#more clarity on the story and rewriting its end

[lorelune]

diluc fic has nearly killed my drive to write so baby is on the back burner for now :'''^)

[beta-adjacent]

@fairytalesociology

Thank you so so so much for your patience with me; I've been getting my footing back after starting school again :') I honestly don't remember what you'd asked me about anymore, but I know it was Zombies related so I'm just going to ramble about the franchise until I run out of steam, haha

The first Zombies movie has bothered me since it I first watched it, especially because of its ending. It looked like there was another cheerleading school competing against the Mighty Shrimp!! But that other team doesn't say Anything about Seabrooke, which irked me because.. why didn't they? If they knew about a zombie outbreak in this one town, and they saw cheerleaders who looked exactly like a zombie..... why did no one say anything about the zombies? The lack of their input implies, to me, that either this other school is a farce and Seabrooke is some Orwellian nightmare, OR that everyone is fully aware of Seabrooke and they do not care about the zombies for whatever reason (e.g. zombie outbreaks are common, the politics behind zombies has long-since been discussed, Seabrooke is a really conservative town). I wish we got Zombies 4 so we could see the world outside of Seabrooke!!! And it's a crucial part of my rewrite, especially since it'd make Addison realize how everyone thinks she's human, regardless of her hair color and rhinestones.

Speaking of Addison, I love her potential. Addison is best when she is played as an accidental villain, or at least constantly at moral odds with herself. Addison's flaws primarily stem from her privilege and white guilt, originally perpetuated by her environment being too close-minded, but continues to be perpetuated by her choosing ignorance and neglect of her privilege (which unfortunately in the canon leads to little or no consequence). Even now, in the main series, she's got good foundations for showing how activism can go downhill, or be/become superficial; there's a powerful story there that I want to tap into.

So, in my rewrite, I want Addison's journey of becoming a proper activist to be really clear. In Zombies 1 & 2, I need the characters to full-on call her out on her malarkey. I'd love it even more if marginalized groups like the zombies can't say anything right away, and that builds and builds, and suddenly Zed and Addy get into a huge argument. I even like it if Brianna -- yes, Brianna, the "black best friend" stereotype in the movie about battling racial stereotypes -- had this fight with Addison!!!

I want Addison to have a big fight with Zed, hear the things she doesn't want to hear, and be a coward for a second. I need her to run back to her human friends and family to get some space, only for her to realize that she has the privilege to run away at all Maybe she cries to her parents and her dad threatens to tell the authorities about Zed, despite him doing nothing wrong, and Addison gets this clarity. . She could've done anything to Zed, to his reputation or career or life, in that moment due to her anger; he was lucky that all she did was go to her family. And realizing the power she has over her boyfriend because of her social statuses is what makes her return to Zed with humility. I mean, maybe this borders on too unrealistic, haha; the point is simply that Addison needs to see how she is still like her human friends/family in many regards.

By the end of the series, I want Addison to understand that, regardless of her heritage, her role in Seabrooke is as a human ambassador. Her arc should feel like she learned how her privileges and guilt impact those around her, and how to help a new race of monster without immediately trying to become one of them.

But, of course, that all doesn't even begin to touch on the other major gripe people have with Addison-- her suspicions that she's different were actually correct, and worse, she's rewarded for it. In my rewrite, I want Addison to get confirmation that she's part alien way earlier, ideally at the end of Zombies 2. I think for the best long-term arc, her learning she's generally not human should start at the end of Zombies 1.

Ideally, the reveal she's not human is a private confession from the mom at the end of Zombies 1, which makes Addison's conflict in Zombies 2 a choice-- she can either reveal herself as monster, or she can keep it to herself. Again, that's a huge privilege for her, one that the zombies and werewolves can't afford (as Zed himself demonstrates in Zombies 1). Based on Addison's choice, the world becomes our oyster! Addison can try sneaking away by herself to find answers in Zombies 2 such that she finds the werewolves (instead of it being a matter of fate/luck); she can try leaving Seabrooke altogether; she can come clean and watch her human peers not care (or maybe they do ostracize her like she feared; that's a plotpoint that's not really explored in the original canon). In my perfect world, Addison ends up doing some research, and ultimately causes the aliens to arrive. Maybe the group decides to help her at the start of Zombies 3, or they try to but can't because they're all going away and graduating while Addison feels stuck. Maybe Addison talks to her to-be-deceased grandma, or a similarly-knowledgeable loved one, and inspired by those stories, she chooses to summon the aliens despite not knowing the worldly consequences. Regardless, when Addison gets to engage in her alien culture, I think she needs to be an outsider who learns (hopefully already knowing how to respect another culture thanks to Zombies 2).

Again, Addison is root of a majority of the conflicts in this rewrite because I like her that way, haha. The original canon makes her so paradoxically selfish despite her empathy with sense of justice. It just makes sense to explore a world where Addison's selfishness keeps getting the best of her. I want redemption for Addison; I just make that a very difficult process, haha.

Here are some other comparatively small thoughts about the franchise:

The end of Zombies 3 where Bucky takes over the ship absolutely rocks me because for someone who cared so much about hating on the zombies & co... how did he handle learning he's an alien?? Similar to Addison, Bucky in the canon gets all the benefits without the repercussions. So when Addison learns about the alien thing, I want Bucky to be there too. Actually, wait here we go!!!! Bucky summons the aliens, not Addison; he becomes the villain for Zombies 3. This then allows Addison to teach Bucky everything she's learned over the last two movies about how to be a good person.

Also, Eliza should've been president in Zombies 2; her entire arc was building up to that and her subtle ways of demonstrating how she is a leader and struggling with how to be a passionate revolutionary without turning to violence. Zombies 3 should've then been about her struggling to make change within the bureaucracy of the school instead of being away at college.

[bettsfic]

Just read the excerpt of your story and oh my it is so interesting. I didn’t want to get to the end of the chapter ;(.

With the structure and with the clarity of Layla’s voice, I was wondering how you came about writing this project and what that was like?

thanks, anon! i'm hoping to share more of it now that the rewrites have gained some momentum.

basically in january 2023 i had a silly story idea about two coworkers who antagonized each other but were anonymously corresponding on a (bdsm) dating app. the guy finds out his coworker is the femdom of his dreams. they fall in love. end of story.

i wrote a scene where the love interest discovers the POV character is covered in tattoos. i wrote a scene where he gets a new tattoo, and he doesn't care what it is, he just wants to be marked by someone. and then i wrote a scene where the love interest offers to pick out what he eats for lunch and he loses his mind, because someone making decisions for him is his thing. then i decided to make him an underwriter, because i thought the character concept of "an underwriter, whose job is to make economy-altering decisions on a daily basis, detests making decisions" was interesting. so i was goofing around across 10k or so when the POV character (Henry) really caught my interest, and i kept asking myself, "what's this guy's deal" over and over again.

fast forward a couple weeks, i'd mostly given up on the project because it just seemed too ridiculous to exist and i couldn't think up any sustaining conflict. i was meeting up with my former thesis advisor for lunch, and on the hour-long drive i kept thinking about my indecisive underwriter covered in tattoos. she and i had a great conversation about craft in general, and i left thinking, so what if it's too ridiculous to exist? i'll write it anyway. it's not like i have anything better to do.

i cut out the stupid dating app thing. i got bored with the love interest (Layla) being perfect and decided it would be interesting to make her a character who thinks she's a sociopath but is not at all a sociopath. and i've also just always had a thing for loose cannon characters who are willing to commit atrocities in the name of their skewed sense of justice.

the first draft was 120k with a trash document of over 100k. i finished it in june. there was a cult involved, and trauma and the recovery thereof, and really a lot of sex. the hardest part about writing it was my own apprehension that i was maybe finally writing a novel that would be strong enough to exist in the world. when i shot it off to my agent, i felt great about it. as i waited for her feedback and started getting some distance from it, i started to feel less great about it. then i started to feel ashamed of it. then it made me sick to think about.

i tried to stay positive. i got great feedback just in time for last year's artist residency, and on the 10 hour drive to new york, i came up with a revision plan. as soon as i arrived at the residency i started working on it, and i worked on it so much that i burned out after the first week. and then i started spiraling, because it became clear to me that conceptually there was something wrong with the story, and even if everyone who touched it totally loved it, i still wouldn't want it to see the light of day. i truly can't begin to explain how i could love something i wrote so much and still be mortified by its existence. and yet for months thereafter, i wasn't ready to concede any of the foundational elements of the story. all of it still seemed so important and meaningful to me. but also i knew it wasn't very good, and i didn't know how to make it better.

fast forward to last month, i finally had a big breakthrough about it and enough distance that i still admired it but was willing to gut it and basically start over. i was prepared (and planning to) get rid of all the things i loved in the name of making it a better story that wouldn't make me feel ashamed of myself, and in the process found that all of those things i loved have actually become clearer simply in my willingness to let go of them.

i'll have about 300k words worth of scenes and concepts i cut, but i'll have around 90k of what might be a good story that will go out on submission at the end of this year or early next. and although there's no guarantee it'll get picked up, a few editors will probably have some nice things to say about it.

[coramatus]

Under the City Streets (part 12)

THE END

Supersedes this draft ending

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [7.1-7.4] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13+]

After being forced to leave a scared, uncooperative Woodsman behind, Emmet just gives up, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep in pure anguish. The light in his eyes has completely disappeared, leaving behind a dull bleak stare. The pain from his burn is now excruciating, radiating up through his entire arm, tearing into his shoulder, and crawling into his chest, only getting worse the more terrible he feels.

He comes upon an old abandoned train station. Ominously its ‘TOWNSEND STATION’ sign is partially smashed, leaving only the words ‘END STATION’. Exhausted, his legs give out and he collapses into a ball. For the first time since arriving in the Unknown, Emmet lets himself sob uncontrollably as despair and agony finally overwhelm him. Edelwood starts to climb over his form.

Someone watches him and quietly walks away.

In the meantime, Volo has been trying to find Emmet since they split to apologize. He’s been thinking about everything, his every mistake, his every misstep, his every false assumption. Everything he thought was important feels so… hollow now. No saving long dead civilizations, no rewriting the universe to rid it of pain, no usurping god; none of that matters when the one person who made him feel genuinely loved is rightfully angry at him for his mistake. A mistake he actually has the power to fix if he does this properly. He just needs to apologize to Emmet first, to let him know he will make this right.

As he perches on a branch to catch his breath, Volo spots a familiar shadow watching him. He realizes it’s the Hunter and irately goes to confront them. But the Hunter simply walks off and Volo follows, demanding to know what they’re playing at. The Hunter says nothing and just keeps walking. Volo gets annoyed and starts to yell when the Hunter points at something.

The sight he finds makes him snap his beak shut.

It’s Emmet, covered in Edelwood vines.

Volo instantly understands what’s happened and starts trying to free Emmet, berating him about this being exactly why he wanted him to leave the Unknown. Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to him about that?!

But Emmet’s not fully aware and weakly pleads to Volo in a broken voice, “he won’t listen to me… why won’t he listen? why does he hate me?”

Now Volo is going to lose the only person he considers a friend. But he is just a Starly with Tackle as his only attack. The Hunter has unhelpfully disappeared on him as per usual. So Volo goes to find help.

Luckily, he spots the light of the Woodsman’s lantern moving along in the forest. He finds the man trudging along, dragging his axe behind him and looking utterly defeated and lost. Knowing his complete story now, Volo dives in at him.

For the Woodsman, his world is shattered. He doesn’t know why he bothers carrying the lantern still. He’s not even sure what it is anymore.

The sight of Emmet’s bleeding face haunts him.

How could he?

And then there’s an angry Starly in his face, yelling invectives at him.

The Woodsman does not take Volo’s verbal abuse well. But when the subject of his brother is brought up, the Woodsman loses all the fight in him, still rattled by his last encounter with Emmet, having only been a few hours ago. He’s full of guilt after hurting him and doesn’t think he deserves to be near Emmet.

Volo is instantly fed up and steals the Woodsman’s hat, demanding he follow him if he wants it back. The Woodsman knows what Volo is trying to do and reluctantly lets himself be led away, hoping beyond hope that this is just some fucked up joke.

It’s not a joke.

The sight of Emmet’s crumpled form, covered in Edelwood vines, leaves the Woodsman cold with horror and clarity.

Any doubt vanishes.

Emmet is his brother and always has been.

He’s been a fool…

The Woodsman tries to wake Emmet up as he and Volo break away Edelwood branches. He cajoles him with reassurances that he’s there for him, that he’s sorry, that he wants him to get up.

But Emmet’s despair is too much. And here, Emmet finally reveals the pent up anger, resentment, and grief towards his brother that he’s kept to himself for years. With his mind addled with despair, words he would normally bite his tongue to keep inside all come spilling out, resulting in a barely coherent conversation.

Woodsman: “E-Emmet! H-Hey! It’s me! Come on! Get up!”

Emmet: “leave me alone…”

Woodsman: “Wh-what?”

Emmet: “what do you care? you don’t even believe me. i’m no one to you.”

Woodsman: “No! No, I was wrong! Horribly wrong! You are Emmet! You are my brother! My little twin brother! You always have been! I was so blind…”

Emmet: “nngh! stop…! stop lying—!”

Woodsman: “Emmet, I don’t—?”

Emmet: “you’re a liar. you said you’d come back home. that was four years ago. what did i do? why did you lie to me…”

Woodsman: “…I-I’m sorry.”

Emmet: “no, you’re not. you abandoned me. you rejected me… all you do is hurt me. over and over…”

Woodsman: “E-Emmet…”

Emmet: “i don’t know why you hate me. i just wanted to bring you home. that’s all i wanted. i tried so hard. i am so tired… please… just let it be over…”

Woodsman: “Emmet! No! NO!!!”

The Edelwood creeps over more of Emmet as his crying falls silent.

Volo realizes that Emmet’s depression is spiraling far too quickly for them now. The Woodman asks what he means, what’s wrong with Emmet, why are Edelwood vines growing on him?? Volo explains that the Unknown is claiming Emmet because he’s giving into his despair. The Woodsman is bewildered, demanding to know what the hell that means. Volo is surprised at him. He’s the Woodsman! Doesn’t he know?? Those who succumb to despair in the Unknown become Edelwood trees.

This is how the Woodsman learns the true origins of the Edelwood: it’s made of souls. Humans and Pokémon who gave into their despair and died while in Unknown, consumed by the forest, remade into oily trees with agonized faces. The Woodsman has a massive breakdown. This whole time, he’s been harvesting lost souls for the lantern. The Beast kept this from him, and lied to him about the nature of the trees. He had his suspicions but the truth is devastating.

He truly is as monstrous as everyone says he is.

He barely snaps out of it when Volo yells at him to help him with Emmet, the vines are growing far too fast for his tiny bird body to remove. Indeed, Emmet is getting swallowed up by thickening vines.

The sight breaks something in the Woodsman.

Ingo decides he’s ending this now.

Enraged, Ingo wraps his arms around Emmet and with a roar of fury (“I WON’T LET YOU HAVE HIM!!”) he tears his brother right out of the Edelwood, twigs and vines falling away from Emmet’s freed body, staining them both in black oil.

Volo is awed by Ingo’s strength but gets hold of himself and guides him to the wooden floor of the abandoned station to keep the vines at bay, advising him to keep Emmet warm. Ingo does so, hurriedly taking off his thick Pearl Clan tunic and putting it on his brother. Ingo cradles Emmet’s limp form, fruitlessly begging him to wake up before breaking down, sobbing apologies into his brother’s shoulder. Volo quietly listens and watches him for any signs of waking up.

Emmet remains limp and lifeless.

“Ingo?” a rough feminine voice calls out softly.

Volo is surprised to find Lady Sneasler leaping down before them, she too having been guided there by the Hunter. Her gaze is wary but drops it when she sees Emmet’s condition. Ingo bundles his brother up in his arms and begs her to help Emmet. He knows he wronged her, but he’s only asking this of her for Emmet’s sake. Sneasler solemnly agrees, gently lifting Emmet out of his brother’s hold. Before she leaves, she asks what Ingo is going to do now.

Ingo hefts his axe and puts his hat back on. He simply says he has unfinished business and heads out to confront the Beast. Sneasler warns him that he can’t take on the Beast alone. Not even she could do it. But Ingo says he needs to make up for what he’s done, for the people he’s hurt, for what the Beast made him do. For Emmet. She reluctantly allows him his mission and promises she’ll come back for him with friends. Ingo gives her a sad smile and simply thanks her for everything she’s done for him before walking away.

Volo hesitates but chooses to accompany Emmet. With a quiet word, he leads Lady Sneasler to someone close by that he knows who can help.

Deep in unconsciousness, Emmet remembers the truth of how he came to be in the Unknown. He’d been walking the tunnels when the earth suddenly began to shake. But instead of a steam train barreling at him, he realized it was an earthquake when cracks started forming in the concrete around him. He started to run, but it was too late. A mass of concrete collapsed over him, burying him in rubble, crushing him under its weight, explaining his visions of a broken tunnel whenever his breathing became labored. As he struggled to stay conscious, his last thought was that he didn’t want to die without seeing his brother one last time.

Emmet slowly awakens from his miasma of misery to find two kids tending to him. Akari and Rei, the Professor’s missing assistants. He’s still deeply depressed and his burn is as painful as ever, but he pulls enough of himself together to at least be polite and interact with his caretakers. As far as Akari and Rei know, Lady Sneasler and a little Starly brought them his unconscious body. Their host had healing supplies to spare and the kids agreed to assist. Then the two Pokémon left, Volo to collect more healing berries and Sneasler to gather reinforcements.

Emmet is despondent and just wants to go back to sleep, not caring that he’s down to just his singlet and tattered pants. But Akari jams a spoonful of berry mash into his mouth and demands that he “eat his mush”. He’s annoyed but does as he is told and slowly eats the combined healing berries.

They talk, Akari and Rei questioning Emmet about his appearance. They reveal they’ve met Ingo before, but he was actually quite nice to them. Well, except for that time they messed with his lantern, but that was their fault. They’re the only humans Emmet’s met who have anything remotely nice to say about his brother, telling him of how he tried his best to help them even though they kept accidentally making his life harder. It’s enough to bring a small smile back to Emmet’s face.

Then an unfamiliar, white-haired woman in a long, lacy black dress approaches him. She elegantly checks him over and says they’ve done everything they can. The rest is up to him.

She introduces herself as Cogita, idly commenting with a raised brow about how her quiet life has suddenly taken such an… interesting turn. Akari and Rei look embarassed but say nothing as they help restock her medical supplies, trying to be discreet about listening in.

It’s not long before Volo makes it back. He immediately fusses over Emmet, who quietly tolerates it before they fall into an uncomfortable silence.

That’s when Cogita asks for a moment with Volo. He looks nervous but agrees. Away from the others, the two talk, Cogita wondering why she hasn’t seen him in years. He used to constantly pester her for myths right up until Hisui was transported to the Unknown. She believed that he was stranded in Jubilife, not here as a Pokémon. Volo admits that he’s been avoiding her. He didn’t want her to see him like this: small, weak, pathetic, humiliated. He was too ashamed.

Cogita gently picks Volo up and gives him a hug. She’s just happy that he’s still alive. She was starting to miss him.

Volo fluffs up in embarrassment but nuzzles her back.

She then asks Volo about Emmet’s relationship to him. Cogita hasn’t seen Volo care so much about another human before. Volo gets a bit shy and says that Emmet’s his friend. His first real friend. Cogita doesn’t push any further but it’s clear she suspects there’s something more going on between the two, at least on Volo’s end. So she gently urges Volo to just talk to Emmet. She knows they have much to discuss.

With some reluctance, Volo lets himself be shooed away to rejoin Emmet.

When he returns to Emmet’s side, Volo immediately apologizes. For the pain he put Emmet through. For everything. This whole mess is his fault. But he’s taking responsibility. He’ll fix this, not to break his curse, but because it’s what needs to be done.

However, Emmet softly asks why Volo even bothered helping him. Volo is quiet for a moment before he tells Emmet that he didn’t want him to die. For what it's worth, he considers Emmet his friend. He cares about him. And he’ll understand if Emmet hates him forever; it’s what he deserves in the end.

To Volo’s shock, Emmet forgives him and hugs Volo as some of the shadows fade from his haggard form. Volo returns the hug, a weight lifting from his back.

Emmet then asks how Volo got him out. A bit of life returns to his eyes when Volo informs him that Ingo is the one who saved him. A teary smile starts to form as he is told about how Ingo freaked out and literally ripped him out of the Edelwood and proceeded to cry over him a whole bunch. But then Ingo left to confront the Beast.

Emmet’s smile drops.

And then he snaps.

He did what?!

Emmet’s eyes go from dark and dull to practically incandescent with rage.

He almost had Ingo back! He was this close! And now his idiot brother is doing some self-sacrificial bullshit to make up for his mistakes?! No. Fuck no! He’s not letting that happen, not when they could have just left together!! He can’t let Ingo just leave again after everything!

Though he’s still weak and wobbly from his close call, he powers through his hopelessness and marches off to drag Ingo out of whatever stupid horseshit he’s gotten himself into.

Rei tries to stop him.

“You’re no good to your brother if you’re dead!”

“I won’t be any good to him if I stay here either,” Emmet snaps.

Emmet thanks Akari, Rei, and Cogita for their help and limps away into the night to find Ingo.

Volo starts to follow, but stops and flies back to Cogita to give her a hug. He thanks her for everything, which makes her ask why he’s doing this. He just says that he doesn’t think he’s coming back after this. He’s thinking of leaving Hisui for good; he’s done it more than enough harm. Cogita hugs him back and wishes him luck.

Volo gives her one last sad look before dutifully accompanying Emmet.

As Ingo marches towards his confrontation, he realizes that the lantern needs to be kept away from the Beast. So he hides the lantern in a tree hollow, marking its location and covering its light with his hat.

And then Ingo confronts the Beast. It seems amused to find him so quiet. When it refers to him as the Woodsman, Ingo is quick to snap at it to not call him that. He’s done doing its dirty work. He asks if it was ever going to tell him the truth about the Edelwood and if his brother’s soul was ever in the lantern to begin with.

The Beast just laughs at him for finally cottoning onto the truth. And it is not even the least bit sorry for it. It taunts Ingo, reminding him he’s been at this for years. He may as well be guilty too.

“Listen to you! Such idealism when you willfully blinded yourself to it all!” it crows, rising above Ingo.

In fury, Ingo attacks the Beast with his axe. Three years of constant woodcutting has made him far stronger and adept with his weapon. He scores several good hits, chopping off some of the Beast’s branches and leaving multiple deep wounds in its body. At one point, he even slams the axe right into its face, stomping it in further for good measure.

But the Beast is wily. It manages to distract Ingo just long enough to slam its tail down on him, stunning him. Before he can collect himself, the Beast crushes Ingo into submission. Ingo still has it in him to furiously struggle until the Beast leans in close to his ear to really twist the knife. It tells Ingo that this is all his own damn fault, that he’s a terrible brother, that his real brother, the one that he deliberately hurt, will now die because of his foolishness. His brother will die rightfully hating him. What kind of monster is he?

Crushing guilt stabs Ingo’s heart. Dazed and weakened from his injuries, he whimpers as his rage is swallowed by the chasm of despair it had always been hiding. He starts sobbing and that’s enough to make the Edelwood vines start creeping over him. The Beast watches on in satisfaction. It’s only a matter of time before this sapling grows into a full tree…

In the meantime, Emmet and Volo are on Ingo’s trail. They find the hidden lantern in the tree hollow because of Ingo’s hat. Neither of them considers this a promising sign. They take both items and carry on.

It doesn’t take long for Emmet and Volo to stumble into the battle-ruined clearing. It’s only when Emmet raises the lantern that they find Ingo half-embedded in a forming Edelwood tree, his body stuck in a sick parody of his signature point and call pose. He looks dead. When the two start breaking the branches off him, Ingo wakes up enough to reveal deadened, dull eyes. He weakly smiles at Emmet and tells him to just leave him. He’s not worth it. He’s failed him as a brother.

But Emmet won’t have it. He tearfully tells Ingo to shut the fuck up, that he’s not abandoning him, not when he can still bring him home. They’re going home together dammit! Not when they’re this close! No amount of depression is going to change that! Ingo lets out a weak laugh at this and says it was good to see Emmet one last time. Then he closes his eyes and his body falls limp.

Emmet is furiously sobbing at this point, begging Ingo to wake up. Volo tells him they can’t stop, they need to free him first.

Then the Beast makes its reappearance. It demands the lantern and much like Ingo before him, Emmet refuses to hand it over.

So the Beast suggests making a deal. Ingo is dying. But the Beast can put his soul into the lantern to keep him alive. All Emmet has to do is keep the flame lit to maintain his brother’s soul. It even tosses Ingo’s axe as his feet.

Emmet takes the axe, considering it.

Volo hisses at Emmet that this is bad, he knows a bad deal when he sees one! He was a merchant for Arceus’s sake!

But Emmet has to stop and think about it. What if he can’t bring Ingo home in time? What if they can’t get home? What if they’re trapped here to wander for eternity?

What if? What if? What if?

And then Emmet does something the Beast doesn’t expect.

Emmet asks why.

The Beast is taken aback at this.

It insists it’s trying to help Emmet but he’s not having it.

“What does it matter whose soul is in it?? I will not cage him like some fancy Pidove! If you care so much, why don’t you put your own goddamned soul in here and…”

Emmet stops, making the connection.

“…this is your soul. Isn’t it.”

The lantern holds no one’s soul but the Beast’s.

The Beast’s form goes wild and turns into an eldritch shadow. It tries to terrorize Emmet into doing what it wants, sucking out all the light and looming over him, a great monster with horrid glowing eyes pinning him in a spotlight stare as it asks,

“ArE yOU ReaDy tO SEe trUE daRkNEss?”

But Emmet’s glare just narrows,

“Are you?”

Instead of supplicating, Emmet grabs the lantern by its back handle and raises it high into the air as if he’s about to smash it on the ground.

The Beast immediately begs him not to, shrinking back to its original size.

Emmet just scoffs at it and tosses the lantern aside like so much trash. He walks back to Ingo and starts ripping off Edelwood, cutting them off with the axe when necessary.

The Beast tries to grab its lantern when a razor leaf from Lady Lilligant cuts it off. All around the clearing, the forms of the Nobles, Wardens, and the clans emerge from the shadows.

They’ve been watching.

They’ve heard everything.

They’re done with the Beast.

The Nobles surround the Beast, cutting it off from the lantern.

Paws, claws, and hands reach in and help Emmet dig Ingo out. The people who once believed Ingo wronged them understand what happened. This is their forgiveness and their apology.

Adaman frees a leg. Irida tears off a piece of the trunk. The Wardens help carefully pick Ingo free. Even Melli carves away encroaching vines with a knife.

With a final crack, the Edelwood releases Ingo and he tumbles into Emmet’s arms, his tattered coat left caught in the tree.

Emmet takes a moment to briefly hug his brother’s limp body, tears of exhausted relief gathering in his eyes as he whispers, “I’ve got you, Ingo… I’ve got you…”

Looking up at the Hisuians, he nods at them with a thankful smile.

“I’m taking my brother and going home,” Emmet then announces to the clearing. He tosses the axe aside and hauls the unconscious Ingo up on his shoulders, carrying him off without another word, Volo flying close behind. He walks past the silent clans and Nobles, who step aside and make a path for them.

The Beast makes one last move for the lantern but it’s snatched away by Lady Sneasler. Sneering, she holds it up for it to see one last time before she brings her other claw smashing through it with a Dire Claw.

The Beast shrieks and is no more.

“Goodbye, Emmet.”

“Goodbye, Volo.”

Back in the real world, a disaster has befallen the Nimbasa Subway system. An earthquake struck central Unova that was bad enough to destroy parts of the tunnel infrastructure.

Emergency crews are combing the tunnels and come across the ruined section. A search and rescue Pokémon starts digging at the rubble when a hand reaches out. Dragging himself out is a bloodied Emmet, carrying an unconscious Ingo on his back. He wheezes for help before collapsing.

In the ambulance, Emmet reaches over and clasps Ingo’s hand. He feels a reassuring squeeze in return and he drifts off.

Emmet wakes up in the hospital to find Eelektross, Chandelure, and an unfamiliar yet oddly familiar Gliscor watching him expectantly. Then he remembers everything and sits up, shouting for Ingo.

A weak groan has Emmet looking over and finding his brother in the bed next to him. Ingo has a small smile on his face and welcomes him back. Emmet starts to cry and tries to get up, but has to stop when his ribs protest.

Ingo just chuckles and tells Emmet that they both have broken ribs and they have to take it easy. They reach out and hold hands again.

Emmet wonders if everything in the Unknown really happened. Ingo just smiles and says that everyone is still trying to figure out how he’d reappeared from thin air on Emmet’s back. So that ought to answer that question.

Emmet however is more amazed by the fact that Ingo is smiling! Like genuinely smiling!! Holy shit!!

Back in the Unknown, the Hunter picks up the Woodsman’s axe and returns it to its rightful place on their back.

Volo then flies down to rest on the Hunter’s shoulder. Volo asks if they’re ready, admitting that he’s apprehensive but they’ll figure this out. The Hunter simply nods, smiling faintly despite their own worries. They reach the Old Man of the Mountain’s cabin, who warmly welcomes them in.

A golden hoof taps against a point in space-time and the distortion that jammed Hisui into the Unknown undoes itself. All over Hisui, the barrier cutting it off lifts, revealing a full landscape once more.

In the Obsidian Fieldlands, all of the Galaxy team is in the middle of frantically studying another abnormally long-lasting space-time distortion when it finally begins clearing up on its own. It reveals a confused Laventon, Akari, Rei, and Cogita, a bit thrown off by the presence of so many people gaping at them. Then Laventon starts crying and tackle-hugs a startled Cyllene, overjoyed to see her. She sighs and pats him on the back. Akari and Rei give Cogita supportive smiles as they excitedly introduce her to the Galaxy Team. She looks ready for a new chapter in her life.

A festival is held between the Diamond and Pearl clans, celebrating the breaking of the curse, the end of the Beast’s reign, and the end of the space-time distortion that transported them all away. A very human Adaman and Irida share a toast to having thumbs again, while their once again Pokémon-shaped Leafeon and Glaceon do the same with some berries.

Elsewhere, a human Volo makes his way down an unfamiliar path, humbled and ready to try again. He wears a few shed Starly feathers in his hair. He perks up at seeing a sign for Nimbasa City. Realizing where he is, he bursts out laughing and runs to the city. He has a friend to find.

(Before his curse was broken, Volo was asked where he’d like to be put back. Volo just sadly thinks of Emmet and how he’ll never see him again, of how badly he screwed up Hisui, and decides he doesn’t care where or when he’s left. Just… put him somewhere he can be useful. It’s the best he can hope for. Arceus agrees. And sends Volo to the future. In Unova.)

Lady Sneasler pulls on Ingo’s battered coat with a sweeping flourish, finishing it off by twirling Emmet’s hat into the air and catching it perfectly on her head. Looking into a discarded mirror she nicked from the City, she nods in satisfaction at the placement of her two most cherished objects.

Hefting her basket full of curiously watching Sneasel kits onto her shoulders, she replicates a familiar point-and-call pose and shouts for all to hear,

“ALL ABOARD!”

THE END

Part 13+ - to be added later

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

Tana French

Born in America but raised all over the world, the author Tana French has a wonderful ear for the rhythms of dialog generally, and the snark & lilt of Irish patter in particular. Trained as an actor, she went to college in Ireland and now makes her home in Dublin. Though known as “The First Lady of Irish Crime” her stories are only about crime on the surface. At their core they are explorations of different types of human relationships.

Author Tana French.

The first of her stories that I read was THE WITCH ELM, a standalone novel, unrelated to her other book series. At the time, I was on a Stephen King binge and read that he recommended this story in a review in the New York Times. This crime novel is not written from the viewpoint of a detective, but a victim. Beaten to a pulp by burglars in his own home, he awakes in hospital with a badly battered body and an equally bruised memory. 

Detectives appear in this story as alpha predators. Grinning wolves snapping at someone wounded by a traumatic crime. Eventually, it becomes two crimes, with the discovery of a body hidden within a tree in the garden of the family home where he recuperates. Partly inspired by the true story of a body discovered hidden in a tree, this novel also questions the role of of detectives themselves:

“I definitely think that it’s a good movement within the mystery genre, to acknowledge that the detective’s point of view is not the only one, and is not necessarily the crucial one, and is not necessarily the heroic one.“ -Tana French

The next Tana French books that I read were the DUBLIN MURDER SQUAD series, which are the novels that she is most famous for. Typically, these kinds of stories follow one detective, but instead this series follows an entire department. Thus, someone who is a secondary character in one novel will be the protagonist in another. With the exception of the first two novels (which are interconnected) they can be read in any order. 

The first book in this series was IN THE WOODS, Tana French’s award-winning debut novel from 2007. Told from the point of view of detective Rob Ryan, who becomes obsessed with a case that is related to a crime he survived as a child. This book is notable for its portrayal of the friendship between Rob and his detective partner Cassie. They are both damaged souls and kindred spirits, who understand each other like no-one else can. Will their relationship stay platonic (like Steed & Peel?) Or will they screw it up by, well, screwing (like Mulder & Scully?) You’ll have to read the book to find out.. 

“I come from an acting background. So for me, the natural thing is to see characters as three-dimensional as possible and to try to bring the reader to the point where they’re seeing this world through the characters’ fears and needs and biases and objectives. So that’s where I start from.”  -Tana French

THE LIKENESS was the second book, told by Rob’s partner, Cassie Maddox, and likewise involves a case of hidden identity and subterfuge. Julia & I just finished watching a TV adaptation of these first two books in this series (which combines the plots of the first two books in a way that I’m not yet sure if I liked).

"I have always been caught by the pull of the unremarkable, by the easily missed, infinitely nourishing beauty of the mundane." -Tana French

Often, there isn’t total clarity at the end of a Tana French novel. In the final scene, her detectives do not call everyone into the drawing room to melodramatically explain the mystery, step by step. The case at the centre of the story might have a few unanswered questions. Or, if there is a conclusion to the core mystery, there will be spiky, unresolved emotional issues around it.

The puzzles in her stories are more about the characters themselves than the crimes.. the effects of trauma and obsession. The how and why of people doing what they do. Tana French doesn’t plan her books in advance but writes straight ahead, then rewrites based on the characters she discovered as she creates. Her stories can be long winded and rambling at times, but at their best, they have surprising plots, with deep character writing, and insightful observations, rendered in absolutely glittering prose.

“I’m always worried because I don’t plan in advance—what if I dive in there and there’s no book and the threads never tie up? But fingers crossed. It’s always been okay so far.“ -Tana French

Her most recent series is the CAL HOOPER stories, about a Chicago policeman retiring to a cottage in rural Ireland, then becoming embroiled in the intrigues of this little community. Originally intended as a standalone alone story, instead it became a series with a third book on the way. These are perhaps my faves of any Tana French books that I’ve read so far. 

Many of her stories have at their centre a bunch of strangers forming a family of sorts. Sometimes it feels dysfunctional, obsessive, or cultish (THE LIKENESS, THE SECRET PLACE) but here I was rooting for Cal, and his neighbours Lena & Trey, to rise above the limitations of their character flaws & respective situations, and form a new family unit.

“There is this expectation that closure or a happy ending must involve reconciliation in some way with your blood family. And I think it’s ridiculous, because that’s not how the reality works. There are situations where the only closure is via division, via literally closing that door forever.” -Tana French

The audiobooks of THE SEARCHER & THE HUNTER are read by Roger Clark, an Irish American actor who can effortlessly shift between American and Irish accents. All of Tana French's audiobooks that I’ve listened to so far have been narrated by Irish actors. It is a pleasure to hear her beautiful prose with Irish narration, that captures the musical rhythms of Irish speech.

“The Irish wit and humor and quick banter—I know this is a cliché; I know that Ireland has a reputation for this, but it is true. It’s one of the major currencies. Here the ability to go quickfire back and forth with your friends shows everything from hierarchy to affection to conflict. Everything is filtered through this lens of humour.“ -Tana French

[readingtoinfinity]

Blood at the Root

Oh yes, let me, the white guy, state his opinion on the predominantly Black book before you. Surely everyone has been waiting for this opinion.

The plot of this book follows Malik Baron, a 17-year-old Black kid from Alabama with a chip on his shoulder, a (maybe) dead mom and a little spark of magic. But during a confrontation at a gas station, he discovers his own magical ancestry, the magical University, and secrets that everyone around him is trying to keep from him.

The book was explicitly written with the intent of exploring both the southern Black experience as well as introducing young Black boys to fantasy, giving them a hero who looks like them, has the same experiences as them. In this endeavor, the slang of the book is fully phonetic, treating the authenticity of the spoken language as a higher priority than any sense of "proper" grammar. I cannot speak to its efficacy of portrayal, being neither Southern nor Black, but I do know there was language used in the book that felt familiar from portrayals from Black creators I have followed, and Savon, in particular, sounded like several people I've watched on Dropout shows, ESPECIALLY Dungeons and Drag Queens. I suspect the way this book lays out dialogue could be irritating to grammarians, the kinds that don't like an apostrophe instead of a g in "ing" verbs, and I know the specific language got on my nerves a couple of times when it came to clarity. But I think this is a perfectly fine trade-off.

The plot itself is all right. Serviceable, interesting, with several mysteries that are sprinkled throughout, but the characters really carry the book. Just about everyone you meet feels like a fully fleshed out person, a personality with their own goals and motivations. And the cast list is kept relatively sparse, which is a great strength for whenever characters jump into and out of scenes because you don't need to remember who they were; their personalities tend to pop right off the page.

The world building could have been weirder. A lot of the setting is just kind of reality+; a school, but with magic; a rich neighborhood, but with magic; terrorists, but with magic. Baron Samedi is the one aspect of this book that I found endlessly intriguing, someone who reaches into the great veil of fantasy and magic in this world, and I hope future books delve a little more into that kind of lore. I think this style of world building works for this plot but it was not my cup of tea.

The fights are also where this book feels a little weak. They utilize a style of wizard battle where the entire thing is spell and counter spell, switching from tactic to tactic to get behind your opponent's defenses. Perfectly fine and even fun if you hold focus, but if the scene moves quickly (as it does during the final fight) it's way too easy to lose sight of what's going on and who can do what. I think this is more a matter of execution rather than core ideas: a couple rewrites to get the fight scenes where they need to be.

If there's one great thing about this book, however, it would have to be the finale, even despite my complaints. Several disparate plot threads are drawn into a sudden tight, tense knot, motivations and strained relationships getting tangled in the mess of the climax. It suffers slightly from a pacing decision (it involves spoilers, but basically there was an unexpected break in the action), but when it got going, the pages absolutely flew by. And the finale placed Malik in such an interesting place that I'm intrigued where the story may go from here. Malik is granted a lot of responsibility by the end and an enemy to defeat, but at the same time he's trying to live a normal life. I think it will be interesting to see how those two desires affect him in the future, and I've changed my mind about following this series rather than just reading the first entry.

Nothing especially wowed me about this book, but it did everything competently and I have few complaints. I'm glad to see this kind of book with this kind of protagonist, and I hope Ladarrion Williams gets his wish and some little Black boys out there are inspired in the future to place themselves in the speculative genre. There's certainly enough room for us all.

[essaywritingtool]

Mastering the Art of Effective Communication: A Comprehensive Guide to Essay Rewriting Strategies

You have heard “communication is the key” everywhere in personal and professional spaces. People stress getting a clear and actionable message through to ensure the purpose of communication is fulfilled. When it comes to writing an essay, a short story, or a news piece, it becomes all the more important to communicate clearly and effectively because of the absence of non-verbal cues and elements. Rewriting or repurposing essays and papers to meet the demands of the current workload is a great way to get maximum grades. This post will show you how through exploring elements of effective communication and how an essay rewriter achieves this feat!

Elements of Effective Communication

Communication, when done in written form, is a passive act. Writers work on the piece somewhere else and then submit it to the readers for critique or evaluation. While creating the essay, the writer has to understand the demands and needs of the audience so that they can understand what he wanted to say. Based on the characteristics of written communication, experts have identified some elements that are necessary to get the point across.

Feedback

Depending on the medium, the feedback for your essay can be either active or passive. For instance, if you rewrite your essay through a rewriter, you can provide feedback immediately and prompt the tool to adjust the contents for the next attempt. All can be done in real-time through instructions and changes in keywords.

Clarity

From beginning to end, clarity is one of the most essential things that every communication example should have. Whether a writer is writing plainly or using literary devices, the message should be loud and clear. Since communication is a two-way thing, even when it is passive, as it elicits a reaction from readers, all the words and phrases should be selected and edited carefully to avoid any miscommunication.

Confidence

Effective communication has confidence as the writer knows about the stuff he is writing about. Even when you are a student who is still learning the ropes of writing and editing, you need to make your text sound confident and appealing. If you don’t know how to write a confident piece, all you have to do is search online “rewrite my essay free” and it will be done in minutes!

Context

The place of a word or the specific usage of it can change its meanings drastically. This is called context and it is the most important thing in our formal and non-formal communication. When you are writing essays and papers, the context should be on point.

How Essay Rewriters Can Enhance Communication

Let’s face it, rewriting or paraphrasing an essay is a lot of work and requires time and effort. Instead of putting in hours and still unsure of the quality of the output, let the essay rewriters https://tool.essayzoo.org/essay-rewriter do the magic. Here are some of the reasons why these tools are effective at building bridges between writers and readers through effective communication.

Artificial Intelligence At Its Finest

The power of AI allows the tools to go through the text multiple times and understand the markers accordingly. This gives it a better position to rewrite and rephrase the text in a way that the communication channel gets better.

Clarity of Text

Contrary to the work done by newbie writers and editors, the tool understands that it has to work on the clarity of the texts and ensure that it has a higher index to get the word across.

Tone & Voice Setting

This tool has the option to change the voice and tone of the already-written essay in the process. You can make it sound formal or casual and even change the tone from conversational to business with simple clicks.

Excellent Handling of Context

Again, context can stump even master human writers but this tool can work exceptionally well at handling it. You can see for yourself by using a sample piece of text. If the original piece had idioms or phrasal verbs in it along with other literary devices, the tool is exceptional at dealing with them.

Conclusion

That’s it for learning effective communication through rewriting strategies. By following the guidelines and using the best essay rewriting https://eduwriter.ai/rewrite-my-essay tools, you can master the art and stand out from your peers in class. So, what are you waiting for?

Useful Resources: https://factsforkids.net/5-essential-tools-for-every-essay-writer/ https://www.noobpreneur.com/2024/03/15/want-to-become-an-active-essay-writer-ask-yourself-this-first/ https://visualmodo.com/the-perfect-length-for-an-instagram-reel/

[idabbleincrazy]

We Make Our Own Destiny: Ageless (Prologue)

Fandom: Smallville

Rating: M (E overall)

Pairing: Clex

Characters: Clark, Lex, Martha Kent, Jonathan Kent, OFC (Luthor Manor Staff)

Word Count: 5743

Warnings: fluff, soul-bond related empathy, Jonathan is nice, Lex is slowly gaining the love and support he needs/deserves

Summary: A new development and dinner with the Kents.

A/N: this would have been ready ages ago if I hadn't gotten stuck on trying to figure out Jonathan's dialogue. Now, off to work on the actual episode...

Edit: adding the end of work a/n that I included on ao3, for extra clarity:

I don't write from an outline (the muse never sticks to it anyway), so things may change over the course of writing, but I plan to rewrite the next few seasons with Lionel and Lex mostly switching arcs, i e., Lex being the AI's vessel, and Lionel being the villain/Zod/etc. There will probably still be some Lana drama along the way, and Jonathan will still die, Martha will still take his place in politics.

The Oliver issue will take a more slashy slant, though as of yet, I don't plan on making it go further than an implied jealousy. I may try to find a way to bring Bruce into the storyline, since Smallville had wanted to but couldn't get past some embargo.

I may, at times, incorporate comic or Arrowverse versions of characters into the story, just for my own need to make some characters better than they were.

Part Three:

After a fifteen minute shower, which would have been ten minutes if Clark hadn't insisted on washing Lex himself, very thoroughly, and Lex hadn't insisted on washing Clark's hair, or twenty if Clark hadn't sped through his own cleansing, the two young lovers finally left the bathroom to change into fresh clothes. 

"I made sure to have some Kent-appropriate clothes stocked in your closet, along with some more…adventurous choices, so you don't have to put those back on. Just toss them in the laundry basket in the bathroom."

"Not afraid of your staff finding our clothes mixed together?"

"They know to be discreet, Clark. But if you're worried, there's a hamper in your room, too." 

Clark met the challenge in Lex's eyes, very pointedly grabbing up his clothes and depositing them in the bathroom. Lex visibly relaxed and a small smile graced his lips as he pulled Clark in for a quick kiss. Clark trailed his fingers lovingly over the bracelet circling his wrist and returned the smile. 

"That's settled, then. Now, go get dressed. We've still got about four hours or so until we're due back at your place for dinner, and your mom will probably kill me if I let you starve until then." Lex looked Clark over, his libido too depleted for more than a cursory thrill to run down his spine as his eyes traveled down the bare, muscled torso, stopping at the line of the towel that covered his groin. Which twitched in reaction to his staring. "Go at human speed, please. If I'm still naked by the time you return, we may never make it downstairs for lunch."

Clark flashed him a sunny grin and acquiesced, turning away and walking across the room in what Lex could only describe as a saunter. Lex bit back a moan as he watched the ripple of muscles across Clark's broad back as he walked out the door, closing it softly behind him. 

"Tease", he whispered, knowing Clark would hear him. 

With a wistful sigh he dropped his towel and walked over to his closet. The hint of a smirk played across his lips as he wondered if Clark was in his room yet. He had purposely made that room directly above his back when it was the shrine to his obsessions, and now he couldn't help but think that Clark was using its placement to his advantage, looking through the floor to watch him dress. 

With a sly glance up to the ceiling, just in case, Lex pulled out a pair of dark purple silk boxers, slipping them on slowly and knowing how the color looked against his pale skin. He felt an unexpected shiver of arousal zip up his spine and frowned. Curiosity piqued, Lex tilted his head up slightly, just enough for Clark to see his expression if he was watching. Letting his eyes fall closed, he bit his lip and uttered a soft moan, one hand trailing over his chest to toy with a nipple. 

There it was again, a zing of lust coursing through him that was wholly separate from his own. Interesting. Letting his head and hand drop, he contemplated this apparently new development in the increasingly otherworldly bond that had burgeoned between him and Clark since they'd first had sex. He continued to ruminate on the matter as he finished dressing, noting a warmth of fondness trickling in the back of his mind as his hand hovered over a pair of semi-casual gray slacks that were similar to the ones he'd worn last night, and again as he plucked a silk, lavender button-down from its hanger. 

Belt and socks were chosen with no disturbance within the force, but surprisingly, he felt a shiver of arousal quickly followed by a pang of disappointment as he slid the first sock on. Did Clark have a secret thing for his feet? Slipping his feet into a pair of sleek black Oxfords again brought nothing but silence. Finally dressed, but no wiser on what exactly was going on with this new connection, Lex exited the closet and sat at the end of the bed to wait for Clark to join him. 

Exactly five seconds later, the brunette stood in front of him, dressed in black denim jeans and a dark blue shirt, a perfect mix between Clark's own style of choice and Lex's more visually appealing tastes. 

"You are such a tease! You knew I was watching, didn't you?" Clark stepped between Lex's legs, the result of his spying evident in the slight bulge now level with Lex's face. "So much for giving up your devious behavior."

"Mm. I had a suspicion. It's not my fault if you can't keep your eyes to yourself, Clark." Lex nudged Clark back a step and spread his legs wider, his hand moving from the bedspread to slip between them and cup his own groin, his smug look becoming serious. "Close your eyes."

Clark frowned in confusion, but did as Lex asked. Lex squeezed himself lightly through the layers of cloth, letting his own eyes fall shut as his other hand skimmed across his chest to toy with his nipples. He drew up images in his mind of the way Clark had looked on his knees, up in the loft, his eyes lidded in pleasure, lips spit-slick and parted wide. 

Clark gasped and Lex's eyes snapped open. Green eyes stared down at him in bemused awe.

*What…what was that?"

Lex stood up, taking Clark's hand in his. 

"You felt it, didn't you? I needed to test a theory, I'm sorry if it startled you. When I was changing, I felt what I'm assuming was your own arousal; that's how I knew for sure you were watching. And, how I knew you'd prefer it if I wore this particular outfit." Lex shot Clark a wry look. "I also felt a sense of disappointment when I put socks on; something you feel like sharing, Clark?"

Clark's face flushed an adorable shade of pink.

"I can't help it if every part of you is sexy, even your feet", Clark stumbled over the admission, just loud enough for Lex to hear. "So, what, we can feel each other's emotions, now?"

"That seems to be the case, yes." Lex smirked and led them towards the door, Clark's hand still in his. "As for your burgeoning foot fetish, we'll have to explore that further next time."

"Not a fetish. I just…oh, shut up!"

Lex let out a laugh, one of those genuine, deep belly laughs that Clark suspected few people got to hear, and bumped his shoulder into Clark's playfully. It eased Clark's apprehension over this new development to see Lex actually happy. Looking at Lex, he knew that if he was taking it in stride, instead of worrying and over-analyzing it, then it probably was nothing they couldn't handle. 

Following a step behind Lex as they walked down to the kitchen, Clark kept a loose hold of Lex's hand, letting him make the choice of whether to make the change in their relationship so obvious. Stepping through the entryway into the expansive kitchen, Lex made his choice clear, pulling Clark to his side to wrap a possessive arm around his waist as the cook, Mrs. McCreary, turned to greet them. Her already warm smile widened as she took in the half-embrace.

"Well, it's about time, Mr. Luthor. You know, I've been expecting this moment for the past two years." 

Lex ducked his head slightly, mildly embarrassed that his feelings had been so apparent to the grandmotherly woman. 

"Yes, well, the consent laws of Kansas still don't technically apply same-sex relationships."

"Still illegal to serve ice cream on cherry pie, too, but that doesn't mean we ever stopped." Mrs. McCreary stepped up to them and pulled them both into a warm hug. "That Adams woman won't hear a word of complaint from any of the staff, boys, I'll make sure of that. I've been in your employ since the day you got exiled to this quaint little town, sir, and I know how much of a hand young Mr. Kent here has had in the changes you've made, not only to Smallville, but yourself, as well. You've matured into a fine young man, Mr. Luthor, and that's less a result of the lessons your father taught you than the love you've found."

"Gee, Mrs. McCreary," Clark felt his cheeks flush at her words of approval and the changes in Lex that the woman seemed to attribute to his close relationship with him, "I don't know that I deserve much credit for any of that. Lex always had the good in him, despite Mr. Luthor's influence; surely most of that change was his own doing?"

"That might be, Mr. Kent, but you definitely gave him a nudge back in the right direction." Mrs. McCreary looked fondly at Lex, and let the pair go, heading back over to the kitchen island. "Alright, I'm sure Mr. Luthor's had enough of my fawning for one afternoon. I take it you boys have come in search of lunch?"

"Yes, Mrs. McCreary. And then, you can take the rest of the day off, Mrs. Kent's invited me over for dinner."

"Do the Kents know, Mr. Luthor? I wouldn't want to speak out of turn if I bump into either of them in town."

"Mrs. Kent does. We're waiting to ease Mr. Kent into the change in our relationship as of yet. And, how many times do I have to remind you, it's okay to call me Lex?"

"As many times as I have to tell you to call me Lorelei. That goes for you, too, dear." Mrs. McCreary winked over at Clark as she set up two plates of french dip. "I wouldn't worry so much about Jonathan Kent. He's a good, understanding man, even if he's a little gruff around the edges. Now, will you boys be needing anything else?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. McCreary, Clark and I will manage fine from here."

Mrs. McCreary quickly cleaned away the crumbs from the granite island counter and set the towel aside as Clark took his seat in front of one of the plates. She watched as he took a bite of the sandwich, patting his cheek when he flashed her a pleased smile, just managing to keep his mouth closed around the large bite. 

Lex chuckled when she left, walking over to the refrigerator to grab a can of soda for Clark and a bottle of Ty Nant for himself. 

"What's so funny?"

Lex sat down beside Clark, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a swig. 

"Everything, Clark, everything. And nothing."

"Um, okay…"

"Sorry, Clark. It's just been a very surreal day." Lex dug into his own plate, relishing the tang of au jus. "You know, between Mrs. McCreary and your mother, I'm probably going to gain a pants size before the month is out."

"Well, someone has to make sure you ingest more than just caffeine."

"Mm. She's right, you know." Clark raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. "You do play a large part in the changes I've made within myself. Meeting you, it made me want to be better. To be more than just the man my father has spent my entire life trying to mold me into."

"Lex-"

"Really, Clark. I hadn't had anyone I could call a true friend for a long time before I met you. I had become jaded long before I was cast out of Metropolis, but then I met you, and it was like a breath of fresh air. You opened my eyes to the fact that not everyone is only looking out for themselves, that there is still good in this world, and you made me want to be a part of that." Lex took another large bite of the french dip before pushing the plate over to Clark, who had already finished his own heaping sandwich. Clark made a token protest, but Lex waved him off, knowing now precisely why the boy always had such a healthy appetite. "I know I haven't always gone about things the most morally appealing way, I've slipped, but I am doing everything I do in the pursuit of the betterment of humanity, Clark. I'm only sorry that some of my less than savory actions have put you and your family, and other good, honest people, in harm's way."

"I thought we were going to table the heavy stuff for now?" Clark sighed and turned in his seat, his crumb-free hand cupping Lex's cheek. "I don't expect you to be perfect, Lex. I'm not. The things I've done…my stint in Metropolis alone should have me seeing the inside of a prison cell for at least five years, regardless of the fact that I was under the influence of red Kryptonite. I…I've hurt people. I've caused pain; death. No one's infallible, Lex, not even me, so how could I expect you to be? It's how we try to repair the damage, and how we go forward that matters."

"Have I told you, I love you?"

Clark smiled that grin that Lex would never grow tired of, the one he always missed when things between them were stressed.

"Not in the last half hour."

"I love you, Clark. I don't think I'll ever not love you."

"I love you, too, Lex, even when you're being so stubborn that I just want to shake you until you see reason. I could never feel less for you than what I feel right now."

Lex stood from his stool and leaned in to brush a soft kiss across Clark's lips. Clapping him on the shoulder, Lex left him to finish his food and crossed over to the door to the cellar.

"Okay, I think I've officially reached my sap limit for the day. Now, does your mother prefer red or white wine?" 

"Um, red, I think."

Lex selected a moderately priced Bordeaux and set it in the fridge to chill.

"Alright, movie? Your choice."

"Sure. Star Wars it is."

Lex shook his head in faux-disappointment; Clark watched his Star Wars box set so often that if the Kents owned a DVD player, he'd have given him one as a gift. Maybe he'd give him a player and some DVDs once he started college.

"Grab some snacks and I'll go set up."

Clark clicked the movie off just as the credits began to roll, looking down at the lax face in his lap. He didn't want to wake Lex from his impromptu nap, but they had barely fifteen minutes to get back to the farm in time for dinner. 

They had easily fallen back into their carefree banter and camaraderie as A New Hope began on the large television Lex kept in the entertainment room, play-fighting for possession of the popcorn bowl, quoting their favorite lines along with the characters. Somewhere along the line, it became more flirty than friendly; the two of them scooting closer together, thighs pressed against each other, Lex's arm draping along the back of the couch behind Clark's neck. His fingers brushed through Clark's hair, petting and gentle. A can of soda shared between them like Clark imagined a couple on a date at an actual movie theater would do. 

Halfway through The Empire Strikes Back, Lex began to droop, curling in towards Clark, his head resting on his shoulder. Clark pressed a kiss to the top of Lex's head, and tugged him to lay down across his lap. Without thought, his hand sought out Lex's wrist and absently stroked over where the bracelet lay beneath the sleeve. It was oddly peaceful like this, and Clark finally began to feel like they were a real couple. He knew they wouldn't really be able to go out on dates, not in town, anyway, but at least they could have this. 

He could feel the hum of contentment exuding from Lex, and he hated to disrupt it, but he gently shook the older man awake, smiling at the momentary fuss he made as he was pulled back into consciousness. 

"Did I fall asleep?"

"Only for an hour. Movie's over, and we gotta head back, like, now, if we're gonna be on time."

Lex stretched and stood up, pulling Clark up with him as he headed out of the room. 

"Want me to clean all that up real quick?"

"I have cleaning staff, remember? Let me just grab the wine from the kitchen and we'll be ready to go."

Lex grabbed the bottle from the fridge and followed Clark to the garage, marveling in bemusement and not a small bit of wonder that he had fallen asleep like that. He had never been a cuddler in his previous relationships, had always shied away from excessive touching that had no sexual intent behind it. But with Clark, he didn't even think, just acted. With Clark, he felt…safe. 

Lex snatched a set of keys from the peg board and ushered Clark into the Ferrari, deciding it would be more likely to get them to the Kent farm a hair faster than the Porsche. He was tempted to let Clark drive just to see his face light up at the opportunity, but refrained at the thought of Jonathan catching his son behind the wheel.

They made it to the farm with barely a minute to spare, Lex slowing the car down to a reluctant 30mph once they reached the dirt drive that led up to the porch. As he'd suspected, Jonathan was leaning against the railing, watching as they pulled up. Clark felt a flicker of discomfort tremble through his mind, and he tried to direct a wave of calm over to Lex, unsure how this new aspect of their connection worked. 

"You'll protect me if he pulls out the shotgun, right?"

"Lex, he's not going to shoot you, even if Mom has told him already." Clark wished his Dad wasn't already outside so that he could have done more to comfort Lex's nerves than just talk. "I doubt she has, anyway. Hey, you're a big, bad CEO, remember? You've faced boardrooms full of men a whole hell of a lot meaner than my dad. Hell, you've survived Lionel. You can manage a family dinner with the man who may or may not know you're dating his eighteen year old son."

Lex put the car in park and took a deep breath as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. Grabbing the bottle of wine from where it was nestled in the center console, he flashed Clark a shaky smile and unbuckled his seat belt.

Clark got out of the car ahead of Lex, opting to field his dad back into the house as Lex trudged up the steps behind him, feeling slightly like he was walking up to the gallows. This was ridiculous, he was a Luthor, and Luthors did not get rattled over dinner with farmers like Jonathan Kent. Forcing all the anxiety behind the walls he'd spent years building, Lex stepped over the threshold.

Martha rushed forward to usher them all towards the table once the screen door closed behind Lex, relieving him of the bottle of wine.

"You have excellent taste in wine, Lex, thank you. Though I'm not sure how well it pairs with meatloaf." Martha took in Clark's change of clothes, but kept silent on it. Instead, she shooed the boys into the dinning room as she went to dig out the wine opener. "Clark, could you be a dear, and grab four wine glasses from the curio before you sit? Everything else is set out. Jonathan, the rolls should be ready now."

Lex sent a silent thanks up to whoever bothered to listen to Luthor's that Martha had so smoothly steered them past the need for awkward small talk. Apparently, she hadn't told Jonathan, after all, or there would have been no stopping him from pulling Lex aside the second they stepped through the door. He helped Clark set out the glasses, mildly surprised that the Kents seemed to be allowing Clark to imbibe, perhaps an extension on his birthday celebrations? He wondered if Clark could even get drunk under normal circumstances.

The table was laden with food, all circled around a vase of fresh sunflowers that stood as the centerpiece. A hefty pan of meatloaf, large bowls of mashed potatoes, and green beans, and  a platter that held a small pyramid of ears of corn; all no doubt made with ingredients fresh from either the Kent farm or one of the neighboring residences. 

Taking his cue from Clark, Lex sat at the place set across from him. He was tempted to stick to the rules of politeness, and pull out Martha's chair for her, but didn't want to ruffle any feathers with Jonathan. 

Shortly after the boys took their seats, the elder Kents came in. Jonathan set the basket of rolls and the butter dish in an empty space beside the pan of meatloaf, sitting down at one end of the table. 

"Alright, boys, help yourselves", Martha instructed as she went around filling the glasses, Clark's only halfway. "Don't think this is going to become a habit, Clark. Half a glass tonight, but then I don't want to find out you've touched a drop of alcohol until Mr. Sullivan's eggnog."

Clark flashed a beaming grin up at her, and Jonathan chuckled softly. Even Lex had to grin; he'd experienced Gabe's famous nog at the plant's Christmas party, and that stuff could have fueled the engine room for a month. 

"Thanks, Mom."

Martha placed a kiss on the top of his head as she passed back behind him towards her own seat, ruffling his hair. 

"Thank you, Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent, for having me over tonight." Lex looked from Martha's warm smile to Jonathan. "I rarely get the chance to sit down for an actual meal these days, unless it's a business dinner, not counting last night, of course."

"It's our pleasure, Lex", Jonathan assured him, to Lex's surprise. "At least this way, Martha gets a bit of the mother hen out of her system."

"Hey!"

Jonathan gave Martha a grin that could only be described as cheeky. For a few minutes, silence resettled over the table as everyone dished food onto their plates, passing bowls and plates to each other that couldn't easily be reached. Lex waited until Jonathan dug into his own plate before picking up his fork and spearing a green bean. 

"We're not waiting for Lois?"

"Not tonight. She's helping Chloe wrap up some big story for her penultimate edition of the Torch", Martha stated simply. "It's part of why I asked you over. Jonathan?"

The elder Kent sighed a heavy breath and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin before turning in his seat to face Lex more fully. A glimmer of what Lex could only read as shame rippled over Jonathan's sun-weathered features, and Lex felt confusion and a hint of worry tremble through from Clark.

"Look, Lu-Lex. It may have dawned on me that I've been neglecting to keep my end of an agreement." Lex set his fork down to give Jonathan his full attention, an eyebrow quirking in bemusement. "It may have only been a verbal request, but we shook on it nonetheless, and that's as good as any contract typed up on paper out here. When you came back from that disaster of a honeymoon, you had barely even recovered from the whole ordeal, and yet, one of the first things you did was gift us back our land. I know I agreed with only a minor hesitation when you claimed all you wanted in return was for us to treat you like family; I just, well, I just kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

You may have done some questionable stunts over the past two years, but even with this debt between us, you never once tried to wheedle us into anything. I was wrong, Lex, to keep thinking you were just a carbon copy of Lionel. This dinner is long overdue, and I can't help but think that if I'd kept my end of the bargain, maybe some of the recent troubles between you and Clark, some of the less-than-ideal choices you made, could've been avoided. I may be set in my ways in a lot of things, but I know when to admit to my mistakes, and…I'm sorry, son, for holding the Luthor name against you before even giving you the chance to show us who you are. I'd forgotten how very young twenty-one truly is, and immediately treated you only as the full-grown adult you tried to show to the world. And, in the spirit of making amends and keeping the promise I made when I shook your hand, there's a standing invitation for you to join us for dinner whenever you'd like."

"And, consider yourself unavailable for any non-LuthorCorp related holiday parties your father may ask you to attend in his stead", Martha tacked on as Lex absorbed Jonathan's speech. She flashed him a pointed look when he turned her way. "Welcome to the family, Lex."

Lex sat there, stunned, as he let the wave of emotions sweep through him, fighting back the slight sting of unexpected tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Son. Jonathan had called him son. All the moments of familial love he'd witnessed between these three and felt a pang of envy and longing. All the time he'd spent wondering how much more enjoyable his life would be if he'd had a family like the Kents instead of Lionel's twisted ideas of love and care. He felt a rush of happiness and warmth flow through him as Clark's face broke into a beaming smile, the teenager's feelings so powerful they bolstered his own. He'd spent four years striving and longing for acceptance and approval from the family circled around him, and now, he apparently had it. He couldn not let this fall apart.

"I…thank you, Mr. Kent; Jonathan. I can't say how much this means to me." Lex cleared his throat, taking a long sip of the wine, and looked between the older Kents. "I must admit, it makes me a lot more hopeful about what I had hoped to discuss with you both tonight."

Martha shot him a questioning glance, and Lex shook his head minutely before he continued.

"I was hoping to seek your advice and insights into some of my business plans." Lex focused his attention on Jonathan for the moment, wanting to read the man's face as he spoke. "I want to reincorporate LexCorp as its own company, wholly separate from LuthorCorp. I have control over both companies at the moment, but since my father's release from prison, and his less than savory dealings with Genevieve Teague, I have cause to be distrustful of his future actions. There are parts of the empire that my father has set up and intricated with LexCorp while he had majority control, that I'd rather be liquidated. I'm in the process of moving quite a few chess pieces in the ongoing game between Lionel and I, and I'd like to ask for your support and input. If I may?"

Jonathan looked back at Lex, his lips thinning into a slightly saddened smile. In another surprising turn of events, he reached out and laid his hand over Lex's, squeezing it gently.

"Son, I can't say as to how much help Martha or I can be, but I can honestly say I'm happy to be of service if I can take part in bringing Lionel Luthor down a couple pegs."

"Jonathan!" On Lex's right, Martha took possession of his other hand. "Sweetie, we'd be honored to help you set yourself up as your own man. Remember, I know how hard it can be to extricate yourself from the life your parents steer you towards."

"Thank you."

"Not to be that guy, but, can we eat now?"

Jonathan let out a hearty chuckle at Clark's interjection, and Lex let a flow of gratitude seep through the bond at the welcome change of subject. He'd had as much emotional outpouring as he could handle for one night; he wasn't built for this level of unquestioning care. 

"Alright, Clark. Dig in."

Dinner was eaten in a flurry of busy talk, discussions about the farm and Clark's encroaching graduation. The meatloaf was easily one of the best dishes Lex had ever eaten, simply for the love with which it was made. Clark talked animatedly with his parents, laughing and smiling, and making sure to pull Lex into the conversation whenever he seemed to be drawing back in on himself. Before he knew it, plates were cleared away, and Lex was being ushered over to the living room and maneuvered onto the couch beside Clark as Martha set about serving dessert.

While Martha and Jonathan were in the kitchen, Clark leaned in close against Lex's side, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

"See? No shotgun. I told you it would be okay."

"Am I dreaming? Has your dad really accepted me as more than that Luthor boy? Pinch me, Clark. Ouch."

"Clark!"

"Sorry, Mom, he asked me to!"

Martha gave an exasperated sigh as she rounded the couch, hands full of plates laden with large slices of pie. Cherry. With heaping scoops of vanilla ice cream on top. Lex flicked his eyes over towards Clark, and they both had to stifle the laughter building up in their chests. Martha caught their smirks and winked at Lex as she handed the boys their desserts. Jonathan followed behind her with a service tray of coffee mugs, cream, and sugar.

As Martha and Jonathan sat down with their own slices, Lex couldn't help but ask the question that had been dancing on his tongue since Jonathan's speech. 

"So, does this mean you're now amenable to presents?"

Caught off-guard, Jonathan let out a short bark of laughter around the mouthful of pie he'd just taken. Swallowing the bite with a shake of his head, he waved his fork in Lex's direction.

"Within reason. Speaking of, I take it that those clothes Clark's got on is a birthday gift?"

Clark looked over at Lex and decided to field this one himself, not wanting the other young man to say too much and end up bringing about even more questions.

"It's part of it. Lex got rid of everything in that room, Dad." Jonathan turned his gaze to Clark, his eyes questioning. Lex, for his part, busied himself with his pie, allowing Clark to take the lead. "He knew how his inquisitive streak was damaging our friendship, so he destroyed all the stuff he'd been collecting from all the weird goings on around town. And, he turned the room into a kinda guest room for me. These were in the closet."

Clark thought it best not to mention that there was also a room just for him at the penthouse, not wanting Jonathan to become too curious. 

"Well. Thank you, Lex. I hope you don't expect Clark to be using that room too often. Even during the summer, we'll still need him around the house to help with the farm."

"Yes, sir." Lex didn't really plan on Clark using the room he'd set up for him that much at all, now that things between them had changed so dramatically. 

After coffee and pie, and a refusal of help with the dishes, Lex thanked the Kents for the meal, and the sentiment that had been extended, and followed Clark out to the barn. His head full of emotion, his and Clark's, he was happy to be pulled into Clark's warm embrace once they'd reached the privacy of the loft. 

"It's definitely been an unexpected twenty-four hours, Clark."

"In a good way, I hope?"

"In the best way." Lex snaked a hand around the back of Clark's neck and pulled him into a kiss, their tongues meeting and moving against each other slowly, softly, neither of them really looking for more than just this. 

Breaking the kiss when he inevitably felt his body begin to respond, Clark pressed his forehead against Lex's. 

"I feel a bit guilty, not telling Jonathan about us. Especially now that he's finally starting to warm up to me."

"Don't. I'm eighteen now, I have a right to privacy when it comes to my sex life."

Clark let out a chuckle as he heard a voice floating out from the house.

"Mom's warning me not to stay up too late."

"Guess that's my cue, then. Did you want to come over tomorrow?"

"I'm meeting Lana at the Talon to study, but we can meet up there and hang out until she arrives? Mom'll be off shift before we even get close to finishing, so Lana was going to drive us back. Maybe you could drive me home instead?"

"It's a date. The Talon's probably a safe bet since we're there all the time anyway. Say, two-ish?"

Clark agreed and they slowly made their way back down to Lex's car. 

"Can I come over once they're all asleep?"

"Clark…"

"Please? It'll be hard enough sleeping on that couch, alone, after how amazing it was sleeping with you in my arms last night."

Lex sighed. He knew it would be hard for him, too. 

"Fine. But, only for a few minutes. I don't feel like tempting fate just yet."

Looking around for any observers, Clark quickly kissed Lex in thanks, a smile bright on his face in the darkening light. Lex started the car and reversed until he could turn around, Clark watching him as he drove down the dirt road back towards the mansion. The soft smile on his own lips stayed in place until he turned the ignition off, the shroud of loneliness of the empty castle falling around him. He felt a nudge of comfort from Clark as he walked through the drafty stone hallways to his room, and stripping out of his clothes, he let the exhaustion of such a whirlwind day lull him to sleep until Clark could slip into bed beside him. He knew it was more than likely that once Clark was in his room, neither of them would want him to leave until the last possible minute. 

~~~~~~~~~

@leatafandom

[astrologer18]

lost love back in australia

In the vast landscape of human emotions, few experiences are as poignant and universally relatable as the journey of rediscovering lost love back in Australia. Set against the backdrop of the enchanting land of Australia, this article explores the profound and often tumultuous path that individuals tread when endeavoring to reignite the flames of a once cherished romance.

lost love back in Australia, with its breathtaking natural beauty and diverse cultural tapestry, serves as a fitting stage for tales of love lost and found. From the sun-kissed beaches of the Gold Coast to the vibrant streets of Melbourne, the Australian landscape resonates with the echoes of heartfelt stories of love and longing.

For many, the journey of lost love back in australia begins with a sense of yearning—a subtle tug at the heartstrings that refuses to be ignored. It may come in the form of a fleeting memory, a familiar scent, or the haunting melody of a forgotten love song. Regardless of its guise, this longing sets the wheels of introspection in motion, prompting individuals to revisit the chapters of their past in search of closure and renewal.

In the bustling city of Sydney, amidst the hustle and bustle of everyday life, one may find Sarah and James, two souls intertwined in a dance of love and loss. Once deeply enamored with each other, their relationship had weathered its share of storms before ultimately succumbing to the passage of time. Yet, despite the years that had elapsed since their parting, the embers of their love continued to smolder beneath the surface, waiting to be reignited.

For Sarah, the decision to embark on a journey to rediscover lost love  back in Australia was both daunting and liberating. Fueled by a sense of curiosity and a desire for closure, she found herself drawn back to the familiar streets of Sydney, where memories of their shared past lingered like ghosts in the shadows.

As she retraced the footsteps of their once-cherished romance, Sarah was met with a flood of emotions—joyful recollections mingled with the bittersweet pang of regret. Yet, amidst the cacophony of feelings, she remained steadfast in her resolve to confront the ghosts of her past and reclaim the love that had eluded her for so long.

Meanwhile, James, too, found himself grappling with the ghosts of their shared history. Haunted by the memory of Sarah and the lost love back In australia they had lost, he found solace in the tranquil beauty of Australia's natural wonders. From the rugged cliffs of the Great Ocean Road to the serene serenity of the Blue Mountains, James sought refuge in the healing embrace of nature, hoping to find clarity amidst the chaos of his emotions.

It was amidst this backdrop of introspection and self-discovery that Sarah and James's paths converged once more. In a serendipitous twist of fate, they found themselves standing face to face, their hearts laid bare before each other. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as they embraced the opportunity to rewrite the narrative of their love story—to mend the broken pieces of their hearts and forge a new path forward, together.

As they navigated the complexities of rekindling their romance, Sarah and James discovered that Lost Love Back In Australia, much like the Australian landscape, is ever-changing and infinitely resilient. It ebbs and flows like the tides of the ocean, guided by the currents of fate and the whims of destiny. Yet, beneath the surface, its essence remains unchanged—a beacon of hope amidst the darkest of nights, a testament to the enduring power of the human heart.

Their journey of rediscovering Lost Love Back In Australia was not without its challenges. It required courage, vulnerability, and a willingness to confront the ghosts of their past. Yet, in the end, it was these very challenges that brought them closer together, forging a bond that was stronger and more resilient than ever before.

[rishabhbossblog]

Best Romeo and Juliet Pick Up Lines: For Romantic Lovers

Romeo and Juliet, the iconic tale of love and tragedy penned by William Shakespeare, has captivated hearts for centuries. Its timeless romance continues to inspire lovers around the world. What better way to ignite your own passion than with Hoodville pick up lines? Embracing the spirit of Shakespeare's iconic love story, Romeo and Juliet, can add a touch of class and passion to your romantic endeavours. If you're searching for the perfect words to melt hearts and make sparks fly, look no further than these best Romeo and Juliet pick up lines.

If I were Romeo, would you be my Juliet? For my heart longs to find its true love, and in you, I see my destiny. Are you a Montague or a Capulet? Because from the moment I saw you, I knew our love was destined to defy all odds. Just like Romeo couldn't resist Juliet's beauty, I find myself captivated by the radiance of your smile. Will you be the Juliet to my Romeo? In a world full of chaos, let's be calm in each other's storms. Our love will be as legendary as that of Romeo and Juliet. If I were Romeo, you would be my Juliet. Let's reenact this timeless love story and create our own happy ending together. If love be blind, then let us stumble together in its sweet embrace. For in your arms, I find clarity amidst the chaos, and in your kiss, I taste the sweet nectar of true love. They say Romeo fell for Juliet at first sight. Well, I believe in love at first sight too. And you, my dear, have stolen my heart. If a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, then you must be the sweetest of them all. Will you be my Juliet, and let me be your Romeo? Like Romeo risked everything for Juliet, I would cross oceans and climb mountains just to be with you. Our love will conquer all, just like theirs did. Let's write our own love story, where we defy expectations and embrace our passion. Our romance will be as epic as that of Romeo and Juliet. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? For you are more lovely and more temperate. Your beauty outshines the sun itself, and in your eyes, I find eternal warmth. My love for you is like the night; without it, I am lost in darkness. But with you by my side, I am illuminated by the brilliance of your affection. Like Romeo to Juliet, I am willing to defy the stars for you. For even fate cannot keep us apart when our love burns brighter than any constellation. If love be blind, then let us stumble together in its sweet embrace. For in your arms, I find clarity amidst the chaos, and in your kiss, I taste the sweet nectar of true love. Fair Juliet, may I be the Romeo to your balcony? For I would climb the highest heights just to be near you, and with every step, my love for you grows stronger. As Romeo once declared, 'It is my soul that calls upon thy name.' So too does my soul yearn for yours, entwined in an eternal dance of love and devotion. If I were Romeo and you Juliet, I would defy the enmity of our families to be with you. For in your eyes, I see not the division of our houses, but the unity of our hearts. Let us rewrite the stars, my dear Juliet, for our love story deserves a happy ending. With you, I am willing to defy destiny itself and carve our own path to forever. In a world full of noise, let our love be the only sonnet worth hearing. For with every word whispered between us, we script our own tale of passion and devotion, just like Romeo and Juliet. Conclusion: In the realm of romance, few stories hold the enduring allure of Romeo and Juliet. Remember, these Romeo and Juliet pick up lines are best delivered with sincerity and a genuine heart. Let the timeless love story of Romeo and Juliet inspire you to express your feelings in a way that is both captivating and romantic. With a touch of Shakespearean flair, you're sure to sweep your beloved off their feet and make them fall head over heels for you. In the game of love, sometimes a little literary inspiration can go a long way. So, go ahead, channel your inner Romeo or Juliet, and let your love story begin! Read more:- https://rishabhboss.com/best-romeo-and-juliet-pick-up-lines-for-lover/ Author Profile:- Rishabh Boss I am from Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh. To pursue my passion for blogging, I started blogging at the age of 13, and now I am 19 years old. I have been working on more than 20 websites now. I recently completed my graduation in 2022. Likewise, I have a thorough knowledge of on-page and off-page SEO, as well as web design. I believe in my skills and experience.

[mixedmagics-blog]

The Street Diary ღ

: Follow my journey as I navigate life on the streets while battling addiction. Join me as I share my daily diary entries, shedding light on the challenges, triumphs, and unexpected moments that come with living on the edge.

"Waking Up to Uncertainty"

╭──╯ . . . . .Every morning, I wake up to the harsh reality of life on the streets. The concrete becomes my bed, and the sounds of the city become my alarm clock. As I rub my tired eyes, I reach for my worn-out diary, my only companion in this chaotic world. It's time to document another day in my life, a life filled with addiction and uncertainty.

"The Quest for Survival"

╭──╯ . . . . .With the sun rising, I embark on my daily quest for survival. The streets become my playground, and every corner holds a potential opportunity. Whether it's searching for discarded bottles to exchange for spare change or scrounging for food in dumpsters, I navigate this concrete jungle with determination. It's a constant battle against hunger, cold, and the relentless grip of addiction.

"The Unexpected Acts of Kindness"

╭──╯ . . . . .Amidst the harsh realities of street life, there are moments of unexpected kindness that restore my faith in humanity. A stranger offering a warm meal, a passerby lending a listening ear – these small acts of compassion remind me that there is still goodness in the world. They give me hope and strength to keep pushing forward, one day at a time.

"The Temptation Lurking in Shadows"

╭──╯ . . . . .Addiction is a relentless beast that lurks in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It whispers in my ear, promising temporary relief from the harshness of reality. The temptation is always there, but I fight tooth and nail to resist its seductive call. Each day is a battle against my own demons, a battle I refuse to lose.

"Finding Solace in Unexpected Places"

╭──╯ . . . . .In the midst of chaos, I find solace in unexpected places. A quiet park bench becomes my sanctuary, where I can momentarily escape the noise and find solace in my thoughts. Nature becomes my therapist, offering a sense of peace and tranquility that is often elusive in this concrete jungle. It's in these moments that I find the strength to keep going, to keep fighting for a better tomorrow.

"The Power of Connection"

╭──╯ . . . . .Loneliness is a constant companion on the streets, but I've learned that connection can be found in the most unlikely of places. Whether it's striking up a conversation with a fellow struggler or sharing a laugh with a passerby, these fleeting moments of connection remind me that I am not alone in this battle. They remind me that we are all fighting our own demons, and together, we can find strength.

"The Glorious Taste of Sobriety"

╭──╯ . . . . .Sobriety is a hard-won victory, a taste of glory amidst the chaos. Each day that I resist the pull of addiction is a triumph, a step closer to reclaiming my life. It's not an easy journey, but the rewards are immeasurable. Sobriety brings clarity, hope, and the promise of a brighter future. It's a reminder that I am more than my addiction, that I am capable of rewriting my story.

"The Power of Hope"

╭──╯ . . . . .Hope is the fuel that keeps me going, even on the darkest of days. It's the belief that there is a light at the end of this long, winding tunnel. Hope whispers in my ear, urging me to keep pushing forward, to keep fighting for a better life. It's a powerful force that can turn despair into determination, and it's what keeps me going, one day at a time.

"A Journey Worth Sharing"

╭──╯ . . . . .My daily diary is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. It's a glimpse into a life often overlooked and misunderstood. Through my words, I hope to shed light on the struggles, triumphs, and unexpected moments that come with living on the streets and battling addiction. This is my journey, and I invite you to join me as I navigate the highs and lows, the tears and laughter, and ultimately, the pursuit of a better life.

Follow my journey as I navigate life on the streets while battling addiction. Join me as I share my daily diary entries, shedding light on the challenges, triumphs, and unexpected moments that come with living on the edge. Discover the power of hope, the strength of connection, and the taste of sobriety in this witty and heartfelt account of a life worth fighting for.

ღ

[littlewalken]

Jun 17

More writing done yesterday, I think it's progressing along well. I'm doing it in cursive, I learned how to do that before many of y'all were born, and it's worked in that I was able to go back and write in the margin where I had accidentally put in a character thing too early so I could just scribble in the margin 'we don't know Jack is ___ yet' and that will be taken care of when I type it.

Honestly, kids, write your story out on paper, especially in the early drafts, and physically look at it. Sprawl Mart composition books are cheaper than spiral binders.

This particular story has been written, edited, and typed before. It was okay but I felt it needed a little something, mostly a change of tone and some inner dialog for the characters, so I know where it's going.

I think the last time I had aa hand written story go this quick was the mask story, I know which one that is, at a time when it was pulling several scenarios together and the stuff just needed to flow. Once the Jack story is written out that one could be next.

We'll just say I have about five stories at the most that currently exist in previous typed forms of varying lengths but needed to be redrafted for tone/clarity/ran out of gas reasons. I'm at the point in my writing where even if I'm going to rewrite something until that's typed and done a previous version will stay on the puter for reasons.

This also ties in with my thoughts about how all those 'I have alters' kids seem to boil down to the trap of claiming to want to be original but many having the exact same thing. All of them have cheesemakers, weasel stompers, dolls haunted with the ghost of a Victorian child, and video game/cartoon blorbo.

It's like assigning everyone in the writing group to do a fan fiction rewrite of something with one of the rules being 'don't just make a character(s) trans for the sake of being trans' and having to send 95% or the papers back.

If everyone is trans no one is trans.

If everyone is a DiD system then no one is a DiD system.

Do I have trans characters? Yes, I haven't bothered to ask many of them but I do have one main character that is and it's not their personality. I also have a character whom I haven't decided if they actually disassociate or it's a lesser sort of fugue state. The 'alter' is part of the plot and has its base in trauma but I want to give it a grounded plausible base with the character's back story and it doesn't involve sexual abuse.

There's another trans character that's... I'll use bread dough as an analogy because what started as one character to fill a plot need has risen and split in to what I would like to be two distinct characters. One will cross dress for plot reasons, but doesn't know if they will continue after, the other for character reasons and probably will keep the change.

However it ends up writing it out will be helpful in making it happen.

[justbelievinginmagic]

I Need U - Chapter 2: Where Did You Come From? Will You Tell Me Your Name?

a super-slow burn hyyh / bangtan universe au ft oc x taehyung, oc x seokjin, yoongi x jungkook, ot7 & oc being pals.

series summary:  Song Nari still couldn’t wrap her mind around it. How was she here? Stuck in a world that felt more like a nightmare than reality. How did she end up here - wishing at a lookout point above the rolling sea in the dead of night besides a high school friend that she hadn’t seen or talked to in over a year? How did she end up here after all she did was chase down the seven delinquents who graffitied her car to give them a piece of her mind?

chapter summary: Nari wished that was the last time she ever saw those boys.

warnings: implied/referenced drug and alcohol use, explicit language, Bangtan Boys are delinquents, oc holds a grudge.

word count: 5.6K

A/N: hi this chapter has been rewritten & reposted as of July 2022. Its been a year since starting to write I Need U and I want so badly to finish it. So I started to reread it (since i did take a hiatus away from it and lost the voice of the characters). I discovered rewriting bits just to tighten up their relationships/experience/etc was really fun so here we are lol. If you have been reading I Need U for a while, major plot points will not be changing as of now - but these chapters are rewritten for more clarity. you wont be missing out on anything if you dont reread them but their relationships/personalities are a bit more fleshed out.

series’ masterlist

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Nari thought that she would never see those delinquents ever again. Yes, she was going to forget that night even happened (after her week of being grounded from using her car was up.) Her car was still in a horrid state – red paint blurring her windshield horribly so. No matter how much cleaning fluid or paint thinner she used, there was a pink haze over the glass. Her fingernails ached from how much she scrubbed and picked at the paint the morning after the event.

The universe, however, refused to give her the closure of that night being done for good.

Jimin had been the first one to notice her just a week after the incident at, of all places, school.

Songju Jeil High School: the public high school of the city, not for the extremely rich or the extremely poor. But with its newly funded school building, it had become a beacon of hope for the town. New and old students from varying communities commuted to the school now, split between rooms of prettied walls or aging peeling halls. A toss of the coin if you were placed in the old building versus the shiny new one.

It occurred during lunch time.

The cafeteria was a relic of the older part of the school – covered in linoleum floors, large concrete columns, and beige walls with layered paint. A sea of long blue laminated lunch tables filled the room in uniformed rows. Large windows lined the furthest wall, revealing the gloom of the cloudy spring day and making the huge room rely on the overhead ceiling lamps. The mismatch of yellow-toned fluorescent lights and the newer blue-lit LEDS painted the room in an uneven hue.

Amongst a hum of a conversation between Namjoon and Taehyung, Jimin found himself blurred. In and out of focus like a camera lens. His eyes wandered around the school’s cafeteria, listening to shouts from other teenagers and the overlapping chatter of different stories conveyed with different accents from the neighboring cities, and sometimes, even neighboring regions. It wasn’t rare now to have classmates who lived hours away.

There was no question about it when he spotted her – even though the blaring LED lights above her painted her in a different complexion compared to the roaring warmth of the amber firelight where they met. Alongside that, she looked so different in the school’s navy-blue uniform jacket, white button up, and red skirt – and not the oversized pink hoodie she wore that night a week ago. But that was her. Jimin was certain of it.

With a pressing look in his wide eyes, he nudged Hoseok with his elbow, jabbing into prominent ribs before whispering into the elder’s ear. A laugh of disbelief left Hoseok, a hand raising to cover his heart-shaped grin of amusement. Hoseok drew attention as he always did, drawing the eyes of the others at the table. As he spoke for Jimin, the group searched the lunch room, and Taehyung pointed when they found her, sitting in the corner of the room.

Nari’s dark hair was loose around her face, but they could see her hand twitch as she moved to tuck it behind her ear. Her posture seemed so unfrightening now, but there was the utter reminder of her previous anger in the boys. A guard-dog doesn’t seem docile when its pawing at an owner’s knee.

Seokjin glanced away in nonchalant disregard at the sight of her, his ears burning a pink color. He was frustrated at the way that encounter went – especially since it led to the demise of the most softest blanket he owned. He didn’t care that she was here – if anything, perhaps he could get her into trouble for the mess she caused. But there was the realization that was slow to crawl up his neck in a red hue, that if he did so, he’d be in trouble too. Silence was a good ally to have he decided then.

Jungkook stuttered out something, commenting to the group that he wondered if she’d follow through with calling the police on them. Taehyung rolled his eyes lightly. He didn’t care if she did. It’d be another day hopping in and out of the cops grasp then. But his eyes did wander back to her again.

He had thought about that night a lot these past few days. Thought about her. She was pretty – rageful but pretty. He didn’t even know her name and he was thinking about her in the firelight. He didn’t like that she was angry – Taehyung didn’t like anger. But he liked how strong-willed she was. It was hot. He knew other people would just go home and wipe the paint he sprayed off, but she chased after them. He thought there were sparks in her eyes when she had glared at him from her car, even when she was scolding them. He liked that she had independence, just a bit of chaos like they did.

Namjoon had already called him stupid when he spilled his harmless crush with the group a few days ago. (“I’m just saying she was pretty!” Taehyung defended. “She legit threatened to kick your ass.” Namjoon called back with his eyes rolling. “Do you want a girl kicking your ass, Taehyungie?” Seokjin teased from the sidelines. A pillow got thrown at Seokjin quickly as Taehyung scrambled to push at him with laughter on his lips. “Shut up – this hyung!”)

But Taehyung’s crush was minimal, momentary and fleeting. Like most boys’ crushes in high school, it was fickle like the wind. He didn’t know her, and he never would.

Until she was sitting there, only twenty feet away in a bustling cafeteria. Her uniform was in perfect condition, her short hair now pushed behind both ears (annoyance written on her brows when a strand dangled over her eyes once it slipped from its spot.) She looked different Taehyung decided. Her face calmed as soon as the annoying strand of hair listened to her, staying tucked behind pierce-less ears. Lips smooth and focused eyes, she was diligent in scribbling in the notebook besides her meal. Watching her from the corner of his eye, Taehyung could see her pink tongue peeking out every now and then to swipe over her lower lip in thought.

She was alone, fiddling with her chopsticks as they hovered over a lunch box she brought. Her other hand grasped a pen which she scribbled with haphazardly. From here, the group of delinquents could tell she wasn’t waiting for anyone else. There was no glance about for friends or tapping of a foot – she was focused on her work.

Nari had friends, of course. But often times, her workload pushed her away from them. Good grades were the ultimate goal. No, she needed to have amazing grades. She was meant to be a doctor or a lawyer or something like that. Far away from the humble office worker life her father and mother both lived. Her sister, Song Jisoo – who was five years her elder, was already in nursing school. Both her parents pushed her to have high grades in STEM, just like her sister before her.

Eventually though, you ignore enough texts and calls that your friends fade away. Nari knew where they were - even now. They were eating at a table right by the basketball courts. She had looked for them the first day they didn’t show up at their usual table, the same one she sat at alone. She found them there, talking behind her back. Back pressed to the old brick walls of the building, she listened. They called her horrible things – compared her to a robot, little less than that. She was so focused on work that all her hobbies had faded away they said. All she did was study. She didn’t care about them they said. She noticed when the group chat went silent, too. Nari assumed they made another one without her.

It annoyed her that she did miss them. It was her fault – but was it really her fault? She had to study. In life you had only one chance at making it. And you needed good grades. It was just too hard to balance school, work, and life. They didn’t. Jiwoo, Sungho, Chanmi, and Eunmi didn’t excel – but they were her childhood friends. They knew how much she had to work to keep up in certain subjects. It annoyed her that they didn’t understand. It hurt when she felt a tingle of hope when they pass to go to their spot outside. She held that bitterness close to her chest ever since. She didn’t turn to look as they pass now. It’d been six months since they stopped talking to her.

Nari was used to being alone. Used to the anger that tickled the back of her brain, at the frustration that nipped at her veins, and the anxiety of “not enough” echoing in her bones. She buried it in notes and textbooks. She’d read; she’d study; she’d take extra shifts; she’d write in her journal. She can feel fine. Anything to keep the loneliness and anger done when it crept up her throat like indigestion. For now, it was just her, her banana milk yogurt, her lunchbox, and her chemistry notes. She never spotted the figure approaching her table, too immersed in her small life of a world.

Yoongi was the one who stood up suddenly and left the group that was whispering at the table. Words spoken over one another – all about a girl. Some were teasing Taehyung for his crush. Laughing at that night’s activities from the traffic stop to the earlier smoking session. Wondering aloud if she was going to beat them up or call the police (another voice reassuring the other that wouldn’t happen). Yoongi had enough of it. This girl was going to drive them nuts. They’d just keep talking about her.

His beat-up converse stopped right in front of her, the blue laminated particleboard table and three plastic chairs were the only thing separating them.

“Hey,” his voice was smooth and utterly calm.

Her eyes rose in alarm, startled like a doe. Brown eyes rushing to meet his dark, nearly black eyes. Plump cheeks flushed red, and she nearly did a double take. Nari could recognize his hair anywhere, blue fading into a mint color. He went to her school? How the hell did she not know this? She never saw him before that night but yet here he was in the school uniform – his tie loose around his throat, his jacket, new but unbuttoned and not ironed to a crisp like hers. His hand moved from his trousers’ pocket to wave lightly at her before slyly moving his shoulders aside to show the group of delinquent boys only a few tables away, trying their best not to look like they were staring at her and Yoongi.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered out, head rolling back to stare at the ceiling. Her chopsticks were stuck straight down into her clump of rice in her lunchbox. Her mind raced to the worst scenario. This was it. She was going to get into actual trouble for her stupidity. The one time she let herself be free and angry.

“Shit,” she added after a moment.

That made Yoongi laugh, the noise come from his throat in a low staccato.

“You’re going to kick our ass, right?” he queried, his tone almost lazy. He knew there was no threat as she moved her gaze back to his. If she cared about social status, she’d feel the glances of the cafeteria around them. Why was one of the academic achievers speaking to someone barely passing Literature class? Nari didn’t feel the murmurs; she was zoned in on the blue-haired boy.

She remembered him from that night. His glare was the heaviest of the lot. Too calm and composed but also festering. His eyes said a lot and now they were cool as a cat’s gaze. But a gleam of amusement gleamed.

Her hand rose to pinch the bridge of her nose, cheeks still burning a rosy color. Those words would bite her in the ass. God, what if they reported her to school? She couldn’t have this stain on her record. Nari really couldn’t. Eyes shutting for a moment, she opened them.

There wasn’t a hint of begging in her face. For some reason, Yoongi had expected her to grovel. She seemed too good. Too high strung. Instead, she let out a laugh - a bit nervous and a bit too sharp to be seen as lovely. Her tongue prodded at the corner of her mouth in subtle annoyance at her past self’s words before she met his gaze steadily.

“Listen, let’s just forget about it,” she grunted out, her tone serious – even if she raised a hand to wave it, as if brushing over the topic. “You guys were drunk or high or whatever illegality you guys were doing; I was tired and angry.”

Her gaze stayed locked with his. There was a long pause. Amusement slowly pooled into his eyes even more, crickling the edges of his eyes, yet his still calm expression and straight-faced lips didn’t shift. There was the ache of the word ‘please’ on her tongue, but it never tumbled out.

He pushed himself up from the table – when had he leaned forward, half of his body hovering over it?

“Mmhmm,” he hummed simply, eyeing her with a tilt of his head before turning on his heel. “Bye, crazy girl,” he called over his shoulder.

When he settled back down with his group, they all jumped onto Yoongi despite the stare of a blush-faced girl twenty feet away. What did you say, hyung? What did she say? Was she angry? Why is she red, hyung? That was quick, Yoongs! What happened?

“She isn’t gonna do anything to any of us,” he scoffed. Like she could beat them up? They both were in the wrong; Yoongi knew that.  “Forget about it. Forget about her.”

If only it could be that easy.

Taehyung had to admit: she looked cute with blushed cheeks.

---

It would’ve been nice if that was the only encounter. Hell, seeing them sitting at their spot every day at lunch made her cheeks flush in embarrassment (much to the secret enjoyment of Taehyung.) She was starting to debate if she should just eat her lunch in the library to avoid their gaze – well, the handful of eyes that still seemed to flicker over to her throughout the lunch period.

Nari knew her temper had gotten the best of her then. She knew she shouldn’t ever threaten violence nor chase after boys in the middle of the night. And now, whenever she caught the eye of one of them, all she felt was stupid. Because she had messed up and somehow was still on their mind. She could feel eyes on her now – and when Nari glanced up, she saw the eyes of the shaggy haired boy shifting away.

What if they were plotting to beat her up instead? Oh, it made her stomach queasy and her hand holding her pencil stumble over her notes. The blue haired guy could throw a punch with how he held himself – calm but like there was something lingering behind his dark eyes. A calm before a storm was never truly calm.

Or maybe the one with pink hair – though it was fading from pink to a bleached orange-blonde now. He looked tall, lanky and not yet grown into his height– his uniform was ill-fitting on him and, for some reason, it made her feel like it was less about the way it was tailored and more about how he held himself or articulated with his facial features. He looked too arrogant sometimes – the way he smiled was the one she saw the fuck boys at school use, even if the dimples made it a bit less greasy.

Lunch time wasn’t the only time she ran into the group. No, it got worse when her literature class got rearranged with the class next door. The professor was away on maternity leave and the school had no substitute teachers available in the district. They made due with shoving more desks into the room until they were pressed tightly next to one another.  A small pathway made its way through the old small room that now housed over 40 students.

Nari was surprised no one was cheating – but perhaps that’s because she didn’t cheat. She glanced over her shoulder during tests and felt jittery, never at ease while taking her quizzes. There were so many people, so close. It made the room mucky. She hated it. She hated her arm brushing against someone she didn’t know and she hated how easy it was for someone to look over her shoulder at her answers.

“You got an A+?” a male voice commented, too close to her ear as he leaned over her shoulder to look at her work. She flinched away a bit as her gaze quickly shifted to look at him. Nari recognized him.

Orange-haired boy didn’t look as tough in a school uniform compared to the blue-leather jacket he wore the night she met him. Here, he almost looked bashful. With full plump lips and wide eyes at her small flinch, his hands rose in surrender.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he reassured in a squeak.

Nari scoffed at that.

He looked almost hurt at the sound, brows tilting innocently up to the ceiling.

“I mean it,” his brows pursed together in mild offense. “Sorry about your car,” he added as an after-thought. “Is it any better?”

“No,” Nari said simply. Her hands flatted the paper down on the desk; her nail bed was stained a raw red color from the spray paint still, and it had been a week already since she tried to clean the windshield. “I scrubbed at it for hours, and its still ruined,” she added.

His face looked genuinely sad when she glanced back at him. A soft hum of disappointment left his throat; his pouty lower lip was caught between his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think it’d be that bad.”

All Nari did was shrug. There was an odd air of distance in her. She was mostly still embarrassed about that night. Jimin wasn’t though. He leaned back after a moment and settled in his chair. The chatter around them was settling as the overworked professor made the last round through the crowds, the stack of papers in his hand lessening as he went. Nari glanced back at Jimin as he moved, her gaze brushing over his exam’s grade.

Her brows crinkled, and her own lips pouted a bit. Her hand reached out to turn the paper to face her in a swish.

“You got an A, too,” Nari commented. How come she never knew about him in this class? Like any high achieving student, she usually knew the others who got A’s. Not in friendliness mind you. It was more like a competition. If there was one thing Nari couldn’t turn down, it was a challenge.

Jimin’s cheeks warmed to a pretty pink. “Yeah, I like this class a lot actually.” He commented. “This professor’s a bit different.”

He was part of the other class then. And into literature as well. Some people were good essay writers; others were good literature readers. Nari wasn’t certain which he was yet.

“I’m Park Jimin,” he offered his hand. It was harmless even when she noted the gleam of the many intimidating rings on his hand.

His brown eyes were hopeful and sweet as honey. He didn’t take chance a lot. Hoseok was the outgoing friend; that’s how he became friends with the rest – through Hoseok’s kindness and innate ability to bring people together.

Nari swallowed, eyes shifting to his hand and back to his face.

“Song Nari,” she introduced herself, her smaller hand going to shake his hand softly.

“Are you two done chatting?” The teacher scolded, the pair pulling apart immediately and looking up at the professor. Nari was quick to duck her head down in respect.

“Sorry, professor!” they blurted out in respect.

---

Jimin and Nari talked in literature class now. He shared his favorite novels with her; they were usually fantasy stories where the main character was the hero in some distant, far-off world. Or they were manga stories that he scrolled through his phone to show her the titles of. Passion and excitement riddled in his quiet voice, his dialect coming out in rumbles that made his words roll together like the waves of Busan’s shore where he came from.

After every class, they’d walk out together, only for the shaggy haired boy to be leaning on the nearby wall fiddling with his uniform jacket’s sleeves. His hands had the same stains hers did. Splotches of red, blue, and yellow decorated his long tan fingers.

Each time he spotted her, he beamed his boxy smile.

“Hey, crazy girl,” he greeted – picking up the nickname the blue-haired boy used – before he slung his arm around his friend’s shoulder, flashed her a peace sign, and walked off. Every time he enjoyed how her nose twitched and her cheeks warmed to a rosy color of annoyance. He loved making her red – with anger, shyness, or flusterment. Nari looked pretty. But then, he’d be gone, walking toward the rest of his group, towards the storage room they had claimed as their own in a rundown part of the school. That was the extent of their relationship.

It bugged her how he never apologized. At least Jimin did. (She even lamented once when Jimin settled down behind her into his desk – she muttered out that his friend was an unapologetic jerk when she spotted him in the halls and he flashed a peace sign her way over his eye – then winked.) This guy was the reason why her car was damaged and he didn’t even care.

At this rate, she considered Jimin and herself to be school acquaintances. Close enough to ask how their day was going. Not close enough to share each other’s phone numbers with one another for class work. Not that she minded. Nari was busy studying anyways.

Still shaggy haired boy with the fading green highlights – she never got his name – made Nari cross her arms in frustration. A huff escaped her lips. Why did she want him to apologize? It wouldn’t fix anything. Things would be so much easier if they didn’t see each other again.

---

Two weeks later, shaggy haired boy met her properly.

“Nari-ah,” he called after her. Even after their few encounters, Nari could pick his voice out in a crowd by now. It was deeper than most boys… and loud.

Turning her head, she saw him running up to her, skipping one and then two stairs to catch up to her. His uniform was askew; his tie was undone and slipping down his shoulders. Classes were done, but, by the wrinkled state of his shirt and lack of a jacket, it was clear he hadn’t been put together all day.

“How’d you learn my name?” Nari commented, her hands grabbing her backpack’s straps as she turned to face him fully.

“We have math together. I sit in the back or I skip… I skip a lot.” There was a beat as he stepped up one more step. She was still two steps ahead of him, but their heights evened out, allowing his eyes to meet hers. “Also, Jiminie told me,” he admitted with a bashful laugh. His smile was boxy and bright. “How’s your car?”

“My windshield is still stained,” Nari bit back, clearly annoyed.

He made a face at that.

“I am sorry,” he said, biting his lower lip. It looked different on him than it did Jimin. “It was for fun.”

There was a satisfaction – curling up her in her chest like a flame. A ghost of smile at the corner of her lips showed itself like a gift to Taehyung. It was worth the apology if she smiled at him. Like a cat, she wanted to preen, fluff in contentment even if his argument still made pin-prickles of annoyance climb up her spine.

“You did it for fun,” she scoffed. But her tone lacked the genuine anger. It was still disapproving though. “You’re lucky no one called the police. I saw that one guy with the dark hair, tall dude – he spat his drink into a car! If that’d been me, I’d be fucking furious.”

The curse left her lips easily. There was a prodding in the back of her head to be more courteous. Ladies didn’t curse, her mother stressed. Academic starlets didn’t curse like sailors. Taehyung laughed lowly.

“Yeah, Hobi was a bit out of it; I think it was the pills and the alcohol,” he commented, scratched the back of his head. His hair floofed up in the back messily.

She tilted her head at him with that information. She wasn’t impressed. Nari didn’t particularly love druggies. Sure, people smoked and got high – she knew that well enough. The streets still smelled like nicotine and addiction. She didn’t want that. Nari turned to start to walk away.

Taehyung could feel his cheeks burn, and his stomach twist with something. Why was he nervous? Why did he not want her to go? She was just another girl. Sure, a pretty girl but there are plenty of pretty girls who like bad boys. She didn’t even like him and his friends. She was mad at them. So why did he care what she thought? In the end, he had fun that night. A mixture of high through his veins and the blurriness of alcohol left him soft and pliant after the chaos. It soothed his aches and pains for just a moment. He had fun. His friends had fun. Here, he was letting her scold him – and now that she was stopping, he still felt bad and wanting.

Wanting for what? - he wasn’t sure.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her before she could descend further up the school stairs. Nari froze, a Mary Jane shoed foot hovering over the stair.

“Let me make it up to you,” Taehyung pleaded lightly.

Her brows quirked, doubtfully raised before she turned to look at him. Her gaze flickered to her hand where his large hand wrapped around her wrist. He let go immediately almost like she burned him, his hands moving to shove themselves into the pockets of his uniformed pants.

“We are having a party. It’ll be fun,” he offered. A beat passed. “Jimin will be there. You guys are friends, right?”

Friends was a hopeful term. She knew his taste in books and online webcomics. That was it.

“I don’t even know your name,” Nari diverted with a humorless laugh, furrowing her brows at him. “Why would you want me at a party?”

It was almost funny if it didn’t feel so weird. She could tell he felt bad – probably because someone finally stood up to him – but there was a such a difference to how he held himself compared to that night and now, somewhat sober (she could smell weed on him) and soft. It was whiplash inducing. There was this chaos in him still she could feel it. When he grabbed her wrist, when he laughed. That wildness when he jumped on her car; a freedom she doubted she ever would feel. Why did he care?

“Because I think if you saw how we were, you wouldn’t think we were these horrible people. And-” he defended before, with a quickness, his hand left his pocket to reach out to her in greeting.

“I’m Kim Taehyung,” he finally introduced himself with a genuine boxy smile that made his eyes scrunch up into half-moons. “Hi,” he added, his voice a rumble.

There was a beat. There was something lingering like a fleeting phantom smell you remembered when you were young reappearing again. Chasing after it only to lose it before you can discover what it was from. A thought escaping your brain just as you try to grasp onto it. A cliffhanger. Seeing him like this made her bones tingled with that feeling. Despite all her frustration of a ruined car windshield, despite her fear that she’d be reported for threat of violence, despite the fact she never went to parties (let alone with delinquent boys), she grasped his hand and gave it a shake, sealing her fate and agreeing to a party invite.

“Song Nari.”

---

Days later, Taehyung had caught her after math class – the math class they supposedly shared but she never saw him in. His hand caught her arm as he tugged her towards the lockers away from the outpour of students from other classes. He was close as he spoke, his person smelling like bubblegum and weed. He must run off to smoke during that class session.

He told her the details. It was going to be a casual party at his friends’ dad’s place this Friday. His dad was never there, so it was free reign. Nari did have the fluttering thought that this was a strange prank – one to humiliate or scare her. But the way Taehyung bounced lightly on the balls of his feet like an excited golden retriever reassured her a bit. His excitement plus her loneliness equated a bad decision as she began to type down the apartment address into her phone.

“Do I need to worry about spiked shit?” Nari partially joked – partially. She got the hint they weren’t always clever. Spiked punch at a party wouldn’t be a shocker, but it wasn’t welcomed for her.

“Nah, we already have weed, soju, cigarettes. No need to hide it or mix it into stuff,” he replied simply with a shrug, his thumb sliding over his beat up smart-phone’s screen. As if sensing her tentative nature – the way her breath caught for a moment too long as she glanced at him, Taehyung’s gaze rose to look at her. “It’ll be fun I promise.”

Genuineness. His dark almond eyes reflected genuineness in the shadows of the bustling hallway.

Weed, soju, and cigarettes. Not at all her scene. She’d probably have a drink ( she had drank once or twice – mostly, from her sister handing her a beer she couldn’t finish ). But that would be it. At this rate, she couldn’t say no… could she? Not when he smiled so brightly…

Gosh, what was wrong with her? These guys were obviously bad news. A different crowd. And here she was walking willingly into one of their houses. Taehyung’s boxy smile was to blame she reasoned. It felt too sweet sometimes it surprised her to remember when he literally illegally spray painted her car now. A mixture of emotions would clash when she recalled that after these encounters – especially after school as she stared through her rose-tinted windshield to return home.  

Finishing typing the address into her Notes app, Nari lightly nodded, biting down the uncertainty into the back of her mouth. Taehyung reached out to grab her phone from her hands. He swiped it with ease, making her eyes bulge.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, hands shooting outwards to grab it back – which he easily countered by raising the phone above his head; his height over her gave him an advantage. His brows raised and his eyes widened dramatically at her – challenging her like that night so many weeks ago before he rose his other arm up to type away on her phone. Tilting his jaw up, he watched the screen as he fended her off.

“Taehyung,” Nari grabbed at his arm, strong tendons flexed under her fingertips but he didn’t budge as he continued typing.

“There,” Taehyung said after a moment, a grin flashing onto his face.

Handing back her phone, Nari could see the screen relaying what he did shining bright back at her. His number was inputted in her contacts under the name “Taehyung-Oppa.” It made her snort.

“How old are you, again? You aren’t older than me, right?” he queried, leaning back against the beat-up forgotten lockers of the secluded hallway.

“You aren’t my oppa,” she laughed as she clicked on the contact and shifted the name to read “Just Taehyung.” Again, his brows twitched in a challenge before his grin burned brighter.

“When’s your birthday?” he prompted.

“August,” she replied. His confidence faltered a bit as he realized she was indeed his elder – but he wanted to be her elder. He couldn’t imagine calling her noona. Not when she was so cute and small and fiery.

Clearing his throat, he nodded his chin towards her phone, switching brainwaves. “Just in case you get lost,” Taehyung gave as an explanation for his number.

“Uh-huh,” Nari replied with a raised brow.

His own phone vibrated in his pocket, making him tug it free. Checking it out before letting out an exclamation of a ‘yeah!’

“I’ve got to go. Hyung got pizza,” Taehyung beamed. He really was like a golden retriever, getting this excited over food. He paused, pointing at her phone with a serious look suddenly.

“Text me,” he near commanded.

But then he was off, rushing into the slowly dissipating crowds of students in the hall. She watched as he rounded the stairwell, skipping every two steps as he went.

These boys always seemed to be running off as soon as they appeared. Nari sighed out, dragging a hand through her hair. Scratching at her scalp, she huffed again. A group of delinquents… and her. At a party.

It wasn’t what she pictured the day the blue-haired kid crept over to her table and asked if she was going to uphold her threat.

Was she stupid for wanting to go still?

Probably.

[leedee013]

Okay so I just finished FMA 03 for the first time! Then I went back and rewatched CoS because now it’d make sense, lmao

Overall, it was enjoyable! I’ve got a really long rant post in my drafts that I’ll publish eventually, once I get my thoughts organized.

I have a lot of problems with FMA 2003, mostly because I prefer the books (y’all, stop the 03 vs BH fighting and fucking read the goddamn books), but also because of some concerning images it paints of people cross dressing, its unnecessary sexualization of a lot more female characters, and the super weird and inconsistent way that alchemy’s handled in the show. HOWEVER, I genuinely LOVE the opening three episodes. They’re how I introduce people to FMA, and it never fails to snag people in. I also appreciate that 03 depicts the train heist and Youswell Mine chapters. And the fact that some of the filler episodes are just FUN. They don’t have much function, but goddamn did the good ones make me laugh.

(For clarity, I’m referring to the Flame vs Fullmetal episode wherein Ed fights Roy over cat custody and information and Hughes gets squashed by his own enormous poster of Elicia, and the Flame Alchemist episode that’s just Roy’s team dinking around and getting developed, or the one where Al is taken off the train accidentally and some kid steals him and Al convinced him that his armor will possess the kid... yeah, those are supreme)

Plus, Ed’s design... he looks so much more like he does in the manga in 03, and he’s a lot more vibrant! I prefer the 03 style design of Ed primarily, which is kind of important given that he’s one of the focal characters. I also appreciate the attention to detail for everything and how fluid all of the action scenes are, or even the small expressive details.

And as much as I love (LOVE) Brotherhood, I never introduce people to FMA with it. 03 initiation all the way, baabyy. The openings are also SO. GOOD. Melissa? Ready Steady Go? Rewrite? Bops.

I’m also so happy that we get more of Hughes in 03. And of Lust. Lust’s character in 2003 deserves her own movie I stg.

I feel like 2003 has so much wasted potential that it makes me legitimately mad, but I love its chaos and feral energy with my whole heart. The ending was absolutely bonkers, and CoS is so nonsensical, but I will never complain about being given this absolutely beautiful image:

More to come, but long story short: YES FMA 03 is worth watching, especially if you love the universe. If you’ve only ever seen Brotherhood, remember to keep an open mind throughout it. It sticks to the manga in a lot of ways that BH doesn’t, especially in the beginning. There are a few episodes I’d recommend skipping over, but overall it’s a great series in its own right and deserves some love, too.

[zorollade]

I am loving your conviction au! I’m looking forward to Emmet being like “I will be!!! A pokemon ranger!!!!” And everyone being like “…what’s that?” Lbr, Hisui really, really needs some pokemon rangers, lol.

Also looking forward to more Emmet and Ingo bonding. Correct me if I’m wrong but it looks like Akari and Emmet are on their way to being good friends too! They can moan about how there is no pizza in Hisui together.

im excited for emmet to accept his wild pokemon-wrangling destiny. its unreasonably comedic to me. ingo splitting early in the third chapter was actually unintentional, but it was literally the only way i could think of resolving that scene in a way that felt at all natural. sorry ingo... i prommy more brotherly bonding will happen in the future

idk how involved akari will be with the overall story. shes the protag of the game, so ofc she'll be appearing, but i havent decided if im going to follow the fanon interpretation of "akari also lost her memories/she is purposefully hiding the fact that she remembers things", so ive written her vague on purpose. i also briefly considered doing my own thing, where akari and rei are Dawn and Lucas, and they both arrived at the same time, but then i decided that for the sake of clarity in this au, i'll try to keep the changes submas-specific. or else ill just end up rewriting the entire game and at that point i could just make my own fan region

[sneek-m]

You Can (Not) Undo: A Look Back into Hikaru Utada's Songs for the Evangelion Rebuild Series

Originally published on Substack, as a feature of This Side of Japan issue #40.

Like its associated film, “One Last Kiss” starts with a recap to explain all that had transpired in the life of Hikaru Utada. “There was no such thing / as my first Louvre / I already met / my first Mona Lisa,” the awe-struck singer begins in the theme song for Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time. “The wheels started to turn / the day I first saw you / A premonition for loss that I couldn’t stop.” While her reminiscences provide a beautiful distraction, she ultimately can’t escape her fate where she must inevitably face the end.

The story of Neon Genesis Evangelion in the Rebuild movies looked more extravagant than its TV counterpart, revealing far grimmer scenarios over the course of four films made in the span of 14 years. But all of the new developments in the story couldn’t distract the series from leading to the same conclusion as the original—the end—and we, the audience, have to come to terms that it is now complete. “Shinji Ikari is a truly hopeless protagonist who seems to be cursed to play out his own undoing for all eternity in different realities from now until the end of time,” Willow Catelyn Maclay wrote on Mubi in 2019 about the three Rebuild movies. “It is Shinji Ikari’s fate to bear witness to the end of everything, and it is Hideaki Anno’s to tell this story again and again.”

Appropriate, then, for Utada to also be in the mood to look back for the final song in the Rebuild series. After a clean break, the singer reflects what she once had using her head as she does her heart—a privilege only earned when the experience sits at a far enough distance in hindsight. The production glows more muted and subdued perhaps than what one would imagine from a song in collaboration with A.G. Cook, but the idyllic prettiness befits the sober head space of Utada. She now resides at a place on the other side of the aftermath where she can confidently sing “I love you more than you’ll ever know” as an easy-to-hum refrain but also as an obvious truth.

Utada’s songs for the four Rebuild films now also stand as a complete series of sorts with the last film finally out, telling their own story of loss sometimes parallel to their attached films. The songs, too, are in conversation with one another, making sense of familiar catastrophes while haunted by the same ghosts. While the unwavering perspective of “One Last Kiss” is admirable on its own, it resonates more powerfully after witnessing Utada’s decade-long journey to settle on such steady ground.

Utada’s sense of peace and emotional clarity in “One Last Kiss” is already well-earned following a starker, more obvious process of grief. “Sakura Nagashi” from Evangelion: 3.0 You Can (Not) Redo finds the singer during the immediate stage of loss. And while the song also relies on reminiscences to bandage the pain like “One Last Kiss,” here the barren present is too imposing for memories to offer a sweet distraction. “I can’t believe it that I can’t see you ever again,” she cries out during the song’s guitar-squealing peak. “I haven’t told you anything yet.” So much is left unfinished while the world moves along without a care.

“Sakura Nagashi” is accompanied by the most forlorn ballad arrangement out of the three singles. While the other songs for the Rebuild films glowed with a warm, synth-led pulse, “Sakura Nagashi” is devoid of much besides Utada on an upright piano. The somber music befits a film that brought the harshest upset and destruction. During the first half of You Can (Not) Redo, Shinji Ikari bears witness to the irreversible damage he has brought to the world. He’s also shaken by the present timeline with once-familiar peers who he can no longer recognize. The first act is especially disorienting to reflect the perspective of Shinji, who can only cling on to the good things he once knew to keep moving forward.

After seeing the tragedy unfold in the later songs, it’s bittersweet returning to the fresh, wide-eyed perspective of “Beautiful World,” written when the Rebuild movies after Evangelion: 1.0 You Are (Not) Alone were yet to be made. The weightless R&B production sounds free from much of the burden plaguing the other two songs. Taken by its face, a lyric like “if I can have one wish / let me sleep next to you, it doesn’t matter where” sounds like a tender request in a soft teen-pop song and not one dedicated to a violent doomsday tale. The brooding concepts had yet to be in motion in the background of the songs, and deep loss had yet to color the lyrics into something more devastating and rooted in reality.

So when Utada revisits “Beautiful World” for Thrice Upon a Time, it adds new, powerful meanings to the old record. Titled the Da Capo version, the re-recording of the song for the first Rebuild film was commissioned to fill more time during the end credits roll. But Utada was also into the idea conceptually since the act of creating new material by revisiting the past lies at the core of the Rebuild movies.

As if inspired by You Can (Not) Redo, the new somber arrangement of the Da Capo version suggests the cruel effects of time with it containing hardly any traces of the original’s synth beats. The titular refrain arises from the void specter-like, and the rest of it floats as if in a vacuum. But while it sounds like a ghost of its former self, Utada holds as much faith, if not more in the future as she did almost 15 years ago. The original may have benefited in retrospect from her finding bliss in ignorance in the outcomes of both the beautiful world and the beautiful boy over the course of the series. But she sings here with reassured conviction, her wishes still echoing with optimism despite all she has experienced. “It’s only love,” she nonchalantly sighs, like of course she believes—it’s what unconditional love is about.

Fourteen years later, Utada isn’t free from the catastrophe of her past in “One Last Kiss” despite the rich perspectives gained. But her memories from the events now are less haunting ghosts than precious treasures to remind herself of all the good that existed. She knows she can’t undo all that already happened, knowing the story will reach the same conclusion no matter what. But it only inspires her to tell her own satisfied version of her story of love and loss. “Can you give me one last kiss / let’s have a kiss that’ll make us burn,” Utada asks in the chorus. She rewrites the end in a way she’d like to remember it. If she’s not pleased, she can always rebuild from scratch.