#perfect description of my philosophy

[sungod-ya]

you are joy looking for a way to express.

it's not just that your purpose is joy. it is that you are joy.

you are love and joy and freedom and clarity expressing.

Energy - frolicking and eager - that's who you are.

we can't get away from the acknowledgment that you are Pure Positive Energy that translates into the human emotion of joy. — Abraham Hicks [op]

[kaledya]

Constantine's character introduction:

Description: Constantine is the first child of Lilith and Lucifer, 6 years older than Charlie and the crown prince of Hell

-Constantine is rational as a person, he doesn't approach anything with emotions, he sees everything as a plus or minus or as moves on a chessboard.

-Constantine would probably tell you the perfect way out of your problems if you went crying to him for advice, but he wouldn't try to console you emotionally.

-Constantine has the philosophy that everything is fair game for victory, if victory is the result it doesn't matter how much of a monster he is on the road, for example if it means protecting Charlie he will gladly do things to make Charlie hate him and not regret it, after all his sister will be safe even if she hates him.

-He's calm and patient and proud and egoistic, and his pride and ego comes from the intelligence and power that he has in general. 

-Constantine is one of hell's foremost intellectually and is seen as having great potential even by his family. Even as a child he was able to grasp very difficult spells with ease and never had a problem memorizing spells due to his photographic memory.

-But this intelligence has a side effect Constantine can't feel emotions very well, he can't comprehend them very well, he can't empathize with someone, sometimes he even thought that Charlie inherited the angelic and humanoid parts of his parents (it could be said that Charlie has enough empathy for both of them). 

-And since he knew what hell was like, he knew that if he was powerless he would not be able to protect his sister or himself in the future, so for a period after his 20s he devoted himself only to his education and self-development. 

-As Constantine became more interested in politics, he taught himself how to be a snake with snakes, which again began to corrupt his own personality.

-It is really hard to get him angry, even when he is angry he keeps his poker face and never shows his emotions.

-He doesn't tolerate disrespect in any form and doesn't hesitate to punish anyone (except his family members and the people at the hotel (he knows that if he hurts Charlie's friends, it won't end well).

-As genius and calm as Constantine is, there's a mad genius underneath, sometimes spending weeks in his workshop and library researching and Charlie has to drag him out of there, or he can be brilliant at the hardest things and terrible at the simplest.

-Constantine is a really great wizard, often inventing his own spells and combining what he has (he may have blown up parts of the palace a couple of times, but on the bright side he created a repair spell).

----

Constantine is heterosexual, but he has never been in love, nor has he ever had a lover (he has the same capacity to understand love as a tree. He doesn't have) Lust has never been something that attracts him. For Constantine, it doesn't matter how attractive someone is, if that person can surprise him with her intelligence and see her as his equal, he will consider having a relationship with her, but lust is just salt on the dish.

in fact when Asmodeus asked him if he ever planned to make a lover he said "Lust is not something that interests me, my dear uncle, if one day I meet a woman who can surprise me with her intelligence and who I can consider my equal, I may love her. end of story''

-----

After the disappearance of lilith, Lucifer didn't want to be so involved in royal affairs anymore, he needed a break, so Constantine started to take care of most of the royal affairs and this increased his authority a lot over the years and now all the nobles look at the prince as a king instead of a prince.

Speaking style: 

Constantine's voice is cold, he speaks like an British aristocrat from the 1800s, he chooses his words very well, he is a sweet-tongued snake, and he likes to analyze the other party and reveal their weaknesses in his speech.

Fun facts:

Since his eating habits have been transferred to his own palace, he usually eats cereal, fried chicken and dessert-like things, except for royal gatherings (I mean, he's half Angel, so he knows his health won't be affected by his diet, so he doesn't care)

Constantine has owl features, walks very quietly and can easily turn his head in the opposite direction. He has feathers on some parts of his body. His hands are like bird claws and he has great vision.

Since he and Charlie are half Angel, 4 hours of sleep is equivalent to 8 hours of sleep for them, but despite this, Constantine sometimes stays awake for days and tries to fulfill his need for sleep by sleeping for 2 days in a row (this does not exist at the moment, Charlie disturbed him and helped him to establish his sleep pattern)

Relationships:

Lucifer: Constantine had a close relationship with his father as a child, he saw him as a role model and loved spending time with him, constantly following him around the palace like a duckling. And he did his best to make his father proud, asking him to teach him new spells and enjoying their time together. But as the years went by, they started to have differences of opinion and so on. Now, especially after what happened between Lucifer and Charlie, they had a fight and never spoke again. Lucifer is upset about this, but Constantine doesn't feel much because he thinks it's the right thing to do, even though he loves his father to the core.

Later in the series, when Lucifer overcomes his pride and apologizes to Charlie, Constantine forgives him and the ice between them slowly begins to melt.

Lilith: Constantine was always closer to his mother and developed many of his personality traits after her example, and Lilith was very interested in her son's upbringing, taking care to raise him in a strict manner, teaching him everything she knew and showing him what kind of king he should be in the future.

Charlie: Constantine loves his little sister so much that he would burn every ring of hell seven times for her. And although he doesn't have much empathy etc., when Charlie is sad he is always there to support her as much as he can, he always treats his sister with respect.

When they were little the two of them were mischievous enough to do things to destroy the palace, so Constantine's most fun memories are the times she spends with her sister and as much as they love each other, like all siblings they sometimes fight or bicker, when they were little it was normal sibling bickering, when they grew up it was usually about Constantine's inability to take care of himself properly, but now, even though they don't see each other much, they often call each other and they have a really healthy relationship and even though their opinions may be divided at times, they both respect and value each other.

Serenity: Constantine describes Serenity as an interesting case. As an overlord, Serenity was the only one Constantine noticed because she was someone who tried to gain power through sweet talk and knowledge, not brutality, a woman who built her empire through mind games, and she did something surprising for a sinner: she spread her power not only to the guru ring but also to other rings, which is why Constantine found her intriguing.

When they first met at the hotel, they naturally got along well, but as time went on and they were both in the same areas because of Charlie, Constantine got to know Serenity better and realized that he liked spending time with this sinner, even though even he was surprised by it. Serenity was smart and cunning, Constantine rarely found someone who could keep up with him in conversation, and he and Serenity shared many hobbies, so over time their enmity turned into friendship and even months after they met Constantine invited Serenity to his palace. He really liked listening to Serenity's comments on his books or projects and they both really enjoyed those days but of course there is no real trust between them, one is a prince of hell and the other is an overlord but they still like each other's presence. 

Hotel residents: Constantine is neutral towards them.

Alastor: Constantine and Alastor have a relationship of respect, as long as Alastor respects Constantine, Constantine is neutral around him, he doesn't get into dogfights with Alastor like Lucifer did. And Alastor knows Constantine's authority, so he doesn't do anything out of line, but Constantine doesn't like Alastor, he knows he's not in the hotel for fun, and he finds it annoying that he's trying to get close to Charlie, but he doesn't see him as a threat, he just sees him as a fly that makes a noise, and he's waiting for him to do something out of line. But of course they have a lot in common in terms of personality and hobbies, if you don't include their positions etc, they could get along well in that way.

The relationship with sins:

Bee: Constantine loves his Aunt Bee very much, even when he was little he remembers like it was yesterday when he used to stay with Charlie and his Aunt Bee always did her best to keep them both happy and she was always kind to them and when they are with her he likes to forget all the royal stuff and have fun. Now Bee is one of the few people who can run up and hug Constantine at royal meetings.

Satan: Constantine grew up closest to Satan, who saw the potential for destruction in Constantine from the time he was young and wanted to guide him, and succeeded. Constantine's perception of power often comes from Satan.

Belphegor: Constantine likes to spend time with her. Belphegor is a women who studies medicine and science, so Constantine really likes to discuss these things with her.

Mammon: he doesn't like him, he thinks he's a clown.

Asmodeus: Constantine is not very close to Asmodeus, but he likes his uncle.

[lifeafterartsch00l]

The answer is yes, yes they have plz see below~

✨MY FAVE KAKAIRU FICS✨

A change of pace this week from the usual sasunaru programming to celebrate Naruto’s gay dads, feat. my terrible memes

As per usual, I’ll try and find the authors to tag them, if you know who they are on tumblr, plz tag them in the comments! 💖

He ships it

Worship by decaf_kitty

Careful it’s hot 🥵

Beloved decaf kitty, may your coffee never be bitter, may your pillow be the perfect temperature, and you never get writer’s block ❤️ amen! Please read this one shot it’s AMAZING

“Additional Tags: Slow Build, Romance, Resolved Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Begging, Inappropriate Use of the Sharingan

Summary: Late at night, Kakashi and Iruka randomly meet at a ramen stand... One little conversation later, they're in Kakashi's bedroom, with Iruka on his knees, and a blushing Kakashi staring down at the sensei between his bare thighs”

Kintsugi by The_Rivers_Dark

She ships it

I excitedly followed each new chapter release of this fic 💕 most incredible descriptions of intimacy, a fantastic writer 💕 also Tsunade tries to meddle and it’s just terrific (read it to find out if it works tehe) 💕 so wonderful, a comforting fic like a warm hug (but also really sexy idk man I’m not a writer clearly haha).

“Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, less hurt more comfort, Comfort, hurt comfort that turns to comfort, hurt comfort that turns to comfort erotica, comfort erotica, Erotica, mutual pining to mutual love, Love, Romance, Smut, Shameless Smut, Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, come for the erotica stay for the comfort, come for the comfort stay for the erotica, if it’s broken fix it and never let it out of your sight again, painting with muted colours never suited my literary palette, Tsunade as a cockblock device and a meddler, plot arc what plot arc, pacing what pacing, Whirlwind Romance, we’re all about the comfort here, Roommates, And then they were roommates, Eventual marriage, Marriage, they get married at the end, Getting Together, Sweet/Hot, Happy Ending, for all you Kakashi-level perverts out there sexy tags include but are not limited to, Frotting, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Nipple Play, 69 (Sex Position), Spanking, Fingerfucking, Blindfolds, it doesn’t count as a threesome if one of them is a shadow clone, Sweet, Spicy, sweet and spicy, Rimming, Snippet beta we die like Akatsuki villains only to be resurrected again, Domestic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Idiots in Love, Light Bondage, versatile lovers, Top Hatake Kakashi, Top Umino Iruka, Belonging

Summary:

Kintsugi: The Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of an object's history, rather than something to disguise.

(Iruka gets heavily injured in a mission gone wrong. Problem is, Tsunade knows he won't stay in the hospital long enough to recuperate. Kakashi finds himself volunteering to be his carer. As they get closer, the tension between them reaches a boiling point. Complete.)”

Unspoken by RenGoneMad

Incredible canon-compliant rewrite where Kakashi and Iruka meet much earlier (kind of, you’ll see). And Kakashi has a long time cruuuuuuush 😜 the banter/flirting is really cute. The pacing and development of the relationship is so so good! The way the author gets into their heads is just great. Both 🔥 & heartwarming! ❤️

“Additional Tags: Romance, Slow Burn, Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Fluff and Angst, Hatake Kakashi-centric, POV Hatake Kakashi, Secret Identity, Canon Compliant, Canon - Manga, Complete, Kissing, Sexual Tension, Obsession, But not unhealthy or creepy, Pining, Stalking, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Suicide, (as complies with canon)

Summary: The memorial stone should be a place to mourn the dead, a place to remember the many sins and failures that haunt Hatake Kakashi.

To Iruka, it's a place to speak to his parents, and the mysterious ANBU who listens.

Follows Kakashi from ages 14 to 29, and the many ways Iruka changes his life”

The Outcasted by yeou_bi

Sensual, erotic, all without anything explicit (yet?). They way they’re falling in love is so cute 😭 Just lovely ❤️ I hope the author writes more chapters! 😊🤞🏽

“Chapters: 3/?

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Additional Tags: Hospitalization, Illnesses, References to Illness, Loneliness, POV Alternating, Present Tense, Skin diseases, Slow Burn, Denial of Feelings, Nausea, Touch-Starved, Touching, Hurt/Comfort, Pandemics, Dysfunctional Relationships, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Bullying, Discrimination

Summary: During the outbreak of a mysterious disease, Kakashi finds himself sharing a clinic room with Iruka.

What begins as simple moments of sharing the same burden slowly turns confusing. When physical touch could mean an infection, it also becomes a commodity that's hard to come by for those who are recovering”

Thank you to all the talented authors! 💕

[musedblues]

All Things Must Pass

a/n: IDK CHAT this is 100% projection. long story short, i promised @almightyellie and @userjohndeacon a sessa fic, started it, then proceeded to have the worst june ever. and i accidentally ended up turning this entire plot into my therapy. sorry for the devastation but...  happy ending?

description: since starting college angus became your very best friend. just as you begin to wrap up your academic career, shit hits the fan for everyone. friends to lover's type shit but make it excruciating. angus x fem reader. 

warnings: explicit sexual situations, death, mentions of suicidal ideation, brief scene ft. harassment, over all morbid tone. God bless whoever takes the time to put up with this plot lmao

18k

MINORS DNI

///

The Party

"Would you hurry up! I want to get there before all the good booze is gone." Angus drummed on his steering wheel as you rushed into his passenger seat. He'd been honking outside your dorm for five minutes, despite the couple times you poked your head out the window to yell at him that you were coming.

"I got ready later than I wanted, I was actually trying to study. You know we're at college to learn shit, right?" 

"Yeah, and I'm trying to learn how to get drunk fast tonight. Every moment of this precious life is a lesson to be learned if you let it, kid." Angus jested, as if being a few months younger mattered in your mid-twenties. 

"You used to be fun, Angus. You used to be so carefree. You used to bitch so much less profoundly. That philosophy class has done a number on you." You laughed as you teased him, watching your friend grin in response. Angus was your favorite pain in the ass. You were his, he said so often. He was your ride to everywhere. You were his built-in tutor for everything. He was your emergency contact on every official form. All because he was lost the first weekend here; and you just happened to learn directions to the furthest class on campus moments before he asked an ever-emptying hallway of students to show him the way.

"Look. This is the last party Kiara is throwing before she graduates, and before our month of finals. I just want to have the best night possible." Angus reasoned. He went on to ramble about how uptight you had been about school lately, and how you needed to let lose tonight all the same. Angus was right.

Your first year of college was spent in elation, when you realized you'd finally escaped the confines of your family. None of them ever had your best interest in mind, and rushing off to freedom was how you spent your 20th autumn. Your second year of college was spent really nailing down your major, hedging all your bets on studying something serious that would keep you afloat your entire life. Something you could depend on for yourself and no one else. But the fatigue of your intense studies set in by the third year, leading you to seek out more extra curriculars to take the edge off. 

It was Kiara's idea to take dance lessons. She was your partner in every tango and waltz. She was your biggest encouragement to take the extra ballet class. And she'd been really pushing you to audition for the team that would travel to Europe to compete in an annual competition. Between your friend, and your instructor, you'd been swayed to stay longer at practices- and to work harder for auditions at the start of the summer. But that meant your studies became even more of a challenge, with your brain focused on achieving more goals than you'd set out to tackle. 

"So, what are we doing tonight?" Angus rallied, as he pulled against the curb of Kiara's townhouse. 

"Having a good time!" You enunciated each word as Angus chanted along with you, smiling his stupidly perfect smile. You'd always loved the sight of him happy, carefree. Happy looked especially good on your friend Angus.

You trailed behind your friend as he bound toward the steps of the party, and held open the front door for you. The air was misty with hints of rain, summer couldn't settle in quick enough.

Kiara's home was big enough for four or more people, but she planned to share it only with her cousin- a lawyer on her way from Chicago, whom none of you had yet to meet. To the left of the entrance hall was the living room; packed with acquaintances and strangers clinking red solo cups together as a Hendrix record played. To the left was the kitchen, where Kiara stood showing off an island full of drinks and organized snacks. Her springy brown curls were pulled back in a neat ponytail and she was dressed better than anyone, as always. 

"There they are!" She smiled and pointed to you and Angus, before waving you over to her massive refrigerator. 

"Extra cold beer and expensive liquor for friends only." Kiara swept her hand to suggest you pick your poison, as she swatted away a stranger from reaching in all at once. You laughed and thanked her for being extra thoughtful, not surprised by her set up. She was the most detail-oriented human you'd ever met. Once Angus had a bottle of beer in either hand and you were content with the last of some old chardonnay, you followed Kiara out to the patio. 

There beyond the steady flame from the fire pit, sat Soren and Tom. Both already high off their asses. They waved as you approached and lit up a fresh joint. And just like that your group was glued together. You'd all wound up in San Fransico from different parts of the country. And you'd all ended up tight knit throughout a year of run ins at pubs and races to class, despite the difference in some of your grades. Fate continuously lobbed you each together. And over the past few years; time always carved out at least one day a week where the five of you could hunch over laughing past midnight like a band of fools.

"How's your job at the cafe going Soren? Paying your book fees back in a timelier manner now?" You rose a brow and looked to your friend. His blonde curls hung to his shoulders; his eyes red by way of the night's events that had only just begun. How he was dependable enough to hold down a job you were unsure, but impressed by all the while.

"I haven't been late once in the two months I've worked there. For work, or my fees." The guy boasted, taking a hit from the blunt he kept promising to pass around but never did. Your group set down their bottles and glasses to give Soren a small round of applause. 

"What about you Kiara? Are you set up for your internship?" Angus asked, both beers already gone. He rose from his perch on a lounge chair to reach in a nearby cooler for another drink. 

"Oh yeah. I start next week, and I graduate three days later. It's getting real, gang. We're getting grown up." Kiara pouted out of sentiment, and nervousness, you noticed. 

"One day closer to death." Tom concluded, "Gotta make the most of it!" The guy lunged, stealing the blunt that Soren had been hogging, laughing at the blonde's appalment. You admired Tom's waggish disposition, eagerness to keep you all on your toes. But even dark eyed, dark humored Tom started to lament about how fast time was flying by this third year of school. 

"I'm gonna graduate, get a house and a few cats. I'm gonna start working at the vet clinic and be rich enough to start my own in ten years." Tom declared, so sure of himself. You watched your friend mean every word that came out of his mouth, which was rare for the often-unserious fellow.

"Did you know," Angus began to rally, raising his bottle to make a point. "In Egypt when a family's cat died, they all shaved their eyebrows off as a sign of respect. Haven't figured out why yet. But I was reading-" 

You groaned a laugh, decidedly tuning out the rest of Angus' sentance. You loved that he always had a recently studied story to share. They fascinated you, usually. But tonight, Angus rambles about history repeating itself was filling you with dread. You weren't keen to consider the past tonight. And your own lack of clarity about the future was growing vaster every day. 

Remembering your promise to let loose here, you politely excused yourself from Angus' on-going speech to find more to drink. Surely the fridge inside had something strong enough, something to really set you off for the evening. 

A bottle of whiskey seemed promising but there were no mixers. You settled for a couple shots, and chatted with a girl who lived down the hall from you. She did two more shots with you and introduced you to her girlfriend. The pair were nice enough together but wouldn't shut the fuck up about a recent trip to France and their decision to move there. Couldn't anyone talk about anything besides their plans for life, tonight?

In the living room, strangers picked the worst vinyl's from Kiara's collection to spin. You sighed as some physics major beamed at the sound of Neil Diamond groaning from the speakers.

Thank God you hadn't been left to linger too long alone. Angus was tapping at your shoulder eventually, holding up a bottle of your favorite rum you hadn't realized was available. His smile grew mischievously as he beckoned you to follow him away from the crowd. This was when the real fun always began.

The spare most bedroom was home to a smaller record player and a more prized collection of vinyl's. Kiara never minded your spinning these, knowing how delicate and careful you were with them. How you were more dazzled by some of her favorite collections than she was, on occasion.

Angus was quick to lock the door, keeping out the people who inevitably started knocking to use the en suite bathroom. Kiara had two more. They'd figure that out. You chose an older album, struggling to turn it up louder than the shit they were blaring from the living room. Angus had already taken an absurd swig of rum from the bottle by the time you'd finished fidgeting with the volume dial. 

"Geeze, save some for the rest of us buddy." You snatched the drink for your own turn, already buzzed, but looking to see stars tonight. Angus was well on his way, it seemed, laughing a little too hard at your jest.

"Finally, good music and decent booze. And you, I guess." You smiled up at Angus, taking a big drink as he grinned back your way. He accepted the bottle back as you began to drone on about the shit music the crowd was playing. You rambled about how you feared they lacked a certain amount of passion for talent. You lamented still how easy it was for people to know passion better than you ever could. How unequivocally everyone spoke tonight about their passions and futures and plans. But how even given your efforts to want the same things, you didn't feel that same certainty everyone else seemed to.

"You gotta get out of here." Angus stalled before you, tapping his pointer finger against your temple. He was always getting you to snap out of your silly spinning what if's and why's.

"Sorry. I know, we're supposed to be having fun." You remarked, grabbing back the bottle to catch up to Angus level of inebriation. He went on to make some foul retort about passion, a joke about the last time he managed a one night stand.

"That's the same gusto you're so proud of that got you only frowns the day you asked out three poor freshman before lunch."

"Win some you lose some." Angus grinned, taking a generous swig before passing the bottle to you. You were both well drunk by then and enjoying the solitude from the masses. Kiara threw the best parties because she had the biggest house. And that gave you a lot of opportunities to seek out space all the while, which was the more valued asset, you thought. Your longsuffering roommate was always in the way. And if your one was an obstacle, Angus' three others were too much to bear. Nights like these were sacred for so many reasons.

"I'm better with silent queues, anyway. I've never successfully talked my way into a date."

You chuckled in your friend's direction, rolling your shoulders to the beat of the new vinyl you picked out. You dreamed a little of adding this song to the list of ones to choreograph in the future.

"No, I'm serious! The people I've successfully hooked up with in college have all happened when I decide to keep the talking to a minimum. A little body language goes a long way, I swear!"

"Angus you know I love you, but I'm struggling to believe you." He was too awkward. Not in a nerdish way. But something about his countenance could be enigmatically naive. He'd been through a lot in his young life, enough to hold a certain wisdom in his posture. But he still seemed to have so much to learn.

"No?" Angus stifled a laugh, seeming to make a decision with a nod. "Well what about this?" He set the bottle of rum down on a chest of drawers.  Angus turned, giving you a sly look over his shoulder, before spinning to face you all the way, letting his eye's rake up your figure. He did have the most alluring set of eyes, and you liked to imagine what was going through his head as he peered across every inch of your body.

"You come here often, darlin'?" Angus rose a playful brow, reaching to sling an arm over your shoulder. You huffed a sorry laugh and shook your head in disapproval.

"It worked until I talked, didn't it?" Angus bit his lip, lifting his brows again to get you to giggle. Even if it did, you'd never tell him.

You drank more and argued over what records to play. You laid on the floor near the speakers and settled into silence when a particularly good song came on. Angus hummed along and made you smile. You drank more and made each other laugh until you cried, slumped against the wall by the loo. Music still pulsed from downstairs, but you noticed fewer voices rallied from downstairs, fewer knocks on your door too.

Then you mistakenly noticed the clock. 

"Oh God Angus it's midnight?" I have a test in the morning." You slumped further down the wall you'd been leaning against, covering your head in your hands. "I was already prepared to fail, now I'm gonna be tired and stressed."

"Hey," Angus called, reaching out to pull your hands from your face. "Look, you either know it or you don't. No amount of studying or sleeping now is gonna help. You've already studied so much. I'm sure you'll do fine. Really!"

You sighed and said you knew he was right. But you couldn't understand why you felt so much more unsure than all of your other friends. You arguably studied hardest out of the five of you. You had the same goals. But Tom seemed so certain that his ten-year plan would work out, no matter any set backs. And Kiara was already accepted into her dream position. Angus never complained once about fearing a test or a grade. And Soren God bless him, took it day by day, but he was doing reasonably well for lack of planning. You voiced to Angus how it scared you that life didn't always turn out perfectly despite all your best efforts.

Your friend frowned, and seemed to struggle for a response. Maybe he was too drunk. Or maybe there just was no answer. With the shake of his dark curls Angus decided to wrap an arm around your shoulder. You felt him kiss the crown of your head, something he did when there was nothing left to say. No advice to give. But when he still wanted to show his support. His closeness was a comfort like no other. He knew just how to be near you. And then you realized he was right in a way, before. Angus was pretty good when it came to wordless connection. 

As you realized this, you broke from your leaning against him to cast your eyes to his face. Angus blinked, letting his arm stay draped around you, letting his fingers draw patterns against your shoulder. His lips formed a small smile as Angus watched you consider his features. His eye's stayed easily peering into yours, and somehow it was like you really saw him for the first time.

"I'm afraid I believe you now." You huffed a humorless laugh, drunk enough to speak without thinking. And how Angus was quick enough to register what you meant, you didn't know. But you saw his eyes look into yours with an understanding you'd never uncovered in your three years of friendship. It might've given you a shiver up your spine. Or you might've just been that drunk. But the longer you looked into Angus' eyes and the quieter he remained, the faster your heart started beating. How much had you had to drink?

You couldn't tear your gaze from his, noticing his mouth begin to move to speak, but no words came. Maybe he stalled, or maybe he was still trying to find the right thing to say. Or maybe he was that drunk. But there was something happening to you that hadn't happened in the entirety of your knowing Angus. Your heart rate had never quickened, drunk or not, in his presence. Your mind had never gone so blank, staring into his eyes. You could've gotten into your head about it. But there was no time to think. Because all of a sudden, he was kissing you. 

It seemed to come out of nowhere after all these years. But it seemed so obvious in the moment. His lips stalled on yours as his fingers moved to brush against your neck, the ghost of a clutch. It was as if he couldn't move until you pushed him away or kissed him back. You chose the latter.

You let your lips bruise into his. You let your hand fall above his knee. You let your fingers curl into a grip. And that seemed to give Angus the green light to really kiss you. His lips parted and his hand molded around the back of your neck and his other arm dared to encircle you. You let your free hand find his shoulder. As Angus flexed to pull you closer to him, you leaned in to kiss him fiercer, knocking the guy over in the process.

Angus let both his hands tangle in your hair as you kissed him against the bedroom floor. It seemed your hands and his moved without a thought or a care, aided by alcohol no doubt. Your fingers found themselves dancing along the hem of Angus t-shirt as his traveled to grab at your hips. The record that was playing was skipping and scratching, begging to be turned. But your every focus was on your very best friend right now, how far his tongue was down your throat, how much in a hurry you felt to tear his jeans off. 

You couldn't believe how fast it was all happening. You couldn't quiet process that Angus slender fingers were creeping underneath your skirt. You couldn't seem to kiss him hard enough. It wasn't long before he rolled to pin you against the floor. It wasn't long before he was actually shagging you in the spare bedroom of your friend's townhome. Angus slammed his hips into yours and breathed hard against your neck. You let your nails dig into his shoulder blades as he finished, and strained to catch your breath as he collapsed at your side. 

If you were confused about things before, you were confounded at this point. But it was one in the morning. And you had a test to take. And no time to think of anything else at all. 

"I'm sorry for doubting you earlier." You broke the deafening silence in the room by turning to grin at Angus. He laughed, a real but breathy and exhausted chuckle. Silence settled in again, until you suggested getting up off the floor. At a languid pace, Angus moved to fasten his trousers, and stumbled into a crawl. You managed to move up right faster and decidedly dragged your friend toward the bed in the middle of the room. Sloshed and spent, you each fell asleep rather quickly. But you didn't drift off without a deepening storm of questions brewing in the back of your mind.

///

A knocking stirred you from dreaming. But the harsh early sun from the window caused your eyes to snap shut in a hurry. This bed wasn't yours. Angus was next to you. His curls tickling your cheek. His arm like a heavyweight across your stomach. 

Despite the knocking, your eyes couldn't keep open. Your brain still clung to dreams.

You relished the way your friends body molded against yours. You struggled to recall the last time you felt so calm. So relaxed. It was too easy to fall asleep again.

And then you were shaken to reality once more. 

"Wake up, please-" Angus was whispering your name with urgency. He wasn't at your side, not like before. He was standing. His arms no longer held you close. But his hand clutched your arm, and it stayed there as you sat up to meet his eyes. They were bloodshot. His brows were pushed in, darkening his gaze. His usual faint grin was turned into a frown.

Angus swallowed and dug his fingers into your shoulder. 

"You gotta get up. Tom's dead."

///

Kiara was slumped against the kitchen table when Angus finally got you out of bed. You rushed to her side in a panic, as she kept her head down. Angus stalled near the entry way of the kitchen, hands on his head, breaking out into a pace.

Soren was hanging up the phone on the wall, he'd just called off work for the very first time ever. You wanted to tell him you were proud of him for not having done so sooner. But now wasn't the time. One of you was missing. And he wasn't coming back.

Kiara lifted her head from the table, her once pinned curls now disheveled. Her face was wet with tears as she sucked in a deep breath. 

"Angus can you tell the strangers sleeping on my sofa to get the fuck out, please?" Kiara's voice was hoarse and worn. Soren sat across from you as Angus left the room on a mission, and you begged someone to tell you what the hell was going on. 

Kiara said she opened her door to the police at five this morning. She was Tom's emergency contact, after all. She said he decided to walk home instead of crashing here. He only lived a block away. He should have made it. But he was drunk. And a pickup truck didn't hit their breaks in time. And just like that, none of it mattered. His bed was never slept in. His degree was never earned. His plans out the window. A fifth seat at the pub and dinner table permanently empty. 

Angus returned to announce he'd gotten everyone to leave. But a well-meaning girl straggled in the kitchen behind him, asking the group of you if there was anything she could do for you. Angus turn to yell that she go like he so kindly asked her to in the first place. Soren started sobbing then, slumping from the chair at your side, his blonde locks weighing your lap down. You sat in shock, carding your fingers through his hair. You locked eyes with Angus across the room, watching the way his teeth dug into his lip to keep from crying. You had a lot to talk about. But now wasn't the time.

As you turned to look to Kiara, your eyes fell onto the clock. 

"I- I have a test." Your voice cracked; a cry lodged in your throat that you weren't ready to let escape. 

"What professor? I can help you get an extension, if you want?" Kiara sniffled. 

"I... I don't want that. I want to get it over with. I don't want to leave here but I don't- I don't know." 

"Hey, it's okay-" Kiara reached to rest her hand on your forearm. You struggled to breathe but kept rambling despite yourself. 

"I don't want to put it off, I'll be way more stressed than I already am, but I don't want to leave here, Kiara..." You begged her to help you make sense out of your panic. That's what she was good at. 

"It's okay." She demanded with authority, nodding to silence you. "Go take it. Come back when you're finished? I'd really like for us to all be together tonight." She sucked in a shaky breath and cast her gaze to Angus, who was nodding in agreeance. Soren lifted his head from your lap, face red and eyes glossy. He mentioned needing a change of clothes, barely able speak without breaking down again. 

"I'll take you to campus." Angus gestured toward you. "And I'll grab your stuff, Soren. Stay with Kiara and we'll be back to help clean this shit up and decide what to do next." Angus asked where his friends dorm key was, decidedly designating himself the errand runner. 

Kiara steadied her breathing and thanked him, Angus was always clear minded in crisis. Then she announced that she planned to call Tom's parents. If not to break the news to them before the police, then to find how the family planned to send him off.

Your beautiful hoarse voiced friend demanded you go do your best, as you stood to leave. You gave her a crooked grimace of a smile, every sense clouded with shock and confusion and dismay.

Angus followed you out to his car, where he drove you back to campus in complete silence. Neither of you said a word, neither of you made a sound. There was too much to talk about and not nearly enough of the right kind of time. 

///

Finals Month

You failed that test. Miserably. Maybe you should have waited. But you knew the stress of waiting would've worn on you just as much as the shock had, the morning you took it. That night you spent at Kiara's was quiet. 

That night you all let the sound of dinner cooking echo through the house. That night you all sat around the living room, trying not to fixate on the spot on the couch where Tom usually sat with his legs crossed. That night Angus held your hand, and the way it usually would've brought you comfort was then matched with conflict. Still, you watched as his fingers tapped against your knuckles and clung to his grip for all it was worth. Despite the way your nerves danced on end, you held his hand. Despite the missing friend, the rest of you sat together. 

When you found out you failed the test the next day, you weren't surprised. But you were motivated to get more serious than ever. You only stopped studying the rest of the week, to make meals. And when you finished the first round of finals, you let dance class be your reward.

Kiara was there at the studio, but she wasn't dressed for it. She only wanted to wait up to give you a lift to the pub after, having called you all to plan a meeting this evening. As dancers flooded into the building, you thanked Kiara for coming to watch you, for being there somehow. You promised to dance hard enough for the both of you, that practice.

Then it was time to start the lesson, relishing the way the music pulsed through the floor. You'd never been so thankful for a hobby, it came just in time for you to clear your head. As you moved your body to the beat of some Bowie song, it wasn't like you were coming to any grand conclusions. But something about locking in and moving with the music made your mind stop racing all the while. 

And then there was the part of you that savored the compliments you received when you landed a spin or were asked to offer instruction to others. You were really fucking good at this, and you knew it. 

When class was over, you struggled to ride the high of the adrenaline dancing usually gave you. The music stopped and you had no reason left to pound your feet into the ground, nowhere left to direct your grief and sadness and worry.  But then Kiara was boasting about how well you did and sing songing her familiar plea for you to try out for the European competition. The instructor overheard and walked up to encourage you all the same. 

"You really should. Auditions are in a month." The teacher flashed you his coy smile, letting his hand rest on the small of your back. He was like that. But you didn't mind. The thrill you got from his compliments as a leader outweighed the way his flirting could sometimes make you cringe.

"I'll think about it!" You assured, giving Kiara the 'let's get out of here' look. 

///

At your usual pub, Angus and Soren were sat in silence, each casting despondent glances toward the table. A chair was empty between them. Funny how hard this kept getting. How often you were reminded that Tom was gone, and how shuddering it was to realize he wasn't coming back. You didn't realize how slowly grief worked. How every new day a creeping mourning swallowed your mind more wholly than the last.

Once seated, you flagged down a waiter for some drinks and frowned when Soren asked how your class went. You didn't really want to talk about it. It didn't seem important at all, all you could think to mention in the company of your friends was how one was gone. Wasn't that so fucked up?

"His mom called today. She says the funeral is tomorrow." Kiara came right out with it, causing everyone to cast their eyes toward her. She hadn't mentioned the phone call she had with Tom's parents when you all reconvened that night. No one had said much of anything at all, that night. 

"What the fuck?" Soren spat. Tom was from Alaska. None of you had time to plan to be at a funeral in Alaska in less than 24 hours. 

"This morning, she told me they had family in town for some other reason. And want to just 'get it over with' so, fuck us, I guess." Kiara released a shaky breath, turning to thank a waiter who slid glasses onto your high-top table. 

"We can do something for him, just us." Angus spoke up, arms crossed tight around his body. He looked up for the first time since you got here and looked right at you. You smiled, glad to see him, content with his latest idea. Angus smiled back and kept his steady brown eyed gaze on yours. And for one fleeting moment you forgot you were being swallowed whole by sadness. But just a moment.

"Yeah. We should have a memorial. Anything you want me to bring?" Soren sat up, nodding over and over at the idea, glad for a progressive plan in his friend's honor.

"A bunch of fuckin' weed. It's what he would've wanted." Kiara laughed. And so did the rest of you.

The rest of the hour you spent drinking was full of a little more hope than any of you had felt in the past few days. You managed a few laughs from each other in the midst of planning a memorial. Through giggles, you all strived to turn conversation lighter. There was an unspoken chugging toward ending your hang out on the semblance of a high note. And you understood why. But something felt so wrong about laughing. Something felt so shameful about droning on about school, with each other. Didn't they feel that? How couldn't they? Would bringing this up kill the mood for better, or for worse?

You didn't know how to conduct yourself the longer you thought about it. Suddenly the whole world and the meaning of life stretch out before you and started to muddle together to fill you with dread. 

"Hey." Angus voice was closer than before. You realized your friends were all getting up, and the dark eyed boy was standing beside the stool you sat in. "Hey, come on." Angus rose his finger to your temple and gave it a couple taps. That meant it was time to focus on something else entirely. Time to get out of your head. You nodded and stood to join him as he walked, watching the others head into the foggy night, holding the door open for you.

"It's the last Friday of the month you know." Angus spoke to you gently, his reminder catching you off guard. You didn't really know what to expect, from Angus now. You didn't really know what you expected from yourself, either. 

"Oh, yeah."

"Do you... want me to come over?" He seemed to worry. The lanky brunet shifted the weight between his feet and let either of his eyes dart between yours. You saw his breath in the fog of the misty evening. You couldn't imagine ever telling him no. 

"It's the last Friday of the month. You always come over. I just... almost forgot this time." You admitted. There had been a lot going on. And you hadn't really been paying attention to the calendar. 

"Did you... forget? Or..."

"I forgot. Come on, let's go." You spoke confidently because you were telling the truth. But you realized what he'd alluded to... having recently fucked without acknowledging it in anyway. And you were not ready to have that conversation. 

Angus rose his brows, shrugged his shoulders and decidedly stepped in time with you. You'd hoped he'd start talking about something else. But he didn't. He let an awkward silence weigh itself between you as he drove you to your dorm. Angus didn't speak the whole ride there. And neither did you. But he drove you home, and followed you in. And that counted for something, right?

Silence followed you each to the sofa, where you sat on the edge, staring at the blank telly screen. 

"Should we watch something?" Angus finally called, leaned back against your decorative pillows with his arms crossed tight. 

"I dunno." You realized. It was later than usual. Your roommate was asleep. You weren't sure how to act, alone with Angus now.

"Put on an album, maybe?" He suggested. His voice sounded light years away. And you couldn't figure out if it was because he was sat so far back. Or if he was upset with you. Or if you were simply starting to lose your mind.

"I dunno." You repeated. The upsettingly familiar weight of silence crept between the pair of you once more for what felt like a lifetime. 

"We really should talk about it. Shouldn't we?" Angus spoke up, voice breaking up your minds spiral of thoughts that had been getting you nowhere. 

You truly didn't know. There was too much happening you hadn't had time to process. A thousand new truths and realities danced around your brain, seeping down to quicken your heart rate. Even if you should've, you couldn't talk without crying. You actually couldn't help that tears started to pool in your eyes now, feeling demanding to free itself from within you. 

Your elbows met your knees and your hands blocked out the light of the room. You tried to steady your breathing with a deep intake of air. But cries were all that released out, despite your attempt to bay your overwhelm. 

You felt him shift at your side. Angus was up. You sat trying to pull yourself together as you heard Angus move about the room. Suddenly you sensed the telly was switched on and the lights were off.

"I'm sorry. Come here. I'm sorry." Angus called, his weight shifting the sofa once more. "We'll just watch whatever is on. I'm sorry." His hands grabbed to move you back toward him. Angus pulled you to rest at his side, and you couldn't help but accept the invitation. You rose your feet from the floor and buried yourself beside him, sniffling away your tears. Angus held you tighter than you ever recalled him having done before. Angus carded his fingers through your hair, and apologized again. Wasn't this enough? You wondered. Couldn't the pair of you just settle together without words? The more intently you latched against his form, the more purposefully Angus seemed to hold you. Wasn't that all either of you needed to know right now?

But he wouldn't stop apologizing. 

"It's okay." You replied, pulling your face away from Angus' shoulder to meet his eye. Your friend wore a look of consternation, jaw clenched, brows furrowed. There was clearly so much he wanted to say. But he didn't. He just shook his head of curls, and pressed his lips together, casting his eyes to his lap. You brought a set of fingers to his jaw, turning his head to face yours. 

"I promise, it's okay." You said again, nodding and letting your thumb brush across the apple of his cheek. You watched your friend of many years debate saying what was clearly on the tip of his tongue. You waited for Angus to stop shaking his head and just come out with it already. He'd been wondering if you should talk. And if he wanted too, he should've. Right?

"I just... I really want to kiss you again." Angus said, like he was certain to be condemned for admitting so. You felt your mouth try to grin despite the way your lips anxiously pursed.  You watched the way Angus searched your expression for any kind of reaction. But you didn't give him much time before you leaned in to brush your lips against his. This kiss was delicate. This kiss was slow. Your hands did not wander. But you each shared the moment earnestly, for reasons you still weren't ready to uncover.

When Angus stalled to break your connection, he stayed close. His gaze was steady on your lips, as if he were trying to figure out why they were just pressed against his own. But you just couldn't talk about it tonight. So instead, it was your turn to pull Angus close, as you leaned back into the pile of throw blankets. You held Angus' head of curls against your chest as he decidedly let himself relax there. 

You didn't know what show was playing. You didn't know what time it was, or when you both fell asleep. You didn't hear Angus leave the next morning. And you didn't know what you were going to do about the way his leaving broke your heart a little more than it'd already had been.

///

You spent the weekend working. Cleaning houses a couple days a week was enough to keep money in your pockets, especially if you had appointments in the rich neighborhoods. You blasted music through each house, and scrubbed to the beat. Like dancing, this was therapy. Every time you remembered Tom was dead, you'd scoured the grout a little harder. Every time you remembered the way Angus dug his fingers into your hips, and how much you liked it, you vacuumed with more gusto. Every time you remembered how poorly the results of your latest finals had been, you turned up the music.

Then came the memorial your friends set up.

It was perfect. You burned a fire in the pit out back, shared a couple joints, and went through old pictures. Each photo unlocked a memory someone had a story about. Kiara found a few flowers to plant around the evergreen near the corner. Flowers that would grow back every year. For Tom. Angus didn't say much that night. And you didn't either. And you could tell the other two noticed. 

///

"Claire is finally completely moved in!" Kiara chirped. She sat across the dance floor with you, stretching her fingers to meet the tips of her toes. The townhouse she bought with her cousin in mind was finally home sweet home for both girls. "You'll have to meet her! Angus and Soren already have, I called them to help move a few heavier things."

"Yeah, sounds good." You struggled to respond, only half listening. Your brain was busy focusing on the way your body worked to stretch out every imperfection, every negative thought and feeling. But the way Kiara called your name next forced your undivided attention.

"Look, I get that things have been fucked up recently. You know I know that." Your friends voice shook a little, and a pain rang through your chest at the sound. She lost a friend too. "But you've been especially weird. What's going on, huh?" Kiara sounded almost angry. But then you recognized it was simply hurt spilling over. And you'd been caught. And you couldn't brush her off. Not when she was looking at you like that.

"It's just..." You breathed in, struggling to know where to start, totally unprepared to have been put on the spot here at the studio. And then your instructor was calling everyone to get ready for class. Thank God.

"Later, okay?" You stood, extending a hand for Kiara to grab. She did so and shrugged her way to the middle of the dance floor with a puzzled expression ever glued on you. And that's how it stayed all night. She watched your face for a crack in its resolve. You just danced. You turned every 'what if' away from your mind and let the music flood your system. You ignored Kiara's curious glances and danced like your life depended on it.

When the hour was up and the group was heading out, Kiara made a beeline for you. But so did your instructor.

"Stay later?" He beamed, nodding your way as he walked off, having already decided for you it seemed. 

"I can wait up for you!" Kiara lifted her brows in a hopeful manner, stalling to put her shoes back on. 

"I don't know how long I'll be." You realized. Halfway trying to get her to give up, and halfway telling the truth. You knew Kiara was simply trying to check in with you. But if you hadn't even been ready to talk to Angus about everything, it sure didn't feel right to bring it all up to Kiara on a whim.

"I don't mind waiting. We could go for drinks or something. I just think-"

"Kiara... no. Please, I honestly can't do this tonight. Not with you." You spoke a little too quickly, a little too fiercely. You immediately regretted shutting her out as the words spilled from your mouth. And then you watched your friends face turn into a grimace.

"Don't be cunty to me when all I'm trying to do is be there for you." Kiara spat back before bending down to pick up her shoes. 

"Ki, I'm sorry-" You hurried to plea as she began to turn for the door. 

"I'll call you when I'm less pissed off." She waved her hand for you to stay back, to stop following her toward the door. As she began to push out of the exit, she stalled to turn back and say one last thing. "No, actually, you need to call me when you get over yourself." And with that she was gone. And she was right. But you had absolutely no time to process that interaction before your instructor was snapping for your attention. 

"You girls seem close." The man teased with a twisted sort of smile. You let out a huff of a laugh, uncertain how to otherwise respond to this man you knew absolutely nothing about outside of his dance credentials. He could kick higher than anyone you knew. And he always got a little too into the salsa, no matter his partner. 

"Anyway, you know we're all dying for you to nail next month's audition for the traveling team. I wanted to share some pointers with you, if you're serious about try outs?" The man reveled, smiling as he waited for you to respond. The studio was so quiet without the chatter from the others. Without the thuds from their feet parading across the floor. 

"Yeah, that would be so generous of you." You nodded. With your finals having gone horrifically so far, your newly forming plan was to nail this audition, hedge your bets on your newfound talent to land you a decent career while you were young and able. 

For the next half hour, as Chopin's Nocturne No. 2 filled the room, your instructor was straightening your posture after spins. You ignore the way his hands lingered at the bend of your waist. He watched you glide from one movement to the next, praising what you got right and coming over to correct your mistakes. He turned your head in the right direction. He moved your arms to fan out more evenly. He let his fingers trail across your spine as he rambled about how important visible strength was to the judges.

"You'll want to be certain of your timing. And you'll have to be confident in every little flex of your finger." The man hummed, "But if you're looking to nail down a yes for your audition now," He said, reaching out to move you a little too forcefully toward your mark, his grasp remaining. "There is one thing you could do."

Oh hell no.

"Fuck you." You hissed, shoving the instructor's hands away from your hips and shuddering at the realization of his implication. Watching the man's face fall into a frown when he realized you couldn't be so easily persuaded gave you a new set of chills.

"Let me be frank. If you don't sleep with me, I won't vote for you, and you need each judges vote to get in." As he spoke, he reached a bold hand toward you. There was no question in your mind to hesitate before you extended your own set of digits to slap across his face.

"How fucking dare you." You spat, moving in a hurry to collect your things. Your shoes were still off and you dropped your sweater on your way out the door. But there was no chance in hell you were turning back for it. All you could do was sprint toward the main road, desperate for a cab. 

This was all so fucked. You felt like you had absolutely nothing left to hold out hope for. You were failing school. You were pretty certain you'd ruined things with Angus because of a stupid drunken hook up. Kiara was pissed at you. Tom was dead. And you just had your only outlet for all this shit ruined by that creep of an instructor. 

You couldn't stop thinking of the last thing you heard Tom declare. How he was so ready to graduate and get the cat he'd always wanted and a job of his dreams. How he had it all planned out, and how you knew it'd been going well enough to likely come together the way he'd hoped. But it was all for nothing. And here you were, living some actual Shakespearean level nightmare. Why were you the one spared by fate? The one without a stich of the future figured out for the better. It wasn't fucking fair, for you to keep this farce of a life in crippled traction. It wasn't fair for Tom to be dead. You couldn't even successfully catch a cab. The road was bare of traffic.

But you weren't left stomping down the pavement long before a set of headlights blinded your vision.

"What the hell are you doing?" Soren's recognizable lilt came booming from beyond his cranked down pickup window. You stopped in your tracks, squinting to see his car stalling near the sidewalk just before you. "Get in here!"

You weren't going to argue, this late, this cold. You must've looked a sight, shoeless and tear stained. Soren's passenger seat was cluttered, but it didn't take him long to toss the books and papers to the back seat.

"Where the fuck are you coming from? Why are you crying?"

"Cause life is fucked up Soren." You sniffled, finally putting your shoes on. Your friend started to drive off then, but wouldn't stop asking what happened or if you were okay. 

"I'm fine. Thank you for the rescue."  

He explained that he was coming home from work. He asked if he should take you home, or to Angus' dorm. And that made a new spring of angry hot tears pool in your gaze. It was all you could do to breathe steadily, before shaking away your emotion to finally answer your friend.

"I'm so sorry. It's just been a really shit day. And that's really saying something lately isn't it?" You laughed, despite yourself, and so did Soren. Though his eyes stayed curiously drifting from the road to your slump to the right of him.

"Kiara and I had a weird fight. And then I quit dance class. And I left my favorite sweater there." You whined, ultimately deciding you owned someone an explanation. And Soren had already accepted you in his ride in your sorry state. 

"We can turn back! Do you want to get-"

"No." You demanded. "The instructor guy is a creep. I never want to see him again. And I don't want to see Angus. I just want to go home. Please."

Soren spoke your name lowly, begging to know more. But you couldn't. You just shook your head and thanked your friend again for the lift.

///

Claire

Kiaras cousin was a tall, sharp-witted model of a lawyer. She sat way to close to Angus on the loveseat, knees brushing. And he laughed way too hard at her jokes. It made you sick to watch the pair of them chuckle over a bottle of wine. What could they possibly have to laugh about? He was a brooding stick figure of a college student. And she was this blonde bombshell of an older woman. The pair of them colluding didn't make sense to you.

With the roll of your eye's you fled the living room for the kitchen, finding Kiara. She'd just finished perfecting another well made dinner. 

"Hey." You cautioned meekly, finding your friend shutting the oven door. The room was warm from the heat of the appliance. The air was thick with the scent of spices and herbs. Kiara turned to you with a faint smile, stalling for you to do the talking. And you knew you needed to.

"I'm really sorry I never called, like you asked. And I'm sorry for being so nasty that night." You frowned, meaning every word. You hated that your upset had spilled out into sharp words Kiara never should've received. 

"I'm sorry I called you cunty." Your friend shrugged before letting out a small chuckle. "But you can't keep shutting us out, babe."

Kiara's statement caught you off guard. You hadn't really realized that's what you'd been doing. But it was. You still hadn't given Angus any chance to talk. You yelled at Kiara when she asked what was wrong. And you brushed off Soren's concern when he gave you a lift home. But then a sudden irritation rose within you. 

"I guess I don't know what there is to say that you all don't already know. I guess I don't understand why Angus is laughing in the living room and why we're all pretending to have a nice dinner like everything is fine when it isn't."

"We're all still hurting," Kiara spoke your name, imploring for you to hear her. "What's so hard to understand about wanting to achieve some levity together?" Kiara sounded angry again, angrier than you. Angry at you.

"Why can't you let me be upset?" You quizzed, chest hot with misunderstanding.

"Why can't you let me move on?" Kiara demanded to know, voice full of emotion.

Just then Soren breezed in, setting his bag of comic books and weed on the kitchen island, asking how he could help set up for dinner. Kiara asked him to grab everyone drinks. Then she told you to carry out a pan of food to the table. Her tone was short and she wouldn't look you in the eye. You did as she asked, anger bubbling and brewing deeper in the pit of your stomach all the while. 

You ate dinner, asking Claire about Chicago. You pretended not to grimace at the sound of her shrill run on sentences. You reminded yourself your upset shouldn't be directed at this poor stranger of a woman. But it was hard not to seethe when she was sat in the fifth seat at the table. You and Soren each shared a glance or two of annoyance at Claire's hogging the nights conversation. 

When she wasn't speaking, Angus was asking her more questions. You watched him hang on her every word. You kept hoping he'd turn and give you those looks. You watched his fingers drum on the table, and wished his hands were holding yours. You realized then, just exactly how fucked you were. And how no matter when or how you had the inevitable conversation with Angus- that everything was different now between you two. When he started rambling about his thesis having something to do with ancient Roman law, you excused yourself again. 

Thinking fast, you gathered everyone's finished dinner plates to take to the sink, the perfect leave. Your anger dissolved into exhaustion by the time you reached the kitchen, you were getting a little sick of your own bullshit. You were growing weary over how out of control your life and emotions seemed these days. 

As you arranged the dirty dishes in the sink, something caught your eye from beyond the patio door windows. Through the never-ending fog of this San Fransico spring, a small grey blur. You turned your attention fully to the backyard, beyond the firepit, past the chairs. A slender grey cat was biting at the flowers Kiara planted for Tom. 

"Uh, guys." You called out for someone else to come and see this because there was no way they'd believe you if you simply told them. "Guys you have to come see this." You called again, a laughter breaking up your announcement. 

"What's wrong?" Angus came sauntering in, you heard him, but you didn't dare turn from the sight of the animal in the backyard. "Oh... my God." Angus approached, stalling at your side near the patio doors. He let out a chuckle too, disbelief painting a smile across his face that reached his almond eyes. You turned to look right at him. And he turned to look right at you. And for a moment you weren't sure what sight dazzled you more. The others came rushing in, pointing and laughing and standing in awe before the patio doors. The laughter that was born from shock kept erupting more and more between the four of you, until Soren was howling, and Angus was coughing and Kiara was nearly breathless.

"I don't get it. What's funny?" Claire asked, looming near the kitchen island with a look of perturbed wonder. Maybe Kiara was right. It was time to let some kind of light in.

///

"Open the dooooooor." Angus whined from outside your dorm, chanting the same thing over as you rushed to hide paper in your hands. It was a letter from your university.

You failed your finals. You failed this entire semester. 

Shoving the letter between your mattress and box spring, you clamored to unlock the door, letting your best friend inside. 

"Geeze, do you really have to lock all three locks on your door? I stood there freezing for hours it felt like, coulda died in that hallway."

"For somebody who came from a winter state you sure have a shit tolerance for temperature." You joked. But it had been a chilly spring. "I'm not taking my chances with the serial killers and the impatient East Coasters." 

Angus stood with his hands in his jacket pockets and that familiar brooding smirk on his face you were so damn endeared to. His smile was always a good sign. But still, you were suspicious of your friend's presence, still on uncertain terms.

"Want to come do laundry with me?" 

Finally, something normal. A usual request from Angus. A routine you could follow without question or wonder. Just a couple of spin cycles and whatever bullshit you each thought up to ramble over to pass the time. With a nod you grabbed your hamper and followed Angus to his car. The laundromat was a five-minute drive, one you spent turning the radio dials while Angus bitched about traffic. 

Inside the laundromat, rows of machines lined the walls and only a couple patrons stood separating whites from darks and folding fresh sheets. Some folk songs crackled from the speakers, but the whir of the dryers and washers drowned out the guitars. You each got down to business; loading your clothes into separate machines and lingering to wait on one another to head across the street. A diner waited, windows flooded with flyers and adds. 

Angus got you each a coffee and you ordered some fries. He mentioned going with Soren to a wedding in New York in a couple weeks. Yammering about summer plans. Angus considered the idea of tracking down his old professor when they got over there. You listened. You said you didn't have any plans. You clawed through topics in your head to keep up the facade of normalcy. But nothing could stop the silence that branched from the space in between you and your very best friend. You watched his lanky finger steal a fry from your basket without asking. You sat biting your lip instead of reprimanding him. 

"I took Claire on a date. Two nights ago." 

You nearly choked on the coffee you sipped to suppress your jitters. 

"Claire?" You rang, shooting Angus a look of disbelief. 

"I really like her. And she somehow really likes me." Angus reasoned, holding out a hand as if to pass along this information. You sat, playing back his sentence over and over in your head. Playing back the way they laughed together the night you met her. She seemed nice enough... But...

"I was going to wait and ask you... I don't know, for permission, I guess? But then I kind of figured if you wanted to talk about what happened with us, you would have by now. So that must mean you don't have anything to say, right? So, I asked Claire on a date. But then I felt like a real asshole about not telling you. So this is me... asking one last time. Do you want to talk about it? Do you care?" Angus ended his rambling admission by boring his dark eyes right into yours, and waiting. 

You sat, playing his words over and over. You sat remembering the warmth that filled your every cell when he first kissed you. You sat remembering how he said he wanted to do it again. You sat wondering why the fuck your body and your brain refused to function as a team, failing you from opening your mouth at all now. But if you couldn't do it... maybe Angus could.

"Do you? Care?" You dared to quiz the guy, your eyes darting between his, searching for understanding. 

"Wha- Why do-" Angus stuttered, his already furrowed gaze growing more perturbed by the second. "Are you listening? Do you hear me at all? I need to know how you feel." Angus leaned against the sticky table, as if his intense eye contact would get the answer he wanted out of you.

"I hear you." You breathed, nerves buzzing across your entire being.

"But are you listening?" 

"I can't stop you, Angus!" You finally burst. Anger pushed itself through your body until words formed against your better judgment. "If she makes you happy go for it. Hell, bring her over for dinner next Friday. It's the last one of the month."

Your friend sat obviously perplexed across from you. It was like he wanted you to tell him not to do it. But you couldn't stop Angus from living his life. You barely had control over your own these days. All you could muster up the ability to speak was a weak approval, despite the way your heart descended to your stomach.

///

"Here you are, dude." Soren handed you a coffee with a proud grin, like it was the first one he'd ever made. Your friend should've been proud, you ventured. His free spirit got the better of him years before now. He seemed to be finding his groove.

"Thanks sir. How'd you do on finals?" You really wanted to know his answer, knowing he'd worked so hard this year. Soren said he passed with flying colors. You said you knew he would. He said they'd all gotten together at Kiara's to celebrate. He said the cat came back. He said he really didn't think Angus and Claire made a good match at all. He wondered why you weren't there.

"I guess I wasn't invited. I haven't been a very good friend to Ki, lately." You shrugged. You knew you'd found yourself in this position by your own faults. But it still stung to know they'd gathered without you. 

"Oh. I thought it was an Angus thing." Soren shrugged. "He was real nervous about how you'd react to his asking Claire out and all."

"Yeah." You responded, searching Soren's gaze and watching him realize another customer was coming in. He smiled a sweet smile and hurried over to his register, giving you a wave from there. You shouted a 'see ya' on your way out.

///

You slaved over your stove the night Claire was meant to join your monthly get together. This all felt like a very bad idea. But Angus was your best friend. And you really did want to support him in whatever steps he put an effort into taking, in life.

Granted the two weeks they had been together were the longest of your college career. Tom was still dead, and Kiara was still cold with you. She let you come over and accepted your apologies. But she remained despondent the whole time you stayed, clearly in her head about things. But you understood what that was like. And weren't keen to push her further. 

Then your guests were here. And you felt even more like this was a very bad idea. But you played off your anxieties by deciding to pretend to be the best damn host on this side of the campus. You served Claire first and kept her glass of wine full and asked all about her life. Angus passed you several tight lipped smiles and subtle thank yous. You'd never met any girl he'd ever taken out. There had been a few, but none stuck around long enough. 

You could tell Claire really liked Angus. And he definitely deserved to be adored in the way the brilliant blonde was willing to adore him. But there was just something that undeniably clashed about their pairing. Maybe it was the fact she was a few years older, sleeker, more mature. Maybe it was how callow Angus seemed at her side. Or maybe it was just you.

When the night winded down and the girl offered to help you clean up, Angus went to the bathroom. And that's when a certain veil lifted. The pantomime of the evening enjoyed its intermission when Claire toted in a couple empty glasses to your sink. 

"I don't think I like you very much." She came right out with it. And not in a vindictive tone either. Just an honest one, and you respected that. 

"I see." You straightened your posture.

"I mean, you seem nice enough but... I don't like you around Angus. I'm sure if I ask, you'll lie but, have you two... ever..." The woman lifted a brow, drying off a couple plates as you rinsed some others. Passing a couple utensils through the water, you considered very carefully how to respond.

"Why should it matter? If nothing ever came of it?" You quizzed, shrugging your shoulders. The blonde at your side heaved a sigh through a gentle smile, continuing to help you clean up.

"Well, at least you didn't lie."

Angus swooped into the room soon after, suggesting it was time for himself and his date to take their leave. After a few minutes of pleasantries, they started out. But not before Angus flashed you an expressive lift of his brow, curl of his lip, as Claire turned to leave. He asked so much in that one glance, a talent of his you'd always been fascinated by. 

You flashed him a wide eye'd shake of your head, there was quite literally no time to talk about everything that had just happened tonight. But you hoped your face said it all just as well.

///

Soren sat across from you, hunched over his homemade lunch. You ordered a coffee from him before he took his break and scurried out to the tables to join you for a bit.

You swatted a strand of long sandy hair away from his meal and asked how he'd been. He mentioned being glad school was over for a bit. He mentioned the cat that kept showing back up at Kiara's patio door. He was convinced it was Tom, coming to visit. He knew it was crazy to think it, but he swore by his belief. He said Kiara thought he was nuts for it. He said she'd been grumpy lately anyway, cold. You selfishly hoped this meant she wasn't exclusively upset permanently with you. That she was just going through it.

"And don't even get me started on Angus and Claire." Soren scoffed, taking a bite of lunch. 

"Oh, please get started." 

"She's so possessive. Protective I could understand but she's possessive to a fault. He can't even bring up girls he works with, without Claire coming unglued." 

Well, that explained why you hadn't heard from your very best friend in a couple very long weeks. You phoned him the day after that fateful dinner. He never answered or returned the call. You hadn't even seen his car on the campus lot, as it began to empty out. Summer had officially begun, and most everyone was graduated or off coping with the last semester before the next one kicked off.

"He says hi, by the way." Soren rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't have to be the damn messenger. Jealousy confounds me." Your friend flared his nostrils and shook his head before taking another bite of his sandwich. You couldn't help but chuckle at your usually laid-back friend's fiery disposition.

"Thanks for filling me in. Wanna share some of that cookie?" You shrugged, changing the subject. There was nothing you could do to change the way things were. There was nothing more to say. You were beginning to cope with the fact that the morning Tom died, everything changed. Everyone was different for better or for worse. Life was different now. And you were beginning to cope with that fact.

///

Today was the day of auditions. You sure as hell were not about to show up and dance. But you couldn't stop staring at your calendar- and the note you'd left there ages ago to remind yourself about try outs. A fleeting wonder crossed you mind, about showing up anyway. A fleeting consideration pressed with in you, for the outcome if you were to dance your ass off to try and earn a spot you knew you'd never land- just to have the last laugh.

When the phone started to ring, your roommate answered. But it wasn't long until she was twirling the cord closer to you, heading to take over the sofa.

"You have a competition or something today, don't you?" Angus voice crackled through the telephone line. You leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes still glued to your calendar, and huffed a laugh. What an unexpected voice to hear, cutting through your what if's, today.

"No I uh, I changed my mind." You revealed. You hadn't told anyone what happened, not really. You felt like you had more pressing issues to consider, back then. And now you weren't sure if any of it still mattered or not.

"Oh." Angus replied in a shock that nearly took you by surprise. "Well in that case, want to go see a movie?"

He was outside your dorm honking ten minutes later. 

"I'm putting my shoes on, Geeze!" You hollered out the window. Angus yelled for you to hurry up, laying on his horn all over again. Your roommate started yelling soon after, demanding you get the hell out before Angus honking drove her bonkers.

"It's not my fault you called me so last minute!" You shouted, jogging to hop in his passenger seat. 

"It starts in like four minutes!" Angus whined to your amazement. He was such a pain in the ass sometimes. But then you smiled and realized that you hadn't been worried about something so trivial concerning Angus in a couple months. You'd missed the hell out of this. But... why was it happening now?

"Why did you call me to invite me to a movie if you thought I had a competition today?" 

"I called to wish you luck. And to apologize for not calling sooner. I've been pretty confused."

"Soren told me Claire's been a bit... territorial. You know that night at dinner while you were in the bathroom she told me she didn't like me?" You sighed a humorless laugh.

"Yeah." Angus scoffed a hopeless chuckle, breaking the speed limit all the while. You cursed at him to slow down before he went on to say, "She gave me an ear full that night too. And I wanted to respect her worries, ya know? Show her she had nothing to worry about. But then her worries turned into accusations, and the past two weeks have been constant interrogations with her. So, I broke up with her last night."

"Oh my God?"

Somehow, you actually didn't see that coming. Not so soon, anyway. Not so abruptly. While there wasn't much new information to process, the news still made your brain whir. A few billion what if's and what now's bubbled into the back of your mind while you realized the turn your evening had taken.

"I'm sorry she was rude to you. And I'm sorry I've been distant." Angus furrowed his brow and lowered his tone, speaking very seriously now. All the while he whipped his car into the movie theater parking lot and turned off the engine. "Now get out, we've already missed the previews. this is a Burt Renyolds film we're dealing with, go, go!"

"Oh my God, okay!" You hurried, slamming the car door shut. "No. Hey! Slow down it is not that serious." You remarked, following orders but refusing to jog at the speed Angus darted toward the theater doors.

Two tickets to The Longest Yard and one massive bucket of popcorn later, you were back to normal. Angus settled at your side and swatted at your hand when you reach for the popcorn at the same time as him. You plucked a kernel to toss at him in offense. He sighed and lifted a couple pieces to your lips as a silent apology. You chuckled and relaxed and thanked God for the turn of events. 

You learned not to take it for granted. It could very well be the last evening of its kind you got to share with Angus. Death and dates and all kinds of reasons kept getting in the way of normalcy for the pair of you. Maybe that's what adulthood was. Maybe that was life. But so was this. And for that you were grateful.

The ride home was short, and filled with chatter about the film. And when Angus pulled into an actual covered parking space instead of haphazardly in front of your building; you felt hopeful that meant he would stick around.

"Wanna come in for a bit?" You offered, glad for the way you'd been able to banter so easily tonight. Longing to stretch out your visit, craving connection with Angus for longer than a few weeks now.

"I gotta meet up with Claire to give her some stuff back. I owe her that much." Angus stretched out his words, leaning his head against the back of the seat, turning to give you a sorry smile. You could tell he didn't want to go, not really. But he was right.

"I've just really missed you." You decidedly shrugged, looking right at him. Not even just the way he touched you that night. But his well-meaning laugh and his stories about what he'd been reading. His looks for you to decode across rooms. Him.

Angus nodded, that brooding grin of his forming across his features. He reached a hand across the bench of his front seat, tracing a finger against your thigh. You watched his hand ghost to stall on your knee- before you held out a slacked arm, scooting closer all the while. You needed him to wrap his arms around you, no matter what that meant. No matter what he felt when he did it. You needed him to. 

And he did. Angus welcomed your embrace with his own, holding you tight in place for a moment before his head buried into the crook of your neck. You weren't even thinking when you moved your hands to brush his hair back. Angus moved as you did, his hold on you stayed steady, but his eye blinked up to meet yours.

And then you realized it was happening again. Your heart began to hammer, you knew he could feel it. Your brain buzzed with thoughts of only Angus. Your eye's longed to gaze more intently into his. Your hands wandered to consider the curve of his spine, the strength of his core.

"I've missed you too." Angus whispered, as his arms loosened, his hands trailing to the bend of your waist. 

The kiss that followed was fierce. Your teeth clashed with Angus' and your breath caught in your throat. His fingers gripped to grab at your shirt, yanking you toward him. Your knees settled on either side of his hips. Your nails scratched along his torso before landing on his belt. It was just like before, neither of you could move fast enough. Every move seemed detrimental. But no touch lingered long enough to drive you crazy. You wouldn't let it. You needed to get to the point.

Angus picked up on your desperate pace, aiding in undoing his belt while his lips brushed along your neck. A quick shuffle of fabric was the last step to take before you were easing into Angus' lap completely as possible. You were sober enough this time to think to lock eyes as you rocked against him, shivering at the sight of Angus slack jawed enjoyment. 

He let one hand brush across your cheek as his other clawed at your thigh, pulling you close as possible. You watched in awe as Angus stuttered a curse. You moved with intention, and he did too. Trailing his fingers from your face, to your chest, to the very middle of you- adding immensely to your pleasure. It was your turn to stammer curses and struggle to catch a steady breath. It wasn't long before you both reached your peak. But it felt like forever. It felt like all of time and space had collided to stall, as you shagged Angus in the front seat of his car. You relished every flame of feeling. You savored the way his eyes stayed locked with yours. You reveled in the smile that turned to corners of his lips upward. You had really missed him.

Quiet filled the car as you slinked up and away, falling into a puddle nearer the passenger seat. Angus cleared his throat, moving to fasten his trousers. 

"Now what?" He asked in a hush. 

"You gotta go. Right?" You shrugged. That was that. Right? 

/// 

The Summer

Kiara followed her internship to Canada for the season. Tom was still dead. You had no dance class. You had just failed your semester. Angus and Soren had left for some wedding in New York. Not that their absence mattered much anyway. Because your best friend hadn't spoken to you since the spontaneous movie night. Since the second more profound and regrettable hook up. Not that you wished you never done it. But that you wished you would have said something different when it was over. Something that didn't make Angus jaw clench as he watched you get out of his car.

Several days passed since you'd heard from Angus. Despite the few times you'd called and the once you'd turned up at his dorm only for his roommates to shrug and say he'd been out all night. Then it was time for the New York trip.

And it seemed unstoppable, the call from your bed to stay there. You had no reason at all to get up. You had nothing to do. Nothing to think about. For days you stayed locked up in your room, completely despondent to any and everything.

Then your roommate knocked persistently enough to stir you from your den. She mentioned her flight for Japan was in a couple hours and asked for a ride to the airport. Your bones ached to move, your brain longed for a fresher perspective. So, you decidedly ended your wallowing in your own despair to slip into a change of clothes and drive to the airport.

The drive was refreshingly quiet. The blue of the sky and the air through the windows made you feel free. Made you realize you were not as trapped in that little campus as you felt. Your roommate had been fiddling with the radio dial as you'd considered the great big world beyond her dodge dart.

"Oh my God, hey!" Your roommate chirped over the crackle of a news anchors morning announcements of weather and traffic conditions. "Today is your birthday, isn't it?"

"Holy shit." You realized. "It is." you'd been so lost in the cave you created out of bed sheets that you'd almost lost track of time. Your roommate proceeded to shower you with well wishes, asking if you had any plans. 

You did. Earlier in the year, Angus talked you into going out on this date, having a ball. When you'd each gone through the calendar at the start of the year, you realized each of your birthdays were on the last Friday of either month. Angus said that was too crazy to be a coincidence. He said you needed to make the most of these celebrations. But that was back when things were different. 

"Not sure. After I drop your car off, I'll see where the day takes me."

"About that." Your roommate proceeded to inform you that she wasn't just visiting Japan. She'd decided last minute to move there, start anew. She had a fiancé and a place to go, and an abundance of plans. She wondered if you could leave her car for sale in the school lot and mail her the money. Lots of favors from this one today, you thought. But then...

"How much?" You wondered. Your roommate rambled about how much she paid for it, thinking of selling it for half the price now. 

"I'll buy it." You blurted, surprising yourself even. You'd had funds saved up now with nothing to spend them on. You may as well had started thinking of your new path forward. 

"Oh, that's right," Your roommate realized you'd been without your own transportation for a while now, and said she felt silly for not thinking to offer it to you right away. Once stalled outside the airport you wondered how much money you stashed in your wallet, finding only a couple hundred dollars. Your roommate stuck her hand out as you passed her the bills, but you were shocked when she handed you most of it back. 

"Happy birthday, and thanks for the ride. It was nice bunking with you!"

In the span of a thirty-minute ride you'd been shown a kindness that filled your heart. You'd considered new sets of hope you'd never knew existed. You saw the sun. You gained a car. You turned another year older. 

Driving back to campus, dread threatened to overcome you once more. But it was your birthday damn it. You had to find some way to keep yourself from slipping back into that bed of yours. 

To the cafe, it was. And to your surprise, Soren was there. 

"Happy birthday!" Soren smiled, arms opened wide behind the counter of his job. You chuckled and leaned across the sticky space to hug your friend. He said he'd tried to stop by your dorm this morning but no one answered. He must've arrived there as you left.

"I forgot you were meant to be back so soon." You said.

"My flight landed a couple days ago, Angus stayed to meet up with that old teacher he always talks about." Soren shrugged, going on to gush about the wedding they'd attended. And how much fun the boys had free of studies and schedules, away together. You stood there and listened, happy for Soren on one hand. Hurt by Angus absence all the while.

"Angus didn't say when he'd be back. But I swore I saw his car today. Could've just smoked too much before my shift though." Soren laughed as he poured you a coffee, free of charge. For your birthday, he insisted. You smiled and thanked your friend. Pursing your lips to suppress the surprising amount of emotion that rose within you at how kind everyone was being today. How much you didn't feel like you deserved their kindness.

"Thanks. Have a good shift, friend." 

Your next stop was the market. Your cupboards were bare, you already knew. And now that you were out of your stupor, your stomach ached with hunger. Some dinner, a drink, and a little tiny cake because why the hell not. Whether you deserved everyone else's kindness, you were allowed to make the most of today, right?

The afternoon passed slowly, light turning to dark outside. You considered Soren's story, how he thought he saw Angus' car today. How there was a chance he was back on campus. With a shot in the dark, you rang his dorm with your fingers crossed. No one answered, but you couldn't be too disappointed. He was still on the East Coast, you decided. He would've stopped by today right? If he was back in town, and if he knew it was your birthday, he would've stopped by. 

But then, you knew he knew it was your birthday. And night turned to morning, and he hadn't called. He would've at least called, right? If you hadn't fucked it all up, he would've. If everything hadn't changed, he should have. But all of a sudden it was four in the morning. And the slice of cake you'd saved just in case Angus came around was swiftly sent to the garbage. And the realization that everything was different was followed by the understanding that you didn't have a single thing stopping you from starting all over.

You cleaned up and found your suitcase and started throwing things in. Forming a quick plan, you found a notebook and a pen and hurriedly wrote your friends name on one side and a quick note on the other. Even though you were pissed at Angus, and hurt and confused by the turn your friendship had taken, he still deserved a goodbye.

'i dropped out. might call when i get settled someplace. here is to hoping you'll answer if i do'

It was cutting. It was short. But it was all true, and it wass the best thing you could think up, so hastily. You zipped your bags and threw them in your new back seat. You marched to Angus' dorm and slid the note under his door. You zoomed off campus and felt the weight of all that had happened fall from your chest.

You looked ahead as day light broke on the horizon, and smiled.

///

The Future

For a month, you kept your job cleaning houses, crossing the bridge to the rich neighborhoods as often as you could. You'd found a perfect little flat on the outskirts of a suburb. You even considered applying to some of the shops along the town's strip so you wouldn't have to drive as often.

You'd banked on the kindness of delivery drivers to help you move a bed and a few other furnishings into your new space. You'd decorated with mementos you'd clung to from childhood, and a couple pictures of the four greatest friends you'd ever had. When Tom was still alive, and everyone was carefree. Though all of that had ended, the photos you cherished from before brought you the same happiness you'd felt when the snapshots were taken.

You'd called Soren once or twice. To make sure someone knew you weren't dead. To make sure he was still showing up on time to work and to listen to the plot of whatever comic he was in the middle of reading. If conversation began to drift too far outside of those topics, you'd let your friend know you had to go, but promised to keep in touch.

You were just starting to feel like life made sense. You were just beginning to consider that not all hope was lost. While you were still at a loss for what to hope for, you were beginning to consider that there was a future beyond despair. Maybe it was finally time to call your best friend. Maybe you could talk to him now, without completely losing it...

You kept these thoughts at bay, not daring to let them spin your mind and soul into a depression. You pulled into a gas station, deciding only to occupy your afternoon with trivial things. With easy thoughts and simple tasks. You were allowed to do just that.

Just as you began to lose track of your thoughts in a daydream, leaned against your trunk watching the gas fill- a car screeched recklessly into the gas station lot. A woman carrying a couple of fountain sodas scurried out of the way of the boxy car and nearly dropped her beverages. A couple by standers cursed out the hapless driver as the car continued to skirt crookedly behind yours. You knew that make and model. You knew that scratched passenger door.

Oh, God.

Angus was clamoring from the driver's seat, slamming his door before he stomped up right to your face, yelling for the whole lot to hear.

"You dropped out?" Angus hissed. His dark curls bobbing as he pointed an angry finger your way. You saw a funny little rage in his gaze. And that pissed you off more than you'd already been.

"Oh, you found my note? How long did it take you?" You jabbed. "Three or four days? Week or two?"

"You can't drop out! There is only one year left!" Angus was in awe, waving his hands at you, yelling like there was a bubble between the pair of you he had to shout past to get your attention.

"I'm surprised you're aware of that. Haven't necessarily been keeping track of important dates as of late, have you?" You shot the guy a glare that could have killed him if your eyes were lasers or worse.

"Look, I know. I'm sorry. I am sorry." Angus whined your name, reaching out to grab your arm as you adjusted the gas pump from your car to its holder.

"For what?" You challenged. Because you believed he still hadn't realized how important this last time his absence had been.

"For going M.I.A. For not calling. For... everything. I have missed you, I just-" Angus sighed and cast his eyes down in shame you could feel begin to radiate from him. But ache as your heart might've for him, because it always had, you were far from done being mad.

"You've never missed my birthday before." You rose a brow, a sting filling up your chest that you had to make it so obvious to him. Angus head rose up slow, his downtrodden gaze turned into one of shock horror.

"Oh my God, no." He frowned. "No, no, no- I'm... so sorry," Angus called your name as you rolled your eyes and turned to open your car door. His please for you to stop mixed among a billion sorry's in the span of a minute. His hand stalled on your driver's door, and you stood glaring as Angus began to ramble. "Soren barely knew you'd left. He couldn't help me." Angus explained. "I went all around campus asking if you'd told anyone where you'd gone. So last resort, I drove across the bridge to Miss Julie's to ask if she'd seen you, and finally-"

Mid sentence, your brain whirred. This mother fucker drove an hour and a half across the city to ask a woman whose house you cleaned every other weekend if she'd seen you? Okay, maybe he cared more than you thought.

"And you don't call, you don't write, you leave me a vague ass note like I-"

And then you were pissed again. Because you did call. Angus was the one who left you hanging this last time.

"Angus, we are not doing this here." You swatted at him, breaking his grip on your car door. With a heavy sigh you asked him to follow you to your new little flat. Where you could yell all night long without a lot full of strangers gawking at the pair of you.

Your grip was white knuckled the whole drive home. Your heart was in your throat. There was no getting out of whatever confrontation that laid ahead with you and Angus. This was it.

You parked in your usual spot and marched toward the apartments to the tune of Angus slamming his door. You reached your home in a couple of turns, unlocking the door, and letting it swing open behind you. Angus slithered in as you hurried inside, straight for the bottle of rum on your counter. Finding two glasses in the cupboard, Angus stalled in the middle of your living space and decidedly went on where he left off. 

"Why the hell didn't you tell me about dropping out?" He called your name. His voice was softer than it had been at the gas pump. But his tone was more desperate. You took a sip of your drink, and slid his toward the end of the counter, locking eyes. You moved closer toward where he stood as Angus went on. "Why the hell didn't you tell me what happened with that dance instructor. Shit, you barely told Soren. But he knew. Why won't you talk to me?" Angus brought a hand to his middle, like he was holding in everything from spilling over. His usual brooding expression was downcast more than usual. His hair a little longer. His eyes still your favorite pair. You had really missed Angus.

"I don't know Angus! I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. I tried so hard to pass finals and I failed harder the more I tried. I gave everything I had to that dance class, and it blew up in my face. And then you... us... I couldn't afford to fuck up anymore. I had to go." You spoke, emotion raising in your voice as you stood sweeping a hand to gesture as you explained.

"You didn't fuck everything up. You can still take summer classes. You can fix it. You can find a new dance class. And I... you didn't fuck us up." Angus declared, speaking clearly but wearing a look as if he may have been unsure of himself. You watched as your friend took a few steps toward the drink you poured him. In the matter of a moment, his taste of rum was gone, and he was shamelessly reaching for the bottle to pour another drink.

"What if what I want doesn't matter?" You started, as he poured. "I tried so hard to pass and I failed. I tried so hard to dance and none of my practicing mattered more than a sexual favor would've. What if... what if I want you? What will the catch be? Because there seems to always be one, with me." You'd never been more clear. 

"Look I wasn't sure what we were going through at first." Angus sighed after sipping his second drink. And then he took a moment to glance about the room, seeming to decide something. "But then I went to that wedding, and I realized exactly what I wanted and how I felt. It's still confusing, you and me. But I want there to be a you and me, okay?" He seemed to mean it. He seemed to really mean what he said. But there was still a look of unnerve painted across his features.

"Angus you forgot my birthday." You reminded, downing the rest of your drink. Cocking his head sorrily, Angus reached for the rest of his rum.

"I know." He said. "And I'm sorry. I was late getting back into town." Angus sighed. "And my mother was in my dorm room when I got back, imagine that surprise-"

"Your mom?" You gasped. In the entire three and a half years you knew Angus, he'd only spoken about the woman twice, and spoken on the phone with her once. She'd never come to visit. As you processed this information you watched Angus' jaw clench, his teeth dig into his lip, his brow darken. 

"Yeah, so my dad... he, uh-" Angus blinked up to the ceiling, unable to hide the tremble in his voice.

"Angus, no."

"I tried to visit him when I was out there, after I met up with Paul. But when I asked to see my dad they said he'd been moved out of the facility for months, moved to some hospital, no one could remember which. And then my flight... And she didn't even tell me he'd been sick. She refused a funeral. And I never even got to say goodbye." Angus spoke like every word tore at his throat. Tears pooled in his eyes, falling when they filled up too much. 

"Why didn't you start with that?" You rang, unable to comprehend how so much loss and hurt could continue to reign over this year. You stepped forward to reach for Angus, grabbing at his arms and moving to smooth back his hair, wiping away the tear drop he missed with his sleeve.

"Because" Angus implored, shockingly ready with an answer. "This has been way too confusing for way too long and I couldn't keep it in any longer." He waved at the space that existed between you and himself, keeping his bloodshot brown eyes lasered to yours all the while. "If I want you, and if you want me, then what's stopping this from happening for us?"

"Because," You began, deciding in this moment to be brutally honest. The most honest you'd been all year. "I'm scared."

Angus shook his head, rejecting your reasoning. 

"You don't think I'm fucking scared too?" He huffed like it was obvious. But it hadn't been to you. "I love you. And that's terrifying. I'm in love with you. Enough to wait for you to say it back, if you want to. But you better only decide against this if you don't want it. You can't let this pass us by just because you're scared."

You struggled to hold back the tears springing into your eyes. You struggle to croak out any response that wasn't a curse. You struggled to wrap your mind around all that had been said. You couldn't help but let a sob escape, too overwhelmed by it all.

And then Angus was crying too, really crying. There was no reason left to hold back, to keep emotions locked down. Everything was out in the open now. Every tattered heartbroken truth had been shared. And there was nothing you could do to make it all better, no way to make sense of it in a flash. But you knew you could wrap your arms around Angus and hold on for dear life. 

When his lips met the crown of your head, you were reminded of every time he'd done so before. You were reminded of every late-night pub crawl and bad first date and mean teacher. You remembered every weekend road trip, every movie night in, every homemade dinner. And then you thought of now. You thought of all the hurt. You thought of all the tension and all the grief and all the looks across rooms shared with Angus. You hadn't a clue how to move ahead with him. You wanted to move ahead, but you just couldn't see how.

You began to push away. You shouldered out from Angus' hold on you and wiped at your eyes with a sleeve. You, gently as possible, moved his hand that clung to your side still. 

"Don't do that. Don't shut me out again." Angus implored; voice still wrought. Eye's still bright with sadness. 

"I know it's not what you want but I don't have any other answer for you right now. I'm sorry about everything too, Angus. I'm so sorry about your dad. But I can't- I don't know. Not yet." You sniffled. 

"This didn't go how I hoped." Angus released a heavy sigh, turning to pace before your kitchen counter. "But I'm gonna do what I said." He pointed at you. "I'm gonna wait and hope you'll give me a chance. I just need to make it clear that I don't want any version of my future to be without you in it. So... whatever you decide... I just love you okay? Do you hear me?" Angus rang. Then you remembered how he asked that same question at the diner. 

"I'm listening. And I hear you. And I'm sorry. Just... give me more time."

Angus left that afternoon with a grin when you asked him to stop back again in a couple days. And you went to bed that night in tears, happy or sad you weren't sure. 

///

A few months had passed since Angus appeared out of nowhere and berated you in the gas station parking lot. He was starting his final year of school. He stopped over most Fridays, and some nights in between. Sometimes Soren came with him, and you'd all stay up past midnight cackling like a band of fools. You'd sent Kiara your new address, and she sent some post cards from Canada. The messages she included were never very long, but she always signed her name with a heart dotting the I. 

On the weekends Angus hung around, he mentioned missing Tom. He mentioned wishing he didn't have to miss Kiara too. Wishing for one more night all together. When Angus hung around, he talked a lot about his studies and the stories from the history books he'd been learning. When he hung around, he'd sometimes end up staying the night. When he left the mornings after, he'd always end up coming back around.

You kept cleaning houses. You kept those old pictures hung up like trophies. You wondered about finding a new dance studio on this side of town. But you weren't sure if you were ready. So, all things considered, you went to that little cafe on your old campus to find a friend for lunch.

"So, I went to Claires house yesterday." Soren began his story with a wry grin, unwrapping his meal from home. The coffee shop was busier than usual, full of students new to campus and ones eager to leave. "I asked her if that cat still hung around. Long story short she said if I could catch him, I could keep him. So I went to the gas station on the corner and bought a bag of jerky. Set up a little trail from the fence to the patio. It was about an hour before the little guy showed up. He didn't even go for the jerky he just came right up to me and let me pick him up!"

Soren went on to explain how easy it was to take the cat home and how soundly the pet had been sleeping in his window sill. You laughed and beamed and felt glad for the outcome on your friend's behalf. You couldn't imagine the basket case he'd have become if the cat fought his capture. 

The cafe began to crowd with more people, somehow, standing between tables that all filled up with patrons. Soren sighed and rushed to finish his food, knowing they'd want his help the busier business got. 

"We really need to meet up sometime when it's not your break." You mentioned. He nodded, sharing part of his dessert like he always did. 

"Do you always bring your lunch? I never see you order here." You realized, suddenly. Besides coffee, there were some reasonably decent snacks the cafe had to offer. But Soren never seemed to indulge.

"I don't even like coffee, man." 

You laughed and wondered why the hell he worked here then. 

"It's the first job that called me back after an interview. It's the job that got me out of debt. I love it here. Everything comes full circle, ya know?" Soren explained, but you asked him to go on still. 

"It's like with Tom. He died, man. But that little grey cat that ate the flowers we planted for Tom lets me feed him fast food every night. You can't convince me that's not my friend. He came back." Soren waved a hand, as if to rope his next point in with the one he'd just made. "I needed money, I got a job and made enough to pay off my debt and enough to pack my own lunches every day. Everything we want is already ours. If it doesn't happen one time it'll happen another. It's all a big circle."

Somehow, a light switched on in your brain. Somehow, everything you'd been worried about didn't feel so heavily weighed on your chest. Somehow, you had an answer for Angus.

"Soren, you brilliant hippie freak." You gawked at your friend in awe as he rushed to take one last bite of the sandwich he'd brought. Soren was hurrying to stand, hurrying to get back to work. And you were suddenly in a rush too, now that everything clicked. With a quick hug goodbye, you darted for the shop doors, excusing yourself through a crowd of grumpy college students eagerly awaiting their caffeine fix.

///

Your home was quiet, the good kind. Stillness welcomed you as your thoughts continued to align in place for what felt like the first time in your entire life. Your brain was free of cluttered worries. Your heart was beating at a steady pace. It was all clicking. And you even still had a couple hours to make a decent dinner for two.

Angus arrived when he said he would, bursting in the door with complaints of teachers who were bad at their jobs and students who were too dumb to care. You laughed and listened and set a place at your table for him. Over dinner, you talked about considering dancing again. Angus encouraged you. He talked about taking a year after graduating to relax. You said he should. You each helped clean up easily and welcomed the quiet together. 

You each floated to the couch afterward like you were used too by now. You let the telly play whatever was on, and relaxed under the weight of your best friends arm that laid over your shoulders.

"Angus..." You decided, grabbing his attention as both of your eyes stayed glued to the actor on the screen. Your friend hummed in response. 

"I miss the way everything was before." You admitted. You missed your friends, the nights you all spent as a group. You missed the life you'd had worked out for yourself back then. You noticed Angus had turned his head to face you, his brows lifted as if to display sympathy. His grief free to reveal itself for a moment. Angus' almond eyes floated from his lap to meet yours as you shot him a pursed shrug. 

"It scares me that this is what life has played out like." You went on, watching Angus watch you speak. His eyes landed on your lips. His voice was a whisper when he asked you to go on. 

"What if we keep changing?" You implored, nodding toward Angus as his gaze danced from your eyes to your mouth. "If we fall in love I want it to stay that way. I can't have you be my next great disaster. I'd rather keep you at a distance than dare to let you break my heart somehow." You revealed. 

Angus rose his hand to brush across your face. He let his fingers find your hair and curl among the strands.

"We've already lost a bit of what we were before, haven't we?" You begged for clarification, validation, mutual understanding. If you were gonna let him in, you needed Angus to remember all the reasons you'd been weary to do so, up till now. You needed to make sure his mind hadn't locked onto worry and changed.

He was pressing a gentle kiss to your lips then. A simple soft gesture that lingered with intention. 

"Why does it have to be lost? Why can't it just be changed for the better?" Your friend wondered, his voice low, his presence before you whole and consistent as ever. You'd heard enough to shut up and kiss him back. And then it was happening, what usually happened when Angus kissed you. Your heart hammered and your brain latched onto thoughts of only him and your hands gripped to pull him close. 

Angus dragged you to bed, something that had happened a few times here, in this new reality. You did all the things there that you had done before. You marveled over how Angus held you and cared for you and stared at you with undeniable adoration.

And after a while, when you'd both done all you could do, you laid there still. In the low lamp light, you stayed tangled up with Angus, running fingers through his hair and listening to his heartbeat. And you talked about what compelled each of you to kiss in the first place. You talked about how you felt the night he shagged you on the guest bedroom floor. He talked about how overwhelmed he was when you boned him in the front seat of his car. You collectively wondered how different things might've turned out if Tom didn't die. If school went better. What life would look like now, if things were different.

"I don't know. I've been worried that I don't have control over anything. Like my whole life has just happened to me. What if that's like... my curse?" You sighed, staring up at the amber glow from your bed side lamp.

"I've been where you are, before. When I met Paul. And one night he told me 'your history doesn't have to define your destiny.' And that rocked my world, man." Angus lamented. "I wish I could explain it all away for you just as easy. But all I can do is wait, and hope something clicks for you. Wait and hope you'll see something good enough in me to let me prove it to you. That's what love is, isn't it? Or could be?"

"Yeah. It already clicked for me." You revealed. It was time. It was easy to admit. It was true. Angus hummed as a plea for clarity, tapping his finger against your temple out of habit, you assumed. 

"It already clicked for me. That can be what love is. We can be in love and scared about it together." You said. 

The room filled with a quiet you were familiar with. Angus laid still beneath you. Until finally he spoke up. 

"You mean that?" 

Soren said that everything you may have wanted in life was already yours. And some how that made sense. No matter that Tom died, he was your friend. Nothing could change that fact. Kiara had been so distant, but she was writing to you. She came back. Soren caught the cat. And Angus laid in your bed. And no matter what had happened before, he was here now, and you didn't want to take that for granted out of fear it might all slip away. 

With a grin and a nod, you shifted to meet Angus' almond eyes. His were hazy under his brooding brow. You were glad you didn't have to miss him anymore. He was all yours. You'd always belonged to him whether you realized it or not. And nothing was going to change that.

///

That holiday season you joined Angus on a trip to the East Coast. He made fun of you for being so cold but shared his jackets all the while. Angus took you to all the places his dad used to like. You helped him hold a memorial his mother denied planning, and neither of you mentioned her at all. 

You sat beside him in a cab, watching a steady snow fall collect along the sidewalks. You were on your way to meet your boyfriend's favorite old teacher. You planned to tell him all about Tom. In fact, you had a lot of plans that featured Angus these days. And he, with you. And of that you were very happily certain.

[black-rabbit-razumikhin]

Raz Reads Les Mis (XX)

Marius - Friends of the A B C

This chapter was incredibly fun, and introduced a cast that could carry the rest of this book

But I don't want them to because I want to see Valjean again

We meet the original Dead Poets Society, or at least the political French version of them

Their membership being comprised of Enjolras, Combeferre, Prouvaire, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Lesgle, Joly and Gran

taire

Enjolras is our natural leader, our beauty, our pillar of everything the Friends of the A B C aspire to, the logic, the backbone

Combeferre is the water to Enjolras' fire, the philosophy to his logic, the balance to his passion

Prouvaire (or Jehan) loves love, he is the soft romantic, he will bring flowers to a first date

Feuilly is an orphan and lives of hard work for low pay, obsessed with international relations and adopting the people of France when there was nobody there to adopt him

Courfeyrac is the exact same character as Tholomyes, but I beg to disagree - I have a hit on Tholomyes, I'd be friends with Courfeyrac

Hugo creates a trilogy of Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac; Enjolras the chief, Combeferre the guide, Courfeyrac the centre

Bahorel's whole personality is that he never wants to be a lawyer and sees even the law school as a carrier of infectious disease

Lesgle (called Bousseut) is berated for a whole page for being bald at 25 - this is just ergonomical for French summers, leave him alone

Joly is our medic, who is also a hypochondriac and if he were around today he'd run a witchcraft Tumblr

Grantaire is apparently ugly and in love with Enjolras and compared to both Patroclus and Hephaestion

I have opinions on Enjolras and Grantaire

But I will treat them as platonic (and not unrequited pining) and a metaphor until evidence suggests otherwise

And I think Courfeyrac is my favourite, from these descriptions at least - the irony

This is the group that Marius stumbles upon, all because he and Bousseut share a law class together that Marius didn't attend

Courfeyrac meets Bousseut and Marius while they are talking together at a cafe and Marius is introduced to the rest of the Friends

Courfeyrac calls him "a pupil" when he learns of Marius' political ideology - a little too pro-Napoleon for the Friends, but Courfeyrac's whole intro screams "I can fix him"

The Friends are drinking and Grantiare is rambling about 100 different topics, making the sort of sense that someone drunk will, the sort that they probably don't realise themselves doing

Somehow, through fate, the conversation turns to Waterloo

Waterloo! Marius knows Waterloo

The impassioned, naieve child talks with so much pride of how much he adores and respects Napoleon

The Friends are shocked into silence

But Enjolras is there to lead him out of the darkness of the woods

Poor Marius is confused for where his beliefs now lie, but the pupil will soon learn

Rent becomes due for his hotel, which Courfeyrac offers to pay, but Marius insists on doing himself

"Yeah I'll just sell my clothes and learn English and German and I'll be fine"

His principles even stop him from accepting financial aid from his aunt

And thus is how the life of Marius begins

This chapter was great! I really enjoyed meeting all the Friends and seeing their unique personalities and viewpoints all start to blend into one unified group. @pilferingapples is your url lifted from Grantaire's rant perhaps? I can just imagine him drunk and jovial and telling the Friends anything and everything that comes into his mind. He and Enjolras seem like the perfect opposites to bookend the society of the Friends with. And I want to know how Marius fares! Does his mind change? Is he accepted? Does he manage to find his way in the world?

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dear Dapper - you're so great at helping me think through ideas and creative blocks, and you have such great thoughts about DnD religions, so I hope this question is perfect for you. (Forgive the length, feel free to trim in any posting).

Our campaign is set in a world where the gods found some "clay" and sculpted a world out of it. Most of the various plots stem from the earliest, most powerful creations having various emotions about this act (resentment and reformation, jealousy, an overextended sense of ownership, or feeling they can redo it better). In the past, the sense of resentment led to a war where the traditional, but respected, judge-like, ferryman-style psychopomp god of death was killed. He now exists as a partial remnant, God of Undeath - the dark moon. The other gods then fled, abandoning creation.

My character started as a cleric of the light moon goddess, and as perhaps the most mythologically invested player, I've been expanding to become pan-theistic - trying to round up what remains of divine power into beneficent hands (ie, against the bbeg). In a recent story arc, a part of his soul was stolen, then given freely to this God of Undeath.

The God's angry (presumably about being killed - the how is an upcoming plot point). He's viewed as asleep, and wants to 'wake' the living world into undeath. His worshippers are secretive necromancers and the undead. Otherwise his themes so far are generally gothy, macabre and evil.

I think my character's desire is to try to restore him in some way, or at least, 'wake' him into some element of his former neutral/benevolent self. As a player, I want to toy with the scary, gothiness of this change, and dance with temptation a bit. As both, I want to find some good or positive elements to the Undeath angle that I can spin.

What ideas does this generate for you? In particular, what are some positives from undeath that I could play with? Why would a normal living wizard fall into the necromantic worship of this 'deity' (other than the selfish desire for immortality as a lich or vampire)?

Thanks for any thoughts you might have!

Fundamentally any depiction of the undead are really a portrayal of our relationship TO death, and the many reactions we can have regarding it's suddenness, tragedy, and inevitability.

A god that's angry about their own inevitable demise strikes me as one that's stuck mid way through the seven stages of grief, a state not unlike undeath because it leaves those trapped in it unable to move on. Cultists might think they're gaining immortality through undeath but really they're trapping themselves in bereaved stasis.

The ultimate resolution then is taking steps toward catharsis and acceptance, of letting go, and coming to terms with the loss as a form of exorcism. Perhaps your character also had a significant death in their life and had trouble moving on, and wants to give this god the same hardwon peace they finally achieved, or achieve it by working things out through this god.

I find it interesting that "gothy" is a term that's brought up multiple times in your description, because one of the big parts about goth subculture (other than a kickass music scene) is a philosophy that asks us to not shy away from the fear of death but instead look at it head on, unpleasant as it is, and say " I embrace you and in doing so I acknowledge how great life really is"

[valtsv]

sure you look pretty feminine but even in your selfies you just exude Guy Energy to me. idk what it is or how you do it. you could be more done up than a queen and i'd still look at you and be like "yeah they sure are some guy"

i'm so glad the phrase "just some guy" exists because it's the most perfect, coherent, concise description of my existence, presentation, and life philosophy. i am literally just some guy.

[pseudowho]

hellooo Haitch, how are you ? Wanted to drop by and tell you that I enjoyed rereading some Nanami pieces from you now that you've been reblogging them with new headers Also wanted to ask you 2 things : 1. Tips for becoming a better writer ? As in how to improve flow, narration, description (without becoming overbearing), how to make characters more human and less unidimensional 2. Favourite books you've recently read and that you'd recommend ? i've been rereading old favourites like Lolita and the Catcher in the Rye and I desperately need something new :( Thanks a looot

Hiii! I'm having a hard week. It's my grandmother's funeral tomorrow, and I'm horribly afraid. I'm getting by, though. Thanks for asking 💕

TIPS FOR BECOMING A BETTER WRITER:

Read more, and read-- I cannot stress this enough-- challenging and variable material. Difficult books. Classics. Crappy chick-flicks. News articles. Thrillers, romances, murder mysteries, philosophy books, fantasy books. Research pieces. All of them add to the reference library in your mind than you can use to compare to. These all help with flow, narration, description, because they all give you styles of writing to imitate.

Onomatopoeia is your friend. Not just, in individual words (crash, plop, honk!) but in sentence structure. Someone who is angry but calm may sound staccato, crisp-- their words, their sentences, should snip accordingly. You're describing a slow-flowing river? Languid, lazy, loose and fluid rolling sounds bring it to mind.

Trust your reader. Show them, don't tell them. If your setting is a coffee shop, with bright yellow walls, sunflowers outside, and wonderful coffee that always wakes them up, at their favourite table by the window? Don't TELL them the coffee shop is that way. Show them through the way your character interacts with their environment. For example: "Kento's hands grazed those sunny petals, always reminding him, curiously, of a Van Gogh piece his grandmother displayed in his childhood. Stepping into the shop, blinded by the sunshine splashed on the walls and the earth-roast aroma, he spotted his regular table overlooking the street, still free; his barista seemed to have anticipated his arrival, sliding his drink to the front of the queue with a smile." See? The story is moved along AND the reader can picture the environment. Trust them to see the things you infer, without having to DIRECTLY SAY "the walls are yellow, there were sunflowers outside, and this was Kento's regular coffee shop". Capiche?

Some idiot once said to keep everything to the point. Whilst this is true, to some extent, your words choices should be luxurious, in that there is ALWAYS the perfect word for a mood, a smell, a taste, a touch, a feeling. Each word you choose being just so makes a story feel rich and flavoursome. The fact is, if you are struggling to describe something and you find yourself piling sentence after sentence of almost correct words...leave it. Come back when the correct word is there.

If you Selfship, SELFSHIP HARDER-- talk to these people in your head. Build scenarios with them. Savour their reactions and their responses, don't see them through rose-tinted lens either. Cross-reference them with people you know, people you HAVE KNOWN, find the perfect words to describe them to other people.

Empathise harder. Empathy is the core of understanding someone's character. Walk a mile in their shoes. It helps, trust me.

FAVOURITE STUFF I'VE READ LATELY:

I adore Natasha Pulley's "The Watchmaker of Filigree Street" and its sequel "The Lost Future of Pepperharrow". The Ben Aaronovitch "Rivers of London" series is also excellent. If you want a great atmospheric, beautifully perfect scene-setting ghost story, go for "The Haunting of Hill House" by Susan Hill. "Pachinko" (I can't recall the author and I'm away from my bookshelf) is another favourite of mine. "The Poppy War" is the first in a trilogy by R.F.Kuang, and although it was her debut novel and there are traces of immaturity there, she is blossoming and I genuinely threw the second book across the room at one point because the angst and plot-twists hit me so hard.

Phew.

I'm no professional writer, so these are just my thoughts.

Mr Haitch lectures in English Literature and Creative Writing, so the "trust your reader" is one that he offered.

Good luck, thanks for thinking I'm good enough to advise you on this.

-- Haitch xxx

[atamascolily]

Some Thoughts on Power Levels in Thunderbolt Fantasy

@jafndaegur got me thinking about this, so strap in because this is a long one!

tl;dr: Narrative casuality is linear for characters and the audience, and non-linear for writers and analysts; power levels in Thunderbolt Fantasy are a perfect illustration of this, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

Fight scenes are a major component of Thunderbolt Fantasy, but who wins and who loses is determined less by the absolute power levels of the respective parties, but by the needs of the narrative. There's a tendency to think of it as the other way around because that's how it initially appears to us as viewers--we see the outcome and think one caused the other. However, this is an illusion caused by the way we experience media. From a structural and compositional standpoint, the reverse is true--the story dictates the outcome, not the other way around.

For an example, let's look at Lian Qi's ill-fated fight against Sha Wu Sheng in Season 1. On the surface, it looks like Wu Sheng is considerably stronger, since he was able to kill Lian Qi in one blow. However, consider that Lian Qi's death is required for the story to work--if he survived and Wu Sheng didn't, it would be a different story entirely! This isn't what is usually meant by the phrase "doomed by the narrative," but in this case, it's an accurate description of the situation--there is no power level Lian Qi could possibly possess that would save him from Wu Sheng, since Wu Sheng's presence is required for the story as it stands to work.

Lian Qi's narrative role is to serve as a sacrificial lamb for Wu Sheng--that's his one (1) job and he's very good at it. We know that Wu Sheng is powerful, because he was able to effortlessly destroy a man of considerable skill and power whom Lin Xue Ya had just spoken highly of in the preceding scene. Saying that this means that Wu Sheng is thus a stronger fighter may be true, but it's not particularly interesting as an isolated factoid; what matters is what the fight reveals about the characters (that Wu Sheng is ruthless and determined) and how it advances and serves the story (gets him the Soul Echo Flute and a chance to reunite with Lin Xue Ya).

In other words, strength/power is correlated with victory, but correlation is not causation, even though we tend to interpret it as such because we experience narratives linearly, where cause comes before effect.

The other important thing to consider is that characters in Thunderbolt Fantasy are not simply discrete individuals--they also represent specific moral or philosophical positions. When they clash, the "strength" of the character has as much to do with the strength of this position as it does their physical prowess. This is true for most if not all of Gen Urobuchi's works, but it's more explicitly textual in Thunderbolt Fantasy, because in-universe, the character's "sword" is viewed as an extension of the self; it is primarily through conflict that this self becomes fully revealed.

Perhaps the best example of this is Lin Xue Ya's fight with Mie Tian Hai, in which the latter is fighting to preserve his philosophy that strength through the sword can only be attained a certain way. His physical defeat and the shattering of that worldview occur simultaneously; furthermore, his identity is so wrapped up in this particular point that he immediately kills himself in response.

[As an aside: Mie Tian Hai's suicide out of spite is foreshadowed by Can Xiong doing the same thing in the first episode when Shang Bu Huan defeats him. Can Xiong is not merely a loyal subordinate; he is enacting the teachings embodied by his master. Say whatever else you will about Mie Tian Hai, at least he isn't a hypocrite--he practices exactly what he preaches. There's a reason I refer to the Xuan Gui Zong as a "death cult"!!]

Taken together, these two factors--narrative purpose and philosophical position--provide a useful framework to make sense of conflict, and thus power levels, in Thunderbolt Fantasy. Here are a few examples:

-Shang Bu Huan vs. Lang Wu Yao in Bewitching Melody of the West -- Shang is older and more experienced than Lang in many respects, so it makes sense that he would win out here. However, what settles his victory isn't his physical skill, it's his moral clarity and sense of purpose; he knows who he is and that his cause is righteous.

Meanwhile, Lang is powerful, with martial arts from his unique upbringing combined with the magic of his innate heritage, but he is also confused and morally compromised through his allegiance to the corrupt Xi You imperial court, which ultimately gives Shang the upper hand. Note that this fight ends when Shang directly calls out Lang's ideas of good and evil, and Lang loses the will to continue; his doubts and uncertainty make it impossible for him to win. The climax of the movie is Lang coming to an emotional realization and gaining a corresponding power-up/magical boy transformation to go with it. Changing his philosophy increased his strength, not the other way around!

As Season 2 demonstrates, Lang's narrow-minded focus on good and evil have not changed by the end of Bewitching Melody, he's just altered the definitions so that Shang is now one of the good guys, and taken agency over his decisions instead of being a mindless tool for anyone else. This rigidness will continue to hold him back until he adopts a broader and more mature philosophy. This is especially important, because the Huo Shi Ming Huang fight in S3 demonstrates vividly that Lang's powers are fueled by his emotions; when unchanneled, he is capable of incredible destruction. (There's so much about that scene that is wonderful from an analytical standpoint, but my favorite part is Ling Ya muttering, "Oh, buddy, no" [paraphrase] right before all hell breaks loose; Ling Ya, as Lang's self-appointed mouthpiece, knows what's up.)

-Speaking of Huo Shi Ming Huang, the flashback in S3x06 is one of the few times we've ever seen Shang on the back foot. Not coincidentally, this fight is also characterized by Shang's hesitation and doubts as to the best course of action, which create a cascade of consequences leading to a Bad Ending of Mu Tian Ming's blindness and Shang's subsequent departure from Xi You. I've written elsewhere about how this outcome is also narratively determined in advance by the events of Season 1, which were written first even though they occur later in-universe, to the point where there's an entire mini-arc devoted to showing just how necessary this particular loss was; for better or worse, the entire story of Thunderbolt Fantasy rests on it.

-Xie Ying Luo vs. Shang Bu Huan in S2x09, "The Path of the Strong" - Up to this point, Xie Ying Luo's fighting style has been the opposite of the standard wuxia code of honor--she uses illusions and poisons and takes hostages rather than fight one-on-one. As Lin Xue Ya wryly points out in 2x04, this is the best way of dealing with a powerhouse like Shang Bu Huan (he even says it would be how he'd take Shang down!!!) but it's strongly implied that Xie Ying Luo relies on these methods because she doubts her own strength. [How much of this is due to misogyny is unclear, but there's no question it's a factor; Ba Wang Yu's character in S4 suggests she has taken the opposite approach to the same systemic forces with her emphasis on physical strength.] Xie's arc is characterized by her uncertainty and doubts, which send her on an increasing downward spiral (exposure to Di Kong's nihilism does not help!); even wielding Seven Blasphemous Deaths isn't enough to overcome it. However, after freeing herself from the demonic sword's thrall, Xie Ying Luo makes the unexpected decision to fight Shang one on one with her sword, something she has spent the entire show up to this point avoiding.

This makes no goddamn sense from a tactical perspective, but it's not about tactics or even victory. On a practical level, Xie Ying Luo is saving face--she knows she can't win, but if Shang defeats her and takes Seven Blasphemous Deaths, she can at least say that she didn't completely abandon her duties. She may have lost the fight, but she retains her honor, even if it means she can never return to Huo Shi Ming Huang's service.

Shang recognizes this, which is why he is so gracious to her after her defeat--he respects the courage it took to show up in the first place, and encourages her to redefine what it means to be strong in the first place. Again, we return to the idea that true strength isn't physical prowess, but moral clarity and certainty, which Shang possesses in abundance--and is also willing to pass along to others. Season 2 goes to a lot of effort to demonstrate Shang's mercy and compassion are strengths, not weaknesses, and this scene is further evidence of this.

Shang also believes that fate is not fixed and that people are capable of growing and changing if they choose to do so, which again gives him power over those like Sha Wu Sheng and Lou Zhen Jie, who believe themselves to be instruments of inevitability. (This is also what makes Shang Bu Huan endlessly surprising and therefore interesting and entertaining to Lin Xue Ya, but that's a whole 'nother story.) Unfortunately, Xie Ying Luo is tragically murdered by the very weapon she gave up (and by a man she trusted!!) and never gets to fully realize this, but she tries, damn it, even if it wasn't enough to save her in the end. This is one reason why Lang Wu Yao buries her even though they were enemies, because on some level he recognizes and honors that attempt, despite the fact he wasn't there to witness exactly what transpired.

I should also point out that while moral strength is a source of power, it's not the be-all, end-all--one reason why Lou Zhen Jie is so terrifying is because he no longer doubts. His logic and reasoning might be unsound, but he is so single-mindedly focused on his goal that he can plow through any obstacle single-handedly (pun intended). This is also what makes him such a great foil to Shang Bu Huan on multiple levels; Lou Zhen Jie is what would happen if Shang were evil/misguided/less ethical than he actually was. This is why Shang fighting alone can match Lou Zhen Jie but cannot win without something else to tip the scales.

Here's a fight that's interesting precisely because it didn't happen: Lin Xue Ya vs. Sha Wu Sheng. One reason why Lin Xue Ya refuses to fight Sha Wu Sheng at any point in Season 1 is that it would require Lin to reveal himself openly and intimately in a way he has no desire to do. Furthermore, it would also clash with the needs of the story, i.e., the big reveal of Lin's abilities in the final episode. Lin is so confident in his own abilities that he has no need to "prove" himself by fighting; just as his narrative foil Shang has no need to "prove" his own strength by picking stupid fights and does everything he can to avoid them. The primary difference between the two is that Lin spares his enemies so he can savor their suffering, while Shang spares his enemies so they can do better in the future.

This is why Shang repeatedly and emphatically insists that he and Lin have nothing in common--he sees the commonalities but the differences repel him even more because of it. Note that Shang indirectly critiques Lin's approach when he tells Xie Ying Luo that a truly strong person can spare someone's life and not have them come after him in revenge.... in essence, arguing that Lin's whole approach is fundamentally misguided. (This is also the second time he's done this in conversation with Xie Ying Luo; the first time was in 2x01 when he unfavorably compared her technique to Lin's. For someone who claims to want nothing to do with this guy, he sure thinks about him a lot!) Shang also has no intention of killing Lou Zhen Jie in the climax of S2; all he wants is to take Seven Blasphemous Deaths away from him.

[This leads to fascinating questions like "How will Shang deal with Huo Shi Ming Huang?" and "Can the guy who believes in the supremacy of fate and seeks to become Fate itself ever break free of it?" which I think we'll see in the final movie, so TBD.]

I'll also note that there is a tendency in modern storytelling to have power as the limiting factor for characters, whereas myths and epics give their characters free reign to do whatever they want, and as a story about archetypal characters with superhuman abilities, I think Thunderbolt Fantasy leans more towards the latter in many respects. Characters have exactly enough power to do what narratively needs to get done, no more and no less, so in that sense, it's a very efficient system.

I'll stop here because this is very long and rambling and I think I've demonstrated my point: for something so seemingly obvious and matter of fact, "strength" and "power" in Thunderbolt Fantasy, let alone comparing that of one character to another, is far more challenging than it appears on the surface, and contingent upon both the character's moral stance and the larger narrative of which they are a part. It's both deeper and far more interesting than "Character X is stronger than Character Y" (even if character X is stronger than character Y!).

[y-rhywbeth2]

Somehow I accidentally deleted this??

Paladin thoughts:

As usual 'core lore does not always match the lore of specific settings': Core 5e paladins are technically the crusader class rebranded as far as I can see, but paladins in the Realms are still the servants of deities. Which makes sense, the Realms has always been pretty damn consistent that divine magic (cleric, ranger, druid, paladin, other vaguer classes) always comes from a deity. Even if you think you're getting it from conviction, or abstract philosophy, or a deity who has no power in Realmspace, or whatever, it's still supposed to be a Torilian deity humouring you and handing you power without you realising it, which they can take away at a whim/when you're no longer useful. Arcane power of course, requires the Weave, so Mystra. You got it from some other power? Should still need the Weave to function on Toril. Shadow Weave? Shar. There's not really a whole lot of ways out of this. And the description in the SCAG still has them as virtuous LG types by design intent. (Despite that virtuous description, considering crusaders have also existed in the Realms, having the likes of an oath of conquest Banite paladin still makes perfect sense to me.) I mean, BG3 did have deity options, not sure why they were removed.

Crusaders were the warrior priests. Due to the zeal they embodied you could be any alignment except the wishy-washy True Neutral, Neutral Evil or Neutral Good: Embrace a principle and grip it in white-knuckled hands held steady with black and white worldviews, or get out. As with all priests of the Realms, they had to have a deity.

'Oathbreaker' is basically the 5e term for a Blackguard, the evil knight counterpart to the shiny champion of good that is the paladin, serving the forces of evil in making the universe worse. Rather than deities of good (and some neutrals), blackguards get their power from devils and demons (although I'm sure evil deities serve just as well). You didn't have to be a fallen paladin to be a blackguard, but you did get shiny extra powers if you had paladin levels.

Breaking your oath ('falling') does not automatically make you a blackguard/oathbreaker, it just strips you of the power you'd been given. Much like a cleric, you just became a regular fighter (+whatever other classes you have). Switching to blackguard/oathbreaker requires you to be a douchebag and for a new evil patron to adopt you (which could happen via you seeking them out, or, theoretically, them doing it of their own free will), or else you're just a fighter or something now.

'An Oathbreaker is a paladin who breaks his or her sacred oaths to pursue some dark ambition or serve an evil power. Whatever light burned in the paladin's heart has been extinguished. Only darkness remains. 'A paladin must be evil and at least 3rd level to become an Oathbreaker.'- Dungeon Master's Guide

So, Minthara, who do we think is lending you those oathbreaker abilities? ...It's probably still Lolth, isn't it? Who knows about anyone else... Have I finally found my secret Cyricist option?

Anyway, much like Withers, most other deities, devils and, to a degree, Elminster, probably don't trust this guy:

Oathbreaker Knight: I have been waiting for you. I felt the moment of your liberation - the shedding of your bond. You called to me. I am here to show you the way. [...] I was the first. The first to swear. The first to fall. When another's oath is broken, I stand witness. I hear their sorrow. I see their jubilation. I guide their hand.

[curlish]

Hi, I'm Curlish and this is my blog

Video Clips about Bart Curlish

by @docdust

Bart Curlish and Holistic Philosophy

Better come with me than die

Bart Curlish - Leaf in the Stream of Creation

The Strange Mating Behaviour of Demons and Assassins

Wanna come with me and be best friends?

By others:

Unstoppable - A Tribute to Bart by Rebel Sun (Youtube)

Fiona Dourif on Bart Curlish

"Bart was originally described as a force of nature [...] It was a unique voice and one of the other descriptions was a “homicidal dirt muppet.”

I think that Bart is the most vulnerable character that I’ve ever played. I really love her. I find her lonely and kind of sincere.

Whole interview

Dubbed the “delete key of the universe,”  Bart is often predatory and always purposeful. But underneath all that is what many would describe as a vulnerable and almost childlike character who longs for all the same things us non-assassins do.

Dourif: "I played with the character with my own voice for a few days and it didn’t work. And so, I guess like [laughs] a voice I have in my repertoire which I never even knew is like this weird Jersey thing [laughs]. I don’t even know what or where that’s from, but I started doing that a little bit, and then it got a little gravelly, and then it became this like dirty, kind of masculine thing which I felt like worked and so I stuck with it. [...]

I was thinking about what it is to be a woman and my life and all that, and then I was thinking about how much, you know, being like a pretty girl in a feminine setting—how much I have to think about that being an actress because you really do. I mean, when you audition, it’s like, ‘Cool, I need 50 minutes to make my hair look perfect so that some producer thinks I’m fuckable enough to be in this role’ because that truly does really matter. I mean, it’s not the majority of it at all, but it really is a huge part of it.

And Bart, it is the opposite. When I got cast as Bart, I was like, ‘Well, cool. At least I can let myself go.’ [laughs] You know? It’s like, I couldn’t shave any of my body hair or anything; I let my eyebrows grow in and they put dreadlocks and dirt and orange teeth, and I just like became this—not like a strong woman; it wasn’t even that bullshit stereotype. It was a person; even though people would argue that Bart is the delete key of the universe and not a person, I don’t think of her like that. She’s like a vulnerable person who also happens to be the delete key of the universe. But yeah, man, it was like really nice. Sexuality never came into it. And i think men get to do that all the time, and I’ve never ever been cast—I’ve never even read anything that had that, you know? [...]

’ll walk into a biker gang and there’ll be machetes and knives and bullets flying at me, and I’ve never been scared of that. But, you know, rejection is something that I think hurts and this was me being paired with somebody by the universe. He was supposed to be there and, you know, maybe he won’t like me and that hurts. If anybody’s ever been ostracized in middle school, which I have, it was like, you know, it’s really painful. Really is. [...]

I really love that Bart is unsexualized, but if we took an unsexualized woman and then made her [laughs] like experiment with sexuality, I’d be interested in that. It would be so funny. [...] I had to answer the question for myself if I’ve ever had sex and I’m not going to tell you the answer. [laughs] But I was really curious. I was like, ‘Has Bart ever gotten laid?’ And I know what it is. I know the answer. [laughs]

Whole interview

[tigreblvnc]

BLUE LOCK MATCHUP EXCHANGE — @reapkusho

Your match is...

— Bachira Meguru

✦ You were really a tough one.

✦ And when I say that, it means the obvious match wasn't immediately apparent because I wondered whether it would be better to pair you with someone similar to you or different.

✦ When you take the Harry Potter test, are you the type to get a different result every time? Hahaha

✦ My brain went through all the calm, cautious, and thoughtful characters because I thought that someone with a strong temperament like yours might find an interesting balance with an opposite.

✦ ... But strangely, even after going through the entire Blue Lock roster, I wasn't convinced.

✦ So I decided to go for someone expressive, with their mysteries and differences.

✦ Bachira being an excellent candidate for this description.

✦ I find that he is a well-balanced mix of an extroverted character with many unsuspected and unpredictable aspects.

✦ In his matches, he is often the Joker card that completely turns the game around.

✦ He shows great creativity and a free spirit that, I'm sure, would work wonders with you.

✦ Among all the Blue Lock characters, I think he would be one of the best suited to talk philosophy with you.

✦ I even believe he would talk to you about his Monster because he would know that you understand exactly what he means. In my eyes, Bachira only talks about his Monster to people who, he knows, live and feel the same thing as him.

✦ Expect heated debates. He always has plenty of wacky ideas, and his open-mindedness never blocks a conversation. You never get bored with Bachira.

✦ Moreover, one of the things he loves most in the world is receiving gifts! Anything! And he collects all the little trinkets you give him, the bags and scarves you crochet for him. They are his treasures, and he proudly shows them off to others.

✦ Your direct and sometimes arrogant side would amuse him more than scare him away. I don't see Bachira as someone who enjoys being with a quiet person who doesn't communicate or does things behind people's backs. He prefers confrontational and ambitious people.

✦ That said, we also know he's not into fights and tends to want to ease tensions. He would know how to react when a discussion gets a bit too heated, in the wrong way.

✦ Unless it's for his football goals, I don't see Bachira as disloyal or bad at all; quite the contrary. He has an explosive and light-hearted innocence that defuses tensions. I'm convinced that at your first meeting, he was the one who approached you.

✦ With his family having an artistic streak, I think you'd enjoy talking to his mother about art. She would love to listen to you talk about what you write, and that would inevitably pique Bachira's interest. Normally, I don't see him particularly enjoying staying in one place doing nothing for a while, but he would want to understand your point of view and enter your world. I think it would inspire him in his football techniques.

✦ Physical contact is entirely part of his love language.

✦ In fact, I think he never resists a hug; people often have to pry him off you.

✦ Listen, I know you hate the heat... But summer is Bachira's favorite season... So there's no question of staying indoors; it's time for hours spent outside! I like to think that amusement parks, festival outings, and concerts are things that attract him.

✦ In reality, any new and stimulating activity with you is enough to excite him.

✦ I imagine him wanting to learn to play a bit of piano with you.

✦ Spam of texts at any hour of the day, ☆★☆ emoji man ☆★☆

✦ When you're angry, he always buys you the little thing that calms you down immediately. Your favorite meal or a trinket that caught your eye. Giving gifts at the perfect moment is what he does best.

A word about your match: At first, I thought of Raichi, for his very direct, arrogant, yapping side... Like you. But I changed my mind, thinking that fire and fire wouldn't make a good result. Then there was Rin... The desire to match you with him was very strong because I thought your analytical side, which likes to understand so-called special people, could have led to something very interesting with Rin, who buries everything and hides his wounds. But knowing his way of being with others, very cold and arrogant, it wouldn't have been conducive to a good understanding from the start.

© TIGREBLVNC 2024 | INTERESTED IN A MATCHUP EXCHANGE? CHECK THIS.

[splashclan-clangen]

Gannetstar

more info below, potential spoiler warning! I use these character bios as a way to keep track of my SplashClan game which means that all the information is up to date with the current in-game events, not where I left off with the youtube series

Gannet was a rogue who was taken in and raised by an older cat named Mint after the death of her mother. They both decided to join the clans and Gannettalon was later chosen to become the leader of SplashClan, thanks to Mintshade’s guidance and teachings of self-preservation above all else. Leadership proved to be a challenging task for Gannetstar which led them into feeling lost.

To prove themselves, she became involved with a long-lasting conflict with HazeClan. The loss of her children, strained relationships with their clanmates, and pursuit of power took a toll on not just Gannetstar’s leadership, but their mind. Gannetstar’s time as leader was marked by war, the deaths of her family, the mistreatment of their own apprentices, and their own transformation into a ruthless and manipulative leader. Gannetstar ultimately died and joined the dark forest to scheme against the clans.

Names: Gannetstar (leader name), Gannettalon (warrior name), Gannet (birth name)

Current Affiliation: The Dark Forest, formerly belonging to SplashClan

Past Affiliation: None, former rogue

Gender: Demigirl (she/they)

Sexuality: Pansexual

Age: 172 months at death (14 years; born 79 months before SplashClan's founding)

Nine Lives: Whorlnip (protection), Jaggedpath (clear judgement), Shrewkit (adventure), Snaptangle (sympathy), Leafpaw (mentoring), Unnamed elder (persitence), Speckletoe (unity), Vixenswoop (devotion), Mintshade (leadership through the darkest times)

Deputies: Brackenshade (months 0-91; retired), Lightspots (months 91-93; succeeded as leader)

Cause of Death(s):

Life One - died from a broken bone + various injuries recieved from a dog attack (month 84)

Life Two - bitten by a venomous snake (month 92)

Remaining Lives - succumbed to old age (month 93)

Description-

brown ticked tabby-and-white cat with long fur and eyes of sunlit ice; has a scarred tail from when Lightspots challenged her and a bite wound from a fight with a gray fox

Traits: Bloodthirsty and a good speaker (leader)

Role: Leader (formerly a warrior)

Relationships

Adoptive Mother and Mentor: Mintshade

Former Mates: Striker and Snapfern (broken up with both; became mates with Snapfern in month 47)

Kits: Tornrun, Icywhisker, and Jellyfishspeckle (with Striker; born in month 13) + Patchouliprickle (with Snapfern; born in month 67)

Apprentices: Sagepeak (months 0-6), Quietpaw (months 65-68), and Patchouliprickle (months 73-78)

Romantic Feelings: Snapfern and Lightstar

Platonic Love: Snapfern, Lightgale, Thunderisle, Brackenshade, Lightstar, Tornrun, Jellyfishspeckle

Admiration: Lightgale

Security: Snapfern, Brackenshade

Reliance: Brackenshade

Detailed Biography

Gannet was born as a rogue but doesn’t remember much from her early life, though they’re unsure if that’s because of how young she was of if she had unknowingly blocked the traumatic memories out. When Gannet was only a few months old, her mother died, leaving her all alone. She nearly died of starvation before she was found and rescued by an older rogue named Mint. Mint took her in and from then on raised them as if she was her own kit. Throughout Gannet’s life, Mint trained them to survive just as she had under the philosophy that “no other cats matter, protect yourself and only yourself.” 

Years later, after Gannet had already grown up, the two continued to live together for protection. Though they were better off together, things still weren’t perfect and winters were always harsh. During one winter they discovered the clan cats and decided to stick around for protection and easier food. As time passed they relalized that there was a clear leader for each of the four clans except for one, SplashClan. Mint and Gannet decided to step up, deciding to permanently join the clans as Mintshade and Gannettalon in hopes that they could take leadership of SplashClan themselves. Eventually, Mintshade’s age got the better of her and she stepped down to become an elder, advising Gannettalon from the side in order to have the best chance to become leader.

Eventually, the BloodClan-affiliated rogues were chased out and with Rootmask’s dying words he chose the new leaders of the four clans; Tawnystar of DeadClan, Curlstar of HeatherClan, Amberstar of HazeClan, and Gannetstar of SplashClan. Gannetstar went on to receive her nine lives, one of which being from Mintshade herself for “leadership through the darkest times.” They later elected Brackenshade as their deputy as he was a young but fierce and abrasive cat who would grant her the approval of her clanmates. He was also picked with a darker motive in mind, at the time he was the youngest warrior in the clan and clearly respected Gannetstar's judgement and authority as leader, meaning he wouldn't oppose her. Desperate for more approval from their clanmates, Gannetstar gave themselves an apprentice so she could appear as a responsible, rule-following leader. Sagepaw was the apprentice she chose but they didn’t do much work in training him aside from what was required of her due to her lack of care and how overwhelmed they were as leader initially. 

Gannetstar had only gotten where she was because of Mintshade’s guidance and without her, they felt as though they had no idea what they were doing. Many times they tried to reach out to StarClan to talk to Mintshade but she was cut off from StarClan due to them disaproving of her as leader. Gannetstar questioned her ability to lead the clan and needed something to prove her worth not only to her clanmates, but to herself. This eventually came in the long-running conflict between SplashClan and HazeClan. It started out small, as nothing more than a prey and border dispute but Amberstar’s anger towards the situation frustrated Gannetstar. She couldn’t understand the HazeClan leader’s anger and she felt the urge to take the situation into their own paws, killing Amberstar herself. Of course, this never ended up happening as she was too desperate to prove herself and gain the approval of her clan.

Thunderisle and her own apprentice, Sagepeak were made warriors however later this same month he died while out on patrol and ultimately Gannetstar never realized how much he wanted her to notice him. It was during this time when they met Striker, a rogue who had belonged to one of the BloodClan-affiliated rogue groups that had been occupying the clan territories before. She fell in love with Striker and the two began to secretly meet at SplashClan’s border. As time passed between them however, Gannetstar grew continuously bored of Striker as she found something more entertaining. In their dreams, Gannetstar began to visit the dark forest and would continue to train there throughout her life. 

In the end, Gannetstar found out they were expecting kits and cut off her relationship with Striker, abandoning him and telling him to never come back. Though she was excited to have kits, they didn’t like the idea of having to care for them for very long, hoping she could apprentice them at four months instead of six. Thankfully though, Brackenshade told her not to do that. Eventually, Gannetstar’s three kits were born, Tornkit, Icykit, and Jellyfishkit. She loved her kits but it was clear from the beginning that they were going to pick favorites. She spent more time with Jellyfishkit than the others and this did not go unnoticed by Tornkit and Icykit. 

Eventually, Gannetstar’s kits are apprenticed and she was able to leave the nursery but they were back to feeling terrible about leadership. She had been trained her entire life to only care about herself, to only put effort into making sure that she survives, and now she was alone in leading an entire clan of cats. She made her kits warriors way earlier than she should have and only two months later she learned terrible news. One day, her daughter, Jellyfishspeckle went on patrol but didn’t return. Jellyfishspeckle had been taken away by twolegs. Gannetstar, after having already been under a lot of stress, broke down as a result of their daughter being taken away. They encouraged fights on border patrols and even began picking fights with cats from her own clan. Lightspots at one point stepped up to confront her about this and she took to physically punishing him with the help of Snapfern, a cat who’s allegiance to not only SplashClan, but herself, she was questioning. The three cats were left injured by the fight but in the end Gannetstar felt as though they could trust Snapfern more. 

Gannetstar began to feel as if they were going crazy and she began to feel numb with pain, both from the loss of Jellyfishspeckle and her tail injury. Over the next few months she failed to recover, struggling to fight off the infection in their wound and this only worstened when her other daughter, Icywhisker, died as well. Though she recovered from her injury shortly afterward, she could harldy react to her daughter’s death due to her numbness. Months later, Gannetstar even repeated what she had done to Lightspots to Clovefreckle after he similarly spoke out against them, though thankfully it wasn’t as harsh. Gannetstar’s trust in their clanmates began to dwindle and she soon sought out Snapfern to spy on the cats of SplashClan for her. Eventually, her trust in Snapfern became so great that she confessed to Snapfern about their own romantic feelings towards her. Snapfern agreed, sharing Gannetstar’s feelings and the two became mates. 

Over the next few months, things between SplashClan and HazeClan became worse and worse and Gannetstar even began to ask the other clans to form an alliance but in the end, neither HeatherClan or DeadClan were willing to help. As tensions rose things only became worse for Gannetstar with the death of her son, Tornrun. Though she didn’t play favorites with Tornrun, preferring Jellyfishspeckle, Tornrun had been the only one of her kits that still remained in SplashClan. It was only a few months after this when finally, Jellyfishspeckle returned to SplashClan. Though Gannetstar should’ve been happy, they weren’t the same cat they were when Jellyfishspeckle had been taken away and apart of them began to blame their daughter for abandoning their clan in a time of need and felt as though she was cursed, somehow causing the deaths of Icywhisker and Tornrun just as she left the clan and returned. The pain of Tornrun’s death and Jellyfishspeckle’s return finally caused Gannetstar to break and officially declare war on HazeClan. The war lasted seven months and four cats died however SplashClan was the clear loser of the war. Ever since Gannetstar had been leader, they had been searching for the perfect opportunity to prove her worth as leader and in the end they failed, they failed terribly. 

During the war, Gannetstar decided to distract themselves by taking on their second apprentice, choosing the kit, Quietpaw for that position. Gannetstar was a bit more involved with Quietpaw’s training than she was with Sagepeak's since this time she had willingly taken him as an apprentice, but things ended up just as badly. Under Gannetstar’s training, Quietpaw was trained to exhaustion every single day and was hardly recognizable as his former self not long after becoming an apprentice. Similarly to Sagepeak, Quietpaw wanted to make Gannetstar proud of him and he would do anything to make that happen. At one point after the war had ended, a bunch of HazeClan apprentices began to bully Quietpaw from across the border. She encouraged Quietpaw to fight back, even if he was clearly outnumbered. Quietpaw made it out of this encounter, but was mildly hurt and Gannetstar praised him for this. Quietpaw’s apprenticeship came to a sudden end in leafbare. He was so painfully hungry from there being a lack of prey that he attemted to calm his hunger by eating some red berries he found, these ended up being death berries. Though Quietpaw died, Gannetstar didn’t seem to care much. 

Before Quietpaw had died, her and Snapfern’s son, Patchoulitkit was born. When Gannetstar wasn’t too busy training Quietpaw, they would spend time with Snapfern as she was the only one who they felt could bring them comfort. As a result, Patchoulikit didn’t get to spend a lot of time with his parents and began to look up to and chase after Gannetstar for their attention. Gannetstar decided to mentor their son herself. Though the clan spoke out against this, Gannetstar didn’t care. They spent the most time and care training Patchoulipaw compared to Sagepeak and Quietpaw, influencing him to use violence over words and to make impulsive decisions. Just like she did with her previous kits, she made him a warrior early, granting him the name Patchouliprickle. He took after Gannetstar’s bloodthirsty nature but died too quick to acomplish anything. 

Patchouliprickle, Snapfern, and many other SplashClan cats disappeared into the night and wound up in StarClan, their cause of death unknown. Gannetstar was left devistated and broken by their loss. Only three months after this, Gannetstar lost her very first life to an injury they had recieved months prior from a dog attack. Shortly after, she decided to move on from Snapfern but in the end they never took another mate. Throughout the rest of their life, Gannetstar seemed to become more and more lost in their own mind and their previously shown agitation and aggression towards others, even in their own clan, grew and grew. She later lost her second life to a venomous snake bite before slowly beginning to lose her remaining seven lives to old age throughout the 93rd month of SplashClan’s existence. As they lay dying, Gannetstar laughed in her deputy, Lightspot’s face and told him-

“Hah! I’m glad you of all cats are becoming the next leader. There isn’t another fool alive who i’d be more willing to see cursed with the role of leader.”

Gannetstar, having already entered the Dark Forest in their life, was brought there in death and realized that she would’ve been able to influence the cats below. She began to scheme and soon figured out her plan. If they turned the young cats against the clans, she could turn them to her side, destroying SplashClan in the process and proving that all along the idea of ‘clans’ were cursed to fail. Ever since their death, they’ve reached out to many of SplashClan’s younger cats and brought them to train in the Dark Forest, some even becoming loyal to her already.

Fun Facts

Gannetflight was named after Gannetstar by her mother, Emberfreckle who's one of the most involved and loyal dark forest trainees.

Gannetstar's original in-game warrior name was Gannethorse but this was changed to Gannettalon later on since it made more sense and wasn't as goofy

Their favorite food is frog but they also liked rabbit and shrews

Their character song is Ain’t It Fun by Paramore

Gannetstar’s voice claim is Lady Dimitrescu from Resident Evil: Village (voiced by Maggie Robertson)

Dark Forest Events

The first cat Gannetstar influenced to begin training in the dark forest as Sparkstep. They contacted him in his dream only a month after she had died.

Gannetstar feels regret for some of their actions, though it's unclear which ones

Gannetstar considered walking in Old Deuteronomyplume's dreams but decided against it, realizing they wouldn't have accepted her proposal to train

From the dark forest, Gannetstar never contacted Lightstar but always kept an eye on him, smiling slyly how much he likely hated being leader at such an old age and how it was herself who put him there

They considered bringing Brackenshade's son, Brightsnap into the dark forest but decided against it, knowing Brackenshade had likely taught him too many negative things about Gannetstar to want to accept

Gannetstar indirectly killed Brightsnap, Rippletuft, Littlebat, and Sardinefuzz. She had instructed some of the HeatherClan dark forest trainnes to attack them on patrol in order to specifically kill Sardinefuzz, the current deputy of SplashClan so Emberfreckle, a prominent dark forest trainee could potentially be chosen as his replacement.

Gannetstar feels distain and malice towards Hailtorrent, a high ranking dark forest trainee from SplashClan becuase they believes that he has the capability to turn against her and completely destroy her plans

Throughout Snailshell's apprenticeship, Gannetstar continued to whisper in his ear as they couldn't fully walk in his dreams due to his connection to StarClan. In the end thankfully, he was able to block Gannetstar out.

Mudember, Emberfreckle's son was one of the cats Gannetstar had an eye on birth but in the end it's likely she was never able to contact him due to his stronger than average connection to StarClan.

Gannetstar had their eyes on Brackenshade's son, Laurelstep from kithood but it's unclear if he was ever reached out to

[jinkookspencil]

unlucky in love

Your best friend Namjoon proposes a surprising, prolonged backup plan for the decades to come……

“Would….Would it be so bad?” 

“You and me. You and me stuck with each other.”

tags/description: ~6k words / namjoon x (f) reader / angst / fluff / friends to lovers(?) / pining / no smut but alludes to sex possibly happening at one point / no triggers or warnings, except swearing / happy ending / slow burn within their timelines since this takes years…. / jane austen references, title is a reference to p&p but fair warning i might just change it to 'unlucky' in the future / three ‘chapters’ / age of namjoon in each chapter: 1: ~27, 2:~32, 3: ~36 / chapters are separated by little ✣ ’s / feedback always welcome!

author’s note: every time i say I’ll upload my jin fics another fic pops into and out of my head - this namjoon fic came out of nowhere and i just thought to upload it to celebrate the release of indigo. the jin ones are coming very soon though. </3 proud of this though, besides the jin wip series, this is my first longer work!

Namjoon was a catch. An ideal man. The perfect man, really. It wasn’t hard for you, one of his best friends, to see why practically every woman on the planet fell for him. It wasn’t just the people who knew him, either. You could see it in the barista’s eyes when you grabbed coffee together. You heard your friends’ countless gushes over him, even the ones that were taken. And you couldn’t blame them…. He was smart, a little goofy, respectful, manly, sometimes endearing, and he was pretty easy on the eyes too. Every woman’s dream. Practically a Jane Austen character come to life. 

You could see it, understand it….you just never…. felt it. Namjoon was a close friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

You always had to dismiss people who thought otherwise or thought that that’s how you knew each other. Work had made your paths cross a few years ago when you were both in your early twenties and taking your first steps into the world of art. When he walked into your job at the film institute one morning, he had wanted to find out more about the artistry of film, the one realm of art he didn’t explore as thoroughly as paintings, sculptures, and literature, which you had always thought of studying as well. A quick conversation about film turned into an hour-long discussion on art and passion; the rest was history. Whenever Namjoon came back to learn about film, you took the opportunity to ask him about literature and art, whenever he brought it up, and before you knew it a friendship formed. He was the only one that got you, on your passions, art, and, as you’d later find out, in life. 

Movie nights at his place and your place were common, as were trips to libraries and bookstores to pick out different reads, which you’d begin at coffee shops over cronuts and pies, but you enjoyed your regular late-night therapy sessions just as much, talking about life and its complexities, sharing ideas and personal philosophies…  He was the only one that ever cared about that sort of thing…. And even when it got to discussions on love, everything remained respectful - especially when the other was in a relationship. Boyfriends came and went, with only one ever getting “worried” about Namjoon, whose girlfriends came and went over the years as well. 

You understood art, you understood each other, you just never understood love. 

It was the main topic of conversation on your cold, December walk, trying to figure it out as you always did.  

“Why are we just so unlucky?” you complained. “Do you think there’s something wrong with us? Are we attracting these weirdos?”

He giggles. “I wouldn’t say that. We’re just ourselves, aren’t we? And don’t be mean. People just play a role and live fake lives because they don’t know any better. What did that guy tell you once? Didn’t he say that he was an author but it turns out he paid someone to write some fake short story about a cloud or some shit? Didn’t they even write the good morning texts he sent you?”

“Oh god, don’t remind me of that lazy ass, Joon,” you shake your head. “As if you didn’t date that girl who said she was an art curator but couldn’t pronounce Monet.”

“Ay,” he sighs. “I just wish people were honest to themselves, you know. So what, if you can’t pronounce Monet and didn’t like art? That girl was fine, she was just a compulsive liar. I can’t have that.”

“Sincerity is dying, Kim Namjoon. It lives in you and me only. And in, let’s hope, a lovely man out there who proves me wrong. And in someone for you, too.”

“Let’s hope. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck with each other.”

“Oof, can’t have that,” you laugh, but a couple of steps later you notice that Namjoon had stopped walking, the bite of the hotteok he had taken from the dessert in your hands lingering in his mouth for a moment too long before he swallowed it. 

Eyes squinted in a far off-gaze, with his head tiled, you knew Namjoon was in thought. As always, you stopped and stared at him until he came back to Earth, not to interrupt his train of thought.

“Would….Would it be so bad?” he finally speaks. 

“Would what be so bad?”

“You and me. You and me stuck with each other.”

W- all of a sudden?! 

“Namjoon?!”

“Listen, I know we’re friends. Just friends, right? For all these years? And even right now… like sorry, Y/N, but I don’t know if I feel so attracted to you… I think I know too much and we’re too alike but that’s not the point. Just… Would it be so bad?” he asks, but he goes on. “I guess you’re right, we’ve both just been so…. unlucky. I like to think there’s someone out there for me and for you but… I can’t deny that I’m losing hope, at least for myself. You are, too, you just admitted it. The new year is starting soon and I've been thinking about what I want in life... And… I want a wife. I want kids. And..”

“Namjoon, what the fuck are you saying?!,” you yell in the middle of the snowy park. “Kids?!”

“Not now!” he explains. “Of course not now. But… look they always say ‘marry your best friend’, right? Well, you’re my only ‘best friend’ that’s a girl. It’s not like I can ask Yoongi to marry me.”

You feel your head spin at the words spewing out of Namjoon’s mouth. 

“Kim Namjoon! A wife, marriage, kids, what the fuck are you saying?”

He takes a deep breath and grabs your elbow, leading you to sit on a nearby park bench. 

“Breathe, Y/N.  I thought this through and we can scrap the idea and pretend like I never said anything, but just hear me out for a moment, with a calm mind.”

Looking at Namjoon, still confused, you take a couple of deep breaths before you nod at him to continue talking. 

“I’m not saying this for right now. What I’m saying is… in years, if we’re still friends, if we’re still single, if we’re still unlucky in love, if we still get each other…. If, and if, and if…. Why don’t we… why don’t we give this a shot? Just as a backup? We can either try a relationship - but that might be too weird because you know,” he tilts his head, “As I said, I think you’re not… and I am not… at least right now, anyway… Anyway! We can do that or we can just… get married regardless. Maybe have kids some way or the other. I know you want that in life but not right now, and I feel the same. And who knows? Our ‘wants’ can easily change…. But if….  It’ll be nice to share my life with my best friend.”

You stare at Namjoon, taking in his… proposal.  “When?”

“When should we do this?” he assumes is your question, staring up at the sky while he figures out an answer. “When I’m around 35, 36, 37? That seems good for both of us. That gives us plenty of time to find someone else, if that happens and…”

“No, I mean… when did you come up with this idea?”, you ask. 

“Oh, just right now when we were walking over there,” he says, pointing to the place he froze. 

“And you’re so ready to make this offer?!”

“You’re my best friend!” he exclaims. “Wasn’t this always a safe space for us to just say what’s on our minds?”

His tone couldn’t be more serious, even with the gentle expression on his face. 

“Look, it’s just an idea. It’s just a backup. And hey if in the future you or I feel like this conversation was a bad idea we can forget it ever happened. Wouldn’t it be nice to spend our nights watching films everyone thinks is too pretentious, talking about life, then in the mornings visiting libraries and galleries, with hotteoks and coffee? And not have to worry about lovers who never gave a shit about all of that? It’s about more than that but…,” he pauses. “We can still do it as friends, but…. just in case we don’t find that with someone else….”

You stare at Namjoon. He was your best friend. He understood you more than any lover, or any friend, ever had. Would it be so bad? To marry your best friend?

“And what about the issue of attraction, Joon? We both think that’s important. I hate to break it to you, bestie, but I’m not attracted to you, either.”

“That’ll resolve itself,” he laughs. “We’ll probably be too old to care. Or.. we’ll see…. There are so many ‘if’s’ for this to happen and I don’t know what future Namjoon will think. It’s just an offer.”

You had plenty of time. Sure, you’d find someone…. Sure, he would too - if given the chance, hundreds of girls would line up just for the chance to date him. OF course, you’ll both find other people…. But for now…. Would it hurt to not completely disregard your best friend? 

“I’m living every girl’s dream… getting proposed to under conditions, with the guy telling her she’s unattractive and saying he’ll be stuck with me.”

“Sorry, just think of yourself as a modern-day Elizabeth Bennett,” he smiles. 

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself by insinuating that you’re a Darcy,” you say, making him laugh. 

“So… when you’re 35?” you ask after a moment of silence, looking at Namjoon through your eyelashes, picking at the paper packaging of your shared dessert in your hands, his twiddling with the strings on his hoodie.

“Around?”, he answers. 

You nod, smiling at your best friend. 

“Okay. That gives me plenty of time to find an actual Mr. Darcy.” 

“I’m sure he’ll bewitch you, you idiot….”

✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ 

“Finally, it’s been too long.”

Those are the words you’d greeted Namjoon with the moment you spotted him waiting for you outside the cafe. It had been too long. Over the years, you kept in touch as best as you could, but with hectic work schedules and different careers, it was hard to see each other as often as you used to in your twenties. 

“It has,” he smiles, wrapping an arm around you in a hug. “What has it been like 5, 6 months? How’ve you been?”

You catch up for the next hour over coffee and pastries, talking about life, the world, and art, as you always had, as if you’d just seen each other the other day. But, as the sun began to set and the cafe got too busy to relax in, you were reminded that your long-anticipated hangout day was slowly coming to an end. 

“I don’t know if it’s our age or if that croissant ruined it, but how is this iced latte so sweet?” he wonders, taking a sip of the extra coffee he ordered to go as you watched the summer sky change colors in the park. 

“Let’s switch,” you offer, handing Namjoon your iced americano. “You never liked coconut milk, anyway, why would you order it with your coffee? Dairy is still bad for you, huh?”

“Yep. I can’t power through the intolerance anymore,” he laughs. “Could it be possible that my girlfriend’s dairy intolerance made me even more intolerant?”

“The model, right?” you ask.

“Yep. She’s…alright. And hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you…. how’s that guy you’ve been seeing? How long has it been now? A year?”

“A year and a half,” you nod. “That’s actually the reason I’ve been rushing to see you…

I…uh.. I’m engaged.”

Namjoon’s pace slows. “Oh.”

Oh?

“Uhm, congratulations,” he says sternly.

“Thanks….” you murmur, side-eyeing Namjoon who just stares at his feet as you both continue to walk.

“Do you like him?”

“….Of course, I like him, Namjoon. Why else would I accept? Why else would I date him for a year and a half of my life?”, you snap.

But Namjoon remains quiet, merely nodding in the silence. 

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” you say.

“I would be…. If you were happy.”

“I am happy,” you say, stopping him and standing your ground.

“Then where the fuck is your ring?”

You quickly hide your hands in your pockets in a feeble attempt at concealing the truth he just spat out. He had given you a ring. A diamond ring with a gold band. One he said reminded him of you. Even though you told him you hated diamonds, and only wore silver. It was the thought that counts, right? The gift…. The proposal. It didn’t matter that he didn’t bother getting one that fit either, it was too big and too…. not you. As he said, you should be grateful that he finally popped the question…..

“It was too big,” you say meekly, and Namjoon scoffs.

“Even so, why didn’t he get it resized? Why isn’t it on a chain around your neck? Is it fucking gold?!”

“I…”

“To this day… even if we don’t see each other as often, I’d still consider you my best friend,” he interrupts you softly. “I know you more than anyone, Y/N. If this is the same guy you talked to me about a year ago….,” he sighs. “I know the movies you find romantic, the books and characters you fawn over, the tropes you like, the art that affected you… and I know he isn’t.. he wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do all the things you wanted, all the things you deserved, Y/N. What happened to that hope you always had, even whenever we called ourselves unlucky? Where is my best friend? The Y/N I knew, who looked for a Darcy or a Knightley or whatever the fuck? That Y/N? She wouldn’t settle for someone like that.”

“I woke up. I was delusional. I realized that I don’t live in a fucking Jane Austen novel, Namjoon. There’s no one else, okay?”

He shakes his head. It stings more than anything, seeing the disappointment and…. hurt…. in his eyes.  “Your reason for marrying a guy is ‘there’s no one else’? Y/N….” 

“Don’t bring up that stupid ass deal now, Namjoon.”

“Did I?!”, he asks, and it’s the first time you sense anger in his voice. You rarely could… even over the years. 

“Fuck the deal. Look at the guy you’re marrying,” he spits the words out, the last word escaping like venom, before rubbing the space between his brows. “How many times did you come to me because he never got you, huh? Because he never made any effort to do so? 

I just want to see you happy, Y/N.”

“Well, open your eyes, Namjoon because that’s what you’ll see.”

But you walk away the moment he looks at you, knowing you’d be unable to hide another lie, nor the tears forming in your eyes. 

He knew you too well.

✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ 

“Did you hear who’s here?”

Looking up from your notebook, you see the excitement in your co-partner’s eyes… under all that blue mascara and funky makeup. 

“Put that thing away! It’s a party. Guess who’s here?”

“Who?” you resign, putting your tiny notepad and pen in your purse. 

“Only your FAVORITE film director, AND he’s looking to fund the film institute, AND he’s newly single.”

You contain your excitement, but she’d never realize it was there. “You talk like a teenager when we need to get down to business, ‘partner’. Is he really here and looking to fund it?”

“And he’s single,” she reiterates. “Oh, and the Kim Namjoon is here.”

…..Oh.

“He's so handsome, isn't he? And on top of all that talent? I think he’s looking to put together some pieces for an upcoming exhibition in his gallery… And word on the street is he's looking to get into film, too. Actually….," she pauses, "you two seem like a good fit. I’m sure you’ll work together one day.”

The thought of seeing Namjoon made your heart race, but really there was no reason for you to be surprised. The both of you had become prominent people in the art industry… It was more surprising that you hadn’t bumped into each other in all these years, dancing within the same circles. And you always promised yourself…

Still, you were there for work, you reminded yourself quickly. Sure, it was a party, but everyone networked at these things. And you had a film institute that needed funding….

-

The night went well, you mixed and mingled with so many people that were interested in film and the institute, and you can’t help but feel a rush when receiving your favorite director’s business card, complete with his personal phone number…. Where that’d go, you couldn’t tell, but his brief mention of funding and a collaboration idea was more than enough. Lost in the adrenaline, you forgot about Namjoon entirely….

“Y/N, there you are!,” you hear from behind you,. It was a partygoer you had just met….a familiar, looming figure was talking to someone else behind her. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere! Have you met Mr. Kim Namjoon?”

Of course. This was it. 

The all-too-familiar figure turns towards you, his glaring eyes fixated on yours for a moment so long you missed the partygoer’s unnecessary introductions. 

“….Miss Y/N here is a leading figure in the world of film,” you hear, “which I know you expressed interest in delving into, Mr. Kim.”

“You don’t need to introduce Miss. Y/N L/N to me. It’s good to see you,” he says with a smile, eyes still locked onto yours, but you don’t miss his fingers twitching around the glass in his hand before he outstretches his other arm.

“It’s good to see you too,” you reply, shaking his hand. Just as soft and big as you remember it to be.  

“Oh! Have you… met?” the elderly lady asks from somewhere in your peripheral vision. 

“We have,” you simply respond with a nod, but Namjoon elaborates.

“We… now.. we now know of each other.”

“Oh…. Well… why haven’t you collaborated yet?! I’ll leave you to it, figure it out and make it happen,” you hear the woman insist and briefly see her figure disappear into the crowd. 

“It really is good to see you, Y/N,” he says, finally breaking the silence between you in the otherwise noise-filled room. 

“Same to you, Namjoon….”

“I’m proud of you and all that you’ve done. I never got the chance to say that.”

“Thanks. I’m proud of you, too… ‘Mr. Kim’,” you laugh.

“Oh,” he winces with a chuckle, “It sounds even weirder coming from you. At this age and I still haven’t gotten used to it, to all of…. this,” he says, waving around to the party behind him and taking a sip of his drink. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like a good party, Kim Namjoon, I know you too well.”

“You do, you do…..,” he says, nodding. “And I do, like a good party. But you know just as well as I do that this isn’t a party. This is just… networking and business.”

“Yeah… and you’re interested in film, all of a sudden….”

“Not all of a sudden, Y/N, you know that, but it is time for my foundation to step into film. We've neglected it for far too long, but… fuck I don’t want to talk about that…” he waves off. “You’re the only one here I can have a normal conversation with…”

You had both begun to hear distant calls of ‘Mr. Kim Namjoon!’

“….Can we step out for a while?”

-

Just around the corner from the gallery the event was held at, was a quaint yet artsy bookstore and bakery hybrid that was surprisingly still open at this hour. But at the employees’ silent acknowledgment of Namjoon, you suspected he was a regular… or the more obvious answer, they recognized him as famed writer and art philanthropist, Kim Namjoon. 

“Sit, I’ll get us some stuff,” he says, before returning to you with two coffees and two pastries. “A lemon flavor and a dark chocolate one… Because we’ve gotten so old.”

You chuckle, taking a bite of the bittersweet dark chocolate pastry, the perfect cup of coffee in your hands, the beautiful bookstore you were in and wondering how you never found it, but most of all you were taking in the moment… Taking in the fact that you were sitting opposite Namjoon again. Taking him in. With his eyes wandering around in thought, and a smile on his face. Already, it was as if no time had passed at all. Except, age looked good a bit too good on him. 

“Coffee, desserts, bookstores, and probably late-night conversations with Kim Namjoon… Takes me back.”

“Yeah…..” he thinks aloud, eyes still scanning above and below as he does…. “Yeah, I missed this.”

“…So have I…. I’m sorry I never reached out, Namjoon.”

“Don’t be,” he says, looking at you through his brows and taking a slow sip from his coffee. “I never reached out either.”

And…,” he starts, rubbing his hands together before continuing, “ I don’t know if I can take another year,” he says, breaking the silence.  “Friends again?”

You don’t even have to think about it. “Friends again.”

“Good,” he sighs with a wide smile, his eyes still forming little crescent moons when he did so. “Phew. Finally, I’ll have someone that gets me. Maybe we both changed over the years, but even so, I’m just glad I’ll have someone to talk to about books and art again. Someone that doesn’t want something out of me or isn’t bored out of their mind when I do so like Yoongi. I made the funniest joke the other day and he just ignored me like I hadn’t said anything.”

“What was the joke?”

“What do you get if you cross a painter with a heavyweight boxer? ….Muhammad Dali.”

You scoff. “Seems like Seokjin rubbed off on you. Kim Namjoon, you haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you,” he says. “I saw you with your little notebook. Who brings a notebook to a party?” 

“I was writing down information I knew I’d forget! Do you know how many people introduced themselves? I need to differentiate the flirting guy from the ‘kid faking that he’s in the industry’ from ‘serious collaboration potential’! They’re all in that sacred notebook, with a description of each person!”

“The flirting guy, huh? In addition to that too-good director? I saw him give you his number...” Namjoon chuckles, before going silent. “Whatever happened with… to the engagement?”

Despite having no contact with Namjoon over the past couple of years, there’s no way word wouldn’t have gotten to him. Despite everything, if you had made that mistake, he still would’ve been invited to the wedding. 

“You know, Namjoon.”

He nods. He knows. He probably knows that he’s the one who woke you up from that nightmare too. But nothing needs to be said. 

“Yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Whatever happened to that model by the way?”

“…Which one?” he smirks. 

“Fuck off, Kim Namjoon,” you throw a flimsy napkin in his way, laughing while he explodes into his hearty, hyena laugh - the one he rarely lets out. 

“Oh, it’s been ages since I heard that,” you say, pretending to wince at the noise. 

“It’s been ages since it came out of me.....”

“Why? Seokjin’s not around? Too busy with his wife and kids?”, you ask. 

“He’s around, still as funny, but… I don’t know, you make me laugh…differently…”

“It was your joke! You basically made yourself laugh, Joon,” you giggle. 

“Oh, fuck,” he says. “…'Joon’…”

You search his face, trying to sense what he was feeling but you couldn’t tell what it was…  

“No one called you that? Over the years? It seems like a… common, easy nickname for you….” you say calmly, wondering why no girlfriend or lover ever used the soft as summer nickname for the man who was the same.  

“People tried to,” he shakes his head. “I never let them.”

“Why?” you ask, eyes narrowing. “Why, Namjoon?”

“Y/N…. I know I don’t have to explain sentimentality to you.” His gaze shifts from the paper cup he toyed with to your eyes, and again, you just sit in silence. 

It was time. 

“You know, Namjoon, I did a lot of thinking…. over the years… About myself, the world…. You know, we called ourselves unlucky but we’re really quite stupid.”

“I know,” he nods. “We are, but… go on.“

“It was stupid of us to attribute it all to luck and the world. Especially because… all these years, I don’t think either of us really knew what we were searching for. We chased the empty label of ‘love’ without defining how that’d look like to us. And that’s what I’ve been working on.”

“And?” 

“And…. After countless movies, books, art, and a lot of self-reflection….. I finally have an idea.” Your eyes wandered as you talked, but you were determined to keep them on him, who listened intently, as you continued.

“I have an idea… of what love looks like to me. Whenever I thought about what I wanted, what I had and experienced… I realized that what I wanted was what we had. That friendship, that support, that empathy, respect, trust, honesty, and understanding… that… love.

I loved you, Namjoon. I love you.”

“And I loved you…and love you. I always did and always will,” he says immediately, calmly. “But…. what exactly are you saying?”

You knew he meant it as you did. You didn't need to define what type or over-analyze it and sub-categorize it as you would have when you were younger. It was love. Deep, true love. And it’s now or never...

“Is that offer still on the table?”

A chuckle escapes him, as well as the smile he tried so hard to contain.

“You needed to rewatch all those movies and reread all those books to figure it out? I could’ve painted you a picture years ago. But… you never even asked if I was single.”

“Are you?” you ask, hoping the quiet chuckle you let out concealed the bubbling feeling of regret in your chest. “Or is there another model? Some artistic muse? What did you call that one from years ago? ‘Alright’? ”

“The model, the curator, the.. whatever, they were all… alright but… wrong. No one ever… got me,” he admits, raising his eyebrows when he sees you nodding at his use of your words. You were on the same page. “I stopped searching for someone who did…. and then I went to that party.

I always wanted that for you, Y/N, but I never realized I needed it too…”

Namjoon was at his most vulnerable, and so were you, laying your honest truth out to the person who knew you best…. But it was easier to see it in his eyes. It’s something you hadn’t seen in him since your twenties, but he seemed more sure of himself than ever. So ready to be vulnerable, so ready to be honest, so…

“So…." you say, partly thinking aloud, partly hoping Namjoon could continue the conversation. 

“So, you finally get why I made that offer, way back when?” he asks.

“How did you know? We were in our twenties… Wait… did you come up with this because you had feelings for me all along?!”, you say, mouth agape in shock and amusement. You’d never doubt your friendship was a sham, but what if…

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not the Knightley to your Emma, idiot, I wasn’t attracted to you then. It was just…. something that felt right. It still does. I didn’t know… much.”

“So, the offer is still on the table?”, you ask after a moment of silence.

“Of course it is.”

“Are you 35?”

“A little older,” he winces. "All this time and you're still bad at math, huh?"

You roll your eyes. “Well, you said ‘around 35’.... so, we’re right on schedule. And I still need to be wooed, Kim Namjoon. I know you have it in you,” you smile, feeling confidence return to your bloodstream like a rush of adrenaline after years without it. 

“You finally know what you deserve,” he says softly. “You are getting bewitched, Y/N, whether you like it or not.”

“Bewitched and hitched?” you laugh.

“Hey, don’t come for my job. Or actually, a joint poetry book or short film shit would be nice, we should do that,” he thinks, “but yes…. bewitched and hitched.”

Staring at the man you knew so well sitting opposite you, you couldn’t wait.

“‘When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible,’” you quote quietly.

“When Harry Met Sally…,” Namjoon nods. “You loved that film.”

“I do…” you nod. “so with that in mind, how soon can we make the wedding?”

He laughs, his hand reaching for yours across the table before he stands up and envelops you in a warm, soft embrace. Taking in his familiar scent of coffee and cologne, you don’t want to let go. In any way. But he does, only to kiss you on the cheek and giggle when you tip-toe to reciprocate.

“And if we fight?”, you suddenly ask Namjoon, your demons briefly popping in to ruin the moment.

“We used to. As couples do,” he shrugs, taking your hands in his. “All those ‘if’s’ worked out in our favor, didn’t they? It didn’t seem like they did….until today.” 

He brushes a hair away from your face, fingers grazing your jawline. Amidst all the familiarity of the night, this was new…. His lips slowly meet yours in a kiss as soft as summer and sweeter than the chocolate you could taste on him.

Breaking away, his hand instantly finds his stomach. You don’t need to theorize what it means, but you can’t hide the shock you’re feeling. He could be so innocent at times, you remember thinking, whenever you saw him rub his belly button every time he got butterflies from a girl. 

“Wow, do people our age still get butterflies in their stomachs?” You giggle, placing your hand on his. This was definitely new ground. “And to think I caused this.” 

“I hate how I could never control it, it feels like a tickle," he smiles. "Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt this in a while, though... I wish my 'tell' was as subtle as yours.”

“I have a tell?!!,” you yell, immediately wondering if anything gave away that you were feeling the same way. 

“You do. Not to bring him up but I never saw it with what’s-his-face and that's when I knew… But anyways, I think I’ll keep it a secret. So you don’t make a note of it,” he says while you roll your eyes, but in doing so a book behind Namjoon catches your eye and suddenly, you remembered your surroundings. 

“Anyways, is this beautiful place magically open for us to have this moment?”

“Well, if you’d say that, then I’m the wizard.”

“What?” you laugh. 

“Sweetie, I own this place.”

You momentarily ignore another ‘first’ in your life, Namjoon calling you a pet name, to take in the fact that he owned the most beautiful place you’d ever seen in your life.

“You OWN this place?! And you never told me about it? This is what I feel most betrayed about, Joon,” you huff, looking around. Of course it was his. Every inch of this placed screamed his name. No wonder you loved it so much.

“I guess I have to explain this one to you, don’t I? I saved this place from going bankrupt and completely revamped it. I thought of you every step of the way and… you know, I’m a romantic. I liked to believe one day you’d find this place by chance and just get that it was mine…. And that that’s how we’d meet. There’s even a screening room upstairs, beside the mini gallery, so I’m surprised you hadn’t found this place yet. There’s even a DVD section because you went on about the importance of physical media, which I now get. You didn’t even notice the name, huh?”

You look around, finding the minimalistic lettering and logo of the place on the far wall. “Unlucky - Art. Books. Coffee.”

“I love it, Namjoon,” you say, looking around in wonder… “And let me guess, you called it ‘Unlucky’ to defy the word itself?”

He nods, smiling as he walks over to you. “We were never unlucky. We were lucky… because we had each other.”

“‘Had’… I hate that we wasted those years in between,” you whisper. 

“Don’t be. The years got us here. To when we could finally have each other… again. It’s not too late if it’s the right way, the right time....”

“Let’s go back to that party,, hmm?” he says after another hug, “I’m already excited to introduce you as my fiancé.”

“And then we'll leave and talk some more. I’m not wasting a single moment of my life from now on, Kim Namjoon.”

“Of course…,” he smiles. “We’ll leave and… talk. The talking that results in the other thing we said would come with this deal.”

You pinch Namjoon’s still squishy yet firm arm before taking it in your hands as you walked back to the party, anticipating what came next.

Whether it was talking, Namjoon’s new definition of talking, hearing him introduce you as his fiancé, working with him, or even just the next minute by his side. It was the rest of your life. He was the rest of your life.

And neither of you could ever let this go. This was the love you’d both been searching for. 

[i-am-finally-done]

CLASSROOM OF THE ELITE S1- PHILOSOPHY

Hey! I'm super into philosophy, and while I was watching Classroom of the Elite (finally got around to it on my anime watchlist) I couldn’t help but notice the intro cards all have quotes (some of which I’ve never read!) so I thought of compiling them so that I can go get all the books and read them! 

Once I finish reading each one, I’ll write a summary and my review of it in its own post, if anyone is interested (just kidding I’ll do it even if no one cares).

“What is evil? – whatever springs from weakness.” F.W. Nietzsche: The Antichrist

“Nietzsche wrote "The Antichrist" to be first among a proposed gigantic work concerning the re-evaluation of all values. Through the contents of the book, we see that the first of those values which he wants to extinguish had strong ties to Christianity, either as an expression of its direct doctrines or in disguised forms within the philosophy of supposedly secular philosophers.” Njoku, I. The antichrist summary. Book Analysis. https://bookanalysis.com/friedrich-nietzsche/the-antichrist/summary/

“It takes a great talent and skill to conceal one’s talent and skill.” La Rochefoucauld, “Reflections; or Sentences and Moral Maxims”

* "This famed work by a noted French author of the Renaissance era, seventeenth-century nobleman François de La Rochefoucauld, offers hundreds of brief, brutally honest observations of humankind and its self-serving nature. The perfect read for any realist—or anyone with the desire to evaluate their moral standing—this edition includes three supplements with additional maxims and essays." Summary by google books. https://books.google.com/books/about/Reflections.html?id=gn53DgAAQBAJ

“Man is an animal that makes bargains: no other animal does this – no dog exchanges bones with another.” An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nation. Adam Smith

"An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, generally referred to by its shortened title The Wealth of Nations, is the magnum opus of the Scottish economist and moral philosopher Adam Smith. First published in 1776, the book offers one of the world's first collected descriptions of what builds nations' wealth, and is today a fundamental work in classical economics. By reflecting upon the economics at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, the book touches upon such broad topics as the division of labour, productivity, and free markets." Summary by google books. https://books.google.com/books/about/An_Inquiry_Into_the_Nature_and_Causes_of.html?id=C5dNAAAAcAAJ

“We should not be upset that others hide the truth from us, when we hide it so often from ourselves.” La Rochefoucauld, “Reflections; or Sentences and Moral Maxims”

*-

“Hell is other people” Jean-Paul Satre, “No Exit”

"Two women and one man are locked up together for eternity in one hideous room in Hell. The windows are bricked up, there are no mirrors, the electric lights can never be turned off, and there is no exit. The irony of this Hell is that its torture is not of the rack and fire, but of the burning humiliation of each soul as it is stripped of its pretenses by the cruel curiosity of the damned. Here the soul is shorn of secrecy, and even the blackest deeds are mercilessly exposed to the fierce light of Hell. It is an eternal torment." Summary by google books. https://books.google.com/books/about/No_Exit.html?id=QYhjF19zobIC

“There are two kinds of lies; one concerns an accomplished fact, the other concerns a future duty.” Jean-Jacques Rousseau, “Emile, or On Education”

“Jean-Jacques Rousseau's 'Emile, or On Education' is a groundbreaking work that delves into the philosophy of education, focusing on the natural development of a child's own innate abilities. Written in a conversational style, Rousseau presents his ideas through the fictional character of Emile, a boy raised away from societal influences to emphasize the importance of education based on nature rather than traditional methods. . .” Summary by google books. https://books.google.com/books?id=R0_mEAAAQBAJ

“Nothing is as dangerous as an ignorant friend; a wise enemy is preferred.” Jean de La Fontaine, “Fables”

"Jean de La Fontaine collected fables from a wide variety of sources, both Western and Eastern, and adapted them into French free verse. They were issued under the general title of Fables in several volumes from 1668 to 1694 and are considered classics of French literature. Humorous, nuanced and ironical, they were originally aimed at adults but then entered the educational system and were required learning for school children." Summary by wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Fontaine%27s_Fables

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, “Inferno,” Canto III, Line 9

“Thirty-five years old at the beginning of the story, Dante—the character as opposed to the poet—has lost his way on the “true path” of life; in other words, sin has obstructed his path to God. The Divine Comedy is the allegorical record of Dante’s quest to overcome sin and find God’s love; in Inferno, Dante explores the nature of sin by traveling through Hell, where evil receives punishment according to God’s justice. Allegorically, Dante’s story represents not only his own life but also what Dante the poet perceived to be the universal Christian quest for God. As a result, Dante the character is rooted in the Everyman allegorical tradition: Dante’s situation is meant to represent that of the whole human race. . .” Summary by sparknotes. https://www.sparknotes.com/poetry/inferno/character/dante-alighieri/

“Man is condemned to be free.” Jean-Paul Sartre, Existentialism and Humanism

"Over the past sixty years the writings of Jean-Paul Sartre have probably been more influential in the West than those of any other philosopher and literary figure. In his theoretical writings, Sartre laid the foundation for an original doctrine of Existentialism. His concern, however, was to relate his theory to human response and the practical demands of living.” Summary by google books. https://books.google.com/books/about/Existentialism_and_Humanism.html?id=vZs6PgAACAAJ

“Every man has in himself the most dangerous traitor of all.” Kierkegaard, “Works of Love”

“One of Soren Kierkegaard's most important writings, Works of Love is a profound examination of the human heart, in which the great philosopher conducts the reader into the inmost secrets of Love. "Deep within every man," Kierkegaard writes, "there lies the dread of being alone in the world, forgotten by God, overlooked among the household of millions upon millions." Love, for Kierkegaard, is one of the central aspects of existence; it saves us from isolation and unites us with one another and with God. . .” Summary by google books. https://books.google.com/books/about/Works_of_Love.html?id=_6OEccL5znEC

“What people commonly call fate is mostly their own stupidity.” Schopenhauer, Philosophical Writings

“Arthur Schopenhauer was a German philosopher. He is known for his 1818 work The World as Will and Representation, which characterizes the phenomenal world as the manifestation of a blind and irrational noumenal will. Building on the transcendental idealism of Immanuel Kant, Schopenhauer developed an atheistic metaphysical and ethical system that rejected the contemporaneous ideas of German idealism. Schopenhauer was among the first thinkers in Western philosophy to share and affirm significant tenets of Indian philosophy, such as asceticism, denial of the self, and the notion of the world-as-appearance. His work has been described as an exemplary manifestation of philosophical pessimism. . .” Summary by wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Schopenhauer

“Genius lives only one story above madness.” Schopenhauer, Parerga and Paralipomena

“Parerga and Paralipomena (Greek for "Appendices" and "Omissions", respectively; German: Parerga und Paralipomena) is a collection of philosophical reflections by Arthur Schopenhauer published in 1851. The selection was compiled not as a summation of or introduction to Schopenhauer's philosophy, but as augmentary readings for those who had already embraced it, although the author maintained it would be comprehensible and of interest to the uninitiated nevertheless. The collection is divided into two volumes, covering first the parerga and thereafter the paralipomena to that philosophy. The parerga are six extended essays intended as supplementary to the author's thought. The paralipomena, shorter elaborations divided by topic into thirty-one subheadings, cover material hitherto unaddressed by the philosopher but deemed by him to be complementary to the parerga.” Summary by wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parerga_and_Paralipomena

congratulations on scrolling all the way down here! I included short summaries provided by the internet because I feel like they really help give a reason for wanting to read the entire media instead of just moving past after quote :)

can't wait to start reading!

[dreamweaversfavsandthoughs]

Rick and Morty S7 Ep. 9: Mort: Ragnarick

(God is dead and we killed him…and killed him…and killed him)

Turn away now to avoid the Viking hordes of spoilers ahead

My Favs

Delightfully unhinged…

This is a perfect description of the episode (and this season as a whole)

Somehow this episode combines the afterlife of Norse mythology, Pokémon, Bigfoot becoming an enemy-turned-ally and a showdown with the leader of the Roman Catholic Church into a story that is cohesive and wildly entertaining. Every single screen grab of this episode is one WTF moment after another, probably more so than any other episode to date.

…and sacrilegious

Did I mention that the villain of the episode is the Pope himself? Well it is.

“Fuck you, I’ve been tired”

Gotta love a sassy Morty moment.

Feral Clone Rick

I can imagine the conversation the director had in the recording booth,

“ Hey Ian, we’re going to need you to sound like a rabid squirrel at this moment. No, more rabid. More rabid.”

Plus, I don’t know what comment the writers are saying by implying a feral, animalistic version of Rick can make his way up the hierarchy of the Catholic Church….

Heavy Metal song during the tower defense sequence

Bigfoot being transported into Summer’s clone

Honest moment, I didn’t get why Summer/Bigfoot commented on how small her feet was the first time I watched this episode. I am slow on the uptake.

Poooooooope!

Popey Ball

I love me a corny pun and the fact that Rick had to point out this very corny, very obvious pun was icing on the cake.

Saying goodbye to Bigfoot

It absolutely killed me that they forced Bigfoot, who is just some guy at this point, back into the woods like he some stray animal. So mean!

Not My Fav

I wish we could have explored other afterlives.

When I saw the cold open for this episode I got really excited because I’m a bit of a mythology and religion nerd and I was expecting that this episode was going to be more of a deeper dive into different kinds of afterlives. It was a little bit disappointing that we only visited Valhalla and, very briefly, Jerry’s concrete and fog machine heaven. If I had written or pitched this episode I would have loved to see Rick and Morty hop around to different religions’ afterlives (Greek, Egyptian, Christian, Buddhist,etc.) and use different elements of those afterlives to harness infinite energy and defeat the Pope. Maybe in an early draft they went in that direction and it just got too bogged down and they had to cut back. Or maybe Valhalla is the only afterlife that Rick had a chance of getting into. He sure isn’t getting into Christian heaven after this episode.

My Thoughts

The concept of an afterlife is a bit tricky to develop in a show where one of your main characters is a staunch atheist and there is a scientific and naturalistic explanation for everything, including things that are traditionally associated with the supernatural, i.e. the afterlife. Of course, the explanation is nothing but science fiction mumbo-jumbo, that is said rapidly and moved on quickly, less we dwell on the nonsense too long. Nevertheless, I prefer the attempt to create consistency in the show's philosophy rather than have the writers throwing their hands in the air and conceding to the existence of the supernatural. Curious observation, we never see any deities in Valhalla and the Valhallans haven’t either since Rick is able to convince them that he’s Odin. Feral Rick being hung on a crucifix didn’t escape my attention either. It’s a running joke that Rick’s a god but maybe it’s not a joke after all…

This seems like a standalone episode but there has been a trend since season 4 or season 5 to have the penultimate episode connect with the finale, so I’m interested to see if this trend will continue. I don’t buy that Rick wants to tap into the afterlife just for the wealthy of infinite energy. Do you?