#like is this her cautionary tale or is she going to keep booking it off that cliff

[acediathemelancholy]

Love it when the protagonist/antagonist intentionally chooses to vent to their opposing counterpart. It’s even more interesting and unusual that a protagonist would seek advice from an antagonist when she knows he’s completely unrepentant. (Cartaphilus really is only chipper when talking about murder huh)

And Chise’s corruption arc just keeps chugging along...she’s already got multiple curses, a body count, and an evil mentor at this point

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

BNHA 430: This wasn’t very “My Hero Academia” of you I’ll be honest—

Okay, where do I begin? Uh. So the story reached its conclusion. Congratulations, and all the best to Horikoshi-san for telling the story he wanted to tell for ten years, loved the characters, the little world he created after the cancellation of his previous works, I will cherish it for the rest of my life.

... but in my opinion: the last seven chapters were so bad- I don't think I can see this ending as anything other than a contradiction of what we were shown. Like, I thought we'd get a twist, everyone would be fine, something would change. I'm wearing the clown shoes already.

So, I'm just gonna treat this as a normal chapter, and not a final one, because I'll be here for days if I open this can of worms, which, I will not lie, is very bad (I'll open it at some point, not now.) I'm posting this on the.. 6th? Because apparently there's an announcement in the 5th and I don't wanna spoil the fun.

So, uh, under the read more are my thoughts on the ending, be warned I'm very, very negative about it.

*sigh* Oh boi, how killing the League made this go from an "underwhelming" to a "tone-deaf" chapter- I mean, Jesus fuck, leaving things open-ended don't erase the fact they can't make a single appearence to prove me wrong, if they were alive, the last five chapters were a waste of emotions and keeping them hidden was a stupidly cruel move.

Funny the narration is just "people aren't equal but it's because of these differences that people find common ground to get along"- THE VILLAINS WERE KILLED OFF FOR BEING DIFFERENT BRO WHAT DO YOU MEAN- "if lending a hand and caring is being a hero then we all became the greatest heroes". Izuku, whatever you're drinking, I'm taking it and drinking it all by myself. You may have cared. But Tenko died. On accident. Because you gave him OFA.

I liked the "Midoriya-Sensei" part. For 5 seconds. It's fitting, he loves learning stuff, he's good with kids, until you say it's only because his embers were gone. Then why use it as a tease for seven chapters only to just get rid of them at the end? Is running to Ochako really the last we get to see him use it? Not even as a part-time hero? (not that it matters at the end-)

Ragdoll works with the WWP, Tsukuachi was head strategist in the final battle, Hawks is the (H)PSC president, why wasn't Izuku hired at an agency? Intelligence was a huge part of his character, yet the moment he was fully Quirkless again, he was out? Men truly aren't created equal...

"Cursed power", "blessing", "special" — the only thing special about OFA was being haunted by a guy whose brother was insane enough to hunt it down for generations. A Quirk's a Quirk; having multiple people/powers in one body isn’t special, Tokoyami and Shoto exist. Izuku made it special using it on his terms. But I guess "meant to save, not kill" was a lie, as eight out of ten people who had it died. Nine out of eleven, counting BNHA: HR. Tenko died because his body couldn't handle the Quirk, but I guess Izuku isn't gonna think about any of it? Katsuki was right about this too, holy shit.

Spinner wrote a book (not a comic, guess he took offense to Izuku. Fair, actually). Mr. Compress got a panel, but no real mention of the LoV? They broke the status quo for months (in-universe), and after all of that, nothing changes? Did Spinner know about Tenko, how he became Tomura? And the people who will read it and pull an MLA? TomurAFO had followers, now he's martyr a lá Re-Destro, I’m hoping Spinner didn’t commit suicide like that guy.

Ochako’s expanding Quirk Counseling. Reform’s implied (it only said expansion), but Himiko still became what Curious wanted her to be: A cautionary tale. And I’m still asking how Ochako knows Himiko went what through, she only told Ochako she was hated because of her Quirk and how she loves. I wanna think she’s reforming it, but nothing else changed, why should I think she’s the exception?

(At least she's seen as a hero on her rights… even if it took 429 chapters, messy writing, her face looking like rubber, and still being a girl recognized as a "caretaker", not a kickass hero).

Shoji's travelling through Japan to solve discrimination and got a prize for it. No foundations or mentions of Spinner being the main reason he did it, just "standing atop those who rose up eight years ago", just solving it peacefully, you sure are, buddy. Like, I'm sure you are being successful but how exactly are you solving this? I mean, you "solved" the hospital fight by fighting Spinner with Koda- Oh wait, time constraints, we can't elaborate how.

Shirakumo showed the noumu state could've been reversed, yet Katsuki, who never killed someone aside from AFO (and he was gonna die anyway), fatally exploded him. I hoped it was a misunderstood panel but no. He died because he wanted to save Tenko. Even fucking Gran Torino was alive by the end of this. Why.

I think Shoto is the only main character I’m not really having a problem with (Ochako's ending required Himiko for it to feel somewhat complete. Sorry, Ochako). I’m weirded out that they mentioned the billboard using the guy whose life was ruined by it as an example, but other than that, he’s doing fine. Wish we saw him talking to his siblings though. But alas. No mention of Fuyumi and Natsuo. And Rei's with Endeavor. Fuck.

Inko got so sidelined when Mitsuki and Masaru got half a chapter, by the way. Just one panel for her, the protagonist's mother.

Schedules not aligning is one thing, but Class A not opening an agency together? They survived two wars together and you're telling me they wouldn't say "WE'RE WORKING TOGETHER AND WE'RE TAKING MIDORIYA WITH US"? Also, where’s the "world where heroes have time to spare" when they look so busy? Were they understaffed or working as celebrities? (if someone says it was for the suit I will point out to the three nepo babies of Class A, Katsuki’s a dumbass if he forgot that detail).

Dude. We wasted pages on a kid that can throw plates from his hair. To tell him he can be a hero. Coming from the guy who had to go when he lost OFA. I'm not taking this parallel seriously.

I wish Izuku wasn't in "everything’s fine" mode until the end. We're really gonna leave him at "implied" mode, not confirm if his mental state's fine? Being open and emotional was an appealing part of him and now we just get “Yeah that’s just how it is”.

This one's petty and irrational, I know, but since I'm letting some of the steam out: I hate Izuku's new design; face scars (the constant "HE FAILED" reminder makes my eye twitch and I wish that was a joke, but also so many characters in BNHA got face scars, it doesn't even stand out), "perfect tie", normal formal attire- where's the character highlights? The things that make Izuku stand out?

But hey: He gets to be a hero again! Not with skills, heart, intelligence, strength, in spite of Quirklessness. No, he has an Iron Man suit! That Class A paid billions for. The government should be paying Class A and B (and Shiketsu and Ketsubutsu) instead, but all they get is a pat on the back. If the suit broke down, hurt or killed him while in it I'd laugh (Hatsume and Melissa worked on it? Oh it's gonna happen). And Toshinori, what happened to him, did he hit his head when he landed on that building!?

Went from: Smiles cover his fear and reassure people, believed saving is about saving body and soul, wanted to help Tenko, only didn't because Gran Torino said it wasn't a good idea. Disliked people were being heroes for fame and not because it's the right thing to do, only used support items as reinforcement and a precaution, never as a full solution, even Iron Might was so he’d have a chance to fight, not a solution.

To: If Tenko died smiling, it wasn't resignation, he was saved, even though he died. Didn't care AFO killed the Shimura - his mentor's - bloodline. Is fine with the billboards existing, even though it caused things like the Todoroki plotline. Now he's giving Izuku a suit, when the last time he did it himself, it didn't save him and his spine was almost snapped? Dude, what?

Also I thought he was paralyzed but I guess he just had a bad back.

... I hated BKDK's conclusion. It's actually so laughable how much I hate it. If it had another outcome, I'd probably be overjoyed. But:

Thematically, Tenko wasn't rescued, it wasn't a perfect victory because AFO still got away with what he did to him. "End of an Era and The Beginning" is hollow, nothing changed for the world they lived in, and it doesn’t look like they stand out among other heroes (these are AM’s successors. How.) What new era is this, really?

Their resolutions and relationship rebuild? Offscreen, but Katsuki was the one with the Iron Man suit idea for Izuku and apparently that compensates for it. Because he’s the one who can solve all of Izuku’s problems now, not motivate him to be better anymore. It wasn’t even Izuku’ idea, it was Class A, and sure it’s a nice gesture but we’ve seen Toshinori barely come out alive even with one.

Izuku barely batted an eye to any of the things he went through - losing his arms and/or OFA? Seeing Spinner's breakdown? Lady Nagant!? Katsuki or Tenko dying!? SOME INTROSPECTION, PLEASE IT’S BEEN OVER 100 CHAPTERS SINCE YOU’VE BEEN THE EMOTIONAL MC—

Katsuki's insecurities were for nothing by the way! Izuku's empathy and heart never mattered, a Quirk was more important to be a hero in the end. BULLIED HIM FOR NOTHING BUDDY- shouldn't have done it at all but wow did it become even more pointless in hindsight. Like Twice's death. Or Katsuki’s death, since “Control Your Heart” meant nothing as well.

Izuku still remembers Tenko, but has he done anything about it? No one wants to remember him, Himiko or Touya. Spinner's book will not be taken seriously, Mr. Compress was sidelined, Twice's death was pointless. They didn't change society, they've returned to the status quo. Pointless as Izuku losing his arms.

That fucking suit- Wow, he really couldn't be a Quirkless hero, the casual rivalry was just erased for an easy way out of Izuku's consequences, there's no catching up because Katsuki paid for Izuku a way to be a hero. He went full on-simp in the most disrespectful way.

And it ends with Izuku seeing Tenko's... Ghost? Hallucination? Vestige? I guess we’ll never know, because Izuku’s following his dreams again! Let's ignore he's doing this during class hours and he definitely should be in UA but who cares, he probably quit and we'd never know, as aside for the BKDK/DKBK fics, being a teacher was clearly a inferior choice for him and he can't do both ignore Aizawa and Present Mic look at him being the world's greatest hero!

It just took 1 year of trauma, scars, following on his mentor's mistakes, losing the thing that "actually" made him be a hero, having the first and the last people he tried to save dying because of his existence (one literally by his hands), proving anyone can be a hero! By ignoring the guilt of those you failed, give hands and sparing your thoughts, having superpowers and/or connections who'll give you a suit! Fuck this shit I swear-

A story about hope bent itself over to give the protagonist an unearned happy ending, when it said it was for every character who wants to connect to that hope, who wants to give that hope. Izuku went from "wanting to be a beacon of hope and save people" to "talk about beacons of hope, but in the end, others are doing this better than you. You had none of the willpower to be one." He's not hope or unity. Act 3!Izuku is just a plot device, I feel nothing for his ending other than irritation.

You could’ve had the BKDK proposal with a double spread handhold, and I'd still think Izuku's ending isn't earned anymore. His "happy ending— actually. BKDK crumbs are compensation for this ending, I feel cheated out of this ship (I feel like I'm shipping the version of them in my head, nott the canon one 424 onwards, and it only got worse from there-)

So. Yeah, those are my thoughts about the ending. I think. I don't know if these are all of them. I feel horrible about hating it, but I've sat on this chapter for days and right now, not a lot can make me like it, especially with the timeskip, which made this "open ending" a rushed and incomplete mess. If you disagree with me, honestly, that is very fair. I'm glad for you if you liked the ending. I'm just disappointed, and wanted to share my opinions. (and I do have more stuff to say about it but I think I've been negative enough)

But for the weeks I spent hoping this wouldn't slap a classic shonen ending in this catasthrophic mess and for making me feel like a dumbass after what we got in the end: Everything after 410 that isn't 421 and 422 is non-existent to me, this epilogue was a freaking waste.

Thank you for reading.

[vulpixisananimal]

(You are tired of the library.)

(Warning. Bellow the read more contains talk about self harm\suicide)

(No matter the library, you would always find one of those books. Be it Carpentry, fiction, Craft, sailing, whatever. There would always be just one book, one damn book.)

(Just let it die.)

(But you had to be there, And of course, it had to be you. Siffrin was nowhere to be found after yesterday, and Loop also disappeared soon after after that morning.)

(So. Here you are.)

(Yourself and Odile looking through the central Jouvente library for, what. Wishing stars? How could that help. You knew that whoever tried to grab Boniface had a wishing star emblem on their person. But that was it. What were the chances that you'd find something useful here.)

(But at least it was quiet.)

(Boniface, Pétronille, Isabeau, and Mirabelle had all headed off to the Defenders to ask them about any potential kidnappers in Jouvente. You didn't want to be around a crowd like that.)

(You sighed. Closing the book you were looking through. It was of your language, but it was just another cautionary tale. Be careful what you wish for, that sort of thing. You put it back.)

(You breathed in, and out.)

(It was probably a good thing only you could read these books. Wish craft deserves to be forgotten, with all the pain it's caused.)

(It was thanks to Wish craft that Vaugarde was nearly frozen in time. That Siffrin was trapped in a time loop. And you were pretty damn sure it was a wish that erased your country from history.)

(Stupid wishes.)

"Have you found anything, Siffrin?"

(Odile was here. She snuck up on you. No, that's not fair, you were just not paying attention. You turn to her, and shake your head.)

"Neither have I. Most of the books on wishes would probably be yours to find."

(You sigh. Of course it would be.)

(Wordlessly, you look back to the bookshelf, picking another paper of dead languages to look through. Odile standing next you, watching you.)

"... Is everything alright?"

(No. No it wasn't alright. But you know that, didn't you Odile. Odile Odile Odile. Always the smartest and quickest to work things out. Go on, say it. Say you've figured out you're not Siffrin, is so, so obvious.)

(You read the book.)

". . ."

(Odile is still there. Go away.)

". . . I acted, inappropriately, a few days ago. I'm sorry."

(Huh?)

"I understand if you don't forgive me. I knew something was wrong and couldn't wait for you to bring it up first. That was wrong of me."

(. . . Right.)

(She did know you weren't Siffrin, but she wasn't bringing it up. But she brought it up anyways by talking about how she menaced you a few days ago. So smart, so smart you are, aren't you.)

(You sigh, and close the book. You turn to her, avoiding eye contact.)

(You open your mouth, nothing comes out.)

". . . Siffrin?"

(You turn away, back to the book.)

". . . You can't speak, right?"

(You nod. You never could. The rare times you were here alone, you had to make do without talking. You could never get yourself to talk.)

(Well, you could, but it would give everyone a headache. You continue reading the book.)

"I can teach you sign language, if you want."

(. . .)

"I understand if there's some. . . Issues between us, but I'm still willing to help with-"

(You hold a finger.)

(There's something here.)

(Records of wishes. Wishes people made and what came from it. One person wished to find a rare fish, and could find they could fish for days at a time non stop. Another wished for true love, and was compelled to travel afar. A third wished their brother would recover from an illness, and they gained powerful healing craft.)

(Odile was talking to you. You ignored her.)

(Hmm. Siffrin wished to stay with his friends, and was given a time loop to do it. The king wanted to remember, and was given the power of time craft of all things.)

(There's a pattern here.)

(Keep looking. What else is there. What kind of wishes did people make. What did they get, did they always get their wish? Of course they did. What about the stars. What's with that star, you knew, didn't you? Did you? What was it-)

"Siffrin!"

(Odile places her hand on your shoulder.)

(Don't. Touch. Me.)

(Even without words you got the message across. Stupid. You're not friends. You're not even allies.)

(She's staring at you. Afraid.)

(You must look downright terrifying right now.)

(So what. She'll get over it, and if not, then you'll be tugged away just like you have hundreds of times. It didn't matter. Slowly, you put the knife to your side, there's no blood on it. You pick up the book again.)

". . . Sorry."

(Fine.)

(Damn. You lost your place. Fine. You started walking to the entrance with the book in hand. You could check the book out or steal it. They wont miss a dead language. You needed out of this dusty, disgusting place. Odile followed.)

(You paused at the exit. It was bright outside.)

". . ."

(She wanted to say something. What, another apology? A scolding?)

(. . . No, something's wrong.)

(She must have picked it up too. You heard something, felt something, smelt something. But you couldn't make it out. There was too much information, too much at once. You gritted your teeth and stepped outside.)

(You winced at the light. The streets were busy. It was loud. Stars, what was going on, something was off, something was wrong.)

"D-dile!"

"Gems- Bonny?!?"

(You turn, Boniface was running to Odile. Why were they here? They were holding tight to Odile. They were crying.)

"There!"

(You look up. A couple of Defenders were jogging over to you two. On instinct, you put yourself between them and Odile and Boniface.)

(Odile seemed just as suspicious.) "What, what happened? what do you two want?"

(The defenders seemed unremarkable, by Vaugarde standards that is.) "That kid ran away from their sister, we're trying to get them back to her."

(Hmm...)

"They ran way from Pétronille? Did something happen?"

(Boniface wasn't responding.)

"Well they were almost kidnapped yesterday, but we caught the girl who tried it, I bet they're still spooked."

(Girl?)

". . . Who was it?" (Odile asked, stone faced.)

"It wasn't her..."

(You turn around, Boniface...?)

"Belle didn' do it... Za told me to, to get you, and, and Nille..."

(You draw your dagger.)

"Siffrin! No need for that!"

"Hey easy kid, we're here to help."

(Help. Ha. You looked at the two defenders. When Mirabelle asked for help all those cowards chose to stay here all nice and comfy. It didn't mater that Vaugarde would freeze. Help, they only helped themselves.)

(Something was wrong. Something wasn't right. Isabeau, Pétronille, and Mirabelle were undoubtedly in trouble.)

(. . . No, it was past that.)

(You didn't need some star in your ear or some annoying jingle. You knew what this was. Wrong choice then, after all.)

(You turn to look at Boniface and Odile. They looked worried, confused, maybe angry. Odile, oh Odile, holding Boniface and telling them its ok even if the world is stabbing them both in the back. Oh whatever, it didn't matter anyway.)

(Well, here comes the hardest part. You twist the knife the other way.)

(Odile. She looks confused. And then, she looks horrified. Oh Odile, always the quickest to work things out.)

(She can't move fast enough to stop you.)

(It hurts.)

(. . . It took longer than usual.)

(. . . The other two would show up soon. They can deal with it.)

(. . . You're going to throw up.)

[vulpisnocturna]

Bloodstained Rubies - Chapter 1 - Snare

Not sure if I’m going to cross post here as well, but I’ll post the first chapter… in case I only continue it on AO3, this is the link

Chapter II

I do not condone this behaviour in real life. This is fictional. Please take care, read the warnings and avoid if you think this content may be triggering to you.

Warnings: Yandere Chrollo, Stalking, Kidnapping, Obssessive Love, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Drugging, Breaking and entering (Chrollo out here committing all the felonies)

Word Count: 5k

The rain had seeped into the cracks of the cobbled alleyway, rendering the stone slippery, dampening the aged brick walls caging the narrow passage, darkening the view even more. Straining eyes could only make out bulbous orange glows of faraway street lights, legs numbed from the cold autumnal air and unrelenting rainfall toiling to keep a rapid pace and avoid slipping on the damp stones.

Slowing down was not an option. Neither was turning back and choosing a different path. Over the sound of the roaring rain, soft footsteps could be heard, not too far away. Growing closer. Or perhaps it was a mere figment of an imagination much too vivid and active, and the danger was only the product of a life of warnings and cautionary tales. Like a monster under the bed.

Thirty steps. Thirty steps to the safety of the main street. Breath puffing in clouds of haze, raindrops adorning lashes, hair sticking to the skin, knees weak and unsteady.

Twenty.

It was closer now. Almost real.

Ten.

Almost tangible, close enough that the alleyway seemed to lengthen, dilating, making the main road impossible to reach. One slip on the damp cobblestones could spell demise.

Five.

The light was closer. People could be seen walking through the street, carrying umbrellas or hurrying through the rain. Safety.

One.

You inhaled sharply, your heart thundering in your ribcage, the sounds of the bustling street filling your ears, enveloping your heaving chest in relief. People walked by you, and you blended with the crowd, heading to the station. You had walked that alleyway a thousand times, and you’d never felt that dread, that feeling of being hunted. Targeted. Your bones had turned into ice in your body.

You had never been particularly impressionable, but in the last couple of weeks, you’d felt watched. But when you turned towards the alleyway, your eyes wandering around the street behind you, there was no one. You shook off the horrible feeling in your gut that told you to run and hide, and sought refuge in the warm underground station, tapping your phone at the gates and descending the stairs. No one was behind you. No one was out to get you. You were safe. You were going to go home and make yourself a cup of tea before you went to bed early.

You got on the train, sitting in a fairly crowded carriage, taking out Pride and Prejudice from your bag and resuming from where you had left off that morning. It was one of your favourite books, and you had read it dozens of times, but you still got some nostalgia for it from time to time.

The minutes passed, and you forgot all about your gut feeling in the alleyway, your mind immersed in the world of Elizabeth Bennett and her witty quips that always made you smile. She almost made you lose track of the stops, but luckily, you heard the announcement and stood up, hastily putting the bookmark at the page you had reached and hurrying to the platform.

Luckily, you lived a mere two minutes from the station, in the outskirts of the city, where trains could be heard even with the windows shut and the curtains drawn, but at least, you could afford your own place. It wasn’t all that bad, truly. It was a small house, reminiscent of a cottage with its brick walls and small rooms, and its low ceilings. It was cosy, covered with plants and books, it even had a small fireplace that was your pride and joy. You’d filled it with pillows, blankets and trinkets that had caught your eye in thrift shops and fair markets. You locked the door behind you, taking off your drenched coat and your damp boots, hating the feeling of wet socks clinging to your feet. You took them off too, deciding to have a hot shower before bed.

You had finished late at work, to the point where your boss had offered to get you some dinner, and you had gladly accepted, blinking your tired eyes at the computer screen to stay awake.

You were overworked and underpaid, but you needed that job desperately, and therefore, you made it a habit to gamble more unpaid hours for a more stable future. With the hope that one day, your hard work would pay off, and you’d get a promotion. So far, you’d been unsuccessful.

However, the week was now done, and you prepared yourself for a free day of peace. Saturdays were your favourite days. You usually tried to get up before nine, so that you could make the most of them. You made pancakes, went for a walk to the park next to your house, bought lunch at the quaint brunch stall by the lake and on good days, you ate under the weeping willow on the shore, basking in the sight of the tree branches swaying on the surface of the water, the water lilies crowding the shore and the sunlight reflecting on the lake. After that, you headed to the library in the city centre, where you would have spent all day if you could. You usually visited the market before you went home, and then, you would watch a film and head to bed later than usual. Sundays were your cleaning days usually, unless you wanted to meet up with a friend or needed to run errands.

You had no idea that Saturday would be the last chance for you to experience all those things.

The library was quiet that day, even though the rain had continued to pour down the city since Friday morning and people usually flocked there or to the museums and cinemas when it was gloomy outside. In your opinion, it was the best time to be at the library: the big, arched windows of the upper floor offered a scenic view of the storm brewing outside, and the warmth of the orange lights and the mahogany bookshelves of the antique library made you feel cosy. You were sitting on a plush green armchair, your favourite spot in the corner of the upper floor, right by the window and the classics section. Something about the smell of the old books that were gathered there offered you comfort.

‘Excuse me, miss’ you heard a soft, masculine voice say, timbre smooth and rich. You lifted your eyes from your book, looking at the man in front of you. Your stomach dropped for a second, and you swallowed, trying not to stare. He was around your age, perhaps a few years older, and the most attractive man you had ever seen in your life. His lean, tall build was highlighted by smart black trousers, a simple maroon jumper and a long, black coat. Round, slightly upturned grey eyes sat in a face of sharp cheekbones, angular jaw, delicate and yet masculine nose and well-defined lips stretched into a slight smile. He was wearing an odd bandana of sorts on his forehead, but it did nothing to dampen his looks. Shoulder-length black hair fell in unruly strands around his neck and shorter bangs that covered parts of his forehead, and round turquoise earrings shone on his ears, the bright hues contrasting against the beautiful dark hair.

‘Uhm- yes?’ you murmured, righting your posture a little under his gaze.

‘I was wondering if you dropped this bracelet by any chance’ he said, lifting a hand, your gold bracelet dangling from his tapered, willowy fingers. You glanced at your wrist, clearing your throat.

‘Yeah- yes, thank you, that’s mine’ you said, holding the book with one hand and lifting yourself up, extending your hand. Instead of giving it to you, he held your hand and wrapped it around your wrist, clasping it and giving you a smile. Your breath threatened to falter, and you were almost hypnotised by him as he gave one last stroke to the back of your hand before he let it go.

‘There. Should be safe from slipping now’ he said, and you noticed he was holding a book in his hand. The Picture of Dorian Gray, one of your favourite books. So not only was he handsome, he also had good taste.

‘Thank you’ you said again, smiling at him. He nodded.

‘I’m Chrollo’ he said, extending a hand. You shook it, giving him your name in return, and he said it himself, as though he was weighing it on his tongue. It sounded good in his voice. Soft, like a gentle caress on your spine. It made shivers run down your spine.

‘I’ve never seen you here before’ you said conversationally, hoping your social skills hadn’t been too hindered by your nervousness around someone so attractive and charming speaking to you.

‘This is my first time visiting this library, actually. I have only recently moved here, and I happened to walk by and see this building, and I had to visit it. It is truly beautiful here. A very pleasant place to read in peace’ he said, and you nodded along. He was so like you, you thought the same of this library. It was your special place in this city.

‘I feel the same way. I come here every Saturday, just to escape the daily life for a while. How are you finding the city? Are you here for work?’ you asked, finding yourself drawn to that stranger for some reason. There was something fascinating about him, something enigmatic. Or perhaps it was just the way his grey eyes seemed so intense, as though he could read your mind. He was like a lead character in a book.

‘I am. The city centre is quite beautiful architecturally, but I haven��t had the chance to partake in much sightseeing’ he said, ‘and you? Why are you here? Work, or is this the city you grew up in?’

‘No, I grew up in a very small town you probably never heard of. A boring place. I came here to find some work a couple of years ago’ you said, hoping that before the conversation ended, you could get his number. You hadn’t been in the dating scene for a while, and though you were busy, this stranger was just too intriguing. He seemed so intelligent, soft-spoken and genuinely interested in you.

‘I see. I’m afraid I must take my leave now. Allow me to buy you a coffee before that’ he said, putting down the book in a basket by the banister. Your stomach felt warm, and you chuckled nervously, finding it hard to keep eye contact when he was staring at you so intently.

‘Oh, no, you’ve already found my bracelet, I wouldn’t want to keep you. Besides, the prices here are outrageous’ you stammered. Did he like you? Was he truly... flirting with you? This was more like a scene out of a romance book rather than real life.

‘Please, I insist’ he smiled, and you could not say no.

‘Oh, well... thank you. That’s really kind of you’ you said, following him towards the stairs. Chrollo’s eyes softened, and he shook his head.

‘It’s my pleasure’ he only said, smoothly, nonchalantly, as he started to descend the stairs, with you following close.

The cafeteria was placed near the entrance, and you had always deemed it too expensive as a treat. But Chrollo did not even have a change in expression as his eyes followed the menu on the chalkboard on the wall.

‘What would you like?’ he asked, and you eyed the drinks and the corresponding prices, gaze trailing to seek the cheapest one.

‘Uhm... just a coffee would be fine, thank you’ you said hesitantly. He let out a soft sigh.

‘I would not offer it to you if I could not afford it. What would you really like?’ he asked, a sly smirk on his face. Your cheeks felt hot, and you smoothed the front of your jumper in an attempt to calm the embarrassment of him calling you out.

‘A chai latte, please’ you murmured, and he nodded, seemingly pleased as he made his way to the till and took out a black leather wallet from the pocket of his coat. When he came back, he was holding your drink along with his. From the smell, it was black coffee. Quite in tune with his gothic appearance.

‘Thank you, Chrollo’ you smiled at him, holding the cup with both hands when he handed it to you, warming your cold fingers.

‘It was a pleasure to talk to you. I hope to see you again soon’ he said, standing closer to you, his fingers reaching to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath until he stepped away.

‘Me too’ you murmured, earning another slight smile from him as he walked away, sipping his coffee and disappearing behind the corner that led to the exit.

You smiled, fingertips reaching to your cheek, the skin feeling warm where he had touched you.

You found you could not wait until the next Saturday, hoping he would remember that you’d said you’d be there and visit the library again.

Your Sunday was spent running errands, getting a haircut, visiting your friend who was in the hospital following a fall from the stairs that had resulted in two broken legs and a concussion. He was quite optimistic despite saying that he had had no idea how he’d fallen, that he’d just felt pain on his nape and then he had lost consciousness. When he’d woken up, his legs were horribly broken and bent as he had fallen from a flight of stairs.

You’d just seen him the day of the accident in the morning, and he had seemed fine, not dizzy or anything. Although he’d been reminiscing about a crush he’d had on you years ago, which to you was odd, as you had had no idea he had ever liked you.

Nevertheless, the doctors had said he’d been lucky to survive because his head trauma was nothing short of dangerous. You were just glad he was in good spirits and looking forward to getting better.

You smiled slightly, turning the keys to your door and stepping in, holding the letters you hadn’t yet opened as you walked into the living room.

The first one was your electricity bill, the second one a useless letter of invite to a neighbourhood church meeting-

‘Hello, darling’

You let out a scream, your heart skipping a beat as you spun around, the letters falling to the ground, and your terrified eyes set on the man who was lounging on your sofa, sipping a cup of tea from your favourite mug.

Chrollo.

It was Chrollo. The guy whom you’d met the day before. The kind, handsome man who’d found your bracelet and offered to buy you a coffee.

‘W-what are you doing here? How do you know where I live? How did you get in?’ you stuttered, taking a trembling step back. He took another sip, setting your mug down.

‘I came to visit you. You have a very flimsy lock, it’s very unsafe’ he said calmly, as though his words were not completely insane. He’d broken into your house? Was he- a stalker? The presence you’d felt in the alleyway… was that him?

You felt nausea coil in your gut, making your head spin with fear and horror.

Another step back. His eyes were on you. Calm, unfazed. He was smiling slightly, as though amused. But he was sitting, and you were less than ten feet away from the door. But it was locked. You needed time. At least a few seconds of advantage.

Your phone. You would call the police whilst you talked to him. But your phone was in the hallway. Not with you.

‘Chrollo- please go away’ you tried pleadingly, hoping it would make him spare you. It did not.

‘There is no need to worry. I won’t hurt you, darling’ he said, voice soft and sweet. You shivered, and when you saw he was taking another sip of his coffee, you bolted to the door.

Your fingers had barely managed to graze the keys when he appeared in front of you, blocking the door, clucking his tongue against his teeth. How had he managed to get there so quickly? What was he going to do to you?

The kitchen. You needed to get to the back door. Maybe grab a knife and stab him.

‘Now, now, this would be much easier if you just listened’ he said, but you did not wait for him to grab you. You made a beeline for the kitchen, and you had almost reached the handle when he once again appeared in front of you. You flinched, stumbling back, spinning to the counter and grabbing a large knife. Chrollo let out a soft laugh.

‘Oh, darling. I admire your efforts, but that won’t help you. Put it down’ he said easily, one hand in his pocket as he approached you. You swallowed heavily, cold sweat clinging to your spine as your fingers tightened around the handle until you thought you could feel welts stinging your skin.

You could hear the hammering of your heart in your ears, the heavy sound of your panting.

When he took another step, you swung at his stomach. Your wrist was caught in an iron grip, and you hissed in pain, your fingers loosening instinctively until the knife clattered to the ground.

Your eyes burnt with tears, and you tried to punch him, which only resulted in your other hand being caught. Thrashing wildly, like a caged animal, you kicked and pulled to no avail.

Chrollo was too strong. Inhumanly so. He was like a brick wall, completely unfazed by your attempts at escaping or hitting him.

‘Let me go! Let me go!’ you screamed your lungs out, until one of his hands lifted to cover your mouth and he pushed you against the wall, trapping you against it.

‘Shh, shh. You are being such a brat, my love. This is all futile, can’t you see? Where’s the sweet girl I met yesterday? The one who could not stop blushing and smiling at me?’ he asked against your ear, pushing his body more into you. Your eyes widened as you felt a hard bulge against your backside.

No. No, no, no. This could not be happening. Not to you. Not here. This was your safe haven. Your home.

You screamed, sounds muffled by his hand, and he let out a sigh.

‘You have nothing to fear. I don’t plan on acting on my desires as of yet. However, your defiance is starting to irritate me. I’m going to have to take more drastic measures’ he said, and you felt his hand leave your mouth briefly and return pushing a cloth to your mouth and nose. Your heartbeat shot up as panic gripped your stomach, and you held your breath, kicking and thrashing, unable to get him off you until you had to breathe in that sweet-smelling scent. He held it there for a few seconds, and your head immediately started spinning, your ears starting to ring.

‘I’m truly sorry to have to do this, darling. If you’d been compliant, I wouldn’t have had to knock you unconscious’ he said, and your legs wobbled when he pulled it away, to the point where they could not hold your weight and you slumped to the ground. He caught you, holding you against him, and even though you tried to fight back, to push him away, your body was limp and it would not do what you wanted it to.

‘What… did you give me?’ you breathed, vision blurry, your body completely numb. He pushed away the strands of hair from your face, stroking your cheek.

‘Shh. Just an incapacitating agent. This will make you sleep for a few hours. Close your eyes, my love. You must be so tired after all that screaming and thrashing. You can rest now, I’ll watch over you’ he said gently, and you blinked slowly, trying to see him through the dark splotches in your field of view, trying to curse him, to beg him to leave, but your mouth would not move anymore. Soon, the darkness pulled you in and made you its prisoner.

Chrollo smiled, stroking your soft hair, tracing the skin of your jaw and lips. He hadn’t been able to hold himself any longer after having made contact with you. He’d first seen you a month earlier, in that picturesque library where you were curled on a green armchair, completely spellbound as you read Pride and Prejudice in front of an arched window. He had been entranced from the first moment he’d seen you. It wasn’t just your appearance, though he was convinced there was no woman more beautiful than you were, but your mannerisms, your soft smiles as you read specific lines, the way your eyebrows furrowed when you were concentrating, the natural innocence that radiated from you, that had been what had truly ensnared him. That moment, he’d decided that he needed to know everything about you, from your hobbies to your favourite colour to your life story.

He had never fallen in love, but the feeling that had bloomed in his cold heart must have been love: it was desperate, all-consuming, and yet so gentle and calming. It burnt and soothed his soul at the same time. Images of you plagued his every second, and he could think of nothing but to have you all to himself. Why should the world be allowed to benefit from your presence? Why should people be allowed to leer at you, desire you, want you for themselves? He wanted all of you to be consumed by him just as every part of him was consumed by you. He did not want to share your affection with anyone else.

He had followed you home many times, making sure you were safe. After all, you didn’t even know how to use Nen. You were so delicate, like turquoise and amber gemstones. So beautiful, yet so easily broken. With his new love for you came a heart-wrenching fear of losing you: in a world like that, you could never protect yourself. Only he could offer you enough safety.

Despite being a normal civilian, your intuition and gut feeling was impressive. Sometimes, he had to rely on Zetsu in order to avoid being sensed by you. You had a keen sense of danger. Not that it would help you.

Your house was little, much too inadequate and meagre for someone who deserved the most beautiful things the world had to offer. But you would not have to live in this dingy neighbourhood, with the train tracks so close to your windows, for much longer. Despite the grimy neighbourhood, your cottage was cosy. Decorated with everything that made up your lovely personality, Chrollo had felt his chest swell with warmth as he walked silently around the living room the first time he’d broken in, examining your collection of books, seeing which ones were more tattered, lines on the spines of cheap copies. You deserved the feel of an antique book in your hands, not one of those second-rate editions. He could tell from the décor how much you loved this place. He would make sure you had plants, a fireplace, paintings and books and whatever else your heart desired.

All the treasures in the world had been made for you, he’d decided. And he’d steal them all. Then, he had wandered to the small bedroom connected to the living room. His eyes were accustomed to the darkness, he could see your sleeping form curled under the blankets, lips parted and breath steady and heavy. You looked so beautiful, so peaceful. He had the urge to slip the blanket off you, hold you to him, bury his face in your hair. But he didn’t. Not when he could not see your reaction. He wanted you to be awake, wanted you to want him to do all those things.

Temptation had taken him as far as stroking your hair, bending his head to press his lips against the top of your head. The scent of it, so sweet and reminiscent of a spring meadow, had almost made him groan.

He had visited you at night more often, and every time, he would dream of you afterwards, always waking up burning with desire. He needed you. Needed you all to himself. And so he resorted to doing what he did best: steal you.

He knew your patterns well after a few weeks: you worked a contemptible job undeserving of you Monday to Friday, and often stayed late, to the point where you would have to walk back to the station in the dark through dingy alleyways. It was completely and utterly unacceptable. On Saturdays, you walked through the park near your house and then went to the library in the city centre. On Sundays, you stayed home. Before he stole you, though, he wanted to speak to you.

The Sunday he had planned to meet you as you went about your errands, he had seen you visit a man you seemed friendly with. You had gone for lunch with him, laughed at his inane jokes, smiled at him. Chrollo had gotten closer to overhear the conversation, finding out that the swine was infatuated with you. Jealousy he had never felt in his life had burnt hot and bitter in the pit of his stomach, and he had barely been able to restrain the urge to kill him there and then.

But he couldn’t, not in front of you. You were too precious and sweet to bear such a sight. And he would need to make it painful, as punishment for the crime committed. He also did not like the idea of you shedding tears for that moron. No, he would have to kill him after he stole you. It would not do for you to weep for him, be consumed with thoughts about him, when Chrollo wanted him to disappear from the face of the Earth. It did not mean he couldn’t inflict pain on him in the meantime, though.

So that was what he had done. It was a meagre consolation, mere crumbs of reprieve for his resentment, but at the very least, he had had the pleasure of seeing him fall on his legs in the worst way. The worst possible fractures would be there, possibly incredibly painful and inoperable. He hoped the hit to his head had not made him a vegetable. He wanted him cognisant and receptive when he returned to visit him.

Because of the little mishap, he hadn’t been able to steal you on that Sunday and had had to wait one more week, which had only fuelled his bitterness for your acquaintance. However, it had also given him the possibility of meeting you at the library on the following Saturday. And God, you were truly delightful. Sweet and shy, kind and trusting. He had had to leave, or he would have stolen you right there and then. He could see you liked him, his touch. You had been keen to have more. And he would be delighted to grant your wishes.

Which was why he had chosen the next day to wait for you at your house. And now, he finally had you in his arms, though you had been a little recalcitrant. It had saddened him to have to render you unconscious, and the fact that you had seemed so frightened despite him reassuring you he had no intention of harming you was deeply displeasing. Still, he would be a liar if he denied that your fervour and defiance hadn’t tempted him, too. You had just been thrashing in his arms, rubbing against his body in the most sinful ways, and he had only wanted to have you at that very moment. But it would not do. You had been too scared and taken aback to enjoy the encounter, and he planned to make it unforgettable for the both of you.

So he had merely resorted to knocking you unconscious so you would stop causing a commotion.

He picked you up gently, lowering you on the sofa whilst he went to see if there was anything he needed to take with him. He could get you more clothes, ones that would look perfect on you. But he still got you a few handpicked garments for the time being, including your prettiest lingerie, which was utterly ravishing. He could hardly wait to see it on you and tear it off your body.

Your perfume was on the dresser, and he happened to have developed quite a liking for it. It wasn’t as expensive as something he could have gotten for you, but he could find a substitute for it that resembled its scent in the future. For now, he put it in the bag he’d taken with him. None of your books were of any significance, he had memorised the ones you liked the most and planned to get you antiques of those. Jewellery was also not an issue. He could get you so much better. Rubies or emeralds would look stunning on you, he thought. He got your passport, wallet and phone, just to throw off the police, and closed the bag. He put the knife you’d tried to use on him back in the holder and exited the house, putting the bag in the trunk of his car and going back to get you. You were still unconscious, sprawled on the sofa, and he checked once again that no signs of struggle could be seen before he picked you up, took the keys from the dresser next to the front door and closed the door behind him.

He lowered you on the backseat, closing the door and letting out a sigh as he walked to the front and locked the doors before he drove away. You were finally his.

Chapter II

[deejadabbles]

Hiiii friend!! wanted to request a spooky prompt number 6 and 😈 with Fives please and thank you!!

Hello darling!! Thank you for sending this in, I was very inspired the moment I read it so I hope you enjoy this 🤩 This one also got a little ~heated~ since Fives had officially become one of my faves 😏

How to Summon A Demon Boyfriend (Demon!Fives x GN Reader)

Summary: There's no such thing as demons, they're just something to use for cheesy cautionary tales...Right? Rating: M (Minors DNI) Word Count: 1,813 Warnings: Crappy 'friends', small injury and mentions of blood, reader gets a big scare but it's fine in the end I promise, heavily suggestive content. Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up  /// AO3

You really needed to learn to say no sometimes.

Tonight was supposed to be the perfect chance to curl up on the couch in your favorite PJs and coziest blanket. Instead, you were freezing your ass off in a dark playground, pretending to summon a demon like some bored teenager. 

Cam and you weren’t even that close, just work buddies, but that little voice inside your head had been yelling too loud: 'he was really sweet and invited you! You have to go! It would be rude not to!' Now you were annoyed with every moment of this silly little seance.

“Alright, I think that should do it!” said the cute blonde girl, who you didn’t know before tonight. You didn’t know any of Cam’s friends, yet here you were with them. “I think it’s a good little summoning circle, if I do say so myself!” She beamed down at the chalk drawing she’d sketched onto the area usually reserved for hopscotch. 

Then another one of Cam’s friends, a young man with dark hair fit for a punk band, voiced your own thoughts, “This is stupid, what makes you think we can summon a demon from some random book you found in a second hand store?”

“Dude, I’m telling you, if anything’s the real deal, it’s this!” Cam insisted, cautiously taking the book from the blonde and flipping a page, “I mean, just look at this!” He tilted it towards you and the punk guy, “The ancient looking paper, the notes and stains- plus, the store owner said she got it from her friend when he died and that his family was into all kinds of strange occult shit.”

You would admit, it was a very convincing tome, even if the demon summoning was all fiction, the owner had put lots of work into its design. You reached out to touch the edge of the page, to see if it really did feel ancient, but just as you did Cam moved as well and a sharp pain seared through your finger tip.

With a loud hiss and a curse you pulled your hand back, clutching it close to your chest.

“Shit- sorry!” Cam said, “Paper cut?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, taking a tentative peak at the now throbbing finger. It was leaking red, the skin around it looking angry, and you noticed part of the offending page was now stained with your blood too. Well, at least it added to the book’s authentic aesthetic. 

“Wow, didn’t know we’d be making blood sacrifices tonight,” the blonde said with a laugh.

“Happy to contribute,” was your sarcastic reply as you tried to soothe the throbbing. “Next time I-”

“Uh, guys!” Cam’s eyes were wide as he looked down at the book, “The words are glowing!” Then he let out a high pitched yelp, and dropped the book as if it had burned him.

With a loud thud, it landed on the summoning circle and that’s when you saw that the curving calligraphy on the pages were indeed glowing! Not only that, but the moment it touched the chalked symbols, the ground below you started to rumble unlike any earthquake you had ever seen.

Cam and blondie yelped as they fell to the ground together, you not keeping your balance for much longer, and punk kid only staying upright when he threw himself on a picnic table.

“What the hell is happening?!” the girl yelled, pulling the hood of her jacket up as if that would shield her from the horrors unfolding.

“You’re the ones who wanted to summon a demon!” Punk shouted, looking pale and ready to hurl as the ground continued to shake.

Then, within the circle, the already cracked and worn cement split apart. Chunks of it flew as old compacted dirt from beneath surged to the surface, making way for something else.

It wasn’t a man- “man” didn’t begin to describe it. Clawed hands reached towards the sky, lifting above a head of dark curls that did little to hide two large horns. Dark skin around tight muscles that flexed as he rose up from the earth, a bare chest with marks that might have been tattoos, and a blue kilt of some sort that made room for a swaying tail.

Paralyzed on the ground as you were, all you could do was watch with wide eyes as the demon stretched, and let out a roar of a yawn as if waking from a deep sleep. Then his eyes flashed open, revealing deep brown irises rimmed in red.

He scanned them over your little petrified group and, for some reason, your stunned brain noticed the dumbest little detail. 'Oh, he has a number five tattooed on his forehead. Wonder what that means'.

That’s when the demon pulled his lips back in a dastardly grin, revealing large fangs surely made to rip apart human flesh.

“Run,” he growled.

Somebody screamed. Someone else cried some sort of plea. But you couldn’t say anything, all noise dying in your throat as you rolled over and tried to scramble to your feet. Just as you started to, someone (Cam?) knocked into you and sent you tumbling back to the dirt painfully. Footsteps thundered around you and, looking up, you realized that the other three were already disappearing into the darkness as they ran, leaving you behind.

“Wait-” the pleading call was lost in the wind, just as something behind you took a loud step closer.

Somehow your brain was going a mile a minute and not thinking anything at all as you became painfully aware of the large, looming presence closing in on you. Body unable to move from fear, all you could do was listen as the demon let out a low, deep chuckle.

“Some friends you have,” he purred. “Leaving you here.” Something brushed along your back. “All alone.” Leaves rustled as he knelt above you. “With me.” Hot breath fanned against your ear.

A noise very close to a squeal left you as a hand grabbed your shoulder and rolled you over onto your back. You were face to face with the demon now, his arms caging you in on either side, his face hovering over yours, and still sporting that hungry grin as his dark eyes looked you over slowly.

“P-please don’t kill me,” it came out as little more than a wheeze, but at least you managed to say something.

That’s when those brilliant eyes snapped back to yours. There was a heartbeat of silence in which you went through a thousand different ‘this is the end’ scenarios in your head-

But then, the demon threw his head back and laughed!

It wasn’t a sinister, cruel laugh either. Instead it was light and, dare you say, joyful. The kind of laugh a loved one would make after you mentioned some inside joke or another. His broad shoulders shook and that tail of his swished behind him in a way that reminded you of a cat ready to play.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he gasped between laughs, “I didn’t mean to scare you that bad!” He leaned back some then, as if to give you some air, though his arms were still on either side of you. “See, that’s just a little act I do to give you humans a scare.” This time, the grin he flashed was playful and a little lopsided. “You have to admit, you kind of deserve it for yanking me out of my cozy little dimension. It’s a little annoying when you don’t expect to be summoned.”

You opened your mouth, now stunned in a completely different way, but no sound was ready to come out yet, apparently.

That didn’t deter the demon, though, his eyes searched your face when he said, “Course, I did want to scare off the others. Groups are always more annoying, and I kinda liked the idea of having you to myself once I saw how cute you are.”

The unexpected statement caused you to come back down from your fearful high a little. You blinked a few times, then found it in yourself to look him in the eyes more directly. You managed to stutter out a “Wha-what?”

The demon laughed again, a shorter one this time, “Wow, I really must have done a number on you, I’m sorry, mesh’la.” He held up a hand, though the black claws at his fingertips almost made you flinch. “I swear, I’m not going to kill you. Even if I was that type of demon, there’s no challenge in killing humans,” he winked, “you’re too soft and supple.”

Heat took over your face and you weren’t sure if it was annoyance, embarrassment, or something else. Probably a cocktail of the three. After a deep, steadying breath, you finally managed to say something more than a strangled noise or single word.

“So, you’re some kind of good demon?”

He shrugged those naked, now very distracting, shoulders. “Something like that. Mostly, I’m just here to fulfill whatever contract you want from me.”

“M-Me?”

“Yup.”

“Why me?”

The demon looked down at you with something…interesting in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite place even though his expression was still light. His hand slid down the ground beside your prone body, until it reached your wrist. He grasped it gently, lifting it to show off your still sore cut.

“Because your blood summoned me. You’re the one I’m bound to, sweetheart.”

Keeping his eyes on yours, he brought your finger to his mouth and closed his lips around the bleeding cut. You found yourself breathless again as a wet tongue ran over the little injury, soothing the ache in a way you didn’t expect.

He pulled your finger out of his mouth with a little pop, then turned that fang flashing smirk on you again. “See, you summoned me, now we make some sort of deal, a contract. You give me something and I give you something in return.” He placed your hand on his naked chest so he could pin his own by your head again. “Name’s Fives, by the way, and you are?”

After swallowing the sudden lump in your throat and not feeling any more calm after doing it, you introduced yourself in the firmest tone you could muster. The demon- Fives, repeated your name slowly, and you could see his tongue tasting every letter of it.

“Hm, I like that name,” he said and again, you caught a glimpse of the spade-tipped tail flicking at his back. 

You must have been more distracted by it than you realized, because he brushed the back of a claw down your cheek, before taking your chin in a firm grip to force your eyes back on his. When you did, his gaze seemed just a little darker.

“So, darling, what kind of deal do you want to make with me?”

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[gothearts]

What's Sera and Adam's relationship like in Heaven? How does it change after he falls?

Post fall is sort of complicated to answer right now given how little I've put out of my au, so you're not going to get the FULL context until I finish putting out all of the characters. I'll do my best to give an abridged explanation ahdshdkjshdskjshskjh Sera was fond of Adam. It's not too far off from canon where she's weary of his behavior, but it's more in the direction of her worrying for just how spiteful he can be, trying to constantly reel him back in and dismiss the negativity. She knows what happens when someone is no longer deemed useful to heaven. She's been through it three times now. He lets the truth of the extermination slip, and she knows that she can no longer save him. He's now become a liability. At that point she would withdraw and refocus her efforts on Emily, as detached as it may seem. She can't dwell for her own well being and ability to uphold her roll in maintaining order. She doesn't know he's in hell. She thinks he's dead. As far as she knows, only angels can fall. Winners have never been slain and Sinners who had previously been reset are reincarnated just to lead the same sinful lives, leading to the notion that a soul cannot be changed, bringing forth the extermination. (There were no attempts to rehabilitate these souls prior, just a reset that still bore scars on the soul from past lives. Like reincarnation.) Adam is gone and Adam has failed, meaning that from what she knows, she'll never see him again. That's what she would respond with whenever Emily would bring it up, using him as a cautionary tale to keep Emily from questioning the will of heaven further. It does tear her up inside. That's four losses now. But she knows that if she cracks and shows the pain she's experiencing, she could be deemed unfit to uphold her role, being cast out too. Seraphiel from the book of Enoch, who she represents in my au, is a seraphim dedicated to the care of those below him. Therefore, so is Sera. She loved Adam as if he were hers, because that's how she views all of God's creation. It's her job to guide and nurture, The loss of Adam likely is the last blow to steel her heart, causing her to have no tolerance for Emily's dreams, deeming it necessary to guide her. It also results in cracking down further on Charlie, doing all she knows how to in order to keep her own people safe. As for Adam, the first betrayal comes when he calls for backup and nobody answers, leading to his demise aka fall. He's in denial at first that Sera hasn't came to save him. He likely has one of those "she's coming, you'll see!" moments that lead to him slowly wearing down as days turn to weeks until he has to accept that he's stuck here and what happened was not a mistake on heaven's behalf. They left him to die. It's a harsh realization that the kingdom you dedicated the last several millennia of your existence to does not hold unconditional love for you, and by extension, neither does Sera despite her intentions. As much as he loved Sera, being at the hotel and experiencing life without the constant pressure of someone expecting you to repress your misplaced anger instead of helping you through it as a true nurturer should, causes him to stop yearning for his own redemption. He's finding it here. Ironically in Hell. Angels only know how to repress because exploration is what lead to Lucifer's own downfall, and every being in heaven lives by that. But here, he gets to work through all the turmoil he's been caused and has caused. And the more he looks back on life on heaven with her, the more he realizes how miserable it was. The memories become bittersweet. The only thing their relationship ends up amounting to, is being the catalyst for him to rise above the future she unintentionally helped push him to succumb to. He can change and finally learn to let go. They will meet again, but that's writing for the future as i'm still fleshing out the first act, and this is like... third act stuff.

[clubdionysus]

MOTHER HOLLY HOLLY HOLLLYYY. I like to think I am an OG as I’ve been reading your works since you had to convince us that Throttle was NOT going to be like Icarus.

Still too traumatized to finish Throttle😭😭 But I know it’s going to be good when I do catch up.

But i HAVE to say, I think you’ve completely out done yourself with this one. Bad Decisions is absolutely insane and I absolutely love it. If this became an actual book in stores, I’d buy the paperback and I only audible novels nowadays😭😭. Even though I still can’t understand the British slang you know in there as an American, I love it solely bc it almost feels like a trademark in all of your stories to incorporate these british words I’ve never heard of even though English is my only language.

We started with You Up being my comfort story to being obsessed Disco Ball and her little buzz lightyear. I LOVE how in almost all your stories (give or take for the couple darker themes) Jungkooks personality is the same to the core, but they’re all still unique to the story line and the female lead is so real. It’s real, the people you create and I love that I can visualize it, feel right there in your stories. Feel involved and understand them.

I just have to express how MUCH i love your writing and BD just so happens to be the best of all time. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it being finished. Although I only just started #57, I wish you could write them FOREVER!!! I don’t know how it will feeel to reread the story bc the FEELINGS you stole from me!!! RUDE!! TOUGH LOVE I GUESS IS YOUR THING.

BUT YOU ALSO ARE SO NASTY!$!!! THESE TWO ARE NASTY!!! I LOVE NASTY!!! I’m starting to think you’re a TI*** gal with the reoccurring themes maam!!

LASTLY im obsessed with the style you write in. Your ability to go from such beautiful descriptive writing to it being so casual, almost as if we are reading their exact thoughts in that exact moment. I love how you can fluidity transition from internal POV to such conviction. It’s fun and amazing at the same time. I definitely think it keeps my short attention span engaged with the conversational/real world writing. Almost as if you are writing transcriptions.

Anyways HOLLY YOU ARE MY FAVORITE AND IVE BEEN READING YOUR STORIES SINCE LIKE 2020 and I’ve LOVED being along in this journey with you and I’m already dreading the ending of BD and don’t want it. But don’t hold off I don’t like that either. EITHER WAY whatever it is will be good, NEVER BEEN disappointed… excepty maybe for the way Byeol isn’t American bc if that nasty red goblin tried it, we would of been in a fight the second she looked at me funny. LOVE FROM TEXAS MISS HOLLY CANT WAIT TO CONTINUE READING YOUR WORK EVEN IF YKU END UP A PUBLISHED AUTHOR

^^ me @ u rn :( waaa so cute!!!!!!

thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!! where to even begin with this ask??!!!!!! firstly, just pls accept the biggest thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts with me!! <3 I know it must have taken a lil while to write all that out!!

im answering under a read more just for the sake of peoples dashboards hehe

LMAO im making edits to the answer bc i reread and have just noticed a few more things - first MOTHER? am I mother???!!! hahaha that's killed me off. in my mother era

I AM SORRY FOR THE ICARUS TRAUMA

.... or am i hehehhee

it's funny because i very nearly killed jimin in throttle to make up for not killing him in icarus LOL but I made a promise I had to keep!! the throttle ending is v tame!!! people were actually disappointed with it LOL but it's a fable!!! a cautionary tale!!!! is the opposite of icarus!!!! it does exactly what it needs to :D

Thank you SO much for your kind words!! bad decisions has been such labour of love, and the response has been so heart warming. you really do get back what you put in, yanno!!

the funny thing is, bd is three-four standard novel long already. if it was a 'real' book, it'd be an entire series hahaha, no publisher would ever pick it up, so it will forever be our special lil fan fic <3

i always try and make sure my jungkooks are close to him in some way shape or form. even slut war jk is gonna be very jk (just more so the eccentric, slightly unhinged side). i think the wonderful thing about having a muse like jungkook is that he just offers up so much of his heart to us fans, and it makes it so easy to write something that feels so 'true' to him. our baby star candy <33

i do think, out of all of my jk's, bd jk is probably the one that draws on his real personality the most, but that's partially because it was written in tandem with all those weverse lives of him being the absolute best boy :(

lmaooooooo, bd jk gets his nastiness from my virgo boy. sigh, i just love virgos <33and re: titties it'ss bc i have arguably the biggest ones known to man </3 life is so hard </3333

ahhh see it's funny, my friends irl who don't know much about my writing always say that whenever they read my writing, its sounds like how I talk, so I definitely think my narrative voice matches my actual voice. it's taken me a while to develop my writing style and its something I'm proud of bc I feel like I've managed to establish a voice that you just *know* is mine.

thank you so so much for this ask. i saw it when it came in, but was in the middle of something at work, and so I have just been thinking about it for the past couple of days with a lil smile on my face. I'm so so grateful to have such kind hearted readers <33

sending love from daegu!!! <33

[strangerobsession]

Permission to Rage

This is entirely self indulgent. Sue me.

April Jenkins OC Bio

Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, minor sexual implications. Mentions of the books 1984 and The Handmaid's Tale (idk if those even need a warning, I'm just being safe)

Word Count: 680

Summery: Eddie and April read a commentary on totalitarian and gender roles and get mad together

Eddie loved reading with his girlfriend.

A couple times a week April would arrive at his trailer with a book in hand. Eddie would whisk her to his room, and offer her a seat on the bed (which was always newly fitted with clean sheets on before she got there). They’d settle in together, Eddie- usually with a blunt or can of beer in hand- sitting with his back against the wall, arms wrapped around April’s waist, who sat between his legs leaning against his chest. 

“I’m continuing on our dystopia theme,” April held up the new book, entitled The Handmaid’s Tale.

“More totalitarianism?” Eddie aske with a slight grimace “I don’t know if I can handle any more of that shit, 1984 had me depressed for days.” 

“Oh this is so much worse.” She assured him. “We’re not oppressing everyone, just the women!”

And so they were. April read the first chapter aloud, Eddie hooking his chin over her shoulder to read along. He could feel her body tensing with every page she turned. When they switched off and Eddie read the second chapter, he couldn’t keep the ironic tone out of his voice.

“Okay, so, I get it, right?” He said suddenly mid paragraph. “I understand the point, I understand the concept, but I can physically feel the rage building up inside me.”

April laughed, nuzzling into his neck. “Me too,” She admitted.

“Why do you force me to read these infuriating things?” Eddie burst out incredulously. “They’re making me mad!”

“Because they make you think! I figured you’d at least like 1984, it’s literally a cautionary tale against mass forced conformity and the absence of personal freedom.”

“I did like it, but it also made me irrationally angry. This is making me irrationally angry”

“I would argue that it’s more than rational to be angry about a concept like this.”

“I guess," Eddie chewed his lip, guilt scrawled across his features. "But now I feel bad."

“Why?” April brushed his hair out of his face.

“Because you seemed genuinely interested and passionate in this, and I don’t wanna ruin it with my random outbursts.” His voice quavered and he shrugged his shoulders, eyes cast to the ground.

“Have you not met me? I love your random outbursts!” She poked his shoulder teasingly. “And getting angry means that you’re passionate about it, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah." She gently hooked a finger under his chin to force him to look at her. "It’s also kinda doing something for me.”

“Is it?” Eddie rubbed his hands up and down her arms, a roguish smile growing across his face as his confidence rose.

“Nothing’s sexier than your man showing genuine passion about the things you’re interested in.” April agreed, shrugging almost bashfully.

“Hey, I mean, you sat through me and my Lord of the Rings nonsense. This is the least I can do.”

“I liked Lord of the Rings,” April insisted, shifting in Eddie’s arms to pout up at him. “It’s just hard to get through those books.”

“Which is why I read them to you.”

“Mm-hmm.” April set The Handmaid’s Tale aside, and turned fully in his arms so she could face him. “I’ve also learned something just now.”

“And that is?”

“You are a raging feminist.” She held his face in her hand, trailing her lips across his brow. “And it’s incredibly hot.”

Eddie laughed at that, pulling her into a hug. "Shocker, huh? The scary metal-loving freak respects women."

“I'm serious, your attractiveness has increased at least forty percent in the past fifteen minutes.” April replied through giggles.

He laughed harder, kissing her again and again. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my hot feminist boyfriend.”

Eddie picked the book back up, flipping to the page they’d left off on. “If we keep going, do I have your permission to rage as much as I want?”

“Permission granted, Munson.”

“Excellent.” He kissed April again as she shifted back to her original position with her back to his chest. “Then I’ll continue on, my hot feminist girlfriend.”

[snap-blogz]

Jamie Lee Curtis Books: A Wonderland for Every Mood

Let's embark on a delightful journey through the enchanting realm of Jamie Lee Curtis books, where every page unfolds a world of emotions and self-discovery.

Today I Feel Silly: And Other Moods That Make My Day

 Jump into the rollercoaster of moods with "Today I Feel Silly." Jamie Lee Curtis's book invites kids and parents to enjoy a whimsical exploration of feelings, reminding us that "Feelings are just like the weather; they come and go." To buy Click on image:

I'm Gonna Like Me: Letting Off a Little Self-Esteem

Boost self-esteem with "I'm Gonna Like Me." Jamie Lee Curtis's book encouraging words inspire children to embrace and celebrate their uniqueness, reassuring them that "It's okay to like yourself – in fact, it's great!" To buy Click on image:

It's Hard to Be Five: Learning How to Work My Control Panel

 Navigate the challenges of being five in "It's Hard to Be Five." Jamie Lee Curtis's book playfully guides young readers through this transformative age, offering comfort with humor and understanding. To buy Click on image:

Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born

 In "Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born," Jamie Lee Curtis's book beautifully weaves the story of adoption, emphasizing the love and joy that come with family. This heartwarming tale is a celebration of identity and belonging. To buy Click on image:

Big Words for Little People

 Expand vocabulary and curiosity with "Big Words for Little People." Jamie Lee Curtis's book introduces young minds to the power of language, making learning an exciting adventure. As she aptly states, "Words are like magic spells. Use them well." To buy Click on image:

When I Was Little: A Four-Year-Old's Memoir of Her Youth

Step into the shoes of a four-year-old in "When I Was Little." Jamie Lee Curtis's book, with charm and humor, takes readers on a nostalgic journey, capturing the innocence and wonder of early childhood. To buy Click on image:

Is There Really a Human Race?

Address profound questions in "Is There Really a Human Race?" Jamie Lee Curtis's book provokes thought with her poignant words, urging readers to ponder, "What's the hurry? Why the rush?" To buy Click on image:

Where Do Balloons Go? An Uplifting Mystery

 Embark on an imaginative adventure with "Where Do Balloons Go?" Jamie Lee Curtis's book sparks curiosity about life's mysteries, leaving readers with a sense of wonder. As she playfully asks, "Do they ever feel guilty for floating away?" To buy Click on image:

My Brave Year of Firsts: Tries, Sighs, And High Fives

 Celebrate milestones with "My Brave Year of Firsts." Jamie Lee Curtis's book shares the excitement of new experiences, encouraging children to embrace challenges. After all, as she puts it, "Tries, sighs, and high fives make life an adventure." To buy Click on image:

This Is Me: A Story of Who We Are and Where We Came From

 In "This Is Me," Jamie Lee Curtis's book explores identity and heritage, fostering a sense of belonging. This thoughtful narrative encourages children to appreciate their roots and embrace diversity.

My Mommy Hung the Moon

 Cherish the special bond between parent and child in "My Mommy Hung the Moon." Jamie Lee Curtis's book captures the magic of a mother's love, beautifully expressed in her words, "Moms are the best at making things feel better." To buy Click on image:

Jamie Lee Curtis's Books to Grow By Treasury

"Jamie Lee Curtis's Books to Grow By Treasury" promises a rich collection of wisdom, nurturing the minds of young readers. Keep an eye out for its return! To buy Click on image:

Me, Myselfie & I: A Cautionary Tale

 Discover the reflections on our digital era with "Me, Myselfie & I." Jamie Lee Curtis's book engages readers in a witty exploration of the selfie phenomenon, urging us to ponder the consequences of our digital self-obsession. With a humorous touch, Jamie Lee Curtis's book invites us to strike a balance in our tech-infused lives. To buy Click on image:

Mother Nature (My opinion top of Jamie Lee Curtis books)

Embark on an ecological adventure in "Mother Nature." Jamie Lee Curtis's book passionately unveils environmental consciousness, inspiring a genuine love for nature. Through this timely masterpiece, Curtis advocates for the preservation of our planet, emphasizing its importance for the well-being of generations to come. To buy Click on image:

The Jamie Lee Curtis CD Audio Collection

The allure of "The Jamie Lee Curtis CD Audio Collection" promises an immersive auditory experience. Curtis's distinctive voice breathes life into her enchanting stories, offering a valuable auditory journey for young listeners. Stay tuned for the return of this captivating collection. To buy Click on image:

As we traverse this literary odyssey, Jamie Lee Curtis books distinguish themselves not only through captivating tales but also through the profound life lessons they convey. Infused with humor, warmth, and genuine relatability, Jamie Lee Curtis books crafts a fantastical realm where readers of all ages can embark on a journey of exploration, learning, and personal growth. Allow these books to accompany you on a voyage of discovery and joy. If you want to check Jamie Lee Curtis reaction opinion on Her 13th Children’s Book click here Read the full article

[ljsstories]

Chapter Seventeen: A Glimpse Into The Future

"I hear you made a friend!" Jenna smiled at Jensen as they sat down for their latest session.

"I have?" What was she talking about?

"Yes, you've been spending a lot of time with a certain Mr. Ellis?" Ah, now he knew what she meant.

"Well he was spending time with me; I try to keep my head down in here so that I can get out ASAP!" Jenna frowned slightly, then it was gone, replaced with a small smile.

"He's been at this a lot longer than you; you really could benefit from his expertise."

"With all due respect? He's in here isn't he? Not sure how much expertise he can offer at this point!" Jensen scoffed and looked away, it was true that he'd been chatting with nineties teen heartthrob, Landon Ellis during the last couple of mealtimes but it was merely chit chat and nothing more.

"Mr. Ellis is in here of his own free will, it's something he does every five years or so. His story is not dissimilar to yours!" He'd heard this all before, in fact when he first started out the tabloids were calling him the new Landon Ellis, even more so when Jensen formed his own band, like Ellis had. "He started out as an actor; he got his big break in a teen drama in the nineties then got lucky with his movie roles. He started a band that was mildly successful, he even won an Oscar like you but he's never really been happy." Was this a cautionary tale? Take rehab seriously or end up just like lonely and sad Landon Ellis? There was no doubt about it, the dude was sad and lonely. Why else would he book himself into this place every half a decade? Another thing that Landon was famous for were his photographs, he owned a gallery and sold them to those and such as those. He was no Dexter Maloney in the artistic department, but he had a way with a camera, he was practically a recluse now. He didn't act or perform with his band anymore, he just sat in the dark room in his home developing his masterpieces. Jensen heard through his agent that Landon would pass over movie role after movie role, some of them went on to be huge with other actors. Why he turned down all of these offers was anyone's guess, he just seemed content to rot away all alone in his massive house in the middle of nowhere with no one to talk to...except he had talked to Jensen, a lot! In fact Jensen couldn't get the dude to shut up, he would rave on about how green the grass was in the grounds and how beautiful the trees were when they swayed in the breeze, he was completely cuckoo.

"Yeah I heard it all before, I'm just lending the guy an ear, he's got a lot to say about nature that's for sure!" Jensen crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling.

"All I'm saying is that Landon Ellis has been passed off as crazy when he is anything but! What would you say if I told you that this whole eccentric multi-millionaire photographer persona is all an act?" Jensen wouldn't be surprised, he'd had some wild personas himself in the past, most of them down to his former toxic manager.

"Look I don't really know what the guy's deal is, nor do I care, I just wanna get outta here so that I can reform my band and get to work!" Jenna sighed and cocked her head to the side.

"Jensen, before we talk about Jane and the abduction again I'm going to give you a little bit of homework..." Oh great, "...I would like you to spend more time with Mr. Ellis, listen to what he has to say, talk to him about your own experiences. I promise you won't be disappointed, there's more to him than meets the eye!" During that session, they talked about his first week at the cottage and how he was suffering badly with withdrawals, how Jane took good care of him and how he felt scared for the first day or two but then he began to trust and depend on her. It was a long and tiring discussion, one where Jenna seemed to chop and change from defending Jensen then defending Jane. She was the ultimate Devil's Advocate. Jensen decided to go ahead with the homework assignment that Jenna had given him, become rehab buddies with Landon Ellis. After making small talk at dinner time, Landon went out into the grounds and sat on the grass, looking up at the sky. Feeling a little self-conscious, Jensen joined him reluctantly.

"So..." He began as he sat down beside him on the grass, "...my therapist seems to think that this whole weirdo recluse schtick is all an act!" Landon looked down from the sky and straight at Jensen, his piercing blue eyes cutting through him like the sharpest blade, "Is she right?" Jensen stuttered as Landon continued to stare, licking his lips slowly as if he was studying Jensen intensely. It was like looking at himself in ten years, they really were very alike. Both of them had worked hard to get where they were, both of them were passed off as talentless pretty boys when they first started out and had to prove their worth in the cutthroat world that was Hollywood.

"Isn't life just one big act my friend?" What the fuck did that mean? He was still eyeballing him; it was completely trippy. Sitting there looking like a homeless Jesus who had just stepped out of Woodstock, with his long brown hair and bushy beard.

"Why don't you do movies anymore? You were damn good!" Landon took in a slow, deep breath then an even longer one out, eyes closed and smiling.

"You seem to ask a lot of questions for someone who just wants to get the fuck outta here ASAP! Wasn't that what you said to me last night before dinner?" Opening his eyes again and directing another intense stare in Jensen's direction, a smirk formed at the side of his mouth. When Jensen didn't answer him, he closed his eyes once again and threw his head back towards the sky, "Acting doesn't satisfy me anymore, nothing really does except..." He trailed off then lay down on the grass, "...you know, if you're not careful you'll die all alone! Nobody wants that, trust me!" Landon had a soft, lazy voice that sounded like he was imparting the secrets of the universe. He seemed completely relaxed and comfortable in his own skin; Jensen wondered what that was like. "The truth is...that I found my happiness the moment I quit acting, the moment I hung up my guitar and stopped performing like a circus monkey!"

"But you had your pick of movies, you made music under your own terms, you had it all!" Landon smiled, eyes still closed and hands clasped across his chest.

"I have it all now, you see I made a conscious decision a long time ago to keep my private life exactly that..." Was it just Jensen or was this conversation going round in circles and making no sense whatsoever? "...private!" Landon nodded then waved a hand, "There comes a time in every circus monkey's life when they no longer wanna perform for the masses, they wanna fly away and concentrate on their own happiness! I did that, I found my happiness in photography..." He sat up and crossed his legs, giving Jensen one of his intense stares, "...and family! I'm going to tell you something, something that nobody outside of my family and friends and trusted associates knows!" What was this secret? Was it the secret to being eternally happy? Why was Jensen buying any of this shit? "I met someone, she wasn't a movie star or a pop singer or a model...she was just a girl sitting on a park bench in Italy reading a book that was close to my heart!" Jensen's mouth involuntarily gaped open at the mention that Landon Ellis, notorious forty something bachelor, had met a girl and looked blissfully happy. The man who had once said that he was terminally unsatisfied with life, love and his career. "She was just sitting there, fresh faced with no makeup, reading this book and I felt so drawn to her, like if I didn't go over and talk to her I would die! She was so beautiful to me, I was mesmerised by her and when she said her name...Sarah, it sounded like the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard!" Landon's story was eerily familiar to Jensen, the moment he heard Jane say her name was truly a goosebumps moment for him. "She wasn't Italian, she was Canadian, I kept thinking what are the chances of us both vacationing in Italy at that exact same time? It was the universe sending me a message, that I wasn't supposed to be alone! I was forty five when I met her and she was thirty eight. Like me she'd given up on love, she was just living her life to the fullest and accepting her fate when I sat down next to her on that bench and quoted a line from the book...and we've been together ever since!" How did Jensen not know this? How did the media not know this? How had he kept it secret all this time? As if Landon was reading his mind he nodded and smiled, "You're wondering how I managed to hide Sarah from the public, it's easy. Everyone who works for me signs an NDA, it's common knowledge that I have an assistant called Sarah, she's actually my wife and we have a son together. If you pay certain media outlets enough to stay off your back while feeding them little bits of your weird life, they tend to honour that agreement. My son doesn't know what daddy does, he thinks I take pictures for a living and he's not wrong. Sarah is pregnant again, that's why I'm here, when I feel overwhelmed I come here and I try to work it out. My addiction is work, touring and taking on roles that completely change my appearance and my personality. I can't go back to that, not now that I have a family, I don't have enough to do both. I'm a ride or die kinda guy!" He laughed softly and rubbed the blades of grass under his feet gently, shaking his head, "Well, I don't need to tell you what that's like, do I kiddo?"

"I've found my Sarah!" Landon nodded at Jensen knowingly, obviously he knew all about it.

"Yeah, you wrote a whole album about her. That must have really fucked with her head! Dick move brother, really dick move!" What did he mean?

"What do you know?" Jensen blurted out defensively, he was always so defensive when it came to Jane.

"I know a lot kid, a lot! I was you! Anything you say to me won't be a surprise, whatever you've done I did decades before you! There does come a time when the work isn't enough, you've put all your eggs in the one basket and that was a mistake!" Why did he have to be so fucking cryptic, why did he speak so slowly like he was on the best drugs he'd ever had? "You can't bullshit me little man, I had a Jane once and I scared her away just like you're doing now!"

"How? How do I not do that?" Jensen asked him pleadingly.

"Like I said, I'm a ride or die kinda guy. I went where the ride took me and any chance I had with her died! Don't be that guy my friend, don't be me!"

"So you're like my mentor now? You're here to lead me down the one true path or something?" Jensen chuckled mockingly. Landon seemed unfazed by Jensen's scepticism.

"I'm the ghost of Christmas past, present and future my friend, I've seen and done it all! But if you don't wanna listen to me or to Doctor Riley? Then keep following the dark tunnel! Keep on drowning in the sea of despair!" More cryptic shit, why did no one just speak plainly around here? "Jensen Reed, men want to be him and women want to fuck him! It's like watching a replay of my own life, it's tragic!" He shook his head, smiling sadly. "I got lucky, I lost my first Jane, but another one came along when I least expected her. It doesn't always happen that way, maybe you won't get that lucky, maybe you will, who knows!" Landon shrugged and stood up, "Anyway, I check out at the end of the week, but my door is always open for you brother. I only wish that I had someone who'd been there, done that and got the t-shirt when I was your age. Things could have been so much easier for me!" And just like that, Landon Ellis was gone, blended in with the bushes and trees. What a guy!

"So did you do that homework I set you?" Jenna asked him the following day.

"Yeah I did, he's an interesting dude to say the least!" Jenna nodded and smiled wryly.

"I told you he had a lot to offer, he's very wise and he's helped me to get through to a few young men like yourself. The best thing that ever happened to Landon was becoming a father, his son Ethan is the double of him. He comes in and talks to me about his family sometimes, even though I'm not his designated therapist, we go back a long way." Jenna's smile widened as if she was reliving her past memories, "His wife is expecting a girl and he's pretty stressed over that!"

"I didn't think it was humanely possible for that guy to get stressed, he's so laid back it's annoying!" Jensen laughed as Jenna agreed with him.

"He has his moments, being a father to a little girl is his biggest challenge yet. He'll maybe tell you about it if you want, somehow I don't think you and he are quite finished...are you?" She winked at him and picked up her notepad from the table, pen poised and ready to begin.

***

Eliza and Jonah were video chatting again when Jane arrived back from the supermarket. This was the only time she would leave the house, to get food and try to find creative ways to fatten up her mother. She would race around the shops though, and make sure she wasn't longer that two hours. As soon as Eliza spotted Jane coming in laden with bags, she cut her conversation with Jonah short and slammed the lid of her laptop down, running towards her sister to help her. "You didn't need to do that; you could have talked to him for a bit longer!"

"No, he's just ranting about his brother!"

"Is he still not over that?" Jane tutted as she threw one of the bags onto the centre island, "It's been two weeks!"

"He keeps saying that he hates him for taking him away from me, I've never known a grown man to cry as much as Jonah does, honestly it's...weird!"

"Americans are weird Liza, serves you right for getting involved with one and not just any American, a famous one at that!" Jane chuckled and started putting away the shopping.

"The heart wants what the heart wants Janey!" Eliza's words cut through her, she had no idea why, but they seemed to give her chills. Shaking away the feeling she answered her sister rather abruptly.

"Doesn't make it right, head over heart I say!"

"Och Janey that's a terribly cynical attitude! Have you thought about what I asked you?" Oh that, no she didn't have to, there was no way she was talking to Jensen Reed ever again! He was a selfish, impulsive creep who had no right to occupy Jane or Eliza's minds anymore! After what he'd done, the timing of it, Jane could never forgive him!

"Did you give mum her pills?" Changing the subject, good move.

"Yes, so have you?" Eliza was persistent, she really was!

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mention that person in my presence. I accept the fact that you're in love with his brother but that doesn't mean we have to acknowledge him! Does it?" Eliza sighed and threw herself down on a chair.

"Janey he is a part of our lives whether you like it or not. Mum asks about him every day; she wonders how that poor boy is coping. If she can think about him, then so can you!"

"Are you sure she's not referring to your poor boy? The one that had to leave because of this whole fucking drama?"

"Fucking drama?" Eliza parroted, her face aghast, "Janey he nearly died! What part of that are you not getting? The man could have died!" Tears stained her cheeks as Jane struggled to feel anything for Jensen Reed, selfish twat of Hollywood. Wrapping her arms around her sister, trying to comfort her, she allowed her mind to go back to that night again. She was scared for him then, when she heard him slurring his words she felt an ache in her heart, and when he hung up on her she would be lying if she said she wasn't devastated as well as terrified for his safety. Was that why she was so angry with him? What was she really angry about? She had convinced herself it was because he chose to have this meltdown while her mother was dying and she had enough in her life to cope with. He had chosen to do this to her, after she had lost Will, while she was losing her mother...but nobody chose to have a meltdown, Jane of all people should have known this, should have empathised with him. Hadn't she gone through similar feelings herself? Wasn't that the reason why she had abducted Jensen Reed in the first place? She knew full well that when someone felt this way there was no reasoning with them, they were not thinking rationally. "Janey please talk to him. He's saving some phone time for you! Let me give him your number or at least let him call the house!" Eliza mumbled into her shoulder, "Do it for me?" Jane sighed and reluctantly agreed to speak with that dickhead, if only to get her sister and his brother off of her back.

"Hello? Jane? Are you there?" She didn't know how to speak to him, it was as if her vocal chords closed up the moment Eliza handed her the phone. His voice gave her shivers, that beautiful voice, he sounded healthy. He'd been in rehab for two weeks; she had held onto this hatred for a fortnight and now she didn't know what to say. "Please talk to me?" She had been holding the phone for roughly ten seconds, it felt like ten minutes, but still she couldn't gather up the courage to speak. "I just wanna hear your voice, please!"

"I'm here!" Once again her voice didn't sound like her own.

"Oh, hi! How are you? How's your mom?" Like he didn't already know, he'd have been grilling Eliza or Jonah before this.

"What do you want?" She wasn't going to let him off that easily, didn't he realise what he'd done?

"Jane please don't be like this, I-I'm working through things. Things I should have worked through way before this. I promise you..." Before he could finish Jane's voice had come back with a vengeance.

"How could you?" Hot tears stung her cheeks as she choked back a sob, "How could you do that? How could you be so selfish?" She could tell that she'd stunned him into silence, she could hear his breathing on the other end.

"Jane..."

"You were going to leave me here all alone!" Eliza came through from the back room having heard her sister shouting, "You were going to leave me!"

"Janey?" Eliza tried to take the phone from her but she pulled away roughly, she wasn't finished with him yet.

"You just hung up on me, you just hung up!"

"I wasn't going to kill myself, that wasn't what I was going to do! It was an accident I...Jane...I would never..."

"Well guess what? I'm hanging up on you this time!" Jane slammed the phone into its dock and ran to the stairs, up into her bedroom where he couldn't touch her, where he couldn't hurt her anymore. Eliza's soft knock followed a few minutes later and she let herself in, not even waiting for an invitation.

"Janey are you okay? What did he say to you?" Jane lay on her bed, weeping. Now she knew why she was so angry with him, now she knew why she hated him.

"He was going to just leave me here, to deal with everything on my own!"

"Janey you're not alone, you have me and Louise and..." Eliza sat down on the bed and stroked Jane's hair, scraping it gently out of her eyes as she just cried, not caring that she was finally taking off her mask and showing her sister how vulnerable and broken she truly was.

"You don't understand!" Of course she didn't, if Jensen died that would leave Jane to carry the guilt of what she had done all by herself. No one else in the entire world would know what had happened, they would no longer be bound together by a secret, by a crime that she committed. Surely that would have been a good thing, it would get her off the hook. No victim, no crime! Why did it hurt so much to think of Jensen Reed no longer living? Wasn't that what she wanted two years ago when she couldn't stand him? "He never thought about me when he did it! He never once thought what it would do to me if..."

"You wouldn't even talk to him, of course he didn't think about you in that way. He probably thought you wouldn't care if he died or not. Janey let's be honest here, you haven't exactly been very friendly towards him have you?" What was she talking about? Was it not obvious that she would be completely torn apart if Jensen died? Could no one see how much he meant to her? Of course they couldn't, because she had kept that part hidden away, even from the one she cared for the most...Jensen Reed!

"Because it hurts too much!" Jane whispered, "It hurts too much to..." Eliza lay down to face her and blinked knowingly, she knew.

"Jane? Do you love him?" What a question, of course she didn't love him she...did she? Was it love? Or was it just the connection they made at the cottage, the secrets they told one another and the mutual frustrations they had over their siblings. Spending ten days with someone would leave a mark, but it wasn't necessarily love! It couldn't be! "It's okay if you do, he's very loveable! It must be in the genes!" Eliza laughed softly and stroked a tear away from Jane's cheek. "You know how he feels about you, so what's the problem? Jonah and I make it work, so can you!"

"I don't though, know how he feels! If he cared even just a tiny bit he would never do what he did!"

"Janey you're thinking with emotion, put on your psychologist hat for just one minute and see it from that point of view!"

"I am!" Jane protested; she always did!

"No you're not, you're letting your feelings get in the way because...you love him! See it from his point of view, his sister and mother were on his back and Jonah was over here with us. It all just got too much and he fell off the wagon, he didn't mean to end his life, he just wanted the pain to stop! Does it sound at all familiar?" Maybe Jane should have given her degree certificate to Eliza, she seemed to be much better at it than she was. "He's doing something about it, he's dealing with his addiction and he's trying to be a better person!" Eliza continued to stroke Jane's hair soothingly, "I think he's doing it for you Janey, I really do!"

"He has to do it for himself, or it won't work!" Jane sighed and sat up, wiping her face dry.

"See? There's Doctor Jane! He is doing it for himself, of course he is. Did you know he met Landon Ellis in there?" Jane looked over at her sister with wide eyes.

"Landon Ellis??? The guy who was Jensen Reed before Jensen Reed was Jensen Reed?"

"That's the one, although I shouldn't really have told you that and Jonah shouldn't have told me that, there's like so much super secrecy in rehab but I know you won't tell anyone. Anyway, he's apparently a really cool guy who Jensen has taken quite a shine to in there."

"Well considering he's been compared to him throughout his whole career, it would make sense that they'd have some things in common. Their backgrounds are scary similar!" Jane had forgotten all about how upset she'd been only moments ago, Landon Ellis and Jenna Riley! Jensen really had timed his rehab stint perfectly.

"So, are you going to tell me what upset you during that phone call? He's been so excited to speak to you, I'm sure he didn't mean anything..."

"It was me!" Jane waved a hand at Eliza before she could finish, "I completely lost it, I'm actually really embarrassed now. Mind you it's nothing he hasn't seen before!" Eliza looked at her with a puzzled face.

"When..."

"When he came to the hospital, I was a mess!" She recovered well, it frightened her how easily lies came to her these days.

"Janey you know he would understand about that, and about this too! He cared so much he turned his plane around for you!"

"Yeah-yeah, so you keep saying. I didn't ask him to!" Eliza gave her a disapproving glower.

"You didn't have to; he did because he loves you!" Oh there was that word again, how could he possibly love her after what she'd done? She'd been so wrapped up in the phone call that she'd forgotten about her mum downstairs.

"Eliza! Mum!"

"Dad's sitting with her, I told him that you were expecting a phone call from Jensen. Both mum and dad like him, you know that I do, why don't you give him a chance Janey? What have you got to lose?" Everything, Jane thought to herself, her dignity for one thing. There was no room for romance right now, repeating her mantra in her head, her mum came first!

"Eliza I think it's great that you've found someone and that you're happy, but it's just not going to happen for me. I don't deserve a happy ending after everything I've done!"

"What have you done Janey? Except care for everyone but yourself? Why are you so down on yourself? I know that I was a bitch before and I never truly said I was sorry, I didn't mean any of it I was just trying to be someone I'm not. I know who you are now Janey, I know what you are...you're amazing and I love you! It hurts to hear you belittle yourself like that!" Jane stood up and headed for the stairs.

"Well I need to get back to mum so..." Eliza followed her down the stairs.

"I think you need to talk to Jensen again, there are things you both need to get off of your chests!" What a disastrous idea, the best thing to do would be to just ignore it and hope it went away...hope Jensen Reed went away! "It would go a long way with his recovery too!" Where did she get that from? Was this a set-up?

"Well that's what the professionals are for, that's what fancy expensive rehab is for! He's in good hands!" No more talk of Jensen Reed, she had things to do.

Jane's plan to no longer talk about Jensen was a nonstarter, her mother would talk about nothing else, "I hope that boy is doing okay, did you have a nice chat with him Janey?"

"Yes, he's fine."

"He's such a nice lad, he came to see me at the hospital!"

"Yes mum I know, I was there!" Jane's patience was wearing thin these days, lack of sleep and a constant fear of losing her mother were the causes. Snapping at her mother however was the side effect.

"Liza said he came all the way from Austria just to visit, what a lovely boy!" Jane shot up from the chair and faced her mother who was lying on her bed.

"No mum, he's not lovely! He's a complete and utter selfish bastard who decided that killing himself was the solution to all of his problems! He didn't care who he was hurting or leaving behind, he just thought about himself as usual!" Monica looked up at Jane with her big blue eyes, blinking in surprise several times.

"Janey, the boy was hurting!" Everything her mother and sister said to her lately was like a red rag to a bull.

"He was hurting? What about me? How could he do this to me? That's not love, if you love someone you stick it out for them and you think of their feelings as well as your own! He didn't do that; he knew I was stressed out with everything that's going on and he just added to my stress! I don't need this shit mum; I just don't need it!" Jane didn't know she had any more tears left to cry, but they came tumbling down again at the thought of Jensen lying half dead in a pool of his own blood. The last thing he said to her before he hung up on her, sayonara, how was she supposed to feel about that? Did he even care? Selfish, selfish little man!!!

"Janey, sweetheart..." There was the old mum she had missed so much, "...he's not selfish he's human! He made a mistake, have you never made a mistake? Have you never regretted something you did in the heat of the moment?" Yes, she had, she tried so very hard to pay for it but Jensen wouldn't let her. Well she was going to make Jensen pay for his!

***

"Jensen come on; we've come a long way! Don't let that all be for nothing! Why won't you talk today?"

"Sometimes I just don't feel like talking, is that allowed?"

"Well of course it's allowed, but it's not conducive to your therapy. I can't work with silence. Why don't you tell me what's bothering you then?" Jenna was a pushy little shrink! Jensen didn't want to talk, his phone conversation with Jane had hurt him, badly! He sat for a few more minutes, saying nothing, then he finally told Jenna what the problem was.

"I talked to Jane yesterday, she let me have it!" Jensen sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry.

"She let you have what Jensen?" All these questions, why?

"She was really angry with me, for hanging up the phone on her that night, if I didn't know any better I'd say she actually cared!" He scoffed and looked out the window behind Jenna, "She said something odd!"

"Odd how?"

"She said, you were going to leave me here all alone, I'm so confused!" He shook his head as if to clear it, frowning down at the ugly carpet in Jenna's office.

"She cares about you, all this time you thought she didn't but it sounds like you really frightened her that night, she cared enough to be scared Jensen. I think she's angry at you because you two shared an experience together, just the two of you and the thought of you dying was too much for her."

"She was really mad!" Jensen nodded in disbelief, "She was crying, it-it hurt to hear her cry. It hurts me when she cries, it always has!" Jenna smiled and closed her eyes.

"Yes, you told me how it made you feel to hear her cry the night you sang to her. You must have helped her then because she stopped crying, didn't she?"

"Yeah, I asked Eliza about the song and she told me that Travis was one of her favourite bands, I picked it out of thin air, partly because the band is Scottish and partly because it has a nice melody." Jensen smiled off into the distance, recalling that memory. "She loves that song, so do I! There are so many coincidences between us, I feel like it was fate that she stole me away that night, I don't see it as a bad thing and I know you told me that I should but how can I? I met Jane through it, how can that be bad? When I think of her I think good thoughts, I feel good! Again I ask you, how can it be so bad?"

"It isn't, had it not been for the small detail of her locking you up, it would never have been a bad thing. I do believe that she was good for you, I just maintain that the method was very wrong, I have to tell you this as your therapist. I cannot condone abduction, nor can I sit by and allow someone to suffer from Stockholm Syndrome, which I am still yet to determine with you. You're a tough nut to crack Jensen Reed, I really do have my work cut out with you!" She wagged a finger lazily at him with a wry smile on her face.

"Sorry." He mumbled, his cheeks glowing red with embarrassment. Last week he wouldn't have cared, but now it was different. Landon Ellis had given him a glimpse into the future, Jensen didn't want to still be chasing Jane in his forties, he wanted to get this right. He was taking his therapy very seriously, especially now after that phone call. Did Jane care? She must have cared, the raw emotion in her voice was hard to miss, she cared alright! That was the tiny little spark of hope that Jensen was going to cling onto, he was going to get through this, he was going to be there for Jane like he should have been long before now, like Jonah had been.

"Oh don't be sorry, you're the client us therapists dream about, someone we can't work out but are willing to put in the hours to try. Jensen, we will get there, if you're willing to do the work too?"

"Yes, yes I am!"

"Well that's all I need to hear. Now, I want you to go back to the phone call and don't leave anything out, we need to assess how that made you feel. We also need to analyse Jane's words and her tone of voice so that you can try to make amends, because I'm pretty sure that's the first thing on your mind isn't it?" Jensen nodded shyly, head down looking at his thighs, rubbing his hands up and down them. "Well then, talk me through it!"

"She's the real deal that one!" The unmistakable lazy voice of Landon Ellis suddenly echoed in Jensen's ear.

"What the fuck dude? Whistle or something will you? You came outta nowhere!" Jensen's reaction seemed to amuse Landon as he closed his eyes and threw his head back in silent laughter.

"You are wound so tight my friend; you know there's this silent retreat..."

"Oh no, not you too!" Jensen groaned, "Dexter Maloney would not stop going on about that place!"

"Oh really? So he took my advice? Good man, I've still got it! You were beginning to make me doubt myself, you're a stubborn S.O.B!" Another finger wagging for Jensen, but this time it was much lazier, like Landon's voice his entire being worked in slow motion. "So what's the good Doctor been helping you with today young man?"

"Um, that's confidential!"

"Oh c'mon, tell your old pal Landy!" Landon threw himself down on one of the couches in the day room and clasped his hands behind his head, staring up at Jensen with a smirk on his still youthful face.

"Well I got to talk to Jane and...well it didn't go so well!" Landon rolled his eyes up to the ceiling still smirking.

"You had your bender, what, two weeks ago?" Jensen replied with a nod, "You expect her to be all hunky dory after that? The last time we talked about her, you said you couldn't remember what you said to her before blacking out, you said you couldn't even remember that you talked to her. Could you possibly have said something, oh I dunno, inappropriate? Because if it was me, that would be a definite possibility, I've got this disease called foot in mouth? Not the bovine variety, no, this one is exclusive to human beings who can't keep their trap shut!" Landon giggled impishly as if he was thinking back to many things he had said in the past that were unacceptable.

"I might have, I was pretty drunk! Maybe I could ask my brother, if he'll stay on the phone long enough. He's pissed at me right now for taking him away from his girlfriend, who happens to be Jane's sister!" Landon opened his mouth in an O shape and nodded his head slowly, like everything he did, it was in slow motion.

"You live a complicated life my friend, keep it simple! Live, laugh, love, eat, sleep, fuck, ummmmm, love!"

"You said love already!" Jensen sighed.

"Yeah? Well you can never have enough love brother, never have enough love!" Landon patted the couch gesturing for Jensen to sit, this he also did very slowly. Was this guy really that chill? Or was this another act? "Take a load off, tell me what she said to you that's got you wound so tight, let's try to loosen those knots!" Jensen threw himself down beside him and let out a huge breath.

"Well, she said that I was going to leave her here all alone, she was pissed that I hung up on her. She didn't mention any inappropriate talk, but then again we didn't talk for long before she hung up on me!" Landon grimaced and shook his head.

"Gah, keep it simple! Why with all the hanging up and the leaving? Chill out peeps!" Still shaking his head, almost falling off the couch he was so laid back, Landon tugged gently on his long beard, "Jensen, my protégé! Love is hard, but that's why it's fun! When you just sit back and relax, it's easy, and that is also fun. In conclusion, love is fun in general! I used to think that it was a mad, toxic emotion but I am older and wiser now. I no longer look at the world through a dark veil, I put on my rose coloured glasses and I thank the universe for my life and my wife...oh look at that, I can still rhyme, ha ha!"

"What the fuck are you on dude? How can you be so, so calm???"

"Oh I tell them my anxiety is at DEFCON 1 every time I check in and they give me Zoloft, man it's cool!"

"I was on that but it never really worked, all it did was make me impotent!" Landon let out a high pitched laugh, it was funny to him, father of two, jerk!

"Are you sure it was the meds? Sometimes these things are all in the mind!" He pointed his finger to his temple and tapped it several times to get his point across.

"I don't know, all I know is that I had no urges whatsoever, except when..." Jensen trailed off, thinking about that day when he was in the shower and thought that Jane was ogling him. That was a bit of excitement for him, but then again he wasn't on the Zoloft then, he was completely clean and feeling quite good.

"Except when what little man? When you were thinking about Jane?" Landon winked, "Is she the only girl that gets your motor running? Is that it?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah. My sister set me up so many times with a bunch of women and I was just not interested. One was a Victoria's Secret model with these long legs and...nothing! I felt absolutely nothing!"

"Conversation my friend, it is the best aphrodisiac! It's also the sexiest thing you can do with a woman, converse!" He lay his palms up to the sky and gave Jensen a side glance. "I dated so many gorgeous women, I should have been very happy but there was something missing. I only found out what that was when I met Sarah, it's being able to talk for hours and never get bored. It's those little conversations about nothing that mean so much, if you have endless topics but are still comfortable being silent with one another then you have struck gold buddy! You've won the compatibility lottery!" Jensen could talk to Jane for hours; their silent moments were comfortable and soothing. In his eyes, she was his lottery prize. "If you can't talk, you've got nothing my friend, you might as well marry the first vacuous tramp that falls onto your dick! You need to stimulate the most important organ in a relationship and it's not in your pants, if your brain is not getting hard then you're gonna be miserable, trust me!" Jensen couldn't believe how much talking with Landon was actually helping, even though he was high on anti-anxiety meds that he didn't need and was in a rehab facility he didn't need to be in, he made a lot of sense. Jensen didn't mind being his protégé, he had a lot to learn from the guy. "Anyway!" Landon patted Jensen's knee and pushed himself up off the couch, "I've got a craving for some peanut butter, you think I can score some?" If anyone could, it was Landon, "You stay loose my friend, talk to Jane and clear the air...it'll be worth it!" Sometimes he would be completely lucid, other times he was away in his own world spouting strange sentences that only made a little sense. He was a cool guy; he was worth listening to and Jensen was going to do just that!

"Oh hey, before you go!" Jensen stood up and called after him, "Why are you so stressed about having a girl?" Landon sighed and shook his head with a sad smile.

"Because I know what men are like, I do not look forward to her teens! I'm scared that she'll meet someone like me, a fuckboy, because let's face it that's what I was for a very long time. I didn't respect women; I went through them in quick succession! I don't want that for my little girl, I know I have many sleepless nights ahead of me, many grey hairs to appear on my head and my beard. I know what's to come and that terrifies me! Someday, you'll understand! Now, peanut butter!" He raised a finger, as if on a mission, and was gone!

⏮️Previous/Next⏭️

[dcbicki]

Hi! I’ll be honest I watch almost all tv while playing games on my little phone bc my brain is rotted 😌

So I missed the Romeo imagery! Would you mind going into it more, it sounds so interesting. If you don’t want to that’s fine but pls know that I love your blog 🤍

Understandable, anon. There’s nothing wrong with a little brainrot. And ty! ❤️

First off, I wrote a whole essay on how Season 3 played with the Romeo & Juliet archetype and how it applies to Mike & El shortly after the season dropped – as satire, mind. It was never intended to be taken seriously; was just food for thought because my brain was salivating over the parallels.

Textually, we’re presented with Dustin saying the thing – “it’s all a bit Shakespearean. Like Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers” – just as Mike and El slip out of frame. And when they reappear in the next shot, a wide shot to emphasize the creation of distance, they’re alone, now separate from the others. On-screen, they’re physically isolated. The plan is to run off and spend quality time together, regardless of their friends’ feelings on the matter.

Subtextually, this isolation is more emotional than literal. Really, what they’ve done is put distance between their loved-ones and their love for one another; the two things don’t yet coexist. They’ve not mastered the art of juggling romance with friendship. These types of relationships are of equal importance, but they’re fourteen and in love for the first time ever – expecting hormonal teenagers, when one of them is far from your typical girl next door and doesn’t have a clean grasp of social norms to begin with, to manage their free time so well feels a little unreasonable.

So we let them off the hook, for a time, the way we don’t let Romeo and Juliet off. The play is, I guess depending on how you interpret it, written as a satire about the foolhardiness of young love. ‘Stranger Things’ isn’t that. Mike and El’s relationship isn’t that. They’re not a cautionary tale. The words ‘star-crossed’ spoken on screen as they seemingly choose one another over everybody else is, if anything, ironic. It's not a surefire sign that they’re doomed — I peg that belief down to how loosely the term is thrown about because it’s so overused in media.

‘Star-crossed’ has many meanings, but in their case specifically it refers to the fact they weren’t fated to meet. It wasn’t the universe’s plan – For a show called “Stranger Things” it only seems appropriate the core romance exists by mere chance. A happy accident. Mike says as much in Season 4: “It’s not fate. It’s not destiny. It’s just simple dumb luck.” Keep in mind, this is the same Mike who starts the series as an idealist, an optimist. Mike, who’s lovestruck and supposedly falls for a girl upon seeing her. Sound like anybody familiar? Mike is a classic romantic character – avid book readers, you get what I’m saying – and who is more romantic than the Montague boy who gets a whole archetype named after him? Only the difference between the two is that Mike is afforded the privilege of growing up, and maturing – something his counterpart never experiences.

At surface level, Mike is easy to get: he’s nice, and he’s protective over his friends, but he can be a bit of a jerk sometimes. In truth, he’s a lot more complex than that, which might explain why so many people seem to have trouble understanding or sympathizing with him now that he’s come more into his own. Mike fills a stereotypically feminine role within the story, supporting the (traditionally male) hero, while also serving as the love interest for the female protagonist within her coming-of-age story. He has to be the nurturing, caregiver to the hero and be her suitor. That’s… an anomaly, especially when the character is written so young. But Mike is aware of both of these roles: he’s been there for El since the start, and never hesitates to be her support system when she needs it. His struggle, however, has always been living up to the romantic standards that he sets for himself. He’s never quite sure how to express his feelings because, really, there’s no precedent, no roadmap on how to love a supernaturally-gifted neurodivergent abuse survivor. He’s in the dark. He has no male role model to look up to for guidance. Throw in insecurities and feelings of unworthiness, no doubt fueled by the fact that the person he wants more than anything is super-worthy, and suddenly it’s lights-out when it comes to Mike giving a long-winded declaration of love until… Cue the stoner and the pizza oven.

We’re in a moment of crisis, it’s looking like the world’s about to end, but then… suddenly… there it is… a glimmer of hope… just behind Mike, in the greasy, warmly-lit back kitchen of a pizza chain restaurant in the middle of mumblefuck Nevada… a Montague pizza oven. Does the name ring a bell?

Now here’s the thing: I wrote that essay in 2019 as a joke, mostly for myself because I found it funny and it didn’t matter if anybody else even read it. But then we get to the Season 4 finale, and Argyle says, “Surf’s up, Romeo” just as Mike’s about to say something no-doubt both corny and perfect-to-El’s-ears, and I – who have been on this hill for like four years now – yell at the screen, “You motherfucker!” So I grin and I shake my head, but I let it go because we’ve got bigger shit to worry about – the salt bath is ready, after all. And then the episode continues, and our boy finally gives his whole spiel in a blur of flickering lights and banging score, and I move on. The episode ends and we wait for Season 5.

Until one day, I get a little too bored and I analyse the hell out of every frame in that particular scene, and I’m not too proud to say I let out a shriek when I see it. Mike’s giving this impassioned monologue about how much he loves El, meanwhile the literary character he’s essentially emulating is behind him the whole time; in last name only, sure, but it’s there, and that can’t be a coincidence. If it is, that is a strange fucking thing indeed.

From that point on, I can’t unsee it, so naturally I tweet about it, and reddit gets wind of it, and then the people – you know the ones – who won’t let two characters so much as blink without taking it out of context get a hold of it, and suddenly it’s like I’ve taken Mike & El out to the back of the barn to be shot dead between the eyes. Because, uh, apparently having the name of perhaps the most infamous fictional lover of all time in frame during a declaration of love, shortly after the person uttering said declaration has just been teasingly nicknamed it, is supposed to be a bad thing?

It’s almost like the people who took this out of context didn’t understand that Mike and El’s relationship isn’t a clear copy-paste of the star-crossed archetype – if they ever even picked up on it in the first place — I guarantee they didn’t. There’s no doom and gloom. There’s no (lasting) death trope. There’s the defiance of stars because they quite literally stumbled on each other in the woods and they have to work at romance, at conquering roadblocks and meddling fathers (which is a whole other thing I could get into) and the universe seems to want to keep them apart.

But the thing is, we know what they’ve been through. We’re supposed to understand their plight because we’ve had four seasons of it now; you’re either on board at this point or not. You know that their trauma precedes whatever selfishness they may display – in past seasons and going forward – because you’ve witness it firsthand. They grow as individuals and as a pair because of their choices, unlike Romeo and Juliet whose death is the consequence of poor decision-making.

Mike isn’t compared to Romeo, in dialogue or even subtextually, because he’s a lovestruck idiot who lets his feelings guide him. He’s hopelessly in love and starts off as a doe-eyed idealist, sure, but he now has the maturity and self-awareness of someone who’s been given the time to think about what love truly means and how to make room for it — to not let it become all-consuming.

He might believe in love at first sight, but he’s under no illusions that the love he has for El was anything but a choice he made. He chose to help her, just as he chooses to continuously love her despite everything telling him not to, despite everything standing in their way. Suggesting their meeting was simply dumb luck and not destiny at work implies the added belief that things happen outside of their control and still… he chose to take her home that night. Fuck fate.

That’s the Romeo thing.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Carmilla: The End

The ending bit of Carmilla is definitely my least favorite, not because she dies, which I knew was going to happen, but because Carmilla herself isn’t actually in it a bunch, which makes everything 100% less entertaining.

Also the way she’s taken out is just anticlimactic and eh.

Basically, Carmilla offers Laura one of the ‘anti-vampire charms’ they were sold, crowing about how great and effective it is, then merrily continues feeding on Laura. Queen shit, and the best part of this section. Laura starts getting sick, a doctor comes and kind of guesses what’s going on, people start staying up with her.

After that, Carmilla’s Dad’s Friend whose daughter mysteriously died comes by, clearly hunting Carmilla. He, Dad, and Laura head to the ruins of the Karnstein castle (aka where Carmilla lived when she was alive), he relates a very long story about how he took in a beautiful young girl who was abandoned by her mysterious mother, how his daughter was in love with her, how his daughter got sick and died, and how he found a weird creature over her and went after it with a sword and it turned into the girl and fled. AND THAT GIRL...WAS CARMILLA! yes we all knew that.

Anyway he’s tracked her, because these assholes hate to see a girlboss winning, and when Carmilla comes he swings his axe at her, but she catches his hand and makes him drop it, Again, queen shit, but after that she just peaces out. And then Laura goes home and the dudes  just...find Carmilla’s grave later, where she is sleeping (also with her eyes open so this was a vampire lore thing we don’t do anymore for some reason, WHY NOT, IT’S COOL) and drive a stake through her heart (and beheads her and stuff). THE END.

It’s really unsatisfying and boring, because Laura never gets to talk to Carmilla after the reveal of what she is, or even really react to it, when the entire story up to that point had been their relationship. It’s just “and you listen to this story, and the men save the day in the most banal way possible, the end”. You can still have the men save they day and have Laura and Carmilla talk! Having Carmilla try to get to Laura one last time, come with a final offer of temptation- and keep in ambiguous whether she really wants them to run off as vampires or is just going to kill her, have Laura not know what to do/be upset at the betrayal/reject her/be tempted/whatever the hell works for your victorian mores just have her feel SOMETHING- and then the men swoop in and fight her off, whatever, that would STILL be more satisfying that what we got here.

There’s also so many loose ends to this story you’d think LeFanu wanted to do a sequel- who were Carmilla’s mother and henchmen? Where are they? Why does nobody try to find them and just act like the threat is over now that Carmilla’s dead? Who turned Carmilla into a vampire? Also, I guess the implication is Carmilla HAS to go back to her grave to sleep sometimes, but it sounds like she’s been traveling all over the place, how does she always get back there, idk. 

There were some really funny vampire lore stuff here though- like according to LeFanu, It is part of the Vampire Curse they can only use dumb anagrams if they use a different name (Carmilla’s real name was Mircalla and she also went by Millarca) which is incredibly funny. Like would Carmilla burst into flame if she called herself Marcy. Also Laura is all like “the idea vampires are pallid is just melodramatic fiction” because nothing else that happens in this book is melodramatic.

Overall my thoughts are ‘it’s okay’, interesting beginning, boring ending, at least it’s a quick read, Carmilla IS an icon and the best character. I liked that she enjoyed being a vampire and would actually defend her lifestyle and genuinely seemed to believe death was a blessing therefore she wasn’t doing anything wrong, it made her a little more complex than ‘IM EVIL’.

As for the implications, it’s definitely meant to be a cautionary tale and any sources who think it’s ‘doesn’t present homosexuality as antagonistic’ are kidding themselves- whenever Carmilla hits on Laura it’s very clear she’s also tempting Laura towards death, meaning lesbianism is tied up in ‘die and lose your soul to be with me’- which is cool for me, a modern reader, who’d love to run off and be a vampire with a cute girl, but from a Victorian perspective it’s damning your immortal soul and Bad. And though the book is clear in the epilogue that vampires do this to people of all genders, aka that there are het vampires killing people too, which does make the messaging a little more neutral, Carmilla only targets and kills women. It doesn’t blatantly say “beware the gays’ but I think the implications ARE supposed to be there, which is unsurprising. That doesn’t make it any less fun though, because as a modern reader, I love Carmilla, love her weird seductive techniques.

The books attitude towards women is interesting, and I think one thing I can say for it versus Dracula so far is (in addition to going SO much harder on the homoeroticism), it’s less blatantly misogynist in as far as actual text. There’s stuff you could interpret subtextually- Carmilla the independent woman with no father, just a “mother”, bought down by fathers, the fact that the father’s listening to their daughters pleas for female companionship invites death and calamity- but there’s no lines that slap you in the face with “This is a Female Character Written by an Insufferable Victorian Man” like the line about how “men are too good for women we don’t deseeeerve them” in Dracula.

Like Laura’s narration is pretty believable, it never even says “I do X because I am a woman”, which I was braced for. Women are overall presented pretty neutrally, and even though she’s a villain, it’s clear Le Fanu was somewhat fascinated by Carmilla’s intelligence and power, as we get so much of her.

Laura’s also noted to be intelligent in the prologue, and her dad is just as easily fooled as she is and even dismisses some of the things Laura picks up on- Like Carmilla’s ancestor looking just like her- to his folly. Him dismissing “peasant superstitions” is a clear sign of his folly, so that’s nice,

Anyway, disappointing ending aside, it was a quick read with a great vampire, and it’s fun to consider it’s place in gothic fiction, and I’m glad I read it. Definitely interested in the retelling that was mentioned to me in the comments, since it’s free on Kindle, I’ll read that sometime!

[yyxgin]

my only hate, my only love (kim seungmin)

pairing: kim seungmin x fem! reader genre: enemies to lovers au, highschool au             angst, fluff word count: 11 k requested by: @joons-asscrack​ warnings: swearing, mentions of broken home 

synopsis: A high school Shakespeare club angrily splits into two groups when they can’t agree on the correct interpretation of Romeo and Juliet. One group thinks it’s a cautionary tale about the stupidity of youth and shallow lust; the other group of youth thinks it’s a beautiful tragedy about poisonous hatred conquered by love. Reconciliation seems impossible-- then a person from one group falls in love with a person from the other. 

(this dea is not mine !! I found it on pinterest under the tumblr user @/sarah531, however, i looked for the account and couldn’t find it. if you have any idea what the current @ of the owner of this prompt is, please let me know !!)

I actually used a lot of passages from this essay of Romeo and Juliet since I didn’t actually read it, all passages of the characters that talk about the play and are in italics belong to the rightful owner of this essay.

1.

“A glooming peace this morning with it brings. The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head. Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. Some shall be pardoned, and some punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.” your voice resonates in the quiet classroom, your words followed by more silence as you drop to your seat and close the book, placing it onto your table. The reality sinks in as the entirety of your English literature class doesn’t dare to say a word, the moment you finish reading the oh so famous Shakespearen drama making everyone lose themselves in their thoughts.

Your professor looks you in the eye, smiling a little. “So? What did you think about it?” she asks, moving her glasses further up her nose with her pointer finger, gazing onto the few people that actually chose this class as their subject of choice just to get more credit. You liked reading, to be honest. Everything about this class seemed inviting-- there were only a few people there and those that did actually care about the literature itself enough were thoughtful enough to hold a proper conversation with. You actually made friends with a lot of your classmates, your brains working at the same frequency as your shared ex gifted child burnout syndrome draped over your brains way too often after arriving to high school, making you connect on another level as you tried to soothe each other’s nerves and be there for each other. It was no secret that only the biggest of nerds went to the English literature classes, but you were okay with that idea.

You snort out a laugh, raising up your eyebrows in amusement. Your classes were always open for discussions, so you didn’t even have to raise your hand to speak-- one of the perks of being the professor’s favorite. You open your mouth to begin talking, when a voice cuts you off, beginning the discussion instead.

“Well, I think it was pretty,” mumbles a boy from the corner of the room, the only one you didn’t even particularly like in this whole class, making you roll your eyes. It was hard, being in the class of your favorite professor when you had to fight over being her favorite student with Kim Seungmin himself-- the devoted dandy boy, the member of the book club, the student council president. You despised everything about him only from one sole reason-- he was the top of the class. That was enough for you to hate him. 

You’re asking why? Well, you were supposed to be the top of the class, of course. And you were, for the main part. You didn’t share any other classes with him, making it easy for you to ignore his existence, but it just so happened that your favorite class also had to be the one where you had to see his face so often.

He was your moral enemy.

“Care to tell us more, Seungmin?” professor Jung asks, motioning for your classmate to continue speaking, to tell her all of his thoughts. You knew Romeo and Juliet must have been her favorite play by the smile on her face, eager to hear all of your reviews and thought processes while reading the piece.

“Well, I think it was quite poetic. Tragic, even. I like the way Shakespeare portrayed the prejudice and ending of a long conflict just with the power of love.” he nods, licking his lips after his bold statement, making you laugh out loud this time. 

All the eyes of your classmates turn to you, even your seatmate-- ever so laid-back and chilled out Han Jisung furrows his brows at your sudden outburst. You were never the one to turn attention your way in classes, the sight of you not reddening under the gazes of the people in the room nowhere to be seen surprising even you.

“Is there something funny, Y/N?” asks the professor, calling you by your first name. You liked the way it sounded, cringing at every teacher that called you by your last name as if you were a legal adult with your life figured out. This seemed more friendly-- it seemed kinder, even. You liked the way it made it feel like your professor actually cared about your opinion.

“I think there is, yes,” you nod, giggling to yourself again. 

“And what is that?” she seems intrigued, taking a few steps to your desk, listening to what you have to say.

“Well, I think what he said is ridiculous.” you point out, a shock spreading on your professor’s features, making you continue. “The only thing tragic about this whole play is how Shakespere portrayed the fake image of love. I mean, Juliet was only 13, don’t you think it was a bit early to get married to a man? After a day, that is?” you explain, intriguing your classmates even more.

“It was the 16th century. It was normal to get married young back then,” mumbled your enemy, Kim Seungmin from his seat, locking his eyes with you through the classroom. 

“Of course I know that,” you ironically smile at him, rolling your eyes in the process and looking back at your professor with a genuine smile this time, explaining more of your point of view, “I think it portrays girls as boy-crazy. Like love is everything they are made of and that they are worthless without a partner-- and that’s why Juliet chose to kill herself. If anything, I think it portrays the stupidity of the youth the most.” 

“So you think she was stupid just because she killed herself upon seeing her loved one dead?” Seungmin’s brows are raised now, looking at you as if he was mocking you.

“Well, Romeo did the same thing, so yes. I think it was stupid of them. They were reckless, the whole situation was. How could they know they were in love when this all happened in one day? Nobody can fall in love that quickly.” you mutter, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I think the play portrayed love at first sight beautifully,” grins Seungmin, the teasing smirk on his face bothering you so much you want to wipe it off his face. Is he really that ridiculous?

“There’s no such thing. And what were the families doing, after all? Arguing without even knowing why? For all we know, their ancestors may have hated themselves because they accidentally took their cow and they decided to kill each other for that?” you scoffed, your voice raising increasingly.

“Now that’s ridiculous.” rolls his eyes Seungmin, taking you over the edge, your voice raising with every spoken word.

“Your view of love is ridiculous. If I knew the boy I was eyeing was my family’s enemy, I wouldn’t bat an eye before dropping him, but no, she chose to marry the guy. Did she really have such twisted morals?” you scoff, a part of your class laughing at your outburst.

You hear a few quiet, amused ‘yeah’s and ‘she’s actually right’s from everywhere around you, only flooding your ego more as you recognise that your point of view is shared by more people and you aren’t actually crazy. 

“I think love is more important than rivalry.” speaks Seungmin, cocking his head to a side, teasing you just by the look on his face, your eyes scanning his features as you hear a few other comments from your classmates around you. Some girls even go as far as cooing at his romantic statement, making you laugh and roll your eyes at them. Were they all this ridiculous? 

“She was thirteen!” you argue, screaming. That is all that takes professor Jung to interfere your heated discussion, clapping her hands in authority, making everyone’s heads snap to her figure standing in front of the classroom with an amused look on her face. 

“Looks like we have quite the discussion here,” she points out, seeing your angered face. 

“Yeah, because Seungmin’s point of view is stupid!” you grunt, making her point a scolding look into your skull that almost makes you shrink in your seat in embarrassment.

“Y/N, no one’s point of view is stupid. Literature is all about the impertretation,” she states, earning a few nods and hums from your interested classmates, “now, who agrees with Y/N’s interpretation of the play?”

A few hands shoot out into the air, Jisung’s following as you angrily nudge him into his side, making you grin. No way your friend is going to support your moral enemy’s idea-- he was your friend, after all. Something inside of you is telling you that this whole feud wasn’t only about the play anymore,. You were fighting with Kim Seungmin, and that was enough to keep you standing by your point.

“And who agrees with Seungmin’s interpretation?” she asks again, searching through the classroom. It seems like the amount of people that agree with your classmate is about the same as the amount of people that agree with you, making you annoyingly roll your eyes at the realisation that you once again didn’t manage to outpower your moral enemy. 

“I see the classroom has split into two teams,” she grins, nodding her head, “well, I did think you were going to have different opinions on this, but I didn’t think it was going to get so heated over here.” she points out, switching her gaze from you to Seungmin and back, as if to scold you and support you with your antics all at once.

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault Y/N can’t appreciate one of the most important pieces of English literature-”

“I’m all about supporting, if it was actually good and meaningful-”

“Stop it, you two!” she scolds you, making both of you shut up and finally provide some silence in the room. “Well, since you all look like you have different opinions on the topic, let’s try a fun experiment. I was going to make you all write an essay on the play by yourselves, just like we usually do, but I think this is going to be much more fun for all of us.” she states, smiling to herself like a happy child on Christmas. You wonder what’s racing through her head as she searches through the classroom, locking eyes with you, then continuing.

“I want you all to write an essay and do a presentation on Romeo and Juliet-- you can write about anything, whether it is your ideas, what you took from the play, what is your view-point on it. But you have to write it with the person who has the exact opposite opinion on this play. So this way, we can get the story from two points of view. Let’s see what you agree on, what you don’t, make it a discussion, I don’t care, just make it make sense. Do you understand me?” she smiles and you swear you can already feel what is going on before she says it, making your head hurt and breath hitch in your throat.

“And since Seungmin and Y/N seem to have the most different opinions on this, I am picking them as a pair-- no, there’s no way for the two of you to change.” she says before you can even open your mouth to argue back, leaving you to stand up from your seat just at the time when the bell rings.

“But miss Jung-” 

“I want it done until the end of this month.” she smiles, taking her things and leaving the classroom, letting the thought sink in. You lunge yourself back to your seat, defeated and left to process the fact that you now had two weeks to work on a project with Kim Seungmin-- your biggest enemy.

A sigh escapes your seatmate’s mouth upon the scene, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s what you get for always picking fights with him.”

2.

That’s how you end up in a coffee shop two blocks away from your house. You didn’t exactly ask for Kim Seungmin’s number-- you weren’t in the 2000s anymore-- you swiftly added him on Facebook in order to get this over with so you wouldn’t have to meet with him anymore. Yes, you were mad at Mrs Jung for pairing you up with him, but you still adored her and wanted to do well, so that’s why you chose to do what you had to and arranged a meeting with him.

Kim Seungmin appears in the coffee shop in his usual cozy demeanour-- oversized sweater and everything, with a backpack hanging off his shoulder and a serious look plastered on his face. He places his copy of Romeo and Juliet onto the table and sits his figure into the chair right in front of you, sighing heavily as he stares at you from under his eyelashes, voice low and defeated.

“Hi.” he greets, resting his back against the head of the chair, waiting for you to take initiative. You were the one who arranged this whole thing in the first place, so it was kind of your responsibility now in his books.

“Hello,” you cleared your throat. You felt like you were sitting there with the devil himself, just begging yourself in your head not to explode like a raging volcano with every movement he made that always somehow ended up irritating you. It was like his aura was everything you despised-- his collected way of discussing and his calm way of thinking getting on your nerves with every sigh he sent your way.

“So… how do you wanna go around this?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you in question. 

You sigh back at him just to show him how annoyed you are by your professor’s choice of your partner, bringing your hands to rest them on the table and cracking your knuckles in nerves. You didn’t meet his eyes, you felt too intimidated to do so in the moment, before you spoke up and managed to get your point across. 

“Well, since we have to gather both of our viewpoints in the essay, I think we could just start of by telling the other one what topics we want to talk about so the other one can debunk them.” you mumble, suddenly feeling nervous by the possibility of your idea being rejected. If you could disappear on the spot, believe me, you would. 

Seungmin hums from his seat, nodding. “Seems reasonable.”

You try your hardest not to let out a relieved sigh, nodding back at him. “I brought some notes.”

You did some preparation for this. Well, a lot of preparation. There was no way Kim Seungmin could catch you unprepared at your study meeting. You wanted to prove to him that you were worth so much more than sharing your grade with him and if he had any snarky or teasing remark, you best believe you mastered up a response just as spiteful, if not more than what could possibly leave his lips in the moment. You weren’t here to embarrass yourself. You were here to look smart. Smarter than Kim Seungmin. 

“Perfect.” he just mutters, taking the sheet of paper you were offering to him from your hand, placing it on the table in front of him and skimming his eyes through the lines of text you scribbled down yesterday evening.

The silence makes your palms sweat. It makes you nervously bite down on your lower lip. You felt embarrassing-- you were never the conservative type. All this time, you used to hate your classmate from afar. You never actually spoke to each other, all you did to express your hatred for the boy was in the way you always rolled your eyes when he spoke up in class, or you sighed when Mrs Jung was complimenting him in front of everyone, making sure he heard you. You don’t know what broke in you that day-- you were quite the shy type, to be honest. You didn’t like to be the centre of attention. What were you even thinking by all of this?

“I don’t think we should mention their age as an argument,” he says, finally meeting eyes with you. 

“Why?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Because as I already said, it was long ago. People used to marry young.” he shrugs, offering the sheet of paper back to you with a judging look on his face.

“Okay and? My point still stands. They were too young and reckless.” 

“I also don’t think we should talk about the sex part.” he concludes, landing his hands into his lap.

“Why? Because it’s controversial?” you teasingly grin at him, waiting for his response.

“No. Because it clearly brings nothing to the table about our arguments. It doesn’t even really play a big role in the whole thing, so I think it’s useless to mention,” he shrugs, looking at your face. It felt like his eyes were studying you, judging you. It was hard to keep eye contact with him-- so you didn’t. You averted your gaze out of the window, opting to watch the passer-bys instead. 

You sigh, waiting for him to say something against your notes again. Of course you could expect this-- there was no way Kim Seungmin would agree with anything you’re trying to say in the matter at all.

“And the point about Rosaline is a little over the line as well…” 

“What do you want me to put in the essay if you’re just going to tell me it’s unreasonable and over the line, huh?” you voice out, pinning your eyes onto his shocked figure, “it’s supposed to be an essay on everything I didn’t like about it, so that’s what I’m going to put in it and your job is to comment on my arguments. Just like my job is to comment on what you loved about this piece of shit of a play, and that’s what I’m going to do, so fuck off.” you growled, standing up and taking your things with you, too frustrated and hot-headed to continue the discussion.

Only Kim Seungmin could make you this mad and you hated him for it even more.

3.

You hear your door open, revealing your mum standing in the doorway with a mug of hot tea and a soft smile playing with her features. You sigh, playing with your pen in your hand, waiting for her to say what she needs to say and leave so you could have some silence to finally work.

“Sweetie, you should really relax for a while. You’ve been studying for the whole day…” she mumbles, taking the tea to your desk and running a hand through your hair. You fight off the urge to pull away from her, knowing damn well it would hurt her feelings, so you just opt to nod at her face and faking a smile.

“Yeah, sure, mum.” you respond, but make no effort in getting up from your chair and moving to your bed. It was already late in the night and your mum was wearing her pyjamas, signaling that she was going to sleep. She always went to sleep early, because she needed to wake up in the early hours of the day to go to work, but you usually didn’t go to sleep earlier than midnight anyway-- homework was taking you too much time sometimes.

“I mean it. You’re doing great job in school, sweetie, but you have to lay off for a while or else you’ll overwork yourself.” she says affectionately, making you grunt on the inside.

“Okay, okay, go to sleep now, good night mum…” you mumble, waiting for her to finally leave you alone. 

“Are you telling me to go away?” she asks with a hint of laugh in her voice that you know for a fact is fake, because the expression on her face looks hurt. You hate to see that face, because it makes you feel guilty, but you really can’t help yourself sometimes.

“No.” you mutter, shaking your head.

She just stares at you for a while, biting down on her lower lip, before she hangs her head low and sighs out. She turns around, taking a few steps to your door, turning around only for a moment when she stands in the doorway and whispers a quiet ‘good night’ at you, closing the door behind her and disappearing into her bedroom. 

You feel a sense of relief coming over you. Of course you weren’t going to sleep yet, but she didn’t have to know that. She didn’t have to know a lot of things. 

The small, old copy of Romeo and Juliet falls into your eyes in the corner of your desk. You had to borrow your book from the library and you hated how some pages were torn and the ink was so old it was hard to read sometimes, but you couldn’t afford to buy yourself one, because you were saving up for college and every cent counts in your household. 

You take it into your hands, reading over the passages you bookmarked when you were first reading the book, wanting to refresh your memory with the lines that stood up to you and made you snort at how ridiculous the book truly was again before typing them down into the document you had opened in front of you.

“Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake- it’s everything except what it is!” it says. You run your fingers along the words, the curves of the ink cutting you like a knife. Love is all of these things-- it’s terrifying and it’s unpredictable. It sounds scary in your ears and you’ve seen it right in front of your eyes- love is everything except what it is. 

Love isn’t heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold. Love isn’t sick and healthy. Love is pain. It takes everything you have, it ties you down, it makes you do things you would never do if you weren’t in love. It intoxicates you and makes you make bad decisions. When you love, you’re irresponsible. You’re like a storm. 

Your mum and your dad were in love. Or, your mum always told you they were.

So if your mum and your dad were in love, they were supposed to be together through the heavy and the light. Through the bright and through the dark. Through sick and healthy. They were supposed to be there for each other. 

They were both really young when they fell in love. You understand-- they were reckless and they were stupid. 

But did your father really have to leave you? 

Love is nothing from the above. Love is sick and love is just a play. It would be stupid to be hung up on that idea that Kim Seungmin so desperately wanted to believe in.

4.

“So, how far did you get with the essay?” asks Jisung on your lunch break, looking at you with expectation. You told him about your planned meeting with Seungmin, but you didn’t get around to telling him just how it went yet. 

“Oh, that…” you mumble, letting out a dry chuckle, “well, he told me my ideas are stupid, so I’m just going to write it by myself and send it to him so he can add his points into it.” you shrugged, taking a bite from your sandwich, stuffing your cheeks with the food so you didn’t have to explain any further.

Jisung sighs in front of you, rolling his eyes like every time you gush about Seungmin and how he gets on your nerves. “Can you lay off that Anne and Gilbert attitude already?”

“Stop saying that, that’s disgusting,” you scrunch up your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Well, it looks like you two are doing a whole 21st century remake right in front of our eyes, though,” chuckles Jisung, teasing you further, “with that whole top of the class students that hate each other and act like children just because they don’t agree on something. It’s only a matter of time before you fall in love.”

“Ew,” you fake a gag, rolling your eyes at him, “that is so not happening.”

“Yeah, sure, tell me about it at your wedding in a few years.” he mutters.

“I am not getting married in my whole life, marriage is wack,” you roll your eyes at him for the millionth time, the gesture so familiar to you over the past few days. Everything seems to annoy you recently. Maybe you were just going through a bad patch, who knows?

“Oh would you look at that, Y/N’s acting like a Grinch again,” giggles Jisung, ruffling your hair in the process just to annoy you even more, making you pull away abruptly from his touch.

“That doesn’t even make any sense! Grinch hates Christmas, not fake images of love.” you argue back, finishing your sandwich and rolling the plastic that was covering it into a little ball, throwing it into his face to shut him up.

“Yeah, sure.” he snorts, throwing the ball back at you. You catch it in your hands with a promise to yourself to throw it out when exiting the cafeteria later, when you feel a light tap on your shoulder that makes you turn around.

The sight in front of you makes you shoot your eyebrows up in shock, leaving you flustered and surprised. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to ask when we can hang out again to work on that essay, since it’s, you know, like half of our final grade…” mutters Seungmin, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly and pointing his eyes at you, casually waiting for your answer.

“Oh, we’re not meeting again. I’m just going to email you the file when I’m done.” you shrug.

“But that’s unfair to me?” he offers, eyebrows shooting up and his hand falling to his side.

“Why would it be?”

“That gives me less time to work on it, you know. And you have to add your comments to my work anyways, so it would mean you’ll have to write those at the last-minute.” Seungmin explains, his tone of voice calm and collected, just as always, after all, making you roll your eyes and fume up again. 

“I don’t really care,” you shrug, smiling ironically at his face.

“Why- what?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned and confused, eyebrows scrunching up and his voice raising a little by an octave.

You don’t answer him, though. You’ve had enough of his snarky comments and remarks in the coffee shop-- you weren’t going to meet up with Kim Seungmin again, even if it meant the possibility of getting a bad grade from your most favorite and treasured subject. 

After the boy is met with silence, all he does is scoff at you, shooting his arms up into the air and shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re such a fucking child, oh my god.”

And with that, he strides off, your eyes following his every move to make sure he doesn’t come near you again. His steps are quick and angry, and this is actually the first time you’ve seen him get so frustrated with something. You take pride in getting him over the edge. You were finally even. He doesn’t look back once and you think you finally made it.

“Stop staring, Anne.” you hear from your friend sitting right in front of you, making you break away from your bubble and taking a look at him, seeing him amused and with a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“Fuck off.”

5.

“Peace? I hate the word as I hate hell and all Montagues.” Mrs Jung reads out, when you start dozing off in the class. You’ve read the play a lot of times already, making you feel bored even by the repetitiveness of your class. You understand that she is just waiting for all of you to turn in your papers, not wanting to move on from Romeo and Juliet just yet, but you find yourself slowly falling asleep under the spell of her voice and the fact that you spent the whole night studying again. The sentence startles you awake, making you chuckle to yourself.

‘Peace? I hate the word as I hate hell and Kim Seungmin himself,’ you think. If Han Jisung could read minds, he would be surely teasing you with another smart remark of how much energy you’re spending by hating the poor boy and how it’s not possible for you to not fall in love with him soon after how much time he spends in your mind, but Han Jiung can’t read minds. And even if he could, you’d just tell him to fuck off. Because he is wrong.

“Am I boring you, Y/N?” asks Mrs Jung, fully startling you awake as you straighten your back and properly sit on your uncomfortable chair again. 

“Of course not!” you call out, blinking rapidly to keep your eyes from closing on themselves again. 

“Oh, I thought I was, by how tired you seem by listening to me.” she just smiles at you, then continues talking and looks at the other students in your class, leaving you to blush to yourself without giving you more attention. 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking around the classroom. You feel embarrassed. You really didn’t mean to give your favorite professor the wrong idea-- you just got to bed really, really late yesterday. It happened often, but you guess that it just took a bigger stroll on you today. 

Your eyes meet the orbs of your moral enemy, that just gazes into you with intensity. You quickly look away. Why is he doing that? His eyes look worried. He’s not supposed to look at you in such a way-- he’s supposed to laugh at how you’ve just been scolded. He just won a few points to himself by paying more attention than you, he just got on the better side with your favorite professor, yet he doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it at all. 

A small piece of paper catches your interest from the corner of your eye. You read through it, recognising the loopy handwriting of your seat-mate.

did you stay up late studying again?

You sigh, taking a pen out of your pencil case and neatly writing under it, trying not to get caught by Mrs Jung. You really don’t want to get scolded for the second time today.

yeah

you should probably relax a little, your grades are already good to begin with

You roll your eyes at the note. Of course he’d say something like that. In elementary school, your grades were good without even trying. All you had to do was pay attention in class and write what you could remember, but now, in high school, everything is a little harder for you and you suddenly weren't good enough anymore. And yeah, you could say that grades don’t even matter that much, but for you, they meant everything. 

yeah that’s bc i study jisung

now you’re falling asleep tho how is that helping

You don’t answer him. It’s not that he’s wrong. It’s just that… you’re not going to tell him that he is. Yes, you falling asleep wasn’t helping you in the tiniest, because the less you pay attention in class, the more you have to study at home, and the more you study, the less you sleep, which means you’re going to fall asleep in class the next day and it’s just an endless cycle.

sorry :( but just remember that grades aren’t everything Anne you can get an F once in a while

thanks

You write. But you don’t really mean it. 

Because if you get an F, you’re not going to be the top of the class anymore.

And how will you get a scholarship if you’re not?

6.

You arrive to the library, sighing to yourself as you quickly take your coat off and smile to Mrs Kim, the older librarian that let you work here part-time for the time being. You didn’t get paid much, but you loved the job. For the most part, it was easy-- there weren’t many people coming to libraries these days anymore and you could just stay behind the counter, occasionally letting people borrow books and writing them into the evidence. You had a lot of time to study there as well, it was silent and calm. Sometimes, you felt like your heart could rest a little in the small place.

“I’m sorry for coming late Mrs Kim, but the bus was late so I couldn’t get here sooner-” you rush out out of breath, dropping your backpack under the counter, ready to change seats with your employer that was done with her shift for the day.

“It’s totally okay, sweetheart, you know there’s no rush.” she smiles at you, reassuring your nerves with the gesture. You were glad you had such caring people around you. You met with Mrs Kim more than you did with your own mother-- it was strange, but comforting to know that at least someone close to a parental figure was still in your life.

Maybe you just hung yourself into older, reliable people because you lost the security you had in your own mother. Or because you didn’t even have a father to begin with. You don’t know if you’re doing the right thing, but in your heart, it surely feels like you are. 

You nod at her, seeing her leave and wave at you as she takes her things with her before you’re left alone with your thoughts. You sit yourself on the chair, looking around for a moment, before you take out your notes and start working on your homework. The library felt like a safe space-- not that you didn’t have the silence and comfort at your own home, since you were home alone all the time anyway-- but here, at least you felt like there was a reason behind your loneliness. You were at work, after all. 

You wonder if things would have been different for your mum if she didn’t have you so young. Maybe she would still be happy with your dad-- maybe she wouldn’t have to work a lot just to get you through life. It’s not easy, raising a child on your own when you are a child still, you realise that. And your mother does a good job-- at least you think she is-- but sometimes, you wish your life would be different.

You curse at your mother for being so reckless when she was young. If you’d be born later, she’d finish school. Give you a better life. Maybe, you would even have a father. You would be a little happy family, going on vacations and enjoying your lives.

Now, you’re stuck with trying your hardest to be the best at everything. To have your life figured out, because at your age, your mum surely didn’t. You know you shouldn’t blame her-- you need two people to create a child, but there was no other person for you to blame. 

You try your hardest to get a scholarship, because you can’t pay for college on your own. You work so your mother doesn’t have to stay at her job over-night so often just to pay the bills. You educate yourself to be smart and successful-- because that will surely change your life for the better, right? 

Suddenly, you hear the bell above the door of the library ring, startling you away from your thoughts. You look that way with a polite smile on your face you’ve taught yourself while working at customer service, ready to greet the customer with fake enthusiasm, when your mouth hangs open without a word. Startled would be an understatement to the feeling you feel at the moment.

“Hello,” the person greets politely, looking at you momentarily before going up to the counter with a stack of books in his hands. He looks up after placing them on the surface and that’s the moment when you see he realises your presence fully-- after seeing his face fall into shock.

“Good afternoon,” you grunt ironically, taking the books closer to yourself so you can check them in, recognising his eyes following your every move from the corner of your eye, “your ID?” you raise up your eyebrows at him, annoyance apparent in your features.

“Oh, right,” he catches himself, quickly patting every pocket of his clothing, until he puts up his hand into his backpack and browses through his wallet, slender fingers offering you the little card so you can scan the code.

The computer freezes for a bit and you curse to yourself-- did it really have to happen now? With Kim Seungmin watching you like an alien? The computer at your local library wasn’t the newest, per say. It didn’t even have to be, your usual customers were just as old, if not even older than that piece of machinery, they didn’t mind waiting. But now wasn’t the time for the computer to freeze. You feel yourself losing your nerves, bouncing your leg up and down, angrily glaring at the screen. 

A minute passes, than another-- could it even get worse than this? 

“So,” clears his throat Seungmin, making you snap your head up to meet his gaze, “what’s up?” he asks, shocking you again. 

“Why do you care?” you snap, glaring at him instead. How dare he act so casually after saying all those mean things to you? You couldn’t believe your ears. 

“Because you’re my classmate…?” he furrows his brows, tone of voice cautious, sounding like a question instead.

“And?” you ask, watching the screen of the computer instead, cursing at the new electronic system Mrs Kim decided to install. It would have been so much easier if you could just scribble down your signature on a small piece of paper and take the books like you used to do before, but no, she was all about innovation. 

“And I thought we were civil enough for a casual conversation,” he rambles, making you snort in disbelief.

“Oh, we are anything but civil.” you respond, losing your nerves, taking your hand and angrily hitting the top of the screen, as if it was supposed to make the computer work. You violently curse under your breath, hitting it a few times, each one more lightly, until the program starts to work, finally registering the books back into the library evidence.

“Why do you even hate me so much?” he asks after you stop, looking at you with annoyed eyes and a look worthy of an oscar-winning actor. He didn’t care, you knew that, but he sure looked like he did.

You just scoff at him, shaking your head. 

“Goodbye,” is all you offer him, his library ID in your hand, before he takes it and rolls his eyes at you again, like many times before. With that, he leaves-- just like you wanted him to-- and you can finally relax. 

You sigh out, taking a seat on your chair again, angirly shutting your textbooks close and grunting under your breath. You put your head into your hands, resting them on the table, breathing heavily. You won’t even be able to study now, and it’s all thanks to him.

Why do you even hate him so much?

7.

Kim Seungmin is an interesting individual. As you continue to work in the library the next week, you meet him there every single day. You don’t even have the energy to bark at him anymore-- he slid into your life like a gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Always there, but you never get used to it and it’s still annoying when you walk around. 

Kim Seungmin is your moral enemy, as we already established. He comes into the library every day and you’re convinced it’s just because he wants to piss you off, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of letting him rile you up anymore. You just silently glare at him and sigh when the timing feels right to show him how much you actually still hate his presence. 

He comes back one day while you’re working on your essay, sitting at the table with furrowed eyebrows and the end of your pen trapped between your teeth. The copy of the play is sitting open right in front of you and his eyes fall into it, recognising the underlined replicas and words. You didn’t work on that essay together ever since your first meeting and the due date was nearing, all he wanted to do was review it with you to at least know what he was getting into.

“Can you even read all of these books in a day when you keep coming back for more every time?” you grumpily mumble as you check back the books you, as the librarian, let him borrow yesterday. They are quite thin, but still, you doubt he was so quick to read all of them in a single afternoon.

“Why do you care?” he asks, snickering to himself. Of course, here he is-- annoying every single cell and fiber of your body again.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t. It’s just getting a little annoying.” you ironically smile at him, sitting back to your chair as you finish lending him the new stash of books. You’re not even sure where he got all of these from, since they don’t even look that interesting, but you choose not to think about it any longer as you get back to your essay, scribbling onto the lined paper.

“I like what you’ve written so far,” he says, startling you. You thought he left already-- I mean, why would he even stay? But he didn’t and he was standing right in front of you, eyes skimming over your messy handwriting.

“No you don’t. You’re arguing against me.” you snap back, darting your eyes to him, seeing him sigh.

“Whatever,” he shakes his head, “I was just wondering when you’re going to finally stop being so childish so we can work on that project together, you know.”

“I’m not childish-”

“Stop arguing with me for once, for god’s sake!” he rushes out, throwing his arms in the air in nerves, huffing out in frustration. “Look, I’ll be here tomorrow. The same time. I’ll bring my things and if you still don’t let me work with you, I won’t write anything and we’ll get a bad grade together. Take it or leave it.”

And with that, he is gone. 

Fuck Kim Seungmin.

8.

Turns out your enemy is a man of his word. 

He truly does show up the next day-- with his backpack slung on his shoulder, cute big glasses sitting on his nose and a stack of papers in his hands. He raises his brows at you upon arriving and you just let out a defeated sigh. 

You put a lot of thought into this yesterday evening. Did you hate Kim Seungmin? Of course you did. Was he really annoying? Yes. But were you going to get a bad grade just because of that? Not a chance. 

And so you choose to give up on the small war and let him sit in front of you, you let him casually ask you questions about the essay and surprisingly, you answer. It is kind of easy, working with a partner on the same exact level as you, because, and now, don’t get me wrong, you love your classmates, but it seemed like you did all the work all the time. It was nice to have somebody by your side that actually managed to do something and took his part responsibly.

“So, since we’re not just gonna go there and argue right from the start, I wrote a little something about William Shakespeare and his background as well in the introduction, I actually didn’t get around to writing the introduction to the play itself, but-”

“Oh that’s fine, I have it done. We can just stick that in there,” he smiles at you warmly, taking you by a surprise. 

You’ve never seen Kim Seungmin smile at you. It was strange to act so friendly around him. Perhaps you were really losing your mind while studying so much. 

“Perfect.” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“I also have the general storyline written down so you don’t have to do that��” he mumbles, looking away for a while when your eyes meet. Is this supposed to be so awkward?

“Nice.” you opt to simply reply in your usual cold nature, nodding.

“Can you tell me which topics you wrote about? So I know if I need to write my part about more things…” he takes the initiative again and you’re actually kind of glad, because that means you don’t have to think of the schedule of your little meeting anymore. 

“Oh, right,” you say, shuffling around in your papers, “um… I just wrote about the age aspect, how reckless their love was, the image of love itself in the play, I also wrote about how meaningless the rivalry was…” you mumble, averting your eyes to the blue ink on the paper.

“Awesome, so we have all of that done… except from the love thing. Okay, I’ll write it next time I come around, since I have tutoring in a few,” he smiles, standing up from the chair, taking all of his things with him.

“Next time?”

“Yeah, well, we still have to finish it. You’ll be here on Tuesday, right? Since the class is on Thursday, so we can have time for the finishing touches.” he proposes, leaving you staring at him, startled.

“O...kay,” you nod, watching him leave.

“Perfect! I’ll see you around, bye!” he cheers, escaping the library that now feels so much hotter than before, leaving you all alone. You notice his tall figure rushing the other way of the library, watching it until it disappears completely out of your sight. 

You notice how hot your cheeks are, bringing a hand to rest against the burning surface, taking deep breaths to somehow calm down the racing heart you are only recognising now, that he’s gone. 

You still have a lot of work to do before Tuesday-- one of your tasks, it seems, is to try to not fall for his friendly nature and welcoming smile. Because perhaps, he was right all along-- why do you even hate him so much?

9.

Kim Seungmin has always been your moral enemy-- you despised everything about him, from the way he was always so calm and collected, so sweet and caring, so smart and thoughtful. You despised his composure. You despised the way he always somehow managed to make friends with everyone around him no matter who the person was. 

He was everything you weren’t. You were just the quiet kid from a broken family that always had to look after herself. You were the kid that had to keep on trying to be the best one, because your mind didn’t let you accept the second place. 

Yet now, that Kim Seungmin is sitting right in front of you with a sweet smile plastered onto his features and a stack of notes in his hands, making your heart race with his every move, you start to quietly doubt your silent hatred for the boy.

He makes it so easy to be likeable. You’re jealous of him.

“Okay, so, do you want to start reading? I think it might help us to have a run down before presenting this on Thursday,” he asks you, leaving you to take a deep breath in, nodding to yourself.

You skip the introduction bits-- both of you know a little too much about the play and its author already, you have no reason to be reading those parts out loud. Something inside of you starts shaking at the thought of presenting your work to him. You were never really good with presentations, your quiet nature leaving you getting hot in the cheeks and stammering every time you had to read in front of the class, but now, it feels even worse with the boy staring at you, listening to everything you have to say.

“They say Romeo and Juliet describe a love that surpasses all boundaries, but a close reading of the play suggests the lovers’ feelings are more complicated than pure love. If we look, we can find plenty of evidence that Romeo and Juliet’s love for one another is, at least initially, immature. Romeo begins the play claiming to be passionately in love with another woman, Rosaline. When he sees Juliet, he abandons Rosaline before he has even spoken to his new love, which suggests that his feelings for both women are superficial. Juliet, meanwhile, seems to be motivated by defying her parents. She is unenthusiastic about her parents’ choice of husband for her, and at the party where she is supposed to meet Paris, she instead kisses Romeo after exchanging just fourteen lines of dialogue with him. When Romeo returns to see Juliet, she is focused on marriage. For Juliet, part of the appeal of marriage is that it will free her from her parents: ‘I’ll no longer be a Capulet’,” you read out quietly. The room is silent, you can even hear the passing cars outside of the window, but Seungmin says nothing. You pay a daring look to him, finding him focused on your face, which makes you shakily drift your eyes back, reading some more so you can distract yourself.

“Marriage is, also, another great aspect of the story-- Juliet is only 13 in the play and even though we can argue and say that historically, she was of age to get married, I still think it is irresponsible to marry so young and so quickly. It brings a bad view of reckless love to young readers that are forced to read the play while growing up.” you continue, hearing Seungmin smirk from the other side of the table.

“‘With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out’, Romeo says, however, to Juliet, all of the freedom she gets from love sparks in the idea of leaving her parents so she can have sex.” you read out, hearing Seungmin finally burst out laughing.

You stop reading, looking up to him with questioning eyes. 

“Why are you so dramatic about all of it anyway?” he asks you, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“What do you mean dramatic? I was supposed to write about my own view of it, so I did just that. You don’t have to laugh at me for it,” you shake your head, kind of feeling pathetic for the way your heart is racing. The thing is, and you know it sounds ridiculous, you actually feel kind of hurt by the sound of his laughter.

“I understand that, but why do you keep bashing the author for writing it like that? It’s like you don’t even believe in love, all you did was criticise all of the ideas he had. And so what if they were young and reckless? They were still in love, you know?” he rambles, making your blood boil again.

“You can’t just ignore all of it because it was in history. I don’t think it’s normal to marry so young and to claim you are in love so quickly, because you know what? If they survived, they would make a child. And then, they would realise how they fucked up their own life and Romeo would run away from her with a snap of his finger, because that’s what young, immature boys do. And then-” you raise your voice, not even realising how heated you got with the argument as you continue to ramble. The vision of your own parents and your own story is slowly eating you all up from the inside, when suddenly, Seungmin cuts you off again with a laugh.

“But you don’t know that. It’s not even in the play and your conspiracies are just… pathetic, really,” he shrugs, taking in your distressed state.

Pathetic conspiracies. Is this what he called your life?

“Leave.” you say, breathing heavy.

“What? We didn’t even-” 

“You criticize everything I write, not even recognising that maybe I do have a reason for feeling like this and maybe I really do not want to idolise young, immature love when I know just how much damage it can make, so please, for the love of god, Kim Seungmin, leave me alone!” you yell out, standing up from your chair and pointing to the door.

“Y/N-”

“I said get out!” you scream. His deep eyes stare at you for a few minutes, startled, before he hurriedly takes his things and leaves through the front door. 

Once you’re finally alone again, you sigh heavily and put your head into your hands. You feel your eyes burning, trying to desperately blink away the stupid tears filling your saddened orbs, but it’s no use as you see a few teadrops fall onto the opened copy of Romeo and Juliet on the table. 

‘It’s easy for someone to joke about scars if they’ve never been cut.’, it says.

Maybe you were fooling yourself when you thought Kim Seungmin will no longer be your enemy after all of this.

10.

You raise up to your feet when Mrs Jung calls on you on Friday. You already know what’s going to happen-- you’d been preparing yourself for this moment for the past two long, miserable days. You hadn’t spoken to Seungmin since that day in the library and frankly, you feel like after all of this, you have nothing to say to him. You feel like all energy has been sucked out of you, like you are just a walking cage without a soul just ready for this whole project to be over.

You scan the faces of your classmates, most of them looking interested by your essay. They must be expecting drama, an outburst of emotions as you listen to Seungmin’s words, but you won’t give them the satisfaction today. You’re just going to do your part-- you’re going to read out what you have to say and that’s where it ends. You’re not wasting your energy on Kim Seungmin anymore. It’s not worth your time at all. 

So you start, just like that time in the library. You make all your points, you mention all of the topics you wanted to discuss. You throw it right in front of their faces, silently confessing to them all of your deepest secrets and insecurities, because the truth is, you wouldn’t feel so strongly about the play if it didn’t affect you as much. 

And when you’re done, you let your rival speak. You listen to him with curiosity, it doesn’t matter how much you’re trying to convince yourself you don’t actually care. His words flow into your ears and fill your mind with thoughts, every single one of them dedicated to his neat handwriting and his brain full of mysteries he is currently uncovering right in front of you.

“To be honest, Y/N’s words made me think. They made me think too hard. They made me question if my point of view was actually as correct as I thought it was. You see, Y/N is a smart girl. No one can deny that. Perhaps that is what made me doubt my own words so much in the first place,” he starts, looking you directly in the eye, but quickly averting his eyes to the small group of people in the classroom instead, “but still, even though there are some points of her essay that I agree with-- like the age aspect, even though historically, it could be meaningless, as well as the way their marriage comes too fast, there are still things I strongly disagree on.”

He takes a deep breath, shuffling the papers in his hands until he finds the right one, and starts speaking again. “Y/N says their love isn’t as pure as it seems to be. With Romeo abandoning Rosaline and with Juliet desperately wanting to break away from her parents, it may seem that way. However, I think that yet, while the two characters may have initially fell for each other due to a mixture of convenience and lust, Romeo and Juliet’s language shows their passion maturing into real love,” he says, taking a short look at you that makes your insides burn in flames, “In their first meeting, they compose a sonnet together using the religious language of pilgrimage. They both start using astrological language to describe their love. As their relationship develops, they use less rhyme, which has the effect of making their language feel less artificial. These changes in the lovers’ language show that they are growing together. They are growing to care more deeply for each other, they are growing into a feeling of love they have for each other.”

“Another thing I disagree with Y/N on is her image of love. ‘Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn,’ she quotes. Romeo asks his friend, Mercutio, this question when he feels hurt by his love. Yet, as I already mentioned, in my opinion, love is growing. And growing is a journey-- in every journey, there is going to be some pain,” he looks at you again, as if to tell you that his words aren’t meant for the class, but for you and your ears only. It doesn’t look like he’s arguing with you anymore--he is simply telling you what’s on his mind. What he believes in. 

“In theory, I think love is beautiful. I understand the pain and I understand the journey. And with me saying I disagree, I’m not saying Y/N’s opinion is wrong. It’s simply what she believes in,” he nods his head, locking his eyes with Mrs Jung, “but perhaps, it’s the romantic in me that believes that the image of love portrayed in this book was, in fact, beautiful.”

He clears his throat, looking at you again, but this time, his eyes don’t drift to the papers in his hand, rather speaking from his memory instead of reading out the things he had written down. “‘The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it were not night.’ Isn’t that beautiful?” he averts his eyes to the class, smiling to himself and looking to the ground. 

Somehow, his words feel heavy on you. Like they hold the weight of the world, like what he said wasn’t just to prove a point to you. Perhaps Kim Seungmin saw through the hurt you feel-- perhaps he tried to understand. Maybe, he even tried to make you feel better. 

Somehow, his words feel like a confession. His ending ment of saying ‘thank you for your time’ goes unnoticed in your brain, everything turning blurry as the bell rings just as your presentation ends, your brain, eyes-- your whole being focused on Kim Seungmin and the way his voice recitated the words with such passion in his heart.

“‘And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury,’” the voice of your English literature teacher cuts through your senses like a knife, the smile on her face bringing you back to reality, “Good job, you two.”

11.

A kick in a face wouldn’t hit you harder than seeing Kim Seungmin appear in the library the next day. You aren’t prepared to see him, not when all you’ve been thinking of the last night without being able to fall asleep were his words, his mind and his face. You saw him every time you closed your eyes-- it was like he suddenly imprinted himself into your brain. It was crazy. You felt crazy.

Romeo and Juliet fell in love at first sight. Romeo and Juliet got married the next day. 

How much time did it take you to fall in love with Kim Seungmin? 

Suddenly, you have no idea. And what makes it all worse is the fact that somehow, it all makes sense in your eyes. Maybe Jisung was right when he told you that giving so much energy into hating the boy would somehow make you end up like the 21st century replica of Anne of the Green Gables and Gilbert Blythe.

“Hello,” he breathes out, the corners of his mouth slightly curving up before he bites the nervous smile down, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Hi,” you shyly greet him, noticing the book in his hands alongside with the library card, taking it from his reached-out hand. You recognise the book way too well, the hard covers a little dusty and the spine damaged from the amount of people that had borrowed this book from the library before.

You take the copy of Romeo and Juliet and place it on the table, registering it back into the database. It feels like a chapter of your life is ending. It seems like forever since you’ve been assigned the project, but in a way, you know that nothing will ever be the same. 

You kept thinking of his words in the night. How in his romantic mind, love is beautiful. And it’s a journey that requires pain, in a way. 

You kept thinking of how your parents were in love. And then, they were in pain. It was their journey that somehow ended up with you being born, ended up with your father leaving you because he couldn’t bear the responsibility. You kept thinking about how you used to blame your mother, even though all she ever did was raise you and love you. And in a way, you knew Seungmin was right and love was beautiful-- it brought your mum pain, but she was happy while it lasted. And you were the proof of that.

You give him back his library ID, fully expecting him to leave without another word, but he doesn’t. He takes it back from your hold, slipping the card into his back pocket, giving you a meaningful look as he sighs.

“I-”

“Look-”

You both start at the same time, nervously laughing before prompting the other one to speak first. You avert your eyes away from his face, letting him know you won’t be the first one to speak this time, patiently waiting for him to start talking.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry if I ever made it seem like I hate you or anything, because, well, it’s quite the opposite, really,” he chuckles, wiping his hands against his pants, “I never had the guts to hold a proper conversation with you before, because honestly, I was too shy to do that, since you’re like… so smart and everything, but yeah,” he sighs again, shortly looking you in the eyes before finishing his little speech, “I’m just… sorry, I guess?”

You feel your lips tugging into a smile, shaking your head in disbelief before speaking up again. “No, I should be the one saying sorry, because I was the one acting like a bitch… I guess that were just my own insecurities getting in the way.” 

His smile mirrors yours in no time, taking your breath away as you curse in your own head. You feel crazy. So, so damn crazy for liking it so much.

“It’s okay. I guess we both had some things that came in the way. If I wasn’t acting so cold, maybe you wouldn’t hate me as much-”

“No, it’s not your fault!” you stop him, reaching out a hand to gesture him that he is talking nonsense. 

He nervously shifts his weight from one leg to another, taking a short look at his shoes, gaining all of his courage before speaking up again. “I know this may sound ridiculous, but would you maybe want to… hang out sometime?”

“Hang out?” you repeat, voice a few octaves higher than usual.

“Y-yeah,” he nods, eyes big, “I was actually thinking of asking you out on a date but since you used to hate me until now, I didn’t want to go too fast-”

“It can be a date,” you jump in. The voice in your head is screaming at you now, hell, it is running around your head and hitting the walls in anger and panic. How the hell did you end up in this position? Asking Kim Seungmin out on a date? You really must be ridiculous.

“Okay,” he smiles, urgently nodding. 

“Okay.” you grin. You exchange a daring stare into each other’s eyes before he deeply inhales and scratches the back of his neck, turning on his heel and quickly pacing to the door. You almost think he’s going to leave, but he quickly looks back and stops in his tracks, shooting you one last, bright smile.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow!” he cheers, not even letting you respond before he runs out of the door.

As the library falls into dead silence, you take a seat on the chair, sighing deeply and bringing your head into your palms resting on the table, just like many times before when Seungmin left the comfort of the library, but this time, there’s a goofy smile playing with your lips as you think of the last few minutes, chuckling to yourself. This was an outcome you did not expect from the project-- but it’s an outcome you don’t mind at all.

Romeo and Juliet fell in love at first sight. How long did it take you? 

It’s fair to say at least two weeks.

Maybe you were foolish and maybe it will hurt, but there’s something tempting at the warm feeling in your chest and the excitement Seungmin’s presence makes you feel, and that feeling alone doesn’t let you give up on this just yet. 

Your eyes fall to the opened book of Romeo and Juliet you’d left on your table just before he arrived, meaning to return the copy of the play to the library. You’re met with a sentence that makes you chuckle at the irony, the foolishness washing over you mixed with a feeling of joy you can’t quite comprehend yet, but welcome it with your arms wide open and expecting heart.

‘My only love sprung from my only hate.’

[peeterparkr]

red; tom’s version|two.

chapter two: the lucky one. “You don’t feel pretty, you feel used”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship a month after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: bottle caps, a red scarf and two coincidences that probably mean something warnings: angsty a bit, cussing, word count: 6.7k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist previous chapter next chapter

Present day. One month after the breakup.

Tom knew he had to stay quiet. Or rather, there was barely anything he could say while he was plotting his next words. He could barely believe he had a chance.

Walking down the streets with her quietly as he saw her, arranging her own thoughts. She had agreed to listen.

And he knew it was because whatever they’d felt, it made it worth it.

Y/N was angry. Not sad, angry. He had expected her to be crying. He didn’t want to be the reason why she would and he tried thinking he wasn’t. Though, deep inside, he was perfectly aware that he would be blamed for the tears that she’d shed in the last few months.

He wasn’t proud of that.

Guilt blinds. And Tom was blind in an attempt to shield. It was easier to shield on his own excuses that would serve barely as a plea to forgiveness.

Glares were directed at him. Her jaw was clenched and she had crossed her arms. The moment she’d realized what she’d agreed to, she’d turned stiff.

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom had tried asking.

“I don’t wish to speak to you.”

Fair.

And it was the middle of the night once again, how many times had they not walked under the stars with barely a destiny to reach. And now he was walking to his doom.

Y/N was mental.

In a good way. But the girl had taught him how insane you can be when it comes to relationships. In the best way possible, not as an insult.

Tom knew that he had fucked up. And he had been in New York for a while, though he hadn’t spoken to her directly, knowing that approaching her would only wound her.

It was colder now, Christmas was barely around the corner. In any other circumstance, it would’ve added to the romance.

Here it was just a bad omen of whatever would come next. The lights flickered as soon as they were walking past them.

“Are—are we not going to talk?” Tom questioned anyway. “I thought—“

Y/N shrugged. “I’m still deciding it, you see, I don’t know if I want to listen to you break my heart in an attempt of forged honesty.”

Tom dug his hands in his pockets. “I genuinely want to apologize.”

“And I genuinely don’t like you,” she snapped. “You see my problem?”

Tom sighed. “Fine,” he gulped. “But you are cold, that thing isn’t covering your neck or chest.”

Y/N had gone for a rather inadequate option for a cold winter day. Though Tom would agree that the black dress had been yet another punch to his stomach, all of course with an attempt to make him regret it, it was still rather unsuitable for the freezing city. But she looked stunning.

Her coat barely covered her, and her crossed arms were probably more of an attempt to warm herself and it served as a clear exposition of her anger.

She didn’t answer, however.

“You could wear this,” Tom offered, showing her the red scarf that once belonged to her. Tom liked to think that it now belonged to them.

The red scarf that had become a token to their relationship. From the very first day.

Y/N looked at it, and reluctantly took it. “It’s only because I’m cold.”

But Tom wanted to think it wasn’t only because of that. Wearing the scarf meant she was opening a door for him.

Seeing her again had been quite different from what Tom had expected, her hair was different and her makeup too. Her gaze seemed lost.

Whoever was standing beside him didn’t seem like her. She was a stranger, a very familiar one. But there wasn’t that visible spark that he’d fallen for. Not that he wouldn’t be able to love the figure in front of him but he feared he was the reason for its disappearance.

“It smells like you,” y/n whispered as she wrapped the scarf around her neck.

Tom smiled, briefly. “I’ve been wearing it. Your own smell wore out,” he regretted saying that. “That sounded way too creepy or cheesy.”

“Both, somehow,” she agreed. “Don’t ever say that kind of shit again.”

Tom gulped a chuckle, “noted.”

There was still that y/n in there, the one that liked the kind of cheesy things that he could say. The ones that came up at the right moment. Though, there was still that y/n that didn’t take any bullshit.

Tom hadn’t gone exactly through diamonds and sparkles after the breakup. And the city was now quite different from when it had first received him. Now covered with dark smoke and trash, with only skeletons of trees.

Guilt drowns. And Tom was, undoubtedly, drowning in a drought. Everything had dried off yet he felt like he could barely breathe.

Knowing you’re the reason for someone’s hurt is no fantasy.

And he was broken, too. Very, very broken. However, he knew he was seen as the bad guy here and he wouldn’t call himself less, and he wouldn’t admit he was aching too.

So he was trying to ignore it.

Her apartment building hadn’t changed. Not that Tom had expected it to, but it was nice to come to a familiar place. He noticed the stairs were still rusty and unclean and creaked as he walked in. New creaks had come in that he hadn’t memorized yet. He hoped he would have the chance to.

Y/N stopped at her door, with more questions than answers to give him.

“I really don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted to him. “But I know that if I don’t give you a chance to explain yourself I’ll never forgive myself.”

“That’s fair. But…I’ll do whatever you want me to, but please let me explain it to you,” he begged. “I—If you want me to leave New York and never come again I’ll understand.”

Y/N crossed her arms and leaned against the door, a red door that would open to memories he couldn’t quite forget.

“I already said I would listen,” she recalled. “But—“ her eyes met his, they looked tired. “I am having an inner monologue on why this is stupid.”

“Care to share?”

She took a heavy breath, “Well, you see, Tom, if that even is your real name…”

“Really? You’re—“Tom tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, my name is Tom.”

“Tom….”

“Holland.”

“Hm, interesting. Holland, I remembered it being something else. You’re a liar, just making sure,” she said. “I’m—I just feel stupid. Because I shouldn’t be feeling this way for such a short relationship, is that even—was it? Can we even call it that?”

Her words felt bitter to Tom’s own tongue. He understood why she was defensive. “Yes.”

“Well, I don’t fucking know, maybe we confused whatever we were feeling with love, or—“

“I didn’t—“

“Could be easy, Tommy, you’re an actor, actors, as far as I know, act, and man did you play such an amazing role,” she snarled as she opened her door, leading the way. “Be quiet, by the way, I don’t want to wake up Lula or Jules.”

Tom walked in into what seemed a messed snapshot of how he remembered the place. It was the same, in essence. But sadder. The apartment still had a few sweaters here and there, and y/N’s notebooks all over it.

He could see Lula’s leftovers in their coffee table and some candy wraps that Julia had probably been eating while reading her book.

He turned to that one corner and saw it, the jukebox that had been what had defined y/n’s and his relationship. He dug his hand into his pocket to search for the locket y/n had given back. Tom squeezed it as he searched in his pocket for something else.

Guilt kills. And Tom was dying.

“Here,” Tom said as he reached out for three beer caps in his pocket, “I brought these to you,” he offered them to her, knowing there were jars full of them.

Y/N collected them. Or rather, it was her latest collection that she’d later use for her art. Or whatever she was into at the moment.

The apartment was small. It had two bedrooms which they all shared. They’d rotate whoever had the luck to have the single room. So small. And yet it felt so big.

Y/n pursed her lips but then took the beer caps and placed them on the counter.

“We’re going to the roof,” y/n said. “I’m just getting us some wine—No,” she shook her head, probably realizing that having wine would make the moment a tad more romantic or cuddly than she expected it to be. “Make yourself useful and make some tea, I’ll go change myself, I’m freezing.”

She’d brought blankets and a hoodie he hadn’t remembered he had left. They didn’t have to go to the roof, Julia was staying with Matt and Lula was not back yet from wherever she was.

She had stayed quiet, for a bit. Cuddled up in the same couch where they—

“Do you like your tea?” Questioned Tom.

She looked up. “Yeah, you can add that to your many talents. Right before lying.”

“I make better tea than lies? Good to know.”

Y/N shrugged. “How long have you been here?”

“A… few days,” Tom admitted. “I have been trying to walk up to your door but I keep getting lost in the subway, and when I did come here I panicked and cried.”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought I saw you, the other day,” she said.

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t you,” y/n confessed. “So I just yelled at a poor stranger. I—I genuinely feel sorry for him.”

Tom tried not to chuckle. “What did you yell?”

“I called him a bastard and asked what was wrong with him,” she scrunched her nose. “Not my proudest moment. I was kicked out of the bus.”

Tom gulped. “I’m sorry,” he took a deep breath. “You can yell at me if that helps.”

She shrugged. “No, I think I’m good, I let it all out with him,” she grimaced. “But I might just—“she picked up a pillow and threw it at him with barely any energy.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “But I can be your punching bag, I deserve it,” he admired. “I see the jukebox,” Tom said, motioning to it.

She shrugged. “Yeah, would be stupid if you didn’t. It’s quite big. Barely any space left.”

Tom chuckled. “I meant—“

“No, no, I know what you mean. I’m trying to ignore it,” y/n admitted. “I notice it too, every day. Almost threw it away.”

Tom nodded. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, it’s a very functional jukebox, the music on it,” she said. “It would be stupid to throw out something like that.”

Tom had expected a different answer, one rather more romantic. Like, that maybe throwing it out would’ve meant throwing him away.

“Right. I’m surprised the cops haven’t come for it.”

She smiled.

She… smiled?

She smiled.

Tom hadn’t thought he would see it again. So comforting. And genuine. Not forced.

“It’s not stolen,” she reminded him, “not really.”

Tom decided to smile back, but to himself. He couldn’t really look her in the eye.

“I guess I also kept it for the same reason why you kept that stupid scarf,” y/n added. Quieter now.

Tom took a deep breath. “It’s a fashionable accessory.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “It’s been out of fashion for 10 years.”

“Trends come back.”

Y/N looked up. “Not when they're horrible, no,” she said with a heavy breath. “I don’t—“She shook her head. “No, we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Tom questioned.

“Talk like you didn’t break my heart,” she snarked, gulping down her thoughts. “I always knew your heart never truly belonged to me, you know?” y/n said, holding to her mug. The tea was probably cold now. As so were they.

Tom was taken aback by that statement. “I—at the beginning—“

“No, it never truly did. Not completely.”

“I—“ but Tom didn’t have an answer to it.

The night was cold and New York was still awake. But it felt like it was them and only them even if they felt like oceans apart. He hated it. The first time he’d ever been truly lucky he had run out of luck.

Y/N watched him. “I always knew it was meant to be for a short time and I didn’t need anything more, I somehow knew that you’d hurt me,” she explained.

Tom had never meant to go this far. “I never meant—“

“Imagine if you had meant it though, how crushed would I have been. It wasn’t your intention, and yet I ended up crying on the floor,” she said, ironically

Tom couldn’t say more but an “I am so sorry.”

“I know you are,” she said. “I hope you are.”

Tom stared at her, “I am.”

Y/N directed him a single glance. “I don’t think you understand, Tom. This month has been the shittiest in my life.”

Tom didn’t have enough words to apologize. Or he had too many to say. Instead, he could word out anything.

“The worst part is that you also gave me the best fucking days of my life,” she continued. “So I’m at a crossroads here. Because there’s a part of me that thinks it was all bullshit and there’s also the part that knows it couldn’t be.”

Tom watched her. “It was not bullshit,” he said. “It was real.”

“That’s the worst part,” she pointed out. “I think, yeah, all of it being real then it makes it hurt even more because that means I lost the best thing to ever happen to me and you lost something so real.”

Tom nodded. “I lost the best thing to ever happen to me, too.”

Y/N was, without a doubt, the best thing he’d never looked for.

“Did you lose it because of me? Or did you lose me?” She quickly questioned, raising her brows.

Y/N was also a murderer.

“Well,” she took a deep breath, ignoring his sight as he was trying to know how to Answer. “You better start explaining yourself.”

“Before I—I… I… Right, well—Before I came here—I—Ella—“

She closed her eyes. “Actually, no.”

Tom paused, in fear.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, we will….” Y/N tried arranging her thoughts. “Tell me from the moment you hopped on the plane.”

Tom stayed quiet.

“I need to know how it looked from the moment you arrived, not… before, although I’m risking the fact you’re an unreliable narrator.”

“I am a terrible narrator,” he admitted.

Two months before the breakup. Tom’s version.

Tom remembered how little it had taken him to make the decision to escape. He had decided to escape from what everyone told him he should love.

With a backpack, his passport and a half ass made suitcase, he had hopped on the first flight to New York. No regrets as it had taken off. Sweet Escape airlines had been so kind to him.

Not telling anyone about it. To their eyes, he probably was only late to a party, and they’d see him in a few minutes with an excuse of an apology.

Yet, he was on a plane. Escaping from the perfect life.

They always said how lucky he was. Didn’t they? How incredible it was to have what he had. Because he had everything.

And he was running away from it. He watched the people on the plane, his seat was unflattering, next to an old lady who seemed to be rather impolite.

He remembered when he had made the decision to run out, the night before, a camera flash had blinded him and time had suddenly stopped. Just a few hours before hopping on the plane. Everyone expected him to do something he was not ready for. Everyone thought it would come.

Even Eleanor.

Especially Eleanor. Ella was probably counting only the minutes for his arrival. He had promised her he would be there.

No one could ever judge Tom for the decision he had made. Well, everyone would. But Tom liked to believe they couldn’t. As a technicality, that is. That they had absolutely no right to do it.

His parents wouldn’t be proud of it. Too bad.

Tom was nervous, though. The decision had been, undoubtedly, rushed. He hadn’t shown up to that early brunch.

Still wearing a suit, with a white buttoned shirt unbuttoned on his neck. He had still almost gone to that brunch in that FancyAss restaurante.

A brunch? He thought to himself. How incredibly out of character it seemed, he had become a caricature of whatever they wanted him to be.

Did he have to apologize to Eleanor? He didn’t want to.

He really didn’t want to.

He looked at his phone, Harry was calling him. A few other texts from his mother, too. Two missed calls from Ella. Probably wondering why he was late. He hoped they didn’t wait for him, for he would never arrive.

New York was a bit far from it.

The whole flight had been him trying to figure out if it was a good choice.

But he was given an ultimatum, and when those come you have to decide.

His decision was to go to New York. And it was the best choice.

It was, of course, but it was alright to doubt it. It was not likely of him to simply run away.

He didn’t have it all figured out. And that’s why he was clutching his backpack. He was chasing a dream that he didn’t even know he had.

Maybe that’s why he was running away. He didn’t know who he was. But of course he had heard it, how he looked like a million bucks. And he had said it to everyone else the night before, how the stars looked like diamonds in the skies.

He was making a name for himself, he knew that. Or rather, they were making a name for him. And he didn’t know who he was.

The flight was rather short, or maybe Tom barely had any time to think about it.

Running away from his own country, from his family, friends and from Ella, whom he barely had a title for right now.

The city was quick to receive him with bustling crowds, people pushing and rushing. But also opening up as he was walking in. Dancing around him.

How magical. He thought to himself as he tried texting Harrison, hoping his best friend wouldn’t mind receiving him at his place.

Tom managed to get a taxi that was waiting right outside the airport.

He hopped in and grinned to himself proudly. He was there.

With a new city ahead of him and no one expecting anything from him. With no one telling him what to do, with no one giving him an ultimatum and no one with orders for him.

“Where to?” Asked the taxi driver, as he stared from the mirror.

Tom, though he was not proud of it, was having a moment. “I’m running away from my life,” Tom explained. “don’t you ever get tired of the role you’re supposed to play? Like you were not meant to play it but now you’re too stuck in it.”

“Man, I'm sorry, I ain’t got no time for that kind of poeticbullshit, I need an address.”

The moment ended quickly. “Right. Sorry. I’m an idiot… uh, it’s this one.” Tom had to look up for Haz’s address.

“Every time,” the driver sighed, chuckling. “Why do y’all think New York is some sort of magical city that will give you the answer to whatever you’re going through.”

Tom’s smile widened sarcastically, “Well, isn’t it?”

“Guess it is, in a way, but I’ll tell you something,” the driver stated, “whatever you think New York will give to you, it'll be the very opposite. It won’t be what you want but it might just be what you need.”

“Oh really?” Tom chuckled, “who’s the one with the poetic crap now?”

“No, I’m messing with you, damn all you tourists believe that kind of thing huh? New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of huh.”

“It’s what we’re sold,” Tom gave in.

“That sounds pretty, don’t it? To not get what you want but what you need.”

“It does.”

In a way, he was right. Tom would’ve thought he needed a break. To escape. That’s what he wanted right?

But what did he need?

The city welcomed him with a short rain, the water reflected the twinkling lights, as the shadows were reflecting the life he had left behind. The people rushed with their coats, as they were off to their lives. And it felt like he was finally breathing.

Although he would not share his thoughts with the driver again, Tom thought this was what he needed. A new start with no one that would judge him.

That’s probably why he’d chosen New York, the people are too busy living their own crazy lives to focus on someone so insignificant like him. He didn’t have to be whoever he was before, the pretty face, the cool guy everyone liked.

No, he was a guy in a stupid cab, and not to be worried if they said he hadn’t chosen a better ride, on a bigger car.

No, no announcement of whatever he was going to do on the papers because his dad had arranged it.

No, now he was but what he always wanted to be. One of those cautionary tales that they tell about people who go mad and escape and live.

He was a legend now.

Maybe they were right, he was lucky. He was lucky because he had finally made it out of there.

And he saw the lights, with Broadway shows waiting for him, with new adventures coming. With a new life that he wanted to create. The Broadway signs changed to Tom’s sight.

‘A very new life for the Lucky One.’ Starring Tom Holland.

A new beginning.

Maybe he was lucky. Though he never wanted to be in the spotlight. He constantly was, though.

Except, of course, for the fact that Haz hadn’t really answered his text the way he wanted to.

Haz probably didn’t believe Tom that he was in the city.

He would just knock at the door then.

“Well man, I hope whatever kind of role you want you get it,” the driver had said as Tom had hopped off.

Harrison’s building was far from fancy. Harrison had often described it as an ‘affordable pigsty’. Tom wouldn’t describe it as anything else.

But it was perfect. The perfect stage for his new charade.

Tom carried the now heavier backpack and suitcase up and was lucky enough that someone had entered the building so he could go up and show up uninvited to Haz’s apartment. If he could call it that.

He knocked, two times and Haz opened the door.

“Piss off, you’re not actually here!” Was the way Haz had decided to greet.

Tom laughed. “I fucking am.”

“You bastard,” Haz grinned before pulling his friend into a hug. “No way, I didn’t believe you. Man, I’m so glad to see you!”

“You too, man your place is…” Tom couldn’t finish.

“A pigsty but it’s home, I’ll make some place.”

And they had.

Haz had left a few years ago, with a dream in his head and a chance to make it. Or… a chance to get a chance to make it.

Leaving London had been quite such a simple decision for him. An inspiring actor that could’ve made it back at home but decided to leave for New York? It was stupid, honestly. Very anticlimactic of him.

But like Tom, Harrison had to escape before he was pulled in.

Just like Tom had been, tangled up. Tom’s ‘big break’ had yet to come but his family had managed to get him to the rising star he was.

He loved what he did, acting was definitely his true passion but not like this. Not buying his way into parts, not going out with someone so he could be considered. Hanging around with the right people just so they could get him a role.

Haz had gone for plays instead, and Tom knew he was fantastic. But he also had to get his big break. The industry had a funny way to say this.

“So, you just left?” Haz asked with a beer in his hand as he’d taken Tom to his favorite bar. Beers were cheaper there, and given that it was a Thursday, the happy hour lasted longer.

The bar was different from what Tom had expected. An old jukebox that was playing odd songs, colorful things. Very odd.

“I bloody just left,” Tom admitted. “What was I supposed to do?”

Harrison rubbed his face, “I dunno.”

“I couldn’t keep pretending,” Tom said, as he played with the bottle. “I—It wasn’t me.”

“But didn’t you just get cast in—something important?” He questioned.

Tom sighed, “Not for talent, no.”

He had seen a girl walk up to the jukebox and pay again to play “Twist and Shout” by The Beatles, she moved her head along to the song.

“Man, who bloody cares?” Haz rolled his eyes bringing the attention back to him. “You’re getting somewhere! You look pretty, you’re cool, and you’re getting somewhere.”

Tom knew where Haz was coming from. Things were going perfectly, one could argue. But it didn’t feel real. It was just a game of make believe where Tom had eventually been dug in.

“It wasn’t that,” Tom admitted. “Ella gave me an ultimatum.”

Harrison stopped, probably now understanding more why he had left. “And how do you feel about that?”

Tom stared at his beer. “Not how I’m supposed to.”

Harrison watched him. “One can only pretend for so long.”

“Yeah,” Tom sighed as he undressed the beer bottle.

“Does anyone know you escaped?” Haz asked.

Tom grimaced, pulling out his phone, turned off. “No, well, Harry knows, I told him I had left but didn’t tell him where to,” he said before unwillingly turning it back on, to show the billion notifications popping up. Multiple text messages, missed calls. “I need a new phone so I can keep this one turned off.”

“I think you should tell someone, otherwise they’re going to call the police or something,” Haz suggested.

Tom sighed, “Before I do let me go get another round,” he said as he headed to the bar.

Though Tom should’ve known right then and there that his life would change, he was very oblivious as he saw a couple. The beautiful girl sitting right beside… some guy. The very same girl who had played ‘Twist and Shout’.

She wasn’t smiling anymore, and Tom could only interpret her stare as something unpleasant. The guy and her were both stiff.

Tom couldn’t blame the guy because he was often criticized for also being like him. Not being able to make the beautiful girl beside him smile. Not understanding her worth and brilliance as anyone else in the room did.

She had dressed up, it seemed, just for her very date and he was just… there. The guy was simply an unuseful accessory adorning her side. His eyes were glued to the TV on the bar, a program that seemed to be very uneventful.

Tom often liked overhearing conversations, and this time wasn’t an exception.

“I recently discovered my new collection,” the girl said. Tom noticed the scarf on her neck,“I will start collecting bottle caps.”

The guy looked over, “Is it going to be for your new project that you’ll never finish?”

“I will finish it,” she said as she took off the scarf, now playing with it, tying and untying it. “And I’m going to ask Ben here to save me as many as he can.”

“Y/N,” the guy said. Pretty name, thought Tom. Fitting. “You never finish them.”

“Art is never finished, William,” the girl, y/n, defended again. “It’s only… abandoned.”

“My point,” The guy, William, rolled her eyes, “You never get through with them.”

“I do,” she defended herself. “You just never pay attention to it.”

Tom watched her frustration. Even then the guy wasn’t really into the conversation. He didn’t blame him, really. But he was more on y/n’s side.

“I think you should pay attention to more important stuff. Instead of wasting your time doing whatever.”

“Art isn't whatever,” she sighed, and then frowned, noticing Tom was watching them.

“I’m not saying it’s whatever, y/n, but you’ve got to have other dreams rather than collecting beer caps.”

Y/N looked away, “It’s for a painting.”

“A painting you’ll get bored of eventually, it’s always the same, y/n,” the guy was still too busy with his own beer watching the TV.

Y/N clenched her jaw but then directed her glance at Tom, still intrigued by the conversation.

Tom cleared his throat as he finally got his beers, the guy opened them for him but Tom asked for the beer caps.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen,” Tom admitted before giving her the beer caps. “Good luck on your project.” The girl finally smiled as the guy accompanying her glared at him.

Tom shrugged and dedicated them both a smile before going back to Harrison. Had Tom been William he would’ve appreciated that someone made his girl smile, it was a waste not to share her smile with the world.

And Tom, out of everyone, understood what the girl had said, people bringing him down were always for him so to have genuine support from a stranger would help her. And him.

Yes never getting anything done but still having a passion for it was accomplishment enough.

“So what’s your plan?” Haz asked as soon as he was back. Tom watched the girl, still.

“I have none,” Tom admitted, watching as y/n and William were still arguing, probably now over the fact that Tom had left the beer caps. He didn’t feel guilty, even when both of them were pointing at him as the argument kept going. “I will just—Get a break for a few days. A well deserved vacation.”

Haz watched him. “Right.”

“You know, be a tourist,” Tom shrugged. “I—I dunno I just needed to get out,” Tom sipped from his bottle as his eyes were glued to the couple, now arguing loudly but not loud enough to be understood.

Haz followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“Dunno, they’re odd,” Tom shrugged. But they weren’t really. He just saw his future, so uninterested to the girl beside him.

“Not really, you should get used to that,” Haz said. “But—You’re going to tell Harry, right!”

“Problem is,” Tom brought back the attention to Haz. “I don’t think Harry will be able to keep the secret.”

Harrison crossed his arms. “What are you really doing here Tom? You do realize that you’re hurting everyone—“

“Yeah, yeah fuck that, I know, I feel guilty. But—I can’t anymore. I couldn’t fucking stay there, not anymore,” Tom snapped. “It’s not Ella’s fault. Well not entirely but—“

“No, I know,” Haz rolled his eyes, “guess the perfect life can get boring.”

Harrison thought so too then. That Tom had the perfect life. How was it perfect? How was it really? Tom was not perfect. He was far from it, nothing about it was spectacular. He wasn’t living. Even though everyone around him thought he was having the time of his life Tom couldn’t help but feel miserable.

He wasn’t getting what he truly wanted. He didn’t enjoy the roles he was getting or the parties he was attending. He was far from what his dream was. And though his ‘breakout’ would come eventually and he’d have the chance to be who he wanted to be, it wasn’t coming any time soon and he doubted that he’d be able to be happy.

Or maybe he would be. He needed a break.

Tom caught up with Haz, his life, his misery and whatever the conversation led to, it’s fair to say that Tom’s head could barely pay any attention. His decision was sinking. He’d escaped his life.

He saw the girl from before leave, with the guy following her with frustration.

“They’re gonna break up,” Haz said watching them too.

Tom saw the girl had left the unfashionable red scarf behind.

He expected them to come back for them but they didn’t.

Eventually, Tom and Haz left. Tom picked up the scarf. He tried to say that it was a little reminder that he’d helped someone. He had actually been drawn to it. He couldn’t explain why. So he kept that idea.

Of course, he’d seen the red scarf and then regretted instantly taking it. Haz had judged him too.

“Why the fuck would you pick up a stranger’s scarf?”

“Because.”

The next day, with very little sleep and a bit of a headache from the jet lag and the beers, and after telling Haz he’d be productive, he decided he wouldn’t be and instead he wanted to visit a museum. Again, he was unsure as to why he wanted to go there. Lately he only followed his instinct.

But then again he had escaped so he could do whatever he wanted, and going to a museum seemed like something they’d never expect him to do. So that’s what he did.

But of course, he didn’t know much about art or anything so he decided he’d end up at the MET. Where else would he start?

He had planned getting on the subway but he decided he didn’t have time to memorize it and he didn’t want to look like an idiot so instead he took another cab. He didn’t tell the drivers this time any poetic bullshit.

When he got to the MET, he was immediately lost. Tom had this stupid habit of never knowing where the hell he was.

He didn’t mind this time. He would take the time to explore, to think to himself. To stare and read and to learn a little.

How ironic it seemed to be at the place where so many people were at. Basic, maybe but he was still enjoying it.

The big walls and endless exhibitions were making him feel small. And he hadn’t felt that way in a while. He liked that.

His path wasn’t being decided and he only followed his heart. He got to the musical instruments exhibitions.

A piano made him stop. It resonated with him. In some sorts, or it was interesting enough for him to make him stop.

“That’s the oldest surviving piano,” a voice mentioned from behind.

Tom blinked, realizing he had stared too long at it. “Oh?” He looked back at the voice and though Tom did not believe in coincidences he couldn’t help but think this was an oddly magical one.

The beer cap girl from the night before.

“Yeah, it dates back to 1538 and was created by—pardon my pronunciation—Bartolomeo Cristofori, the Italian man who is credited with inventing the piano,” she said, staring at it too. Her hair was slightly messed up. Wearing an overall that was covered with slight paint stains, a white cardigan over it.

“Oh, I would’ve never thought that,” Tom said. “It looks old.”

“Yeah,” she hadn’t looked at him, she was too entranced by it, her arms were crossed. “It's very old.”

Tom stared at her instead, how weird it was. He should’ve brought the scarf. No, that would’ve been weird, weirder than taking it.

“So you work here?” Tom questioned.

“No, I’m just incredibly good at lying,” she stated.

“Wha-what?”

“That fact I gave you, yeah that was a lie,” she grinned and finally turned to him. She tilted her head.

“Oh it sounded… very real,” Tom felt like an idiot.

“Yeah, I’ve worked on that for a while, lying to tourists, you’re my first one of the day,” she said. “So, a pleasure lying to someone with an accent.”

“It sounded very real,” Tom cleared his throat.

“I know, it’s a real fact, just slightly twisted,” she grinned. “I gave you the date wrong.”

Tom coughed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, and you straight up believed me,” she grinned. “The date is right there yet you listened to a random weirdo,” she grinned.

Tom blushed, “well, you sounded very—“

“No, don’t feel bad, it’s an art, lying to people,” she grinned.

He nodded in agreement.

She watched him curiously, “Do I know you?”

Tom faked to not recognize her. “I don’t think so.”

She narrowed her eyes, examining him head to toe. Then stopping at his face. “No, wait, were you at Bennie’s Beer Garden last night?”

She had recognized him.

“Uh—I was at a bar,” he decided to fake ignorance. “Oh—“he snapped his finger. “Wait are you—?”

“Beer cap girl, yeah,” she smiled. “Yeah, that was me, but I looked better last night.”

Tom smiled, “No, you look fine.”

“What a coincidence, thanks for the beer caps, by the way,” she chuckled. “How weird, and now you’re the first one I lie to.”

“It’s a pleasure, thank you,” Tom laughed.

“You must think I’m crazy, collecting beer caps and lying to strangers,” she blushed now, stepping back from him.

Tom did think that. In a good way. The girl seemed to be whatever he wanted to be: a fucking weirdo that don’t give two shits about anything in life.

“Surprisingly, no,” Tom shook his head. “I would lie to people instead if I was good at lying.”

Ironic, it seemed. Didn’t he make a living out of lying? Didn’t he technically lie his way through life?

“Yes, it's very tiring work, people say they don’t like being lied to,” she said. “I do, that’s why I love reading whatever is trending on twitter.”

Tom cackled, and turned his attention back to the piano.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” she mentioned casually.

“Tom,” he answered simply.

Y/N nodded. “So, Tom, what's your favorite lie supplier?”

“I watch movies,” he said, “or celebrity gossip.”

“A classic,” Y/N grinned. “Yeah, we all choose the lies we want to believe, I guess.”

“People like that, believing lies and feeling like they’re true,” Tom gave in. “Especially if they’re pretty. They help us escape reality.”

Y/N nodded slowly, and smirked. “We are getting deep now, huh?”

What the fuck did New York do to Tom that he randomly said poetic bullshit to strangers. He was embarrassed. “I—sorry.”

“No, no, I like that,” y/n was excited. “I guess you’re right. Lies are a way to cover something.”

“Yes, sometimes lying means protecting,” Tom bit his lip.

Y/N tilted her head. “Is it really?” She didn’t want to agree. “I would say lying is a way to actively hurt someone.”

“Well, were you trying to hurt me with your lie?” Tom challenged.

She licked her lips, defeated. “In a way,” she gave in. “I was trying to misinform you. So.”

“Well, what if the truth hurts more?” Tom questioned.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Then it’s a paradox.”

“Excuse me,” Someone interrupted them. “I’m sorry, y/n? I thought you weren’t coming today.”

Y/N smiled, “oh yeah, I wasn’t, I just forgot something in my locker and decided to walk around.”

The other guy turned to Tom. “Did she give you a fake fact?”

Tom chuckled, “she most certainly did.”

“Y/N, you can’t keep doing that,” the guy warned her. “You’re gonna get fired.”

Y/N grinned as she watched the guy go.

“I thought you didn’t work here,” Tom chuckled.

Y/N smiled mischievously, “I do, just another lie I said to you. You’re very lucky, two lies in one.”

Tom chuckled. “huh. Yeah, lucky me.”

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse me, little British man,” she grinned. “I’ll go lie to other people, nice lying to you.”

Tom grinned. “Yeah, yeah, nice… believing your lies.”

“Enjoy the Met,” she grinned. “Hope I get to see you again, thanks for the beer caps.”

“Thanks for the… lies,” he said, watching her leave. Maybe he was lucky.

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[mhevarujta]

Zoya and the Darkling [Rule of Wolves Spoilers]

It’s a pity that fandoms mostly focus on romantic/sexual relationships, because The Darkling and Zoya have one of the most epic dynamics in the Grishaverse. The way they affect each other is so complex.

Zoya did not go to the Little Palace after being tested in the usual manner of Grisha travelling across Ravka to recruit children with powers. She was a young girl, a child really, living with a bitter and broken mother, in a home where her Suli inheritance was not appreciated, in a country that would condemn her both because of the power she let her demonstrated AND because of who she would have been without it. She was basically sold as a child-bride and her mother deluded herself into thinking that her daughter would not be raped by the old man she was marrying so that she’d feel better about herself, not to mention that she poisoned Zoya with her fears and made her afraid of her own heart. At the wedding her power broke loose and her aunt took her to a hard journey to the Little Palace so that Zoya would be tested and have a chance at a better life.

Zoya was taken in and she was separated from her family, but her aunt was ALWAYS in her heart. She started training and she was stronger than most, she was also driven and resilient. She arrived at the Little Palace when she was 8-9. When she was 13, she was the youngest one to be chosen as part of a group that would travel with the Darkling to Tsibeya to find the white tigers of Ilmisk because one of them was supposed to be an amplifier. By that age, Zoya was half in love with him already and she lived for his rare appearances at the school. She was the best, she had fought to be so, and he wanted him to see it. The Grisha were focused on hunting the female tiger, but the amplifier was a male one. He tried to kill the female’s cubs and Zoya gave them the protection of her body, she got scars that she never had tailored and she almost died, and killed the tiger to defend the cubs; not for the sake of power.

It wasn’t HER turn to get the amplifier, but since she killed the tiger only she could claim it. And THIS brilliant scene happens:

Some part of me always feared that he would send me away, banish me forever from the Little Palace. I told him I was sorry.

“But the Darkling saw me clearly even then. ‘Is that really what you wish to say?’ he asked.”

Zoya pushed a dark strand of her hair behind her ear. “So I told him the truth. I put my chin up and said, ‘They can all hang. It was my blood in the snow.’”

Nikolai stifled a laugh and a smile played over Zoya’s lips. It dwindled almost instantly, replaced by a troubled frown. “That pleased him. He told me it was a job well done. And then he said … ‘Beware of power, Zoya. There is no amount of it that can make them love you.’”

The weight of the words settled over Nikolai. Is that what we’re all searching for? Was that what he’d hunted in all those library books? In his restless travels? In his endless pursuit to seize and then keep the throne? “Was it love you wanted, Zoya?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. I wanted … strength. Safety. I never wanted to feel helpless again.”

  “Like calls to like” fits the Darkling and Alina, but it also fits Zoya and the Darkling… in fact it fits Zoya and Aleksander even more so. Both were powerful and KNEW it. Both eventually learned to be unapologetic about it and saw it as their safety net. Both were taught that power would give them safety, survival, fulfillment in some ways, but not love. And yet, as much as they denied it and hid their hearts they DID want to be loved more than anything.

Zoya only rises thereafter. She gets her rank, she is one of the most valued Grisha in the Little Palace, she is admired for her strength and beauty, she armors herself with arrogance, and ruthlessness. But she has not friends. Both her and the Darkling are surrounded by people, they are admired, but they don’t have people close to their heart. The Darkling always cared about Baghra as much as he could still manage and Zoya cared only bout Liliyana and Lada (an orphan girl that her aunt had taken in).

The Darkling SAW her. He saw how she tried like no other, he saw her pain, her anger and he considered these to be things that he could use to control her and to push her towards the direction he desired. And despite not being appreciative of her devotion when he had it, he missed it when it was gone.

When Alina got in the picture everything changed for Zoya. Yes, Zoya had feelings for the Darkling and I DO believe that her feelings and vanity would have been hurt to some extent by the intimacy in the way he approached Alina, but the primary problem was Zoya’s sense of injustice. Zoya had tried for YEARS, had trained hard, had sacrificed to be where she is. Alina never asked for any of it, but from Zoya’s perspective Alina would have been an untrained Grisha who got all the status, power and recognition that SHE had fought for without even trying. Until then, Zoya had been praised for wanting power, but when her anger is not convenient anymore, the Darkling punishes her for it and does not have a second thought about her.

And yet she remained loyal as always.

Even more so than rank, the Darkling and Liliyana were Zoya’s safety-net. And in ONE MOMENT, by genociding Novokribirsk, Zoya’s own mentor, the one who gave her safety and who was meant to create a haven for the Grisha, a person who KNEW her and who KNEW that she had family there, showed that he had no care for her, not care for human life and she wiped out the last people that Zoya loved.

He left her broken inside. In Siege and Storm, Zoya was at her lowest. She has to plead to Alina to have a position in the second army and she has to reveal a part of her heart; not just her loss of Liliyana. Her voice BREAKS when she says that the Darkling could have warned her of his plan; her pain at the idea that he did not give a crap about taking EVERYTHING from her is raw and cutting.

But she is not a quitter. She adjusts, she pulls her pieces together fast, she is a warrior and she stays on the right side without a question.

Then the Darkling attacked the very Grisha he was supposedly fighting for and killed half the people that Zoya had EVER KNOWN. And she still keeps fighting.

 Enter Rule of Wolves. There is SUCH DEEP IRONY in this book and the way Zoya and the Darkling’s arcs interconnect is a prime example of Leigh’s amazing writing.

The Darkling had told Zoya that they would change the world and he completely stopped paying attention to her the moment the potential of Alina’s power blinded him to anything else. And yet, when he returns Zoya has gained the kind of power that could eventually rival his own. But he STILL thinks that he should be the one to rule Ravka. He still thinks that he is the best option for the country. And once more, he criminally underestimates Zoya and overestimates himself.

Who else is vengeful and afraid of his own heart, I wonder…

Aleksander considered Zoya weak for the very same things that were his own fatal flaws.

But unlike him, Zoya SAW her flaws. The Darkling shut himself off more and more in order to save himself from pain. Zoya eventually opened up her heart to grief and pain to become the person her country needed and to embrace her power. She opened the door, when the Darkling did not manage to do so. She showed more courage than he did… and he SAW it.

Aleksander hoped to become the savior during the battle, he wished to demonstrate how only HE could save Ravka. But seeing Nikolai and Zoya defending the country is the first time it registers that there are others who are up to the task and who may be better suited than he is.

And he becomes essential in Zoya being accepted as a saint and in her rise to power partly because he wants to gain her favor but also because he finally sees all her potential, all she can achieve, how a Grisha queen of such power might give the Grisha the haven they need, when he clearly can’t.

And what is left for him to do? What does he want? He wants to serve the country he loves in a way that will affirm his sense of self-importance (he wants to offer something that no one else can) and he wants to be loved. So his new objective is to stop the blight.

The blight was created because of his own power. This man who hunted down and ruined the life of a young girl (Alina) in order to force her to be his balance, so that he could freely use his power in a very imbalanced way, finally realizes that HE is responsible for his power and that HE can be the only one to balance it and himself. So there is a new path he sees ahead of him: he can sacrifice himself to stop the blight and in the process Ravka might finally see that he always wanted to protect the country… and it might love him back. He KNOWS that he has committed crimes, he does not seek redemption, but he desired for all he has done to matter. And it can’t matter if he is not at all responsible for its country’s well-being and if everyone hates him. He has lived so many lifetimes without happiness or fulfillment and they would all have been wasted.

But he can’t achieve this by himself. This man who always thought that he could do things alone, and who took away everything Zoya had fought for, NEEDS her allowance for his centuries-long life to gain a scrap of meaning. He needs her allowance to be appreciated and loved.

I can’t be the only one who sees what a beautiful twist of fate this is.

At the same time Zoya herself understands the Darkling. She understands how anger and using power as a coping mechanism can corrupt. Knowing herself and seeing how he turned out are essential in her becoming a good ruler. He is the cautionary tale of what she could but will never allow herself to become.

When he explains his plan, she KNOWS that he’ll be in eternal pain and she has does not mind that his will be his fate. But when she sees the aftermath of his sacrifice and when she feels the kind of pain he’ll be experiencing for eternity, it leaves her shaken. She feels that pain in her own heart and this is not a fate that she wishes even on him. Genya and Alina are very much willing to let him rot but Zoya, who also believed that she could forgive him, feels that she has to.The Darkling has not redeem himself. He is doing penance. But as Genya mentions, there’s a fine line when one has to do the math of how much a person has to pay and of how much pain they have to feel before their punishment stops being just and they become victims instead. Zoya, being afraid of becoming him, knows that learning to show forgiveness is the only way forward, it’s the way for her to keep her heart open and not become the avalanche.

Zoya Nazyalensky has become everything that Aleksander Morozova, the lost boy, wished to be. Poweful, eternal, with friends, with a true partner, holding the best position a Grisha could imagine without forcing her rule and finally giving their people a true chance without comprominsing them. 

The Darkling was hoping that Alina would have been his balance. We are told how she might make him a better man and she might make him a monster.

But at the end of the day it’s Zoya who allows the Darkling to become the closest thing to decent that he can be at this point.

It’s the Darkling’s life that allows Zoya to see the lines that she will not cross and how to not become a monster.

And it’s Zoya’s ability to forgive him and her willingness to save him that becomes the backbone for the next phase of the Grishaverse, whenever Leigh decides to write it.

The way their paths entangle will always be at the core of the story.

_______________________

@myfriendscallmeraba​ I’m tagging you because you asked for it. It’s very encouraging to have someone interested in my ramblings.

[persepholline]

I've read that article about the romanticization of the Darkling and while I absolutely understand people who are pissed off/sad and I agree that it's shitty, I find LB's attitude towards Darkles stans very funny in a "girl what are you doing" sort of way because it's so petty like I've never heard of a bestselling author writing a portion of their fans into their books as a crazy cult before, it clearly hit a nerve

I'm new to the fandom but the feeling I get is she wrote something problematic ten years ago and became very embarrassed about it afterwards so she turned on the fans that liked it as a way to absolve herself. Especially since fandoms in general have become a lot more focused on discussion of what constitutes healthy/acceptable relationships to write about. And in a way I get it I had a huge Twilight phase in high school and afterwards I was super embarassed about it because of how problematic and cringe it was. But now with distance and more maturity I'm able to both still see why it was problematic and also why I was drawn to it (mostly the very unhinged representation of female desire) and like...it's really not the end of the world and no it never made me believe that breaking into somebody's room at night to watch them sleep was actually ok in real life lmao. This feels so obvious to me but apparently it needs to be said.

(More under the break this is turning into an essay, I've been thinking of this a lot recently)

And of course it's good to have these discussions about how historically romance tropes have echoed social dynamics of men's shitty behavior being romanticized and excused. But these days they often are so simplistic and focused on chasing clout that they become this weird new puritanism and moral panic about oh now women are reading novels it's going to make them hysterical or something

So you have these weird assumptions that you can't like a character and also be critical of their actions, or enjoy certain parts of a character and not others, or wish they were written differently and like them more for their potential (which I'm sure stings a bit for an author lol) - it assumes that if you like a character it means you would approve of their actions in real life, or that people just stupidly reproduce whatever they see on TV. That tendency to treat fictional characters like real people is the thing that actually worries me, to be honest, because it indicates a lack of distance and critical capacities regarding how stories are used and received. But people - fans and authors - are so scared of being called out as problematic and harassed for it that they're going to shy away from any nuance.

And yeah I think that it's good that standards of what constitutes an ideal relationship are evolving and becoming more feminist and communicative and all that and we definitely need more of that. But not all fiction has to be aspirational! Sometimes you just want to read about fucked up shit, because it's cathartic or fascinating, even healing at times because with fiction you are absolutely in control and can choose when to close the book. Toxic relationships in fiction can have an appeal specifically because they go to extremes of feeling that we don't want to go to in reality, in exactly the same way as horror movies or very violent action movies - which I don't see a lot of people besides fundamentalist Christians argue that they turn you into violent psychopaths (and that feels very obviously sexist). And for women, who are often taught growing up that love is the purpose of life, the "saving someone with your ability to love" can be a power fantasy in the same way that being a buff superhero who saves the day with their capacity for incredible violence can be a power fantasy for men. Still doesn't mean those women are going to fall in love with actual murderers or that those men are going to start beating up people at night. And love is scary, and weird, and weirdly close to horror at times, with all the potential for loss of self and being vulnerable and overwhelming feelings and potential for being horribly hurt and it should be possible for stories to explore that without anybody screaming about how this is going to Corrupt the Youth or something

And I mean I get it LB wanted to write a cautionary tale for teenagers, but it just did not work for reasons a lot of people have already written about - the fact that the Darkling is the leader of an oppressed minority and is the only one with a real political agenda to end that oppression in the first trilogy, the fact that he helps Alina come into her own power while her endgame LI is someone she keeps herself small for, that she's shamed for wanting power after growing up without any, a generally very wonky conception of privilege, and a lot of other stuff with yucky regressive implications to the point where stanning the villain actually feels liberating and empowering which is a surefire sign that the narrative is broken (unless it's a villain focused story lmao). But of course that Fanside article makes almost no mention of the political dynamics, it's all about interpersonal stuff which is an annoying trend in YA, there are those massive events happening in the background but it's made all about the feelings of the hero(ine) ; war as a self-development quest (which is kind of gross). Helnik is kind of an example of this too - I like them, I think they're fun ! But Matthias spends a big part of the story wanting to brutally murder Nina and her kind, and he mostly changes his mind because he finds her hot. Like you don't feel there is some sort of big revelation that his entire moral system and political framework is completely rotten ; it's all better because of feelings now.

As a teenager that kind of sanctimonious bullshit would have annoyed the hell out of me ; I read those books in my early twenties and I found the ending so stupid I wouldn't have trusted any message or life lessons coming from them. And I liked reading/watching dark stuff as a teenager, as a way to deal with the very intense inner turmoil I was dealing with - and I turned out fine ! Meanwhile I've seen several times women in very shitty relationships being obsessed with positive energies and stories ; they were so terrified of their life not being perfectly wholesome they ended up being delusional about their own situations.

Like personally I think the Darkling is a compelling, interesting, alluring character and also a manipulative, murderous piece of shit and that Alina should get to punish him (like in a sexy way) - but he's also the end result of centuries of war, oppression and trauma and reducing that to "toxic wounded boy" feels kind of offensive ngl ESPECIALLY since the books don't offer any kind of systemic analysis or response to oppression beyond "the bad guy should die" and "now the king/queen is a good guy our problems are solved!!!!"

In Lives of the Saints, we see how Yuri is abused extremely badly and almost killed by his father, and so when his father dies when the Fold swallows Novokribirsk, he thinks the Starless Saint has saved him. Later in KoS/RoW he's turned into this fanatic who explains away all the Darkling's crimes. The other followers talk about how the Starless Saint will bring equality for all men. Then the Darkling comes back and actually thinks his followers are pathetic, which feels again like a very pointed message to his IRL stans. Which is absolutely hilarious to me. Like oh no, if he was real he would not like you and think you're pathetic ! Yeah ...but he's not. Real. Damn right he would not like the fics where Alina puts him on a leash. I'm still going to read them. What is he going to do about it, jump out of the page ? Jfjfjjdhfgfjfj

Anyway I think the intended message is "assholes will use noble political causes for their own gain and to manipulate people" and "being abused/oppressed is not an excuse to behave badly." Which. Sure. But that's kind of like...a tired take, honestly ? A big number of villains nowadays are like this ; either they've been bullied as kids, or they're part of an oppressed group, or they have "good ideals but too extreme". This is not surprising because a lot of mainstream heroic narratives present clinging to the status quo as Good and change as chaotic and dangerous. And like sure in real life people often do bad shit because they're wounded and in danger. But if you want to do a story like that, you have to do it with nuance, talk about cycles of violence, about how society creates vulnerable people to be exploited, about how privilege gives you more choices and the luxury of morals, etc. The Grishaverse does not have this level of nuance (maybe in SoC a little bit but definitely not in TGT). So it kind of comes off as "trauma makes you evil" and "egalitarianism is dangerous" and "if you're abused/oppressed you're not allowed to fight back". And ignores the fact that historically, evil generally comes from unchecked privilege.

I guess my point is that there are many things I like about LB's writing, she knows how to create these really exciting character dynamics, and the world she has created is fascinating. But these stories are not a great starting point for imparting moral lessons. And her best characters tend to be, at least in canon, the morally grey ones. I hope one day she'll be at peace with the fact that she wrote the Darkling the way she did and leave his fans alone but in the meantime I'm just not going to take this whole thing seriously I'm sorry