#no edits we die like the Clockwork Sun

[iamthepulta]

Sunless-Albion tasted like gunpowder and cinnamon.

If Westlie opened her mouth and breathed deep, she could ever-so-faintly taste hours on her tongue. A muted, earthy tang, like truffles stored in ice.

The sky was a deep pitch.

She hadn't gotten used to it, even after two years; even after near-death blowing up the sun; even after landing the Queen's final blow with her own two hands. None of it felt real.

Elijah's footsteps sounded on the stairwell and she turned as he made the final step. One mug was more carefully balanced than the other, lest it slip on his glass fingers. She took that one. They both settled against the railing.

She sipped. Elijah had made an Achlys blend of tea; dark, earthy, very familiar. She savored it. "... The sky's darker than I remember."

She couldn't see his smile behind the mug, but the skin behind his eyepatch wrinkled. "The Khanate has helped. There have been contributions."

"Contributions from you I hear."

His nose wrinkled. "Family contributions."

"Your contributions."

He ignored that, and Westlie dismissed it for another day.

"... How's Andy?"

"Brilliant." She smiled. "Still rough around the edges, but he learns quickly."

"You have an inordinate amount of patience for the most inexplicable things."

"Thank you," she sipped again. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"He needs it."

"He does."

"What about Arthur? Are you going to visit him?"

Westlie hesitated. "... Probably. At some point. I should."

Elijah hesitated, and Westlie could see the question on his face. She took another sip so she could hide behind her mug.

"Why haven't you come to London for two years?"

'Busy' was true, but it was also a lie. Westlie squinted at the stars like they would hold an answer and Elijah waited.

She admired that about him, as much as she hated it. That deep-sunken silence as she tried to reconcile her actions with words. She let her breath spiral in soft blotted clouds from the chill. "I... I don't know."

Elijah waited.

"Nothing's finished," she whispered. It sounded loud despite the noise of London. "There's so much to do- so many runs to make- we didn't finish."

"There's no sun in the sky. No throne of hours."

"Achlys-" Westlie's voice cracked; for a second she hated herself for sounding half her age. "New Winchester, Port Prosper- They took the brunt of London's invasion so we could have that chance. There isn't enough to repay them-"

She stayed quiet for a moment, hoping he'd read her mind- that she didn't want to sit. She had to do. Had to keep doing. She could help, she could fly, she was free, it was purpose, and whenever she was still there was that itch to keep pushing.

She wasn't Morgan- Gods knew where Marion and Sally and Morgan were off now to kill more Judgements- but she wanted to make things safe in the mess they were leaving. Which words said that?

"I- I just... I want to finish the job; and right now, it's not in London."

"I know." Elijah hesitated. He cleared his throat. "I mean, you have a ho- place here, if you want it. Somewhere to stay that isn't Arthur's."

"O-oh."

"I hoped you weren't staying away because of that." His voice softened a little. "I know you're not done."

"... how?"

"Your letters were happy." They'd finished their tea, so he couldn't hide the way his visible eye softened with understanding and the separation that lingered between them sometimes.

They stood there on the roof of the Fry mansion as gas lights shone through the mist and locomotives steamed to the docks.

"I missed you," Westlie blurted out. "It's not the same."

Elijah's face flushed a violent pink.

Her cheeks burned.

"I- fuck-"

"Yo- you have a home here, whenever you need-" Elijah's words were a little strangled but he managed. "I- I mean that."

oh fucking hell

In the middle of the night Elijah was still wearing his goddamn tie under his waistcoat and Westlie had parked in Wolfstack station and signed 29 pages of paperwork and after two years Elijah was still going to play dignified even though it was very, very attractive- and she dragged him into a kiss.

It was fierce and crushed and hurt, kinda, but she wanted it to hurt because she couldn't stop captaining, and there was a hole at her side where he once stood and that hole hurt, and she missed him and that hurt, and they were both gasping and red when she finally let go.

"... Ow."

"I love you." The words choked in her throat. "I love you- I will come home."

"You could have said that."

"I am- did."

"Gentler next time." But he was teasing now in his dry manner with the subtle up-quirk of the lip.

"Fine." Westlie waited for him to collect the mugs and face her again before she grabbed his tie.

She

gently

with

emphasized slowness

-pulled him down into another kiss that she did make softer that time because she was almost crying with relief. She didn't pull away at the end, and he rested his forehead on hers.

"I'm sorry," Westlie whispered, "for making you worry."

"Come home to me, Wes."

"I will."

[chrancecriber]

Radio NET Bulgaria (December 31, 2022)

23:56 J. WHITE - Believe 23:51 KEITH SLATTERY - The Last Minute 23:46 LOUIE FITZGERALD - My Heart Beats for You 23:41 ROCCO VENTRELLA - Feel Like Making Love 23:38 JAZZ FUNK SOUL - Count Me In 23:34 PAUL BROWN - Sugar Fish 23:30 PIECES OF A DREAM - Watch Your Step 23:26 PETER WHITE - Coast Road Drive 23:22 BRIAN SIMPSON - Paradise Island 23:17 DAVID PETROSYAN - Feeling of Breath 23:13 PEET PROJECT - Wanna Have a Party 23:09 CAROL ALBERT - Mas Que Nada 23:05 NILS - Mind Games 23:00 JOHN E. LAWRENCE - Step into a Dream 22:59 DJ ANTOINE - This Time (Acoustic Mix) 22:52 KITARO - A Passage Of Life 22:48 JOHN O'CALLAGHAN, AUDREY GALLAGHER - Big Sky (Acoustic Mix) 22:42 LA CAINA - I Gotta Know Now 22:38 BLANK & JONES - Counting Clouds 22:33 351 LAKE SHORE DRIVE - Rising Stars 22:28 SEBA - Painted Sky (Imagine Chill Out Remix) 22:24 ANDAIN - You Once Told Me 22:20 ATB, AMURAI - Love & Light (Downtempo Mix) 22:16 KENNY G - My Heart Will Go On 22:11 RIHANNA - We Found Love (DJ Fernandez Chillout Remix) 22:03 DELIRIUM, SARAH MCLACHLAN - Silence (Michael Woods Mix) 22:00 MAZELONOSTRA - Twilight Room (Spanish Edit) 21:55 DASH BERLIN, SECEDE, SARAH HOWELLS - Believe In You 21:52 SAMANTHA JADE - Everytime 21:47 ORKIDEA - Beautiful (Ambient Mix) 21:43 NUERA - Breathing (Chillout Mix) 21:39 INNA - On & On (Chillout Remix) 21:35 CHRISTIAN BURNS, MARCO V - Frozen Heart (Acoustic Version) 21:29 WAY OUT WEST - One Bright Night (Original Mix) 21:24 SARAH BRIGHTMAN - Beautiful 21:20 ROBERT NICKSON, RELOCATE, NEEV KENNEDY - Not Made To Break (Chill Out Mix) 21:16 YANNI - Can't Wait 21:10 LUDOVICO EINAUDI - Nuvole Bianche 21:06 SUSANA, DARK MATTERS - Sleepless Ocean (Extended Mix) 21:00 SUNLONGER, KYLER ENGLAND - Change Your Mind (Chill Version) 20:55 CONJURE ONE - Sleep 20:44 ENVIO - Touched By The Sun (Rusch & Elusive's Chillout Mix) 20:39 JEROME ISMA-AE - Underwater Love 20:34 SCHILLER, KATE HAVNEVIK - Don't Go 20:29 MARTINIQUE LE SOUFFLEUR - El Guapo 20:25 POCHILL - Constanta 78 20:21 LOUNGE GROOVE AVENUE - By My Side 20:17 DIMA ZIMAKOV - Right Back (Original Mix) 20:12 KITARO - Itonami 20:07 GLOBAL TRAFFIC, CQ PLAM - World Hold On (Acoustic Cover) 20:03 BOYCHILD, SOUNDMOUSE - Counting What Ifs (Original Mix) 19:58 DEEP MOTIONS - Memories 19:55 SIRENS OF LESBOS - I Got New Feelings (Pablo Nouvelle Remix) 19:49 ANTURAGE - Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough (Original Mix) 19:45 BENYA, PENNY NIXON - Serendipity (After Meridian & Dave Costa Remix) 19:42 GUSHI, RAFFUNK - Travel (Lemongrass Couch Remix) 19:38 JES - Stronger 19:30 VINTAGE, MORELLI - Tree Of Life (Magnetik Remix) 19:26 WILLIAM FITZSIMMONS - Psychasthenia 19:21 MARC PUIG, MARIA COLLADO - To Forget Me 19:16 SMOMA - Secret 19:13 JULIAN VINCENT, SHANNON HURLEY - Lost In Space (Lovers & Poets Remix) 19:09 AMYCANBE - Rose Is A Rose 19:05 ERICK MORILLO, EDDIE THONEICK, SHAWNEE TAYLOR - Live Your Life (Eddie Thoneick Chill Out Mix) 19:00 HEIKO - Miles Away 18:56 MORGAN PAGE - In The Dark 18:52 MASHTI, JEAN VON BADEN - Waiting 18:48 COASTLINE, MADELIN ZERO - Alone With You (Chillout Mix) 18:44 BLANK & JONES - Pura Vida (Radio Mix) 18:39 NAOKI KENJI - Maripri 18:34 MIGUEL LARA - Oblivion 18:31 LINKIN PARK - New Divide (Lukas Termena Chillout Mix) 18:25 PROJECT BLUE SUN - Angels 18:21 SYLVERING - Just An Illusion 18:18 CLAES ROSEN, NATALIE PERIS - Stay (Original Mix) 18:15 LE VITA, FAB - Apologize 18:10 LANA DEL REY - Born To Die 18:06 MAX MILLION - Do You Believe (Original Mix) 18:01 REUNITED - Sing It Back (Shazz Man Chill Mix) 17:58 FENNA DAY - Skin & Bone (Original Mix) 17:53 BRIAN MAGIX, CYNTHIA HALL - Carved In Stone (Chill Out Mix) 17:46 SALTWATER - Chicane (Thrillseekers Ambient Mix) 17:40 VIV DE LA ROSA - Agua Caliente 17:34 DON GORDA PROJECT - Attractive Qualities 17:27 TWENTYEIGHT - Monday Night 17:22 FEINT - Clockwork Hearts (Fetch Remix) 17:18 ROMAN MESSER, ROBIN VANE - Someday (Paul Echo Chillout Remix) 17:14 ADRIAN & RAZ, ELLIE LAWSON - A Hundred Ways (Original Mix) 17:10 DJ GROOVE - So Late 17:04 JES - Like A Waterfall (Flipside Ambient Remix) 17:00 ABBA - Happy New Year 16:56 THE SAX PACK - Back In Style 16:52 JULIAN VAUGHN - Breeze 16:47 BOB BALDWIN - Stand Tall 16:42 DEE LUCAS - Love Saw It 16:37 NATE HARASIM - Different Kind Of Love (feat. Maxine Hardcastle) 16:33 DAVE KOZ - I'll Be There 16:28 KIM WATERS - Love Story 16:24 RICHARD ELLIOT - Like Butter 16:19 THE SMOOTH JAZZ ALLEY - C-Funk 16:15 AL DEGREGORIS - Hey You 16:12 DEE LUCAS - All In (feat. George Freeman) 16:08 U-NAM - Spice of Life 16:04 NATE WHITE - Sweet Summer Nights 16:00 PAUL BROWN - Hello Again 15:56 FOURPLAY - Aniversario 15:51 OLI SILK - Tokyo 15:46 ANDRE CAVOR - Say Somethin' 15:42 NICK COLIONNE - Morning Call 15:37 EUGE GROOVE - A Summer's Nights Dream 15:33 DAVID PETROSYAN - Midnight Groove 15:29 BONEY JAMES - Powerhouse 15:25 JOHN E. LAWRENCE - Slow Jam 15:21 DARREN MOTAMEDY - I'll Give You What You Want 15:17 BOB COATE - Super Smooth 15:13 PIECES OF A DREAM - It's A Vibe 15:08 JULIAN VAUGHN - Reflection 15:04 KIM SCOTT - Best Part 15:00 STIX BONES - The Beginning 14:56 NILS - Windsurfer 14:53 GORDON JAMES - Rainy Afternoon 14:48 BRIAN SIMPSON - One More Time 14:44 CHRIS STANDRING - The Gist of You 14:40 CAROL ALBERT - On My Way 14:36 ERIC DARIUS, NORMAN BROWN - Just For The Moment 14:31 DARRYL WILLIAMS - My Story (feat. Jeff Lorber) 14:26 DWIGHT SIRLS - Time 14:23 PATRICK YANDALL - Just My Luck 14:17 LUKAS LEUTHOLD - His Love For You 14:12 KEITH MASON - Ah Hallelujah 14:08 MARION MEADOWS - Last Ticket To Somewhere 14:04 PAUL TAYLOR - Pleasure Seeker 14:00 FUNKTASTIC PLAYERS - Free Your Soul 13:56 3RD FORCE - We Should Be Together 13:51 JUSTIN KLUNK - Thunder 13:47 RICHARD ELLIOT - Deep Touch 13:42 JEFF KASHIWA - Back In The Day 13:38 GREGG KARUKAS - Riverside Drive 13:34 DARRIUS JAMAR - My Everything 13:29 MARQUEAL JORDAN - Elevation 13:25 ADRIAN CRUTCHFIELD - Can't Let You Go 13:21 JESSY J - Daylight (feat. Gregg Karukas) 13:17 WAYNE GUTSHALL - Spanish Love (feat. Steve Oliver) 13:13 BRIAN SIMPSON - Castaway 13:09 QUINTIN GERARD W. - Cleared for Takeoff 13:04 BONA FIDE - Funk Box 13:00 ISAAC BYRD JR. - Rebirth 12:56 DEE LUCAS - Tried and True (feat. David P. Stevens) 12:53 DANCING FANTASY - Bon Voyage 12:48 JOHN E. LAWRENCE - Step into the Night 12:43 EUGE GROOVE - Mr. Groove 12:38 NAJEE - Hurricane 12:34 K'JON - Live, Love & Laughter 12:30 JULIAN VAUGHN - Always in My Heart 12:26 KIM SCOTT - Sizzle 12:22 NORMAN BROWN - Ocean Breeze 12:18 NILS - Malibu 12:14 DANNY LERMAN - No Ordinary Love 12:09 BRIAN SIMPSON - Saturday Cool 12:04 REZA KHAN - Seven Mile Road 12:00 LISA ADDEO - Listen To This 11:56 ART RUPRECHT - Coast to Coast 11:52 AL GOMEZ - Who's Right, Who's Wrong 11:49 JOHNNY JAMES DR. J - Foolish Heart 11:45 PATRICK YANDALL - Sailing 11:41 AL DEGREGORIS - Time Sensitive 11:36 AMANDUS - Enjoy 11:32 JAREZ - Mr. Sexy Saxy 11:27 RICK HABANA - Paradise 11:23 MARCUS ANDERSON - Just Like Me 11:17 ACOUSTIC ALCHEMY - Playing For Time 11:13 RICHARD ELLIOT - Melrose Diner 11:09 KENNY PORE - Siempre del Corazon 11:04 496 WEST - Boo'd Up 11:00 ADAM HAWLEY - Cruisin' (Feat. Brian Culbertson) 10:56 KEN NAVARRO - Out Of The Blue 10:52 GARY PALMER - Land of the Sun 10:47 CAROL ALBERT - Sol Ipanema 10:43 ERIC DARIUS - Forever Yours 10:40 THREESTYLE, MAGDALENA CHOVANCOVA, ROBERT FERTL - Better Days 10:36 PETER WHITE - Lost In Your Eyes 10:32 TOM BRAXTON - What A Friend 10:26 KIM WATERS - 95 North 10:21 EUGE GROOVE - Forever And A Day 10:18 JACOB WEBB - Dancing for You 10:14 PATRICK BRADLEY - Completely Yours 10:09 JOHN E. LAWRENCE - Just Chillin' 10:04 ART RUPRECHT - A Good Thing 10:00 NAJEE - Stratosphere 09:56 ZACH BRIDGES - Yonder 09:51 RHYTHM LOGIC - There for You 09:46 NORMAN BROWN - Brighter My Light Shines 09:43 EVAN CARYDAKIS - Movin On 09:38 JAZZ FUNK SOUL - Sunset Rock 09:34 BRIAN SIMPSON - Can't Tell You Why 09:30 ANDRE DELANO - Why Not 09:27 PEET PROJECT - Show You My City 09:23 MARK JAIMES - Hear At Last 09:20 PETER HEROLD - Praise The Lord 09:17 SAM BASSMAN JENKINS - Take Me There 09:13 NICK COLIONNE - There It Is 09:08 WARREN HILL - Renewal 09:05 PAUL TAYLOR - Epic Dream 09:00 JONATHAN FRITZEN - Lullaby (feat. Darren Rahn) 08:56 WALTER BEASLEY - Just Hold Me 08:51 BLAKE AARON - Fall For You 08:45 MARCUS ANDERSON - Your Will 08:41 SPONTANEOUS GROOVIN' COMBUSTION - Soul Stirrer 08:37 RICHARD ELLIOT - Summer Madness 08:33 ZOLBERT - Pacific Coast Highway 08:29 STEVE OLIVER - Slingshot 08:25 MARCIA MIGET - Praise Him (Instrumental) 08:21 BRIAN SIMPSON, STEVE OLIVER - What The Wind Knows 08:17 VINCENT INGALA - Free To Groove 08:13 KIM SCOTT - Something Better 08:08 DEMETRIUS NABORS - Sugar Love 08:04 RANDY SCOTT - Heaven Sent 08:00 JOYCE COOLING - Almost Home 07:56 PHIL DENNY - Urban Troubadour 07:53 JAZMIN GHENT - Self Love 07:47 GERALD ALBRIGHT, NORMAN BROWN - Champagne Life 07:42 BLAIR BRYANT - Caramel Dream 07:38 TERENCE YOUNG - Make Me Say It Again 07:34 VANN BURCHFIELD - Friends 07:29 RAGAN WHITESIDE - Call Me (vocal) 07:25 TIM BOWMAN - Travelin' Road 07:21 LES SABLER - Sunrise 07:17 RICK HABANA - Excursion 07:13 RICHARD ELLIOT - Panamera 07:08 GREG MANNING - I Need To Know (Feat. Adam Hawley) 07:04 PETER WHITE - Kinda Sweet 07:00 ROCCO VENTRELLA - Come Morning 06:55 BRIAN SIMPSON - Moonlit Ocean 06:52 DAMIEN ESCOBAR - Night Drive 06:47 PAUL HARDCASTLE - Flight of the Phoenix 06:43 GINO ROSARIA - Ride Along 06:40 SAM BASSMAN JENKINS - On My Way 06:36 DEE LUCAS - Sir Dee 06:33 BK JACKSON - Believe That 06:29 PAUL TAYLOR - Straight to the Point 06:24 JONATHAN FRITZEN - Celebration 06:20 QUINTIN GERARD W. - Times Like These 06:16 ROB TARDIK - East Meets Wes 06:12 PATRICK YANDALL - Gaviotas 06:08 TOM BRAXTON - Lookin' Up 06:04 SPONTANEOUS GROOVIN' COMBUSTION - Tribeca 06:00 RICHARD ELLIOT - Boom Town 05:56 WAKANA - Go for the Sound 05:52 AL GOMEZ - For Sure 05:48 EVERETTE HARP - Old School 05:44 BRIAN SIMPSON, STEVE OLIVER - The Way Home 05:40 VINCENT INGALA - Just Imagine 05:36 KIM SCOTT - J's Groove 05:33 DARREN MOTAMEDY - After the Storm 05:28 GERALD ALBRIGHT - Eddie's Groove 05:24 BRAD ALEXANDER - A Matter of Time 05:20 KENNY PORE - Touching Hearts Today 05:16 JOYCE COOLING - Don't Mind if I Do 05:12 DARRON COOKIE - 32 Days 05:09 JEANETTE HARRIS - Joyful 05:05 NORMAN BROWN - Talk It Out 05:00 UNDER THE LAKE - Another Mothers Day 04:56 MEZZOFORTE - High Season 04:52 BRETTINA - Bop Baiye 04:47 OLI SILK - So Many Ways 04:43 RANDY SCOTT - Daydreams 04:39 JULIAN VAUGHN - Sway 04:33 BRIAN BROMBERG - Mr. Miller 04:29 PHILLIP DOC MARTIN - Her Touch 04:25 NILS - Good Times Are Better 04:21 BRIAN SIMPSON - Fiona's Song 04:15 EUGE GROOVE - Get Em Goin' 04:11 LAWSON ROLLINS - Bossa Nova California 04:08 ZOLBERT - Above the Clouds 04:03 HIROSHIMA - China Latina 04:00 PAUL TUVMAN - Something 03:56 PAUL TAYLOR - Find a Way 03:52 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Stand by You 03:48 JAZZ FUNK SOUL - Life And Times 03:43 QUINTIN GERARD W. - Roundtrip LAX - Release. 03:40 SAM BASSMAN JENKINS - Can You Feel It 03:35 THE SAX PACK - A Little Bit Closer 03:30 JOY RIDE - Fly By 03:26 MARK ETHEREDGE - Golden Hour 03:22 RICHARD ELLIOT - Q.T. 03:18 JACKIEM JOYNER - Share My Tears 03:14 NAJEE - Luna 03:09 ROBERT HARRIS - Life's Journey 03:05 GREGG KARUKAS - Soul Kisses 03:00 DREAMING IN COLOUR - The Dream Merchant 02:55 KIM SCOTT - Glorious 02:52 STEVE OLIVER - In the Shade of Cool 02:48 DEAN JAMES - To Hold You Again 02:44 REZA KHAN, DAVID MANN - Under the Moon 02:39 JOYCE COOLING - The Wizard 02:35 A Sultry Summers Night (feat. Greg Minnick, Ignacio Nunez & Dean Rickard) 02:31 NORMAN BROWN - The King Is Here 02:27 JAKOB MAGNUSSON - Caption This 02:21 JOHN E. LAWRENCE - Cool Jazz 02:16 KIM WATERS - Dreaming of You 02:12 OLI SILK - Slinky Malinki 02:07 UNDER THE LAKE - Old Friends, New Grooves 02:04 JULIAN VAUGHN - Ride Along 02:00 MARION MEADOWS - Dreamin 01:55 SAM RUCKER - Follow Me 01:51 NICHOLAS COLE - In It to Win It 01:46 NILS - Pacific Coast Highway 01:42 BRIAN SIMPSON - All I Want is You 01:37 EUGE GROOVE - Welcome To The Journey 01:35 CHRIS 'BIG DOG' DAVIS - Silver Street 01:30 CHIELI MINUCCI - Big Sky Country 01:26 BLUEY - Back Here Again 01:22 ROB TARDIK - Always There (feat. Phil Denny) 01:18 NICK COLIONNE - Here's to You 01:14 DREW DAVIDSEN - Don't Delay 01:10 PATRICK YANDALL - Try the Blue One 01:06 KOOL&KLEAN - Amazing 01:00 RAGAN WHITESIDE - 3am 00:55 RICHARD ELIOT - Chill Factor 00:51 SHAWN RAIFORD - In the Moment 00:46 J. WHITE - Listen Up 00:42 DAVE KOZ - All I See Is You 00:37 LISA ADDEO - What Cha' Know About That 00:34 BK JACKSON - Silver Lining 00:30 NEIKA SIMONE - Beautiful Moments 00:27 BEN TANKARD - More Rain 00:22 PAUL TAYLOR - Seize the Day 00:18 ALTHEA RENE - Rock with You 00:14 KAREN DEVROOP - Sunset in Koh Samui 00:09 DANIEL CHIA - In the Moment (feat. Paul Brown) 00:05 PETER WHITE - What Does It Take (To Win Your Love) 00:00 LUKAS LEUTHOLD - Longing For The Bride

[cyarskj1899]

Some tv shows are worth watching…but others aren’t worth the dvr

The 18 best TV shows of 2022 (and 5 worst)

By Kristen Baldwin and Darren Franich

The year's top TV featured spectacular debuts (The Bear, Severance), fantastic farewell seasons (Better Call Saul, The Good Fight), and more than a few surprises.

December 06, 2022 at 12:00 PM EST

The best of TV in 2022 by the numbers: Seven spectacular debuts, four fascinating farewell seasons, one prescient docuseries — and two antiheroes who earned a spot on both of our critics' lists. Below, EW's Kristen Baldwin and Darren Franich celebrate the series that moved them — and the ones that made them very, very mad. 

Darren's list 

10. jeen-yuhs: A Kanye Trilogy (Netflix)

A million years ago in February, you might've thought Kanye West was in a low place. Then came the ongoing storm of unfathomable anti-semitism. This involving three-part documentary by Coodie Simmons and Chike Ozah ends in 2020, and offers no immediate clarity about the musician's most recent maelstroms. But Simmons was there at the beginning, and jeen-yuhs lingers in its subject's salad days, a vintage digital camera casting a memory glow over young Kanye West breaking into the rap game. His golden age is a gaping hole — Simmons barely interacted with West from 2008 until 2016— but that absence gives Part 3 an electric shock. We smash cut from dreamy early highs to the cascading nightmares: mental health breaks, global trolling, so many yes-man platoons nodding along to their boss' turbulent ranting. Simmons turns his camera off when Ye gets too extreme: Bad documentarian ethics, but I don't blame him. And I won't soon forget jeen-yuhs' evocative portrait of youthful turn-of-the-century optimism shading into our modern moment of assaultive unhinged extremity.

9. The Bear (FX)

An old-fashioned grimy workplace sitcom shot with Safdie-worthy tension and a sumptuous foodie gloss. Jeremy Allen Whitebecame a Generation Debt sex symbol as Carmy, a beleaguered chef trying to keep his dead brother's restaurant alive. Creator Christopher Storer's decision to film the kitchen like a more stressful D-Day made The Bear an unconventional thriller, and the ensemble's a stew of contrasting moods: Ayo Edebiri's wound-up and wounded ingenue, Liza Colón-Zayas' no-bull line cook, Lionel Boyce's sweet-in-every-way pastry chef. No picking favorites, but consider me awed by Ebon Moss-Bachrach, Girls' druggy hubby of yesteryear, who makes screw-up Richie a magnetic swirl of street-dumb futility and repressed grief.

Credit: Laurent Basset/Bravo 

8. Below Deck: Sailing Yacht (Bravo)

This year on the Parsifal III, six crewmates either kissed Gary, kissed someone who later kissed Gary, or were in fact Gary himself. Leave it to Bravo's hysterical luxury-yacht franchise to create 2022's funniest love sexagon. Logically, I know the Below Deckphenomenon is oversaturating itself with five ongoing shows. But I can't deny how much I enjoyed the windiest spinoff's third season. Chief Stew Daisy, Chief Engineer Colin, and irrepressible First Mate Gary are apex Deckpersonalities: sharply funny, good at their jobs. Captain Glenn is a calm, even-keeled kind of manager. Chef Marcos cooked great food despite a massive head wound. We all learned a valuable lesson about anchors dragging: They shouldn't! One deckhand was actually named Barnaby, and one stewardess was actually named Scarlett. The Deckverse's clockwork charms are obviously welcome: Sea, sun, hot tub, luscious vacation-getaway photography, all of it edited with a real-time tension that makes every meal or beach picnic feel like a bomb Jack Bauer is defusing. Pair it with the latest White Lotusand try to decide which is more tragic. (At least on White Lotus some of the rich people die.)

Credit: Gilles Mingasson/Hulu 

7. This Fool (Hulu)

My favorite comedic performance this year was Frankie Quiñones as ex-con Luis, the brash heart and baffled soul of this sneaky-smart, laugh-out-loud series. Away for eight years, Luis seems unfrozen from longer ago, with nostalgia for his '90s gang-banging days and a penchant for quoting Austin Powers at the most problematic times. He's an ideal odd-couple foil for co-creator Chris Estrada's Julio, Luis' cousin and an overt nice-guy progressive. They're two flavors of fool —both living, rent-free, with Julio's mom — and This Fool launches them into a South Los Angeles universe full of possibility. It's a workplace sitcom about a flailing non-profit! No, it's a multigenerational Mexican American family tale! No, it's a You're the Worst-y bleak romcom about the ex-girlfriend (Michelle Ortiz, congenially warped) who won't leave Julio alone! And while Quiñones has a gift for faded-macho one-liners, he also makes Luis' sincere attempts at atonement sweetly endearing.

Credit: Elizabeth Fisher/Paramount+ 

6. Evil (Paramount+)

All hail Aasif Mandvi's Ben, trusty contractor and rationalist sex machine, who spent season 3 cozying up to a cult leader, going viral as a TikTok debunker, and getting mildly depressed about all the eyeball-in-the-toilet surrealism his job requires. Co-creators Michelle and Robert King are revving every engine in this ungodly procedural, expanding the scope of the larger serialized narrative (Demonic houses! Vatican espionage!) even as they merrily run circles around the case-of-the-week format. Mysteries linger. Kristen (Katja Herbers) loses her egg into fertility bureaucracy — or is it actually some sort of Rosemary's Babyconspiracy? Newly-minted priest David (Mike Colter) gets tempted by an infernal Kristen doppelganger — or is he just seriously struggling with the whole chastity thing? Evil's horror is the opposite of elevated; instead, it's delightful and deranged in equal measure. (Full review)

Credit: Scott McDermott/Paramount+ 

5. Players (Paramount+)

Your next great discovery is this funny, moving, unbelievably exciting mockumentary about a jerk millionaire gamer, an obsessive e-sports rookie, and the team they'll either save or tear apart. The American Vandal creators go deep into League of Legends, a global subculture about which I know zilch. Personalities this vivid require no strategy guide. Misha Brooks plays an infamous League legend facing the twilight of a championship-free career, while Da'Jour Jones is an up-and-coming teen sensation. Their clash shines a light on a couple generations of extremely-online video game celebrities, flashing back and forth from the YouTube-y pranks of the mid-2010s to today's well-financed influencer brutes. In sports-story terms, it's like someone made a Major League that was somehow also Bull Durham, The Natural, and Ken Burns' Baseball, but with more grab-a-kleenex speeches about lonely magic cats. (Full review)

Credit: Merrick Morton/HBO 

4. Barry (HBO)

In his hitman psycho-comedy's third season, Bill Hader looks wrecked. Assassin-for-hire Barry is unshaven and unhinged, taking murder jobs while dodging vengeance bullets. His face seems to scream, simultaneously, Hug Me and Kill Me. Ironically, the show around him has never been purer entertainment, embracing ticking-clock tension and was-that-a-panther?violent absurdity. Full-throttle performances by Sarah Goldberg and Henry Winkler turned ego-monster showbiz archetypes (vain acting coach, star-producer narcissist) into figures of soulful corrosion. And who knew the sweetest star-crossed romance of 2022 would be a NoHo Hank (Anthony Carrigan) and Cristobal (Michael Irby), the Chechen gangster and a Bolivian mob boss who just want to settle down in Santa Fe?

Credit: Paul Schiraldi/HBO 

3. We Own This City (HBO)

"Impressively hopeless" is a weird way to describe a show I love, but this miniseries demands attention by refusing any easy (or even difficult) answers to the problems of our American age. Jon Bernthal plays Wayne Jenkins, a real-life cop who was the pride of the Baltimore Police Department before his stunning downfall. Wayne's career of corruption embodies a whole generation of Drug War overreach, which City tracks across a vast ensemble of crooked cops, traumatized victims, and functionaries working for a broken system. Co-creators George Pelecanos and David Simon trod this landscape in The Wire, and City is both more and less conventional than that great (fictional) predecessor. A thread about the Department of Justice almost resembles infotainment, comprising interviews with victims of police brutality and in-depth explanations about failed policies. But Cityalso packs an impressive amount of drama into six episodes, especially in its patient exploration of the career of decent detective Sean Suiter (Jamie Hector) and the complete moral collapse of the Gun Trace Task Force. (Full review)

2. Genndy Tartakovsky's Primal (Adult Swim)

The current boom in big-budget fantasy programming is really a bust of IP management. Can we please scorch this multiverse of remade badness — no more cameos, no more spin-off teases, please no more goddamn meta — and let some original thinkers carve their own impossible paths? Helpful example: This feverishly imaginative, heart-explodingly emotional prehistoric survival tale. Legendary animator Genndy Tartakovsky turned the relentless second season into a serialized quest across new realms of high adventure and low pulp. Vikings, flying-bird duels, a city-ship conquering all in its path, some kind of devil: Delirious torment awaited caveman Spear (Aaron LaPlante) and his trusty steed Fang. Primal is more than just a raucous visual feast. Tartakovsky embraces a Darwinian strain of ambiguity, rife with gaudy massacres of hurt people hurting people. But he also finds moments of grace, suggesting even the most monstrous worlds contain redemptive wonder. Hell yes, I'm talking about those cute baby dinosaurs.

1. Better Call Saul (AMC)

Forget the billionaires, the royals, the superheroes, the true-life serial killers. Thiswas the TV drama: Epic in scope, meticulous in its details, funny even in moments of unthinkable tragedy. Jimmy McGill (Bob Odenkirk) and Kim Wexler (Rhea Seehorn) spent half their final season on the con of all cons, life-hacking poor glorious Howard Hamlin (Patrick Fabian) toward a reputation-ruining breakdown. That was a high point for co-creator Peter Gould's fascination with low-key thrills: a heist on a conference call! Then came the consequences. Saul was exclusively perfect for five straight episodes, pivoting from a final showdown with Lalo Salamanca (Tony Dalton) into gracefully doomed farewells for legacy Breaking Badsters Gus Fring (Giancarlo Esposito) and Mike Ehrmantraut (Jonathan Banks). Then this famously leisurely yarn suddenly Losted across timelines, blending Bad old days into the black-and-white Omaha future. The finale put a speechy point on Saul Goodman's moral deterioration, but I'll always treasure the stunning central performances. Odenkirk got to play every angle of corruption: Repressed conscience, gleeful high-times vanity, hunted horror. Seehorn was another kind of marvel, delicately tracking the death (and rebirth) of one guilty human soul. (Full review)

Kristen's list 

Credit: Michael Desmond/Hulu 

10. Reboot (Hulu)

Too many good TV shows about TV shows are short-lived (Grosse Pointe, Sports Night, The Comeback, BH90210). As of this writing, Hulu has yet to renew Reboot, a hilarious show-within-a-show satire, for a second season, so allow me to plead for its survival. Created by Steve Levitan (Modern Family), Reboot follows the cast and creators of the cheesy 2000s comedy Step Right Up — wannabe serious actor Reed (Keegan-Michael Key), insecure Bree (Judy Greer), newly sober Clay (Johnny Knoxville) and sheltered former child star Zack (Callum Worthy) — who reunite to make an updated version for Hulu. Though the pitch came from indie filmmaker Hannah (Rachel Bloom), who wants to give the series a darker spin, the streamer pairs her with a veteran showrunner, Gordon (Paul Reiser), who happens to be her estranged father. Like most shows about the TV biz, Reboot shows no mercy to the industry it's exploring — "You're looking at the guy who greenlit the fifth season of The Handmaid's Tale," boasts one exec, when Hannah suggests her idea might be too "edgy" for him — but it also wields the tropes it lampoons to produce heartfelt, character-driven comedy. Come on, Hulu, where's the renewal? Lock Reboot down now, and I'll forgive you for that regrettable rehash, How I Met Your Father.

9. Severance (Apple TV+)

It began as a moody, atmospheric, borderline draggy sci-fi drama about grief and the religion of capitalism. It ended with the best season finale of the year, a thrilling, suspenseful feat of race-against-the-clock agony. In between, Severance — about a group of Lumon Industries employees who have had their personal memories surgically "severed" from their workplace memories — constructed two distinct worlds filled with characters who just want to put their shattered lives back together. The lightly comic/fully tragic underdog adventures of Mark (Adam Scott), Helly (Britt Lower), Dylan (Zach Cerry), and Irving (John Turturro) blended stylized workplace drudgery with twisty mystery, baroque art with a "waffle party" straight out of American Horror Story, and creeping menace with poignant romance. (Was there a sweeter TV couple this year than Turturro's Irv and Christopher Walken's Burt?) Let us thank Keir for this freaky fable, which reminds us that even the most powerful corporations are no match for the human heart. (Full review)

Credit: Pablo Arellano Spataro/HBO 

8. Los Espookys (HBO)

Tati (Ana Fabrega) believes she's a famous novelist, even though all she's written are leaflet-length bastardizations of classic works like Don Quixote and 100 Years of Solitude. After a group of female authors explain to her the difference between writing and transcribing, it finally clicks. "I understand," she says. "Respect is earned, not stolen." Andrés (Julio Torres) keeps taking advantage of his friend The Moon (Roma's Yalitza Aparicio Martinez), asking for favors when he loses something in the dark ("Can you just go full for a second?") and failing to introduce her to that famous comet like he promised. Seeing the hurt on The Moon's face, he's overcome with guilt and offers her his dangly silver earring, which she's always admired. "I can't keep being selfish," he sighs. The world of Los Espookys is bizarre and fantastical, but the heart behind it is 100 percent real. The second (and final, sniff) season of this singular bilingual comedy brought another bounty of multi-layered humor and earnest emotion, plus a priceless Shakira-themed sight gag. Even at its absolute weirdest, Los Espookys was scary good.

Credit: Suzanne Tenner/FX 

7. Better Things (FX)

It is not an exaggeration to say that there will never be another show like Better Things. The unique vision of writer-director-star Pamela Adlon, Better Things was both the extremely specific story of Sam Fox (Adlon), a middle-aged actress/voiceover artist and single mom living in Los Angeles, and an intensely relatable exploration of modern womanhood. The fifth and final season finds Sam thinking a lot about her personal history — creeping on her childhood home, learning about her Jewish ancestors — because she's afraid of what's ahead. "The meanest thing that can ever happen to you is your kids grow up," she laments. But as her children — Max (Mikey Madison), Frankie (Hannah Riley), and Duke (Olivia Fox) — build their own lives, and her maddening mother Phil (Celia Imrie) starts a new chapter overseas, Sam finds her way to an epiphany. Life doesn't end when the nest is empty. "I like where I am," she marvels. "I'm just realizing this right now!" Better Thingswas masterful at finding glints of beauty in the day-to-day mundane and magic in the drudgery of motherhood. We will never have another show like it, but I'm profoundly grateful that we had it at all. (Full review)

Credit: Karen Ballard/HBO Max 

6. Hacks (HBO Max)

 "Read it to me." Those four words, delivered with chilling quietude, prefaced the most emotionally devastating scene in Hacks to date. After her impetuous writing partner, Ava (Hannah Einbinder), confesses to sending a drunken, vitriol-fueled email about her to some TV producers, famed comedian Deborah Vance (Jean Smart) demands to hear it in full. The letter is vicious — "Deborah Vance is a bully, and the worst kind: one who thinks she's a victim" — but the truth hurts for a reason. In its lively and touching second season, Hacks took Deborah's show on the road while taking its central duo to gratifying new levels of introspection. Meanwhile, we were treated to more time with the magnificent ensemble, including Deborah's tightly wound manager, Jimmy (co-creator Paul W. Downs), and his hilariously checked-out assistant, Kaila (Meg Stalter), who spin workplace toxicity into comedy gold. Though the season ended on a heartbreaking goodbye between Deborah and Ava, Hacks will be back, and it's a delight to know these two aren't done telling each other brutal truths.

Credit: Elizabeth Fisher/Paramount+ 

5. The Good Fight (Paramount+)

Democracy is beginning to boil like the proverbial frog in the final season of The Good Fight, Robert and Michelle King's wildly funny and prescient satire about These Uncertain Times. "If we'd all just drop our political buffs and talk to each other about reality shows," muses Liz Reddick (Audra McDonald), "then maybe we'd…" But this is no time for optimism: Rioters (the Proud Boys? Antifa?) are clashing outside her Chicago law offices, and someone just threw a hand grenade into the firm's elevator. "I used to believe in progress," frets Diane Lockhart (Christine Baranski). "But here we are. Roe v. Wade. Voting rights. Like the last 50 years never happened." For Diane, there are only two options: Stay and keep fighting, or walk away—from the law, the country, even her Republican husband, Kurt (Gary Cole). Season 6 expanded the stellar cast (Andre Braugher as Liz's visionary new partner, Ri'Chard Lane; John Slattery as Diane's dreamy doctor, Lyle Bettencourt) and delivered the reality-adjacent drama we've come to expect. A billionaire (Jon Benjamin Hickey) tries to buy the Democratic party; a well-funded group of Black activists begins shipping white supremacists to Antarctica. In the finale, Liz gives Diane a pep talk for the ages: "Things can always get shittier." No series has ever understood our country more.

4. Better Call Saul (AMC)

"Go ahead! Spill your guts! Put on your hair shirt. See what it gets you!" Shouting down the line at Kim Wexler (Rhea Seehorn), Jimmy McGill (Bob Odenkirk) thinks he can scold his estranged ex-wife into ignoring her conscience. But Kim takes his sarcastic advice, confessing to her role in the death of Howard Hamlin (Patrick Fabian). And what does it get her? Freedom. Not from her self-made prison of suburban Florida hell, with all its midcentury modern, Miracle Whip misery — but from years of shame and Slippin' Jimmy-abetted ethical rot. The torment leaves her body like demons at an exorcism as she rides a city bus. Better Call Saul was already the best TV prequel ever made. In its final four episodes the series morphed into an impeccable epilogue, giving its soul-broken central couple the comeuppance and catharsis they so desperately needed.

Credit: Merrick Morton/ HBO 

3. Barry (HBO)

The beauty of Barry is in its contradictions. As Fuches (Stephen Root) sent a "vengeance army" of grieving families after Barry (Bill Hader), the hitman comedy became unfathomably bleak. Julie (Annabeth Gish, in a haunting turn) accidentally shoots her son, Kyle (Alex MacNicholl), as they wait to ambush the man who made her a widow. Sally (Sarah Goldberg, fierce and fantastic) loses her first taste of TV stardom and descends into a morass of resentment and rage, ultimately beating an attacker to death with a bat. An imprisoned NoHo Hank (the inimitable Anthony Carrigan) is forced to listen as his friends are devoured by a wild animal in the next cell. But somehow, season 3 of Barry was also one of the funniest shows of the year. Think of Barry's call with customer service for a bomb app ("Uh yeah, my app isn't syncing with the Bluetooth on the device I'm trying to detonate?"); the stoner wisdom of Mitch (Tom Allen) the beignet guy; Sally's meeting with a TV exec (Vanessa Bayer) that mostly consists of goofy noises ("We're looking for less ayyyyyy and more uh-ehhh!"). It's said that comedy equals tragedy plus time, but on Barry, they coexist brilliantly.  

2. Reservation Dogs (FX on Hulu)

The pack is in danger of splitting up in season 2 of this ingenious indigenous comedy. Oklahoma teens Bear (D'Pharoah Woon-A-Tai), Willie Jack (Paulina Alexis), Elora (Devery Jacobs), and Cheese (Lane Factor) are growing up, but they're also starting to drift apart. Maybe it's because being together without their fifth rez dog, dearly departed shitass Daniel (Dalton Cramer), just hurts too much. Or maybe that curse Willie Jack put on their rival, Jackie (Elva Guerra), boomeranged back on them. The transcendent sophomore outing featured wonderful spotlight episodes for the young leads — Cheese is sent to a dreary group home; Willie Jack communes with her ancestors while visiting Daniel's mom (Lily Gladstone) in prison — and gave us more of the estimable ensemble. Officer Big (Zahn McClarnon) accidentally gets dosed with psychedelics and trips his way into a white supremacist sex cult. The aunties (Jana Schmieding, Natalie Standingcloud, Sarah Podemski, and Tamara Podemski) spend a bacchanalian weekend at the Indian Health Services conference. And Dallas Goldtooth drops in and out like a comedy tornado as Spirit, Bear's glib guide from the other realm. "Listen up, little f---er. I'm trying to give you some ancestor teachings here." Aho! You have our attention.

Credit: Juhan Noh/Media Res/Blue Marble Pictures/Apple TV+ 

1. Pachinko (Apple TV+)

Every night, Mozasu (Soji Arai) "adjusts the nails" on the machines at his Pachinko arcade. "Everyone does it," he says, tapping the pins on the game — a sort of vertical pinball machine — with a hammer, making it harder for players to guide the ball where they want it to go. "Most people think if they can flick the handle just right, they will win. But they have no control over the outcome. Not really." The game of life is similarly rigged against the sprawling cast of Korean characters in Pachinko, Soo Hugh's exquisite adaptation of Min Jin Lee's bestseller, but they never stop playing to win. At the center of it all is Mozasu's mother, Sunja (Minha Kim, in a breathtaking performance), whose life in a Korean fishing village in 1924 is upended when she becomes pregnant by the wealthy Koh Hansu (Lee Minho, almost unbearably dashing). Forced to emigrate to Osaka, where Koreans are viewed as less-than-human, Sunja (played in later years by Oscar-winner Youn Yuh-jung) faces poverty, racism, and oppression with steely reserve. Over eight time-hopping episodes, Pachinkofollows several generations of Sunja's family — including her grandson Solomon (Jin Ha), an ambitious banker whose Japanese colleagues still treat him as an outsider — as they build lives in countries that are not their own. Shamefully snubbed by the Emmys (psst, voters—there's no rule against nominating two Korean dramas!) but blessedly renewed for a second season, Pachinko is the year's biggest TV triumph, odds be damned. (Full review)

And the worst... 

Credit: Murray Close/SHOWTIME 

The First Lady (and all prestige-reenactment TV)

Look, we get it, everybody wants to win an Emmy. But this year, the industry cranked out an embarrassing number of series that existed solely as awards bait. Showtime's tiresome anthology The First Lady had celebrated stars, meticulously crafted costumes and wigs, and precisely nothing insightful to say about its subjects — Eleanor Roosevelt (Gillian Anderson), Betty Ford (Michelle Pfeiffer), and Michelle Obama (Viola Davis) — beyond "Recorded history is more interesting when an Oscar winner acts it out." But First was not the last offender: Inventing Anna, The Dropout, WeCrashed, Joe vs. Carole, George & Tammy, and so many more — all expensive, well-made shows that had everything but a point of view. There were a few exceptions, like Angelyne, a cheeky deconstruction of celebrity myth-making, and The Thing About Pam, a campy spoof of true crime TV. But most of these true-life tales took the Madame Tussaud's approach to storytelling — look, isn't the resemblance uncanny? — or worse, re-traumatized their subjects without their consent (Pam & Tommy, Dahmer—Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story). Please let 2023 be the year that the limited series genre finds its way back to fiction. I can't handle any more truth. —K.B.

Big dumb stupid prequels

Did you know Sauron was a babe? And did you know that young Princess Leia hung out with Obi-Wan Kenobi? And did you know that before the Halo people went to Halo, they talked about going to Halo while doing other stupid things? Absurd money flowed into pointlessly backwards franchise extensions this year. The worst results were nigh unwatchable: See Obi-Wan Kenobi's deplorable CGI and The Rings of Power embarrassingly transforming Galadriel (Morfydd Clark) into an immortal sap. All the dreck made dutiful mediocrity look more appealing, which I think explains the vast over-praise for Andor (he is so boring) and House of the Dragon (when did everyone in Westeros lose their sense of humor?). It's a problem when the standout prequel of the year was Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, a perfectly reasonable adventure that explicitly ignores every narrative innovation of its franchise's past few decades. —D.F.

Credit: Macall B. Polay/HBO 

The Time Traveler's Wife (HBO)

A blessing, really, to find a show where nothing works. Miscast actors say "funny" banter that is only creepy. The time travel mechanics are over-explained yet incoherent. Everything cute is disturbing, while everything disturbing is hilarious. You'll laugh at mom's decapitation; you'll laugh at the amputated feet. —D.F.

Credit: John Johnson/HBO 

Westworld (HBO)

Wrong to beat a dead horse, I know. But what if that dead horse spoiled all its wonderful early promise, successfully wasted Tessa Thompson and Ariana Debose, kept trying to make digital heaven happen, refused to stop the ridiculous resurrection twists, and featured multiple scenes about scaaaaaary flies? Shoot it again, pa. —D.F.

The Terminal List (Amazon Prime Video)

Okay, okay, this SEALcore revenge fantasy isn't worse than any of the other dadly action extravaganzas certain streaming services keep producing. But I can't think of a more complete waste of star power than Chris Pratt's lead role as a Navy badass carving a bloody swath across foes corporate and political. The actor himself was an executive producer, which means even he doesn't realize how much himself he's missing here. The old throwaway charm is completely gone, replaced by sub-Eastwood squints and unconvincing flexes of beefy sorrow. —D.F.

A Better end for Kimmy and Jim: On the set of Better Call Saul's series finale

The Good Fight series finale review: When a happy ending isn't very happy

Severance review: Adam Scott discovers that work is hell in wistful sci-fi thriller

By Kristen Baldwin @KristenGBaldwin

By Darren Franich @DarrenFranich

[kookieswan]

Amaranth Ballad I - Rose

Guardian!Jimin x Guardian!Taehyung (surprise), Background Bestie!Jungkook x Royal!Reader

Word Count: 801

Genre: Royal!AU, Semi-Modern!AU, Fluff, things get a tad spicy.

Summary: Watching over the Princess is their duty, but that doesn’t mean the lovers can’t enjoy themselves while doing so.

Notes: Wrote this on the plane Thursday night, posting it now because I finally edited a tiny bit lmaooo. This was requested by my beautiful 🧶anon! Also it’s in third person which I am not used to sooo… Takes place in the Amaranth Series!

Tags: @parkdatjimin @sugarflywme @chieftoadturkeynickel (lmk if you wanna be added)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jimin…” Taehyung shifts from foot to foot, dark cloak covering most of his face. Like clockwork, he and Jimin had followed the princess as she snuck out, Jungkook hot on her heels as they fled the castle. Jimin looks up at Tae, eyes sparkling with humor as he slides a hand up the other man’s arm.

“Shhh it’s fine, my love. They won’t catch us, they’re too preoccupied with each other’s company.” They stand high above the princess and Jungkook on a rooftop, side by side as they keep an eye out for trouble. The fae doesn’t look perturbed at all, a tiny smile gracing his plump lips as Taehyung’s brow creases even more.

“It is getting dark…” The suns slowly dropping over the horizon, shrouding the garden the two stand I’ve run darkness. The princess and her companion don’t seem to mind, giggling as they sit in a bed of flowers. Jimin’s own laugh rings out quietly as he wraps his arms fully around Taehyung.

“She’ll be fine Tae, Jungkook won’t let anything happen to her. Even if something were to happen, we’d handle it.” It’s true, Jungkook would rather die than let anything happen to her, Tae knows this. It doesn’t stop the worry though.

“I worry.” The smaller man presses a soft kiss against his lovers shoulder, fingers digging into the cloth of his cloak. Jimin hums before craning his head up again, lips pursed, eyes thoughtful. The sparkle in the dying light, his wings fluttering behind his back slightly.

“As do I, but we need to lend our precious petal some liberties. The poor thing constantly has to sneak out for any semblance of freedom. I feel bad…” The amount of times they’ve let the princess get away with things they shouldn’t would probably seem staggering to others. They always keep a watchful eye though, it’s their duty as her guardians. Taehyung continues so watch dutifully, standing in place like a statue.

“He takes good care of her.” Tae tilts his head to the side, watching the two younglings interact. Jungkook picked a flower at some point, now placing it behind the princesses ear with practiced ease. It doesn’t go unnoticed that his eyes flick around, looking for threats before drawing his full attention back to her. Good boy.

“That he does. He cares for her deeply. Deeper than I think either of them know… Only time will tell, I suppose.” Jimin doesn’t let go of Taehyung, if anything, he holds on tighter. He never talks about it, but he can feel the pain the poor woman goes through, the anguish that courses through her veins silently. He wants to take it away, but he can’t. Jungkook can however… Jimin sighs, snuggling against his love, burying his face slightly into his side.

“I love you.” Jimin’s eyes flash upward to Taehyung quickly, surprised by the sudden statement. It’s not unwelcome, just a shock to hear so suddenly. It doesn’t stop the fae from grinning steadily, eyes crinkling at the affectionate gesture.

“As I love you, forever and always my darling.” He leans up, and Taehyung leans down diligently, allowing for Jimin to leave a soft kiss at the edge of his lips. With a sudden rustle, both men glance down, watching as the other two start to walk back toward the castle. Not a long jaunt for them, shorter that usual.

“Ah, they’re heading back inside. I believe our work here is done Taetae.” Jimin goes to move, pulling Taehyung with him, or trying to at least. The taller man doesn’t budge though, causing Jimin to look back in confusion. He stands tall, eyes slitted ever so tightly, mouth curled up as he raises a hand to the Faes cheek. Jimin stays quiet, letting the cold fingers caress the skin there, and then run over his lips gently.

“Taehyung…?” The man gazes at him with so much intensity, eyes dark, almost blacked out completely as he appraises the other without shame. He brings both hands forward, cupping the smallers face before leaning in for a real kiss. It’s soft for a moment, but the intensity raises quickly, Jimin’s left gasping as Tae slips his long tongue into his mouth, exploring it for the millionth time. Taehyung pulls back just a bit after he’s satisfied, lips still against Jimin’s as he mutters out darkly.

“… I want to take you to bed.” A lout giggle leaves Jimin this time, like a bell in the air echoing through the garden. Taehyung doesn’t mind it, pulling the other man flush to him, hands wrapped tightly around his small lover. The fae brings a bind up to his chest, the skin hot enough to feel through his cloak as Jimin nearly purrs out a reply.

“Then take me, take what’s yours.”

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream V // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen-year-old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, heartbreak, fluff, talk of death and fluff.

Words: 4.4k

A/N: We’ve come to the end of the Distant Dream mini-series. I truly enjoyed writing this with my whole heart. @merceret I told you I’d use Lucy’s Cordial somewhere in the series. All parts are located in the linked masterlist.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The massive changes between the ’90s and 2021 slowly but surely started no longer seemed startling as it had been at first. Carlos had helped you assimilate to homeschooling once he’d admitted he knew about the boys. Ray was still kept in the dark. 

2020 ended on a high note. Mostly. With the years in Narnia providing you with the knowledge you flew through schooling. Then you took a job as a waitress at a coffee shop, one similar to the shop the band performed in. The downside to the end of the year was for the band.

Despite performing at the Orpheum, the band hadn’t received as much traction as Luke had desired. They were a step closer to the dream but not as far as the entire band had wished. During Julie’s Christmas break, Luke had overworked the band with little breaks.

“Hide me.” Julie hissed from behind the counter of Ancient Grounds. The Puerto Rican musician escaped the studio to have lunch with you.

Unfortunately, Julie failed to see that without the entire band together, Luke would go to what makes him just as happy. You. That’s precisely what happened as Luke walked in through the entrance of the coffee shop.

“He’s still pushing more practice?” You asked, stacking the clean mugs on the shelf with complete focus. How odd it is to go from being Queen to working in a city as a waitress.

“I love him like a brother, but I feel like my fingers are gonna fall off from playing the piano constantly.” Julie sighed, sliding down the counter to sit on the floor hidden from the approaching guitarist and from your manager.

“Hey!” Luke grinned once his hands fell on the counter to lean over on the balls of his feet. His lips pressed against your right cheek before he fell back onto his feet.

Not a single soul in the half-full Ancient Grounds batted an eye to your awkward stance when Luke kissed you. Not since the boys had become tangible and visible to the general public when they wanted. 

“Look to decide to grace me with his presence.” You teased. Your foot nudged Julie in her thigh to urge her to crawl to the end of the counter.

“I have no clue where Julie is. Reggie dipped to join Ray in his errands, and Alex is somewhere.” Luke shrugged, stepping aside when an older gentleman dropped a tip in the jar before leaving.

“Pick a number.” You told the male with one of your dimples on display.

“Eleven,” Luke responded, bouncing on the balls of his feet at the regular game you played together.

Each visit, you’d split a dessert from the menu with Luke along with his favourite mug of tea and your drink of choice; even he knew he didn’t need caffeine with his energy. That was Luke’s favourite thing of being brought half alive from the golden glow they’d received. You were sure Reggie had cried upon eating your Tia’s best recipe.

“Nanaimo Bar Cheesecake. A limited-edition from our Worldwide Treat menu. It’s Canada’s month.” 

Luke followed to the counter’s end, where the sweets were kept on a glass viewing shelf. With careful movements, you slid a perfect triangle of the cheesecake onto a beautiful plate. The half-ghost retrieved it to your favourite spot in the garden patio. Julie used the time to sneak out the door with Luke’s back to her.

“What is a Nanaimo Bar?” Luke questioned upon you joining him at the iron-wrought table. One teacup accompanied by a teapot with Luke’s tea and a mug of your drink on an emerald tray.

“It’s a no-bake dessert. The base is a chocolate graham cracker and coconut base with the middle layer a cream filling. The top layer is a thin layer of semi-sweet chocolate.” 

Luken nodded, “Ancient Grounds loves cheesecakes.”

“Addie adores inventing new versions of cheesecake. Her best is the Creamsicle Cheesecake during the summer. A staple on the menu.” You responded with a twinkle in your eye. You may not look like the Queen you once were, but you were just as invested in learning about people as you’d done with the Narnians.

“What’s your favourite dessert?” Luke questioned.

“I’m pretty partial to the chocolate cookies Addie makes.” You grinned, leaning closer to the male across from you. You hesitated in continuing, “In Narnia, the pastry chef Cair Paravel employed always had these gorgeous desserts with Edmund in mind. Turkish Delights with a secret ingredient.”

Luke’s smile grew as you talked about the other home you had. A place you rarely spoke about now. You hadn’t even returned to the basement to see the wardrobe like you had before.

“I wish I could have seen Cair Paravel. It always sounds so magical when you talk about it.” Luke’s tone was wistful paired with the twinkle of his hazel eyes.

“It’s a breathtaking place. Everything is lively in Narnia, and after the Witch was defeated, we ruled peacefully for the most part.” Your e/c eyes unfocused on your surroundings to recall all the wonderful times spent in Narnia.

The times you shared a table with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver in their home over the years snacking on the homemade jams. To the times you listened to Mr. Tumnus playing everchanging lullabies on his flute. Even walking the beaches with Lucy in hopes of catching sight of Aslan again. Of gossiping with Susan over the many suitors that came for her hand.

“If you could do it all over again knowing the outcome, would you still do it?” Luke questioned with a tilt of his head. He’d shed the flannel jacket as the sun rose higher in the sky.

You nodded, “Absolutely. The Pevensies were some of the greatest friends one could ever hope to have.”

As usual, Peter wasn’t spoken of in light of the ache that resonated in your heart and the awkwardness Luke felt. A poor choice of avoiding your once husband instead of communicating on the topic.

“Have you ever thought of trying to find them?”

“No point. Peter would be ninety-seven now as the oldest, and Lucy would be eighty-nine. If I recall, it was 1940 for them when we went to Narnia. It’s possible Peter may have joined the war in ’42 when he was eighteen, so who knows if he lived.” Luke was surprised by the nonchalant reaction to the potentially grim outlook on your former in-laws.

However, Luke knew the truth, that you greatly missed the four people who became family during your disappearance. You could fool Julie and Reggie, but you could never fool Alex or Luke no matter how much you tried.

“I’ll see you at home? My break ended.” You swiftly cut off any more talking of your former life. Luke merely watched as you stacked the dirty dishes, only leaving Luke’s cup and teapot.

“I should get back. Julie’s most likely back in the garage from sneaking back.” Luke’s hand pushed through his messy curtain of brunette hair. His words revealing that he’d known Julie had been in Ancient Grounds the entire time.

“How’d-”

“When she sits on the floor, she taps the heel of her shoe on the floor. Same rhythm.” Luke smirked as he chugged the last of the tea, “Don’t tell her. I like when she fights a smug smile with that certain light in her eyes.”

The brotherly role Luke had taken on with the Molina girl was heartwarming, to say the least. Sometimes Julie would begrudgingly ask for advice about her feelings for Nick to Luke’s amusement. He adored being able to tease her.

“I’ll see you later.” 

The boy dropped the correct change for the tea on his way out the door into the bright sunlight. Like clockwork, he’d turn into the alley to become intangible to poof back to the studio. 

The rest of the day passed by like a breeze in the coffee shop with the late lunch rush and then the dinner rush the busiest time. Jess gave you a ride home in her truck as usual with a promise of a cupcake of Julie’s as payment.

“Did you see him?” 

The sudden voice startled you so much your hand couldn’t help but grasp at empty air by your side. Alex screeched as you swung to face him on the Molina driveway.

“Alex! Good Aslan, you startled me.”

“...were you reaching for a sword?” Alex questioned, appalled by your reaction. Your e/c eyes rolled in response.

“Isn’t the saying old habits die hard?” You prodded the baby blue of Alex’s long sleeve shirt. One of the shirts you’d often stolen from him, “And no. I didn’t see Willie.”

Your heart clenched as soon as Alex’s shoulders dropped in defeat once more at the absence of the skater. It had been months now with little sightings of the skater you had yet to meet. The boys kept your presence on the down-low to avoid Caleb’s interest.

“I hope he’s okay,” Alex muttered under his breath. The elder Mercer began gnawing his lower lip in worry.

Gently you interlaced your hand with his hand, his deft fingers playing with the braided bracelets on your wrist. The bracelets had been a Christmas gift from Julie and Flynn with the colours of the sunrise. It grounded Alex more often than not.

“You told me the Club travels around the world. Maybe Caleb’s not in America; maybe his ego needs to recover from his loss.” You shrugged, tugging the teenager into the house. Ray barely waved from his work computer.

Ray Molina had welcomed Alex, Reggie and Luke into the family when he met them in person the day after the Orpheum performance. He’d accepted that Alex was your older brother and had been in Switzerland for boarding school. He understood that Luke and Reggie came as a package deal with Alex, so the boys had worked to clean out the basement.

A few visits to second-hand doors brought furniture for the basement renovated into the boys’ shared suite. Alex still spent most nights in your room; he still feared you'd disappear from his life again.

“I hope you’re right.” Alex muttered in false hope that something would go his way for once, “Oh! The band received an invitation to some underground music festival in England during spring break. We’re hoping to convince Ray and Julie’s aunt to let us go.”

And you could see the band practices would be growing for that breakthrough with the band. And you were correct in your guess merely hours after going to sleep.

At five in the damn morning, Luke burst into your attic bedroom to drag your less than enthusiastic brother from his sleep. You bet your ass you hit the teen in the face with your pillow, which meant you had to crawl out of bed to retrieve the pillow.

“Asshole!” Alex exclaimed as Luke roughly poofed both of them to the studio. Julie swaying sleepily in her sweater and pyjama pants, waiting for the two.

Spring Break 2021 (March 26-April 2)

The youngest member of the tourists proudly displayed her smile, catching sight of the bed and breakfast in the English countryside. Julie had been floored when Ray had given his permission to the foreign festival. 

Ray couldn’t hide his excitement for the band, plus all-expense paid, receiving the invite via a relatively small record company. 

“First birthday back together,” Luke spoke from your side. Hands intertwined together in the cool wind of England. His arms were covered by his flannel coat in the unfavourable weather of the day.

You hummed, “Never thought I’d be celebrating my seventeenth birthday in England during 2021. Besides, I’ve already been seventeen.”

“I always knew I’d bring you to all the countries in the world.” Luke’s tone was matter of fact, staring at the stage being built under a woman’s guidance in her mid-30s.

The bed and breakfast had a lovely history your tour guide Martin had enthusiastically told on the train ride from the city. 

The man with spry greying hair pointed towards the old train station providing facts that interested most of the group. Luke’s arm tossed over your shoulder focused on the songbook, a new one, open in lap. Luke and you had slowly but surely evolved from shy brushes of skin to holding hands and then Luke’s arm over your shoulder. Chaste kisses on cheeks while you reassimilated into the dating world.

“In 1940, this train station deployed countless trains filled with evacuating children away from London during the Blitz. Filled with returning soldiers, mothers sending children to safety and children were torn from all they knew. Each child had a tag to identify them.” Martin explained intently, speaking to the group his organization had assigned him to.

“Where did they go?” Reggie curled into the travel blanket he’d bought specifically for the trip.

“Anywhere safe for them and where they could be cared for.”

“This route is one of many the evacuations used. The bed and breakfast we’re heading to holds a great history as well. It was once the Manor of Professor Digory Kirke during his life and passed down through generations throug-”

Martin’s story faded into the black abyss as sleep took you over by the soothing motion of the train and Luke’s warmth. Luke met the gaze of Alex. The two guys shared a sweet smile solely for the relaxed features of the younger Mercer.

“This is just another step in our journey for Julie and the Phantoms.” Your words warmed Luke Luke when he noticed you cemented your position in his life. You saw yourself in the future of Julie and the Phantoms as a faithful supporter and friend.

“Luke Patterson, correct? I’m Eva.” Your eyes widened, meeting the eyes that reminded you of someone. Just on the tip of your tongue, “My wife Diana will be a few minutes. We’re still getting the stage put together.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. How many people are you expecting?” Luke questioned the older woman. His mind snapped into business mode for the band.

“This is our fourth year putting on the festival at this location. This is the first year we added a wild card option for fans to vote on. Your band rocketed ahead of the other bands.” Eva explained, keeping her eyes on the woman you dubbed as Diana. The pure love in Eva’s eyes is a call to the yearning in your chest.

“I thought a recor-”

“Technically, yes, a record company flew you out. Diana started a small record label a few years back. Cair Oom Records. She’s the first person in both our families to step into a non-traditional career.” Eva explained to the now interesting young couple.

Luke was interested in the record label’s history, whereas you focused on the label’s name. Cair Oom. A call to your Narnia days you remembered. 

“Cair Oom?” You interrupted the conversation in pure curiosity. Your eyes drinking in the features of Eva, her freckles and brown eyes mirroring a person from your past.

“The label name?” Eva continued once you nodded in response, “It’s from a childhood story my family passed down. Diana was close to my great-aunt before we moved out here to run the bed and breakfast.”

“Of a dream of a dream. Spare Oom.” It was whispered in the breeze straight in your ear of a voice you vividly recalled—the disembodied voice with the same freckles as Eva but with chocolate brown hair instead of strawberry blonde.

“Y/N? You coming?” Luke’s concerned hazel eyes bore into your distant ones wandering the hills of the property. You hadn’t even noticed Eva leaving towards the Manor.

Your e/c eyes search for the owner of the youthful voice but come up empty. The only people you saw included your group with the odd workers setting up under Diana’s supervision.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Luke stepped right up in front of you, “You’ve been out of it since Eva mentioned the record label.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” You mumbled, following the woman up the path. Luke stared lost as you disappeared into the door. Eva entered.

The woman stood outside a door within the home, “I never knew what she meant. Not until I saw you Y/N.”

Your foot stumbled back when Eva turned with a soft smile you vividly recalled on a certain Pevensie. Eva unlocked the door to a room with only a picture hung on the wall.

“Narnia.” You breathed, stepping right up to the detailed painting of Cair Paravel. Your fingers tracing the beautiful frame holding it up.

“Correct. My Great-Aunt, in her adult life, adored painting in her past time. It was rare she told Narnian stories, but my mother loved them so much she told them to me as a child.

“Who’s your-”

“My name is Lucy Eva Baker. I was named after my other Great-Aunt, but I prefer going by Eva.” Eva’s words pulled a deep gasp from your throat. Tears building as the truth settled in the room.

Eva shared the same smile and brown eyes as Edmund Pevensie did, even the mature aura wrapped around her. The maturity Edmund had grown into during the fifteen years in Narnia. Without a shadow of a doubt, Eva Baker was the granddaughter of your former brother-in-law.

“Your-”

“Edmund’s granddaughter.” Eva finished with a sympathetic smile, “You featured heavily in each story. I always knew Narnia wasn’t merely a story.”

And then the conversation stuttered when you finally noticed Eva spoke mostly of learning of everything by her mom and Susan. Not a mention passed Edmund being her granddad. A piece of your heart broke, and it seemed the older woman saw it happen.

“W-what happened to…” You couldn’t even choke the question out in the room. Eva’s hand reached out to grasp yours in her own hand.

“I can’t tell you much as that reason that will become clear but in 1949 just shortly before my mom was born there was an accident. Grandpa Edmund and Peter were waiting for the train at the station. The train wrecked, killing the train occupants and many people in the station.” Eva was quick to catch you as a piercing grief-stricken scream exploded in the room.

In the Manor’s tea room, the band and Ray enjoyed a genuine tea time with Diana. Ray and Diana traded stories of their young sons while Reggie restrained himself to savour the food. English tea time begging for genuine manners.

Luke raised his cup to lips before it dropped to the saucer upon an exploding anguished wail from upstairs. Thankfully the cup didn’t break as the American guitarist sprung himself in the direction of the wails—Alex hot on his heels with a call to his friends.

Your screaming drowned out the furious stomps of feet racing in the halls of the Manor to the entrance of the room. Luke’s heart shattered at the pure anguish coating your broken features. Alex roughly pushed his way to tug you into his arms.

Alex’s large hand cupped the back of your head while he rocked you in his arms, “Shh. Let it out.”

“No!” You screamed into Alex’s shoulder. You couldn’t acknowledge Luke’s comforting hand on your shoulder, “N-no.”

“I got you. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Alex murmured in your ear so softly you almost didn’t catch what he said. Luke dropped to his knees by your side. The three teens unaware as Eva excused herself for your privacy. Eva had watched her great-aunt Susan break every time she spoke of her late siblings.

Seconds passed or maybe years as it seemed to happen to you. But soon, you simply rested against Alex staring at Susan’s painting. Barely blinking in the room causing you suffering. You barely responded to anyone as you battled the grief. You faded in and out of daydreams as the bands performed. Days mixed together. Time didn’t exist to you. You were aware enough when Julie and Ray invited you to shop in London.

To everyone, including your surprise, you agreed. The three half ghosts joining in fear you’d shatter again. Eva and Diana held hands watching the car disappear in the distance carrying a group of musicians. An echo of Eva’s words replacing in the back of your mind.

“Three of five drink at high tide. Four of nine and five of nine stand apart by time. A drop of Valiant’s potion will begin the time once before frozen.” 

“Are they-”

“Yes.” Eva spoke before her wife could finish the sentence, “She’ll be returning to Narnia. Decades separating her from the Pevensie siblings.”

Eva was correct. At the station, the location was painful as it was Lucy, Peter and Edmund’s last place they’d been alive. Ray disappeared to use the restroom, leaving the five teenagers to wait for the adult.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, rubbing a spot on your arm with a grimace. Your eyes glaring at your tall older brother, “Don’t pinch me!”

Alex shook his head, “I didn’t pinch you!”

“Luke!” Reggie squealed, jumping away from the guitarist with a pout on his full lips. The bassist rubbing his stinging cheek, “These cheeks are reserved for my Grannie!”

Luke scoffed at his friend, “Why would I risk the chance of you biting off my finger Reginald?”

“We have bigger problems than whose pinching us! I’m losing my damn mind! First three himbos fall out of nowhere, then a girl trips out a magic wardrobe and now this!” Julie snapped, staring at their environment in the train station tunnel, “I need to be committed!”

You watched breathlessly as a strong gale storm literally tore pieces of the train and the walls of the station apart. Through the train windows, you watched as a bright blue sky increasingly grew. The colour is so clear and vivid in only one place you knew.

The train blew by. The wall behind you changed into stone—the floor into the sand.

“What the fuck?” Alex demanded, twirling around on the new scenery of a beach in what was supposed to be a train station. The poor male kept being thrown off-kilter since the alley in 1995.

You knew deep in your heart where you were. Especially when four people of different heights stood with their backs to you. One individual, the shortest, turns upon feeling eyes on her back. And at the same time, you spoke.

“Lucy!”

“Y/N!”

The two girls ran straight into each other’s arms sobbing in elation and relief at finally seeing each other after a long year apart. The seven additional people who joined the duo collapsed on the ground. Alex cleared his throat.

“Y/N? Are you going to intro-”

“That’s Queen Y/N.” Peter snapped towards the stranger with a pink sweater on. Peter could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen a man wear pink. 

“That’s my sister.” Alex snapped, standing at his full six-foot height, pinning a glare on the other teenager. Peter scoffed in response. His face faltering upon finding your hand encased in a male shorter than the blonde.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Peter knew this man was the unseen third person that filled every conversation and room between Peter and Y/N. Peter was very much aware that you weren’t in love with him. He lived with the knowledge for a decade, pretending it was he that you deeply loved. Seeing the person holding your heart hurt.

“This is my brother Alex Mercer and our friends Julie Molina, Reggie Peters and my...this is Luke Patterson.” You gestured to each of them; the Puerto Rican musician shell shocked. Julie now knew why that talking lion you spoke of sounded familiar. Narnia had seen one other visitor years before Julie was born.

Rose Molina’s bedtime stories for her children involved a lion named Aslan and a magical wardrobe made from a special tree. Julie recalled the feeling Narnia birthed if in the world as Rose described it. 

“Mercer as in...?” Edmund trailed off slowly.

“My horse. Yes. I guess subconsciously, I still remembered where I came from.”

“These are my friends Susan, Edmund, Lucy and...Peter.” You softly spoke of the eldest Pevensie. His blue eyes sadly meeting yours.

A fondness growing at the sight but a pain blossoming at the heartbreak in his features. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see Peter had put two and two together on who Luke was to you. And while Peter desired to fight for you, he knew it was a lost cause; time cruelly separated you outside the world of Narnia. You both deserved happiness, so with great pain, Peter let you go.

“C’mon!” Lucy shouted, racing out of the cave on the bright sunny beach. The rest hot on the heels of the youngest member of the conjoined group. As you all goofed around on the beach, you told the Pevensie family all about Julie and the boys.

“Welcome to Narnia, my love.” You murmured to the boy that held your heart in his gentle hands. Luke Patterson beamed. He finally got the girl of his dreams and visited the place you hold dear.

The fun aspect of being in Narnia with both of your family came to a halt when you discovered the ruins. Cair Paravel had become a pile of broken stone and sadness. Not a single Narnian in the distance nor the Beavers or Mr. Tumnus.

“What?”

Julie and the boys’ presence became static in the background while the former Narnia royalty pursued through the ruins. They found the chessboard and the gifts Father Christmas gave them during the Winter Revolution. 

Something clicked within Lucy as she almost robotically walked to each half-dead boy with her Cordial in hand. The room went silent as Lucy fed each phantom a drop of the medicinal potion. As soon as Alex closed his mouth, all three boys were enveloped in a blinding silver light.

And the true magic happened. For the first time in twenty-six years, three hearts began pumping blood. A previously frozen clock began beating to the sound of those hearts. The magic of Queen Lucy’s Cordial finished what Julie had started; the three formerly half head phantoms became living humans once more.

What a magical place the world of Narnia is.

(Above is the teacup and pot Luke uses in the Ancient Grounds coffee shop!)

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9-1-1 Taglist:

[back-and-totheleft]

Interview with Roger Ebert

Oliver Stone said he was standing in a post office in Bali, talking on the pay phone. He'd gotten up early so he didn't have to stand in a long line for the phone.

What's it like there? I asked.

"It's a strange island. There are a lot of demons here--Balinese devils. You don't sleep very much. I almost drowned two days ago."

You what?

"There are very strong tides in the ocean. I was swimming with my kid and I guess we got too far out and we got swept out about three or four hundred yards. The waves were pounding and it was very, very scary. It took an hour and a half to get back in."

That's what it's like with Oliver Stone. You pick up the phone and 30 seconds later he's fighting for his life.

"We basically kept our heads above water until they could get some boards out to us," he said. "It's really wild out here."

How old is your son?

"Sean is only 9 years old. He's not the greatest swimmer in the world."

Were you facing the possibility that you might die?

"Absolutely."

I love talking with Oliver Stone because his life is such a drama, such a striving against man and nature. Maybe that's why his films are always so charged up; they partake of his personality. Another reason his films fascinate me is that they're like the weather report: Updates on the psychic climate of the nation.

The new one, "Natural Born Killers," is about a media circus surrounding a couple of gleeful mass murderers who go on a killing rampage and become celebrities. Stone was still editing it when the O. J. Simpson case broke. In his movie, crowds were cheering the killers. In real life, crowds were lining the L.A. freeways to wave at O. J. driving past in the white Bronco.

Mahatma Gandhi once joked about running fast to keep in front of his followers. Oliver Stone must feel the same way about real life. His movie "Wall Street," with its famous speech about greed, came out about the time they arrested Michael Milkin. And now, perfectly timed, here is this crazy, brilliant, chaotic movie "Natural Born Killers," a satire about the way we have turned violence into a TV spectator sport.

Not many people make movies like this because not many people get this angry and still retain their sense of humor. It is being compared to Kubrick's "A Clockwork Orange" in some quarters, but I think his "Dr. Strangelove" is a better match, because it's funnier.

-”Interview with Oliver Stone,” Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times, Aug 1 1994 [x]

[theragingmoon]

would i recommend books i read in 2018 to past me (or anyone)?

- orange is the new black: no, the series is so much better and more than enough - a clockwork orange: kinda, yes - the gender games: hell yes - little fires everywhere: yes - the long way to a small, angry planet: yes - simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda: yes yes - everything i never told you: no, especially if you’ve read little fires everywhere - i’ll give you the sun: yes - juliet takes a breath: yes, but get ready for bad editing/proofreading - sofia khan is not obliged: yes - why i’m no longer talking to white people about race: definitely yes - wuthering heights: no, not really - leah on the offbeat: no - kindred: yes! - harmless like you: god no - home fire: YES - the mothers: yes, but a bit worse than expected - norse mythology: yes, good enough - the surface breaks: no, stick to any other versions of the little mermaid or louise o’neill’s first two books - they both die at the end: yes, cute and sad - exit west: no, underwhelming and could be much much better executed - more happy than not: no, not really because they both die at the end is enough and better and this is really depressing - landline: just no, the worst rainbow rowell book when all the others are great, especially carry on - summer days & summer nights: ummm yes? no? i’m torn because it’s enjoyable and there are memorable stories and characters but my true love gave to me is much better as it lives up to its expectations and summer days & summer nights is much more about loss and grief than you’d expect and want from a seemingly light summery read - the underground railroad: yes - the miseducation of cameron post: yes - brit(ish): yes, educational - run, riot: very big no, even delving into gentrification, corruption, and police brutality didn’t worth it for such bad writing - we are okay: yes, but very quiet and covers different topics than i expected - mother country: yes, very important, even if some of the stories got a bit repetitive by the end - convenience store woman: yes, but it helps that it’s very short - winter: yes yes, much better, coherent, current, and relatable than i expected it to be

- verdict: 22.5 out of 32 yes, 9.5 out of 32 no

- check out my goodreads page on these and let me know if you want my thought on any of them by sending me an ask or something

[trashayfanfiction]

Blanca+Ash: Feelings of Loneliness

SPOILERS

I think it needs to be edited a lot more before posting on AO3, but with the new ep that just came out FUCK I need to post this. The hospital scene in BF is more heartbreaking than the ending to me. No words, no touch, only longing for what you can’t have. I cry.

...........................

Lost Souls, Salted Wounds

Feelings of Loneliness

               He couldn’t stay. He knew he couldn’t stay. Escaping with Eiji was a good dream, but an unrealistic one.

               He took the offer of ‘retiring’ in the Caribbean. He didn’t want to die yet, with that memory to keep him warm, the heat, the sun, and chocolate skinned women did nothing for him. Eiji would be safe away from him. The plane ticket was tempting, but naïve…. Just like the rest of the sweet man. There was no way he could escape himself and his fate. If he stayed, violence would follow him. He wanted to keep that friendship.

“You will always be my friend,” He tried not to cry while reading that letter. He’d thrown the plane ticket away to not be tempted. The thought of escape was too painful. He kept the letter. He read it over and over.

               He felt better when he didn’t read it. Tears stained the page, and now he didn’t know if they were all his own. Maybe there were tear marks on it when he first received it… he didn’t quite notice then. He was shocked and in awe, and his heart fluttered. His heart ached. His heart had never ached and wanted like before that letter.

He felt loved. It was returned.

He tried to maintain his appetite. He’d wrote a letter of his own, letting Eiji know why; that they needed to be realistic. It couldn’t happen. Eiji would probably forget about him in a couple years anyways. Hopefully.

               He hoped Eiji would forget him in a couple years, because he wanted everyday the other’s presence. He knew what he was missing. It was hard to go back.

“It is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all,” - Alfred Lord Tennyson

               The Japanese man’s presence owned more than a small part of Ash. He always would… He shouldn’t have added his feelings in that letter. Eiji was sentimental enough that a small part of him would never forget that note even if he choose to move on.

               He remembered the first time he met Eiji….

Not shy in the slightest, too excited to know he should be scared. The kid was charming. He was definitely still a kid at nineteen when they met, by the time he was twenty-one he was more of a man. He had seen Ash’s horrors and some of his own. Ash hated that seeing horrors was what made you an ‘adult’.

“I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down. That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty…you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are.” J. D. Salinger

He knew Eiji didn’t exist to make him feel better, but it was nice to have someone ease his pain. Ash chased that feeling. It was crushing him. He wished he didn’t know what it was like to feel better.

“To be able to say: I loved this person, we had a hell of a nice time together, it’s over but in a way it will never be over and I do know that I for sure loved this person. To be able to say that and mean it, that’s rare.” -Hemingway

He was a monster that knew love. It was hard going back to being just a monster. Here in the Caribbean he was supposed to be leaving even the monster behind, or at least running away from those who knew what he was. He didn’t know how to live. He was here with one of the men who fed into him being a monster, despite wanting a normal life for the both of them.

“The heart was made to be broken.” Oscar Wilde

  He told Blanca to go shove it with the literature. He’d had enough of people telling him about human experience. “The true loneliness, my ass.” Telling him that others felt the same didn’t make him feel better.

He threw the books all over their large library. He found no solace in them. His former teacher looked surprised but let him have his explosive tantrum while looking on from his green leather reading chair. Ash knew it was immature to have this kind of hair trigger, but this made it feel better, at least for the time being.

He stood in the room fuming, frozen, breathing hard, choking, before sinking to the floor with aid of one of the hardwood pillars. His face was wet. He hid in his hair, the blonde he always hated…. What gave him the attention to have the life he did. His hair, his face, his eyes…. He wanted to rip them out. But he would be a victim anyways, no matter how he looked. People just wanted power. They all did. He remembered being harshly punished when he gave himself a buzzcut when he was 12. Dino had hated it. When they found he needed glasses, he wanted the thickest ones so he could to hide his face. Dino picked out stylish slim wire frames. They made his hair look more golden.

Eiji had liked his hair and eyes, but had never prized him for it. Eiji prized his company…. Any kind of company…. His friend, not his only friend, but even Shorter revealed that sex was a motivator with him at first….. Eiji was genuine curiosity.

Sergei slowly put the books back on the shelf.

“Imagine how you’d feel if he died,”

Ash didn’t want to think about it.

“You’d feel worse. And you’d have known it was coming,” Soft thumps of the books sliding back into place, the only sound in the room aside from his sniffling. Sergei was probably making the sound in an attempt to be courteous,

“It’s going to hurt for a while, but it’s the right call. When I first lost my wife-“

“Don’t you think I fucking know! I know! Alright?! That’s why I’m here with you! God! I know what can happen to him, that doesn’t mean I don’t fucking miss him okay!?”

Choking, sobbing again, but more subdued this time. “I almost lost him so many times. Each time……”

Less anger, more pain, before the roles switched and venom was back. “I still don’t forgive you.” Barbed wire curling at his throat, “You could have helped me from the beginning,”

Blanca shook his head, “I didn’t know what it would do to you after accepting. I regretted taking that job,”

“But you’ve carried out all of them. How many jobs have you regretted?”

The older man smiled at him, “None,” ….Not reaching his eyes.

Ash growled, “….Don’t lie through your teeth,”

“Just because I haven’t liked jobs, doesn’t mean I regret them,”

 …………………………………………………………………….

 These outbursts didn’t happen like clockwork. Sometimes they were provoked, sometimes not. Blanca offered counseling with his psychology degree and shared experiences, but Ash declined.

Blanca told him he didn’t approve of avoiding problems, but to let him know the option would stay open for if it was ever needed. “I don’t like seeing you like this, and I don’t want you blaming me,”

…………………………………………………

Ash would come around in his own time. He was a wild animal after all. If there was nothing to fear, he could become bold and allow himself assistance.

…………………………………………………………………….

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Ash asked. He sat on the edge of Blanca’s bed, toing the carpet. His face was still salty. Tears had dried into uncomfortable crusts. He hadn’t asked much. Hadn’t opened up much, but it as a start.

“This was always easier when I slept next to him,”

“You’re an adult. You don’t need anyone to sleep next to you,” Ask for help, not a crutch.

               “Yes I do,”

“I’m not a substitute for your lover,” Eiji was a crutch. Overall good, but Ash seemed set that the Japanese man would heal all his wounds. Experience told him it wasn’t true. You healed yourself. Other’s helped, but it was you who made the decision.

“He wasn’t my lover!” Ash protested and flinched. He did his best to hide a blush. Not his lover, his friend… He had other friends, but Eiji was different. He let Eiji in. He wouldn’t mind if it was Eiji.

“Perhaps not, but given time you would have got there. I know you,”

“No you don’t! If you did, you’d know this would help me! I need sleep,” He pleaded, “I haven’t slept in so long…,”

This hurt child next to him. Young man, at least he should be… Sergei wanted to help… “I don’t think this is a good idea,”

“I trust you, I can sleep next to you,”

Sergei bit his cheek, sighing one last protest.

“This is…. Strange,” He wouldn’t say wrong.

“You will owe me for this, just so you know. I find it appalling that pajamas are needed to appropriately to share a bed, especially in this weather,”

Ash laughed. Eiji made similar horrible jokes.

What the man found for pajama’s was as dorky as Ash had imagined. Proper pajamas. Orange and ivory vertical stripes. He made sure to tease him about it. Ash wore gym shorts and a T-shirt. … one of Eiji’s old shirts.

               It no longer smelled like him, but the thought was there.

               “You shouldn’t have that,” Blanca told him before they lay down, poking the little skeletal fish on the left breast. It wasn’t something Ash would have picked out on his own.

Ash clutched it protectively, curling up in the sheets as the other opened his book.

               “It’s fine,” Ash grumbled,

“You’re not letting go of the past, how do you expect to move forward?”

“You still have pictures of her,” Ash accused him. He was given a sideways glance.

“I know, but I don’t dwell on them. I try to live in the now,”

………………………………………

Asleep they didn’t touch. He hadn’t expected to be held anyways. It would be weird from his teacher. This wasn’t like sleeping next to Eiji, but maybe the presence……

 ………

 He tried to strangle Blanca in his sleep. Getting himself quickly pinned. The ex-hitman had bolted awake, but anyone would have been roused by the screaming insults. The blonde’s breathing quickened, it caught in his throat. His asphyxiation woke him, eyes wide in terror. Flashbacks of being pinned under so many other men. He gasped. A nightmare he said. The men were back.

The older man nursed his bloody nose. A lucky hit.

“….I’m sorry….” Ash whispered quietly.  

“Are you tired now?”

“Yes,” The adrenaline had worn off and he slept soundly.

But he didn’t sleep in Blanca’s bed after that.

………………………………………………………………..

They were not alike. Ash regretted the people he killed, but it was the people who chased him who tormented his thoughts; living people. The dead couldn’t hurt him anymore. He was only haunted by the innocents that were killed in the crossfire. He worried for his soul because he didn’t regret killing the bad men …. Not often anyways.

Sergei was the opposite; Many of the people he killed never wronged him. He tried not to debate whether they deserved to die. He didn’t worry for his own soul. That might have meant Ash had more soul to save than he did.

Ash was more solid in his convictions. Almost everyone he killed, he did so venomously. He didn’t regret. The regretted the fringe effects, the violence that twined around him and the people he loved. ….Killing in anger was something Sergei related to, but often didn’t practice.

Ash was in tune with his feelings, he didn’t know how to accept feeling numb. He had no vices such as drugs, booze, partying, or sex. He might have adjusted better to daily life if he knew how to escape and have fun.

Eiji was his only vice.

………………………………………………………………

   ………………………………………..

 “Gh-Get out!” Blanca sat up in bed, woman quickly following him, clutching his arm. The blonde was standing at the foot. He had robotically walked into the room. Cold green eyes stared him down. Expressionless but judging.

The girl next to Blanca giggled at the young man, sheet slipping lower on her naked form.

“Who’s he? He’s booold, and cute,” She pinched her partner’s stubbly cheek, bright and begging. He skin was flushed. She was topless.

“Do you think he should join?” She whispered in the hitman’s ear.

Slick tan skin. His teacher was blushing. Maybe from the girl, maybe his presence.

“What are you doing here?”

Ash quickly looked away, giving the window a death glare. Straight face. Why was he here? Why was he compelled…. He knew what Blanca was doing in here…. What he was always doing.

  Those distant pretty eyes looked like jewels in the sunbeam from the window, watching particles of dust floated in the room as his body was jostled.

 Ash got up and left when it was over. He’d stayed silent the whole time with the exception of a few grunts that might have been just for show. He and Blanca touched once when they were in bed; Large hand attempting to guide Ash’s in a more practiced way to touch a woman. The younger flinched away. Perhaps frightened, embarrassed… Blanca couldn’t tell. He could usually read these things.

Ash had came to his bed looking for attention.

 He left when the woman was pressed between them.

……………………………………………………………………..

This wasn’t fun. This was high anxiety.

……………………………………………………………………..

  She made him feel large. He wasn’t used to that feeling, especially during sex. …someone so much smaller than him, under him….. This would hurt. He shouldn’t like this. ….he did kind of like this though. It felt good…. Kinda. Warm around him. Slick. Gripping him, urging him closer to the edge of pleasure.

Did she want this? She basically threw herself at him. ….but he threw himself at many men.

 He wished it was Eiji.

Eiji never did anything he didn’t want to do.

Ash admired that. Standards to the point of being stupid. Stubborn. Unwavering, unable to be budged. Sure of all the decisions he’d made. Unapologetic about them.

Eiji……..

He wondered if there was anything about him Eiji regretted.

Eiji was so strong. He admired him. Loved him. He wanted to stay. Stay forever.

……………………………………………………………………..

  …………………………………………………………………………………………

“I have a gift for you,” his teacher stated, standing at the counter making breakfast. He looked comically domestic in his blue apron, hair pulled back into a much too casual ponytail to be classified as ‘pristine’.

“Nnnggh?” Ash slumped against the table. His morning head was fuzzy, but Sergei insisted on keeping a regular sleep schedule. Breakfast at eight-thirty was seen as ‘reasonable’.

A mug of black coffee was pushed to him. “That’s not the gift though,” the other stated, “this is the gift,” A small piece of paper was slid in front of him. Square, torn on the corner of a page. Easy to be lost.

Okumura Eiji

A phone number

Izumo, Japan

He blinked up at his teacher. The sad concerned gaze looked down on him.

“Give him a call sometime if it’s what you need,”

Ash wanted to ask if he would monitor that call.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

He kept the note on his mirror for a few weeks. He didn’t look at it; he didn’t use his mirror. He didn’t like seeing his pale skin, green eyes, blonde hair….. objects of lust.

               Only Eiji didn’t lust after him. ….well, he guessed Blanca didn’t either. He had thrown himself at the other man, seeking validation. He used the other’s weaknesses to get what he wanted. …but Blanca let him use those weaknesses. ….Maybe Sergei wasn’t strong. Ash bit his lip.

He just needed to know what it was like to have sex with someone he liked. What he was missing…. He wanted to be in love again. He knew Sergei and sex wasn’t the answer. It wasn’t a patch.

               He was self-medicating…. Being self-destructive about it. He knew this…. But he just wanted to wallow in it. There was nothing good. Nothing that could make him happy like Eiji. He was throwing a tantrum.

A tantrum like a child.

   One night he called that number. It was a reasonable time in Eiji’s timezone, he’d checked. He didn’t know how much he wanted the other to answer.

               His fingers trembled as he stood in the kitchen, dialing the numbers. Every click of symbol pressed echoed through the room. He huddled around the phone on the snackbar. His toes played with the rungs of the barstool.  Anxious. What would Eiji say? They hadn’t spoken. He didn’t know Eiji’s reaction to his letter.

 The phone rang. It rang so many times Ash almost hung up. He was trembling.

“Moshi moshi?” A young girl. Eiji’s sister. He smiled at the memory. Eiji wasn’t alone.

“Okumura Eiji?” He tried to hide his accent. To sound normal.

She said something in Japanese before covering the receiver and yelling across the house. He smiled lightly. She was young, or at the very least carefree. After a few seconds there was chatter in the background. Male chatter.

Ash’s heart began pounding. He was shaking so badly. He clutched the receiver to his cheek.

“Hello?” Light confusion, inquiry. An English response. The sister’s voice in the background. Snickering, teasing.

Eiji’s voice. Eiji’s breathing.

He opened his mouth. No sound could come out. He didn’t know if he was breathing. How he wanted…. Everything. To see him. To hear his voice. To hold him. To apologize….. and no sound would come out. He felt moisture drip down the receiver onto his hand. Sweat. Tears. He couldn’t take it.

Something. He needed to say something. Eiji would hang up.

“…..Ash?”

He needed to say something. A…..

“Are you there Ash? Is it you?” Relief. Hope. Disbelief. Joy.

……………All things he didn’t deserve.

He hung up.

He couldn’t be with Eiji again, he knew that. He wondered what the Japanese boy thought of the line going dead.

……………………………………………………………………..

 He didn’t know how much time passed. If Ash started counting the days, the days would never end.

  …………………………………………………………………………………………

“Hey kitten!” Booming voice echoed across their front room to where Ash was laying in a sunbeam. The window was warm, the beach was beautiful. “The phone’s for you,”

He grumbled, shifting, stretching out of his comfortable nap. He padded over to where Blanca was holding the phone against his chest protectively. “Now be nice. He told me what you did last time,”

Ash gave the older man a sour look, “Who the fuck is it anyway?” He unceremoniously grabbed the receiver.

A knowing smile, “You really should work on getting a better attitude. Maybe I should ask him to change that,”

“Ash!? Ash is that you! Thank gods you are safe!”

Green eyes went wide. He dropped the receiver. It clattered to the floor, shell cracking sending a small bit of plastic skittering across the surface. The phone was still working, he could hear Eiji’s frantic words muffled. They would be clear next to his ear. ….why?

He turned to Blanca in anger.

“You don’t want me to see him!! Why?!”

 Eiji could probably hear them.

  When Ash left, Sergei picked up the phone, brushing the shattered plastic into a pile and throwing it away. Before putting it back in the cradle, he checked it against his ear. Dial tone only.

“I’m sorry little bunny. Perhaps I’m too distressed to help. He is a handful isn’t he?” The room was silent.

Exiting the room he was met with an angry blonde franticly pacing the lounge. Lanky hands ruffling and pulling his hair, as if messing it up would help solve his emotions.

“You’re leading me on! Giving me his number! And then you do this!”

“I don’t know how to help you Ash. I want to, believe me,”

“You’re a psychiatrist, you shouldn’t be fucking up this bad!”

“I know,”

“Is it because you see yourself in me? Huh? Is that it? Because I think it is. Big difference though, Sergei, your wife is dead!! You can’t see her, even if you wanted to! Eiji is alive and I want to see him! I want to see him every day, so much it hurts. But I can’t because if I do THEN he’ll die. I can’t have him dying because of me. I can’t have him and I know that! You know that! You knew what would happen when you married your wife. I’m not that selfish. My own happiness is not worth hurting him!”

“I want you to be at peace,”

“Then let me fucking die already. You tell me to stay away, you tell me to get rid of his things, and then you do this!! You keep your wife’s momentos. You don’t move on. You don’t want to move on!”

“I understand death is tempting. You can hold someone in your heart without forgetting them,”

“It’s different when that someone is actually dead,”

“I don’t like seeing you like this. You’re stronger than this,”

“No I’m not. I’m tired of being strong. I’m so fucking tired,”

 ………………………………………………………..

“I want to know what it’s like to do it with someone I like,”

“Then you should have done it with him,” The comment was calm but biting. Another wall for Ash to fight. More and more of Blanca’s comments seemed to be biting. Ash was getting to him.

“You’re a psychiatrist. Shouldn’t you be able to help me?” Snide comments.

“It only works for those who want help. You don’t. You want to throw a temper tantrum because you faced the reality that you can’t be with your boyfriend without him getting hurt. You are blaming me for the option you chose,”

“Then give me what I want!”

“I care about you, but I don’t exist to make you feel better,”

“I fucking know that,”

“Then stop using people as crutches. Stand on your own two feet,”

Ash’s eyes met the floor. “I-I can’t.” He toed the marble floor…. He always hated the bougie places the men around him prided…. “I’ve been on my own for so long. I didn’t know how hard it was to be alone until I had him.”

He knew it sounded pathetic. Like he was giving up. He wished he could say he wasn’t always alone. He had Skip, and Shorter, and Blanca. Alex and the guys. He wasn’t alone before Eiji.

The Japanese man just had the uncanny ability to see through his bullshit.

…….his teacher also had this ability, but his teacher was centered in a harsh reality he’d rather forget. Eiji was naïve optimism, Blanca was well-worn reality.

He had always lived in reality.

  “I would like you to start calling me by my real name then,”

..……………………………..

    Ash curled against him. Sex had never sated his body before. For the time being it was nice. He didn’t know how many days it would last, but it made him feel connected to something. Someone. Someone who liked him.

But….It still felt dirty and wrong, just like all the other times he did it. His skin prickled. He wanted to scrub it off. Disgust. Even with someone he liked….. it would have likely been the same with Eiji, but maybe it would have been different.

               It was a strange feeling. He could see why people chased that feeling, the first half of it anyways.

                 For the first time, this feeling made the older man sick. He had rarely felt the second half of the feeling…. Regret.

……………………………..……………………………..

  Days passed, they never spoke of it. Ash never came looking again.

  ………………………………………………………………………..

The blonde ruffled through the boxes in the bottom of the wardrobe.

The tired man stood at the door. “You shouldn’t be so quite, Kitten. I saw you leave for my room, not making a noise can be suspicious too, remember.

Green eyes looked up at him.

“You didn’t keep her wedding dress?”

Natasha’s sundress. Yellow floral. Quaint buttons down the front. The young man held it in front of himself as if to try it on.

“Put that back,”

Ash had never heard that tone from his teacher. Almost panicked. ….good. He took a step closer, skirt swaying around his thin but no longer girlish knees. His shorts were hidden behind the fabric, it was almost as if he was wearing it.  He was still slim, he could still look good in this.

“I look kind of like her, don’t you think?” Evil. He saw it. Intent to slice to the core.

This one was not his wife.

“She was nothing like you,”

“You wouldn’t hit me and risk hurting it would you?” He hiked the skirt up, showing off his smooth thighs…. A disgusting gesture.

Natasha’s mother had made her that sundress to celebrate her acceptance in to university. Her family who would never see her again…..

“You need to put that back,” he repeated.

……………………………

 He was hit in the face and knocked to the floor. Not like combat training. Driven by an emotion.

“You’re not the only one who can feel pain, you selfish prick. Salt your own wounds,” Ash had never heard venom in the older man’s voice, “Leave mine out of it.” The emotion was only for an instant. A breaking point, quickly covered up by time and composure.

He felt good to know that Sergei had a breaking point, even when Blanca was untouchable. He reveled in that knowledge. He wanted to dig his fingers into that sore spot. As always, Blanca read him like a book.

“Don’t aggravate old scars, or I will kill you too,”

“Maybe I want you to kill me….” Still challenging.

He laughed to himself. This was like the stores his teacher gave him.

…………………………………………………………

They didn’t talk for the next week. Blanca barely looked at him. He felt a different kind of ache in his heart than before. There was still the yearning for Eiji, what he’d lost. But his gut told him it was disappointed in his actions. He had hurt someone, intentionally. He liked it. He could have chosen not to. He wasn’t supposed to like it. This man had just tried to help.

Would he take this out on Eiji someday?

 …………………………………………………………..

A few days later Sergei spoke. Worn, unkept. Mirroring Ash.

“You can’t stay here anymore. I’m sending you to Japan.”

[valencrime]

Hey guys! I finally wrote my first fanfiction! Special thanks to @clockwork-pyro​ for helping me edit this!

Words: 1653

Rating: I’m actually not sure. Yang does a good amount of swearing, but that’s about it.

Description: Yin wakes up to find that Yang is missing. Angst ensues. 

-----

Yin woke up bright and early, like always. Rising with the sun was just one of the many things Yin did to keep himself pure.

Of course, his bodymate Yang didn't agree with this philosophy. He'd sleep in until noon if Yin let him. So every morning, he'd have to wake up Yang and wait thirty minutes until he actually was awake.

It could be worse, but it wasn't preferable.

Yin reached over to touch Yang's face, only to feel pillow.

That was strange. Had they gotten skinnier somehow?

He sat up, but there was no resistance from Yang's body weight.

This was very strange.

Yin stood up from their bed. Moving was surprisingly easy. Usually he had some control over all limbs, but Yang sleeping generally made it a little harder. What was going on here?

He, groggily, made his way over to their vanity and found himself staring back. It was just him!

In a panicked state, he ran. He felt the air rush by him, and he found himself in the lobby. He didn't stop, though. Everything was cold as he felt the air stream past him and escape from his throat as he ran.

There were other people here, too. He saw their faces blur as he ran.

He saw Trophy, the Cherries, Paper, Salt, Pepper, and Cheesy.

But no Yang.

Someone was screaming, but he didn't know who.

Oh, that was him.

Trophy took charge and grabbed him, "WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING."

Everything was spinning, and swirling, and the pressure. The air was so hard to get and he thought he was going to die right there.

Trophy began shaking him, "COME ON, I don't have all day!"

Finally, Yin forced the words out, "Yang is missing!" It was hoarse and wheezed, but it was enough.

Trophy dropped him with a roll of his eyes, and everyone started walking away. Where were they-? Why were they-? Didn't they hear him?! Couldn't they see him?!

Didn't they care?! Yin was dying, he couldn't get air! He was dying, trembling on the floor! And Yang-!

Yang.

Ya ng.

"Hey, are you gonna be okay?"

His eyes refocused. It was the Cherries. They were sitting next to him now.

The left Cherry kept talking, "This happens sometimes, right? You can unfuse?"

Yin tried to shake no, but he wasn't sure if they could even tell with all of the shaking he was already doing, "W.... We need a chemical, we can't do it by accident."

"Oh."

The Cherries didn't get it. They were practically the same person, they didn't have any worries about "getting along" or "compromising".

Keeping happy took work. It took discussion and giving things up you wanted and work. Working yourself to the bone.

But it was worth it.

Or, Yin thought it was, at least.

He'd gone from trembling to stiff in just a couple of moments.

He stood up, and he ran as fast as he could.

He might've heard them yell, but maybe he was just imagining.

Yang couldn't have gotten too far, because wasn't athletic at all! It was Yin that always forced him to do things!

He just had to run as fast as he could, and he could-!

Catch up-!

“Wait,” He thought, “Which direction would Yang have gone? “

Yin stopped.

“Where would Yang have wanted to go?” Yin asked himself, “Nearest city? Yin didn't know where that was.”

What if Yang had taken a vehicle? Yin couldn't just expect to run and catch up.

Yang could've left at any time of night. He could be...

He could be so far Yin would never find him already.

“Oh.” Yin fell to his knees, shaking. “O h.”

Yin was pinned to the ground by the weight of his emotion.

“O  h. . .” He whispered to himself again.

Yang was gone. He was gone. Forever. There was no way Yin could find him. How do you find someone? Yin wasn't smart. Yin wasn't fast.

Yin was just moral.

He felt warm, wet tears streak down his face.

Yin was alone now.

-----

Finally, his plan was coming to fruition.

For weeks Yang had been planning this. Night after night, when Yin slept, Yang had been preparing.

It had made for miserable days, but this was all going to be worth it.

Everything was set up just right. And by that, he meant everything was set up just ever so slightly crooked. Perfectly askew.

Soft chaos.

Nothing could ruin this mood, or steal this grin. Just imagining the way Yin would look when he realized Yang had done this. That he'd done all of this.

Yang took one last look around at his work, and decided that this was going to be one of the best days of his life so far.

Now he just had to get Yin.

Yang sauntered through the halls, vials in hand. He was so ready for this. When he got to their room, it opened without him turning the handle. Eh, he must've left it a little open when he left.

It was dark in their room. The curtains were still closed, and Yang didn't dare turn on a light. Yin was usually a sound sleeper, how else would he have managed to make him ingest the serum and do that bright splitting sequence otherwise, but it was about the time Yin woke up so he didn't want to risk it.

He tip-toed over, and peered at their bed.

Their empty bed.

What.

He took a quick glance at Yin's alarm clock, and his first guess was right.

He was late, and Yin was already awake.

"DAMN IT."

All this planning, and it was ruined just because he was a couple minutes late.

Yang balled up his fists and furrowed his eyebrows.

There went his mood.

Now he had to find Yin, and then convince him to come with him and Yang was feeling like smashing that damn clock.

So he did. And the vials.

He didn’t bother to clean it up.

Yang found the Cherries in the lobby, fidgeting their hands and looking confused.

"Where's Yin." His voice and face clearly told them. No shenanigans.

The right one pointed.

Yang went.

He took note of some recently crushed plants. Yin.

Where was he even going? Just into the woods for no reason?

Maybe he was out to pick daisies, or sing to some woodland creatures. That did sound like the sort of stupid stuff Yin would do if he left him alone.

It didn't really matter. If he was out here, then he hadn't stumbled across what Yang had been planning.

So Yang walked for a good long while. The plants were still tramped where he was walking, Yin had gone this way.

But why would he go so far? And damage so many in the process?

And then he found Yin under a tree.

"What are you doing so far in the woods, idiot?" He kicked Yin, "What's even so great about the w..."

Yin was crying.

“H-hey! I didn't even kick you that hard, man up!" Yang was glaring, but he couldn't hold the same face.

Yin's eyes were so wide and teary.

"WHAT'S SO GREAT ABOUT THESE DAMN WOODS ANYWAY?! I HAD TO WALK FOREVER THROUGH THEM TO FIND YOU, IDIOT." He'd squeezed his eyes shut, to avoid looking at Yin's pathetic display of emotion.

He felt Yin's arms wrap around him.

"Oh, now you're hugging me. After you ran into the forest to have a nap under a tree. Why would you eve-"

It was a little muffled from the way Yin's face was pressed up against him, but he still heard it just fine.

"I thought you were gone."

In a very rare moment, all of the anger left Yang.

"What?"

"I thought you'd gotten tired of me nagging you and you'd left and you were never coming back because you hated me."

"I do hate you!"

Yin began to tremble.

"Not-! Not that much! You really think I'd just leave, like some weakling?" Yang scoffed, "If I left just because I hated someone, I wouldn't be able to be anywhere. I hate fucking everyone."

"Oh."

"Plus, I'm not gonna just leave without grinding you into a pulp. Now come on, idiot, before you start getting ideas about me being anywhere as weak as you."

Yin shakily nodded, and Yang helped him stand. And they started the long trek.

What an imbecile. He really thought he'd just leave? Not without... A-absolutely destroying Yin first, body and mind! He wouldn't just leave in the night like a coward...

Neither of them attempted to make conversation. They didn't need to. Just the forest sounds, the rustling leaves and the tweeting birds, that was fine.

Eurgh, that sounded like something Yin would say.

But, before he knew it, they were back.

"Close your eyes." Yang said, and Yin did. He was so naive.

Yang led him through the halls of the hotel. He was good, he only walked Yin into a wall once.

Really, it would be irresponsible to not take advantage of such an opportunity.

But then. They arrived.

"Open 'em."

Yin did, and Yin gasped.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YIN YANG!"

There everyone was, standing and grinning, wearing triangular hats, in front of a banner that said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" in bright, colorful, crooked letters. Yang had made it himself that very morning.

There was a table set up with a big, lopsided cake. Paper plates, plastic cups, and cutlery cluttered the table around it.

And Yang was right. Yin's face was priceless.

At first, it was just a look of shock. But then he began smiling as he realized that. This was what Yang had been doing.

But then Yin started tearing up. "HEY, NO MORE CRYING. I'm the one who baked a cake I can't even eat!" Yang shoved him forward. "Come on, idiot."

[7r0773r]

Autobiography of a Corpse by Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky, translated by Joanne Turnbull

Now I understand: Any “I” not nourished by “we,” not umbilically attached to the maternal organism enveloping its small life, cannot begin to be itself. Even the mollusk hidden inside tight-shut valves, if one helps those valves by binding them with a tight metal band, will die. (Autobiography of a Corpse, p.13)

***

With a new day nearing, I began to consider how to convey everything without saying anything. To begin with, I must cross out the truth; no one needs that. Then variegate the pain to the limits of my canvas. Yes, yes. Add a touch of the day-to-day and over all, like varnish over paint, a veneer of vulgarity—one can’t do without that. Finally, a few philosophical bits and ... Reader, you’re turning away, you want to shake these lines out of your pupils. No, no. Don’t leave me here on this long empty bench: Hold my hand—that’s right—tight, tighter still—I’ve been alone for too long. I want to say to you what I’ve never said to anyone: Why frighten little children with the dark when one can quiet them with it and lead them into dreams? (In the Pupil, p. 60)

***

3. PURVAPAKSHIN

This name wound up in a notebook of mine years ago. I remember I was rummaging through English editions of ancient Indian texts, copies of the Vedanta and the Sankhya, commentaries and compilations, when I came across it: Purvapakshin. The Purvapakshin seems never to have existed, yet who of us would have the right to say “I am,” if not for the Purvapakshin? This man-myth was invented by Indian casuists for the sake of constructing antitheses. Builders of systems came and went—one after another. So many builders, so many worlds: Each one—be it Vyasa or Patanjali—brought with him his “yes.” And each one, having relinquished his “yes,” returned to death. But the man-myth Purvapakshin never died, if only because he was never born; he never said “yes” to anything or anyone because his name means “he who says ‘no,’” A defender of antitheses, the Purvapakshin objects to everything always; treatise after treatise, millennium after millennium. Therein lies this man-diagram’s sole existence: to trump every “yes” with his “no.” For me too the immemorial Purvapakshin is the non-dialectical personification of an Indian rishi. I can almost see and keenly sense him here beside me on my evening boulevard bench: Wrapped in ragged, many-colored stuffs, his stubborn bony brow bowed, he unpurses his thin, shriveled lips for the sake of a single, brief-as-a-blow “no.” Oh, how often have we—elbow to elbow, the Purvapakshin and I—on these noisy Moscow boulevards, amid the clangs and whirlings, the rush of lights and shadows, raised up over all of this, again and again, our “no.”

Yes, I am drawn to him, indeed I almost love him, him alone perhaps, this man who does not exist, with his “no.” I want to squeeze my temples between my palms, draw the whole world into my consciousness, and brandishing my “no” like a hammer, object to everything: smite what is above, below, and all around; strike near and far. This is my one happiness, however fitful, however sick: overturning all verticals; extinguishing the imaginary sun; entangling the orbits and the world in worldlessness.

I cannot make this life, which walks over me, other than it is or altogether nonexistent, and even so—I object; we object: the Purvapakshin and I. We do not want clockwork days; we do not want lives insured by State Insurance; we do not accept the ideas ironed into newssheets neatly folded in four; as in the days of the emperor Ashoka, so now, in this time of tsarlessness, he says and I repeat, he asserts and i concur: “no.” A persecuted and half-dead pauper, I cannot overturn all things, the houses that have sunk into the ground, all the lived-in-to-death lives, but I can do this: Overturn the meanings. Let the rest remain. Let it. (Seams, pp. 64-65)

***

7. STOLEN SOLITUDES

For everyone, reality is in one’s self. Yet every “I” is sewn into a “we”; from individuals—however loosely stitched together—comes a society, a kind of unit composed of solitudes. The strangest paradox of all is a city, connecting the unconnecting. Here the need to be alone nearly coincides with self-preservation: People survive so as to buy from each other, at a cost of ceaseless labor, the chance to be without each other. People hoard the coins from their art, their work, their thieving so as to acquire walls. In the countryside, far from human congeries, their solitudes are not protected, not bounded by walls, and so open to attack; in the city, they are organized, hidden behind blinds and walls, kept under lock and key, properly defended. Man, however, must be not only without man but without God; the tenet of divine omnipresence violates his right to solitude; that unblinking eye fixed on his life, peering through its mystical triangle as through a prison-cell peephole, must be removed. Hence the distinctive urban atheism of beings who, after a long day of rushing about among questioners and observers, of struggling frantically to break away from “we” to “I,” crave at least a few minutes of complete isolation, out of sight and reach of everything without. Thus does the silkworm, when its time has come, creep away in anxious search of stillness, soundlessness, so as to wrap itself in its cocoon. A city, too, consists of anxious creepers and a system of discrete cocoons, its only purpose. And of course a city is most city-like not at midday but at midnight, not when it’s all clamors and clanks but when it’s all hush and dreams: Only a deserted street with dead, rayless windows and rows of shuttered doors can fully explain a city. Yes, we can only live back to back; everything—from the small children on an  urban boulevard slapping together their separate cities, of sand and clay, to the corpses in suburban cemeteries lying in graves separated from one another by iron fences—everything confirms and corroborates this thought. 

I remember once, as I was pacing up and down the crooked camber of a side street before dawn, I heard first footsteps, then someone’s measured muttering. The footsteps broke off but the muttering continued. I walked toward the sound. By a gray stone pile, still hazy in the half-light, stood a man with his back to the wall; his legs wobbled, while his head looked as if it would come unscrewed from his coat collar. He did not notice me or the dead stone surround and, as if inscribed in an inviolate magic circle, went on rocking and raptly repeating: “God, thank God, doesn’t exist. Thank God, God doesn’t exist.”

This sounded like a declaration of solitude. Walking past the drunk, it occurred to me that the only thing that still interested me was following human solitudes, solitary souls who were trying—with comic ineptitude and tragic obstinacy in the thick of this human hive—to inscribe themselves in their own inviolate circle. As my hours of leisure were long and many, I decided to devote myself unstintingly to stealing solitudes. That’s right. Indigence and indolence always incite one to sin: to steal solitudes. (Seams, pp. 70-72)

***

And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself.      And the chief priests took the silver pieces, and said, It is not lawful for to put them into the treasury, because it is the price of blood.      And they took counsel, and bought with them the potter’s field, to bury strangers in.     Wherefore that field was called, the field of blood,  unto this day.

I

With these four verses I could fill a dozen tomes and turn them into ten adventure novels. In fact, let’s review the images: a handful of coins thrown down on the temple flags; a man’s neck in a noose; an avaricious potter none too mindful of the money’s smell; a striking title—”The Price of Blood”; a burial ground for stravaging strangers; and a masterful last verse that takes that square of earth earmarked for the dead by its four corners and stretches it unto... But that will depend on who decides to develop this theme—a realist, a Symbolist, or a Romantic.

I’ve been circling round the third verse for a long time and once I got inside, though by a different door; I tried to picture the potter’s field, cracked and sere with the scorching heat, strewn with dry-needled thorn branches, a hundred square cubits or thereabouts, surrounded by cart tracks and paths, a web of roads delivering strangers done stravaging. Here the theme asked me a question: Why had the chief priests in buying land for a burial ground bothered only about foreigners and not about their own, not about Jerusalemites, or even about themselves? The fourth verse explains: the price of blood. The chief priests, who conducted the proceedings against Jesus with a subtle grasp of canon law, cannot be accused in this case of improvidence: one cannot bury one’s own in earth besmirched with blood, whereas with strangers one needn’t stand on ceremony. Farther on, however, the theme began to frown: strangers there were many, land there was little; the bodies multiplied, not so the burial ground. The field of blood, like a pool without drainpipes (the kind never found in math primers), was soon filled to overflowing and the theme brought to a standstill; one had to apply to the ghosts trailing over the graves, to appeal to restless strangers who even in death could not lie still till Judgment Day. In short, one had to resort to the sorts of stale Romantic stunts that neither censorship nor good taste (a rare coincidence!) will let pass.

So then, still circling the third verse, I entered it through “bought” and chose for my hero the thirty pieces of silver: unromantic, ringing, countable, relatively imperishable. After all, who and what remained of this gospel story about deaths: one man was crucified; another hanged himself; still others (the strangers) were buried one after another in the field of blood. Only the thirty ringing coins remained in circulation; wherever those silver pieces roll, my story shall follow. I’ll begin. (Thirty Pieces of Silver, pp. 162-63)