#my own former passions are lost to me but I most definitely remember people talking smack about you

[candiedcatnip]

The Dark Urge being able to succeed on History checks for recent events has the funniest implications depending on which ones you succeed. You may not be able to remember why you have a murderous little butler or why you want to eat humanoid flesh but you DO remember the latest hot patriar gossip.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I enjoyed reading your posts about Napoleon’s death and it’s quite timely given its the 200th anniversary of his death this year in May. I was wondering, because you know a lot about military history (your served right? That’s cool to fly combat helicopters) and you live in France but aren’t French, what your take was on Napoleon and how do the French view him? Do they hail him as a hero or do they like others see him like a Hitler or a Stalin? Do you see him as a hero or a villain of history?

5 May 1821 was a memorable date because Napoleon, one of the most iconic figures in world history, died while in bitter exile on a remote island in the South Atlantic Ocean. Napoleon Bonaparte, as you know rose from obscure soldier to a kind of new Caesar, and yet he remains a uniquely controversial figure to this day especially in France. You raise interesting questions about Napoleon and his legacy. If I may reframe your questions in another way. Should we think of him as a flawed but essentially heroic visionary who changed Europe for the better? Or was he simply a military dictator, whose cult of personality and lust for power set a template for the likes of Hitler? 

However one chooses to answer this question can we just - to get this out of the way - simply and definitively say that Napoleon was not Hitler. Not even close. No offence intended to you but this is just dumb ahistorical thinking and it’s a lazy lie. This comparison was made by some in the horrid aftermath of the Second World War but only held little currency for only a short time thereafter. Obviously that view didn’t exist before Hitler in the 19th Century and these days I don’t know any serious historian who takes that comparison seriously.

I confess I don’t have a definitive answer if he was a hero or a villain one way or the other because Napoleon has really left a very complicated legacy. It really depends on where you’re coming from.

As a staunch Brit I do take pride in Britain’s victorious war against Napoleonic France - and in a good natured way rubbing it in the noses of French friends at every opportunity I get because it’s in our cultural DNA and it’s bloody good fun (why else would we make Waterloo train station the London terminus of the Eurostar international rail service from its opening in 1994? Or why hang a huge gilded portrait of the Duke of Wellington as the first thing that greets any visitor to the residence of the British ambassador at the British Embassy?). On a personal level I take special pride in knowing my family ancestors did their bit on the battlefield to fight against Napoleon during those tumultuous times. However, as an ex-combat veteran who studied Napoleonic warfare with fan girl enthusiasm, I have huge respect for Napoleon as a brilliant military commander. And to makes things more weird, as a Francophile resident of who loves living and working in France (and my partner is French) I have a grudging but growing regard for Napoleon’s political and cultural legacy, especially when I consider the current dross of political mediocrity on both the political left and the right. So for me it’s a complicated issue how I feel about Napoleon, the man, the soldier, and the political leader.

If it’s not so straightforward for me to answer the for/against Napoleon question then it It’s especially true for the French, who even after 200 years, still have fiercely divided opinions about Napoleon and his legacy - but intriguingly, not always in clear cut ways.

I only have to think about my French neighbours in my apartment building to see how divisive Napoleon the man and his legacy is. Over the past year or so of the Covid lockdown we’ve all gotten to know each other better and we help each other. Over the Covid year we’ve gathered in the inner courtyard for a buffet and just lifted each other spirits up.

One of my neighbours, a crusty old ex-general in the army who has an enviable collection of military history books that I steal, liberate, borrow, often discuss military figures in history like Napoleon over our regular games of chess and a glass of wine. He is from very old aristocracy of the ancien regime and whose family suffered at the hands of ‘madame guillotine’ during the French Revolution. They lost everything. He has mixed emotions about Napoleon himself as an old fashioned monarchist. As a military man he naturally admires the man and the military genius but he despises the secularisation that the French Revolution ushered in as well as the rise of the haute bourgeois as middle managers and bureaucrats by the displacement of the aristocracy.

Another retired widowed neighbour I am close to, and with whom I cook with often and discuss art, is an active arts patron and ex-art gallery owner from a very wealthy family that came from the new Napoleonic aristocracy - ie the aristocracy of the Napoleonic era that Napoleon put in place - but she is dismissive of such titles and baubles. She’s a staunch Republican but is happy to concede she is grateful for Napoleon in bringing order out of chaos. She recognises her own ambivalence when she says she dislikes him for reintroducing slavery in the French colonies but also praises him for firmly supporting Paris’s famed Comédie-Française of which she was a past patron.

Another French neighbour, a senior civil servant in the Elysée, is quite dismissive of Napoleon as a war monger but is grudgingly grateful for civil institutions and schools that Napoleon established and which remain in place today.

My other neighbours - whether they be French families or foreign expats like myself - have similarly divisive and complicated attitudes towards Napoleon.

In 2010 an opinion poll in France asked who was the most important man in French history. Napoleon came second, behind General Charles de Gaulle, who led France from exile during the German occupation in World War II and served as a postwar president.

The split in French opinion is closely mirrored in political circles. The divide is generally down political party lines. On the left, there's the 'black legend' of Bonaparte as an ogre. On the right, there is the 'golden legend' of a strong leader who created durable institutions.

Jacques-Olivier Boudon, a history professor at Paris-Sorbonne University and president of the Napoléon Institute, once explained at a talk I attended that French public opinion has always remained deeply divided over Napoleon, with, on the one hand, those who admire the great man, the conqueror, the military leader and, on the other, those who see him as a bloodthirsty tyrant, the gravedigger of the revolution. Politicians in France, Boudon observed, rarely refer to Napoleon for fear of being accused of authoritarian temptations, or not being good Republicans.

On the left-wing of French politics, former prime minister Lionel Jospin penned a controversial best selling book entitled “the Napoleonic Evil” in which he accused the emperor of “perverting the ideas of the Revolution” and imposing “a form of extreme domination”, “despotism” and “a police state” on the French people. He wrote Napoleon was "an obvious failure" - bad for France and the rest of Europe. When he was booted out into final exile, France was isolated, beaten, occupied, dominated, hated and smaller than before. What's more, Napoleon smothered the forces of emancipation awakened by the French and American revolutions and enabled the survival and restoration of monarchies. Some of the legacies with which Napoleon is credited, including the Civil Code, the comprehensive legal system replacing a hodgepodge of feudal laws, were proposed during the revolution, Jospin argued, though he acknowledges that Napoleon actually delivered them, but up to a point, "He guaranteed some principles of the revolution and, at the same time, changed its course, finished it and betrayed it," For instance, Napoleon reintroduced slavery in French colonies, revived a system that allowed the rich to dodge conscription in the military and did nothing to advance gender equality.

At the other end of the spectrum have been former right-wing prime minister Dominique de Villepin, an aristocrat who was once fancied as a future President, a passionate collector of Napoleonic memorabilia, and author of several works on the subject. As a Napoleonic enthusiast he tells a different story. Napoleon was a saviour of France. If there had been no Napoleon, the Republic would not have survived. Advocates like de Villepin point to Napoleon’s undoubted achievements: the Civil Code, the Council of State, the Bank of France, the National Audit office, a centralised and coherent administrative system, lycées, universities, centres of advanced learning known as école normale, chambers of commerce, the metric system, and an honours system based on merit (which France has to this day). He restored the Catholic faith as the state faith but allowed for the freedom of religion for other faiths including Protestantism and Judaism. These were ambitions unachieved during the chaos of the revolution. As it is, these Napoleonic institutions continue to function and underpin French society. Indeed, many were copied in countries conquered by Napoleon, such as Italy, Germany and Poland, and laid the foundations for the modern state.

Back in 2014, French politicians and institutions in particular were nervous in marking the 200th anniversary of Napoleon's exile. My neighbours and other French friends remember that the commemorations centred around the Chateau de Fontainebleau, the traditional home of the kings of France and was the scene where Napoleon said farewell to the Old Guard in the "White Horse Courtyard" (la cour du Cheval Blanc) at the Palace of Fontainebleau. (The courtyard has since been renamed the "Courtyard of Goodbyes".) By all accounts the occasion was very moving. The 1814 Treaty of Fontainebleau stripped Napoleon of his powers (but not his title as Emperor of the French) and sent him into exile on Elba. The cost of the Fontainebleau "farewell" and scores of related events over those three weekends was shouldered not by the central government in Paris but by the local château, a historic monument and UNESCO World Heritage site, and the town of Fontainebleau.

While the 200th anniversary of the French Revolution that toppled the monarchy and delivered thousands to death by guillotine was officially celebrated in 1989, Napoleonic anniversaries are neither officially marked nor celebrated. For example, over a decade ago, the president and prime minister - at the time, Jacques Chirac and Dominque de Villepin - boycotted a ceremony marking the 200th anniversary of the battle of Austerlitz, Napoleon's greatest military victory. Both men were known admirers of Napoleon and yet political calculation and optics (as media spin doctors say) stopped them from fully honouring Napoleon’s crowning military glory.

Optics is everything. The division of opinion in France is perhaps best reflected in the fact that, in a city not shy of naming squares and streets after historical figures, there is not a single “Boulevard Napoleon” or “Place Napoleon” in Paris. On the streets of Paris, there are just two statues of Napoleon. One stands beneath the clock tower at Les Invalides (a military hospital), the other atop a column in the Place Vendôme. Napoleon's red marble tomb, in a crypt under the Invalides dome, is magnificent, perhaps because his remains were interred there during France's Second Empire, when his nephew, Napoleon III, was on the throne.

There are no squares, nor places, nor boulevards named for Napoleon but as far as I know there is one narrow street, the rue Bonaparte, running from the Luxembourg Gardens to the River Seine in the old Latin Quarter. And, that, too, is thanks to Napoleon III. For many, and I include myself, it’s a poor return by the city to the man who commissioned some of its most famous monuments, including the Arc de Triomphe and the Pont des Arts over the River Seine.

It's almost as if Napoleon Bonaparte is not part of the national story.

How Napoleon fits into that national story is something historians, French and non-French, have been grappling with ever since Napoleon died. The plain fact is Napoleon divides historians, what precisely he represents is deeply ambiguous and his political character is the subject of heated controversy. It’s hard for historians to sift through archival documents to make informed judgements and still struggle to separate the man from the myth.

One proof of this myth is in his immortality. After Hitler’s death, there was mostly an embarrassed silence; after Stalin’s, little but denunciation. But when Napoleon died on St Helena in 1821, much of Europe and the Americas could not help thinking of itself as a post-Napoleonic generation. His presence haunts the pages of Stendhal and Alfred de Vigny. In a striking and prescient phrase, Chateaubriand prophesied the “despotism of his memory”, a despotism of the fantastical that in many ways made Romanticism possible and that continues to this day.

The raw material for the future Napoleon myth was provided by one of his St Helena confidants, the Comte de las Cases, whose account of conversations with the great man came out shortly after his death and ran in repeated editions throughout the century. De las Cases somehow metamorphosed the erstwhile dictator into a herald of liberty, the emperor into a slayer of dynasties rather than the founder of his own. To the “great man” school of history Napoleon was grist to their mill, and his meteoric rise redefined the meaning of heroism in the modern world.

The Marxists, for all their dislike of great men, grappled endlessly with the meaning of the 18th Brumaire; indeed one of France’s most eminent Marxist historians, George Lefebvre, wrote what arguably remains the finest of all biographies of him.

It was on this already vast Napoleon literature, a rich terrain for the scholar of ideas, that the great Dutch historian Pieter Geyl was lecturing in 1940 when he was arrested and sent to Buchenwald. There he composed what became one of the classics of historiography, a seminal book entitled Napoleon: For and Against, which charted how generations of intellectuals had happily served up one Napoleon after another. Like those poor souls who crowded the lunatic asylums of mid-19th century France convinced that they were Napoleon, generations of historians and novelists simply could not get him out of their head.

The debate runs on today no less intensely than in the past. Post-Second World War Marxists would argue that he was not, in fact, revolutionary at all. Eric Hobsbawm, a notable British Marxist historian, argued that ‘Most-perhaps all- of his ideas were anticipated by the Revolution’ and that Napoleon’s sole legacy was to twist the ideals of the French Revolution, and make them ‘more conservative, hierarchical and authoritarian’.

This contrasts deeply with the view William Doyle holds of Napoleon. Doyle described Bonaparte as ‘the Revolution incarnate’ and saw Bonaparte’s humbling of Europe’s other powers, the ‘Ancien Regimes’, as a necessary precondition for the birth of the modern world. Whatever one thinks of Napoleon’s character, his sharp intellect is difficult to deny. Even Paul Schroeder, one of Napoleon’s most scathing critics, who condemned his conduct of foreign policy as a ‘criminal enterprise’ never denied Napoleon’s intellect. Schroder concluded that Bonaparte ‘had an extraordinary capacity for planning, decision making, memory, work, mastery of detail and leadership’.  The question of whether Napoleon used his genius for the betterment or the detriment of the world, is the heart of the debate which surrounds him.

France's foremost Napoleonic scholar, Jean Tulard, put forward the thesis that Bonaparte was the architect of modern France. "And I would say also pâtissier [a cake and pastry maker] because of the administrative millefeuille that we inherited." Oddly enough, in North America the multilayered mille-feuille cake is called ‘a napoleon.’ Tulard’s works are essential reading of how French historians have come to tackle the question of Napoleon’s legacy. He takes the view that if Napoleon had not crushed a Royalist rebellion and seized power in 1799, the French monarchy and feudalism would have returned, Tulard has written. "Like Cincinnatus in ancient Rome, Napoleon wanted a dictatorship of public salvation. He gets all the power, and, when the project is finished, he returns to his plough." In the event, the old order was never restored in France. When Louis XVIII became emperor in 1814, he served as a constitutional monarch.

In England, until recently the views on Napoleon have traditionally less charitable and more cynical. Professor Christopher Clark, the notable Cambridge University European historian, has written. "Napoleon was not a French patriot - he was first a Corsican and later an imperial figure, a journey in which he bypassed any deep affiliation with the French nation," Clark believed Napoleon’s relationship with the French Revolution is deeply ambivalent.

Did he stabilise the revolutionary state or shut it down mercilessly? Clark believes Napoleon seems to have done both. Napoleon rejected democracy, he suffocated the representative dimension of politics, and he created a culture of courtly display. A month before crowning himself emperor, Napoleon sought approval for establishing an empire from the French in a plebiscite; 3,572,329 voted in favour, 2,567 against. If that landslide resembles an election in North Korea, well, this was no secret ballot. Each ‘yes’ or ‘no’ was recorded, along with the name and address of the voter. Evidently, an overwhelming majority knew which side their baguette was buttered on.

His extravagant coronation in Notre Dame in December 1804 cost 8.5 million francs (€6.5 million or $8.5 million in today's money). He made his brothers, sisters and stepchildren kings, queens, princes and princesses and created a Napoleonic aristocracy numbering 3,500. By any measure, it was a bizarre progression for someone often described as ‘a child of the Revolution.’ By crowning himself emperor, the genuine European kings who surrounded him were not convinced. Always a warrior first, he tried to represent himself as a Caesar, and he wears a Roman toga on the bas-reliefs in his tomb. His coronation crown, a laurel wreath made of gold, sent the same message. His icon, the eagle, was also borrowed from Rome. But Caesar's legitimacy depended on military victories. Ultimately, Napoleon suffered too many defeats.

These days Napoleon the man and his times remain very much in fashion and we are living through something of a new golden age of Napoleonic literature. Those historians who over the past decade or so have had fun denouncing him as the first totalitarian dictator seem to have it all wrong: no angel, to be sure, he ended up doing far more at far less cost than any modern despot. In his widely praised 2014 biography, Napoleon the Great, Andrew Roberts writes: “The ideas that underpin our modern world - meritocracy, equality before the law, property rights, religious toleration, modern secular education, sound finances, and so on - were championed, consolidated, codified and geographically extended by Napoleon. To them he added a rational and efficient local administration, an end to rural banditry, the encouragement of science and the arts, the abolition of feudalism and the greatest codification of laws since the fall of the Roman empire.”

Roberts partly bases his historical judgement on newly released historical documents about Napoleon that were only available in the past decade and has proved to be a boon for all Napoleonic scholars. Newly released 33,000 letters Napoleon wrote that still survive are now used extensively to illustrate the astonishing capacity that Napoleon had for compartmentalising his mind - he laid down the rules for a girls’ boarding school on the eve of the battle of Borodino, for example, and the regulations for Paris’s Comédie-Française while camped in the Kremlin. They also show Napoleon’s extraordinary capacity for micromanaging his empire: he would write to the prefect of Genoa telling him not to allow his mistress into his box at the theatre, and to a corporal of the 13th Line regiment warning him not to drink so much.

For me to have my own perspective on Napoleon is tough. The problem is that nothing with Napoleon is simple, and almost every aspect of his personality is a maddening paradox. He was a military genius who led disastrous campaigns. He was a liberal progressive who reinstated slavery in the French colonies. And take the French Revolution, which came just before Napoleon’s rise to power, his relationship with the French Revolution is deeply ambivalent. Did he stabilise it or shut it down? I agree with those British and French historians who now believe Napoleon seems to have done both.

On the one hand, Napoleon did bring order to a nation that had been drenched in blood in the years after the Revolution. The French people had endured the crackdown known as the 'Reign of Terror', which saw so many marched to the guillotine, as well as political instability, corruption, riots and general violence. Napoleon’s iron will managed to calm the chaos. But he also rubbished some of the core principles of the Revolution. A nation which had boldly brought down the monarchy had to watch as Napoleon crowned himself Emperor, with more power and pageantry than Louis XVI ever had. He also installed his relatives as royals across Europe, creating a new aristocracy. In the words of French politician and author Lionel Jospin, 'He guaranteed some principles of the Revolution and at the same time, changed its course, finished it and betrayed it.'

He also had a feared henchman in the form of Joseph Fouché, who ran a secret police network which instilled dread in the population. Napoleon’s spies were everywhere, stifling political opposition. Dozens of newspapers were suppressed or shut down. Books had to be submitted for approval to the Commission of Revision, which sounds like something straight out of George Orwell. Some would argue Hitler and Stalin followed this playbook perfectly. But here come the contradictions. Napoleon also championed education for all, founding a network of schools. He championed the rights of the Jews. In the territories conquered by Napoleon, laws which kept Jews cooped up in ghettos were abolished. 'I will never accept any proposals that will obligate the Jewish people to leave France,' he once said, 'because to me the Jews are the same as any other citizen in our country.'

He also, crucially, developed the Napoleonic Code, a set of laws which replaced the messy, outdated feudal laws that had been used before. The Napoleonic Code clearly laid out civil laws and due processes, establishing a society based on merit and hard work, rather than privilege. It was rolled out far beyond France, and indisputably helped to modernise Europe. While it certainly had its flaws – women were ignored by its reforms, and were essentially regarded as the property of men – the Napoleonic Code is often brandished as the key evidence for Napoleon’s progressive credentials. In the words of historian Andrew Roberts, author of Napoleon the Great, 'the ideas that underpin our modern world… were championed by Napoleon'.

What about Napoleon’s battlefield exploits? If anything earns comparisons with Hitler, it’s Bonaparte’s apparent appetite for conquest. His forces tore down republics across Europe, and plundered works of art, much like the Nazis would later do. A rampant imperialist, Napoleon gleefully grabbed some of the greatest masterpieces of the Renaissance, and allegedly boasted, 'the whole of Rome is in Paris.'

Napoleon has long enjoyed a stellar reputation as a field commander – his capacities as a military strategist, his ability to read a battle, the painstaking detail with which he made sure that he cold muster a larger force than his adversary or took maximum advantage of the lie of the land – these are stuff of the military legend that has built up around him. It is not without its critics, of course, especially among those who have worked intensively on the later imperial campaigns, in the Peninsula, in Russia, or in the final days of the Empire at Waterloo.

Doubts about his judgment, and allegations of rashness, have been raised in the context of some of his victories, too, most notably, perhaps, at Marengo. But overall his reputation remains largely intact, and his military campaigns have been taught in the curricula of military academies from Saint-Cyr to Sandhurst, alongside such great tacticians as Alexander the Great and Hannibal.

Historians may query his own immodest opinion that his presence on the battlefield was worth an extra forty thousand men to his cause, but it is clear that when he was not present (as he was not for most of the campaign in Spain) the French were wont to struggle. Napoleon understood the value of speed and surprise, but also of structures and loyalties. He reformed the army by introducing the corps system, and he understood military aspirations, rewarding his men with medals and honours; all of which helped ensure that he commanded exceptional levels of personal loyalty from his troops.

Yet, I do find it hard to side with the more staunch defenders of Napoleon who say his reputation as a war monger is to some extent due to British propaganda at the time. They will point out that the Napoleonic Wars, far from being Napoleon’s fault, were just a continuation of previous conflicts that arose thanks to the French Revolution. Napoleon, according to this analysis, inherited a messy situation, and his only real crime was to be very good at defeating enemies on the battlefield. I think that is really pushing things too far. I mean deciding to invade Spain and then Russia were his decisions to invade and conquer.

He was, by any measure, a genius of war. Even his nemesis the Duke of Wellington, when asked who the greatest general of his time was, replied: 'In this age, in past ages, in any age, Napoleon.'

I will qualify all this and agree that Napoleon’s Russian campaign has been rightly held up as a fatal folly which killed so many of his men, but this blunder – epic as it was – should not be compared to Hitler’s wars of evil aggression. Most historians will agree that comparing the two men is horribly flattering to Hitler - a man fuelled by visceral, genocidal hate - and demeaning to Napoleon, who was a product of Enlightenment thinking and left a legacy that in many ways improved Europe.

Napoleon was, of course, no libertarian, and no pluralist. He would tolerate no opposition to his rule, and though it was politicians and civilians who imposed his reforms, the army was never far behind. But comparisons with twentieth-century dictators are well wide of the mark. While he insisted on obedience from those he administered, his ideology was based not on division or hatred, but on administrative efficiency and submission to the law. And the state he believed in remained stubbornly secular.

In Catholic southern Europe, of course, that was not an approach with which it was easy to acquiesce; and disorder, insurgency and partisan attacks can all be counted among the results. But these were principles on which the Emperor would not and could not give ground. If he had beliefs they were not religious or spiritual beliefs, but the secular creed of a man who never forgot that he owed both his military career and his meteoric political rise to the French Revolution, and who never quite abandoned, amidst the monarchical symbolism and the court pomp of the Empire, the republican dreams of his youth. When he claimed, somewhat ambiguously, after the coup of 18 Brumaire that `the Revolution was over’, he almost certainly meant that the principles of 1789 had at last been consummated, and that the continuous cycle of violence of the 1790s could therefore come to an end.

When the Empire was declared in 1804, the wording, again, might seem curious, the French being informed that the `Republic would henceforth be ruled by an Emperor’. Napoleon might be a dictator, but a part at least of him remained a son of the Enlightenment.

The arguments over Napoleon’s status will continue - and that in itself is a testament to the power of one of the most complex figures ever to straddle the world’s stage.

Will the fascination with Napoleon continue for another 200 years?

In France, at least, enthusiasm looks set to diminish. Napoleon and his exploits are scarcely mentioned in French schools anymore. Stéphane Guégan, curator of the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, which, among other First Empire artworks, houses a plaster model of Napoleon dressed as a Roman emperor astride a horse, has described France's fascination with him as ‘a national illness.’ He believes that the people who met him were fascinated by his charm. And today, even the most hostile to Napoleon also face this charm. So there is a difficulty to apprehend the duality of this character. As he wrote, “He was born from the revolution, he extended and finished it, and after 1804 he turns into a despot, a dictator.”

In France, Guégan aptly observes, there is a kind of nostalgia, not for dictatorship but for strong leaders. "Our age is suffering a lack of imagination and political utopia,"

Here I think Guégan is onto something. Napoleon’s stock has always risen or fallen according to the vicissitudes of world events and fortunes of France itself.

In the past, history was the study of great men and women. Today the focus of teaching is on trends, issues and movements. France in 1800 is no longer about Louis XVI and Napoleon Bonaparte. It's about the industrial revolution. Man does not make history. History makes men. Or does it? The study of history makes a mug out of those with such simple ideological driven conceits.

For two hundred years on, the French still cannot agree on whether Napoleon was a hero or a villain as he has swung like a pendulum according to the gravitational pull of historical events and forces.

The question I keep asking of myself and also to French friends with whom I discuss such things is what kind of Napoleon does our generation need?

Thanks for your question.

[365days365movies]

January 12, 2021: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) (Part 1)

Hey, uh...

I can’t remember if I’ve seen this movie or not.

OK, HEAR ME OUT HERE. I was 9 years old when this movie came out in the USA, and I vividly remember the buzz around this movie when it came out in theaters. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, for those of you who don’t know, is the movie that really introduced wuxia to the United States in the modern century. Directed by Ang Lee - y’know, this guy...

...buuuuuuuuuut, also this guy...

AND YET, still this guy...

- this movie has won a HELL of a lot of awards, and was the critical darling of 2000. And again, I know some of you Tumblrites (goddamn Zoomers DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER NICKELODEON ORANGE AS A COLOR??? Kidding, by the way, y’all are cool) may not be old enough to remember that time, but lemme tell you: this movie was a Mandarin-language movie nominated for Best Picture. Not just Best Foreign Language Film (which it WON), but BEST. PICTURE. Trust me. It was a big deal at the time. 

The film actually did win Best Original Score, Best Art Direction, and Best Cinematography. And as I watch this, I’m going to be remembering both the time period it came out in, and the film that actually won Best Picture that year. What won Best Picture that year, you ask? Well...

Yeah. But is CTHD better or worse than Gladiator? Well, that’s what I’m gonna try to figure out, as well as whether or not 9-year-old me saw this movie already. I don’t think so, so that’s why I’m watching it now. 

So LET’S GO BACK TO THE YEAR 2000, PEOPLE! We just got over that whole Y2K thing (only for the ILOVEYOU virus to pop up), the election was TOTALLY NORMAL (that’s a joke, it...it was not), AOL was the most successful internet company ever (HA! Classic. And Ask Jeeves is gonna last forever, I’m sure), and the below movie would win Best Makeup at the Oscars.

Yeah. Yeah, that’s an Academy Award-winning movie. How the hell does THAT make you feel? Makes me feel conflicted, I tell you what. ANYWAY MOVIE TIME SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Li Mu Bai (Chow Yun Fat, the man himself), a member of the Wudang sect of swordsmen, is retiring. He goes to his old friend (and maybe more), and leader of a private security group, Yu Shu Lien (Michelle Yeoh), who asks her to deliver his personal sword, Green Destiny. Shu Lien goes to Beijing to deliver the sword to an ally of theirs, Sir Te (Sihung Lung), while Mu Bai goes to the grave of his master, who was killed by an assassin named Jade Fox.

In Beijing, Sir Te and Shu Lien talk about the whole “more than friends” thing between her and Mu Bai, and they go to store the sword in a study. There, Sir Te’s granddaughter, Jen (Zhang Ziyi), speaks to Shu Lien about the sword, and about the nature of swordsmanship. This serves an introduction into the world of wuxia swordmanship...and I am GODDAMN HOOKED IN

So is Jen, it would seem, as she speaks with admiration about the freedom that comes with the Way of the Sword (which is distinctly different from the Way of Sarah (Blessed Be Her Fall)). See, Jen’s about to get married, in that arranged way, and she’s not a fan of the whole marriage thing. I get the feeling that she’s planning on doing something about that.

But no time for existential crises now! Someone’s trying to steal Green Destiny! A ninja sneaks in and succeeds in stealing it, but Shu Lien attempts to stop them. However, the thief is trained in Wudan, much to Shu Lien’s surprise. A rooftop chase occurs, giving us the first display of the rampant wire work and loose physics characteristic of this genre, and GODDAMN IT FUCK YE-NO

Keep it together, man, you gotta treat this film critically and seriously, not like an excited little kid watch some kickass martial arts shit. Even though this fight scene is AWESOME, holy shit...

The thief succeeds, but only because a second assailant appears with a dart, distracting Shu Lien. In the morning, the night guard says it was someone from Governor Yu’s household. In the street, the attacker is believed to be the mysterious Jade Fox, who would covet the sword of the man she killed so long ago. Ugh, this movie already rules so hard. Anyway, Shu Lien comes to see Jen again, who’s currently writing calligraphy.

Shu Lien comments that calligraphy writing is similar to swordsmanship. Jen quickly notes that she wouldn’t know. She expounds again on her regrets on marriage, and Shu Lien explains that she was engaged to a fellow swordsman who died. And although Shu Lien and Li Mu Bai love each other, they both feel bound to their fallen friend, and do not act on their feelings. Oh my God, I’m digging this fated romance shit SO HARD

NO. Professionalism. Breathe...focus on the year 2000...Napster...Survivor and Fear Factor...Harry Potter...Pokemon the Movie 2000...Pokemon the Movie 2000: The Power of One...

...Whew. OK. Back to CTHD.

Jen rests in her home, while two people spy on the...Yus. Wait, Jen’s name is...Yu Jen. Um...it’s her. The ninja is Jen. You couldn’t see it in the GIFS, but the ninja could easily be a woman, no question. It’s totally Jen, acting on her desire to be a true swordsperson. I mean, look at her stare at that sword earlier in the movie. Calling it now, it’s her. But...who threw the dart from the rooftop?

Looks like it’s Jade Fox, as a man from earlier explains. See, he’s a police chief from another area, looking for Jade Fox. He believes that she’s somehow infiltrated the Yu household, possibly arriving with them to Beijing. Jade Fox killed the policeman’s wife, making this personal. Together, the policeman Tsai (Wang Deming) and the Night Guard Bo (Gao Xi’an) team up to find her.

They aren’t the only ones, as Li Mu Bai just arrived to Beijing to talk with Shu Lien, and finds out that Jade Fox ha returned. Remember, Jade Fox killed his master, so he has some stakes in this. Meanwhile that night, Tsai and Bo (Team Law) meet Jade Fox, AKA...Jen’s governess! NICE.

Jade Fox (Cheng Pei-pei) fights the...wait...wait WHAT DID I JUST TYPE???

CHENG PEI-PEI FROM COME DRINK WITH ME IS THE VILLAIN OF THIS MOVIE???

And now Chow Yun Fat is fighting one of the first wuxia film stars? OH MY GOD

Chow Yun Fat’s about to kill her to avenge his master, and then the mysterious ninja (AKA probably Yu Jen) saves her from him. The two of them fight, and Jade Fox kills Tsai just before they escape using a streamer HOOOOOOOO IT’S REAL HARD STAYING PROFESSIONAL RIGHT NOW

The next morning, though, Yu Jen learns more about Jade’s crimes, and expresses guilt about taking Green Destiny. Additionally, Shu Lien claims to know who the culprit is, and threatens them with punishment unless the sword is returned. Essentially confirming my suspicions, the ninja returns that night to put the sword back, and Mu Bai is waiting there for her.

Yet another physics-defying rooftop chase occurs, although this one is less frought. They actually refer to the gliding technique as “flying,” and as a technique of Wudan. Interesting, engaging, cinematical, movielian, I love it. I need more of it, MORE PLEASE.

Looks like I might get what I want. Mu Bai offers to be Jen’s teacher, as he sees great potential in her. But she shuns the ways of Wudan, allows Mu Bai to take back Green Destiny, and returns to Jade Fox. Jade Fox is trained as a Giang Hu fighter, a more brutal lifestyle. 

And yet, Jen isn’t really into that either. Turns out that she’s been studying the Wudan manual on her own, and has EFFORTLESSLY surpassed her illiterate former master. With nothing left to teach her, Jade Fox leaves with a veiled threat.

The next night, a man visits Jen, and they embrace passionately. He’s a bandit from the Gobi Desert named Lo, AKA Dark Cloud (Chang Chen), and the two met when his gang ambushed her caravan travelling through the desert. He stle her comb, and this girl just GETS ON A HORSE, GRABS A BOW AND ARROW, and HUNTS HIM DOWN LIKE A DOG FOR THAT COMB. She faces down the gang of bandits, and Dark Cloud leads her away, gives her water, and she KICKS HIS ASS!! But she asses out from exhaustion, and he takes her back to his Cave of Wonders.

He cares for her, and as soon as she regains her strength, she just knocks him out. Cold-blooded, goddamn. But she gets lost in the desert, and passes out again. Lo brings her BACK to the Cave of Wonders, and cares for her AGAIN. My dude is a PRINCE. I mean, he’s a thief and probably a murderer, and definitely a bad person, BUT NEVER MIND THAT FOR NOW.

As you probably guessed, Stockholm/Lima Syndromes set in, and the two fall in love...like you do?

But Jen’s nobleman father is looing for her, making trouble for Lo and his people. He vows to go legit and make himself worthy for her love in her father’s eyes. He tells a story of a boy who leapt off a mountain to save his parents. A literal leap of faith. In their last night together, she gives him the comb that brought them together, saying to give it back when they’re together again.

But now...Jen’s fated to marry, and it can’t be avoided. Lo gives the comb back to her, as she tells him to leave. And I...I need a break. If I don’t take a five minute break, Imma explode from how much I love this goddamn movie.

PART 2 COMING IN A FEW!!!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #383

“the big bully try to stick his finger in my chest  /  try to tell me, tell me he’s the best  /  i don’t really give a good goddamn ‘cuz i got my lunchbox & i’m armed real well”

Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them? Well yeah. Most of my friends are online, and while I've seen pictures of most at least once or twice, some I still haven't. The last time you threw up, what caused it? It was a side effect of a mood stabilizer I started. Any foods from other countries you would like to try but haven’t yet? I'm sure there's something, idk. Do you think the world would be more peaceful without any religion? Yes. Have you ever had a stalker? No. Does it hurt your feelings when people talk shit about things you love? It makes me self-conscious way more than anything. I start to obsess over whether or not the person things poorly or weirdly of me for liking what I like. I just feel judged for liking it, but that's my problem. Do you like it when people give you nicknames? I do, actually. It feels kinda affectionate to me. Do you often find yourself checking out people’s butts? Haha I'm not gonna say it's never happened, but it's not something I make a habit out of for sure. What fandoms are you in? MEERKAT MANOR IS BACK BAYBEEEE, Markiplier, Silent Hill, Shadow of the Colossus, World of Warcraft, Spyro, Wings of Fire, and lots more, honestly. I'm into a lot of stuff, and I don't love in moderation, haha. Are there any fandoms you used to be in, but left? Yeah, like Supernatural, Good Mythical Morning, or Warriors, but it wasn't out of "I don't like it anymore" or anything, I just drifted away. Anything the fans in your fandoms do that pisses you off? World of Warcraft if particular has one of the most toxic fucking fanbases. There are so many goddamn elitists and people who whine about "boohoo WoW is dying" and "omg this game has been trash since Wrath" and yada yada yada and it's annoying as hell. They always find some shit to complain about. Then Silent Hill... ugh. I think people just hop onto the "the series sux after 1-4" bandwagon to fit in with a certain crowd, but that's not the main thing that annoys me; rather, it's the fact the former main admin of the SH wiki made a fucking joke out of us there. He was clearly having personal issues and made a HUGE and utterly ridiculous deal of Silent Hill 4 having heavy symbolism to the main character being obsessed with the bullshit idea of him being circumcised, and it led to a maaaassive thread of us members trying to talk some damn sense into him as he abused his power. He was finally banned by the Wikia staff, but not in time for some gaming websites to publish "news" stories about it because it was just that ludicrous. Now, YEARS later, we still get trolls coming onto the site to try and revive the drama by inserting absolute rubbish into pages or making new ones. Nowadays I'm the main administrator there, and it's fucking embarrassing sometimes. I'm supposed to keep the wiki under control and respected, you know? Ugh, I'll stop. I could rant for a very long time about this. Do you prefer ruffly or regular potato chips? Ruffly. Do you write down your own recipes, or just commit them to memory? I don’t cook. What color do you want to dye your hair? My top three are pastel pink, lilac, and a light creamsicle orange. I REALLY want to dye it SOMETHING. :( How do you like your chicken? Of course breaded (like nuggets, tenders) is my favorite, but I also enjoy is broiled and seasoned well. There's other ways, but because I don't cook, I, uh... don't know how a lot are made lmao. Do you enjoy cheese fries? UUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH YES. Do you eat refried beans? I absolutely hate beans, so no. What is a food you enjoy, but don’t have very often? A whole lot because a lot of it is from restaurants and we don't eat out all that much. As well, my diet is very narrow just because of how picky I am. Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn? Why? I mean, what are we comparing them for? I think Audrey is fucking gorgeous, though. Marilyn is also beautiful. Favorite fictional world? Uh, I dunno. Do you use lint rollers often? No. Do you carry pepper spray? No, but I want to. Has your power ever gone out for more than a day? I think so. Other than a dislike button, what’s something you wish Facebook had? Hm, I dunno. What time do your parents normally get home from work? Mom can't work right now, but I think Dad gets off around 5PM. Are you afraid to ask people out on dates? Yep. Do you think it’s better to look for love or let it find you? Both can work, but I definitely prefer to let it find me. I feel that *in general* that usually has better results. Have you ever found yourself worrying about commitment? No. I'm a very committed person romantically. Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? No. Have you ever had a rash from poison ivy? I don't believe so, no. Do you have any chairs in your bedroom? No. Did you watch Elmo as a child? Some, yeah. Do you know anyone who doesn’t eat meat? I don't think so, off the top of my head. When you throw up, do you cry? No, but I'm a whiner and will also shake from fear because I have such a phobia of vomiting. Doing it totally turns me into a baby. Who was the last person to carry you? I couldn't tell you the last person to full-on carry me, but back when I tore a ligament in my foot, my mom kinda had me lifted when she would help me walk. Is it easy for you to accept loss? Absolutely not. I handle it very, very poorly. Have you done anything sneaky lately? No. Have you ever had a rolling back pack? Yes. Who knows you better than anyone else? My mom, probably. Would you ever want to go to Brazil? Sure, if the opportunity came up. Are there any medical conditions that run in your family? A lot, mostly heart problems. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica imo. Who is the biggest jerk you've ever met? She was somehow my former best friend. Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never been in that situation, thankfully. What's a charity you would never donate to? I'm really not familiar enough with charities and their practices to know which ones are sketch or not. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you have any exes you'd consider dating again? Yes. What were some of your favorite classes you took in high school? Art and German. Mythology was fun, too. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Yeah, I have a cousin that's a lawyer. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, outta curiosity. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like, two days. Part of the reason I left Girt was because I liked Sara. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? Chicken noodle soup. What's a movie series where the sequel was better than the original? Ha, for some reason Inspector Gadget came to mind. I guess from mentioning my childhood. I was FUCKING OBSESSED with that movie as a kid. The first one's fine, but I love the second one. Does your car have heated seats? Mom's doesn't. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing strange, really. Describe your hometown. What’s it like there? Small and dangerous. Lots of run-down areas. A gang nearly broke into our house once, if that helps you get the picture. What was the last video game you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 forever ago. What did you learn from your last failed relationship? It really just taught me that you need to take care of your own mental health before you can effectively handle another's properly and strike a healthy balance. What country does your favorite band hail from? Britain. What’s something on your to-do list that never actually gets done? Finish decorating my room. -_- Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it? Good Mythical Morning, I suppose. I used to be OB-SESSED. I still adore Rhett and Link as people, they are fucking wonderful human beings and excellent entertainers, I just drifted away from their content. I don't really know why. Do you sleep with the TV or the radio on? No. What’s the worst thing about being male/female (whichever you are)? Menstrual cycles, I'd say. It affects your mood so much, and as someone who's bipolar, it can be very confusing. I like to know why I'm feeling a certain way. What movie has the best special effects? /shrug How many work hours per week is too much for you? I wouldn't know, I've never really worked long enough to figure this out. Can you remember your first day of school? I think I have the faintest memory of it. I know I was very scared to leave my mom (I had absolutely awful separation anxiety from her) and I MIGHT have cried, but I don't really recall with certainty. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? No thanks. Did you keep any drawings/stories from when you were younger? Most, no, because the level of cringe is LITERALLY unbearable for me. Do you have a safe? Mom does somewhere. What’s the scariest thing to happen to you so far? The breakup. That night was just fucking terrifying. I was so certain my life was over, like the situation was so, so impossible in my head. What was your last dream about? (or your daydream if you don’t remember) My memory's faint, but I just remember I had a nightmare where a LOT of my bones were totally snapped in half. When was the last time you saw a relative? Excluding my immediate family, I last saw my now-departed grandmother and my uncle a while back at a hotel as they were passing through. Have you ever been in a TV audience? No. Are you in any way close to reaching a personal goal? Not really... Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? Word searches. Do you like making collages? Not really. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? No. What would you love to learn to do? Digital art, like drawing on a tablet. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? Lemurs. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? The plot, 100%. Are you more shy in real life or on the internet? I am WAY more shy irl.

[tsarinastorm]

Old Wounds, New Roommates-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 2

Chapter 1

ONE YEAR AND SIX MONTHS AGO

Ever since your hookup with Adam, he’s texted you every day, and you had had another intense fucking sessions.  You had thought things were going well, but tried not to think too much into it. He was clearly a damaged soul that was processing a lot lately. He had went from some girl before Hannah to Hannah to some other girl back to begging for Hannah back to Jessa to you. That’s why you were surprised and tried to act nonchalantly when he informed you of his ‘feelings’ one day.

               “I like you, I really like you. I never thought I could feel like this again but with you I feel it.” He tells you while holding your hand to his chest, his eyes never leaving yours. He was looking at you with such adoration, you fell for it. He then insisted on taking you on a real date, you reluctantly agreed.

               Now sitting at the restaurant, he’s already twenty minutes late. The waiter keeps coming to your table to ask if you need anything. More wine is definitely needed. You’re giving him ten more minutes then you’re leaving. You scold yourself because you should have never expected anything from him. Furthermore, you were growing furious because you were normally the one in control of your relationships and here you were getting played. You knew better.

               It had been three weeks since Adam stood you up and he never had the decency to shoot you a text with an explanation…

                                                                               *******

PRESENT

               A lot had changed since your debacle with Adam Sackler over a year and a half ago. Now, you had two best-sellers under your belt, granted they were closer to memoirs based on your life. You wrote them to joke and parody your own life. It wasn’t your best work, but you were still happy that they were published under a pen name. Your next venture was historical fiction, and writing history books, your true passion. The novels brought you enough cash to pay off a majority of your student debt, and pay for your travels. You had spent most the past year doing promotional work around the world then leisurely travel. Either way, it burnt through your bank account fast.

               At the moment you were crashing at a friend’s apartment with your dog, Salem, and cat, Olive, joining you while your belongings were still in storage. You had given yourself a week to find a place. It was proving to be difficult: you needed a roommate because you would become depressed living on your own, and you didn’t want to live in Manhattan, and you had a limited budget at the moment. To add to the problems, most of the potential roommates were not roommate material. You were near your breaking point, something had to give.

               On top of everything you already had going on, you were almost ran over by Adam Sackler on a bike. Talk about a blast from the past. You couldn’t deny that he looked even better than you remembered: his hair was now slightly longer and he was even more toned. He also threw out there that he and his girlfriend broke up pretty quickly in your conversation. He was your biggest mistake: you shouldn’t have gotten attached and you shouldn’t have let him play you like that. Now all was left of your feelings for him was a burning rage, and deep down below that, a desire for him.

               You walk into Ray’s coffee shop to re-caffeinate and catch up with him. As you wait in line, you notice that Adam is there near the register. You really can’t a catch a break lately. You order your usual and do your best to ignore Adam. Luckily, Ray keeps the conversation going.

               “Hey, Y/N, how’s the apartment and roommate search going?” Ray asks as he hands your coffee.  You take it and decide to let it cool, you needed caffeine but it wasn’t worth the mouth burn.

               “Horrible. You should see some of the options.” You admit and settle near the register. There’s not a line so you standing there it shouldn’t disturb much. You can tell that Adam’s purposefully eavesdropping on your conversation. Typical. Shouldn’t he be worried about his own acting gigs, or one of the many exes or future exes you’re sure he has around.

               “Why don’t you wanna live alone again?” Ray ponders as he cleans the counter top, before leaning on it with his elbows. Ugh, this again. You have to remind people how screwed up you are, how much you’ve screwed up your life.

               “Because I’m miserable living alone, and it’s better for me to split rent at the moment.” You’re silently praying that Ray takes the hint and drops the topic. You’d prefer not to talk about it at all, let alone in front of the banes of your life: Adam Sackler. Ray however, is not dropping it, instead he focuses in on one of comments.

               “Wait, did you fly through your profits already?” Ray gives you a judging look that resembles a scowl. You feel like you’re being scolded by one of your parents. You roll your eyes as you answer.

“Yeah between paying off my student debt and traveling, it went by pretty fast.” You grind your teeth, a bad habit, and give him a stern look in return. Hopefully, he’ll get the hint this time. To your surprise and chagrin, it’s Adam who chimes in next.

“I have an extra room you’re welcome to it. I just redid it.” He turns toward you now, both you and Ray stare at him shocked.  Adam then continues sipping on his drink like nothing happened.

“You serious?!” Ray shouts, and you add in with, “What?”

               “I added on, it’s a nice bedroom and has its own bath. You can stay there. The rent is fixed for me so the price shouldn’t be a problem.” The initial reaction is: fuck no, you would leave the city and go move in with your parents before you’d move in with Adam. Then, you thought that Adam was better than most of the roommate options you had met so far. He might be your last choice, but then again, you’re at your last choice.

               “Can I see the room before I make a decision?” You ask, because knowing Sackler the room could either be very nice or it could be a total disaster. There was little room for middle ground with Sackler. Also you’re curious if the place looks as disheveled as it did the last time (one other time) you were there. If so, you would need to do a thorough cleaning before moving in.

“Oh I have a dog and cat, is that okay?” You think that the apartment will have to be pet-proofed. Adam runs his hands through his hair before nodding saying, “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

               “Wait, are you really considering this? Have you lost your fucking mind?” Ray puts his hands up in the air, and waits for you tell him that you’re joking, that this is some kind of joke. Your face stays serious because you definitely need some place to live ASAP. You ignore Ray and keep your eyes on Adam.

               “Ya, want to go now?” Adam asks as he motions his head in the direction of the door.

“Yeah.” You gather up your bag and your coffee, prepared to go. Adam heads out the door, waits for you by the doorway, and you’re right behind him. Ray gives you an incredulous look and you explain, “I want to see if there are proper floorboards.”

“Why would the floorboards matter?” Ray asks before he turns back to cleaning the counter or whatever he’s doing.

“In case I end up having to hide a body…” You joke but it’s the truth, it might end up being reality. If you weren’t desperate you wouldn’t even consider living with Adam: it was a catastrophe waiting to happen. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

****

When you get to the apartment, after a one-sided conversation with Adam on the walk over, you’re surprised that it’s cleaner than last time. Apparently, Adam is a nervous talker, and can actually clean on occasion. The apartment isn’t as well kept as when Ray was living there but you could live with it.

“Your room is back here.”  Adam leads you back through the hallway, and you find yourself checking out his book collection. You also notice that the yellow sofa hasn’t left even though it should probably be retired.

“My maybe room.” You correct him as you follow him. Of course the apartment smells like him and it brings back memories that you’d prefer to forget even though they’re sketched in your memory. When you walk into the added room, you can’t help but let out a sharp inhale as you take it all in. It’s stunning, and surprisingly roomy for New York.

“This is actually nice, did you do all of this?” You head into the bathroom, which has a new shower with tub, and a sink with decent counter space. In New York there was never enough space unless you were a billionaire, but you could see yourself living here. Though you might have to wear noise-cancelling headphones and blinders to avoid your roommate.

“Yeah, I like to do this kind of stuff.” Adam answers, downplaying his craftsmanship. When you walked back into the bedroom, you notice that the walls are still white, and not painted. Adam breaks your train of thought by asking, “What do you think?”

He waits for your answer, and you can tell he’s waiting for you to rip into the place. You turn to look at him, placing your hands on your hips. You tell him, “I have only one question: can I paint it?”

Adam gives you that goofy smile that you’ve always been fond of, before agreeing, “Yeah no problem. Just preferably not hot pink or some shit like that.”

And just like that, you’re going to be roommates with a former fuck buddy, who stood you up and played you in the past. Maybe Ray was right, maybe you had lost your damn mind.

******

The new living situation was tempestuous at best. Adam had a habit of being a slob and leaving glasses of milk around the apartment at all hours. Then, there was the case of his tools which were quickly spreading throughout the common areas of the apartment. The worst was the nights: he was in and out all night, up and down. You had to get up and be productive and he should be too but apparently he preferred to live like the struggling artist.

You were hoping that tonight would be different: he might go to bed at a decent hour like the rest of civilized society. All of those hopes crashed when you heard a woman’s voice talking on the other side of the wall. This was not going to be a fun night, at all.

“Do you like my cock, you fucking whore?” You hear Adam ask on the other side of the wall.

“I really like your cock,” you hear the unknown woman answer back.

You roll over to your side, and turn up the volume of your headphones. That works for a short period of time because soon you can hear the bed hitting the wall. The bed’s hitting the wall to the point it’s making your own headboard rattle from the vibrations. You try in vain to knock against the wall, hoping they’d get the hint. Sadly, it doesn’t even phase them.

Then, the moaning and screaming starts. Adam is groaning and grunting, while his companion is screaming his name like a chant. This continues for several moments until the woman says, “Adam, fuck, I’m cumming.”

“Fuck, fuck where do you want me to cum?” You hear Adam say, followed by a response, “Cum outside.”

               “You’d like that, huh, for me to fucking cover you in my cum?” The woman moans something intelligible back that you can’t discern. After a few thrust that you hear through the wall, it’s over as you hear Adam let out a guttural moan. Now, you just hope that it was a one round night, and hope that the girl doesn’t stay the night.

               Round two did happen, loudly, and right when you had just gotten to sleep. You did think that you heard the girl leave earlier, and did not want to ever encounter whoever she was. You would however make sure Adam knew how you felt. Some people actually have to wake up in the morning have some semblance of a routine. You put the food in Salem’s and Olive’s respective bowls then pour yourself a cup of extra strong coffee and make a bowl of cereal.

               Adam comes out of the room as if on cue. He’s only wearing a pair of black briefs, and you can’t help but ogle him just a little bit. He was toned and in shape when you met him, but now he’s built like Adonis, and his longer hair only adds to the likeness. You stop yourself from admiring his bulge, you already know what his dick is like, and know what he’s like in bed: mindblowing.

               That thought process reminds you that you’re still pissed that his escapades kept you up all night. You wait to say something when he’s sat down across from you and eating his own cereal.

“Did you have fun fucking the Banshee last night?” You ask as you sip your coffee. Shock goes across his face, he looks embarrassed for a moment then he covers it with cool arrogance.

“I did…thanks for your concern.” He answers. His cool, smug demeanor pisses you off more. Not only did he keep you up all night having to listen to him to fuck, now he has the nerve to pretend it’s no big deal.

“I could tell. I could hear it. You can keep it down, no one wants to hear a porno being made.”  You tell him sternly, squinting your eyes at him, and then getting up to put your cup in the sink. You put in there loudly, to exaggerate your frustration.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.” Adam has the nerve to say as you begin retreating into your room. His comment makes you halt and stalk back into the kitchen.

“Ha! Why would I be jealous? Have you forgotten I’ve already been on that ride?” You cock your head to the side and cross your arms. Adam is looking at you with eyes that are a hot amber, he’s trying to provoke you. You see his jaw twitch in frustration to your comment.

“Which is why you know you’re missing out. You miss me fucking your brains out.” Adam stands and is invading your personal space.  You’d almost forgotten how much taller he was than you. You hadn’t forgotten what kind of sexual chemistry you had, the chemistry has now turned to tension as your eyes stay locked on one another’s. You wanted to punch him, stay away from him, but you also want to kiss him, to fuck him so hard that he’s absolutely wrecked.

Instead, you provoke him by hitting him where you know it will hurt.

“Uh no…it wasn’t that good.” You know there are three possible results from what you just said. One, you’ll hate each other even more. Two, you’ll end up fucking right here and now. Or three, a combination of one and two. Adam’s eyes darken and his brow furrows as he takes a step closer to you.        

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace, Chapter 1

A manorian high school AU

Words: 1688

Warnings: This chapter contains mentions of both physical and psychological abuse.

AO3 Link: Click here

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn't let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

And we climbed onto the roof of the museum

And someone made love in the grass

And I forgot my name

And the way back to my mother’s house

-Florence + The Machine, South London Forever

Dorian Havilliard had never been happier to be with his friends. He was currently standing in Aedion Ashryver’s kitchen, drinking a beer and chatting with Chaol. The final third of their trio was busy sucking face with Rowan Whitethorn.

A lot has changed while I was away, he thought.

While his friends had been here - going to parties, hooking up with people, making memories - Dorian had been stuck at his family’s summer house, 700 miles away.

He knew he shouldn’t complain, it was a nice house - with a pool and everything - but if he had to take another day of his mother being wine drunk by 3pm, his little brother’s tantrums or his father’s extremely racist, sexist and homophobic comments he would go crazy.

Of course, not everything about his summer had been bad, but he didn’t want to think about that now.

Instead, Dorian leaned back and took another sip of his beer, enjoying the fact that he was back. «I am not drunk enough to watch this,» he said to Chaol, nodding towards Aelin and Rowan, the former now licking - actually licking - the latter’s neck.

«I know, gross right?» Chaol said, mimicking himself throwing up and earning a chuckle from Dorian in the process.

«When did this even happen?» he asked. Last time Dorian had checked, Aelin hated Rowan. Thinking back on how she always complained about the star quarterback being an annoying pain in her ass with his alpha-male bullshit, Dorian couldn’t quite fathom the sight before him.

Chaol looked towards them again with a disgusted look on his face. «No idea, I think they hooked up over the summer,» he replied, turning towards Dorian. «How about you? Met any cute girls?» Chaol wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis.

«Ehm..no,» Dorian replied quickly, finishing his drink.

Liar, he said to himself. He had hooked up with someone. Had even been in a relationship, brief as it was. That relationship had been the only good thing about his summer, the only thing making it bearable. Yet he couldn’t get himself to tell his friends about it. He couldn’t get himself to utter the words:

You know what? I did hook up with someone over the summer. His name was Vaughan and he looked like a god. Oh, I’m bisexual by the way.

Dorian had known for a few years now, but he still hadn’t come out to his friends. It shouldn’t have been this hard - he was living in 2019 after all - and they had been a trio for as long as he could remember. Dorian knew they would support him no matter what, but he couldn’t get himself to say it.

His spiraling train of thought was thankfully interrupted when Aelin finally came strolling into the kitchen.

«What’s up, losers,» Aelin announced, hopping onto the counter. She tried giving them her usual smirk, but all snark and bravado was replaced by blushing cheeks and a huge grin.

Chaol handed her a drink, before saying: «Who are you and what have you done to our Aelin? I can literally see hearts in your eyes.»

Dorian expected some sassy comeback, but she just giggled, looking towards the backyard where her boyfriend stood, talking to his friends.

Oh yes, things had definitely changed over the summer.

«I’m in love,» she declared, flinging her arms out and nearly hitting Dorian in the chest. «You should try it sometime,» Aelin continued, winking at Chaol.

There is the Aelin we know and love, Dorian thought.

She turned her gaze from Chaol to Dorian, giving him a once over.

«You,» she said - pointing at Dorian - «got hot over the summer.»

He felt a blush spread over his face at her words. He guessed he had changed a little over the summer. He had grown a few inches, let his hair get a little longer - the raven black curls almost falling to his eyes now - and put on a couple pounds of muscle. His mind wandered back to Vaughan and how he had shown exactly how hot he thought Dorian was.

He tried to change the subject over to something else, and said the first thing that came to mind: «I can’t believe we’ll all be seniors from tomorrow on.»

Both of his friends looked at him then. «I know!» Aelin said. «But I’ve got a feeling this year is going to be great.»

She threw her arms around their shoulders, before exclaiming: «I’ve got my boys with me after all. What could go wrong?»

And as his best friend grinned at him - the feeling of summer and freedom still lingering, music playing long into the night - Dorian couldn’t help but grin back, letting all worries and secrets fade away.

For now, at least.

-

Manon Blackbeak was sitting in her room, reading Animal Farm. The semester didn’t start until tomorrow, but the curriculum was always published a few days ahead, and her grades wouldn’t suffer from coming to class prepared. Her grandmother would only accept the best, after all.

She put away the book as she heard something rustle inside her closet. Seconds later Abraxos emerged, his head stuck inside a t-shirt. Manon sighed at the sight of the little black cat, but stepped over to help him.

Once she had freed him, she was awarded with a loud purr, his head pushing against her thigh. Manon rolled her eyes at his antics. «You stupid worm,» she mumbled, but gave in and stroked him behind his ears.

«It’s getting late,» she said to her companion. «We should head to bed, so we’re well rested for tomorrow.»

As if he understood what she was saying, Abraxos hopped onto her bed and laid down on his usual spot, right next to her pillow.

Manon turned off the lights before laying down next to him.

I will be a senior from tomorrow on, she thought.

Her summer had been rather uneventful, as usual. They never went anywhere, never did anything. Manon’s grandmother was always very busy, so she only had her cousin Asterin for company - whenever she was home, that was.

Manon spent her summers waiting for school to begin again, getting the time to pass by reading herself up on various subjects, always working to maintain her perfect GPA.

Only the best will do. Her grandmother’s words echoed in her mind. You don’t want to end up like your mother, do you?

Manon had never met her mother - since she had died right after Manon was born - but her grandmother liked to remind her of how big of a failure the woman was, having dropped out of college after being knocked up by Manon’s father.

She had never met her father either. Apparently the man was a drunken nobody, wanting nothing to do with his daughter.

Her parents wasn’t something she thought about often, but once again she heard her grandmother’s words. You will do better. Be better. Understand?

Manon’s summer hadn’t only consisted of tedious schoolwork, she had also spent countless hours at the dance studio, practicing new moves.

Dancing was her one great passion. She loved closing her eyes and getting lost in the music, her body moving to the rhythm on its own accord. On the good days, dancing felt like flying.

That was the other reason to why she was looking forward to school starting again. She hadn’t danced with her team in months. They called themselves the Thirteen, and she was their captain. As soon the semester started they could get back to practicing, working towards their goal of beating Iskra Yellowlegs and her team’s ass.

As she closed her eyes, ready to drift off to sleep, her mind wandered to Asterin. Manon hadn’t seen her cousin all evening, so she came to the conclusion that she had most likely snuck out to go to some end-of-summer party. It wouldn’t be the first time.

As if on cue, someone knocked quietly on her window.

«Speaking of the devil,» Manon said to no one in particular as she got out of bed, walked over to the window and opened it, only to find Asterin standing outside.

The girl looked wild, wearing her usual leather jacket, wavy, blonde hair hanging loose, make-up smudged around her eyes.

«Move your ass and let me in,» was her cousin’s only greeting as she stealthily climbed inside, barely making any noise.

Manon chose to ignore her and crawled back into bed. Asterin followed, shoving Abraxos out of the way and laying down next to Manon.

The cat gave Asterin an offended look before running inside the closet again.

«How drunk are you?» Manon asked her cousin, trying to ignore the stench of alcohol. 

This was going to be a long night, she thought.

Asterin turned to lay on her back. «Not too drunk, I can walk in a straight line,» she said, turning her face towards Manon’s and wiggling her eyebrows.

Manon wasn’t too sure about that, noticing the slur in her voice. All of a sudden, Asterin started to giggle.

«What’s so funny?» Manon asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice.

Asterin didn’t seem to care that her cousin would much rather sleep as she answered: «I’m just happy about life I guess. I have a boyfriend now.» She giggled some more, drawing out the syllables in boyfriend.

Asterin kept going, «His name is Hunter, and he’s perfect.»

So that’s why she’s been out so much lately, Manon mused to herself.

She went quiet after that, probably asleep already. Manon turned to lay on her side, -facing away from her drunk cousin - when Asterin spoke again. Her voice was quiet and surprisingly sober this time. «You didn’t tell her, right? That I was out, I mean. You know how angry she can get.»

Yes, Manon knew first hand how angry their grandmother could get, the small, white mark she bore on her left cheek proof of that.

A/N: If you finished it all, congratulations!

I never thought I would write a multichapter fic, but I got the idea for this and was unable to put it away, so here it is!

I have the full story plotted out already (although it is a mess), but don't know how often I will have the inspiration to write the chapters and post them. I don't want to make a posting schedule either because consistency is definitely not my middle name.

I just have to say that writing Manon is extremely difficult. She is one complex character. But I am trying my best, and decided to write her like I think she would be, had she been a human teenager.

Also, if it seems like the writer of this fic has never stepped foot inside an American high school, you're correct. I'm just a simple Norwegian trying my best.

Feel free to leave a comment:) Constructive criticism is always welcomed, as I am working towards improving as a writer.

Peace&Love -Dawninlatin

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, ALYX! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF ARAEL.

Admin Rosey: Oh god, I think Arael was one of the characters that caught me by surprise. But the absolutely mastery of this application, did not at all surprise me because only Arael could - and should - be so effortlessly captured within the span of a single application. Tragedy, as you said Alyx, is woven into Arael’s bones and the fact that they recognize it and are so unbroken by it in their countenance says absolutely everything to me. The plots that you have lined up only feed into that tragedy more and I, for one, am absolutely here for it. I think that Arael is ripe for evolving and I completely trust this beautiful starlit character in your capable and loving hands. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Alyx

Age | Taylor Swift vc: Idk about you, but I’m feeling 22!

Personal Pronouns | She/Her.

Activity Level | hopefully pretty active? I have work and classes but I’m taking less hours and my internship is done so I’m hoping I have more time to be on the dash.

Timezone | CST.

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group?  | I saw plenty of ads for it on my personal.

IN CHARACTER

Character | 

Arael: “Lion of God”; She couldn’t remember her original name. Her memories of the cold abyss of the galaxy came to her in bits and pieces that she latched onto as one would latch onto an extended hand. She could remember that feeling of peace within her falling star. She could remember that acceptance as her annihilation came nearer. She could remember the rage and melancholy that took over her being as she opened her eyes and examined the wings that protruded from her back and the knowledge that her destiny was ripped away from her. The name Arael was a reminder of that original loss. She was never supposed to be a lion of god. She was never supposed to be an angel stuck on Earth. God had claimed her for himself. He claimed her to be a lion, and all she could do was set her icy gaze on her surroundings and roar until her voice grew hoarse and the burning in her chest faded away.    

What drew you to this character? |

To be honest, I lurked on the admins’ blogs as the RP was originally being promoted. I tend to search for characters I like by quotes and images posted to their tag, and there was one quote on Arael’s tag that caught my attention. I don’t remember what exactly it said, but I knew it meant Arael was a character I needed to keep my eye on.

I love characters with tragedy built into their bones. There’s something so compelling about a character going through hardships and how they react to those hardships. Arael’s power alone showed me that she was a tragic character. To be able to hold everyone’s hope in your hand aside from your own? It seemed like a twisted gift from fate. As I read more, I realized that she was a creature of tragedy. She was pulled from the night sky against her own will. She was made into god’s image without her consent, and forced to endure the knowledge that she had lost her home and her destiny. She stared at the night sky, but she was never truly able to go back to her original home.

I like playing around with grief and how it impacts a character. I like seeing if they drown in their feelings, or if they rise above the grief and move forward with their lives. I think Arael is drowning in her grief. She’s stuck in this tunnel of rage and revenge that will consume her if she’s not careful. She’s blinded by this need, and I find that incredibly interesting to explore. Will she burn out? Will she start a war between the three parties? We’ll have to see.

Her story also kind of reminded me of Buffy Summers from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Not in a direct way, but there was a storyline where Buffy died and her friends brought her back from heaven and Buffy talked about being in peace before they brought her back. Arael being torn from her fate and made into an angel reminds me of that. The melancholy and grief they both felt from being ripped away from their rightful place. The way everyone notices that mourning. It gave me parallels.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? |

“Why are you full of anger? Because you are full of grief.”

→ She was happy. For so long, Arael didn’t know what that feeling entailed. She had looked upon her existence as a punishment. She stared at the realm of heaven and only saw a jail cell. Her body was crafted by god, yet all she felt was unfamiliar in her own skin. Uriel had changed that. She had brought a smile to the otherwise stoic angel’s face. She was warmth wrapping itself around Arael’s cold heart. She was that flicker of hope that Arael felt in other people. She was hers, and someone had ripped that away from her. As she stared into her lover’s empty gaze, all she could think about was doing the same to whoever had killed her. She will rip the world apart if that’s what it took to satisfy the grieving of her heart. The only question will be: who will be spared in the end? 

A big part of Arael is her dealing with that loss of her lover and that need for vengeance. I definitely want to explore her seeking out the answers to the murder. I want to see her dragging suspects to be interrogated in the hope that one day the right person will tell her what she wants to know. I want her to endanger innocent lives in her quest for justice. I want her to be so consumed with rage and grief that either herself or others get harmed in the process. She is a star on a collision path, and I want her to burn and burn out during this journey. Most of all, I want her to find the person who did it. I want her to find them, and I want her to kill them. It's the only way for her to be satisfied. It’s the only way for her to put her grief behind her and search for that glimpse of hope again

“You turn the pain into power.”

 → To some, her powers seemed like a blessing. To be able to hold onto someone’s greatest hope was to understand what truly made someone feel at ease. It was the way their eyes sparkled whenever their favorite person walked in a room. It was the passion that would surge through an individual during that last battle of a war. It was a glimpse behind the mask that people often wore, and Arael held all that at her fingertips. To her, this power was another way fate mocked her. She could feel what people’s greatest hopes were. She could fill them up with so much hope that they would be blinded by that desire. She could do so much for other people, but it would never be done for her. She couldn’t fill herself up with that hope. She couldn’t understand that blinding urge that she gave out. What does one do with a gift that serves to remind someone of the very thing they’re lacking?

I want to explore the depths of her power. I think that there’s more to be discovered with her abilities, and I want her to discover exactly what she can do with her gift of hope. I want her to see if her power could be used in the opposite direction. Could she drain someone of their hope? Could she blind someone with utter hopelessness to the point that they see nothing but their dreams slipping from their grasp? I think it would be a dangerous discovery if it were possible. I would also like to see a situation where her gift is irreversible— whether it be gifting hope or taking it away. Perhaps anger clouds her abilities and she over exerts her gift. Perhaps she’s trying to find an ounce of her own hope by filling someone up with so much hope that they become a shell of their former self. I want to push her powers to its limits, and I want Arael to see what sort of consequences are dealt from that discovery. 

“You allow your anger to blind you.”

→  Arael’s been in a fragile state since the death of Uriel. To feel the small hint of hope get ripped out of her hands by an unknown assailant left her in a state of brokenness. She’s blinded by this ideal that she’ll be satisfied with vengeance. She has it built up in her mind that the death of this assailant will bring her the peace that she almost had with Uriel—- the same peace that was ripped away from her by god. What do others feel about this mentality? Do they find it foolish? Do they understand her mentality? Or perhaps they see an opportunity hidden behind those aching eyes? 

I want to explore the concept of manipulation with Arael. I’m usually not fond of manipulation plots, but I feel like Arael’s in such a vulnerable state right now that it might be possible. I want someone to see that anger and despair. I want someone to see this utterly terrifying, broken angel and use it to their advantage. She’s the perfect weapon if used correctly. Her tunnel vision for revenge could easily be directed towards someone’s enemy if they whispered the right words to her. She could start a war if the correct side twisted her enough. I want to see her revenge used for someone’s personal plans. Maybe she kills an innocent person because she was led to believe they were present during her lovers death. Maybe she drags an innocent victim to Abaddon because she was led to believe they had valuable information. I want to see that manipulation, and I want to see the fallout of it. 

“You reach for a soul that forever escapes your grasp.”

→ Arael loved Uriel, or at least it was the closest she ever got to love. The angel had gifted her a slice of hope that she had lacked since her creation, and Arael has been seeking a semblance of that hope since her departure. She feels lost, like she was back to her first years as a star-turned-angel, and she hates that feeling. She hates the emptiness that fills her heart as she watches the mortals her companion once adored. She hates the way she feels so distant from the other angels. Most of all, she hates that their love story ended so abruptly. She misses her with every fiber of her being. One often wonders what they would have their final words be to a loved one, but what if she could have that do over? What if she could catch a glimpse of her again?

I want her to approach Ryuk about contacting her dead lover’s soul. I think there’s a variety of reasons why she would want to talk to Uriel again. I think the most basic one would be that she wants to see her again—- even if it’s only through Ryuk’s words. This was the one person that broke her out of her shell and showed her that the world was worth more than mourning. The most plot related reason would be that she can ask her what her last memory was. Arael has exhausted her options when It comes to possible suspects, so perhaps Uriel could remember who was around during her death or who even caused her to perish. I also like the thought of Uriel advising her against this revenge quest, and Arael refusing to listen. She doesn’t realize that this isn’t what her lover would’ve wanted. She doesn’t realize that she’s doing more harm than good. It’s overall a more personal plot, but it’s good development for her and helps lead to either her collapse or her breakdown at realizing what she’s becoming. 

“Anger was better than tears.”

→  Mortals were the envy of God’s creations. Angels were tasked with protecting them like a dragon protects its treasures. They razed cities, enacted miracles, all for the species that found favor in God’s eyes. Arael was never a mortal. She never understood the significance of their kind. She had no attachments to the beings aside from those tasks formerly given to her. She didn’t care for them like Caphriel did. She didn’t despise them as others might. Her feelings towards them might be classified as indifference. However, the stance changed after the death of Uriel. Eyes that might have had a glimpse of care for the beings shifted into anger at the thought of one of them murdering her beloved. Eyes that casually looked over the beings stuck to watching them with careful eyes. One human in particular has gotten caught within her storm. The question is: will she shatter the tentative peace that held the world together? Perhaps a bigger question is: will she have any regrets if she does? 

Personally, I find the thought of Arael killing Bastien quite sexy. This would be completely up to the Bastien player, but even if it didn’t go that far, I still love the connection. I like the thought of Arael breaking that peace between the three factions. She sees Bastien as this arrogant fool, and she’s bothered by his position of power. How does her Uriel, gentle and kind, die while men like him thrive? It frustrates her. I’d like to see her knock him from his place at the table. Whether this be done through violence or jeopardising his spot amongst the ten would be up to the Bastien player and what they feel comfortable with, but I can work with either one. Arael’s desperate for some sort of vengeance. I think the more she struggles to find the one who killed Uriel, the one she’ll lean into these desires to destroy someone else, and Bastien is the unfortunate victim of her wrathful gaze. 

“You’re a being of isolation.”

→ She is the only one of her kind. No one else knows what it’s like to live amongst the stars. No one else knows what it’s like to be plucked from the night sky and recreated in someone else’s image. No one knows the loneliness that comes with such a fate. The other angels are her brethren, her allies, but they don’t relate to her on that level. She’s a solitary creature, a lone star stuck wandering the earth, and it’s a painful existence. Will she ever figure out that some stars lay in clusters? Will she ever realize that she has the opportunity to shed that loneliness? It’s hard to say. It’s hard to pull herself out of the isolation that she chose from the start. 

I want to explore her dynamic with the other angels. I think Arael struggles with connecting to them due to her origins. She doesn’t have that connection of being formed from the Earth or reborn as an angel. She’s different from the others, and that caused her to separate herself. I want to see how they take her quest of revenge. Surely some of them were close with Uriel, maybe even close with Arael, so perhaps they would support the mission. On the other hand, I’d love to see that disapproval. I want to see them trying to temper her anger only to be met with an icy glare. I’d love to see someone try to talk her down from her grief. She’s blinded by this mentality of an eye for an eye, but she doesn’t realize how that affects her fellow angels. I want them to show her how it affects them. Let them get caught in the crossfires of her vengeance. Let them struggle to pull her away from the brink. I think the angels quietly realizing that this fallen angel, this hollowed soul, might do some real damage would be delicious to watch. 

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Absolutely!  

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation |

They say the story of Arael is a tragic one. She was a burning star plucked from the sky and formed into god's image. She was placed among the angels, meant to stand holy and divine alongside her new brethren, yet she found herself standing alone. This angels story isn’t built on blessings. Her story isn’t a fairytale told to the young mortals in an attempt to sooth them to sleep. No, her tale is built on loss, and that’s what motivates her throughout her journey.

Her original loss is the loss of her original destiny. She was stripped of her purpose, ripped away from her original form and forced into a foreign body. She stared at her reflection and a stranger peered back at her. She examined her wings and only saw the fragments of her former self embedded within her feathers. She destroyed cities on God’s behalf, and yet all she could feel was a hollowness in her chest. Loss was her mentality within this point. That acknowledgment of what she’s become and how to endure that was her guiding factor in her initial years of life as an immortal being.

The next stage of loss was the loss of her hopelessness. Uriel had dragged her away from that hole she tucked herself in. The fellow angel opened her eyes to the possibilities of life, and for the first time, Arael’s world wasn’t a bleak landscape. She had color in her vision. She had a slight light in her eyes. Her smile wasn’t forced. She was learning what it was like to look at life as an adventure rather than a chain wrapped around her ankle. This stage of loss was a good thing. It was a stage of growth for the distant angel. She lost that depression that overcame her during her early years. She lost that emptiness that had wrapped itself around her like a blanket.

This latest stage of loss is the cruelest of them all. This burning star, this cold-eyed angel was finally learning the most human of experiences: death. She felt that small sliver of hope rip away from her as she held Uriel’s prone form in her arms. Her body shook with anger as she realized she was once again alone. Her motivation stems from the impact of that loss and the grief that nestled inside her heart. She’s driven to revenge. Her eyes are blinded by the need to punish the person that ripped that hope from her. A part of her knows this is a dangerous path. She knows what happens to stars that burn too brightly. Yet, the loss keeps her locked in its grasp. If she is to burn out, if she is to be destroyed, let it be with the knowledge that she has conquered the loss that has been trailing after her for years. 

In-Character Para Sample | 

“I brought another one.”

The history behind her statement was not lost on her. Each week she’d latch onto a lead. Each week she’d drag them into the heart of the black cells. Each week she’d watch Abaddon pull out any sort of answers they might have buried in their chest. Each week she’d feel the bitterness of disappointment settle on her tongue as she realized she reached another dead end. It ended the same every time. It couldn’t end the same way this time.

Her eyes traced over the features of her latest endeavor. His porcelain skin and almost white hair reminded her of Uriel, but the resemblance wouldn’t help him out of his fate. She had plucked him out of the crowd in hopes that he had any recollection of that fateful night. With each individual, She wanted a direction. She felt herself grasping at ghosts as the figures from her memory dwindled, and this feeling of loss was becoming all too familiar. 

She released her hold on the boy and watched him try to scramble his way out of the cells. Mortals always seemed to have that reaction. Their fight or flight kicked in, trying to make sense of the location they were forced into, before finally realizing the fight was for nothing. They will leave once she gets the answers she’s seeking. 

And yet, the boy wasn’t providing those answers. She watched him endure the torture despite the pain it brought him. She watched him fighting back tears, denying pain until it couldn’t be denied anymore, and yet still the answers remained behind clenched teeth.  

“Again.” 

Her voice was strong as she stared at the bleeding, frightened human before her. She refused to accept that she had reached another dead end. She clung to her quest with sharp claws, and she refused to release her grip for even a second. She was a vengeful angel, a flame with no mercy in sight, and all would endure the burning until she felt satisfied. 

Her eyes flicked upwards to meet Abaddon’s, but she didn’t turn away. She didn’t care if the demon saw the hurt in her eyes or the flash of desperation that would spill out every time a mortal came to her with no answers. Maybe the demon had the same look when they got tossed out of god’s favor. Arael didn’t ask. Their relationship wasn’t built on sharing stories or reminiscing over almost forgotten memories. Their relationship was a mutual understanding--- a knife and the being that wields the instrument. 

“Do it again until I say otherwise.” Do it again until I can hold any sort of answers in my hand. Do it again until the ache in my chest disappears for a second.

Arael watched the mortal flinch at Abaddon’s nod with cold, unfazed eyes. The scream that erupted from the boy’s mouth would make others grieve, but it only reminded her of the hollowness inside of her. She felt nothing as she watched the pain on his face. She felt only her own rage trying to crawl out of her chest. Perhaps this is what it meant to be a star. Perhaps this was her destiny all along---- to burn from the inside out until nothing but a hollow shell remained. 

And perhaps she’ll succumb to her destiny, but only after the grieving in her heart is satisfied. She’ll burn up, but she’ll bring the person responsible for her demise with her. 

Extras | 

Inspo tag: https://elidclochan.tumblr.com/tagged/insp%3A-arael

Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/aesthctics/insp-arael/

[dippedanddripped]

It was clear from the beginning what Shayne Oliver was trying to convey with Hood By Air, a brand he founded in 2006 with Raul Lopez that was originally named Elite Urban Brigade. At one of their first fashion shows, which took place at New York Fashion Week in 2007, Mobolaji Dawodu, The Fader’s former style editor-at-large, asked Oliver where he saw Hood By Air going. Oliver, then 18, who looks cherubic in the grainy clip, said he wanted to create a lifestyle brand for the new generation that appreciates what’s going on in the streets, but understands urban culture influences the mainstream.

In that moment, Oliver prophesized the impact his brand would have on an industry that spent years looking to Black communities for cues, but rarely exalted the culture, credited it, or brought people from it into the fold. But the 2010s changed that, and the generation Oliver spoke of 12 years ago became the designers private equity firms want to invest in, luxury brands want to partner with, and stores want to carry.

When something is happening, it’s hard to assess its influence, but as the decade comes to a close, it’s apparent that Hood By Air helped create the luxury streetwear category that’s been fueling fashion. You can’t think about the last 10 years without thinking about Hood By Air, which defined style and trends for almost half the decade. Oliver put his very Black, very queer, and very cool world on a pedestal and changed the way brands design, the way retailers merchandise their stores, they way companies approach casting, and, for many, the way they see themselves and their place in fashion.

“SHAYNE OLIVER’S EXISTENCE AND THE CULTURE THAT CREATED HOOD BY AIR, IN MY MIND, ARE VITAL TO WHAT WE HAVE TODAY AS A MIXTURE OF FASHION AND SO-CALLED STREETWEAR.” - VIRGIL ABLOH

“Shayne Oliver’s existence and the culture that created Hood By Air in my mind are vital to what we have today as a mixture of fashion and so-called streetwear,” writes Virgil Abloh, founder of Off-White and artistic director of Louis Vuitton men’s, over email. “In one word, I would say HBA and Shayne’s vision showed the fashion system at large what the word freedom meant. From garments to runway shows, everything exudes freedom.”

Musician Ian Isiah, a longtime member of the Hood By Air collective, calls 2007 HBA’s official birth year. Urban fashion brands like Sean John, Baby Phat, and Rocawear hit a peak in the late ’90s and early 2000s, but lost their cachet—most of them expanded distribution to department stores like Macy’s. Isiah says there was a void of Black-led brands, and Hood By Air was an attempt to fill it. Dominican tailors made Hood By Air’s first T-shirts and they retailed around $200, which wasn’t typical at the time. The initial T-shirts, which were sold out of aNYThing, a now-closed streetwear brand and store on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, were meant to transition from day to night, another new concept. HBA also became known for a plexiglass Hood By Air nameplate necklace that Kid Cudi wore and Kanye West purchased from Seven New York.

Isiah says although the brand was stocked in a couple of stores, their main priority was “selling it to culture and getting it on the right girls and in the right looks.” GHE20G0TH1K (pronounced “ghetto gothic”), a party series founded by Jazmin Soto, better known as Venus X, in 2009, embodied that culture. Oliver DJed on some nights for a crowd made up of streetwear kids, punks, and queer folks. They would all wear HBA. ASAP Rocky was also a part of that culture Isiah mentioned. Isiah says they met Rocky through Jabari Shelton, better known as ASAP Bari, who would bring his friends from Harlem downtown—members of the ASAP Mob appeared in one of HBA’s early lookbooks. Rocky, who would mix brands like Rick Owens and Hood By Air with Jeremy Scott’s Adidas sneakers and Supreme, adopted the line early on, which brought it greater visibility and hype. The brand went on a hiatus in 2009 and became almost a collector’s item for those in the know.

POST CONTINUES BELOW

“It was sort of like this thing that everyone was still talking about but no one knew how to get it,” says Zachary Ching, Oliver’s longtime friend. “They didn’t have a website. There wasn’t even an Instagram. It was just like this mythical thing that you would see someone wearing once.”

Because of the buzz surrounding the brand, Ching called Oliver as soon as he was tasked with turning VFILES’ space on Mercer into a store, but Oliver, who was taking a break from the line to tour with GHE20G0TH1K, didn’t have any product. VFILES produced the pieces and purchased them from Oliver—Ching remembers ordering about 500 T-shirts across six styles—and on June 12, 2012, VFILES held an opening party for the shop that seconded as an HBA relaunch event. Oliver and Venus DJ’d, ASAP Rocky performed—most of the ASAP Mob came through—and on that night both HBA and VFILES were solidified as relevant movements in fashion. Following the party, the HBA pieces sold out within two days, and VFILES had to upgrade its payment systems to accommodate demand, which Ching describes as bananas.

“It was a pivotal moment in VFILES’ history,” says Julie Anne Quay, the founder of VFILES. “To physically see both the community come together, celebrate one of their peers, and shop it was really rewarding to me. It further galvanized me in my passion to really build VFILES into this community platform that was unlike the traditional fashion world at large and embraced a community that I thought was not only overlooked, but was disrespected.”

“IT WAS SORT OF LIKE THIS THING THAT EVERYONE WAS STILL TALKING ABOUT BUT NO ONE KNEW HOW TO GET IT.” - ZACHARY CHING

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Hood By Air helped set the tone for VFILES’ assortment, which eventually included Abloh’s Pyrex, which transitioned to Off-White, Been Trill, and Fear of God—this was before luxury department stores picked them up. Been Trill and Hood By Air even released a collaborative T-shirt in early 2013, which Oliver said started out as a brunch gift for friends and family but turned into something bigger without him knowing. Because celebrities like ASAP Rocky wore HBA and it had an aesthetic and name that resonated with the hood, Danielle Greco, who managed VFILES at the time, says the early consumers who lined up for the product—she describes them as “big, burly, tough men”—probably had no idea who Oliver was or what some of his messaging and graphics meant. Oliver said many of the logo placements for HBA were inspired by documentaries on gays in prison.

“Streetwear was very much a boys’ lane, and all of the brands that were trending at the time spoke to a very straight man’s world,” says Vashtie Kola, who met Oliver and Lopez in the early 2000s and hosted a Hood By Air TV series on her blog. “I remember they made a tank top with the term ‘Realness’ on it, which comes from the ball scene. And so I remember straight boys wearing tank tops that said realness or banjee. It was really nice to see.”

Because HBA was doing so well, VFILES and MADE helped Oliver secure an official spot on the New York Fashion Week calendar at Milk Studios in September 2013. It was Oliver’s big introduction to the industry and a chance to bring showgoers, who included Abloh, fashion editors, and longtime friends of the brand like Kola, into his world. The music was loud, the lights were dark, and the models weren’t A-typical. Boychild, a trans performance artist, jerked her body in a haunting way as she walked down the runway. This was followed by an appearance by ASAP Rocky, who closed the show wearing a neoprene Hood By Air Jacket. Kevin Amato, a photographer who had never worked on fashion shows until he met Oliver, handled the casting, which became a hallmark of HBA.

“The Hood By Air narrative for me was always just the underrepresented, really,” says Amato, who was casting from the streets. “And that’s what I tried to do with the casting. It was very organic. Rocky wanted to walk the show, but we didn’t just want a celebrity to walk the show. So we cast Boychild and had this contrast of different people and cultures colliding. It wasn’t meant to be hype. But I think after HBA and the casting, the whole fucking industry changed.” You now see this gender-fluid casting from luxury houses like Gucci and Balenciaga. The Yeezy Season 3 collection/Life of Pablo listening party at Madison Square Garden in 2016 featured a mix of professional models and real people, in 2017 Nike dedicated a campaign to voguing, and Victoria’s Secret recently cast its first transgender model, Valentina Sampaio.

In 2013, style was moving beyond the heritage #menswear look. The Watch the Throne Tour with JAY-Z and Kanye West had just ended, ushering a dark, goth aesthetic into streetwear with brands like En Noir and Black Scale. Riccardo Tisci’s Givenchy T-shirts and hoodies were popular—his rottweiler graphic was a hit—and Hedi Slimane’s pieces for Saint Laurent—skinny jeans, tailored coats, and flannel shirts—were selling well at retail.

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Most consumers had known HBA for its T-shirts, but after this show, it was clear HBA wasn’t operating in the same space as its peers. Oliver was playing with gender fluidity before it became a talking point and presenting new silhouettes that played on the familiar, but elevated it. Long-sleeve leather shirts with zipper closures right below the chest could be worn open or closed, depending on the situation; puffer jackets were recreated into capes; and collared shirts were covered in HBA logos. The New York Times’ Guy Trebay questioned if Alexander Wang and Tisci took notes from Hood By Air.

“It was definitely a reinvention. It wasn't a copy-and-paste, which is commonly seen these days,” says Kola. “Shayne understood the hood, but also had aspirations of creating his own unique look and vision. He merged those two worlds so effortlessly.”

Jennifer Williams, wife of Matthew Williams, who was part of Been Trill at the time, handled sales and started showing the line to buyers in Paris, which is where Wanda Colon, Barneys New York’s former vice president of menswear, discovered HBA. Colon says at the time, the luxury/contemporary category was dormant, and the brands Barneys was selling felt “safe and a bit staid.”

“I felt there was an opportunity to offer our customer a new point of view as it related to menswear beyond the brands that were being offered,” says Colon, who purchased the collection. “HBA filled a void in the industry that wasn't being addressed. The brand came to embody the mid-2000s zeitgeist of hybrid XXL silhouettes, deconstructed streetwear, couture fabrics, immaculate tailoring, genderless silhouettes, and big logos—Shayne was there first.”

The HBA merch plan included Hood By Air Classics, which made hood basics like tall T-shirts and sweatshirts, investment pieces, and the more progressive ready-to-wear line, which reconstructed and recontextualized American sportswear. Ching says this changed the way department stores looked.

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“Because of Hood By Air, you go into Barneys and look at a designer section and it has hoodies and sweatpants,” says Ching. “Hood By Air was like a crazy statement jacket, but then you had amazing T-shirts and graphic hoodies to go along with it. And you didn’t feel like you were wearing a Stüssy hoodie.”

On a cultural level, Oliver was a designer who wasn’t typically touted in fashion—he was Black, gay, didn’t have a degree from Parsons or financial backing from his parents. He also represented a movement that was happening in the background. Robin Givhan, fashion critic at the Washington Post, remembers being struck by how he and his team had been able to grab the attention of the industry in an aggressive way with clothes that she says, initially, weren’t well made, but had a bigger story to tell.

“It felt like it was shaking up the industry out of its doldrums and pushing it on a different course,” says Givhan. “The industry needed something that speaks to a moment that was demanding diversity, questioning gender identity, questioning the path that the next generation of designers were going to take the industry on, and into that giant question mark stepped Shayne and Hood By Air.”

While Hood By Air’s star was rising, so was ASAP Rocky’s, and his influence on fashion started to take hold. But in his song “Multiply,” released in 2014, he called HBA weak, and said Been Trill “was booty like ‘Tip Drill.’” At first, Rocky told Complex in 2015 that he dissed both brands because he wasn’t getting the acknowledgement he felt he deserved from them. But he recently revealed he was upset because he asked for ownership in HBA and Oliver said no. "You don't ask Rick to put you on an official level if you wear Rick Owens. You're wearing Rick and that's it. Why is it not the same with us?" aksed Oliver in an interview with Kerwin Frost and Isiah. Years later, Rocky called up Oliver and apologized. But the fashion industry was still intrigued, and Oliver won the inaugural LVMH Prize in 2014 and the Council of Fashion Designers of America’s Swarovski Award for Menswear in 2015.

Isiah says they were skeptical of the recognition, but happy about it, since it supported the idea of giving the underrepresented a seat at the table in fashion after years of going unrecognized. The awards were helpful, but not knowing how to deal with a new brand like HBA, the CFDA would suggest traditional business structures that weren’t in line with how HBA wanted to grow.

HBA had always been a collective, but it became more fully formed before and after the 2013 fashion show at Milk Studios. Leilah Weinraub, a filmmaker who was the acting chief executive officer; Isiah, HBA’s brand ambassador; and Amato, who continued to handle casting, remained on board. Newer additions included Ching, who left VFILES to join HBA full time as commercial director. He looked over T-shirts, jeans, hoodies, and graphic T-shirts so Oliver could focus on fashion pieces. Paul Cupo came on as design director to help elevate construction, and Akeem Smith joined as a stylist. Smith says that when he came on, HBA was going through a transitional phase and Oliver gave him free range “to add some more faggotry to the mix and add more chic elements to the brand.” By this time, HBA was showing about four times a year in New York and Paris. Oliver was the father of the house. He had the vision for HBA, and everyone brought their particular expertise to the table.

“It was almost like living in a nomadic community. Wherever it took us, we went and it just worked out. We were never starving, but I think any creative knows that money's not the motive. It was more about building,” says Amato.

Making money was not a primary concern for Oliver in the beginning. The brand was approached early on about investment, but Weinraub told the New Yorker she wanted to remain independent for as long as possible. HBA worked with Edison Chen for a little in Asia, where the brand was wildly popular—Chen brought it to Yo’Hood, a streetwear festival in China. Ching remembers K-pop stars coming to VFILES and buying up all the HBA, and walking through China and seeing the craziest HBA bootleg T-shirts with Hello Kitty on them. In 2014, Oliver partnered with the New Guards Group and moved HBA’s headquarters to Milan. The New Guards Group, the parent company of Off-White, Palm Angels, and Heron Preston, which was acquired by Farfetch earlier this year, handled HBA’s production, distribution, and sales. Everyone from HBA lived in a monastery, and during the day they worked out of a compound alongside Abloh, who produced graphics for HBA’s third major collection. "I was just like, 'Wait, who is this tall African man playing beats in the other room in this Italian studio?'" says Isiah.

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Isiah says he was hesitant about signing with the New Guards Group and that he and Oliver got into arguments about it, but he opened up to the idea. “Instead of working so hard and spending so much money to get 10 samples made in New York, we were now making 100 samples in Italy. It opened up our inventory,” he says.  

The shows also got more sophisticated and ideas were better executed. In January 2015, at Pitti Uomo 87, which was Hood By Air’s first show under the New Guards Group, they took over a villa in Tuscany but outfitted the space with strobe lights, smoke machines, a DJ, Venus X, and a neon HBA light logo. The show was dominated by tailored pieces with a Hood By Air spin.  Showing in Europe also helped some in the industry view Hood By Air as less of an underground group of misfits and more as a viable brand that presents new fashion concepts. At other shows, celebrities like Whoopi Goldberg, Rick Ross, Jaden Smith, and Naomi Campbell sat front row. Givhan says construction improved, but the show production, which compelled her to the brand, got increasingly tamer. She called it a smart decision to focus more on the clothes, but she did notice growing pains.

“I think they struggled, but I think that’s OK. Brands take a long time for full gestation,” says Givhan. “I think the industry is a bit like a voracious monster sometimes. And it has a tendency to gobble up new ideas and to elevate them sometimes before they are fully baked.”

By then, Amato had left the company due to a death in the family, but he observed HBA’s evolution from afar. Some things he liked, and some things he didn’t. He thought the casting, which was handled by his apprentice Walter Pearce, got more weird, less authentic. And he felt like other brands were trying to get next to HBA for attention.

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“Once business is popping and everything's crazy, it kind of loses some of the main vision, but that happens with every brand,” says Amato. “Instagram was new and it was just a way to strategically align yourself with a brand, and then, boom, all of a sudden, you're in the game. Like Been Trill was a movement, but was it a movement?” From the inside, Ching also noticed changes. Sales were going well and distribution got wider. Once HBA partnered with the New Guards Group, it had 250 stockists, up from 50 in less than three years. At the end of each season, they would assess what stores they would drop and how to edit down different stores’ orders.  

“It was always trying to control distribution, which I think towards the end got a little out of hand,” says Ching. “It was too easy to get it and shit was going on sale. It wasn't cute. It, like, really blew up, and then, you know, the market can only take so much.” While at the New Guards Group, Hood By Air was selling a lot of product, but not the product they thought best represented the brand. Oliver told Numéro there was miscommunication between the business side of things and the management and a lot of decisions were made in a "very panicky way." A clear business structure was never created for HBA within the group, so after a few seasons, HBA got out of the deal. In 2016, Oliver came back to New York wanting to position HBA as a conceptual fashion brand, not just a hype, of-the-moment line. Ching eventually left because he didn’t feel job security anymore, and in early 2017 HBA canceled its Paris show, which led to rumors that there were issues. In March, Helmut Lang announced Isabella Burley, Dazed magazine’s editor-in-chief, would be the brand’s editor-in-residence. She tapped Oliver to design a Helmut Lang capsule collection to show in September 2017. In April, Hood By Air released a statement that the brand would go on hiatus.

“THEY DON’T KNOW HOW TO TITLE WITHOUT OFFENDING. SO, IT’S LIKE, ‘OH, HE’S IN FASHION? HE’S MAKING T-SHIRTS? THERE’S HIP-HOP INVOLVED? HE’S A HYPE DESIGNER.’”  - IAN ISIAH

“I was so excited,” says Isiah about Oliver putting things on pause. “We needed a break. It was mood board overload. The culture couldn’t even keep up. We’ve already created so many daughters in so many fields, so it was time for them to flourish and grow. It was time for Virgil to flourish and grow. It was time for Heron to flourish and grow. It was time for Alyx to be born and then flourish and grow. The empire had to go silent for everyone else to rise as their own empire.”

In the midst of HBA’s trajectory, the industry was reaping the rewards of a market they helped form. Demna Gvasalia of Vetements, which was positioned as a collective of designers who embraced streetwear sensibilities, was named the creative director of Balenciaga, a position previously held by New York designer Alexander Wang. Gvasalia also won the same LVMH award Oliver received a year prior. And eventually Louis Vuitton tapped Abloh as their artistic director of men’s. Oliver went on to design capsule collections for brands like Diesel and Helmut Lang, but people, including Kanye West, questioned why the Helmut Lang partnership wasn’t longer or why Oliver wasn’t being propped up for a bigger luxury brand.

“When I saw it coming, it read to me that you had become the creative director of Helmut Lang —and it read to other people that way, too,” West said while speaking with Oliver earlier this year for Interview Magazine. “And it felt right, and it felt deserved. The reason I’m on the phone with you right now is that, of our generation of designers, you are the strongest of all of us. Of this entire crew that came up around the same time, you are the most deserving of one of these positions.”  

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In a ShowStudio panel discussing the Spring/Summer 2018 collection for Helmut Lang Seen by Shayne Oliver, you get a better sense of how the industry views Oliver and Hood By Air. Olga Kuryshchuk, a Central Saint Martins graduate, founder, and editor-in-chief of 1Granary, a student magazine and showroom, says Oliver was chosen for his hype, not for his design skills. She later offered that no one would reference the collection because it wouldn’t present any new ideas—Oliver told Numéro that because it was only a capsule, it made sense to curate rather than produce something new. Towards the end, Georgina Evans, an editor at ShowStudio, makes a distinction of asking which graduates, not just designers, could take on the role after Oliver. Another panelists suggests that Helmut Lang should look to school in Europe and maybe not one in America or Britain—her logic was although Helmut Lang is identified as an American brand, Lang was Austrian. The video underscored the industry’s tendency to look towards the same funnels or type of person for talent.

“They don’t know how to actually title without offending,” says Isiah. “So it’s like, ‘Oh, Shayne’s a hype designer. Oh, he’s in fashion? He’s making T-shirts? There’s hip hop involved? They’re voguing? He’s a hype designer.’”

Givhan says the most accepted route to lead designer jobs at larger houses is usually graduating from design school, getting a job working for a larger designer, and then being considered for the job when someone retires or passes away. She believes it’s more challenging for designers of color to get into that pipeline and be considered for those positions, but she does think the industry is making progress. She references Abloh going to Louis Vuitton.

In 2019, Oliver announced the relaunch of Hood By Air. Plans around the reboot haven’t been explained in detail, but from different interviews, Oliver seems interested in developing a solid business structure, ensuring that HBA is seen as more than a T-shirt and hoodie brand, and providing a platform for youth to create and not be taken advantage of. Amato, who had dinner with Oliver in Los Angeles a couple of months ago, says he doesn’t want to make any sacrifices this time. “He said it has to be 500 percent or nothing, which I think is the best way to go. I mean, his vision is so strong that it’s hard to even explain half the shit he’s thinking,” says Amato.

The original collective is still cool, but they’ve moved on to other things. Isiah is traveling the world singing and sitting front row at fashion shows—he sang with Dev Hynes at Abloh’s second show for Louis Vuitton. Amato is doing less casting and more artistic directing on projects like Travis Scott’s Rodeo album. Smith is the fashion editor-at-large for Dazed magazine, Cupo is freelancing for different companies, and Weinraub’s film, Shakedown, was a part of the 2017 Whitney Biennial.

And Kola, who was voguing with Oliver and Lopez in her apartment just before the decade started, is no longer just a downtown sweetheart. She travels the world DJing, has her own Jordan, and is paid by brands for her influence—the same influence Oliver talked about at his first fashion show over 10 years ago. When asked what she thought when Oliver said HBA was taking a break, she can’t recall how she felt, exactly. She starts and stops her answer, trying to find the right words to describe her feelings around the hiatus. But when asked about his impending return, she perks up, knowing exactly what to say and how to say it.

“I’m all for it,” says Kola. “I feel like a lot of other brands and designers were birthed from his movement. So I feel like mutha needs to come back and take care of these children she birthed!”

[cuthian]

Dancing in the Rain Chapter One

Welcome to the piece you've all been waiting for so very patiently!

This piece /can/ be read as a standalone piece, but should you have any questions if you do, be sure to ask in the comments, I'll reply as soon as I can :)

This entire work has been written and edited already, and will be updated on Mondays :D

As always, much thanks to Juulna for putting up with me!

Lots of love, Annaelle

Dancing in the Rain

Life is not about how you survive the storm It is about how you dance in the rain —Unknown author

Chapter One

REBECCA BARNES RESIGNS AS EARTH’S AMBASSADOR TO ASGARD AFTER PREGNANCY LEAK

Move comes only days after The New York Times published an article ‘outing’ Rebecca Barnes’ pregnancy, based on the say-so of Barnes’ former obstetrician, who says she was fired after Barnes filed a baseless complaint about the care she provided.

In a move that was predicted by several political experts following the tell-all article, Rebecca Barnes confirmed today that she would be resigning from her post as Earth’s Ambassador to Asgard—less than a year after her initial appointment. […]Ambassador Rebecca Barnes’ decision today came after several politicians from across the globe expressed their concern about Barnes’ ability to remain impartial and to represent Earth.

Barnes released a pre-recorded statement, in which she confirms that she is, indeed, pregnant, and that she will be stepping down from her post as ambassador. […]also distances herself from the statements made by her former obstetrician, confirming she chose to switch to a different doctor due to irreconcilable differences in opinion.

“I have always taken [her duties as ambassador] very seriously,” Barnes said in her statement, “and it is with a heavy heart but a clear conscience that I now resign from those duties. My relationship with the Aesir now runs far deeper and more intimately than anyone thought it would, and as such, there would always be a fear that my opinions and actions would be biased. This can be a very good thing, but it’s also only right that we do the correct thing and have an Earth-focused ambassador. Someone focused on the big picture instead of… well, instead of the small, the personal.”

[…]mixed response to Barnes’ announcement and resignation. Various media outlets have latched onto the story and have begun spinning various iterations of the same question: now that Barnes is—most likely—expecting long-term boyfriend and Prince of Asgard’s first child, will the couple finally be tying the knot? And, if so, does that make Barnes the first human princess of Asgard? Will their child(ren) be recognized as an heir to the Asgardian throne?

“[…]must be something in the water over at the Avengers Tower,” talk show host Jay Leno also joked during his latest broadcast. “First Potts, now Barnes—what’s next, Captain America going for his daily Central Park run with a stroller?”

Leno’s remarks were likely partially inspired by recent pictures of Captain America reading “What to Expect when You’re Expecting” and other varied baby books in several coffee shops and parks across Manhattan and Brooklyn, and tweets by Pepper Potts detailing the Captain’s dedication to helping her out however he can, more so than even her own partners.

[…]not clear when a replacement ambassador will be elected. There is much discussion amongst the various governments of the world about which government, if any single one, should be allowed to elect one of their own, or if the many governments of the world should form a council of representatives not unlike the European Union or the United Nations solely dedicated to communications and relations with extra-terrestrial nations.

—Max Colchester and Jason Douglas, The New York Times, “Rebecca Barnes Resigns as Ambassador”, January 2016

——————

Chicago, Illinois, United States of America April 12

th

, 2016 Steve

“Captain America!”

“Captain America, a statement, please?”

“Captain America, anything to say to reports that the Avengers orchestrated this attack to be able to save the day again, to get good press going for them?”

“Captain, any word on why Thor hasn’t joined the fight today?”

“Captain, captain, is it true Thor has threatened to cut ties with Earth if Rebecca Barnes’ child really is yours instead of his?”

There were a passel of shouting reporters standing by the barricades, barely held back by several police officers in—somehow—pristine blue uniforms, cameras flashing and microphones held out as far as they were able to reach.

Steve heaved a sigh, unclipping his helmet and running a hand through his dirty, sweat-soaked hair before he chanced a look at himself. He was covered from head to toe in fine dust and dirt, splashes of blood streaking across his thighs and chest—that seemed about right.

The giant insects that some wannabe supervillain had set loose on an unsuspecting Chicago had been hardy and mean, and it had taken him and the other Avengers—minus Becca, who’d been benched as soon as they all learned she was pregnant and was now holed up in the Tower with Pepper, shouting at them over the comms, and Thor, who had been called back to Asgard—well over seven hours of constant fighting to exterminate them all, even after Natasha had gotten her hands on said wannabe supervillain.

He was tired, he was sweaty and covered in dirt and blood, and all he wanted was to go home to the Tower and take a hot shower and then sleep for twelve hours—but someone had to talk to the media, and it looked like it was going to be him.

He sighed again and trudged towards the reporters, mentally trying to brace himself for the vastly inane questions he’d be getting about his supposed love affair with Becca that had now culminated in her pregnancy and his passionate tryst with Pepper, that had somehow also resulted in pregnancy.

Because apparently, in the twenty-first century, it seemed entirely implausible to the reporters that people actually remained faithful to their partners, rather than sleep around with the first reasonably attractive person in the near vicinity.

It was ridiculous.

Pepper had told him to ignore the rumours, that they’d go away as soon as the next big news broke, but it bothered him nonetheless. He didn’t like that people thought he was the kind of person that was okay with cheating on his friends, didn’t like that people thought him capable of something like that—and he hated most of all that the media still insisted on pairing him only with women.

It wasn’t like he was being subtle, or that his bisexuality was a secret.

He went to Pride parades dressed in a Captain Bi-merica suit every year, volunteered at several LGBT+ shelters and donated almost half of his Avengers income to various charities dedicated to at-risk LGBT youth. Everyone in his life knew that he and Bucky had been together, and everyone in the war had known too—even Peggy had known.

It’d been the worst kept secret in the U.S. Army—Captain America and Bucky Barnes were queer for each other, and entirely unapologetic about it too.

He wasn’t sure how that tidbit of knowledge had gotten lost over time when they remembered the fucking song.

The shouting got more frantic the closer he got, and he narrowly resisted the urge to turn on his heel and run the other way as fast as his serum-enhanced legs could carry him.

“Everybody,” he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the din. “I don’t have much time before I’m needed back, but I can tell you that we have successfully contained the threat and have taken the culprit into custody. We are currently coordinating relief efforts for affected families with local authorities. We expect displaced families to be able to return to their homes sometime tomorrow.”

“Captain,” one of the bottle-blonde women with far too much make-up caked on her cheeks demanded, “Is it true this attack was orchestrated by S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers to round up more sympathetic press in the wake of your scandalous affair and love child with Rebecca Barnes and Pepper Potts?”

Steve blinked at her.

“Tell me you're shitting me,” he deadpanned, barely even registering the way all of the reporters gasped. “Fifteen people lost their lives today,” he continued, maintaining direct eye contact with the woman who’d asked this fucking stupid question. “Fifteen people. Do you even know their names? I do. And I’m going to remember them for the rest of my life, because we didn’t get here fast enough—and not because of some imaginary sex scandal that exists absolutely nowhere but in your imagination, but because we’re only human too. We’re not here for better press, we’re here to make sure that those fifteen people are avenged. We’re here to make sure that no one else falls victim to one person’s greed, one person’s anger. Not because you’ve somehow got it in your head that I’ve been sleeping with the girl that may as well have been my own niece, if Bucky hadn’t died and if I hadn’t gone in the ice, and if I’d been allowed to keep the love of my life.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in, even for him, and though he wanted to groan and curse himself for losing his temper, he stood by his words.

He'd pretended to be their perfect little soldier—a dancing monkey—long enough.

He was fucking done.

He shot the wide-eyed, stunned woman an icy glare and said, “No further comment,” before he turned on his heel and walked away the way he’d come.

——————————

Cuthian:

Uuuhhhmmm… So tell me someone else saw this interview with Cap today?!?! @juuls, @betheflame ARE YOU SEEING THIS?

           juuls:

YES @cuthian, I’m definitely seeing this. HOLY CRAP. We called it—we SO called it.  

           betheflame:

           I SAID he’d slip it in during an interview! I WIN THE BET!

                       KlaudiaForPresident:

I’m so glad that we have someone as good and morally strong as Steve Rogers to represent us finally, but can we please talk about the way he was basically bullied into coming out of the closet?

There’s no way he felt comfortable sharing something so personal like this—just look at his face at 4:33, he said it in the heat of the moment, not because he was planning to tell us; and why would he?

It’s not like the media has been kind to him about his personal relationships since he’s been in the future. He’s been linked to nearly everyone he’s ever had a conversation with, and we need to acknowledge that that’s not cool.

Imagine how UNCOMFORTABLE it must be for him to constantly have to defend that he’s not sleeping with a girl he sees as a little sister, or a cousin—family.

Let’s just let him have his privacy, okay?

Even if we’re all ecstatic that he’s admitted his—potential—bisexuality, let’s not forget that he still lost the person he saw as the love of his life. He’s probably still grieving.

Let’s allow him to grieve and not push.  

#Captainbimerica #stucky #totallycalledit #birepresentation #thisismycaptain #captainamerica #psa #leavethepoormanalone #mediasucks

——————

Lagos, NigeriaApril 15

th

, 2016 Steve

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he told Becca after he’d switched his comm to their private channel, watching as Wanda, Nat, and Pietro moved into position on the small square between the Center of Infectious Diseases and the local police station. “Feels too easy.”

Becca hummed in agreement, and Steve didn’t need to see her to know she was sitting cross-legged on one of the extra-wide, extra-comfortable desk chairs Tony had designed especially for Pepper and Becca, frowning at her screen, keeping an eye on the security footage the same as him. She’d been on desk duty since she’d hit twelve weeks in the pregnancy, when the small but unmistakable baby bump became visible to everyone.

Thor had—understandably—been entirely unable to focus on the battles they fought while Becca was still in the field with them, and after he’d taken a harpoon to the arm because he’d been too busy covering Becca to cover his own ass, the rest of the team had voted unanimously to have Becca on desk duty for the rest of her pregnancy.

Becca, while grumpy, had not put up much of a fight about it.

“I’ve ran all the background checks imaginable on our informant though,” she replied calmly. “Nat and I went over all of the intel with a fine-tooth comb. It’s legit, Steve, you know that.”

Steve harrumphed grumpily and crossed his arms over his chest. “That doesn’t mean it’s not a trap,” he retorted, watching as Wanda ordered a cup of tea, keeping her—by now recognisable—face covered with the clever sweep of her hair and the slightly dramatic make-up she and Natasha had spent almost an hour applying. Pietro was hovering just out of sight in the alleyway, nearly vibrating out of his skin, as he always did when he had to stand still for longer than a few minutes.

“Oh, it’s definitely a trap,” Becca said in his ear cheerfully. “But that just means we’re making them nervous—means we’re closer than we thought we were.”

Steve sighed.

She was right, of course. The intel had come rather unexpectedly—while they’d been able to clear Sharon of the murder she’d been accused of, it’d been more by chance than by design of any kind. They’d stumbled across footage of Sharon at a gas station nearly forty miles away at the time of the murder, and through the footage several witnesses who swore she’d been there.

The matter had been dropped relatively quickly after that.

Still, whoever was running this show was good—good enough that Tony’s various algorithms and even J.A.R.V.I.S. hadn’t been able to pick up on much more than the vague pattern that Natasha had initially noticed. There were more cases like Sharon’s, and though the investigation against her had been dropped, and she had clearly had a lot of fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and all of the Avengers in her corner, there were a lot of rumors still flying around about Sharon’s supposed involvement with her informant’s untimely and rather gruesome death.

Steve still wasn’t sure how it’d benefit a shadowy terrorist organisation to discredit one agent—no matter how good Sharon was—but he assumed there was a reason.

There were at least half a dozen other cases that J.A.R.V.I.S. and Nat had flagged as suspicious that hit mysterious dead ends: one former A.I.M. scientist turned S.H.I.E.L.D. informant who’d been on the verge of revealing something big vanishing off the face of the Earth; a STRIKE team getting massacred after being given faulty information on an infiltration mission that should’ve been easy; and a U.S. senator who’d been known for her progressive style changing her tune entirely seemingly overnight…

Even the sudden suicide of a popular, if somewhat reclusive, wealthy murder mystery writer had pinged on their radars—the man had been researching the inner workings of police stations and its politics, and had, one week prior to his apparent suicide, rewritten his will to leave his entire family out of it, donating his entire estate, worth an estimated 60 million dollars, at least, to assorted police stations in his home state, and several police officers specifically.

Something was going on, on a large and likely unprecedented scale, and Steve wasn’t sure they were ready to figure out just how big this thing was.

They even had a mole in S.H.I.E.L.D.

One relatively high up the chain of command too, if the sort of information they had access to was any indication—Sharon’s real identity had been classified to hell and back for years. Her deep-cover missions were more intense than Natasha’s half the time, and she hadn’t gone by her own name for longer than a few weeks since she’d joined S.H.I.E.LD.

“All set,” Becca said quietly, breaking him from his musings, drawing his attention back to the security footage, showing Natasha having moved into position too.

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “Here we go.”

He switched back to their shared comms channel and watched as Wanda added a sugar packet to her teacup with calculated, graceful movements, stirring the spoon in the hot liquid before she sipped, taking the time to glance around the square surreptitiously as she did.

He barely suppressed a proud smile as she clocked several hidden gunmen—two of which he hadn’t noticed himself—and whispered their location to her brother, who moved to get them out of the way before anyone could so much as blink.

“Alright,” he said into the comms as soon as Pietro had taken the men out of commission. “Good job, guys. Wanda, keep going; what do you see?”

“Standard beat cops,” Wanda said slowly, talking into her cup so no one would see her lips move. “Small station, quiet street. Pretty good target, I can see why they picked it.”

Steve nodded. “There’s an ATM in the south corner, which means…”

“Cameras,” Wanda finished, glancing briefly towards the aforementioned corner before she returned her attention to the building in front of her. The info they’d gotten pointed to either the little police station or the Center for Infectious Diseases being hit by the as-of-yet nameless terrorist group they’d been chasing for the past six or so months.

Steve personally thought it’d be the CfID, not the little police station, but since the intel hadn’t been clear on it, they couldn’t risk losing their only chance to get their hands on whoever was planning this.

Especially considering they couldn’t find anything more concrete than a vague suspicion that things weren’t adding up. They—Pepper—had negotiated their presence there with the Nigerian government, keeping their interference on the absolute downlow.

Not even S.H.I.E.L.D. had been told.

“Both cross streets are one way,” Becca added over the comms, and Steve watched as Wanda and Pietro, once again hidden in the shadows, checked the street reflexively.

“Compromised escape route,” Pietro muttered, accent thicker still than his sister’s.

Steve nodded along. “Yep. Means our guy doesn’t care about being seen—not afraid to make a mess on the way out. A big departure from their usual M.O.”

It was true—these guys seemed to operate entirely from the shadows in every other way, and Steve wasn’t sure what it meant for them if they decided they were ready to step out of said shadows.

“It’s suspicious,” Becca insisted. “See that Range Rover halfway up the block, Wanda?”

“Yeah, the red one?” Wanda sipped her tea again. “It’s cute.”

Nat chuckled across the comms and said, “It’s also bulletproof. Probably private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for someone—probably us.”

“Plates aren’t registered,” Becca piped in. “J.A.R.V.I.S. is hacking into a few more databases to see if he can find that make and model listed anywhere, but it’s slow-going.” She huffed in annoyance. “There’s way too many red Range Rovers in Nigeria, what the hell.”

“Eyes on the target,” Steve reminded them sternly. “This is the best lead we’ve had in months. I don’t want to lose it.”

“Aye aye cap’n,” Natasha quipped semi-seriously, and Steve laughed along with the others despite himself.

“Tony’s almost there, in case you guys need him,” Becca reminded them, “and he’s being whiny about not being on the same comms channel, so if I let him in, will you play nice?”

Steve gasped playfully. “Why, Becca, I’m offended by the implication. I always play nice.”

“You’re a little shit, Rogers,” Becca told him, before something clicked and Tony’s voice became audible. “—and I mean, I can totally dig the seriousness of this mission, I’m cool, I’m just saying a little AC/DC never hurt anyone.”

“A little AC/DC would definitely hurt now,” Steve replied, eyeing the street before him again.

“Capsicle!” Tony exclaimed. “Congrats on the coming out! Papers are all over it. The U.S. is losing its shit. I applaud you, my good man. I’ll order you a cake when we get home. Bi-pride colors and everything. We can invite Aunt Peg and Aunt Becky. Also, I think FOX News is having a meltdown. Or going on lockdown. Not sure which would be more entertaining, honestly,” he hummed happily.

Steve stopped short. “What?”

“What?” Natasha and Wanda and Pietro echoed.

“Right,” Becca said slowly. “You left right after Chicago.”

Steve’s stomach sank. “Oh, fuck,” he said empathically.

Tony gasped theatrically. “Captain, language.”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve bit out, before sighing and rubbing a hand over his forehead. “How much of a headache is this gonna be? It just kinda slipped out.”

“Eh,” Tony said, surprisingly gentle. “I’ve caused bigger headaches. I think the conservative, racist part of the country is having a meltdown, because they can’t use you as a poster-boy for their ass backwards shit anymore, but most people are cool with it. Applauding you for being brave enough to come out for who you and Barnes were—and talking shit about the reporter that bullied you into making that grandiose speech in the first place.”

Steve groaned.

“Steve,” Becca said quietly. “You’re fine. No one is going to judge you, and people that do are really not worth your time or your consideration.”

“Uh,” Tony said. “While I totally agree, and hate to break up the moment… There’s a large group of people moving in the CfID—like abnormally. I can only see heat signatures, but I’m willing to bet these guys are armed. I’m thinking our terrorists might already be here.”

“Becca,” Steve barked, moving out the door and down the stairs of their look-out apartment before Tony had even stopped talking.

“Hacking into security cams now,” Becca replied immediately.

“Pietro, get Natasha and Wanda inside,” Steve ordered. “Then come back for me. Don’t be seen.”

“Yep,” Pietro said shortly, and Steve heard the slight rush of fast-moving air as the boy started moving.

By the time Steve’d reached street level, the other three were gone, and he barely had time to blink before Pietro blurred back into sight before him, grinning wildly. “Ready, Captain?” he asked, before putting his hands on Steve’s shoulders and moving.

The world blurred and moved, and his head spun wildly before Pietro came to a stop, hidden behind a large pillar, only a few feet from where Nat and Wanda stood, readying themselves for a fight.

Nat’s Widow’s Bites were sparking, and Wanda’s hands were already encased with that tell-tale ominous red energy. Steve checked that the straps of his shield were tight enough on his arm, and then nodded at the two women. “Definitely body armor. Possibly AR-15s—likely hand guns and knives too. I make seven hostiles,” he whispered, glancing towards the men dressed in black tac gear.

Natasha huffed and moved forwards, launching herself into the air by a graceful jump off a chair—she landed on two of the men, taking them down in a tangle of limbs and electric current, their choked off screams echoing eerily in the building.

Steve moved before the other men had had the chance to react to Nat’s sudden attack, lobbing the shield towards two of the other men, who had raised their guns to Nat immediately, knocking both of them clean off their feet. The man that stood next to them shouted in alarm, but before he could do so much as raise his gun, he was tackled to the ground by a blur of movement, and then fastened in place by an eerie red glow that spread, quickly, to encompass all other men, freezing their limbs in place.

“Good job,” Steve told Wanda when she appeared from behind the relative safety of the pillar, eyes glowing as red as the mist encompassing her hands.

“I can’t hold them long,” she told him calmly. “Natasha, you should cuff them so I can let go.”

Natasha was already moving, pulling handcuffs from wherever she managed to stash them in her skin tight outfit, when someone let out a strangled, “Stop!”

Steve spun around, finding one of the men had managed to move enough to pull his helmet off, revealing—

“Brock?” Steve said incredulously.

“What?” Becca demanded in his ear, as Natasha stepped up beside him, eyeing Brock Rumlow, who was held immobile by Wanda’s red magic in what looked like a very uncomfortable position, with a considering expression.

“What the fuck?” the other man demanded when Wanda released him after Steve nodded at her, collapsing on his knees before he managed to steady himself. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” Natasha countered. “No one is supposed to be here.”

“We got a tip,” Rumlow spat. “Jesus, Romanoff, we’re meant to catch some terrorist group that the higher ups are really interested in. You better fucking hope you didn’t scare them away! Now fucking let my STRIKE guys loose.” He glared at Wanda, who bit her lip and looked at Steve first, waiting for his approval before she did as Rumlow said and released the other men.

A chorus of groans and muffled curses followed their release, and a small part of Steve felt a little smug that Wanda had been able to keep at least ten guys—a full fucking STRIKE team—down without visibly breaking a sweat.

Take that, every asshole who ever dared imply she didn’t deserve her spot on the team.

“He’s telling the truth,” Becca said hesitantly. “I’ve got the paperwork here. J.A.R.V.I.S. just hacked into the S.H.I.E.L.D. servers. Orders came straight from Maria—probably from Fury or Pierce before it came to her. It looks legit, Steve. They got the same tip we did.”

Steve exchanged a glance with Natasha, who had her arms crossed over her chest, staring down each of Rumlow’s STRIKE guys with a blank expression that he knew was tailor-made to scare the shit out of even the bravest of men. Judging by their expressions, Rumlow’s guys may not be the bravest of men.

She just lifted one eyebrow at him, and Becca suggested, “Maybe tell him some of the truth?”

Steve exhaled slowly.

“We also got a tip,” he told Rumlow. “Couple of hours ago. It came directly to us, seemed urgent. We contacted the Nigerian government directly and flew in. We didn’t want to risk losing these guys.”

Rumlow scoffed. “So urgent you couldn’t notify S.H.I.E.L.D. at all?”

“Tell him we told Fury,” Tony butted in. “Becca, J.A.R.V.I.S. will make it happen.”

Steve didn’t question their decision to fudge the truth. They’d established Avengers Black Op on this entire mission for a reason, and much as Steve enjoyed beating the man up during his mandatory hand-to-hand combat sessions, Brock did not make the cut for trusted individuals.

Not even Sharon had made the cut.

“We notified Fury,” he said, shrugging. “Didn’t hear back from him, and the Nigerian government had already given us permission to be here, so…”

“Damn it. They should’ve run it through us, man,” Brock grumbled. “Could’ve saved us this whole thing.” He glanced toward the two men Steve had knocked to the ground and the man Nat had tased with her Widow’s bites, and groaned. “Paperwork’s going to be a bitch.”

Steve hung his head.

He hated to say it, but Brock was right, damn it.

“Get them out,” Rumlow told Rollins, who Steve had worked with on occasion, and a fresh-faced kid who was likely a new recruit, gesturing to the three men that were still on the floor. “Make sure they get medical attention and that you’re not seen.” He glanced towards Steve and the others and heaved a sigh, “tell Hill we got back up from the Avengers.”

“Actually,” Becca drawled, “Hill just sent me an Avengers Assemble alert. Looks like there’s… something going on a couple of miles from where you guys are. Some guy called…” she hesitated and then snorted, “Killmonger? I dunno, he’s American special ops, but he called in for help not even a minute ago, something about a crazy man with voodoo powers taking out his whole team. We’re the closest back-up he’s got.”

Steve groaned. “Alright. Tony, fly ahead, scope out the situation, see what’s what. Pietro—”

“Aye aye, Cap,” the young man quipped, before pressing a lightning quick kiss to his sister’s cheek and blurring out of sight.

“We got an Assemble alert,” he told Rumlow reluctantly. “Becca’s informed S.H.I.E.L.D. you need more back-up, but if anything goes sideways, hail us, yeah? Pietro or Stark can be here before you can even blink if you need them.”

Rumlow nodded. “Yeah. Let’s hope we haven’t managed to chase away our mark.”

“Let’s hope not,” Steve agreed, before turning to Nat and Wanda, nodding his head towards the exit.

He wasn’t sure how they’d managed to get their wires crossed so intensely, because he could’ve sworn J.A.R.V.I.S. had checked S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database for similar tips beforehand, but there wasn’t anything for it now. There was possibly something more going on, someone playing them all, pulling on their strings like they were nothing but puppets, but he didn’t have time to figure it out now.

Someone needed their help.

Rumlow, S.H.I.E.L.D., and everything else could wait.

———————

Fox News (@FoxNews) 36 min.

BREAKING: Captain America comes out of the closet? Has this national hero been lying to the country, or did he simply misspeak? Surely @captainRogers will clarify this misunderstanding soon.

Steve Rogers — Captain America (@CaptainRogers) 2 min.

@FoxNews Did I fucking stutter?

———————

Brooklyn V.A. Medical center, Brooklyn, New York, United States of America

April 20

th

, 2016Steve

Steve just barely managed to squeeze himself into the tiny little bathroom stall of the V.A. center with Becca, gamely holding his breath as well as Becca’s hair as she retched into the toilet after an unfortunate incident involving the snack table for the meeting and a stray sandwich with blue cheese.

“Ugh,” Becca groaned miserably, leaning back and wiping her mouth on a wad of toilet paper before dropping it in the toilet and flushing it. “I thought this part was supposed to be over.”

Steve smiled lightly and tugged her close so her head could rest back against his shoulder.

“From what I remember,” Steve said slowly, keeping his voice level and calm to help Becca calm down—because he remembered how much throwing up triggered Becca sometimes, and he knew how difficult the first few weeks of the pregnancy had been for her, how relieved she’d been when the morning sickness had finally abated—rubbing his hand over the swell of her stomach softly. “It can come up any time. My mom used to say it was because your senses are heightened, primed to notice anything that could be a danger to the baby.”

“That’s a nice thought, actually,” Becca nodded. “I don’t think I mind being sick if it keeps the baby safe.”

Steve smiled and leaned his cheek against Becca’s temple. “Well, I hope for your sake that you don’t have to be sick anymore.”

“Me too,” Becca hummed.

They sat quietly for a few more minutes before Becca gasped, suddenly, looking down at her belly with wide eyes. “Look,” she told him urgently, tugging on his arm urgently until he moved, and they were sitting opposite one another with their backs against the walls of the stall, Becca’s legs curled underneath her and Steve’s awkwardly stretched out.

Becca pulled up her shirt a little, revealing the pale expanse of her stomach, littered with little silvery stretch marks and a few dark, puckered marks that she tended to hide otherwise. Today, though, the marks seemed the last thing on Becca’s mind, because she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her stomach again, just next to her belly button. “Look,” she insisted.

Steve dropped his eyes to her stomach as well, and he couldn’t really stop the gasp that fell from his lips when, suddenly, the outline of what was clearly a tiny foot pressed out into Becca’s skin just above his fingertips, remaining there for a few seconds before it disappeared again. “Shit,” he laughed, looking up at his friend with a grin, “that’s so weird. And cool.” He looked down again, but the little foot did not make another appearance. “You’re actually growing a person in there,” he added breathlessly.

Becca snorted and shoved at him. “What, did you think I stuffed a watermelon under my shirt before now? You’ve felt them kick before.” She elbowed him in the side and chuckled, “You’ve read more of the parenting books than any of us have.”

“Well,” Steve spluttered, a little embarrassed, “yeah. But this is different.”

Becca laughed again, but it wasn’t mean or mocking, and Steve grinned too, despite himself.

“Steven? Rebecca?”

Thor’s voice was loud enough to drift through the walls even when he was clearly trying to be quiet, and Steve grinned at Becca when she perked up immediately.

“In here,” Steve said, raising his voice just a little—Thor’s hearing was just as good, if not better than Steve’s—as he moved to help Becca back to her feet.

Thor pushed open the door to the bathroom and leaned on the doorjamb, smiling at them lightly, although his forehead was creased into a slightly concerned frown. “Everyone alright?” he asked casually, reaching out to Becca as soon as she was within reach.

Becca grimaced but nodded, leaning into Thor’s touch gratefully. “Blue cheese,” she said, nose wrinkling in disgust, and Thor made a small sound of comprehension, needing no further explanation after the last time Becca had encountered blue cheese in the common room of the Tower, and instead rubbing his hand over her back in a soothing gesture.

“You ready, Steve?” Becca asked, turning back to him with a grin.

“Born ready,” he said confidently.

——————

Steve was absolutely not ready.

He fidgeted, his hands trembling just shy of imperceptibly when he took the microphone from Sam. The room was about as filled as it usually was for the Thursday V.A. meeting, but the thought of ‘sharing’ still reminded him of the feeling he’d had when Senator Brandt had first thrust him into the spotlight on a stage somewhere in Philadelphia, when he’d wanted nothing more than to run away, to hide so no one could see him ever again.

He’d been wishing to be seen for most of his life at that point, had wished that people would see and notice him, but it’d been nothing like he’d thought it would be.

He’d made a promise to Sam though, and he wasn’t going to back out.

Becca and Thor were tucked into a corner of the room, Thor’s hands absently rubbing across Becca’s belly while Becca smiled encouragingly. She’d shared with the group the previous week, and it’d broken Steve up to hear, first-hand, the things people had done to her—before, during and after her capture—but she hadn’t been the only one.

There’d been a young man, too young to have the same kind of shadows lingering behind his eyes that they all seemed to, who came up to her afterwards, who thanked her for sharing, and for reminding them that… that it was possible to build a life afterwards.

That it was possible to learn how to live and be happy again.

Steve had diligently pretended Becca wasn’t crying when they walked home, but he’d held her hand and hugged her close when she’d asked him to anyway.

He’d told himself that sharing what had happened to him might help someone else. He’d told Sam the same, and Sam had held him to it, inviting him up to speak after everyone who’d volunteered had had their chance to speak, because “No one wants to follow your act, Rogers.”

Steve swallowed thickly and glanced at the expectant, curious faces of their group. “Hi,” he finally said, voice cracking with nerves. “I’m sure all of you know who I am.” He grinned lightly and added, “I usually lurk in the back with my friend, eating all of the donuts, like the creepers we actually are.”

That got a couple of scattered laughs, and Becca shot him a thumbs up from her corner.

Steve exhaled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the lectern that stood at the front of the room. “I’m Steve,” he began. “I’m thirty-two, and I went to war when I was twenty-four, and sometimes it feels like I’ve never left it behind. Sometimes it feels like I never will.” There were a few understanding murmurs, and something loosened slightly in his chest.

He could do this.

“I went to war because I had to,” he continued, chewing on his lower lip. “Because there were good, healthy people dying on the front lines every day, fighting to defend us, our families, and I was dying anyway, so what right did I have to do any less than them?” He swallowed thickly. “I was dying anyway, and I wanted my death to have more meaning than my life had.”

The room had gone utterly silent, and Steve didn’t dare look up, for fear he’d lose his nerve.

“It’s a funny thing,” he continued, “to be so aware of your own mortality. I wasn’t even very angry about the unfairness of it anymore. Buck—my—the love of my life,” he admitted, still a little shy to be so public about something so private, “he was angry. He was the sweetest guy you’d ever meet, charming and handsome and kind, but he was so fucking angry at God and the universe and whatever else there was, because I was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do about it… and then they called him to war too.”

Steve blinked back a tear, a little startled by how emotional he felt, by how hard recalling the memories was. “And he went,” he said. “He went, and what else could I do than everything I could to either follow him, or to die trying?” He looked up, briefly catching Becca’s shiny eyes before his gaze fell to Sam. Sam, who’d supported him, who hadn’t let their rough start at a friendship get in the way—who understood in a way even Becca never had.

“The machine they used to give me all of this—” He gestured vaguely at his body. “It looked like a coffin.”

There were a few gasps from the group, but no one interrupted when he continued, “And I thought it would be mine. There had been seventeen test subjects before me.” He looked down. “I was the only one to ever survive, but I didn’t know that when I went in. I thought I was going to be number eighteen, the one they could hopefully learn from, so they could help people.”

“Obviously,” he said with a weak smile, “it worked. And I went, and I fought, tooth and nail, for the life I’d been real eager to leave behind, for Bucky and his sisters, for his family—my family. I fought for everyone that couldn’t, for everyone we’d already lost, and for once, I felt like a hero.” He stopped and looked down, noting that his hands were shaking so bad he could barely hold the microphone without hitting himself in the face.

“When Bucky—the mission we were on—” He shook his head and lowered the microphone, breathing in deeply to regain some measure of composure. Because, while no one here would judge him, he wouldn’t be able to finish if he let himself cry now. “He saved my life, like he always did, like he’d been doing since we were both four feet tall and getting into fights with people twice our size. I got knocked down and he picked up my shield, and—” Steve choked lightly, tears running down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them at bay. “We were both nearly blown off the side of the train,” he said hoarsely. “I thought—God, for a second, I thought I had him. He managed to hang on by a railing, and I was so close. His—his fingers brushed past mine when it broke off and he fell.”

The room was deathly silent, and when he looked up, he saw that several other people were nodding, crying, knowing. “I almost fell,” Steve admitted. “I almost fell too. Sometimes I wish I had.”

He was quiet for a few seconds before he whispered, “Grief… Grief is a funny thing. Grief shatters something inside of you that you didn’t know could shatter, and it seeps into the cracks, like water that slowly freezes, slowly expands into ice until it’s all you can feel—until you can’t even remember what it felt like to live without the cracks, without the grief filling up that space. I didn’t… after Bucky fell, I lost my mind a little. I froze… long before I put the Valkyrie in the ice. I fought, and I killed, and I didn’t care that I was doing it, because every single Hydra soldier was one that was responsible for the love of my life dying alone at the bottom of a ravine. The Valkyrie…” He shook his head and sighed. “Putting down the Valkyrie was a relief, because at least it meant that whatever was going to happen, Bucky would be waiting for me on the other side.”

He swallowed. “And then I woke up here. And whatever soul, whatever heart I had left, it shattered further; the grief, the ice spread further, because everyone was gone. Everyone I’d ever known, everyone I’d ever loved—even the country I’d died for. Everything.”

He exhaled shakily and looked up, meeting Becca’s teary gaze, and managing a weak smile.

“I made it through. I made it through because I still had family that needed me, that missed me, that knew me, and that refused to give up on me even when I had.” He deliberately looked at every member of their group. “Including the Valkyrie, I tried to take my own life six times. I tried to leave, tried to give up what Bucky had died to give me—and I still think about it sometimes. I’m not always okay. I sit out missions that I know will trigger me, I have three different therapists, and I have an unrelenting support network. I’m lucky—so many of us don’t have all of that. But I want you, at least, to know that you do as well. I’m just one man, even with my name and reputation, and there’s only so much I can do—but when any of us, any of you need support, even if it’s just a shoulder to cry on…”

He shrugged one shoulder and smiled. “They’re a lot bigger and stronger than they used to be. I promise there’s room to help you shoulder your burden. I want you to know that you have that support. I thought I had no one for the longest time, even surrounded by friends and family, and I don’t wish that feeling on anyone.”

He looked down again and sighed. “The ice… the grief doesn’t go away,” he admitted. “Not really. But you learn. You learn to breathe with it, rather than against it, you learn how to cope, even when you can’t understand, and that’s all anyone can ask of you. Even on days when it feels like you’ll never leave the war behind, even when things are at its bleakest, there’s going to be better days. There’s always people that’ll care, that’ll miss you, that’ll need you.”

He squared his jaw and promised, “And when you have no one, I’ll be your someone. We will be your people. We’ll miss you. We’ll need you, and we’ll drag you through hell, to show you how good life is on the other side. You’re never alone.”

——————

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: (1)

Dancing with a Limp:

(1) (2)

Chances:

(1)

Starting Over:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

[queeruma]

Okay, so an anon sent me this ask:

Can I ask if canon materials say anything about Uma and Ursula’s relationship? Do you have hcs about it? I never read the third Descendant book so I don’t know much about her

and I wrote up this post, posted it, immediately realised that tumblr had fucked up all the formatting, deleted it, and then realised that by deleting it I’d also deleted the ask. I’m sorry anon, my brain is not functioning properly, but here’s my answer, hopefully formatted correctly this time:

Hi anon! So I thought I could answer this in like 10 minutes, and then it turned out that I have a Lot of thoughts about Uma and Ursula’s relationship, and here we are almost two days later (this post kind of just turns into Uma hcs at the end sorry about that)

Yes, between the movie, Rise, and Uma's Wicked Book, there's actually quite a lot of information about Uma and her mother.

Under a cut because this got long:

Within the actual text: Uma's relationship with her mother is… complicated, to say the least.

On the one hand, Ursula is about as far from a loving, caring mother as one can get. She has been forcing Uma to work for her, without pay, since Uma was 'so little she could barely see about the counter'. She is verbally abusive, berating Uma and humiliating her over her losses to Mal, and we see in the film that she's not above harming Uma physically either. And Uma seems certain when she's speaking to Ben that her mother does not care for her at all.

"All those days spent working at Ma’s restaurant, serving up gruel and scrubbing the floors, and I’ve never gotten paid a coin.” - UWB “Uma had worked at the Fish and Chips Shoppe her entire life, from when she was so little she could barely see above the counter, until she was old enough to wear an apron, carry a tray, and take an order.” - ROTIOTL “Uma was glad to have the place to herself. If Ursula were around, she would only be raging and complaining about how she had been saddled with such an ungrateful and useless daughter. Ursula never ceased to remind Uma how often she’d lost to Mal. When she’d learned Mal had been chosen to go to Auradon, Ursula flipped her tentacles. Uma never heard the end of it.” - ROTIOTL “Things I wouldn’t miss about the Isle: (...) Ma yelling at me” - UWB “My mom doesn’t care about me either. Well, not unless she needs someone for the night shift.” - D2

On the other hand, we see a certain level of respect between the two of them. Uma seems to be proud of her mother's strength, and is very comfortable showing her heritage as 'daughter of the sea witch'. Despite her mother's treatment of her, we never see Uma being afraid of her mother (contrast with the core four in the first movie, who definitely are). Uma remembers her mother taking her to Hook's inlet to watch the crocodile wrestling, and (repeatedly) telling her the story of her defeat at Eric and Ariel's hands. She states that her mother taught her about the importance of negotiation. Ursula, lamenting over her loss in her final battle, tells Uma that they would be 'Queens of the Seas' if she'd won. Given that unlike most of the villains, Ursula doesn't seem to be trying to manipulate Uma into anything in particular, I take this to mean that Ursula would have given her daughter what she felt was her due.

And, most importantly, Ursula has one single piece of her nautilus necklace left when she's on the Isle, and she gives it to Uma when Uma is a small child. Uma likes to hold it when she's feeling anxious. There's clearly more than just antagonism between them.

‘Uma was special: she was the sea witch’s daughter, a force to be reckoned with!’ - ROTIOTL 'The gold was warm against her skin, and she felt a faint echo of its former power. It had the sense and shape of her mother's wrath.' - ROTIOTL “No, last I saw her was on the news when she was blasting you with her magic!” Ursula laughed. “Good for her!” - EFTIOTL “That’s my mom! At least Maleficent recognised her power.” - MSB ‘“Mama was really something, wasn’t she? Back then?” said Uma.’ - ROTIOTL “Ma used to take me down to Hook’s Inlet when I was a kid, and we’d bet on the crocodile-wrestling matches there.” - UWB 'She recalled her mother telling her about that final battle (…) Prince Eric had taken the wheel and rammed his ship right into her heart (…) Uma always held her breath at that part of the story, wondering how it was that her mother had survived such a battle. Because even though she'd lost, she'd survived. Prince Eric hadn't destroyed her completely.' - ROTIOTL ‘Her mother had taught her about the power of negotiation, or as she’d described it, talking someone out of their greatest treasures and giving nothing of value in return.’ - ROTIOTL 'Queens of the seas, Ursula would lament. We would be queens of the seas if not for that awful Triton and that terrible Beast.' - ROTIOTL ‘(...) the locket she wore around her neck. Inside was a tiny piece of junk that her mother had given her as a child. “It’s all I have left,” Ursula had said at the time. Uma never understood why a sliver of metal mattered so much, but she liked holding it when she was anxious.’ - ROTIOTL

I think Uma's outfits also say a lot about her relationship with her mother. The core four pretty much exclusively wear their parent's colours, even after they've rejected them. We already know that colour means a lot in these movies, considering the thought they put into the shades of purple in Mal's hair and clothes in D1. Every VK either wears their parent's colours - Harry, Celia and the core four - or they don't resemble their families at all - Gil and Dizzy.

Uma's purple undertone, her hair and skirt resembling octopus arms, and the mesh undershirt with holes that mimics octopus suckers are all there to reflect her status as Ursula's daughter. She's proud of her heritage - but there's probably a practical reason as well: there's an element of protection in reminding people of her mother.

However, I think it's telling that her main aesthetic and colour are all her own. The pirate hat, the tough leather jacket complete with epaulets, the chunky belts, her sword, and the overall teal theme, all make it very clear that Uma is her own person, and no one who looks at her is going to forget it. She's not going to ride by on her mother's reputation all her life - people will know her name, not just her parentage.

Her symbol also demonstrates this mix of nature and nurture. Mal, Evie, Carlos, Jay, Harry, and Gil all have symbols that refer directly to their parents (Gil signs off UWB with a bow and arrow, presumably a reference to his father's skill at hunting). In contrast, the skull and crossbones - crossbones in this case being a trident and sword - with a wave in one cheek, an eyepatch, and octopus arms below it is 'the unofficial symbol of Uma, daughter of Ursula - pirate queen'.

--

As far as headcanons are concerned, I can’t really list them? I just have a kind of general ‘this is how Ursula affected the way Uma’s life went’ hc:

I think all of Uma’s better memories of her mother are from her very early childhood. By the time Uma and Mal stop being friends, Ursula has already pretty much checked out of everything; I don’t think she ever tries to manipulate Uma in the way Maleficent and the other villains do their children. She leaves the work in the shoppe to Uma and retreats into her Auradon soap operas. Uma is used to seeing other parents on the Isle put effort into their relationships with their children (that is never actually a Good Thing but baby Uma doesn’t know what decent parenting is) and she wonders if Ursula’s lack of manipulation is her mother neglecting her because she sees her as worthless.

So Uma kind of decides that she’s going to be as independent as possible, because if she makes her distance from her mother her choice, she doesn’t have to confront the possibility that Ursula is neglecting her because Uma isn’t good enough for her. And because I loathe the canon Uma and Mal backstory with the passion of an anti-vax parent for essential oils, here’s my take on it (credit for the idea that Maleficent encouraged Mal to end their friendship goes to @edream93 in her wonderful fic ‘We’ll Light the Fuse’ - it partly inspired this hc):

Uma and Mal were good friends from a very young age, and there was some genuine affection and trust between them, which Maleficent obviously did not approve of at all.

She allowed it for a while because they did get into a lot of trouble together, but as Uma drifted further away from her mother, she became concerned about Uma’s influence on Mal.

See, Uma might have started out distancing herself from her mother to protect her own feelings, but she also actually began to care less about her mother’s opinion of her.

Maleficent, who wanted Mal firmly under her control, knew that if the two girls stayed friends, Uma might encourage Mal to question her mother’s authority.

And if there’s one person on the Isle talented at subtlety and manipulation, it’s Maleficent. Mal and Uma’s friendship was doomed to end the second Maleficent decided she wanted it to.

I also think Ursula’s F- parenting plays into Uma’s feelings about Auradon. Uma is genuinely right about the Isle - it is unfair and morally abhorrent that the children of villains are fated to live in a ‘fate worse than death’ for the crime of being born to the wrong people. She and the other descendants of villains unquestionably do not deserve to be there.

But Uma’s desire for freedom and revenge isn’t just based on her rational disapproval of the Isle. It comes from a huge amount of anger and pain, and it’s admirable that she manages to use those negative feelings (along with her love for and loyalty to her crew) to motivate herself. She is equally furious and terrified - Auradon abandoned her, Mal abandoned her, her own MOTHER abandoned her - and either she didn’t deserve it, in which case she has to be angry at basically the whole world, or she did, in which case...

yeah, she tries not to think about that.

Luckily, between her friendship with Harry and Gil and the loyalty and respect she gets from her crew, more often than not she’s able to believe that she deserved better she deserves so much better she deserves the whole fuCKING WORLD.

Ultimately, Uma is a very practical person, and any feelings she has about her mother, positive or negative, will not stop her from getting off the Isle and going after what she wants - whatever that ends up being. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the octopus-inspired elements and purple undertones of her D2 look are gone in D3.

[toxykmystic]

Day 6- @takaritsuweek

Confession

As promised, Ritsu treated the team to drinks at their usual izakaya. He paid for all the snacks too because he was in such a good mood. The only problem he foresaw with this bout of generosity was Kisa-san, who despite being the smallest guy in the group, could really pack away the drinks. “Someone’s going to have to carry you home if you keep it up Kisa-san…” Ritsu remarked with a smirk over the rim of the mug of beer he was nursing. He did not want to get drunk tonight but it seemed as if Kisa had no such inhibitions.

“Wahhh! So mean Ricchan! You promised alllll the drinks were on you! Don’t back out on me now!” Kisa attempted to say but it was mostly squeals and slurs that made the others chuckle at his antics.

Ritsu giggled softly and rested his cheek in his palm as he leaned against the table and used his chopsticks to stir the plate of yakisoba before him. He hadn’t tried to sit as far from Takano as he usually did, he’d actually taken the seat right next to him, much to the apparent surprise to his boss. “You should try the yakisoba, it’s actually really good Takano-san.” popping some of the noodles into his mouth, the flavor tingling on his tongue.

Masamune noted the change in Ritsu and to be honest it was making him a little nervous. It seemed too good to be true, since they’d been struggling for so long and over the last couple of days it appeared that they’d taken leaps and bounds in reaching the goal he’d been dreaming of for so long. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but then Ritsu had been looking at him more and more throughout the day, as if he was trying to figure something out or he was coming to some sort of decision. Well, at least after he’d calmed down about that stupid stunt that Isaka-san had pulled scaring his former kouhai to death. He’d thought for a while that he’d have to rush the man to the hospital with how badly it had shaken him. “Give me a bite then.” he plucked up and piece of his tebasaki and started to poked the fried chicken against Ritsu’s mouth, he could see the annoyance in those green eyes before he snatched the crispy bite from his chopsticks with his teeth, chewing it slowly and then making a ‘Mmm’ sound before he started to poke at the rest of his deep fried chicken wings, “Oi! What about me?” he frowned at the younger man.

Ritsu grinned at him, arching a brow, “Am I your Momma?” he seemed to remember Takano saying something similar to him once and couldn’t resist. Oh, the look on his face, it made Ritsu laugh as he stole more of his tebasaki while Takano began to attack his yakisoba in retaliation.

Hatori and Mino were having a conversation on the far side of the table but stopped to look at the pair when they started to cause a ruckus, light shoving and food swiping in full swing, “You two should get a room…” Mino chimed in brightly, a creepy smile as always on his lips.

“Indeed…” Hatori agreed as he checked his phone for messages from his air-headed boyfriend. He really needed that manuscript, if history was going to repeat itself, Ritsu should be going into mini-demon mode in three days tops.

“Awww, you’re so cute!” Kisa cried with tears in his eyes, sniffling as he thought of Yukina, “so does this mean you guys are finally dating?” dabbing at his dark eyes with a napkin before he started to guzzled down another beer.

Ritsu had a hand planted against Takano’s cheek, pushing him away as he tried to steal another piece of chicken. Blinking as he looked at his co-workers, “Eh? Um…” well, he wasn’t expecting that at all! They had to be joking just because they were acting as if they were friends instead of mortal enemies as was the usual routine for the brunette. Deciding to roll with it, the beer had loosened him up and he wanted to talk about this with Takano anyway, “That’s up to Takano-san”

He’d said it so casually that Masamune didn’t catch it at first. When his brain caught up he stared at his subordinate in shock while the rest of the team laughed as if it was a joke. Ritsu was sitting there as if he hadn’t said anything, sipping at his drink and nibbling on his yakisoba. He got up from his seat at the table and took hold of Onodera and started to drag him from the room, “We’ll be right back.” maybe. The Emerald editors still seated stared at the pair in surprise as the Editor-in-Chief hustled their newest member out of the room. “oOOo” Kisa and Mino sang in unison before busting out into laughter.

“Eh! Takano-san! I have to pay the bill!” Ritsu tried planting his feet but it was no use. He was surprised when Takano turned towards the bar and motioned to the bartender.

“Tab room 4 to Takano Masamune and let my guests know everything is taken care of… you can pay me back Onodera,” and now he was dragging the younger man out the front door of the Izakaya. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he felt a little light headed to be honest. Once he was out the doors he pulled the squawking Onodera down the street until they were alone on the sidewalk, breathing heavily he turned to pin the man with his golden brown eyes. “What did that mean back there, it’s up to me?” he spoke in a breathless tone.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to say that right then, but he’d had a couple beers and it just sort of slipped out. His cheeks were rosy as he tried to look away from Takano-san, attempting to free his wrist from that tight grasp. “I was wanting to talk about this somewhere a little more private, I didn’t mean to say that back there…” he muttered in embarrassment, looking around as if someone was going to jump out of the shadows. Peeking up at Takano and seeing that he wasn’t going to move a muscle, looking at him in expectation that only made Ritsu fidget all the more. “Well, you see… um…” his blush more than evident under the street lamps. “We need to talk because, uh…” he was shaking, why was this so painful, nearly physically so? “I ...I…. Never stopped loving you! I tried to fight it but it was no use and I really don’t want to anymore, it hurts too much!” Ritsu gave a choked sob and pressed a hand to his face, his soft hair obscuring most of it from view. Dead silence from the other and Ritsu couldn’t bear to look, tears surging into his eyes and rolling freely down his burning cheeks. “The problem is, I.. I can’t date my boss! So, so.. You have to choose!!” his voice was rising as he tried to force out the rest of his words finally looking up at Takano-san as he cried, “You can choose to be my boss or my boyf..friend… my p..p..pride won’t allow both. You have to pick one or the other Takano-san!” his voice was all scratchy now as he wondered if he had made a huge mistake. But he couldn’t deny that it felt as if a huge weight was lifted off of his chest and he could breathe again.

And then he couldn’t breathe, because Takano was crushing him in an embrace. Holding him so tightly that he could feel his ribs creaking under the stress. But he didn’t fight it, he just hugged him back as tightly as he could, fingers fisted into his jacket and his face buried against his shoulder while he bawled and shook with the intensity of his emotions. He was crying so hard he didn’t notice it at first but Takano was shaking just as violently as he was, it was only when he felt moisture against his neck and shoulder that he realised that he wasn’t the only one that lost control of his emotions. A shaky had lifted and he started to stroke at that silky dark hair, “you okay?” he croaked out in a barely audible whisper.

Masamune nodded his head, then shook his head, squeezing Ritsu tighter. He was more than okay, but definitely not okay right at this moment. He hadn’t cried this hard in so long it drained him quickly and the pair of them ended up sinking to sit on the sidewalk. Dragging Ritsu into his lap he continued to sob against his neck, losing it even more when the younger started to shakily pet at his hair, “Ritsu… Ritsu… I love you, oh god…so much, I love you more than anything, anyone.” he stroked his hair and nuzzled into his neck, chanting his name over and over again, “you better not be drunk..” he whispered harshly and started to kiss his cheeks, eyes the tip of his nose and of course his forehead and finally his lips. Sinking his fingers into the brunette’s hair and tilting back his head more so he could deepen the kiss.

“I’m not drunk, I only had a beer and a half…” he would have been defensive if he wasn’t so broken up at the moment. Takano’s kisses were always so overwhelming, and right now it was as if he wasn’t even on the planet anymore. It didn’t matter that there were people down the street that may be able to see them or that cars were driving by. All there was, was Takano and the mingling of the salt of their tears and the sweetness of their lips and tongues joined in passion. He was more than alright with this, until it was he remembered, “you never gave me an answer.” he whispered in a hoarse voice as he pulled back. Running his thumbs under Takano’s eyes in wonder over the tears streaming from his beloved eyes.

It took Takano a moment to realise what Ritsu meant, this was difficult and yet so easy at the same time. While he loved working with him and he knew the other liked working with manga too, if it meant that he could call Ristu his own and belong to Ritsu in turn, well. “Boyfriend… but you’ll have to wait to transfer to a different department until we find a replacement for you.” his fingers gently brushing away the tears on blush stained cheeks, even if his own tears weren’t stopping yet, he was relieved when he saw Ritsu nod his head, agreeing.

“I wouldn’t leave you guys hanging like that, it’s what I was planning on anyway if you said yes.” giving a sniffle as he stared into the others watery eyes. He had never seen this man cry and it made his lower lip tremble knowing that he’d made him wait so long, “I’m sorry for making you wait, I was just… so scared… I don’t want to be hurt again, please…” he struggled out a choked plea.

Masamune’s eyes widened, “No, never.. I’ll never hurt you Ritsu. I love you, I’ve loved only you…” he cupped his cheeks in his palms and pressed their lips together in quick kisses, resting his forehead against Ritsu’s, “don’t be scared, I’m going to treasure you for the rest of my life, I promise you, just don’t run away from me again.”

Ritsu shook his head, “I won’t run, promise.” tears hung from his lashes as he returned those sweet, chaste kisses, “it’s not going to be easy though, my parents might not like us being together, I may lose my family… maybe even my job if my folks are really that mad about me and you. You sure you still want me, I come with a lot of risks. I don’t even know if your job would be safe to be honest, my parents are pretty influential and I’m afraid of anything bad happening to you.” a few tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Don’t care, I’ll take care of you and if they pressure Isaka-san and I lose my job we’ll move far away where they can’t touch us.” he wasn’t sure what they’d do if they really did come after the both of them, “I just want you, need you… You’re worth all those risks and more…” Masamune whispered as he kissed Ritsu’s tears away and tried as best as he could to soothe away the younger man’s fears, “we don’t have to tell them right away and we can save money just in case. I think Isaka values us both so it might not be so easy for them to do anything if they decide to be petty and cruel. I’m just so happy Ritsu, let’s not talk about the bad things that might happen, let me just love you and thank you so much for giving us another chance.” relishing the feel of Ritsu in his arms and cuddling him close and feeling that the younger man was clinging to him just as desperately.

“Thank you for waiting...and being even more stubborn than I am.” and that was saying something. Ritsu let out a short laugh at that, peering up at that loving look within Takano’s eyes, “Love you…” he whispered and cuddled his face into the chest of the man that he loved, finally feeling at peace after eleven long years. No matter what would come their way, he trusted Takano at his word and that they would face it together. For the first time in so very long, Ritsu had found hope and allowed himself to freely love the one that had stolen his heart so long ago.

[migleefulmoments]

Abby is the 1 who needs a reading comprehension lesson. An anonymous person said 'You're a narrow-minded fool if you actually put any stock in whether or not a married man is wearing his ring.' Abby's reply was 'Never once did I or anyone I know say that a married person has to wear a ring.' Am I crazy or is that totally 2 different things? Sometimes Abby is so blind it makes me crazy. Also, if u could do a follow up to her blatherings re her post it would be great. I'm just gobsmacked over it.

I see you wrote another post clarifying it was Cassie who made the comments you quoted but the entire coven’s comments after Cassie just get more ridiculous- “fact” after “fact” of lies and nonsense comparisons.  It’s batty that they believe any of the lies- but they believe them all! 

Anonymous asked: My grandpa doesn't wear his wedding ring because he used to work as an AC/heating repair man (he even taught college courses on fixing heaters at one point) and then was just not in the habit when he retired. That doesn't make his and grandma's marriage less valid. Rings are a symbolic thing that most cultures don't even do. You're a narrow-minded fool if you actually put any stock in whether or not a married man is wearing his ring.

cassie1022 answered: Oh yay, fun. (Cassie -always so charming)  My dear Nonnie, once again, reading comprehension eludes someone that believes in the Miarren myth. Never once did I or anyone I know say that a married person has to wear a ring (and yet Abby pops in below to claim the same but then argue that it IS the ring coming and going that looks suspicious. Let’s pretend that cc rings were real- he didn’t wear them every day regardless of what Abby claims.). Some people don’t wear them because they work with their hands, like your grandpa, and some just don’t feel comfortable wearing them. Let’s be real though. D has never shown an aversion to wearing rings. He’s worn them quite often, even while playing a show (yes, but he also took them off.  It’s his prerogative.  Until he says he’s getting divorced, it’s none of our business). There was a time when the only time he DIDN’T have a ring on was while he was in character (so what? He has had his wedding ring on most times we’ve seen him. You are counting individual photos as entire days and that isn’t accurate)

That being said, let’s examine. When was the last time you think D fixed a car, operated heavy machinery, or, like your grandpa, fixed an AC unit or heater?  (You have no idea what he does in his spare time.  This is a gross comment-some people do things with their hands -build things- because they enjoy it)  (Maybe if he could do that, people wouldn’t be making their own sweat gravy when they go to TSG.)(So now we start with the lies and mischaracterizations. FUN. There are two comments from TSG claiming A/C was broken. Since likely Mia doesn’t own the building, she has no control over the A/C being broken). 

As I’ve already said, rings aren’t for everyone, but I’ve also pointed out that D has been an avid ring wearer most of his life, and there is more than enough photographic evidence to support this. Also, most couples that exchange rings don’t usually stop wearing them in the first year of marriage.(And he hasn’t stopped wearing his now has he?) That’s when it’s usually a point of pride and you want the world to know you are someone’s spouse. (Does Darren seem like the kind of person who is worried about “the world knowing he’s someone’s spouse”? He’s pretty open about his relationship and taking his ring off for an hour or two isn’t indicative of anything).

You know what DOES make a marriage less valid? No legitimate officiant.(LIE)  There are only a handful of states where you can officiate your own marriage, and guess what? Louisiana isn’t one of them.(He didn’t, Joe did)  You need an ordained minister and in addition to that, the minister must register in the parish where the marriage is taking place.

So, if this makes me a “narrow-minded fool,” so be it. I’ve been called worse. (It definitely does).  

ajw720 I needed to laugh this morning, thank you nonnie.(I would imagine you need to laugh a hell of a lot more than you do Abby)  You people really don’t get it (Oh lord).  Also, it isn’t JUST the ring (which is very suspicious especially as he deliberately takes it off at random times, there one minute gone the next) (Here abby argues it isn’t the ring.... except it is the ring) , it is as @cassie1022 pointed out, no officiant (LIE) , weird wedding algorithm (the fact that Abby truly believes there was a guest algorithm says everything there is to say about Abby’s judgment and the cc nonsense)  is FAMILY HONEYMOON (a joke)  constant babysitters (LIE) d’s complete lack of enthusiasm (he practically said he was bored and realized at the last moment that that was bad) (Desperate Abby, you're so desperate) , talked about pooping exes as opposed to how life changed with his bride (and you don’t get that this is was keep from speaking about his personal life? How long have you been a fan? Joking about something to distract from having to answer something private is spot-on Darren), speaks more passionately about his jacket then his wedding (we done got hitched) (This means nothing Abby...NOTHING. He wrote a boring post about his jacket and you’ve been losing your shit over it ever since. IT meant nothing...it was a coat he wore to an event. You only like it because he was boring and serious. It was the farthest thing from Darren I’ve ever read.), announced the engagement using a reference to the wrong freaking franchise (I can’t...this is one of your dumbest arguments out of a lot of arguments. It was a JOKE Abby, a joke.  He used the franchise that made the joke funny. Darren doesnt’ own a franchise)   , FIVE FUCKING encagement rings (LIE), the last of which is an advertisement that she is paid to wear and they haven’t even tried to hide this fact (LIE), utter lack of chemistry (again desperate Abby) , the weirdness with his non-relationship but clear friendship of sorts with his ex co-star (It’s not “weirdness” it’s a nonrelationship-you said it yourself). , the way she is promoted that is beyond excessive for someone who isn’t famous (This entire rant is unhinged. Nobody is promoting her, he’s living his life with her.  Like we expect he would with his wife. There is nothing untoward with their behavior together.  The fact that you have to label it “promotion” says that it worries you a lot). the fact that the sold their entire wedding to about 100 sponsors )(LIE) (I am sure there are more than we even realize), the clear references to fandom at the sham mockery (OMG Abby, give it up. Nobody cares about you), and that this allegedly private couple also released 85% of their wedding for public consumption (They released 27 photos. That is HARDLY 85% of their wedding. You saw a lot of the same photos posted by their friends and it upset you but they didn’t release 85% of their wedding. It was a 4-day event and the wedding events started at around 3 pm and lasted until after midnight -27 is not 85% of 10-ish hours of celebration).  

If it was ONLY that he randomly took his ring off depending on how the wind is blowing, fine, that is evidence alone of nothing.  All of these things, and hundred and hundreds of other facts (which are ALL LIES). (inconsistent timelines (Darren doesn’t owe you a “consistent timeline” that’s asinine)   they don’t know where they met each other RC handshakes (You know that isn’t a handshake- they were photographed together right before the “handshake’ you won’t let go of and he’s heard introducing her as his girlfriend ), D running from her every moment he can, etc, etc)(Whatever you tell yourself to sleep at night), are clear evidence it is fake that is beyond a reasonable doubt (Bwahahahahaha you are conning yourself Abby) .  Him kissing her in her bar is his job.  I suggest nonnie you pay attention to the details (Which ones- your lies or the real details?) And please pay attention to the captain, he hasn’t even been subtle lately, he has been fairly blatant (Le sigh, he isn’t the captain.  He’s a dude who loves his boyfriend Will and writes children’s books that are not cc Bibles) .

Happy Thanksgiving Nonnie!  I hope you can tear yourself away from reading blogs you disagree with long enough to enjoy your friends and family! Cheers!

notes-from-nowhere What love are you talking about, anon? M doesn’t love D and she makes this clear every chance she get (LIE- there is nothing that suggests MIa isn’t in love with Darren). Do I have to remind you how she denied to D’s mom one red carpet to celebrate her son? (LIE Abby fabricated)  Or to D’s dad to be honored for his military past?(another LIE Abby fabricated)  But why listing all of her actions when you know very well this is only the surface.

Btw, I still have to know a singer/actor lost a finger because of a wedding band. Anon, try again, this attempt failed. (SMH)

leka-1998 You know what I like about this instance in particular? Apart from the fact that the ring isn’t off the whole time, he’s still wearing the other one here.

After 284719 years, she should also know what the language D’s mom speaks is called. Seems she doesn’t care enough. (Another LIE that Abby fabricated) 

Also, former platonic roomie says hello. (LIE) 

ajw720

They still can’t explain away B/enny, the man D just praised for his new album yet D hasn’t even mentioned his brother’s (I can’t explain it but it has nothing to do with Darren and Mia.  You’re the one making it a problem) .  The man that mocked fandom on his IG by referring to M/oulin R/ouge when posting about the fraud in NOLA (Nobody-especially Ben Hudson- gives a shit about fandom Abby. You’re a nobody)  The man who seemingly officiated the wedding (Again a LIE)  And the one who appears to have a dog (yes he does, he lives with his girlfriend, Joanna, and their two dogs) . Hey remember just a few weeks ago when PBB dropped her teeth in the dog’s bowl? Funny as we know she and D don’t have a dog (Nope, they clearly don’t- stop trying so hard).…

[dvscur]

hewwo everyone ,, it’s bonbon here back with the long awaited DEDUE ...  im currently at work so i can’t do much but write this intro and try and revamp him from what he used to be but i will throw lots of ideas and etc. under the cut for everyone to see ! i love u all and i hope ur ready to be Sad because dedue is back and even worse than before :Smile: now for what is under the cut ! please beware though, there are triggers for substance/drug abuse, depression, violence/injury, and death/murder mentions. i will mark paras with any of these with a TW. thank u !

( rome flynn, cismale, he/him, fire emblem three houses ) * &. i know it must be scary for you , dedue molinaro , after surviving the takeover . to turn into someone like DUKE MOLERO , twenty-four year-old boxing trainer at jungle gym’s , right here in castle town . just remember that you are as dedicated as you are introverted , and to be wary , be safe , be true to who you are : HEROIC through and through .

you all know the gist of before castle town so i wont go too indepth about it but a lot of things that happened before will be mentioned in his new life in castle town now.

the basics.

his faceclaim is rome flynn! dedue is a sexy motherfucker okay. he is 24 ( twenty-four ), he/him, and his token is his one earring that he still wears to this day even in castle town.

so he DID survive the takeover ... this means that he remembers everything from his past life and 150% wishes that he didn’t!

he goes by DUKE now. duke molero. pretty much the same as his former name.

he is a trainer at the jungle gym’s and specifically a boxing trainer because it is a passion that helps him not only get out the stress of his past life, but help him remember how it used to feel to battle and fight.

of course he is still kind of the same personality wise but i will dive more into it below.

personality & castle town.

in his new life, duke is entangled in so many emotions and so much anger that he knows if he does not keep himself shut out, he will either hurt someone or himself, for that matter, which is what makes him very introverted to the point of being too blunt and too mean to some people if they are asking for it.

TW drug abuse, death mention. a major change from before was his desire for people who did not survive to remember. now, duke does not really understand what happened with the takeover and so he is unsure who to blame. those frustrations turn into cold shoulders, staying up way too late, abusing drugs ( more info asap ), and spend any free time he has boxing and basically fucking himself up. he does not know how to cope with it anymore. he lost his family in his past life and now he lost his friends in this life. at least, most of them, and the one who means the most ( dimitri ). 

like said before, he does not know who to blame for this so he takes this feeling out on anyone who was close to him before. if you didn’t survive, he gives you the cold shoulder like it is your fault you don’t remember him, and if you did survive, he has mixed feelings on whether or not it was their ( or his ) fault that the others did not make it through. perhaps he thinks they could have done better.

the only exception might be with dimitri which i will plot out with hylia ofc uwu.

he is pretty stoic and introverted still but now it is with more of a mean streak than before. he comes off as rude does not really care much about others because he feels, in a way, there is no reason to care anymore about anyone or anything.

TW depression, death mention. this is something i recently thought up but i definitely see dedue going to a therapist for what would be depression because of everything that has happened. he lost his family to a massacre and then lost who you could argue was his second family to the takeover. it’s confusing. he doesn’t know how to explain it or truly feel and so most of the time he shuts down and becomes unable to reason with or talk to. he is just very unhealthy.

TW drug abuse. i have to do a lot more research on this to truly understand and write it but i have a concept thought out that one of the ways he copes it by using drugs. this is very much at stage one in the works so i will have to really develop this idea and research it and just plan it out as a whole. but dedue is just ,, suffering.

TW violence/injury, depression. lastly, when he is not working, he is usually training of some sort. i imagine he owns a punching bag at home and a set of boxing gloves and uses it as a way to get his frustrations out and try to make sense of everything. i imagine a lot of times this leads him into an episode but he always thinks it will help him even if it doesn’t in the end. that also said, i have to do some research on this too but dedue is going to be part of an underground boxing scene where they mostly fight almost bare handed and it gets very violent, leaving him injured a lot of the time with people asking many questions. he doesn’t like to talk about his side gig only because he knows it is unhealthy and not safe and he doesn’t need anyone lecturing him on what to do with his life when he is in the predicament he is in.

that is really it to be honest! im planning on doing a deep dive into both him and apollo where i write and post a lot more of their personality and backstory and current life to get my muse hyped up and to actually feel like im doing something right. but yeah. i will post in the channel if you wanna plot but it might have to wait until either later or tomorrow because i’m at work right now and i’m deadass tired. uwu love u all hope i didn’t break u too much.

***again a lot of this stuff is a basis and i will not be putting anything in set stone until i do more research because i always like to know what i’m writing about and drug abuse is a topic i have never really ,, covered before in all my ocs i have ?? so please bare with me i will be putting in 120% to writing dedue as perfect and as sad as possible LUL.

[lowkeyassgard]

Capture This Moment (OG TOM HIDDLESTON FIC)

Capture This Moment Chapter 1: Original Tom Hiddleston/ Non-binary character fic series.

(TOM HIDDLESTON X YOU, TOM HIDDLESTON X READER, TOM HIDDLESTON X OG CHARACTER)

Summary: Grey Anderson is a photographer in their last semester of college. They are assigned a final project to spend several weekends at a campground.

Tom Hiddleston is a former actor who is forced to run his father’s campground. He gives tours and hikes for extra cash to make use of his developed knowledge of the wilderness.

What will happen when their paths cross?

Word Count: 1,709

Authors Note: The OG character is non-binary and using they/them pronouns. Tom Hiddleston will be introduced in the next chapter and smut will come later.

Originally Posted: http://archiveofourown.org/works/22499770

If Grey Anderson had learned anything in their life it’s that every moment of the day was camera worthy. They carried their camera wherever they went for this purpose. Their favorite sound was the click of the camera. Life might be short but Grey would document every moment they could.

Grey had a rough childhood growing up. Their parents were divorced and constantly moved around. They were never in one spot for long. Originally from the cold and wet Washington, Grey had lived in 12 different states by the time they were 18. All of them offering a new set of challenges. None of them feeling like home.

Consumed and overwhelmed with this nomadic lifestyle; Grey started to take photos. Initially to document each new place they lived in but quickly turned into a passion. More then a passion. It was like an escape.

Grey with their fingers on a cold silvery camera with their attention focused on the perfect shot was the one time Grey felt like they were in control. It was like time slowed down and they could actually breathe. The power of the camera was in their hands.

When the opportunity arose to move to New York and study photography, Grey didn’t hesitate. Taking nothing but their clothes and camera they took a train from Boston to New York. Their parents were supportive but Grey knew their parents were just happy they were doing something with their life. Grey’s brother and sister were deadbeat and lived at home still.

New York was nothing like Grey had ever experienced. It was crowded and noisy but beautiful nonetheless. New York was the definition of camera worthy. Grey could just spend hours on a bench taking photos of people as they walked by or birds as they flown above. Grey weekly took walks through Central Park. It was everything they loved and their passion for photography grew.

It had been three years since Grey had left everything they knew behind. They were in their last semester of college and working part time at a café near their apartment. They lived with their best friend, Bentley, in the cheapest apartment they could afford with their combined savings. Life had been decent. Grey worked, studied, and went out on weekends. What more could they ask for?

Things were going better than Grey had expected. Way better to be honest. The thing is Grey hadn’t always been Grey. They were born as Grace. Grace wasn’t bad but it wasn’t who they were. They weren’t into all the girly stuff society tried to force and the more Grey talked about it the more they realized that gender was a social concept. A social concept that could choke on their camera strap. Grey just wanted to be themself. No gender. No label. Just who ever they were and would become.

After moving away from home and meeting Bentley, Grace became Grey. Grey was a nickname that Bentley gave them for the sole fact that they wore the same grey button up every day of the week. Just like their camera that grey button up brought them peace and security. So they wore it no matter if it was hot or cold or rainy or snowy. Would pair it with skirts, dresses, pants, whatever was in their closet. It wasn’t stylish but Grey didn’t care about fashion. Grey only cared about photography.

Speaking of photography, Grey was late to the first day of class back from spring break. They had a ten am photography class and the time on their phone shown they were 15 minutes late. Grey was never late. They had woke up early but got in a heated discussion with Bentley over which Jonas Brother would make the best model. Silly but provided for a good laugh.

Grey just prayed that the rest of the semester would fly by.

Grey opened the door to the classroom and felt the eyes of their fellow classmates upon them. Late on the first day. So embarrassing. Grey adjusted their book bag and quickly took a seat at the back of the classroom. This was the last photography class Grey needed to graduate and they couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Grey loved photography but the teacher was eccentric. Always assigned the weirdest projects that flared Grey’s anxiety. Grey liked to take photos of what they wanted not want they were required. Being required took the joy out of it. Especially when it wasn’t simple assignments like “take a photo of something that is blue.” But assignments like “ photograph something that reminds you of humanity”. It made Grey think and pushed them out of their boundaries. Which wasn’t a super bad thing but wasn’t want Grey wanted.

Grey loved photography that was mindless. That was in the moment. That you could feel and love.

They had over month left of school and Grey knew that their big final project would be assigned today. They hoped it would be simple but knew better.

“Earth to Grey?” Professor Alexander said from the front of the classroom.

Grey jumped aware that they had spaced out. Late and now not paying attention. This is what happens when you go out for drinks on a Sunday. Grey whispered a grievance toward the universe for letting themselves get persuaded by Bentley to meet up with friends at midnight.

“Sorry Professor. I’m just not all the way here today.” Grey apologetically said.

“Clearly.” Professor Alexander said toward Grey before resuming his initial conversation with the entire class.

“As I was saying. For the big project all of you will spend the remainder of the semester at a campground. Any campground of your choosing. “

“Sir, what about are other classes?” The student near the front asked.

“Ah. Yes I do suppose you have other priorities. Most of you in this class are graduating this spring so I see no reason why you shouldn’t be able to do it all. But if you must question it. Alright. You must spend the remainder of the semester weekends at a campground. Or at least a better part of them.”

“Why a campground and what will we do?” This time it was Grey that posed a question for the Professor. Grey had work and three other classes. Not difficult classes but there would be homework and tests for sure. Photography was their life but it couldn’t be their whole life.

“A campground is more then just a place to camp. It is nature. It is life. It is beauty. It is adventure.”

A student began to interrupt the professor but Alexander waved his hand as to silence the student. “You will go and document everything you see. Everything that defines life and adventure. Be a part of nature. “

“And to make sure you don’t just go the last day and take fifty photos. You must have photos from morning, afternoon, evening, and night. Photos when it’s raining, clear, and cloudy. Must take photos of at least 20 people. Photos from all parts of day, weather, and demonstrate diversity. You have 5 weeks.”

“Are we allowed to work together?” Grey heard someone ask.

God they hoped so. This project would be easier and more bearable if they could do it in groups. Walking around a campground by themselves sounded horrid and boring. Even with photography involved.

“No. Each of you must go to a different campground. You may take one person outside this class but no one can work together. I want to see your own personal experience with the exquisite campground. Class is dismissed but I have a list of campgrounds with me please come and select one before you leave.”

Has he lost his mind? An entire project over a campground. A campground? Grey had gone camping a few times as a kid but it wasn’t anything spectacular. At least nothing Grey remembered. Bentley for the last week had convinced Grey to go out to all these new clubs and Grey knew exactly how Bentley could repay them.

Grey slid out of their seat and moved to the front of the classroom. They hadn’t gone camping in New York and had no clue what the options could even intel.

“Ah. Mx. Anderson. You may pick but I think I have one that you would enjoy.”

“Which is it sir? I really have no preference.”

“Well. It’s this campground about 45 minutes away. Ran by a nice man and his boy. William Hiddleston and his boy Thomas. I heard you were big on scenery and this place would be perfect. Has this clearing that is opened up for miles.. “

“Sounds up by alley. What’s the name of it so I can sign my name by it?”

“Tsk. This one isn’t on the list. I wanted to offer it to you before anyone else.”

Grey found that a bit odd. This professor barely knew them and he was suggesting they go to a campground hand picked by them. Creepy but that clearing sounds amazing. Grey couldn’t pass this up.

“I am in. I would love to see it.”

Professor Alexander leaned over his desk and began to scribble on a sheet of paper. After a moment he ripped a section off and handed it to Grey.

“I can’t wait to see what you find and capture.” He said with a smile.

Grey took the paper from his hands and made their way out of the classroom. As they walked out they tried to read the scribbles on the paper.

“Camp Capturious” read the paper followed by its address.

Grey had never heard of it. Never even heard of the town it was in. Grey just hoped this wasn’t a plan by the professor to murder them.

Grey quickly walked back to their apartment. Mind full of ideas for this project and anxiety over the location. Grey didn’t know what this campground would hold but knew that Bentley was for sure going.

Grey knew this would be the opportunity to develop their portfolio to show clients once they graduated. As they walked they thought about what their mom would say when they told her.

In their mom’s voice they thought. “Ya da ya da capture this moment Grey.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #382

“’cuz if i stand up, i’ll break my bones, and everybody loves to see a fall unfold”

Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them? Well yeah. Most of my friends are online, and while I've seen pictures of most at least once or twice, some I still haven't. The last time you threw up, what caused it? It was a side effect of a mood stabilizer I started. Any foods from other countries you would like to try but haven’t yet? I'm sure there's something, idk. Do you think the world would be more peaceful without any religion? Yes. Have you ever had a stalker? No. Does it hurt your feelings when people talk shit about things you love? It makes me self-conscious way more than anything. I start to obsess over whether or not the person things poorly or weirdly of me for liking what I like. I just feel judged for liking it, but that's my problem. Do you like it when people give you nicknames? I do, actually. It feels kinda affectionate to me. Do you often find yourself checking out people’s butts? Haha I'm not gonna say it's never happened, but it's not something I make a habit out of for sure. What fandoms are you in? MEERKAT MANOR IS BACK BAYBEEEE, Markiplier, Silent Hill, Shadow of the Colossus, World of Warcraft, Spyro, Wings of Fire, and lots more, honestly. I'm into a lot of stuff, and I don't love in moderation, haha. Are there any fandoms you used to be in, but left? Yeah, like Supernatural, Good Mythical Morning, or Warriors, but it wasn't out of "I don't like it anymore" or anything, I just drifted away. Anything the fans in your fandoms do that pisses you off? World of Warcraft if particular has one of the most toxic fucking fanbases. There are so many goddamn elitists and people who whine about "boohoo WoW is dying" and "omg this game has been trash since Wrath" and yada yada yada and it's annoying as hell. They always find some shit to complain about. Then Silent Hill... ugh. I think people just hop onto the "the series sux after 1-4" bandwagon to fit in with a certain crowd, but that's not the main thing that annoys me; rather, it's the fact the former main admin of the SH wiki made a fucking joke out of us there. He was clearly having personal issues and made a HUGE and utterly ridiculous deal of Silent Hill 4 having heavy symbolism to the main character being obsessed with the bullshit idea of him being circumcised, and it led to a maaaassive thread of us members trying to talk some damn sense into him as he abused his power. He was finally banned by the Wikia staff, but not in time for some gaming websites to publish "news" stories about it because it was just that ludicrous. Now, YEARS later, we still get trolls coming onto the site to try and revive the drama by inserting absolute rubbish into pages or making new ones. Nowadays I'm the main administrator there, and it's fucking embarrassing sometimes. I'm supposed to keep the wiki under control and respected, you know? Ugh, I'll stop. I could rant for a very long time about this. Do you prefer ruffly or regular potato chips? Ruffly. Do you write down your own recipes, or just commit them to memory? I don’t cook. What color do you want to dye your hair? My top three are pastel pink, lilac, and a light creamsicle orange. I REALLY want to dye it SOMETHING. :( How do you like your chicken? Of course breaded (like nuggets, tenders) is my favorite, but I also enjoy is broiled and seasoned well. There's other ways, but because I don't cook, I, uh... don't know how a lot are made lmao. Do you enjoy cheese fries? UUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH YES. Do you eat refried beans? I absolutely hate beans, so no. What is a food you enjoy, but don’t have very often? A whole lot because a lot of it is from restaurants and we don't eat out all that much. As well, my diet is very narrow just because of how picky I am. Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn? Why? I mean, what are we comparing them for? I think Audrey is fucking gorgeous, though. Marilyn is also beautiful. Favorite fictional world? Uh, I dunno. Do you use lint rollers often? No. Do you carry pepper spray? No, but I want to. Has your power ever gone out for more than a day? I think so. Other than a dislike button, what’s something you wish Facebook had? Hm, I dunno. What time do your parents normally get home from work? Mom can't work right now, but I think Dad gets off around 5PM. Are you afraid to ask people out on dates? Yep. Do you think it’s better to look for love or let it find you? Both can work, but I definitely prefer to let it find me. I feel that *in general* that usually has better results. Have you ever found yourself worrying about commitment? No. I'm a very committed person romantically. Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? No. Have you ever had a rash from poison ivy? I don't believe so, no. Do you have any chairs in your bedroom? No. Did you watch Elmo as a child? Some, yeah. Do you know anyone who doesn’t eat meat? I don't think so, off the top of my head. When you throw up, do you cry? No, but I'm a whiner and will also shake from fear because I have such a phobia of vomiting. Doing it totally turns me into a baby. Who was the last person to carry you? I couldn't tell you the last person to full-on carry me, but back when I tore a ligament in my foot, my mom kinda had me lifted when she would help me walk. Is it easy for you to accept loss? Absolutely not. I handle it very, very poorly. Have you done anything sneaky lately? No. Have you ever had a rolling back pack? Yes. Who knows you better than anyone else? My mom, probably. Would you ever want to go to Brazil? Sure, if the opportunity came up. Are there any medical conditions that run in your family? A lot, mostly heart problems. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica imo. Who is the biggest jerk you've ever met? She was somehow my former best friend. Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never been in that situation, thankfully. What's a charity you would never donate to? I'm really not familiar enough with charities and their practices to know which ones are sketch or not. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you have any exes you'd consider dating again? Yes. What were some of your favorite classes you took in high school? Art and German. Mythology was fun, too. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Yeah, I have a cousin that's a lawyer. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, outta curiosity. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like, two days. Part of the reason I left Girt was because I liked Sara. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? Chicken noodle soup. What's a movie series where the sequel was better than the original? Ha, for some reason Inspector Gadget came to mind. I guess from mentioning my childhood. I was FUCKING OBSESSED with that movie as a kid. The first one's fine, but I love the second one. Does your car have heated seats? Mom's doesn't. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing strange, really. Describe your hometown. What’s it like there? Small and dangerous. Lots of run-down areas. A gang nearly broke into our house once, if that helps you get the picture. What was the last video game you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 forever ago. What did you learn from your last failed relationship? It really just taught me that you need to take care of your own mental health before you can effectively handle another's properly and strike a healthy balance. What country does your favorite band hail from? Britain. What’s something on your to-do list that never actually gets done? Finish decorating my room. -_- Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it? Good Mythical Morning, I suppose. I used to be OB-SESSED. I still adore Rhett and Link as people, they are fucking wonderful human beings and excellent entertainers, I just drifted away from their content. I don't really know why. Do you sleep with the TV or the radio on? No. What’s the worst thing about being male/female (whichever you are)? Menstrual cycles, I'd say. It affects your mood so much, and as someone who's bipolar, it can be very confusing. I like to know why I'm feeling a certain way. What movie has the best special effects? /shrug How many work hours per week is too much for you? I wouldn't know, I've never really worked long enough to figure this out. Can you remember your first day of school? I think I have the faintest memory of it. I know I was very scared to leave my mom (I had absolutely awful separation anxiety from her) and I MIGHT have cried, but I don't really recall with certainty. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? No thanks. Did you keep any drawings/stories from when you were younger? Most, no, because the level of cringe is LITERALLY unbearable for me. Do you have a safe? Mom does somewhere. What’s the scariest thing to happen to you so far? The breakup. That night was just fucking terrifying. I was so certain my life was over, like the situation was so, so impossible in my head. What was your last dream about? (or your daydream if you don’t remember) My memory's faint, but I just remember I had a nightmare where a LOT of my bones were totally snapped in half. When was the last time you saw a relative? Excluding my immediate family, I last saw my now-departed grandmother and my uncle a while back at a hotel as they were passing through. Have you ever been in a TV audience? No. Are you in any way close to reaching a personal goal? Not really... Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? Word searches. Do you like making collages? Not really. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? No. What would you love to learn to do? Digital art, like drawing on a tablet. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? Lemurs. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? The plot, 100%. Are you more shy in real life or on the internet? I am WAY more shy irl.

[doctorgerth]

Good luck with the blog dear!! I am cheering for you! 💜 Here is my request, how will X Drake behave when he meets the woman who once was his superior when he was a marine and theu had a relationship back then (not fully romantic, more like something physical). Now she is a infamous pirate. Please make it a scenario if it is possible. I hope this makes sense xD (Ai)

I know this is old, but still, thank you so much, Ai! To be quite honest, idk what the fuck I just wrote for you lol X Drake is an interesting character, but was a bit of a challenge since we hardly know anything about him. I hope I portrayed him to your liking. Also, I know you never stated it, but I kinda went a lil nsfw-ish at the end? I hope that’s okay. If not, I will gladly change it! Either way, I hope you enjoy this! x

*Putting it under the cut, as it is a bit lengthy!

Running into a Former Lover (X Drake)

Seeing her waltz in into the bar was immediate nostalgia. A rush of emotions, emotions he hasn’t felt in years, flooded his entire being. He eyed her shamelessly for a while, making sure over and over again that it was indeed (Name) he was seeing right in front of his eyes. Craning his neck for a better view, his heart skipped a beat once the divine eye contact was made at last. X Drake was a rather apathetic man, but he couldn’t hide or deny the fiery rush of blood that tinted his entire face once she recognized him.

“Drake? Is that you?”

He had spent a good few minutes just staring at the woman, begging for her to notice him. But now that she was walking his way, a cheesy smile accentuating her face, he wanted nothing more than to flee this place at breakneck speed. What would he say to her? What would she say to him? Her smile was inviting, but surely he was setting himself up for trouble if the Marines were here.

X Drake stood from his chair, a respectful stance he grew accustomed to while working alongside his former Marine superior, (Name) years ago. She was a Vice Admiral, and he was her Rear Admiral, her right hand man. The two were quite the pair back in his Marine days.

“(Name).” He acknowledged her flatly.

Her pace seemed to quicken as soon as her name rolled off his lips. Only he could make her name sound like that. It was him! She couldn’t contain her excitement as she trotted over to her former partner, thrilled to see him as it had been years since their last time together.

X Drake stood still, was she there to arrest him? He had been extra careful as to not cause any trouble the past few days. My, what a sight it would be for her of all people to retain him.

“As stoic as ever.” She smiled up at his indecipherable demeanor. She always found that side of him intriguing. (Name) had lost count of the times she spent observing him, wracking her brain for any knowledge as to what this unreadable man was thinking.

Her smile and playfulness made his tight lips crack ever so slightly into a wistful smile. Still as beautiful as ever, he thought to himself. But he wouldn’t dare say such words out loud for everyone to hear. Just before his mind had wandered, something peculiar caught his eye.

“Is that a Jolly Roger?” His left brow raised high, surely she was working undercover for a mission of some sort? Nevertheless, there was definitely a pirate symbol on her coat. One he had seen before, but couldn’t quite place a name on.

An even bigger, prouder smile graced her lips, “Yep! I’m officially a pirate, just like you!” Though she was his superior, she enjoyed acting like she was the one who looked up to him. She always said that it was a means to inflate his ego, but he knew it was her way of teasing him.

“My my, (Name). What happened to fighting in the name of justice?” He couldn’t hide the amused smile any longer, his hands resting at his hips dramatically. He was indeed proud of her, but was he supposed to be? Why had she left? She was a Vice Admiral! He knew how tedious and difficult it was to achieve that rank, let alone abandon it.

She simply shrugged her shoulders in response, “We always talked about how flawed the system was. I grew tired of the mundane missions that got us all nowhere. I’m not getting any younger, so I decided it was time to take a risk! Live an actual life for once.” Her confident laughter filled the room, and though the bar was as full and lively as moments ago, all he could hear was her; everyone else had faded away, “I had seen you in the papers and…”

“Oh, so you’ve been keeping up with me?” A satisfied and cocky grin stretched from ear to ear on his face. It was her turn to blush now.

“T-that’s not what I…”

“You did always enjoy living on the wild side.” Drake pointed out, going back to their main conversation. Remembering the life-risking adventures they frequently went on together, he had to admit, life with her was definitely thrilling. She knew how to keep him on his toes and he admired that about her.

“I always enjoyed it with you, anyway.” She admitted honestly, almost to herself, but he had heard. A quickened pace began thumping in his chest at her confession.

The two had subconsciously sat down at the table they were talking by, Drake’s crew getting the hint to relocate while (Name)’s men remained close by, talking amongst themselves at a table within sight. A waitress plopped down a couple of beers and the two began reminiscing, picking up right where they left off.

* * *

“Oh? So you’re the captain?” Drake sneered, feeling more and more comfortable by the second. He could always let his guard down around her, effortlessly.

(Name) sloshed down the rest of her drink, slamming the cup down, “Damn straight I am! Who the hell else would it be? Can’t trust these men to lead each other. It’s like the blind leading the blind!” Her drunken laughter sounded like music to his ears; the kind of song you wanted to listen to on repeat.

“Men need a strong woman in their life. They are lucky to have you.” The words just flowed right out, and his sincerity caused her face to heat up. She brought the mug to her face, attempting to hide the evidence of her embarrassment. Drake smiled to himself, catching sight of her adorably flushed face, knowing there was nothing left in that mug.

“W-well how about you then? Have you met anyone?” She was scared to know the answer, but she couldn’t waste another second in the dark. Had everything truly been lost between the two?

Drake shook his head, “Can’t say I have found anyone to settle with just yet.” His arms stretched to rest casually behind his head, “One too many options.”

Her eyes widened. Was he serious? Had her chance been shot? She was searching his face for any evidence of jest, but his face was as unreadable as ever! Would she ever learn to crack his codes?

It was no surprise he’d have hoards of women clawing at his feet. He’s always been so handsome and charming. Her head felt heavy as it began to stoop.

“Kidding.” He muttered blankly, “Only kidding.”

(Name)’s head shot up. Her flustered, furious face causing an entertained chuckle to escape his throat.

“Oh, haha, very funny. I’m sure you’re quite the bachelor.” Her eyes rolled dramatically to the back of head.

Coming down from his laughter, Drake looked down into his drink, the remaining liquid reflecting his hesitant face. “What about you?”

(Name) was always an independent, head-strong woman. Most men would fear her type, but never him. Drake adored her fighting spirit, her determination, and her immense care for others. He hadn’t realized that until his absence from the Marines and his absence from her.

“Not for me. I’m far too independent for any romance.” Her (e/c) eyes drifted to a downcast angle; she was no longer looking at him. She looked upset and he was willing to do anything to bring that smile he loved so much back to her sweet face. He had wondered if something happened during their separation. Surely she had met someone along the way? Silence filled the table, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. The boisterous noise from the bar crowd coming into earshot yet again, until her restrained voice brought him back to their own little world.

“It’s really been a while…” She whispered, reminiscing on the days when they were most dynamic; not only on the battlefield, but behind closed doors as well.

“10 years.” He retorted matter-of-factly.

She smiled, he had remembered, “We were so young then. So desperate for some kind of connection with anything other than duty.”

Drake’s brows furrowed, causing his infamous frown to return. His body stiffened forward with his hands resting on the table, “You were my duty, Captain.”

(Name) bit her quivering lip at his formalities. He hadn’t called her that since 10 whole years ago. She did not expect such a simple title, one she was most definitely used to by now, to get her flustered so easily. Sobering up, her shaking hands found his that was resting atop the table. The need for contact was intense between the two as he never faltered, simply allowing her hands to settle on his casually. He didn’t realize just how much he missed her touch until her ever soft skin sent him reeling to their past passionate rendezvous together. This touch was different however; innocent, longing.

“It’s been too long…” (Name) trailed off, subconsciously joining Drake on a journey into their past.

They were indeed younger back then. Things were hardly ever more than physical for the pair. Their desire for each other had threatened to overrule their desire for justice, because they were that desperate to feel something. Thinking back on it now, it was amazing they were able to work together for so long, since they were quite terrible at hiding their affection. 

Working as a Marine was stressful, especially being a Vice and Rear Admiral. Satisfaction was practically a must to make it through the tough times, and luckily, they always found relief in each other. They knew their passionate nights together were numbered. What they hadn’t expected was to miss each other once their time was up. All the things they regrettably overlooked in each other, became the things they craved for in other people during the 10 long years. But, the connection with strangers could never be formed, as Drake and (Name)’s connection had only grown stronger during their absences.

It was a subtle connection, one they thought about occasionally, that caused them to pray silently to whatever god was ruler of their fate; they needed to see each other, just one last time. Were they given that chance, they promised they would do better that go around. Now, as fate would have it, they were here, holding hands in a random bar while reminiscing on what was behind them. But was the past truly the only chance they had together?

“I shouldn’t have left you like that, (Name).” Drake admitted, sheer regret dripping from his words.

(Name) nodded, forgiving tears swelling in her eyes, but she wouldn’t let the dam break. Drake squeezed her hands in his, offering a reassuring smirk.

“Any way I can make it up to you? Say it, and it’s yours.”

She looked at him while slowly leaning in. To anyone else, the pair just looked like they were having a nice conversation. But she knew the true meaning behind his words. She instantly noticed his sincere smile twisting to something devious, seductive. His eyes sparkled; that same youthful sparkle that always tempted her in the darkness of her room.

The pair looked over to their respective crews who were each drunk and in their own worlds. They could sneak away easily, just like old times. The rush made both of them nervous, yet excited. But they were pirates now, they could do whatever they wanted.

“I can think of a few ways.” She whispered, inches from his face now.

* * *

They found themselves entangled in endless bouts of passion later that night. Though nostalgic, the night was far from any others they had experienced in their past. They had matured and at last accepted their deep-rooted, irrevocable love for one another. X Drake made many confessions, apologies, and declarations of love to his lover that night. Their fervently intertwined bodies drifted off to a peaceful slumber, ending their sensual night with the promise this wouldn’t be their last.