t expect tsukki and yamaguchi to stay back too, considering they have club activities.

“hey yamaguchi, don’t you guys have club activities?” 

“yeah, we do but tsukki is on class duty. i’m about to leave soon.” he said sheepishly, grabbing his bag. 

so coincidentally you were on class duty with tsukishima. out of all days, you sighed heavily. 

you two were left in the class and he didn’t hesitate to start moving the desks. but you stood still, and stared at him. he was so pretty. 

heat rose to your cheeks as you recollected your thoughts and started packing up. it was an awkward silence as you two tidied the room. you were in the middle of wiping the board when he suddenly said, “open your textbook.” 

you were taken back. “what?” 

“you heard me.” he said bluntly. “open your textbook.”

“but why?” you stuttered a little bit.

“do you want me to teach you or not?” 

your face flushed. teach you? your mind blanked. “hnnn...” you couldn’t form coherent sentences “yes.. please.” 

he began to tutor you the study material. tsukki was obviously frustrated trying to teach you. it was like teaching a cat how to do dog tricks after all. you scratched your head at one question, still not getting it. 

you pursed your lips. it’s been 10 minutes and you’re not past the first half of the question. tsukki groans. “what you do is..” he explained it perfectly. but it went straight through your ears. you were too busy staring at his features, he was so close to you. 

this was the first time you realised how hard you fell for him, and tears pricked your eyes as your cheeks began to turn red. holy shit. i really like him. but chances are, i’m just a nobody to him. 

“y/n. are you even paying attention? this is why i didn’t wanna teach you.” he pinched his nose in stress. your heart sank. you didn’t want to inconvenience him any further.

“we can stop now, it’s getting late and you still have club activities right? i can buy you snacks tomorrow. thank you tsukishima.” you said with a sheepish smile. 

he furrowed his eyebrows. you just used his real name and not his nickname. he just found it odd how you wanted to stop so soon. you started packing up your things.

“it’s not even past 5. you need to learn this chapter.” he said abruptly. 

you stood up and grabbed your bag. “no, no seriously, it’s okay. i’ll just study tomorrow and-”

he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down. “and let you talk to saiki? no thanks.”

you were speechless once again, face red once more. “only i can teach you. understand?” he looks at you right in the eyes and all you wanted to do in that moment was to disappear. reluctantly, you nod. 

‎ ‏ ‐ ‑ ‒ – — ―

you can clearly tell my language is eu/au LMFAOO its the ‘surely’ for me GUYS COMMENT PLS ! I NEED INTERACTIONS 

[whumpcollector]

Project CHIMERA Pt.1: A New Age

Hey everyone. I’ve had this little project stewing for a long while. I’m experimenting with the writing style and such so please give me any feedback you have! (Also formatting this thing has been a nightmare so if anything comes off as difficult to read please lmk and ill fix it)

TW: Dehumanization. Themes of imperialism. Descriptions of blood and injury.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Dr. Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 1

Date: Celendor 3, 991

It is a glorious day. Truly it is. Today marks the beginning of project CHIMERA. I have been assigned to lead this project by Emperor Vystlat himself, an honor I intend to prove myself worthy of. The equipment is still being set up and the facility brought to full function, but within the week we will be able to begin the production of the first batch of clones. All going well we will have our first subjects by the end of Celendor.This will be a new age for the empire.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 4

Date: Celendor 12, 991

The first batch of clones are growing better than anticipated. Within two days they have already passed the embryonic stages and have reached infancy. If this rate continues they will be juveniles within three days at most, and we will be able to begin the initial stages of CHIMERA ahead of schedule. This is better than I ever could have hoped for. Soon the need for the empire’s children to die in order to spread our prosperity will be gone. Soon, the glory of the empire will go uncontested.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------           

                                   ---Security Clearance Level: 5---

Official Report of Progress: Project CHIMERA

Date: Celendor 12, 991

My glorious Emperor Vystalt,I am more than pleased to report that project CHIMERA’s progress has been greater than I ever anticipated. The first batch of clones have reached the juvenile stage and are being awoken as I write this report. After a day of acclimation we will be able to begin their training. Initial physiological tests have revealed that cell growth rates and immune system responses are greatly enhanced compared to the average human’s. With further research we may be able to adapt these properties to other medical fields. While I do not wish to get ahead of myself, the prospective avenues of research are truly promising.

I shall personally inform you of any and all major developments.

May our glory shine upon the world,

-Dr.Archimedes Yarru

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 6

Date: Celendor 13, 991

It appears that our genetic manipulation has worked a bit...too well. These clones are not the blank slates that we had anticipated, but have managed to develop personalities during their time in incubation. The good news is that the information we imprinted them with during the incubation phase has stuck as well. We won’t need to teach them the basics. In theory their training can continue as normal, but some issues have reared their ugly heads. We are already receiving resistance to the idea of training from some of the subjects, and an alarming amount of them have developed dispositions that aren’t exactly compatible with being a soldier. Still, this is a minor setback at most and I have been assured by the training staff that things will progress as intended. I hope they know what they’re doing, but the emperor chose them personally so they must be good at their job.

Despite this hiccup I can’t help but be hopeful for the future. Every other aspect of CHIMERA has gone off without a hitch. I’m already seeing promising results from my initial tests of the clone’s blood and muscle cells. I will have to study them closer to get better results, but that will come in time.

Damn it's been 22 hours since I last slept. I should probably do that now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celendor-15-991

To: allstaff

Subject: Plans going forward and clarification of CHIMERA details

It has come to my attention that there has been some confusion throughout the staff, both due to the unforeseen personalities of the clones and with general project protocol. Allow me to rectify these issues here.

[1] The classification of all subjects are as follows. Please remember this to avoid any failures of communication in the future.

Stage gamma: Subjects in the initial stages of testing. They will physically resemble adolescents, generally ages 12-15.

Stage beta: Subjects that are through initial training stages and have been curated into specified roles to receive specialized training. They will also reach physical maturity, resembling 20-22 year olds before their biological development and aging slows.

Stage alpha: Subjects that have finished training and are capable of being sent into the field.

Note: The ages attached to each stage are to provide a reference point to help identify subjects at a glance. Subject’s early rapid aging and the subsequent cessation of said aging makes any attempts at estimating age past a certain point futile. Please refrain from doing so

Addendum: This also means that there will be no attempts at assigning or recognizing birthdays. Yes Arthur, we mean you. Sate your addiction to cake on your own time

[2] Despite the unintended development of personality within subjects all current training protocols and methods will be utilized. The head of the training staff has asked that I pass along this message 

    *[While I understand that these new developments may be difficult to handle for some of you, it is imperative to remember that these clones are not people. They are more akin to automatons or even puppets. There will likely be many attempts to resist our training, do not waver. These clones are meant to be the bulwark of the empire. They need to be forged and tempered into weapons of war. If that requires us to break them first we must accept that. Use a heavy hand, accept not disobedience, and do whatever it takes to ensure the compliance of the clones.

                                                                                            Taskmaster Grestin]

[3] Remember that project CHIMERA is still in experimental phases. The genetic makeup, physiology, and even mental development and reception to training will vary from batch to batch and even subject to subject. Adapting to such differences will be crucial to ensuring progress of the project. If you happen to notice any abnormal physiological phenomena or behavioral anomalies please report to me. While these subjects are meant to be made into soldiers for the empire they also provide a plethora of opportunities for other fields of research. Within that vein, please refrain from killing the subjects. I understand that taskmaster Grestin’s previous statement emphasizes the importance of discipline but please, do show some restraint when possible. Creating these subjects is currently an expensive and, quite frankly, unreliable process despite our initial success. There is a reason this first batch only consists of 10 subjects. Please do not lower that number.  

                                                                                        -Dr. Archimedes Yarru

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 9

Date: Celendor 19, 991

Well Grestin has definitely earned the title taskmaster. I get that any training intended to produce super soldiers is going to be intense but, damn. I’m almost worried that she’ll kill the subjects long before they get into stage beta. Hopefully I’m just being overly anxious. I trust that Grestin won’t push them too harshly too quickly.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Medical Report: Subject Gamma-A-8

Date of Admission: Celendor-20-991

Subject Gamma-A-8 was submitted to the facility infirmary at 8:26 AM on the 20th of month Celendor, year 991 by staff member Jules Armidin. Subject Gamma-A-8 was admitted due to severe injury and physical exhaustion. A complete list of afflictions has been attached to the report.

After initial treatments Subject Gamma-A-8 has been stabilized and is currently recovering. It is estimated the subject will be fully recovered within 10-14 days with no long term injuries or afflictions.

Attached - Trauma_Report_GAMMMAA8   

[ Subject Gamma-A-8

Muscle tearing located in the left and right biceps, triceps, and pectorals

Hairline fractures located in the left ulna, left and right radius, and sternum

Compound fracture located at the tibia

Eye spasms indicative of long term sleep deprivation Mild concussion

General bruising located across the arms, legs, and abdomen

Lacerations across the back                                                       ]

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 10

Date: Celendor 20, 991

At least the subject didn’t die. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr Yarru’s Personal Log.

Entry 11

Date: Celendor 21, 991

Well if anything at least I have been able to study how the subject’s body responds to physiological trauma. The results are nothing short of remarkable. Almost all of the major injuries have been healed to the point of not impairing the body's functions, including bone fractures. I was as shocked as the doctors when a compound fracture seemingly mended itself overnight. It hasn’t fully healed, but the subject is capable of moving the leg to a degree, which is still nothing short of amazing. Accelerated Healing was something that was coded into their base genetics but this is more than what we could have ever expected.

I wonder if this trait is shared by all subjects or if Gamma-A-8 is a special case. Perhaps Grestin’s methods will prove fruitful in more ways than one.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 14

Date: Celendor 28, 991

It has been less than one month since the beginning of project CHIMERA and the results are already beyond my wildest dreams. Despite my initial reservations almost every subject has taken to the training regimen, no doubt due to Grestin’s expertise.

Note to self: Don’t piss her off

Subject Gamma-A-8 has had a difficult time keeping up with the other subjects. Despite the subject’s remarkable natural healing it seems unable to match the raw strength and speed the other subjects possess. I am hopeful that it will be able to catch up, or at least be able to function adequately in whatever role it is assigned. If not, well, 90% success rate is still more than acceptable given the circumstances.

I feel as if I have gathered as much data as I can working on the peripheries. Blood samples and medical reports are all well and good but they can only get me so far. I haven’t had a chance to interact with any of the subjects thus far. I think it's about time that I change that.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags: @haro-whumps @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

[ravenclaw-questions-gone-writing]

Ven Rambles: Abandoned Lore 1

@fanfics-and-fangirling  The lore is long and kinda complicated. I’m sorry, you were probably expecting like a paragraph or 3. I basically wrote an essay on it.

Ok, so I mentioned how it’s a three way interconnected universe and a crossover. The fandoms you need to know are Miraculous Ladybug, Batman (DC), Marvel, and the CLAMP-verses, most specifically Cardcaptor Sakura and possibly XXXHolic which is in the same multi-verse so I’m counting it as one.

Some ten thousands of years ago, several world/dimension traveling magic users - the leading members of which were Clow Reed, the most powerful sorcerer in the multiverse and Ichihara Yuuko, literally known as the space-time witch, and a Loki from an older, alternate dimension - decided to make things easier for others to travel through dimensions while simultaneously creating a safe haven for their kind since there are some worlds where magic users are hunted, either for slavery or death.

They started with connecting universes in 3s, moved onto 7s, and then 9s before creating even more complex varieties of interconnecting field spells. That’s not particularly important because the universes we’re interested is one of the earliest, imperfect versions. I should have but did not make a name for what these interconnected universes are called.

The universes are set in an equilateral triangle with the three universes as cornerstones, the shape that stabilizes the plane at the center - from henceforth will be called the central plane - that is essentially the magical version of an airport. It also has the affect of stabilizing time, so instead of 1 minute to 1 month ratio between the connected universes, it’s a minute to minute thing. And it’s linked to the passage of time on Earth because Midgard is the “center of the universe“ in Marvel-verse, Miraculous-verse doesn’t have aliens (as far as I know), and DC-verse is just outnumbered. Because it’s set in an equilateral triangle, it’s shape is very delicate and a shift or misplacement could cause the entire central plane to deteriorate and collapse.

Because the central plane is entirely made of magic, I imagine it looks something like a cross between a Wuxia world and classic fantasy land. You have magic plants and creatures growing out of random crevices and bizarre weather patterns that are a result of whatever plane guardian - Clow Card creatures, bc Clow Reed would absolutely do something like that and I don’t think the other two wouldn’t really object- is active and doing their job that day. But because of that, central planes is also a treasure trove of magical ingredients.

Over time, this particular one was abandoned in favor the newer, less delicate planes - with different universes as cornerstones - with have higher quality whatever ingredient is needed. The more powerful magic users move out. The remaining magic users 1. don’t know it’s possible to cross dimensions 2. do not have the power to 3. new magic users are brought in after the new planes were created and are sent there instead, completely skipping over introducing our central plane. At any rate, the number of magic users dwindles and at this point in time, only a handful of magic users remember it exists.

(Frick, why does Tumblr keep deleting paragraphs when I just want to delete a sentence. I have to retype all of that and I lost my train of thought. This is the fourth time already.)

By the time the story begins, the ones who know about it are the Al Ghuls, Frigga, the Loki that was born in this Marvel-verse who was introduced to it by his mother for his magic lessons, and anyone who stumbles across the random portals that have begun to appear because the Marvel cornerstone has been slightly shifted out of place by some cosmic event. (Marinette, who’d probably about 8 - 10 years old at this point in time.)

That shift caused the Marvel-verse to start pulling away, which in turn makes the other two cornerstones pull together in an attempt to maintain equilibrium.

Before we go further into that, a quick crash course in magical numerology. The first nine numbers are sacred, each one with a meaning attached to it. The ones we’re interested in for this story are 1, 2, and 3. 1 means unity. 2 means disorder. 3 means harmony.

I apologize for not being able to fully articulate this part but it makes sense in my head and I will do my best to make sense to everyone reading this.

As long as there are 3 cornerstones, the central plane will be stable due to the harmony factor. Problem is, as DC and MLB universes get closer, they begin to merge, made easier by the fact they’ve been bound together for so long. This makes the numbers drop from 3 to a fluctuation between 1 and 2.

Magic begins to separate them as 2+1= 3 rather than a full trinity of 1+1+1=3. Marvel-verse is totally fine (for now) but DCxMLB universes are experiencing some trippy things, news begins to filter between the worlds, abnormal weather patterns, memories merging and many more “ghostly interaction” experiences. For the most part, people can just dismiss it but the magically and spiritually inclined are having the worst time of their lives, especially those with foresight abilities.

The two universes haven’t really merged yet, probably won’t for another 5 years or so, but it’s close enough to be an inevitable event and that causes it to the math to go from 2+1=3 to 1+1=2, which as I have mentioned, destabilizes the central plane. It still exists, but it is now an EXTRA chaotic place, most of the sentient magical flora and fauna are going crazy and the guardian cards are in full panic mode which does affect a whole lot of things. The central plane eventually crumbles and anything inside it at the time vanishes into the in-between of universes, most likely never to be seen again. (Either they die from lack of anything they need to survive, miraculously find their way onto another plane, or descend into the literal hell that is where the most cursed and hated creations ever to exist were thrown into where they must adapt or die, probably die. Unless they have knowledge of the old way of moving between universes, in which case they’d be fine once they’ve re-oriented themselves.)

I hadn’t decided if Marvel-verse will detach completely and accelerate the merger between Maribat verse or if it rebounds and forces another merger which would also accelerate the merger in a different direction. I’d also like to mention that since Earth is where the worlds are linked, that is the place that is most affected, other parts of the universe are like “hey, budge over and make some room for me.“ because before that, it was probably just a void there and only the parts where there is some.

If this isn’t fully coherent, that’s because I was in the middle of world building before angst and crack took over and I had to scrap the idea.

[im-gettingby]

30 Days of Carry On

posted (and written by?) @captain-aralias

(I’m doing most of these at once because I said so. it’s long so under the cut)

1. Favourite major character

I literally thought — Simon no Baz no Penny no, Agatha!

I guess I will pick Simon, since I relate to him the most — or at least, my connection to him led me into the fandom.

2. Favourite minor character

I think we all know this one 🐑🐑🐑

I have written many a treatise on Lamb Rights. I’ll spare everyone now

3. Character you relate to the most

Oops— I already answered this, kinda. I relate to them in different ways: I relate a lot to WS Simon because he has abandonment issues and “kid who was told he was extraordinary and then grew up to be ordinary” issues. We also both have a “fix all the things for everyone” complex, too.

Baz — It took me a while to get into Baz’s head, but I would say, I relate to him because of his intense emotional world and tendency to see the world through an intensely romantic/tragic lens. But also he’s a Pisces. and I’d never do that like a Pisces does. (Sorry, not sorry.)

4. Which character would you like to go to lunch with?

SHEPARD obviously. I don’t feel the need to elaborate.

5. Favourite non-Snowbaz ship

Ooh! Probably Lamb/Baz or Simon/Shep or just...literally anything. Like, I will read anything as long as it’s well written. The weirder the better. (Within...legal and moral limits.) in my other fandoms I’ve been a big multishipper and there’s not a lot of options for that in CO - which is fine - but wholeheartedly support rarepairs :D

6. Favourite non-romantic OTP

So, obviously Simon/Penny and Baz/Penny are great ones, but I think the nearest & dearest to my heart is Simon/Agatha. The kind of siblings/unwillingly dating/weird exes dynamic and the way they both shaped each other’s lives is just so interesting. And while Simon & Penny are closer, Agatha and Simon represent their aspirational selves to one another. And the way that they were both tied to one another along with their gender roles/places in society and both broke away at the same time is just...mwah

7. Favourite Baz outfit

I honestly dress kinda like Baz. Anything involving a printed silk shirt or a floral brocade suit, so like, all of them? I love WS Baz, his fashion sense is so thoughtful yet fun. He’s so expressive with it — in the sense of both being guarded, being sexy, and playing with masculinity/femininity.

8. How do you feel about Wayward Son?

In case it wasn’t obvious, I absolutely love it. I mean, from a writing/narrative standpoint, I don’t think it’s the most elegant or engaging book ever written, but it’s just so raw and fresh. I don’t see many examples of an author trying to do what Rainbow did, which is build a complex emotional AND plot-driven story with so many characters and so much lore. I’m very excited for AWTWB.

9. Favourite scene from Carry On, besides Chapter 61

I like what the book does/sets up overall. Honestly probably the first scene, where Simon walks to the bus stop & takes the train and just thinks about his life and makes lists -- I love Simon. I know Rainbow said she thinks that bit is boring, but it honestly says so much about his character in a short time. (and he’s an extremely complex character!) Also, Baz’s dramatic entrance. Also, the chapter where Baz says “and I’m hopelessly in love with him” because it’s just so dramatic, and it comes out of nowhere

10. Favourite scene from Wayward Son, besides Chapter 41

Baz and Lamb’s journey across the Strip - vampire lore, jealous Simon, Baz getting to be his own character— it’s beautiful.

11. Remind us about something in canon readers might have forgotten about

Ahahaha um. Simon says he thinks Baz’s cousin Marcus is fit. That’s pretty funny.

12. What are your hopes and fears for Any Way the Wind Blows?

I don’t have any hopes because I don’t want to be disappointed - and that’s not a cynical thing, I just want to go into it with an open mind. (I’ll take a break from fandom and reread the books beforehand so I’m (more of) a blank slate) I guess just...interesting emotional journeys, whatever that ends up being. There’s a lot that Rainbow has to do in the book and I don’t think any one person could get through all of it -- that’s why we have fanfiction.

Fears? I don’t know. I think just...the series ending. Even though I’ve been in fandom for less than a year I just really love this fandom & the thought of that kind of eroding away is sad. But also I don’t think that will happen immediately, and change is a part of life. I’ve never related as much to Cath as I do now :’)

13. An unpopular/cracky opinion you hold

unpopular: Lamb is the best character; I don’t want Simon to get his magic back; both Simon and Baz should have other romantic options.

14. Something from your head fanon

Hmmmmmmm well. Just mean things about Baz really. Like that he’s weird looking, not that great at football, and actually has kind of garish fashion sense. (which is a self-roast as well - see above.) I just feel like Simon/fandom put him on a pedestal, and Simon’s an unreliable narrator re: Baz anyway. So I like the idea that Baz is this average looking kinda strange nerdy guy who is everything Simon has ever wanted in life.

And before you tell me that Baz was hot at Watford and Agatha was into him, have you ever been to a tiny boarding school? Standards get weird 😂😂😂 and Terry being into him — come on. The guy’s a violent pervert.

also - back to Watford being a tiny school. Baz doesn’t have much competition to be the star of the football team. (also, does anyone except Simon even think that he is?)

16. Favourite location other than Watford

Vegas!

17, Favourite location in Watford

I’m pretty bad at Watford lore/geography bc again, I’m way more into WS. Probably the floor in the Cloisters where everything happens the same way, just a day later. There’s a fic there, but I can’t wrap my head around all the time travel implications enough to write it.

18. What would be your favourite subject at Watford?

Any potions-esque subject because I loved chemistry lab. Latin because I loved Latin in school. Uhhhh I don’t like history class, so not that — maybe a literature course focused on the derivation of spells.

19. What would your magical implement be?

Ooh! This is a good one. I’d like to think it would be a weird body piercing. Or a belt a la Gareth. Maybe some kind of traditional south Asian jewelry, like a nose chain or mang-tikka or something. maybe a hat. like, imagine your magical instrument being a fedora and you just have to...wear a fedora all the time.

21. Favourite canon spell

Hm. Kiss it better? Candle in the wind?I should try to think of a non-horny one. honestly they’re all so cool and clever - I love the magic system in CO/WS.

22. What would your eighth year spell at Watford be or do?

Maybe something from a poem I love. That would probably be pretty but not very functional. Or a healing spell.

23. Who would you want as your roommate?

Agatha is uptight, Penny is passive aggressive, Simon is a slob, Baz is both uptight and passive aggressive.

Definitely Shepard.

24. Favourite item of merchandise, official or unofficial

My @subparselkie sticker

25. Favourite book cover design

WS. Oh, another unpopular opinion - I don’t like the kevin wada cover of carry on. their faces look so weird and the colors don’t work for me. I own the version with the blue and yellow cover art instead

26. Do you want a movie? If yes - any fan casts for the movie?

Probably wouldn’t want a movie! Because I am way too possessive of these books/this version of the story. And I am historically extremely disappointed by adaptations — I get upset with the smallest of changes 😂

27. If they made a movie, what scenes do you think they’d cut that you’d be furious were missing?

See above. A LOT haha

28. If you could ask Rainbow Rowell one question, what would it be? (If you have already, you can share if you like)

What is Lamb’s full name????? Is it actually Lamb Lambert Lamborghini the third???

What is Rainbow’s relationship with sheep and goats. Why are there so many references to them

29. Have you read any of Rainbow’s other books?

Only Fangirl

30. How did you get into Carry On and/or Carry On fandom?

I read fangirl & the pages at the end mentioned carry on, so I read that, and enjoyed it but I wasn’t obsessed. Then I read WS spring 2020, reread it a bunch of times, reread CO, freaked out about the cliffhanger/cool vampire stuff/unresolved sexual tension, had pandemic cabin fever, got on AO3, and the rest is history.

As @annabellelux knows, I wrote my first (published) fanfic after reading her amazing fic Drop The Game. and the first fanfic I read was @captain-aralias’ Greener Grass. I was so obsessed that about a month later, I searched through the AO3 tags for it, because I couldn’t remember the title or author but kept thinking about it.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] Also on AO3

Chapter 20: Jon Prime

Jon had been worried, before they had come back in time, about how well he would adjust to being in the past, pre-Apocalypse. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle the lessened level of terror, or the need to eat and sleep completely again, or being, essentially, less than he’d been, or for that matter the urge to storm the Institute and throttle Jonah Magnus in his office. He’d fretted about a lot of things.

As it turned out, none of them were things he needed to fret about.

His body reacclimated to human needs quickly enough, and it actually felt kind of good to feel the rumble of hunger or the drag of exhaustion again. It was definitely good to get back to cooking, which he’d sorely missed doing even if it felt odd to be cooking for more than himself and Martin. Martin had been right about his statement fueling Jon for a while, and his younger counterpart had taken to bringing home any real statements he came across; it was enough. And with Martin there, he didn’t feel less.

As for storming the Institute, that urge had been surprisingly easy to resist. Tim had managed to convince them to stay at his house longer by asking them to keep an eye on Past Martin while he healed. His excuse had been that Jon knew what Past Martin was going through and Martin knew what his past self was like, so they could keep him from doing anything stupid. Jon guessed there was more to it than that, but he didn’t want to pry into anyone’s minds, so he just let it go and agreed. It seemed simpler.

Martin had adapted well, too. Granted, he’d still been human—as far as Jon knew—before they came back, and he’d had two weeks to adjust to being blind before they were reunited, but he’d picked up on the cane Tim bought him fairly quickly. He didn’t seem to need it around the house, though, and when Jon questioned him about that, Martin said that he had a pretty good sense of direction when the world makes sense, Jon. And, honestly, Jon couldn’t argue with that. Tim spent a Sunday afternoon reorganizing his cupboards, then showed Martin where everything was so he could feel more independent in the kitchen while Jon watched from the doorway with a grin.

Past Martin got stronger by the day. At first, he mostly slept, which was fine with Jon, since it meant he could spend time with Martin and not feel guilty. He’d accidentally fallen asleep with his head on Martin’s lap one afternoon and woken to soft laughter, which is how he found out that Past Martin and Past Jon had apparently discussed things and Sasha was the only member of what Tim insisted on referring to as Team Archives who didn’t know they were together. After that, they’d dropped the pretense and just been themselves. It had been a huge relief to Jon. It had also been a relief—and a surprise—that Tim didn’t tease them mercilessly, but when he mentioned that to Martin, Martin just laughed and shook his head.

They’d all fallen into an easy domesticity. It was honestly the most surreal thing Jon had experienced in probably his entire life. Sasha and Past Jon were still staying with Tim—Jon had no idea what argument Tim had used on them, but it seemed to be working—and Jon delighted in watching the three of them, together with Past Martin, draw closer together into a cohesive unit that would be harder for Jonah to manipulate. Often, he would come out of the spare room from recording a statement, tape recorder in hand, to find them sharing stories or playing games and laughing. Some nights he joined in on the games, too, but mostly he just sat back with Martin and watched, grinning.

There were arguments. Of course there were arguments. They were all human beings with their own personalities and quirks. Nothing was going to be perfect harmony. Thankfully, they were usually made up fairly quickly. It felt like home, in a way, something Jon hadn’t experienced in he didn’t know how long. He knew it couldn’t last, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Several weeks passed like that. Jon could see the signs that Past Martin was getting restless and impatient to be back at work—he listened hungrily to the team’s tales of what they’d been up to, ventured tentative suggestions on avenues of research or possible connections they might have missed—but he was, ultimately, a far better patient than Jon had been. Not that that was difficult.

As Past Martin’s recovery progressed, the three of them began taking walks in the afternoon, Jon letting the two Martins go ahead of him and following just behind. Partly it was that there really wasn’t room for them to walk three abreast, but mostly it was him giving them the opportunity to see what they were capable of on their own while he watched their backs, literally. At first they were slow circuits of a single block, and then Past Martin needed to sit down for quite a while, but within a couple of weeks he was walking easily and seemed almost back to normal. The scars healed better than they had for Jon, partly because Martin’s skin was fairer than Jon’s but mostly because Past Martin was better about both following doctor’s orders and not picking at the healing wounds. Tim’s had healed about the same, Jon remembered, a thought which still sent a lance of melancholy through him. And finally, the day came when he returned triumphantly from a check-up with the news that he’d been cleared to return to work that Monday.

“We’ll be glad to have you back,” Past Jon said sincerely, actually smiling in a way Jon couldn’t remember smiling until the too-brief time he and Martin had had in Scotland. “It’s all kind of…I won’t lie, it’s odd to sit around and keep working like nothing has changed. Like we don’t know what’s going on. But we’ve managed. There’s a lot more than can be easily done with three, though.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Past Martin promised. “God, it’ll feel good to get back into things.”

“Kind of surprised you didn’t try to get us to let you come back earlier, actually,” Tim teased him. “Don’t think none of us saw you chomping at the bit.”

Past Martin gestured to Jon and Martin. “They wouldn’t let me bring it up.”

“How long did you wait before going back?” Past Jon asked.

Jon grimaced. “A month. I should have stayed out longer, to be honest, and I ended up needing substantial physical therapy. But I was already obsessing over who killed Gertrude Robinson, and I didn’t handle being alone with my thoughts very well. Tim was out longer.”

“How long?” Tim asked curiously.

“Eight weeks, give or take.”

“So we can be away from the Institute? I thought you said…” Tim trailed off.

Jon paused, knife suspended over the cutting board. “I—I never thought of that. God, how did I not think of that? Our Tim seemed fine when he first came back, and he never said anything, but…”

“You can be away from the Institute, just not for good,” Martin said. “When you’re out…convalescing, that’s one thing. Even if you’re on an extended vacation, that should be okay. It’s if you try to leave, if you just up and walk away with the idea that you won’t be back, that you’ll have problems. As long as you really intend to come back at some point, it’s fine.”

Jon turned around and stared at Martin. “How long have you known that?”

“Since Elias told us we were trapped there?”

“My God, that was…” Jon rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Why didn’t you say anything? And please don’t say ‘it never really came up.’”

Martin actually smiled at that. “Honestly, Jon, I assumed you knew. I mean, you were away for ages, and I know Basira kept going off on…excursions. She might not have been gone long, but I just…I thought you’d figured it out. Especially when nothing really happened to us in Scotland.”

Jon hadn’t thought about that, either. But yes, at the time they had meant to go back to the Institute eventually, hadn’t they? Or maybe the Eye had let them go because it knew what Jonah was plotting. Either way, Martin was right, he really ought to have figured that out sooner.

He sighed, turning back to his meal prep. “I can, as we have established, be a bit oblivious at times.”

Sasha gave an overly-dramatic gasp. “You? Never.”

“Oh, shut up,” Past Jon grumbled.

Tim snickered. “Hey, does that mean you two have to come back to the Institute, too?”

“That’s…more complicated.” Jon scraped the contents of the cutting board into the pot. “I’m bound closely enough to the Eye that I’m not…dependent on the Institute, I don’t think? As long as I’m taking statements, feeding the Eye, I’m fine. I believe. And Martin is cut off from the Eye entirely. But it’s a rather moot point, as we intend to move into the tunnels beneath the Institute anyway.”

“You can’t seriously be planning to do that,” Tim protested. “Come on, they can’t be comfortable��”

“They aren’t. But that’s not the point, Tim.” Jon sighed and reached for the spices he’d selected. “We are putting you in very real danger by being here. Besides, we’re not in a position to assist like we would be if we were closer to the Institute. I don’t particularly like them, but it’s the best option for everyone.”

Tim reached past Jon to get plates out of the cupboard, his expression mulish. Jon braced himself for whatever arguments Tim might throw his way and resolutely shut his mind against prying for it, but before he could say anything, Past Martin came up and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“You can’t fix everything, Tim,” he said quietly. “And I know that’s rich, coming from me, but…we have to trust them. It’s not like we won’t ever see them again if they’re not living under your roof.”

Tim’s shoulders slumped. Jon caught his eye and offered him a smile. “It’s certainly no reflection on you, Tim. It’s just…we need to do this. I desperately need you to trust us.”

“I can give you that.” Tim managed a smile in reply, then turned to set the table. “You’re not planning to move in tonight, though, right?”

Jon was about to answer, then froze as a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. It was low and gentle, but the sound sent a shudder of horror running down his spine that he couldn’t explain. He had to stand, perfectly still, until the sound stopped.

“No,” he said as soon as he felt able. “Not tonight.”

He went back to what he was doing, or tried to, but there was obviously a storm building, and the next peal of thunder brought his breath up short. The spoon slipped out of his hand and into the pot.

“Are you okay?” Sasha’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

“Fine,” Jon lied automatically. Really, this was ridiculous. There was no reason for this. Thunderstorms had never bothered him before; why were they suddenly an issue now? He retrieved the spoon and returned to cooking.

The others shifted the discussion to the logistics of smuggling Jon and Martin into the Institute and the tunnels beneath them without being spotted. Since Martin was already explaining about the other entrances, Jon didn’t feel the need to jump in. They would still need to figure out which entrance to use, or find one in the first place, and how to get there surreptitiously, but at least there were options beyond “hope to avoid the cameras mounted around the Institute when sneaking into the Archives and subsequently into the tunnels”. That would be the fastest way to tip Jonah off that something was going on.

Another roll of thunder sounded from almost directly overhead—not a sharp crack, but a long, rumbling bass growl. Jon felt it to his core, and he gasped, leaning over to catch himself against the counter. Suddenly he was in the spare room in the cabin in Scotland, the words being torn from his throat against his will: I…OPEN…THE DOOR!

“Whoa!” someone shouted.

“Shit, that’s—how is he—” someone else stammered.

“Get his hand off the burner!”

“Jon! Jon, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here.”

Something brushed against him, and he jerked away, but then a hand wrapped around his arm and tugged him away from the counter, and then someone was wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. There was a confused babble of voices around him, but Jon couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t focus on anything but the thunder and the static filling his mind and the fact that for some reason his hand hurt, why did his hand hurt…

“Jon,” the voice said again in his ear, and it was Martin’s voice, he sounded upset, he sounded scared, and Jon couldn’t let him be scared but didn’t know how to fix it, so he looked up desperately and saw Martin’s face close to his. “Come on, let’s go in the other room, it’s okay. Come on, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Jon couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. He just let Martin lead him out of the room they were in and into another, keeping his eyes fixed on Martin the whole time, and then they were sitting on something and Martin pulled Jon into his arms, onto his lap, and wrapped him up securely. One hand came up to cup the back of his head, the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m here, Jon,” Martin murmured, his voice low and gentle despite crackling with emotion. “You’re here. We’re both here and we’re safe. We’re in London. The world isn’t ending, Jon. You didn’t end the world. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

How, the small part of Jon that wasn’t numb with terror thought, did Martin always seem to know the right thing to say? It was a ridiculous thought, of course; Martin didn’t always know the right thing to say, any more than Jon did, and they’d had more than a few arguments over one of them saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But when it was a situation like this, when Jon panicked or got lost in his own head or was hurting, Martin always seemed to come up with the right words. Jon fisted his hands into Martin’s shirt and buried his face in his chest, focusing on the heartbeat that always soothed him when things got too bad. One of his hands, in a distant way, hurt, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

Of course the world wasn’t ending. It couldn’t be. How could the world end with Martin there? That was just ridiculous. If the world ended, he’d be all alone.

“You’re not alone, Jon,” Martin said, and shit, had he said that out loud? “I’m here. I will always be here. I won’t ever leave you. I promise. I’m here. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Jon whispered. The words felt raw in his throat, but it felt good to say them. He whispered them again and again, and Martin whispered them back to him. They passed the words back and forth, you’re here, I’m here, you’re here, and slowly, slowly, Jon felt the terror recede.

The storm didn’t lessen. If anything, it got worse, but oddly, that helped, too. The sharper the thunder got, the calmer Jon grew. A mighty thunderclap rattled the windows, and the power went out, making someone yelp from the other room, but Jon was able to take his first full breath. He slowly eased his grip on Martin’s shirt and sagged against him with a heavy sigh.

“Better?” Martin asked, rubbing his back.

“A little.” Jon tilted his head back and rested his chin on Martin’s chest, looking up at him. There was only the barest amount of light in the room, but it was enough to see the outline of his boyfriend’s face by. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Martin pressed a light kiss to Jon’s forehead. “How’s your hand?”

“Hmm?” Jon became aware that his hand still hurt a lot. He eased it away from Martin and stared at it. It was red, almost raw, and he could see a couple of blisters on the palm that had miraculously remained intact, despite the grip he’d had on Martin’s shirt. “Oh. I—did I put it on the stove?”

“Apparently. Let me see.”

Jon managed a smile. He turned his hand over, palm up, and laid it in Martin’s. Martin hovered his thumb just over the top of Jon’s palm. “It’s still warm. Hold on, let me go find out what Tim’s got in that medicine cabinet of his.”

“Plenty,” a voice said from the doorway. Jon started, then relaxed when he realized it was his own voice, and that was still weird to hear. He looked up to see Past Jon coming in, a torch in one hand and a small handful of supplies in the other. “I was going to just leave it on the table for you, but…”

“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely. He didn’t leave the comfort of Martin’s embrace, though. The panic had left him a bit shaky and he wasn’t sure he could really sit up on his own, but more than that, he honestly didn’t give a damn if it made him look weak to lean on Martin. That was part of what love was, right?

Past Jon set the things in his hands on the table, then lined them up. “Cool compress, lotion, gauze, bandages. Paracetamol on the end if you need it for the pain. I—do you need a spare hand?”

“We’ve got it, but thank you,” Martin said. He picked up the compress, then pressed it gently to Jon’s hand. It was obvious he’d done this before, in some capacity.

Past Jon nodded and straightened, then hesitated before leaving the room. Awkwardly, he asked, “Can I…are you sure you’re okay? That looked a lot like, well, a panic attack.”

“It was,” Jon said softly. He hesitated, looking up into Martin’s eyes. Even though he knew Martin wasn’t really looking back at him per se, that he couldn’t actually see him, he could feel his attention, and they’d learned in the last few weeks that they knew each other well enough that they could still communicate wordlessly, to an extent. Turning back to his past self, he explained, “It was—the last thunderstorm I remember came up while I was reading…Jonah’s monologue.”

Past Jon flinched. “Ah. Well, I’ll, erm…I’ll leave you to that, then.” He gestured at the supplies and retreated back to the kitchen.

Jon and Martin sat in silence for a long moment. Martin kept applying pressure to the compress on Jon’s hand, his other hand securely supporting it, keeping it elevated. At last, Jon said, “I—I never asked if it was actually storming. That day. If it was…real thunder I heard or if it was just…the impending end of the world.”

“It was. I was on my way back. At first I thought I’d grab an umbrella, but then I thought…I thought I’d just stay downstairs until you finished your statement, then bring you a cup of tea or something. And then…” Martin trailed off and shook his head.

Jon bit his lip. “At least you made it back before…the Door Opened.”

“No, Jon,” Martin said softly. “I didn’t. I was still a good five minutes’ walk from the safe house when it happened.” He tried to laugh. “Ordinarily, anyway. I ran, as soon as I realized…I don’t know that I realized what exactly was going on, but I knew it was bad, and I knew that it was probably coming after you.”

“My God, Martin.” Horror ran through Jon’s body, and he reached out with his free hand to grip Martin’s shirt again.

“Hey, careful, I need room to work.”

“You were outside when—you c-could have been killed. God, I could have lost you and—”

“But you didn’t,” Martin reminded him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Jon’s for a moment. “I’m here, Jon. You’re here. We’re both here. We survived the end of the world. We made it. Together.”

Jon took a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe one day it won’t be so hard to remember that.”

“Well, I’ll always be here to remind you.” Martin straightened up and lifted the compress, then checked the heat of his palm and set the compress aside.

Jon glanced at the next item on the table and grimaced. “Of course the next step is lotion.”

“Do you want to do it yourself?” Martin asked. “You’ve got to keep things from drying out, but…I understand if someone else rubbing it in might be a bit much.”

At least that was something Jon had known he had an issue with before. Just not something he’d thought he would ever have to think about. He started to say yes, then shook his head, despite knowing Martin couldn’t see him. “No. No, will—will you do it? Please? I trust you.”

Martin’s face softened. They both knew what Jon was asking for. “Of course, Jon.”

He poured a little bit of the lotion into Jon’s hand. Jon tried hard not to flinch at the feel of it pooling into his cupped palm. Martin replaced the cap and set the bottle back on the table, nearly missing it, then took Jon’s hand and began gently massaging the lotion into it. Jon focused on Martin’s face and tried to regulate his breathing.

“Tell me something,” Martin requested abruptly.

Jon cocked his head, slightly off-balance. “What?”

“Anything. Your favorite play, your earliest childhood memory, your most embarrassing uni story. Anything.”

“O-oh, okay,” Jon said, surprised. He tried to think for a moment. “Ah—I’ve always been fond of The Duchess of Padua.”

Martin smiled encouragingly. “Yeah? I don’t know that one. Tell me about it.”

Jon launched into an explanation of the plot. The more into it he got, the more wildly he gesticulated with the hand Martin wasn’t attending to. Martin listened to Jon ramble the way he always did, with a smile and a look of genuine interest as Jon went on about a topic he knew nothing about and honestly didn’t care all that much about. He’d even told Jon, simultaneously not long ago and an eternity ago, that he’d always hated the theater, yet here he was letting Jon describe in technical detail the plot of a play he’d had no good reason to fall in love with.

“—staged very often, or studied for that matter, but I always thought it was fascinating,” he concluded with a sigh. “I actually rose a bit in a professor’s esteem because I used that one as the basis for our term paper on one of Wilde’s works rather than The Importance of Being Ernest or The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Best grade I ever got in school was on a paper I wrote on The Ballad of Reading Gaol.” Martin set something on the coffee table. “How’s that?”

“I—” Jon looked down at his hand. The lights were still out, but his eyes had adjusted, and he could see the stark white bandage looped neatly around his hand, securing the gauze without being too tight. “Oh. You’re done.” He gave his boyfriend a slightly accusing look. “You were distracting me.”

“You were panicking,” Martin told him. He wrapped both arms around Jon again. “I really was listening, though. I love listening to you talk about something you know a lot about. Or even something you’re just pretending you know a lot about.”

“Hey,” Jon protested, but without any real heat. He tucked his head into the crook of Martin’s neck and sighed, curling into him. “Thank you. For taking care of me. For knowing me so well. For being here.”

“Where else would I be?” Martin kissed the crown of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

How many times had they passed those words back and forth, Jon wondered? He could probably Know the exact number, with a little effort, but it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. They could say it with every breath they had left from now until the end of time, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Jon had made a vow, kneeling in the remains of what had once been his boss’s office and pressing futilely against the gaping wounds in Martin’s chest, that he would never leave an opportunity to say them unsaid. They didn’t need to say it for each other to know, but it was important to Jon that they did. And while Martin never said as much, Jon knew it reassured him to hear confirmation every once in a while.

They sat in silence for a while, Jon letting Martin’s presence and the secure feel of his embrace soothe away the last of his lingering terror, or at least his lingering immediate terror. The fear would never go away completely. He’d grown to accept that. But at least now it was just the usual hum of background terror that was his everyday life, rather than the sharp, immediate panic of a flashback. Here with Martin, he was as safe as he ever could be.

At last, he sighed. “We should probably go back into the other room before the others eat everything.”

“I’m sure they saved us some,” Martin said. “But sure. You’ll have to get up first.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sitting on my lap, Jon.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that.” Jon managed to get to his feet. Martin chuckled as he stood, too.

Tim had lit several candles and was apparently mid-debate with Sasha over whether or not he should add another one to the mix. Past Jon rolled his eyes in Jon and Martin’s direction when they came in. “Please make them shut up.”

“Impossible, I’m afraid. They’re both breathing,” Jon said dryly. Tim snorted and Sasha stuck her tongue out at him. “It smells good in here. Have you been baking?”

“Electric oven. Jon barely finished cooking dinner before the power went out. It’s the candles,” Tim admitted. “One of the kids in the neighborhood keeps selling them to raise money for school trips and the like, and I’m apparently one of his best customers.”

“Well, if you add any more, the smell might be overpowering. Or you might set off your smoke detector.”

“Point. Okay, then, sit down and eat. We saved you a couple plates.”

Jon didn’t have to look at Martin to see the I-told-you-so look on his face.

As they ate, Sasha slid a piece of paper towards him, covered in neat, still-unfamiliar handwriting that Jon presumed to be hers. “Can you think of anything on here we missed?”

The lighting wasn’t really adequate to read the paper clearly, and Jon was tired, despite Martin’s presence and support; the panic attack had drained him a bit more than he’d expected. He was going to need something stronger than a couple of old statements to recover,  but he had no idea how to go out and get it. It all combined to make him forget himself a little. He reached out with the Eye rather than his own eyes to skim the paper. Sleeping mats, camp stoved, tinned food (ANYTHING but peaches)…

“What’s all this?” he asked, picking it up to see a bit better.

“Supplies,” Past Jon said brusquely. “You didn’t think we’d make you stay in those tunnels without some way of being comfortable, did you?”

Actually, Jon hadn’t thought about it. He picked up the list and studied it more closely, with his actual vision this time. It seemed like a fairly comprehensive list. There were a few things on it that he recognized as bearing his boyfriend’s hallmark, unexpected items that nevertheless might, in certain circumstances, make a huge difference. He angled the paper towards Martin. “Anything you have to add?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s written in Braille, I don’t think I’m going to be of much use there.”

“Oh. Right.” Jon was thankful that the combination of his complexion and the low light in the room would probably hide his blush from anyone whose eyes still functioned.

Tim looked back and forth between the two Martins. “Wait, you know Braille?”

Past Martin ducked his head, looking mortified. Martin, however, simply nodded slowly. “Mum had one of those pill keepers, you know the ones. I taught myself Braille so I could know which pills to get ready for her without turning on the light before she was ready to be awake.”

The look on both Tim and Past Jon’s faces made Jon slightly glad, and also slightly disappointed, that Martin’s mother was dead. Then he remembered that she’d died while he was in his coma, so she was currently still alive in a nursing home in Devon refusing her son’s visits but accepting, even demanding, his money, and it was very difficult for him to swallow his own anger and uncharitable thoughts. He wasn’t a monster and couldn’t act like one, no matter how good his motives seemed.

Instead, he covered the moment by reading the list aloud to Martin. Martin listened and nodded and smiled when Jon hit the last item on the list. “I don’t think you need to worry about a tape recorder, honestly. They turn up on their own.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Tim said dryly. “But you said the tunnels blocked stuff at times. I figured, just in case…”

“Might be a comfort,” Past Martin suggested softly. It was the first thing he’d said since Jon and Martin had come into the kitchen.

“The tunnels don’t stop the recorders,” Jon said. “But…thank you. It’s thoughtful of you.”

Sasha nodded and took the list. “We’ll get everything together tomorrow, then, and you can find another entrance to the tunnels.”

“Will you be able to find the Archives?” Tim asked. “Through those tunnels, I mean? They’re a mess, honestly.”

“We’ll manage.” Jon actually wasn’t a hundred percent sure how easy it would be. He’d had a map made at one point, but that was after Leitner had manipulated things for him, and the tunnels were shielded from the Eye, somehow. He’d be lucky not to have to live with the ever-present…fuzziness he’d dealt with when they’d been staying with Georgie and Melanie and their inadvertent cult. But they really and truly didn’t have a choice.

“I suppose if we have to, we could put a—a beacon or something at the foot of the stairs under the trapdoor,” Past Jon said uncertainly.

Tim grinned. It looked slightly diabolical in the flickering candlelight. “Ooh, or one of those electronic gizmos they use in hunting to attract prey.”

“I’m very sure random deer calls would have the opposite effect than luring us to where you want us to go,” Martin said with a smirk. “Have you ever heard those things? They’re terrifying.”

The conversation devolved into a slightly silly discussion of the weirdest animal cries they’d ever heard, and Jon was able to breathe and eat his dinner without too much trouble.

That night, though, curled into bed with Martin, he said quietly, “What if it’s a bad idea? What if being down there…what if I fall apart again? What if it’s like at Salesa’s, but worse?”

“It won’t be,” Martin said. The confidence and assurance in his voice was almost a physical force.

“How can you know that, though?”

Martin ran a hand through Jon’s hair, gently untangling a knot that had probably got there during his panic attack in the living room. “Did you know that if you lose sight in one eye, you only lose something like twenty percent of your overall vision but all of your depth perception?”

“No?” Jon could have known that, if he’d wanted to, obviously, but it wasn’t something he’d ever consciously set out to learn. He also didn’t see how it was relevant.

“I mean, you can sort of train yourself to compensate for the depth perception, but yeah, twenty percent of your vision. Mostly peripheral. It makes it harder to see people coming from that side of things.” Martin’s fingers caught in another knot. “The Beholder really had two eyes overlooking the Apocalypse, Jon. Jonah and you. He saw from the heights and you saw from ground level. He oversaw, and you…experienced. I’d even go so far as to say you were the dominant eye, so to speak. Of course you were weak when you were cut off from it. It’s like a phantom pain. That won’t be an issue now. The Eye isn’t as…strong. You said yourself, you’re still…you, just not quite as…all-powerful?”

“Hopefully I’ve still got enough power to do what needs to be done,” Jon sighed, but Martin’s words were a comfort.

After a pause, Martin added, “And you have me.”

“And I have you,” Jon agreed. “And we can probably get fairly close to the Archives. All right, I know I’m probably worrying unnecessarily. It’s just…” He trailed off, tracing his fingers over the three puckered holes clustered just above Martin’s heart. Jonah had known what he was doing, far too well. “I can’t lose you again, Martin. I can’t. And I’ll never forgive myself if it happens because I wasn’t strong enough.”

Martin covered Jon’s hand with his own. “It won’t. You’re strong enough, Jon. I trust you. And you know I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

“I know.” Jon snuggled into Martin’s chest, then leaned up to kiss him. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

“I wouldn’t want to see you try.”

Jon yawned and adjusted the covers over the both of them. Martin rolled onto his side and buried his face in Jon’s hair, and Jon sighed with almost-forgotten contentment as he drifted off to sleep, Martin’s heartbeat thudding steadily in his ear.

[wanderchyld]

Final PBIO/IOTNBO analysis and theory

This post is my final analysis and includes some questions I have as we go into the final weekend of one of the best dramas in history. It is VERY long as I consolidate and expand on my previous analysis and theories.

I also lost a big chunk of this post while I was working on the draft just a few hours before posting, resulting to this post as a little inconsistent. Excuse me if my points are messy and some points missing with some issues untouched (because I forgot 😭). I think most points can be linked back to my past theories so you can read up on them if you haven’t.

List of my theories before ep 14:

Do Heejae and the other woman

Moonyoung’s background and Go Daehwan

Head Nurse is NOT Do Heejae, she’s the previous housekeeper

Maybe Head Nurse really is Do Heejae

As usual, please note that anything I quote may be a mix of Netflix’s subs and my translation because I know Korean and Netflix tends to miss nuances sometimes.

Firstly, Park Ok Ran’s dead.

Let’s get this out of the way first. (You can read my first theory on her role in this whole saga.)

“She can’t come anymore.”

Can’t have her exposing Park Haengja. Or plot twist: she is alive and returns to save the trio from the villain 😆

No one’s memory is reliable

Not Kangtae’s as established in ep 6 that he didn’t remember his mother brought them to eat jjamppong because he’s the one who liked it, not Sangtae.

Not Sangtae’s. In spite of his good memory, it was established in ep 10 that he didn’t remember Kangtae saving him, so his memories can be flawed as well.

Therefore, not Moonyoung’s, and definitely not Go Daehwan’s.

There are few things that we can be sure because they are concurrent:

There was a female body in the basement that was disposed or disappeared.

The murderer of Taetae Bros’ mother wore Moonyoung’s mother’s a one-of-a-kind brooch.

There was a body in the reservoir.

Taetae Bros’ mother was the new housekeeper (I saw that some people disagree but here are the supporting screenshots).

There were definitely two women

My theory that there were 2 women in Moonyoung’s family still stands and I’m expanding on it.

Let’s look at the family photos first. There are multiple versions of the family photo, and I suspect they were taken at different times. Here they are in what I think is the chronological order.

1) Photo in the basement: Go Daehwan had full-rimmed glasses, Moonyoung wore a scarf and stood closer to him with his hand on her shoulder, and the lady wore a fully black high neck top with the brooch on the right.

Before the family moved in, on the day Go Daehwan showed the lady around the house, he was wearing the full-rimmed glasses, and the house looked lived in (fully furnished, fully decorated, shelves full). 

2) Go Daehwan’s photo: Go Daehwan had half-rimmed glasses, Moonyoung stood right in the middle and without the scarf, and the lady wore a blazer over a straight neckline blouse with the brooch on the right.

3) Park Haengja’s photo seems to be the same as Moonyoung’s: Go Daehwan with half-rimmed glasses, can’t tell whether Moonyoung was wearing a scarf or not but she sat nearer to the lady who wore the same blazer over a straight neckline blouse without the brooch.

Go Daehwan had half-rimmed glasses when he realised his wife killed Taetae Bros’ mother.

Photos are evidences of relationships. In a group photo, the people who are closer would pose closer to each other. These family photos tell us that Go Daehwan and Moonyoung were actually close, and showed us the progression of Moonyoung’s relationship with the woman.

But why were multiple photos taken? If they were the same woman, why are they still hiding the woman’s face in the photos?

When Go Daehwan killed his wife, he said, “If I die, my daughter will become a monster like you.”

Why was it “my daughter” and not “our daughter?” It’s even odder for Koreans because being a very collectivist society, they don’t claim people or objects as mine. They say “our country,” “our father,” “our daughter” to show unity even when they actually mean “my country,” “my father,” “my daughter.”

Moonyoung insisted she’s an orphan. Technically, when one biological parent dies, the child is an orphan (single orphan). So perhaps Moonyoung’s not wrong. And as explored in my second theory post, she might have been referring to her biological mother. The abusive woman was probably her stepmother.

Go Daehwan told Director Oh that his wife loved Moonyoung “terribly. Very terribly,” and we have Moonyoung who doesn’t want a child to not get jealous over Kangtae’s affection. Judging by the family photos (Moonyoung posing closer to the woman each time), perhaps the stepmother was jealous of the father-daughter relationship and became obsessed with Moonyoung.

Would a child be afraid of their parent because they didn’t want to be hated? I was just afraid my mother would scold me (which was a lot). Right, we can argue that her mother was abusive, but this is something to think about.

Park Haengja: stepmother and crazy aunt

Bluebeard the French folklore, which ep 6 was based on, is about a man who married several times as he killed his disobedient wives. According to Wikipedia, his final wife had invited her sister and others over for a party before she snuck away to explore the forbidden room. Bluebeard found out and was about to kill her on the spot when her sister and brothers arrived to kill Bluebeard.

It was also in ep 6 when Taetae Bros moved in that they specifically had a shot of the dolls in Moonyoung’s old room (the brothers’ new room). I mentioned this previously: one male doll as Go Daehwan, two female dolls in similar dresses as Moonyoung’s mother and stepmother, and one small female doll.

You can see the two dolls behind little Moonyoung in her memory of her father reading her a book.

The dolls are a representation of the Go family in the house because in ep 7, only the small female doll (Moonyoung) was left, and I think there are 2 more new figurines as Taetae Bros on that cabinet but I can’t be bothered to search for a clearer shot 😁

When Go Daehwan strangled little Moonyoung, afraid she would become like her mother, they featured one of the dolls in the shot.

The point of mentioning the dolls is: Moonyoung’s mother wore a similar dress as the dolls in most of the flashbacks.

Ep 13 was based on the Korean folklore The Story of Janghwa and Hongryeon and its popular movie adaptation The Tale of Two Sisters (2003). IOTNBO has more links to this story than “the bystander is worse than the abuser.”

In the movie, Moon Geunyoung’s character frequently dressed in floral patterns (like the dolls’ and Moonyoung’s mother’s dresses).

In both the folklore and the movie, the sisters were named after rose and lotus flowers. In the folklore, it’s the sister that died who was named after the rose flower. In the movie, it’s the surviving sister that was named after the rose flower. The rose is also a motif of Moonyoung’s mother.

The flower language of rose is love and passion. Personally, considering how Moonyoung always thought of her mother when she brushed her hair, and her love for a head pat, I think the rose also symbolises her mother’s "affection."

The movie is a story of two sisters who were abused by their stepmother so badly that one of them died. As it turns out, the remaining sister developed dissociative identity disorder (DID; the same disorder as the patient Yoo Sunhae) with two other personalities: her dead sister (Moon Geunyoung’s character) and her stepmother.

I take this as a lead that Moonyoung has a stepmother, who also happens to be her aunt obsessed with her sister. Wicked Witch of the West (WWOTW) coveted Wicked Witch of the East’s (WWOTE) ruby shoes; perhaps the aunt wanted to be in her sister’s shoes, figuratively AND literally.

Now here’s another “coincidence” from the same:

Left: Moon Geunyoung. Right: Im Soojung (sister with DID).

The story Go Daehwan read to little Moonyoung mentioned a bad wizard that wasn’t invited to the birthday party so he went to the castle.

The story Go Daehwan read to little Moonyoung mentioned a bad wizard that wasn’t invited to the birthday party so he/she went to the castle to cause trouble. 

Glinda the Good Witch of the North described WWOTW as worse than WWOTE.

Go Daehwan, who had recognition and memory impairment, said his wife has an angelic face but a devil lives within. Perhaps he remembers two persons as one.

We learnt from Sangin that 1) Do Heejae came from a prestigious family of medical professionals, 2) she dropped out of 3rd year of med school, and 3) she cut ties with everyone in her family. Could she have a sister in nursing? Could she have cut ties with her family because they cray cray (or the good old "you’ll starve with a creative career")?

Park Haengja has not claimed herself as Do Heejae, and the woman in the family photos are still covered.

Following these, we can assume that Park Haengja’s the bad witch who is neither Do Heejae nor Moonyoung’s birth mother. She’s the stepmother and crazy aunt (I cover more about the sisters in the next section).

There’s always a crazy aunt or uncle.

It’s just too easy if Park Haengja really is Do Heejae. I’d also be disappointed in the writer if she takes this route because it’s cliché villain and this is not a makjang drama with illogical plot twists. It would also be a step back from all the efforts this show has been making to dispel stigma against mental illness.

So they were sisters and...

...one of them died. In water. 

As per my first theory, the WWOTW and WWOTE are sisters in some adaptations of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. WWOTE died under a house then disappeared into thin air, and WWOTW pretended to die in contact of water but she returned disguised as a good person. Sound familiar?

The Story of Janghwa and Hongryeon is a Korean folklore of a stepmother who abused two sisters to their death. She had her biological son push Janghwa the older sister into a pond and she drowned. The remaining sister couldn’t take the abuse any longer and drowned herself in the same pond.

The song “Oh My Darling Clementine” has a few variations but here’s the traditional lyrics (I removed repeated stanzas):

Oh my darling, oh my darling Oh my darling, Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine In a cavern, in a canyon Excavating for a mine Dwelt a miner, forty-niner And his daughter, Clementine Light she was and like a fairy And her shoes were number nine Herring boxes, without topses Sandals were for Clementine Drove she ducklings to the water Ev'ry morning just at nine Hit her foot against a splinter Fell into the foaming brine Oh my darling, oh my darling Oh my darling, Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine Ruby lips above the water Blowing bubbles, soft and fine But, alas, I was no swimmer So I lost my Clementine How I missed her! How I missed her How I missed my Clementine But I kissed her little sister I forgot my Clementine

These stories are all about 2 sisters and dying in water. Whether they’re sisters or not, a woman died and she’s related to Go Daehwan somehow.

The Murder of the Witch of the West

Do Heejae’s novel hold huge clues. Here’s my translation of an excerpt from volume 9 shown in ep 10.

… __’s scalp skinned with a hunting knife without hesitation. The corpse’s lips sewed in a fence stitch. The body dismembered with a hand axe and thrown into the trunk. Yooyoung persistently as she watched the back of the West Witch leave unhurriedly after finishing the killing and leaving notes.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Why do you choose to kill happy people only?"

But as usual, there was no answer. Was it because of Yooyoung’s tenacity to catch the West Witch? Yooyoung always sees the West Witch at the crime scenes. A faceless woman who always observed Yooyoung work hard on finding the criminal before leaving abruptly. Yooyoung began to look at the crime scene from the criminal's perspective. Why here? Why kill by stabbing this way? As she simulates the crime, Yooyoung finds herself assimilating with the criminal. She felt a thrill from imagining that she stabbed and cut the victim. She’s getting confused. Is she a detective or a murderer?

Around the same time, a murder occurred. The West Witch mimicked a passage from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, everything was in line with the Wicked Witch of the West, right down to the signature butterfly design. However, Yooyoung somehow felt guilty.

...

The suspect was a middle-aged woman in her 40s.

Yeah.

The misunderstanding

Othello killed his wife because he mistook his wife for committing adultery.

Romeo and Juliet mistook each other’s plan. Romeo died from drinking real poison, and Juliet faked her death before realising the mistake and killed herself with Romeo’s dagger.

Janghwa was framed and wrongfully accused by her stepmother for being unchaste. Her father believed it. When Janghwa ran away, her stepmother and stepbrother chased after her, and her stepbrother (under her stepmother’s instruction) pushed her into a pond to drown to her death.

What did Go Daehwan misunderstand? What misunderstanding did his recognition and memory impairment cause? Why was his wife being crazy but looked so shocked when he turned her around?

I do not believe that his memory of killing his wife is a complete memory because it has been mentioned multiple times that his memories are corrupted. I think it’s fragments of different memories pieced together.

What’s going on with Park Haengja?

There are a few possibilities.

Park Haengja is Do Heejae’s sister who coveted her sister’s position and grew obsessed with her sister’s novel.

Do Heejae’s Moonyoung’s biological mother and Park Haengja’s her stepmother.

OR Moonyoung’s biological mother died when she was born, Do Heejae’s the stepmother (abusive but still her mother because she raised Moonyoung), and Park Haengja’s the obsessive aunt.

She got so obsessed she came to believe she’s Do Heejae.

So obsessed she was always keeping an eye on Moonyoung to fulfil the prophecy that is the novel. ("You’re my greatest creation," and volume 3, shown in episode 10 with Park Ok Ran’s copy, has passages that describes episode 3.)

Park Haengja’s the one who killed Taetae Bros’ mother (screenshots of Do Heejae vs murderer below).

She took advantage of Go Daehwan’s cognitive impairment and instigated him to kill the real Do Heejae. She’s the one who saw Go Daehwan kill the woman and hide her in the basement.

Do Heejae wore her butterfly brooch on right, the murderer wore it on the left. Do Heejae always wore red nail polish and a gold rose ring, the murderer did not (although she could have had them removed if it’s premeditated).

Moonyoung’s mother:

Murderer:

Moonyoung’s mother:

Murderer:

Clearly Do Heejae didn’t wear her brooch all the time, so it would have been easy to steal the brooch. However, Do Heejae wore her ring all the time, so Park Haengja can only get the ring after she dies and "truly” become Do Heejae.

End.

I think I recovered most of my points but they’re still feel incomplete 😭

Let me know your thoughts 😊

[benmcm18]

Group 7 Independent Project!

Pre Production -

This is the second time I’m working with Group 7. It is truly an honour to be surrounded by such talented people. We have learnt from last time and we thought it would be interesting to switch up the roles. Here was what we ended up with:

Director - Jack

Cinematographer - Bonnie

Producer - Heather

Production Design - Ben

Editor - Heather

Writer - Tom

Here were also the tasks we sorted ourselves:

Write a 1-page proposal (synopsis and directors statement) - JACK (13th May)

Make the movie - Jack

Make a plan and a schedule for your work - Heather

Create a mood board (Each character) - Ben

Create a sonic world for the film (no dialogue / no voice-over) - Heather and Ben

Cut together a series of still images or sequences of footage to create a 2min film - Heather

Record some sound effects using objects you have in your room/ house - you can record on your phone. - Heather and Ben

Source and use sound effects and Atmos sound on Freesound. - Tom

Make a storyboard + animatic - Bonnie

Source footage - eg shoot, take stills, source stills, or work with stock footage from Film Supply to envision your idea - Bonnie

Shot list - Bonnie

Scriptwriting and development - Tom

Present it at the crit - receive feedback - Everyone

Write a short critical reflection on your blog. - Everyone

Songs - Everyone

As Production designer I had to create a mood board. We had discussed in meetings what aesthetic we wanted to go for and I believe we ended up with a mixture between films like “Moonrise Kingdom” and “Fight Club”. Either way, these were two of the films I took inspiration from when working on the mood board of the film.

Additionally, I had to think of the costume for both actors. For the man I chose to instead of having major differences in the two separate costumes to instead change them subtly to give a feeling he is still grounded in reality. So that means I added the glasses, changed the tie and gave him a watch to switch up how he looked. The Imagination costume is inspired from Ewan MacGregor’s character in “Big Fish'' we wanted to give him a full blue costume originally but I realised fairly soon that that wasn’t going to happen. So I adapted and decided to use his ties as a means of stating which reality he was in. When he is in the “dream world” he has a very colourful yellow tie but when he returns to his office I believe we went with a black/red tie.

For the woman, I chose to give her a very colourful look. This was purely so she could match the imagination around her. I discussed with Bonnie about possibly putting flowers in her hair but for some reason we couldn’t find anything. In regards to the rest of her costume I gave her shades so that there would be a physical separation between the two. If he can’t make eye contact with her how is he supposed to connect.

Overall, I’m very happy with the costumes and for a first attempt I’m actually quite proud.

Finally, set design. I had recently worked on a project called “Pied” where I had to create a whole set for my actors. That was pretty much my crash course for this independent project. Using the knowledge I can gain from creating that set I tried implementing it into the office workspace and the picnic arrangement. I’m happy with it but it will honestly be down to you to decide if I did a good job. If I could mention any little “fun facts” about what I did here would be a few:

I used a ping-pong table as the walls splitting the workspace

I tried spreading the food along the picnic like a wall that separated the two of them.

There is a jar of pickles in one of the shots. I don’t know who would bring a jar of pickles to a picnic but I thought it would be funny

On the back wall of the office there is a bunch of hidden Easter eggs *HOWEVER* David’s massive head covers them up!

In regards to how the other team members did. We developed the script ideas until we landed on this one. Jack had a great idea about filming some really nice shots of food. We were actually quite a big fan of this idea. I just thought Heather’s idea would allow us to experiment more.

Tom then wrote a (very) detailed script in collaboration with Heather, Bonnie drew a genuinely fantastic storyboard (she is too hard on herself haha) and Jack prepared for the shoot. One issue that presented itself fairly soon was the fact we had two actors on set. However, our Producer (Heather) handled it like a pro and we managed to get the all clear. Overall, a very hardworking start with the promise of Bonnie doing a short animation for the storyboard. (I’m looking forward to hopefully seeing it)

Production -

The shoot day was very fun. We all arrived at 11:30am and we made our way over to the location. Originally, we had planned to film on top of a hill however, things quickly changed and Jack said there was a fantastic path to film on. I was fairly set on the hill idea (As I had imagined the scene being somewhat similar to the UP opening montage) but he said it was a better location and I trust him.

So this is where it got a bit funky. It turns out the location had been converted into a dirt road since the last time Jack had been there. This was a bit demoralising as we had carried a lot of props out but luckily we had seen a location closer to the beach that could possibly work and the rest was history. That very location near the beach ended up where we would film.

With Jack directing and myself on camera we began to make our way through the storyboard Bonnie had devised. I have to be honest there were parts where we deviated from what was on the storyboard: For example, there is a section where he falls over however it didn’t look natural so we thought of another way to film it. This was where I got a bit carried away with VFX. In the long run I’m pretty sure everyone is happy with it but I wasn’t too sure at the time.

Jack did well as a director, he worked well with David and Kady especially when it came to movements of the actors. There isn’t any dialogue in the scenes so it's mainly physical language instead of verbal. My only advice for Jack would be to do a bit more research on the project before going onto the shoot because there were parts of the shoot where actors would ask questions about their character and I wasn’t confident he knew the answer.

In regards to me, I find it very hard to create something someone else envisions because I’m used to directing and filming projects on my own. I definitely think I improved on this project and having the storyboard and detailed script was a big help. I also felt I should have been more prepared as it didn’t look very good in front of the actors with me fiddling around with the camera because I had set it up in the wrong position.

Overall, I think it was a very fun shoot and it went pretty smoothly. You're going to hit speed bumps on the way but I believe Jack and I handled them well.

Oh also, forgot to mention that I had to also record sound and label all the audio and footage for Heather (why do I almost call you Clair XD) It didn’t take as long as I expected and was actually somewhat therapeutic if you can believe haha.

Post-Production -

The post production process has been going well. We have plenty of time until the deadline and we have already got a very solid draft edit so I’m not worried. I just kind of want to get it finished.

First and foremost, Heather has been doing a fantastic job editing the video. She works efficiently, takes feedback on board and seems to me to have a very solid feel on the fundamentals of editing. Looking at the edit now, there are definite issues but nothing that can’t be solved in 10 minutes. It’s clean, fluid and most of all enjoyable to watch. I’m worried without a synopsis people might not get it but I guess you could see it as “up for interpretation” haha!

Before I talk about my role in the Post-Production process, I just want to mention who else is working on the edit as well. Bonnie is planning on adding some very small animations to the edit to give it that feeling of “not-reality” I think this is crucial because without the animation in the shots. When the man defies the laws of physics it will seem really strange. I believe Tom is doing sound, I’ve supplied them with plenty of audio from on set and am free at anytime to get more for them so it will just be down to when it is completed, I have faith that Tom will create something really special with the Sound design as he will probably blend the sound of the surrounding nature with cold office sounds. I’m excited.

Now onto the part I play. I offered to do the VFX for the film and I’m very happy with them. It’s nothing incredibly tedious to create. It’s very basic motion tracking and keyframing but I think using it in small doses works well and with it accompanied by the animation and sound it will take the film to new levels of quality.

I’m just going to talk about the final VFX shot as it was the most challenging (but fun) part to work on. First, I had to figure out how I was going to get the image of Kady onto the wall without printing her because I realised I would be able to match up the shots if I had just zoomed out from an actual image. So I went for a bit of green paper. I motioned tracked it through After Effects and then played with the colour so it matched the scene. I then added an artificial zoom in Premiere and I got the final result. Now, it is not perfect in any means. I wasn’t able to track back any further than I did so the image in the paper actually moves but with the help of Heather and the use of changing aspect ratios I think it really works. I guess we will have to see how people respond.

So that is about everything on the project. I will be back to reflect next month on the finished project. Hopefully it turns out okay. Hopefully, it doesn’t turn into a train wreck. I’m sure it won’t :)

[milky-mochi]

run away with me | yeonbin

genre: fluff, royal! au, prince! yeonjun, servant boy! soobin

pairing: choi yeonjun x choi soobin

word count: 2.8k

summary: the prince and the servant boy know better than anyone that they belong together. they live in their little secrets, until something arrives to shake their world.

the royal family would never have let the prince and the servant boy play together.

yet here soobin was in yeonjun’s room, playing with little wooden blocks. soobin’s apron lay crinkled in his lap and his chubby cheeks were still a little dirty from helping his mother in the gardens a while ago. his clothes were stained too, dirtying yeonjun’s pristine carpet. but yeonjun didn’t mind. he couldn’t care less if his mother would yell at him once she took a look at his room, or if his white shirt was stained from hugging soobin. all he could care about was his eight-year-old friend in front of him, playing with his blocks and trying to build another castle.

from the other side of the creation, yeonjun handed soobin a rectangular block for the gates, to which he mumbled a small thank you. his mother had told him that he should no longer be playing with blocks at nine years old, but yeonjun didn’t care much. he’d rather be playing blocks with soobin than reading whatever book his mother had set aside for him. yeonjun watched soobin’s eyes glitter with concentration as he tried to find a block to act as the watchtower but to no avail. rising from where he was sitting, yeonjun picked up a conical block and sat next to soobin, holding it right in front of his face. soobin’s face lit up in pure excitement, causing yeonjun’s features to mirror his smile.

“thank you hyung!” soobin exclaimed, placing the cone on top of a cylindrical one, finishing off his wooden castle. soobin leaned back into yeonjun and placed his head in the crook of his shoulder and sighed, admiring the culmination of the past two hours. yeonjun gently brushed his long bangs out of his face. he made a mental note to remind soobin’s mother to cut his hair. she was always too busy to do it, with the queen always adding to her to-do list.

yeonjun felt the pressure on his shoulder increase as soobin yawned. “are you tired? wanna sleep?”

soobin’s hair brushed against yeonjun’s chin as he shook his head. “can’t. ma needs me to help with the laundry in a bit.”

“you have to go?” yeonjun asked, turning to soobin with a deep frown. “can’t you stay a bit longer? i’ll help you with the laundry!”

soobin’s bunny smile revealed itself as he giggled. there were some things yeonjun didn’t understand as royalty that made up soobin’s reality. “you know you can’t, hyung. you’re a prince.”

“why can’t i do my own laundry?” yeonjun asked genuinely, eyebrows knitting together.

“your mother would kill my ma if she saw you doing laundry,” soobin laughed as he got up.

yeonjun sighed, giving up on pursuing his questions, and soobin was glad. there were some things that were better left unknown by yeonjun. if yeonjun had started acting different from how the queen had raised him, they would have suspected their friendship. and that would mean never being able to meet yeonjun, or stay in the castle, and then what would ma do? soobin was content with how things were now, where he knew his place and shooed yeonjun off to his own when he forgot.

as soon as soobin was on his feet, the ringing of a bell resounded throughout the castle. fixing his tiny apron, soobin sighed. “there it is, four o’ clock, i need to go.”

“you’ll be back later, right? once you’re done?” yeonjun pleaded, rising to his feet and placing a hand on soobin’s shoulder.

“of course i will! once ma says i can go!”

“promise?”

“promise.”

---

several years had passed them by, yet soobin and yeonjun had paid no attention to them.

“the roses are blooming so beautifully now,” soobin whispers, running his hands over the ruby petals.

yeonjun tucked a strand of soobin's hair behind his ears and whispered, “you’re even more beautiful."

soobin's cheeks were dusted a light shade of pink. his eyes darted downwards to hide his bashfulness, but to no avail. yeonjun had already seen his shy face, and giggled at how cute his love was. yeonjun took soobin’s hand in his as the boys waded through the garden under the cover of moonlight, their fingers interlaced.

muffled cheers and music wafted from the lit castle into the silent garden. there was a great feast to celebrate the visit of a royal family of a neighbouring kingdom. they were here to to establish a strong inter-kingdom relationship, and those plans probably involved yeonjun one way or another. but he hadn’t cared enough to listen. not when soobin was the only thing on his mind, and not when those bloody plans were the only thing keeping them apart.

seeing soobin’s angelic face illuminated by the moonlight made yeonjun’s heart flutter, the same way it had fluttered for the past 10 years (though yeonjun never got tired of the feeling). yeonjun pulled soobin closer and placed a kiss square on his plush lips. there they stood, lips and souls connected, letting both the wind and time pass them by.

that was until the bells beckoned for him.

yeonjun cursed them in his mind. he hated the bells. the queen had adapted to yeonjun’s habit of disappearing from the castle, using them to call yeonjun back whenever she needed him. those bells were always reminding yeonjun of the crown on his head and the burdens that came with it. most importantly, they always pulled yeonjun away from soobin, even more than the rules of castle did.

“hyung,” soobin muttered against yeonjun’s lips, “they’re calling you.”

yeonjun cupped the back of soobin’s neck in the palm of his hands and pulled him closer. “screw the bells.”

soobin let himself melt into the kiss, filled with guilt. he wished that they could do exactly that, but they hadn't been able to for their entire lives. and soobin knew better than to challenge the queen.

“you can’t do this." soobin nudged yeonjun's shoulder. "they’ll come out looking for you, and find us here like this. you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

yeonjun pouted as he took soobin’s hands. he didn't want soobin to be right, but he was. as always. distressed and disappointed, yeonjun ran his hands through his hair. “sometimes i just wish they would. then kick me out of the castle or something.”

soobin cast yeonjun a look that could kill, warning him of the true meaning of his words. yeonjun sighed as he got the horse ready. he helped soobin up before mounting it himself, sitting right behind him. with a steady flick of the reins, yeonjun sent the white stead bounding back to the castle. he placed his head on soobin’s shoulder, despite the bumpiness of the ride. soobin leaned back into his touch, as much as he could for someone being jostled on a horse. they stayed like that as the castle gates drew nearer and nearer, and ultimately appeared in its full glory before them. as the horse slowed down to a stop, yeonjun dismounted it before offering his hand to soobin.

“there’ll be a day,” yeonjun started, with fragility and love in his eyes, “when we’ll just be together, right? when we don’t have to do this?”

soobin wanted to burst into laughter and tears. he desperately wanted to say yes, take yeonjun's hand and promise him their dreams of a love as any other in the castle. instead, he took yeonjun’s hand, climbed down the horse, and placed a kiss on yeonjun’s cheek. "i hope so, hyung. i really do.”

even as soobin uttered those words, voice barely above a whisper, he knew he couldn't promise yeonjun anything. there had never been two kings in a kingdom, nor had there ever been a love between a crowned prince and his servant boy. soobin knew, with a pained heart, that as long as they both resided in the castle, yeonjun could not be his.

yeonjun’s polished boots clacked against the earth, collecting mud. he reached for the reins of the horse, but before he could take them, soobin stopped him, shaking his head. “i’ll take care of this. you go back in.”

yeonjun pouted, but released his grip on the reins. it had always bugged him how, no matter what, soobin always acted how he was supposed to, even when it was just the both of them. but of course, yeonjun knew why. he just wished they didn’t have to be this way. just as soobin turned on his heels towards the stables, yeonjun grabbed his free hand and looked deeply into his eyes.

“i love you.”

soobin’s face curled up in an assuring smile. “i love you too.”

---

"yeonjun, dearie, where have you been?” the queen says, fake worry lacing her eyebrows. “whatever, once you get fixed up, come into the great hall. there’s someone i want you to meet.”

the queen spun around and exited the room, waving her hand as a signal for the servants to help yeonjun. they started dusting the dirt off yeonjun, changed his boots into the pointy shoes he hated. his riding jacket was swapped for a ceremonial blazer and his breeches for trousers. yeonjun’s messy hair was styled to the side, taming it momentarily.

he really looked like a prince now, and he hated it.

as he stepped into the main hall, the eyes of all guests fell on him. he was the man everyone was waiting for. hushed whispers echoed throughout the hall as yeonjun made his way to where his mother was, with the other royal family standing next to her.

“ah yes, king gojong, this is my son, prince yeonjun,” the queen gushed, introducing yeonjun to the king of the neighbouring kingdom. king gojong, yeonjun thought, that kingdom, huh.

“and this is my daughter, princess deokhye,” king gojong said.

behind the king was a girl roughly yeonjun’s age, maybe a few years younger. out of respect, she curtseyed for yeonjun and the queen, and yeonjun bowed to return the favour.

"now that the both of them are here," the king chuckled, "i suppose we could tell them the good news."

yeonjun and deokhye shared the same look of confusion. why would they need to be here? all inter-kingdom related agreements were always discussed between the kings or queens. yeonjun hated it because he didn't care for expansion of the kingdom or the collecting of riches. deokhye hated it because listening to them made her want to say something, but they'd never allowed her the chance to. the two of them had been reduced to side pieces throughout their entire life, but this one statement hinted at an unknown change.

"to emphasise our loyalty to the kingdom of king gojong, as well as our commitment to harmony," the queen started off, smiling brightly while looking at the the two bewildered faces, "prince yeonjun and princess deokhye will be married next summer."

marriage?

yeonjun felt his chest cave in and his breathing felt heavy and restricted. marriage? with someone other than soobin? it couldn't be real? he would have known about it somehow? especially when it concerned pledging himself to a person for the rest of his life, even without love? he wasn’t even attracted to women? for goodness sake, he had just met her, and all he knew about her was her name. that’s barely enough for even a friendship. and soobin. he needed soobin.

the entire hall was celebrating, yet yeonjun's world was collapsing.

he looked up at the princess and saw her equally appalled face. swallowing the lump in his throat, yeonjun muttered an 'excuse me' before running out of the hall, ignoring the panicked calls of the queen behind him.

yeonjun ran, and just kept running, out through the doors of the castle and across the green field in front of it. tears were trickling down his face and his face felt numb. he ran until he reached the stables and busted the doors open. he stood in the doorway, panting, with his hair disheveled, boots muddy, and face wet.

soobin looked over innocently from feeding yeonjun’s horse, confused. but when he saw yeonjun's eyes glistening with pain, his own were laced with concern.

"what happened, love?" soobin said gently, setting the hay down and walking over to yeonjun.

yeonjun wasted no time in pulling soobin into a kiss by his white tunic. yeonjun's kisses were usually soft and filled with love, like sun-filled clouds and moon-lit gardens.

but this kiss had an edge. salty from yeonjun's tears, but now filled with passion. soobin thought it felt like breathing in a raging sea, with a siren singing his name. it felt like gravity had fallen in love with him and was giving him lover’s embrace. it was an intense call from his love, a delivery of all the pent up longing the two of them shared over a span of ten years, releasing itself until they pulled apart.

"they're marrying me off to princess deokhye."

soobin let out a choked gasp, a small cry of pain that only yeonjun understood. he glanced down at his feet, then into yeonjun’s pained eyes. he had no idea what to do. all soobin could do was take yeonjun's smaller hand in his and stroke his thumb over yeonjun's. silence in each other's company was all they needed to process the situation. and so in silence they stood, trying to wrap their heads around the situation, and if the prospect of a solution hung on the horizon.

soobin had always been the one to make sure yeonjun followed his duties as the prince, and the last thing he wanted to do was rob the kingdom of a great leader. and maybe it was foolish of them to every think an arranged marriage was never on the cards. for yeonjun was a prince, and these are the things the children of monarchies are subjected to.

even so, soobin couldn’t let yeonjun slip through his fingers, into a castle in a kingdom thousands of miles away. there was no escaping this situation if yeonjun walked back through those doors. the wedding would be arranged, and all their dreams would crumble in the name of inter-kingdom peace. but yeonjun and soobin knew that they deserved better than that. they deserved the happy ending that all king and queens before them received, so they had to create their own fairy tale. the one of two boys who finally, finally, get to love each other with all of their pure hearts.

"let's just run away."

yeonjun gasped and looked at soobin, mouth slightly agape and eyes widened. he searched soobin's eyes for any sense of a joke (though he hoped he wouldn't find it). instead, he found himself swimming in soobin's sincerity. it had shocked him that soobin proposed it, but he knew soobin wanted it as much as he did. he knew soobin had finally lost his patience, years after yeonjun had.

yeonjun glanced downwards at their clasped hands, then at soobin's face set with determination. his tongue darted out to swipe over his lips, before he nodded, sure of himself.

with a reassuring squeeze of yeonjun's hand, soobin whipped around to prepare the horse, leading it outside. he strapped the saddle back on and fixed the reins. yeonjun grabbed his emergency riding bag that he kept in the corner of the stable, full of supplies, before running out to join soobin.

soobin helped yeonjun helped up onto his horse, then swung his own legs over the saddle, sitting behind him. flicking the reins in his hand, soobin sent the horse bounding into the night. they rode past across the great field, through the barrier of trees surrounding the royal grounds.

feeling the evening breeze on his face, riding away from the castle, yeonjun leaned back and laid his head on soobin’s shoulder, imagining the laughter and confusion of the great hall fade away behind him. in the comforting silence, the both of them were registering the weight of what they were doing. they had no idea where they were going, or what they would do. all that they were aware of was that they needed to get away from what the kingdom had dictated for them. to love each other without hiding, and to spend the rest of their lives together. they were running away from the life they had always known into the arms of uncertainty, but at least they were running into the arms of each other. for now, and forever, they belonged together; yeonjun and soobin, as it had always been to them.

in the distance, yeonjun heard the bells started ringing, but he had already decided that the only thing that could call him back was the sound of his beloved’s voice.

---

a/n: heyhey!! this is my first full length fic on tumblr, i hoped ya’ll liked it :D please please send in an ask if you have any requests bc i’d be stoked to get some!! have a great day ya’ll filled with yeonbin muah <3

[lavenderradionoises]

Have You Heard?

Warnings: mentions of suicide 

A picture frame sits on a shelf above a bed. The photo itself was small, a simple 4x6 of three kids smiling and holding up medals on a dance floor full of flowers. The glass was cracked so much it rivaled a spider web. The rest of the shelf was dedicated to holding many medals and ribbons, ranging from 1st place to 5th. The shelf was covered in a thin layer of dust, showing evidence of not being cleaned recently.

The bedroom held stagnant air. Everything was untouched while the family was in mourning. No one had the energy to enter it. After all, the room belonged to someone who was thought to be so full of life. 

The door opens with a creak. One of the kids from the photograph enter, though much older now, with a box under her arm. She looks around and decides to start with the shelf. Placing each trophy and medal into the box with enough care to not break it, but enough force to reflect how much anger bubbles under her skin. 

Reaching for the photograph, the young woman stops. Removing the picture from the frame to look at it. She sneers, mainly at herself, for being so blind. Memories of the day begin to resurface.

~

Rhythmic gymnastics is not the first sport Nova’s parents would have thought she would take an interest in, but here they are, sitting in the audience watching their child warm up for her first competition. Well, to call it a competition would be an overstatement, but to each of the seven year olds, it was the best way to be introduced to the competition scene. 

Nova follows her coach in the stretching exercises. She’s excited and ready to go out on the dance floor for her number. She was eighth on the list, the next to go after Raine but the one to go before Kym. 

After the stretches were complete, coach Cori announced that it was time for the first girl to go up. The competition would start with level 1; level 2 would go after a brief intermission where some level 10s would perform with the different elements that those in level 3 and beyond begin learning. 

Watching the other gymnasts from the sidelines gives Nova jitters, so instead, she chooses to practice her routine until her name gets called. Fifteen minutes later, she was on the dance floor, posing and listening for the telltale beep of the music starting. The seven-year-old dances to the best of her ability despite knowing that she made some mistakes along the way. Two hours later, all of the attending girls stand to receive their awards. To Nova’s surprise, she wins third place. Her friends Kym and Raine win first and second place, respectively. 

“Girls!” Raine’s mother calls, holding up a camera, “hold up those ribbons!” 

The three girls stand together with Raine in the center, holding up her blue first place ribbon with both hands, Kym to the right with her left arm around Raine’s shoulders, and the red second place ribbon in her left hand. Nova mirrors Kym but with a white third place ribbon. 

The picture was printed out and given to all those involved a week later at one of the practice sessions. That picture became the foundation of their friendship.

Some years later Nova, found herself with a choice she had never considered. Head Coach Anne pulled her and Raine off to the side during practice to inform the two that they had been selected to audition for the competitive team. It was a rare opportunity since there were only five members on the team. 

While ecstatic, Nova didn’t feel like she was ready to commit to being on the team. Sure, she had practice almost every day after school, but she was planning to stop after she graduated high school in eight months. Nova told Raine as such the next day at lunch.

“I still think you should do the audition,” Raine answered, scratching at her left wrist. A habit she picked up during middle school.

Nova let out a groan, “I thought you would say that. But consider, Anne said only one girl is going to be chosen since only Olivia is retiring. The less competition you have, the better. It’s been your dream to join the team for a while, no?”

“And? It’ll be one last competition between us if either of us gets chosen. It’s not like team members have time to participate in solo competitions.”

“I do hope you know how much I hate it when you’re like this?” Nova asked sarcastically, stabbing a fry into ketchup.

Raine let out a gasp of false hurt, placing one hand on her chest and the back of the other on her forehead, “You wound me, Nova. And here I thought you were my best friend.” 

Nova responded by throwing a different fry at her, it hit her on the nose, and the two burst out laughing. The bell rung to signalize the end of lunch, and the two parted for their next classes. The rest of the day, the gymnast mulled over the proposal. By the time she sat in her car to drive to practice after school, she had decided to take Raine’s advice and think of it as one last competition between the two. If she qualifies for the spot, she will simply inform the coaches that she cannot join due to school, and the runner up would end up joining the team. 

At practice, Nova, Raine, and three other girls from levels 8 to 10 were pulled into the gym’s furthest corner to begin learning the audition pieces. While Nova had no idea how other gyms selected members, their gym had all of the candidates perform multiple pieces featuring some of the most challenging combinations of elements as a team. There would be one dance featuring hoop and ribbon, one with rope and ball, and the final would just be all clubs. 

“I wonder if we’re each going to have to use our own balls for the final one,” Ira, a level 9, asked as the five girls were warming up.

“Probably not,” Ellyn, a level 8, replied “we will probably use one of the team balls since each of ours have a different weight. Same for the hoops and clubs.”

“Maybe not hoops,” Raine interjected, “we’re all about the same height, so the size and weight shouldn’t be too different. But I agree about the balls and clubs.” 

“I personally hope the ribbon-hoop routine won’t be difficult. Those things get tangled easily,” Masha, a level 10, confessed while changing splits positions. Nova envied her honesty.

“Well, to quote Coach Cori, that’s why we practice, no? Besides, the actual audition is in a month, and we’ll have time to get it done.” Nova informed, getting a response from the rest of the group as either a nod or a cringe. 

After stretching and warming up with all of the elements, Coach Eileen began teaching the five gymnasts their first routine. They would be starting with the ball and rope since the girls need to adjust to working as a team instead of solo performances. It was not an easy or a fast adaptation to the sudden teamwork. Coach did not hold back on her criticisms,

“Ellyn, I know that ball is your most confident element, but remember to look at the ball when catching it from Nova. And remember what your feet need to do. I thought we were past sickling your feet and not pointing your toes. Nova, when going through formation B, it’s a left split jump, not right. In the final sequence, you’re supposed to catch the ball with your knees, not your thighs. Ira, you throw the balls with your heels, not your ankles. Think of doing a walkover without following through. Raine, you’re off tempo. Pick up the speed. The rope will still be there.  Masha, let the ball bounce off your back when rolling.”

The next day, Eileen didn’t hold back on the commentary for the hoop and ribbon routine.

“The teamwork is getting better. Nova, when you throw the ribbon in the starting sequence, make sure you aim for Ellyn’s hoop. You miss because you’re used to catching the tail end, which is not the point here. Masha, when you and Nova spin the hoops around your necks, keep the right leg straight. You lose your split. Ira, when you catch the hoop with your foot, make sure you adjust your arms. You look off balance. Raine, the fuete is in front of you, not on a diagonal. You have to keep the ribbon behind your leg as you spin. Ellyn, when you throw the ribbon behind you, keep your arm straight. Because you keep bending it, Ira can’t catch it in time for the next set.”

The process was repeated for the club dance as well.

“Raine, you had to spin two clubs in one hand in your previous routine, think that but in both hands this time. Ira, when you hit the clubs against the floor during the vertical splits, keep it in tempo with the music. Masha, you keep overestimating the distance Nova is throwing the club. That’s why the club keeps dropping. Don’t be afraid to move closer if you need to. Ellyn, look forward during the lift. You have the advantage of not holding anything. Nova, leaps need to be higher. All of them.” 

When the audition came, the five improved massively in coordination as a team and individual progress due to the new situation. Everyone had adjusted to using the group elements as well. The performances would follow the order in which the girls learned the dances. That fact helped Nova calm down. 

The audition went by smoothly. A few times, someone dropped an element, but the head coach reminded them that they were looking for someone to qualify for the actual team rather and won’t be judged the same way a team would be during a real competition. The girls were informed that they would receive the results after the week of winter break. 

And informed they were. At the end of the week long break, Nova received a text that she qualifies for the team, and if there have been any sudden changes where she cannot join, then to contact Ira, who was the follow up. As soon as Nova finished reading the congratulatory text, her phone was dialing up Raine. Raine didn’t pick up the call but sent a text informing that she was okay but not in the mood to talk to anyone. The unexplainable pit in Nova’s stomach screamed to try and call again. Instead, she sent over a text saying that she is always free to listen should Raine need anything. 

When Nova awoke the next morning, it was uncharacteristically early, and there was a faint buzzing sound somewhere to her right. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, it read four in the morning. That was when Nova realized that the faint buzzing was her phone with Kym’s name flashing.

“Hello?” Nova answered, voice scratchy from sleep. 

“Have you heard?” Kym asked, voice wet and wavering.

“Heard what?” Nova questioned, rubbing her eyes and suppressing a yawn.

“Raine’s gone,” Kym replied, voice cracking, “sleep meds apparently,” she managed to choke out before letting out a sob. Nova felt her own eyes tear up, and a feeling of guilt swell inside her chest. The two friends stayed on the call for the next couple of hours, comforting each other. 

Raine’s funeral was held a couple of days later. Along with Kym and Nova, some people from the gym and school were in attendance. It was also there that Kym urged Nova to join the team, if not for herself, but to honor Raine’s memory and ambition. Nova simply nodded to get her friend off her back, though later that night, she internally agreed with Kym. Raine’s memory should be preserved.

The team was kind and patient when she messed up on the routine they were learning. The coaches understood when she had to miss practice for a few days. Her parents were the first to agree that they should be the ones to drive her to the competition that also happened to fall on Raine’s birthday two months later. 

Unexpectedly, the team won 3rd place in the competition. Especially with the number of times, Nova felt off tempo, though the coaches told her otherwise. After the awards ceremony ended, Nova’s parents dropped her off to meet with Kym so the two can sort through Raine’s gymnastics stuff. 

~

“You’re going to crumple the photo,” Kym notes, jarring Nova out of her thoughts. Sighing, Nova puts the photograph off to the side and reaches for one of the medals on the shelf. It was the one from nationals a couple of years ago, where Raine earned second place. 

“Do you want this one?” She asked Kym. Kym shook her head, stating that she didn’t have space to house any medals. 

A slip of paper caught Nova’s attention. It was behind a certificate from one of Raine’s first competitions. Carefully removing the paper revealed it to be an envelope, one holding three letters: one for Nova, one for Kym, and one for Raine’s parents. With shaking hands, Nova opened her letter and read the first line.

Nova, 

If you’re reading this, I’m sorry…