#started reading passion simple and her accounts of being a young woman in love is so much like what i experienced when i was like

[svensklangblr]

had so few customers today that i was able to read well over 100 pages while on the clock and getting paid, finished my book and took the bus to buy two annie ernaux books after work

[ineffable-endearments]

The Crow Road by Iain Banks

I finished The Crow Road and had a little time to think about it. I'll put my thoughts under a Keep Reading in case anyone is trying to avoid spoilers.

As I speculated before, I think it's likely that The Crow Road is more related to Good Omens in philosophy than in plot. I mean, it's not that the plots necessarily have nothing in common, and we could be very surprised in the end of course, but now that I've read the whole book, its philosophical commonalities with GO are both apparent and kind of inspiring. Also, if I were a writer, I'd be more interested in dropping hints about what themes are important than telegraphing my whole plot ahead of time.

So here, I will describe the book and point out themes that I believe may reappear in Good Omens 3.

This is a long post. If you read it, make a cup of [beverage of choice].

Update on 4/20/2024: I made a second post: The Crow Road and Good Omens: Further-Out Thoughts

Below are mentions of suicide, death/murder, and sexual acts.

The Crow Road centers around a character named Prentice McHoan, a university student in Scotland who starts to sort out his complicated relationship with his complicated family as he explores the mystery of his uncle Rory's disappearance. Although the book is mostly from Prentice's perspective, the narration jumps around in time with the McHoan family. There are quite a lot of important characters to keep track of; the bare-bones summary I put below doesn't even include some of the important ones. I wanted to make the summary even shorter and simpler than this, but the truth is that this book is not short or simple, and if I made the summary any simpler, it might be downright misleading.

There are at least three major cultural aspects of The Crow Road that I am inexperienced with: the overall culture in the 1950s-1980s (I was born in 1988, so of course wasn't here for the relevant decades), the international experience of the Gulf War (again, born in 1988), and the history and culture of Scotland itself (I'm USAmerican with only reading as a source). As a result, I'm sure there are important dimensions to the book that I've missed. If someone has a different perspective taking some of these things into account, I'd love to know about it.

Also, keep in mind, there is a great deal of descriptive writing in this book. There are a lot of pages about the geography of Scotland, and about Prentice as a kid, and about Prentice's father and uncles hanging out together in their youth, and about various family incidents, and about Prentice spending time with his brothers and friends. At first, these passages seem to just make things more confusing, and in my head, I accused them of being "filler." But they definitely serve a purpose. They're a way of showing and not telling the characters' attitudes and relationships to each other. More importantly, because we get to actually live these experiences with the characters, they are what give all the plot points below their deeper emotional impacts. In other words, the everyday experiences give the plot its deeper meaning. They resonate with one of the core themes in the novel: that our experiences in life, rather than any supposed existence after death, are what matters.

The Crow Road's story is like this:

Prentice is rather directionless in life, and he seems to have trouble investing any energy in his own future as he moons over his unrequited feelings for an idealized young woman named Verity. Soon, Verity ends up in a romance with Prentice's brother, Lewis, and Prentice feels that Lewis "stole" her from him. Prentice has also become estranged from his father, Kenneth, over spirituality. Prentice believes there has to be something more after death because he feels it would be incredibly unfair if people didn't get anything other than this one life; Kenneth is not only a passionate atheist, but is offended by the notion of an afterlife.

Prentice's uncle Hamish, Kenneth's brother, has always been religious, although his religion involves a number of bizarre and offbeat ideas of his own, with inspiration from more traditional Christian notions. Prentice is not really sure about this ideology, but he's willing to talk to Hamish about it and even participates during Hamish's prayers, whereas Kenneth is openly scornful of Hamish's beliefs. Hamish interprets this as Prentice being on "his side."

Prentice has a few opportunities to go back and talk to his father, and is begged to do so by his mom, Mary, with whom his relationship is still good. Mary doesn't want either of the men to give up their inner ideas about the universe; she just wants them to agree to disagree and move on as a family. Prentice says he will visit, but he just keeps putting it off and off and off.

Prentice acquires a folder containing some of his missing uncle Rory's notes in the process of hooking up with Rory's former girlfriend, Janice Rae, who seems to have taken a shine to Prentice because he reminds her of Rory. Using the contents of the folder, Prentice wants to piece together the great literary work that Rory left unfinished, which Rory titled Crow Road; however, it becomes apparent that Rory didn't turn his concepts into anything substantial and only had a bunch of disconnected notes and ideas. He hadn't even decided whether Crow Road would be a novel, a play, or something else. The few bits of Rory's poetry for Crow Road read are bleak and depressing.

Prentice also spends a lot of time with a young woman named Ash. They've been good friends since childhood and seem to have a somewhat flirtatious dynamic now, but they aren't in a romantic relationship; mostly, they drink and hang out together. Ash tells Prentice bluntly to get his life back on track when she finds out he's failing at school, avoiding his family, and engaging in shoplifting. She is a voice of reason, and when Prentice insists to her that he's just a failure, she reminds him that actually, he's just a kid.

Prentice's efforts to figure out Rory's story or location stagnate, and he continues to fail at school and avoid his father. He then receives word that Kenneth was killed while debating faith with Hamish. In fact, Kenneth dies after a fall from a church lightning rod, which he was climbing in an act of defiance against Hamish's philosophy when it was struck by lightning; Hamish is convinced that Kenneth had incurred God's wrath. Ash is there for support when Prentice finds out about the death.

With Ash's help, Prentice returns to his hometown again to help manage Kenneth's affairs. Prentice speaks with a very shaken Hamish, who is handling Kenneth's death with extreme drama and making it all about his own feelings. Hamish tells Prentice that Kenneth was jealous that Prentice shared more in common with Hamish's faith than with Kenneth's lack of faith. However, this isn't really true, and as he contemplates his father's death, Prentice begins to internalize one of the last things Hamish reported that Kenneth had argued: "All the gods are false. Faith itself is idolatry."

As the chapters go on, Prentice is compelled by some of the meaningful items related to Rory that he discovers in his father's belongings. He gains a renewed sense of purpose trying to solve the mystery of where Rory went and what happened to him. Among the interesting items are an ancient computer disk of Rory's that Prentice can't access with any equipment he can find; Ash uses her connections in the US and Canada to find a computer expert who can finally open the files on it. This takes quite a while, since the disk has to be mailed and Ash's connection is investigating the disk only in his free time.

Prentice also discovers that his feelings for Verity have changed. He no longer feels angry with Lewis for "stealing her." At first, Prentice's narration describes this as his feelings "cooling" as a result of the trauma of losing his father, but interestingly, this soon means Prentice gets to know Verity as a sister-in-law without getting caught up in jealous romantic feelings. Verity gets along well with the family, and Prentice is actually happy to discover that she and Lewis have a baby on the way. Prentice's relationship with Lewis improves greatly as well, partly because he is no longer jealous and partly because he realizes he does not want to lose Lewis, too.

Ash's connection who was looking at Rory's computer disk comes through and sends the printed contents of the files to Prentice. The files reveal to him that Rory likely knew Prentice's uncle, Fergus, murdered his wife by unbuckling her seat belt and crashing their car. Rory had written out a fictional version of events and considered using it in Crow Road. I'm not clear on exactly how certain Rory was about Fergus's crime, or whether Rory would have intentionally reported Ferg, or whether Rory even had enough proof to publicly accuse Ferg of murder, but people would likely have connected the dots in Rory's work and become suspicious of Ferg. For this reason, Prentice believes Ferg murdered Rory as well.

Prentice confronts Ferg. He doesn't get a confession and leaves Ferg's home with no concrete proof of anything; Ferg denies it all. But Prentice is soon physically assaulted in the night, and it seems Ferg was almost certainly the culprit, because he hadn't been home that same night, and he had injuries (probably from being fought off) the next day. A day or two later, Ferg's body is found unconscious in the cockpit of a plane, which crashes into the ocean. It's uncertain whether this was a suicide, but Prentice suspects it was. Rory's body is then soon recovered from the bottom of a waterway near Prentice's home, where Ferg had sunk it years ago.

As the mysteries are solved, Prentice realizes his feelings for Ash are romantic love. However, it's too late, he thinks, because Ash is about to take a job in Canada, where she may or may not stay. Prentice also hesitates to approach her because he's embarrassed about his previous behavior, venting all his angst about Verity and his father. He isn't sure she would even want to be in a relationship with him after that. But the very night before Ash leaves, she kisses Prentice on the cheek, which leads to a deeper kiss. They finally connect, have sex, and confess their mutual feelings. Ash still goes to her job in Canada, but says she'll come back when Prentice is done with his studies that summer.

The relationship's future is somewhat uncertain because something could come up while Ash is in Canada, but Prentice is hopeful. The book ends with Prentice getting ready to graduate with his grades on track as a history scholar, fully renouncing his belief in an afterlife while he acknowledges the inherent importance of our experiences in our lives now, and enjoying his time with Lewis and Verity and his other family members.

What's the point of all these hundreds of pages?

Well, look at all of the above; there's definitely more than one point. But the main point I took away is that we get this one life, with our loved ones in this world here and now, and this is where we make our meanings. There is no other meaning, but that doesn't mean there's no meaning at all. It means the meaning is here.

It's not death that gives life its meaning. It's the things we do while alive that give life its deeper meaning.

The Crow Road is described (on Wikipedia) as a Bildungsroman, a story focusing on the moral and philosophical growth and change of its main character as they transition from childhood to adulthood ("coming-of-age novel" is a similar term that is interchangeable, but more vague and not necessarily focused on morality/philosophy). And, indeed, all of the plots ultimately tie into Prentice's changed philosophy.

After his argument with Kenneth, Prentice feels childish and humiliated, and as a result, he refuses to go back home, which leads to a spiral of shame and depression. Kenneth dies and Prentice realizes it's too late to repair the relationship, which also leads him to realize it's what we do in life that matters, and that therefore, his father's argument was correct after all.

At the end of the novel, Prentice outright describes his new philosophy. However, I can't recall one specific passage where Prentice describes the process of how he changed his mind (if anyone else can remember something I missed, do let me know). There is, however, a moment when his narration indicates that Hamish seems less disturbed by his own part in the incident that led to Kenneth's death and more disturbed by the notion that his beliefs might actually be true: there might actually be an angry, vengeful God. In other words, Hamish's philosophy is selfish at its core.

My interpretation is that when his father died, Prentice realized three things: how utterly self-serving Hamish's devout faith is, how Kenneth's untimely death proves the importance of working things out now rather than in an imaginary afterlife, and how much profound meaning Kenneth had left behind despite having no faith at all. After these realizations, a determined belief in an afterlife no longer makes our lives here more profound like Prentice once thought it did.

Also, it's worth noting that this incident changes Prentice's idea of partnership, too. He loses interest in this distant, idealized woman he's been after. In love as in the rest of life, Prentice lets go of his ideals, and in doing so, he makes room for true meaning, both in a sincere familial, platonic connection with Verity and a sincere intimate, romantic connection with Ash.

But what about the sex scene?!

Yes, indeed, at the tail end of the story, Prentice and Ash have sex and admit they want to be in a relationship together. Prentice's narration describes them sleeping together and having intercourse not just once, but many times, including some slow and relaxed couplings during which they flex the muscles in their private parts to spell out "I.L.Y." and "I.L.Y.T." to each other in Morse code. This is relevant because earlier, they had been surprised and delighted to discover that they both knew Morse code; it isn't a detail that came from nowhere.

I didn't get the impression that this scene was trying to be especially titillating to the reader. It was mostly just a list of stuff the characters did together. I felt the point was that they were still anxious about being emotionally honest, a little desperate to convey their feelings without having to speak them out loud, and awkward in a way that made it obvious that their primary concern was the feelings, not the sexual performance. They cared about each other, but they weren't trying to be impressive or put on a show; contrast this with previous scenes where Prentice would act like a clown in front of Ash to diffuse his own anxiety. I've always thought that being able to have awkward sex and still enjoy it is a good sign.

Okay, so what does this all have to do with Good Omens?

Here's where I have to get especially interpretive. I'm doing my best, but of course, not everyone reading this will have the same perspective on Good Omens, the Final Fifteen especially. I believe similar themes are going to resonate between The Crow Road and Good Omens regardless of our particular interpretations of the characters' behavior and motivations, but I suppose it could hit differently for some people.

The TL;DR: I see similar themes between The Crow Road and Good Omens in:

The importance of mortal life on Earth

Meaning (or purpose) as something that we create as we live, not something that is handed to us by a supreme being

Sincere connection and love/passion (for people, causes, arts, life's work, etc) as a type of meaning/purpose

Relationships as reflections of philosophy

The dual nature of humanity

Life on Earth as the important part of existence is a core theme in Good Omens, and has been since the very beginning. We all already know Adam chose to preserve the world as it already is because he figured this out, and we all already know Aziraphale and Crowley have been shaped for the better by their experiences on Earth. But Good Omens isn't done with this theme by a long shot. I think this is the most important thematic commonality Good Omens will have with The Crow Road. Closely related is the notion that we create our meanings as we live, rather than having them handed to us. Isn't this, in a way, what Aziraphale struggles with in A Companion to Owls? He's been given this meaning, this identity, that doesn't fit him. But does he have anything else to be? Not yet.

Partnerships as a parallel to the characters' philosophical development also resonates as a commonality that The Crow Road may have with Good Omens. Prentice's obsession with Verity goes away when he starts to embrace the importance of life on Earth and makes room for his sincere relationship with Ash. Note their names: "Verity" is truth, an ideal Prentice's father instills in him; "Ashley" means "dweller in the ash tree meadow" in Anglo-Saxon, according to Wikipedia, and "ash" is one of the things people return to after death. Prentice literally trades his high ideals for life on Earth. We see in Aziraphale a similar tug-o'-war between Heaven's distant ideals and Crowley's Earthly pleasures, so I can see a similar process potentially playing out for him.

I don't particularly recall a ton of thematic exploration of free will in The Crow Road. However, there is a glimmer of something there: Prentice feels excessively controlled by Kenneth's desire to pass down his beliefs, and part of the reason Prentice is so resistant to change is simply his frustration with feeling censored and not being taken seriously. As the reader, I do get the feeling that while Prentice is immature, Kenneth made major mistakes in handling their conflict, too. And Kenneth's mistakes come from trying to dictate Prentice's thoughts. There is likely some crossover with Good Omens in the sense that I'm pretty sure both stories are going to take the position that people need to be allowed to make mistakes, and to do things that one perceives as mistakes, without getting written off as "stupid" or "bad" or otherwise "unworthy."

Suffice it to say that the human characters in Good Omens will also certainly play into these themes, but it's hard to write about them when we don't know much about them except that one of them is almost certainly the reincarnation of Jesus. This also makes me suspect perhaps the human cast will be 100% entirely all-new, or mostly new, symbolic of how Aziraphale and Crowley have immersed themselves in the ever-evolving, ever-changing world of life on Earth. Alternatively, if we encounter human characters again from Season 1 or 2, perhaps the ways they've grown and changed will be highlighted. For example, even in real-world time, Adam and Warlock have already, as of the time I'm writing this, gone through at least one entire life stage (from 11 in 2019 to 16 in 2024). They'll be legal adults in a couple of years, and if there's a significant time skip, they could be much older. If characters from Season 1 do reappear and themes from The Crow Road are prominent, I would expect either some key scenes highlighting contrasts and changes from their younger selves or for stagnation and growth to be a central part of their plot.

The more I write, the more I just interpret everything in circles. Hopefully this post has at least given you a decent idea of what The Crow Road is like and how it may relate to Good Omens.

I'll end this post with a quotation that feels relevant:

Telling us straight or through his stories, my father taught us that there was, generally, a fire at the core of things, and that change was the only constant, and that we – like everybody else – were both the most important people in the universe, and utterly without significance, depending, and that individuals mattered before their institutions, and that people were people, much the same everywhere, and when they appeared to do things that were stupid or evil, often you hadn’t been told the whole story, but that sometimes people did behave badly, usually because some idea had taken hold of them and given them an excuse to regard other people as expendable (or bad), and that was part of who we were too, as a species, and it wasn’t always possible to know that you were right and they were wrong, but the important thing was to keep trying to find out, and always to face the truth. Because truth mattered. Iain Banks, The Crow Road

[inevitably-johnlocked]

((my account is @mymiddlenameslove tumblr is still being weird lol)) do you have any fics where john and sherlock hold hands for the first time? i just love the build up/panic that leads to some good fluff thank you (*´∇｀*)

Hi Lovely!!!

Bah, sorry about Tumblr being dumb!!!!

What a fun fic req!! I know for SURE I’ve missed a lot, so these are either fics I remember have hand-holding, are tagged with it, or I’ve just re-read and found it in there :D Hope you Enjoy!!

HAND HOLDING / for COMFORT

The Four Incidents by TheGirlWithRedHair22 (K+, 1,064 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, John Whump, Accident, John POV, Hand Holding, Worried Sherlock, Sherlock’s Self Esteem) – The first time John was present when someone insulted Sherlock, he brushed it off as a strange coincidence.

Peacock by ClassyGirlsWearPearls (T, 1,189 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Cranky Sherlock, Soft John, Hand Holding, Soft Sherlock) – A study in Sherlock and John.

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

Random Numbers by songlin (T, 1,671 w., 1 Ch. || Ace Sherlock / Straight John, Cuddling / Snuggling, Massage, Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Post-TRF, Slice of Life) – A collection of moments in the relationship of asexual!Sherlock and straight!John.

Giveaway Fic #9 - Angsty Sick Fic/Sherlock is Sick by ConsultingPurplePants (T, 1,734 w., 1 Ch. || Sick Fic, Hypothermia) – The next time he awakens is even more chaotic. Two doctors are shouting at each other in the corner, and John is holding his hand so tightly Sherlock is worried he’ll break it. Part 9 of 1000 Tumblr Followers Giveaway Fics

Once is Enough by Jominerva (T, 3,030 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Whump) – Just as the earth rises to meet the sun at every mountain crest, John reaches out for Sherlock and takes his hand in his own."Tell me it won't end like this," he says, blue eyes holding grey while he laces their fingers together. Sherlock lets out a shaky laugh and shakes his head. "I wish I could."

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

A Gossamer Dream by CarmillaCarmine (E, 15,985 w., 4 Ch. || Writer/Teacher AU || First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Writer John / Teacher Sherlock, Fluff, London, Holding Hands, Online Friendship / Romance, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Alternating POV, Scottish John, Online Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, Hand Holding, Forehead Touching, First Kiss/Time, Texting/Sexting, Rimming, Toplock, Sherlock Speaks French) – Sherlock had never realised one could care so much about someone they'd never met in person. Now he is about to meet the friend with whom he's been chatting online for months and his anticipation is reaching a crescendo.

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

A Love with No Name Series by aceofhearts61 (G to M, 49,955 w. across 20 stories || Asexual Sherlock / Straight John, Est. Rel, Queerplatonic Relationship, Romance, Cuddling, Fluff, Platonic Romance, Domestics, Rape/Non-Con) – In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,100 w. across 45 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They've been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐎𝐧𝐞

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Rowan glanced at his pocket watch and attempted to swallow his irritation.

How was it only nine-o-clock still? He had already suffered through enough social niceties to last a lifetime.

Now, he listened with but half a mind to his cousin drone on about the night's guests. His head was filled with all the tasks he needed to see to, including searching for a new governess for his sons. His boys kept chasing away every woman he employed and he was hesitant to hire a tutor, because he believed they needed a woman's influence too, now that his own wife was too ill. The physician had done all he could but there was not much hope she would wake, loathe as he was to admit it. Perhaps he should have accepted his mother-in-law's offer and send the boys to their her after all?

"--and Arobynn's here too—"

That caught his attention. "He is?"

"Mhmm. Look, over there, no, no, to the left—besides the pretty redhead, yes, just so."

A man stood by the entrance with a red-haired woman on his arm, tall and muscular, with a fine-boned face. His auburn hair were pulled back into a bun, offsetting his pale skin and the fine cut of his suit was a stark reminder of his prominent position in society, despite the whole stigma around tradesmen.

"I knew he was fond of flaunting convention but escorting his mistress to a ball?"

"You haven't heard?" James approached them with a drink in his hand. "She is not his mistress but an adoptive daughter of sorts and his apparent heir."

Fenrys choked on his drink.

"He named a girl heir to his trade empire—and not even his own blood—stupid!"

"Spoken like a man," said the gentleman and shook his head. "He raised her himself, is introducing her to all his associates and she doesn't look dumb either."

James nodded towards the redhead he had seen earlier, dressed in the finest black silk with a neckline low enough, it bordered on scandalous. Her copperish-red hair were pinned into an elegant coiffure with pretty, gold hair combs and a simple, pearl necklace completed the striking picture she made. Her sharp, defined features were barely beautiful until she laughed—a musical sound in itself—and he wondered whether he had seen anyone prettier.

"If hers was the last face I ever saw, I'd die a happy man." Fenrys sighed and walked off.

James rolled his eyes. "He's about to seek an introduction to her, isn't he?"

Rowan's lips twitched up.

He had always liked James. The man was completely without artifice and his enthusiasm for everything was so infectious, no one could remain angry with him. He had spent a few summers with the Galathynius children, until their youngest daughter was abducted and the visits stopped.

"I say you must frown a little less, sir, unless you wish to give offense."

Rowan looked up, startled at being addressed by the object of his thoughts. She looks even lovelier up close, thought he.

"I detest these events."

"So do half the people in this room and yet, appearances must be maintained."

"Deceit is not in my nature."

The lady frowned. "It is not deceitful to pretend you are interested in an event in order to spare your host's feelings."

"Your motive may be charitable but it is no excuse for dishonesty."

The lady looked amused but did not pursue the topic further. "I hope you will forgive me for speaking without a proper introduction, sir. I am not a fan of convention."

Rowan smiled.

An unmarried woman, not even of age, and already a heiress to a trade empire—by all accounts, she did not seem like one.

"I will, if you allow me to remedy the situation now." He bowed with exaggerated formality. "I am Mr. Rowan Whitethorn of Harcomb, in Doranelle."

Her cheek dimpled. "Miss Celaena Sardothein—my father—"

"Mr. Hamel, yes, I know." He almost cringed at how rude he sounded. "He and I, we are—"

"—business associates, yes, I know," she teased with an impish grin, replying in a poor imitation of his own deep voice.

Her eyes twinkled with amusement, filled with laughter and mirth—turquoise orbs, ringed with brilliant gold.

All of his resolve flew out of the window. "Miss Sardothein, will you allow me the pleasure of leading you into the first set? The dancing is about to commence."

"The pleasure will be all mine."

In hopes of starting a conversation, he said, "You are a fine dancer."

"I would have believed you to be a liar if we hadn't already established that deceit of any sort is your abhorrence."

He smiled. "And if I were being insincere?"

"I would take it as a compliment to myself, for it will mean that you are acting on my advice from earlier about lying for the sake of appearances."

They fell silent again.

"We must talk some, you know," said Rowan. "For someone who claims to be concerned with appearances, do you not think it would look odd for us to spend a half hour together but in silence."

She startled at the sudden statement. "Introduce a topic then and I will do my poor best to maintain the conversation."

Rowan complied and was pleasantly surprised to find her lively and good-humored and well-informed on most subject from current fashion disasters to books to political bills and movements. Her arguements were passionate and far from taking offense at his dry humor, she matched it with witty quips of her own; and to top it alll off, she was as skilled a dancer as a conversationalist.

Rowan was almost annoyed when the song came to an end. He could not recall the last time he had been half as well entertained.

"You will be the death of me, you foolish, foolish chit!" screeched the old matron.

Fenrys had allowed himself to be dragged into a bookstore, which happened to be one of his least favourite places, by his cousin, James—the second son to his uncle, Lord Rhoe, the Earl of Narrowcreek—and was now eager for any sort of amusement. He turned towards the high-pitched shriek with interest.

A young lady stood near the shelves, tall and proud, even in the face of her mother's ill-bred manners.

Her blonde hair fell down in waves, half pinned by dragonfly-shaped hair combs. The fabric of her dress was fine enough for her to belong to the first circles and yet, he could not recall seeing her—or her mother—anywhere.

"Ungrateful child! Wait until I tell your father what you did; he will be most displeased."

She bit her lip to contain her mirth, though her cheeks flushed with embarassment. Her eyes flitted to the door and back, as if she was looking for some escape.

"Poor girl," the bookshop owner murmured.

The following words had the unfortunate attention of drawing the mother's attention towards the owner.

Lord Fenrys almost laughed at the alarmed look on the owner's face when she began lamenting to him instead and then looked over at the lady who was staring at the door with a thoughtful look, as if wondering whether or not to attempt an escape.

She must have decided in it's favour because she gathered her skirts and made a mad dash towards the door.

Fenrys realised he was standing in her way and hastened to move but it was too late—

"Darn!" cried she.

The commotion drew her mother's attention and upon spotting her wayward daughter lying on the floor with a grimace, she rushed over with a whole new litany of complaints.

Fenrys could have sworn the lady cursed under her breath.

"Stubborn, stubborn child! I told you not to run off without me but oh, how you love vexing me," shouted her mother in her high-pitched voice. "And what are you doing, bothering this fine gentleman over here? You had better not to talk to anyone if you are determined to refuse them all. You broke that poor man's heart—"

Fenrys quirked an eyebrow in interest, looking thoroughly entertained.

Her cheeks flushed further.

He frowned.

Up close, her face looked awfully familiar. He searched his brain for an answer.

A memory flashed in front of his mind. A highly unconventional black dress, a tinkling laugh and a ballroom.

Realisation dawned.

"Miss Sardothein! Fancy seeing you here," said he. "I almost didn't recognise you because of the hair."

"The hair? Oh, yes, I am very fond of dyes, but you have caught me in my natural state."

"I find you lovelier than ever. If you will forgive me for prying, I could not help but observe you haven't bought a thing yet, even though I know you to be a great reader! Is the reading material not to your taste, Miss Sardothein?"

Celaena answered wryly, "As a matter of fact, the books here suit my tastes very well—It is only that I am not allowed to buy books for a month—as punishment."

"No books! And what awful crime did you commit to merit that?"

"I rejected a marriage offer."

"A capital offense!"

Celaena smiled, "Indeed."

"I hope you are appropriately ashamed of yourself!"

"Horrified at my own audacity, really."

The lady looked up at him and grinned; Fenrys' own face turned pale and his mouth fell open in surprise. Ashryver eyes! She had ashryver eyes—like James, Aedion, and their mothers Helen and Evalin and—gods. The little poem his cousins had made up in childhood came to the forefront of his mind.

"The fairest eyes, from legends old,

Of brightest blue, ringed with gold."

But how...?

He looked at the woman again: her eyes bright and mirthful and thick eyelashes resting on her cheek, the face tugged at his memory; and she smiled so impishly, he had seen that smile before—

"Aelin," he blurted out.

He was startled when her smile dropped and recognition flickered in her eyes.

Fenrys shot an alarmed look towards the shelf behind which James had disappeared. Aelin was here! But how could this be? His heart thumped loudly inside his chest.

"Aelin?" She inclined her head in question.

He smiled uncertainly.

Was she really his little cousin? Aelin had been five year old when he last saw her.

But if he was wrong about this, could this come to bite him in the ass? She was certainly as old as his cousin would have been, had she been alive and she had the same unruly blonde curls and those ashryver eyes, teeming with life.

It couldn't be...

Arobynn's adoptive daughter.

"Yes, Aelin was my favourite cousin—you, uh, you remind me of her."

"If she is your favourite, then I am inclined to take that as a compliment." Celaena—Aelin?—smiled again, though her eyebrows remained drawn still. "The name does sound familiar. Perhaps I would have heard of her in the newspaper? The society column is a great source of amusement to my father. He reads it aloud to us from time to time."

Father? He wondered if she was talking of Arobynn or Mrs. Rhunn's husband.

Fenrys smiled sadly. "That is not possible for you see, my cousin died when she was five."

At least I thought she died.

"I am sorry for your loss." Then, with an arch look on her face, she asked, "If she was like me as you say, she must have been delightful."

He chuckled. "An absolute troublemaker."

"Definitely like me then," said she, sparing a look towards her mother. "I should leave now, before my mother lists you off as yet another suitor!"

And before he could think to stop her, she curtsied and scurried off.

Fenrys stared at the door, somewhat dumbfounded. Aelin is alive. He marvelled at the thought and then wondered how on earth he would inform her family—James would be ecstatic and his father would have to be informed, and Edward would have to be called to London, gods. Edward!

Aelin had been missed by all but no one grieved her as the poor man had.

Edward would be ecstatic; everyone would.

Fenrys ran towards his cousin out of breath, who was still examining titles in one corner.

"Fenrys, god, slow down, man! Whatever happened? You look like you saw a ghost."

He blinked.

Then, without any attempt at tact or discretion, he blurted out: "Aelin is alive."

"Aelin, Aelin, stop that—no, look at your frock, mother will be so angry, no, Aelin! You will hurt yourself like that."

The man watched, concealed behind the ridge as a little girl skipped from one mud puddle to another, blonde curls bouncing up and down as she moved. Her elder brother followed at a more sedate place, calling out admonishments and threats, not that they had an effect on her.

Aelin grinned over her shoulder and ran, leading her brother on a merry chase.

The man was still debating how to go about abducting the girl when fortune smiled upon him; she twisted her leg and fell down, prompting the boy to run towards her.

"It hurts," she whimpered, refusing to stand.

The man smiled maliciously and waited as the boy looked around. "Very well," he said finally. "If you promise not to go anywhere, I will fetch papa. Do not move, Aelin."

The boy rushed towards the manor house, ignoring the twisted knots in his stomach and burst into his father's private study. In his panicked state of mind, it took a few attempts for Rhoe to make sense of his garbled words.

A foreboding feeling rose in his stomach.

She will be fine, he tried to reassure himself. Aelin, troublemaker that she was, had had a lot worse than a twisted ankle.

But his alarm grew the nearer they came to where she was supposed to be and his heart pounded inside his chest. All colour drained from his face when they didn't find Aelin where she was supposed to be.

"Are you certain this is where you left her?"

Edward nodded.

Rhoe suddenly felt dizzy, his knees buckled and bile rose up in his throat.

He reined himself in and with admirable composure, organised search parties to search around the estate and the neighbourhood.

The search carried on until late that night, when an express rider from the nearby magistrate arrived with a letter: a nearby warehouse had burned down earlier that day and two bodies were found: a man in his forties, who could not be identified and a seven year old girl who had on a silver anklet bearing the word fireheart and requested Mr. Galathynius' presence tomorrow at the warehouse to confirm the girl's identity.

Rhoe folded the letter, excused himself from company and sent his sons to their beds.

Then he entered his study: the study no one was allowed to enter without permission—except his Aelin—slumped into the armchair by the fireplace and wept.

note: ...and it's here. I have so many drafts of this chapter lying around, I'm surprised I actually finally posted it lmao.

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if you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

[chattahoochiecoochie]

Various Storms and Saints Review

I’m alive! As per usual here is my disclaimer. I’m a fan in every sense, though I write fanfiction, and even some personal stories in my free time, I am in no way qualified to actually judge or critique anyones writing. Therefore, this is just a fun way for me to express what I liked about my most recent reads. Without further adieu lets get started.

This story is by @viridianatnight and can be found on AO3. 

This is going to be long, so pack in, I’ve got a lot of thoughts. First and foremost, I’m a summary kind of gal. I like to know what I’m getting into, I analyze the tags, fully digest the summary down to the punctuation. VSAS lacked a summary but the reviews were raving so I went ahead and dove head first. Man oh fucking man did she nail it. Maybe our dear author isn’t one for summaries or maybe she planned it. Every chapter had me on the edge of my seat, waiting for that final reveal, the big drop in plot, the crescendo. It was worth it. Through every guess and shot it the dark it was worth it. She delivered.

Every so often you read a story where there isn't a syllable wasted. This is one of those. From that damn pebble in a box all the way to Narcissa’s nickname for her son. My dragon? Are you joking me. 

Never before have I felt I have known Hermione. You love her, always, she's a star. But here she is human. Here she is a woman. Here is a character who I know, who I have met, who I will meet again in life. She is drowning and swimming, lost and found. She is me. She is all of us. Self loathing is so deeply tragic and for the first time that I have read, Hermione is tragic. This story is as much a romance as it is a tragedy for the ages. You watch the little girl you loved as a child, who’s character came alive on paper, start to die in front of you. Without becoming to much of a sap, the simple fact is this, if you as a woman want to feel seen go open your web browser and get to reading.

And Draco. What a man. Tall and handsome is to be expected, but multifaceted and palatable is another beast entirely--and yet here he is on screen, all of those things. His relationship with Theo is (I hate to overuse the word) human. They’re boys still, really, who love one another deeply but will never admit it without a fight. They’ll defend one another fearlessly and bite hard when confronted about it. Draco often has passion in the stories I’ve read but not like this. He has a fire inside him that burns for Hermione, for his best friend, for his mother, and even for his enemies. He is completely consumed by his love and his anger. He is almost nothing outside of those feelings. They make him as a man, good and bad. Sure he might be a touch scary but boy oh boy is he the kind of partner (and lover) we all long for. 

Before we get into the little things I want to talk about Ginny. What a star. What a friend. In most stories Hermione is cut away from the group, relegated to Slytherins almost entirely. Its wonderful to see her friendship with Ginny thrive, and even more to see it be genuine. There is sisterly love sure but Ginny puts up a fight, as every good friend has. 

Molly. You bastard. Her letter to Hermione left me gutted. Especially when she’d been so great at holding Ron accountable in the past. 

The cellphone was truly something special. The way it allowed Theo to step further into the light as a main character was brilliant. Speaking of his role, theres a happy ending! Our comic relief and great logician (seriously his wisdom is what held this all together) finally gets an ending he deserves. 

That of course launches me into another ramble. Queerness is so rarely written without angst. Seamus and Dean are just in love. There is no hardship or pain written about. They are two young men and they are in love and there isn't anything else to say about it. And the way that Theo feels no shame about being in love with a man, rather just shame that he can’t have him, its just beautiful. It’s simple and plain and perfect. 

Okay okay I know I said this was going to be long and I promise I’m wrapping up. Heres a rapid fire round before I sign off entirely. Lavenders death? Crippled me. She is a virtue? I squealed. Peace and love, I’m so sick of having to google French. So sick. So tired. I’ll keep doing it though, till the day a man calls me mon coer.

Honestly my joy is too much for words. This is one of the greats, without a doubt. Viridian, you have a gift, and I pray that you never stop wanting to share it with us. 

If you liked this review you can find my others here TRTTD | Manacled | Remain Nameless | Apple Pie and Other Amends Sorry if the links are funny, I completed traded places with my secondary blog a while back and its been weird :/

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, some mild smut.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: All I can say is: I’m sorry. My head is a strange place.

Chapter 29

  “Marcus!! Oh, get that sweet tush over here and hug me, and you better make it a good one after you’ve neglected to visit my cave for longer than these magic hands care to remember.”

  You already loved Velma.

  “Hey, Vel. I’m sorry, I’ve been preoccupied.”

  He did hug her, and properly too, as well as about 10s longer than what would be considered socially acceptable for mere friends, without either of them seeming to find it weird or awkward at all.   You still loved her.

  “Thank you, my darling. You’re forgiven. Now, tell me what you’ve brought me?”

  He beamed at you. He really did love any opportunity to show you off, but he seemed especially pleased about this introduction.

  “Velma, this is my fiancé. Hermosa, as you’ve undoubtedly gathered – this is the one and only Velma.”

  “Your fi… You’re getting… And you’re here. You brought her to me! Are you…?”

  “Yes. I am. On both counts.”

  “YES!! Thank the Greek fucking Gods!! A wedding-dress, and for you, my darling, of all people! Thank you.”

  “Well, technically it’s for her.”

  “Oh, no, sugar. The dress is for the groom. The shoes – are for the bride.”

  She finally set all of her glorious attention on you.

  Velma was a drag-queen, and the most awe-inspiring individual you’d ever seen. Everything about her was superior. She was taller than anyone else in the room, helped by fucking spectacular plateau shoes, she was broad-shouldered and muscular to boot. She carried herself like an empress, with a kind of stillness and real elegance, despite having so much flare and finesse to her. And even though she was covered in colours and sparkles, she somehow looked like she would belong absolutely anywhere.   And when she actually looked you in the eye, you could almost feel her read the pages of the book that was your life, and yet, there was nothing intimidating about it.

  “Well, now. There’s a lot of story here, isn’t there?”

  “A bit. Yeah.”

  “Mm. Alright then, come with me, darling. I demand to know every little detail about the woman my Marcus has chosen.”

  She turned dramatically, and headed for a side-door in the studio workshop where you were, and you looked at Marcus with a wide grin.

  “She’s coming to the wedding.”

  “Don’t worry – she’s on the list.”

  “I don’t care about any list. She’s coming. I need that amount of sparkle at my wedding. And I’m not just talking about the clothes.”

  He chuckled happily as he watched you literally skip over to the open door, and disappear inside.

-----

  Three weeks later, you finally got around to getting your house sold. It was a fairly quick sale since the neighbourhood was nice and the yard was bigger than most other properties on that street. And since you didn’t really need the extra money, you could give the young couple that fell in love with it, a kind price.   You weren’t really particularly sorry to see it go, but you were very happy to see it fall into the hands of people who would appreciate it. For a long time, that house had been your refuge, your safe harbour when life got hard, and you wished that it could be the same for someone else.   You put the bulk of the money in your savings-account, and ear-marked the rest for wedding-expenses.   There still wasn’t really any actual planning going on, as far as dates and times and venues were concerned. But you and Marcus were still getting through a lot of the stuff that goes on around the actual day.   You’d settled on what colours you wanted for the flowers, and what types they should be. You’d had an almost outrageously fun day last weekend, trying out the recipes for all the wedding-cakes you’d both found online. And after soiling literally every inch of the kitchen with flour, and tasting so many different cakes your taste-buds had eventually given up, you had managed to conclude that you wanted a lemon-flavoured one. Missy had tried to get you onto the chocolate-train, but you’d held your ground, with the promise that there would indeed be chocolate present, just not in the cake.   You’d completed the guest-list, and chosen the invitation cards, but they were safely stowed away in a drawer, still unwritten.   It wasn’t that you were stalling or didn’t feel ready. You were just genuinely enjoying the preparations, and not having that deadline made them feel like they were just fun things to do over a weekend, rather than things you had to do to be ready in time. Especially since Missy loved being a part of it too, it made the whole thing feel like a prolonged family event.

  By now, the only thing that was still on the prep-list was Marcus’ suit, but you’d both agreed not to make any decisions on that until you’d seen what Velma did with your dress.   You’d spent two whole days in her cave, getting your measurements taken and your skin-tone evaluated. There were about a hundred things about your body that she’d wanted to know, but you trusted her with your life already, so you’d happily complied.   Plus; any excuse to spend time with her was a good one.   Work was finally becoming manageable again, as you’d finally caught up on all the stuff that was trailing behind, and you were deliberately keeping any and all new projects firmly steered in other directions or delegating them onto other designers. You had enough on your plate with just getting through the already started ones, on top of the wedding-planning.   Today had been a good day, so far, and you’d decided to go and find Marcus and see if he had time to join you for lunch.   When you approached his office, his door was open and you could hear Tech talking. Not wanting to interrupt, you stopped outside and out of sight, while you waited for their conversation to finish. You picked up your phone to send an e-mail while you waited.

  “I can’t believe that building was still standing after that.”

  “Crushing lost control for three seconds. Let’s just be grateful it wasn’t longer.”

  “Oh, I remember that time back in the beginning when he was out of it for like 20 seconds.”

  “I think most of Colombia remembers that, too.”

  “Probably.”

  “Hey, um. Speaking of losing control…”

  “What?”

  “Well, there’s a certain office on the other side of the building that gets a fair bit of noise-complaints.”

  You snapped out of your e-mailing and instinctively turned your head to listen closer.

  “Stay out of it, Tech.”

  “Hey, I’m not the filing them, and I never will. I’m all for healthy appetites. Just wondering if you’re aware of the fact that a lot of people are talking about you guys?”

  “So? Let ‘em talk.”

  “Sure. But they’re not talking about it being a nuisance or inappropriate. They’re talking about how the hell you can keep it up for three hours straight sometimes. Is that true, though?”

  You weren’t sure if you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you, or if you wanted to go find these people and tell them to mind their own business.   There was a brief pause before Marcus answered, and his voice was a bit lower than before.

  “It is. I seriously can’t get enough of her. Ever. No matter how tired I get, I can always go another round.”

  “That’s kind of amazing. How do you ever get anything done?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Any idea when the knot-tying might be happening?”

  “No. I’m dying to do it, to the point where I have to repeatedly tell myself not to just beg her to go to Vegas with me. But I also really wanna get it right, you know? Not necessarily perfect; just right. Right for us. And I want her to feel ready, so that she can just relax and enjoy that day, whenever it happens.”

  Your heart swelled to an almost painful size behind your ribs.

  “I am ready, honey.”

  You stepped over the threshold and watched as his expression turned from confusion to realisation as he saw you.

  “You wouldn’t have to beg. I’d go to Vegas with you right now if you asked. I’ve told you; I don’t really care how it happens. I’m enjoying the preparations and everything we’re doing together, but even if nothing ever got used, I wouldn’t feel like I missed out on anything. You’re the one that wanted the traditions, remember?”

  Tech excused himself at that point, and closed the door behind him after he left.

  “Do you still want all that, Marcus?”

  He looked so torn.

  “Damned it… Yes. I really do.”

  “Then let’s pick a date. Let’s find a place that feels right and let’s make it happen.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Are you ready?”

  He shot up from his chair and was suddenly holding your waist, staring into your eyes.

  “Ah, mi novia, I’ve been ready for a long time.”

  His hands migrated down to your ass, and you let him squeeze you to him. You were wearing a simple blue summer-dress today, and he quickly found his way underneath it, letting his hands run up your thighs and relieve you of your panties.   Then he pulled you along to the sofas, sitting down and urging you to straddle him.   It was almost strange how calm it was. The two of you were always so heated, so passionate whenever you came together, to the point where it was almost always beyond your control, or at least, on the very edge of it.   But this time, there was no tearing at each other’s clothes. No hands desperately grasping, needing and demanding more. No burning heat that made you feel empty and aching until he entered you.   The heat did come, but gradually. With each caress, each tender kiss and each movement of your bodies together, it slowly built from an ember to a flame.   Your walls actually allowed him to move inside you this time, and as you rocked yourself over him, a completely different kind of pleasure to what you’d become used to with him, built inside your core and seemed to reach towards your heart, instead of your sex.   After a while, he turned you both to the side so he could lay you down and settle himself on top of you, and that feeling that was creeping towards your chest, drastically intensified. He drove into you in long, strong thrusts that buried him as deep as your bodies would allow, each time, and his throat made involuntary little sounds of pleasure every time he returned into your wet and welcoming warmth.   It took you nearly thirty minutes to build to a climax this time, and when it finally hit, it was strong in a completely different way than it ever had been before. Your bodies didn’t curl or clench in on themselves, there were no involuntary power-outbursts, no levitation. But it felt like you were underneath each other’s skin. Like your hearts actually melded into one through the intricate contact of your skin and nerves.   It was utterly overwhelming and there were tears streaming from your eyes throughout the whole climax. And they didn’t stop, even after you’d come back down.   There was no pain or sorrow anywhere inside you in that moment, so you concluded that these were tears of pure love and you made no effort to stop them. You just held him close and waited for the feeling to burn itself out.   He burrowed his face into your neck while you laid there, feeling the tears as they passed over onto his cheek on their way down, but making no comment about them. He knew what they were, and it made him love them too.

  You took a late lunch together, and since the pills were working perfectly and the lab had been able to produce several months-worth already, you could enjoy eating like a normal person these days.   Marcus really did miss your stomach-bear, though, and he would occasionally drop comments like ‘this is one of those moments when mama bear would have roared’, and you felt a little bit sorry for him. It was like he’d lost a puppy.   While you ate, you started discussing what places you thought might be nice for a venue.

  “Churches are nice, but a bit… I hesitate to say ‘stuffy’.”

  “Yeah. They feel so formal, like you’re not allowed to have fun, and I really want us and our guests to feel like we’re allowed to have fun.”

  “Definitely. So, what about restaurants?”

  “Not my thing, if I’m honest, hermosa.”

  “I figured. Pavilion?”

  “Now, we’re talking. A big one, with lots of decorations and a dance-floor!”

  “You and your dancing.”

  “Oh, no; you’re the dancer, remember?”

  “And your foxtrot is adequate, but your waltz needs some work.”

  “Thanks. So, do we know of any potentially available pavilions, or are we gonna have to build one?”

  “Don’t you worry about that, sugar-plum, if it’s a pavilion you’re looking for – I know the perfect one.”

  Velma approached your table, wearing an even more daring outfit than last time you’d seen her. As always, she made a show of eyeing Marcus up and down and making appreciative noises to showcase his hunky-ness. And, as always, Marcus just smiled and let her do her thing.

  “Where is it?”

  “Didn’t I just tell you not to worry? I’ll take you to see it later if you want, but for now – I need to borrow your little cherry, here. Time to dolly you up, hon.”

  “It’s finished?”

  “Literally seconds ago. I came to find you right away, I need to see it on you before I can definitively say that it’s done.”

  Marcus beamed at you both while Velma slipped her arm through yours and led you back to her cave.

  Somehow, you’d expected it to be difficult to get into, or at least require assistance, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t a big or flaunty thing, nor was it heavy or complicated in its design. And yet, there was something so special about it.   It was snow-white with a hint of gold to the shimmer in the fabric, to match the rings. It was an off the shoulder style dress, with long sleeves in the most beautiful lace you’d ever seen, that carried over into the body of the dress as well, though it was purely ornamental there, as the actual body was made from satin.   From the waist down, there was no lace, but tiny golden details had been sewn into the satin and it made the dress come alive somehow.   The skirt was cleverly designed, so that it billowed out just a little, but without getting puffy, and it was still just two layers, making it easy to handle and comfortable to move in. There was no train, but she had made you a vail in the same exquisite lace, in case you decided that you wanted one.

  “Oh, my. Honey… I thought it looked gorgeous on the mannequin, but damn! You make this dress.”

  “It’s perfect, Velma. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

  “Marcus is gonna swoooooon…”

  “He’s gonna love it.”

  “Well, just make sure to have someone strong standing next to him so they can catch him when he inevitably goes down.”

  You just smiled at her.

  “Oh, and thank you for the shoes. You’re right, I’m gonna love these a lot more than the dress before the night’s over.”

  “You got that right, Cherie.”

  You met up with Marcus as soon as you were done in the cave, and the smile that lit up his face when he saw you carrying the special box that housed the dress, shoes and vail, could have put the sparkles in Velma’s very short skirt to shame.

  “You actually have it? It’s finished?”

  “It’s right in here.”

  He looked positively squirmy with anticipation.

  “And it’s even more beautiful than anything you’ve imagined. Trust me.”

  He chuckled.

  “I do.”

  Velma took you out to see the pavilion she’d mentioned, and it really was perfect. It sat on several acres of green lawns and meadows, with a large pond not too far from the structure. You could have the ceremony out on the grass, overlooking the water, and put up a canopy over the tables and chairs for the dinner and cake. And then move over to the pavilion for the dancing and fun-times. There were huge old oak-trees framing the entire area, giving the whole place a bit of a fairy-tale feeling.

  “Marcus, we have to pick a date. We have to find out if this place is available for us.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that, honey-bun. It’ll be available whenever you want it.”

  Velma gave you this knowing look and you gawked at her.

  “You own this place?”

  “For a long time now. I only use it for very special occasions, and I don’t go blabbering about it to every Joe and Willy looking for a party-house. But for you, my turtle-doves, it’ll always be available.”

  By the time you went to bed that day, you’d not only picked a date, but completed and sent all of the invitations as well.   You were going to get married on the ten-month anniversary of when you first opened your eyes and saw him by your bedside, which gave you roughly a month to get everything ready. And since you had everything pretty much figured out already, that wasn’t going to be a hard deadline to keep.

  Or, so you thought.

  But the day before the wedding came at you like you’d somehow fallen asleep at the wheel going 200mph down the highway.   Suddenly it was all happening. And while you were totally ready emotionally, you were also just not ready over-all, and you woke up that morning feeling sick. Actually sick.   Marcus was too excited to get more than 4h of sleep per night in the week leading up to that day, but he didn’t want to disturb you, so he’d gotten up and left the bedroom some time earlier that morning.   You walked into the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face but it didn’t do much to alleviate the nausea, so you gave up and just got dressed instead.

  “Hey, alma, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, sweetie, just feeling a little overwhelmed I guess.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. The wedding is happening, come hell or high water.”

  “Good.”

  “Where’s Marcus?”

  “He got called in to work really early, some crisis with a blue-whale, I think.”

  “Okay, well, then I’ll drive you to school.”

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t just take a sick-day?”

  “I’m not gonna be helped by sitting here wringing my hands all day. Let’s go, Maid of Honour.”

  She smiled at that, but then frowned.

  “You’re not gonna have breakfast?”

  “Kid, I’ll be happy if I can keep the damned pill down this morning.”

  You dropped her off and went to work, intending to treat this like any other Friday. But when you stepped into your office, there was a weird smell that just set off all your senses, and you had to duck over the first available trashcan and vomit. Since your stomach was empty, all that came up was bile, and that somehow made you even more nauseas.

  What the fuck was that smell?

  You abandoned your office and headed for Marcus’ instead. It smelled fine, so you sat down at his computer and used your own login to access your files and get to work.   But after about an hour you’d had to visit his bathroom three times as your stomach continued to try and cough up shit that wasn’t even there, and you gave up, and headed down to medical.

  You had just intended to ask for some anti-nausea medication, but because of your medical history, they insisted on an exam to rule out any possible delayed complications.

  You left medical in a daze, not even realising where you were going before you found yourself back in Marcus’ office.   You sat down in one of the sofas and just waited. You didn’t dare to even try and feel anything without him there, because you were afraid that you might suddenly feel way too much, and you needed him to be there, to keep you calm if that happened.   Some time later, Crushing ducked his head in and had to almost shout to get your attention.

  “Huh… What?”

  “I said, Marcus went home straight from the mission, two hours ago, he had something he wanted to get done for tomorrow. So, there’s no need to wait for him here.”

  “Oh. What time is it?”

  “Almost five.”

  “Shit…”

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “I hope so. Yes. I mean, yes.”

  “Want me to take you home?”

  “No, I’ll be fine, thanks Crush.”

  You drove home being almost ridiculously cautious and you laughed a little at yourself when you parked the car, next to Marcus’.   You were surprised to find the front door locked. You never locked the door when you were home. They must have gone out on foot for some reason.   Fishing your keys out of your bag, you unlocked it and stepped inside, and you were just about to call out to see if anyone was home, when you heard a sound that made every hair on your body stand straight up.   It was a mechanical sound, a machine of some sort. You couldn’t identify it, but your body sure as hell remembered it.   Walking into the living room, a fear unlike anything you’d ever felt before, flooded every cell inside of you.   Your own blood rushing in your ears drowned out the sound of your keys and handbag falling to the floor, as you tried to take in what you were seeing.

  Tubes… wires… computers… machines… bags of liquids… chairs that weren’t chairs but fucking instruments of torture. Two of them. One for Marcus… and one for Missy.   And right in between them – Dr. Prince.

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

[ijustwant2write]

A Free Spirit-Tommy Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @beautifulmultifandomfamily​)

Requested by @sylvanaiello​

Summary: ‘Hi ! I really love what you write, so much so that I'm French but I still read your writings in English because I love them! Could you write me a short story with dear Tommy Shelby? Like : the young woman is pregnant and with Tommy for years but she constantly challenges him to fend for herself, to go out or else ... and they argue. Sorry that's a bad description, but you're a fairy I know you'll make it great. (Sorry for my english!) much love XX’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mentions of sex, fighting, threats, pregnant symptoms, shouting, swearing

(A/N: I can’t believe there are people out there, who don’t have English as their first language that read my work! So sorry for the long wait though x)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

With all the strength in me, I used my entire body to push against the vault door, letting out a sigh of relief when it finally closed. Comically slapping my hands together, as if they were covered in dirt, I felt as if I wasn’t the only person in the shop. Of course, I knew who was standing there, I would be a terrible wife if I didn’t.

“Tommy, you’re here. Thought I was meeting you back home.” I smiled as I made my way over to him.

He didn’t look amused.“What did I tell you about getting involved with business?”

“What?” I kept a smug smile on my face, slithering my arms around his waist.

“The young lads were supposed to collect that debt money, not you.”

“Have you seen those boys? They’re still new to all of this, they would have pissed their pants if they had seen who answered the door.”

“Exactly. He could have hurt you.” 

Tommy’s arms finally wrapped around me, huffing at my actions from earlier. 

“Tom, I know what I’m doing.”

“But you don’t need to do it. Not anymore.”

“I don’t mind-”

“That’s not the point. You’re (Y/N) Shelby, everyone knows who you are, there is a target on your head.”

“There’s one on yours too.”

“I’m different.”

“How?”

“Remember when I kept pushing you away? Rejecting your advances when you would stumble about in the Garrison?”

“You make it sound like I was always drunk.”

“You were when I saw you.” 

“What point are you trying to make here?”

“I said no so many times because I knew I had already fallen for you. I didn’t want to put an innocent person in the firing line. Though I suppose it’s a little too late now.”

“Yes, it definitely is.” I held up my left hand, wiggling my fingers to show off the wedding band.“And I wouldn’t have approached you if I didn’t think I could handle the infamous Thomas Shelby.”

“Is that what you’re doing now?”

“Got you wrapped round my finger. Everyone knows it.”

I pulled away from him, walking away when I thought I was off the hook. However, he called out my name, and I refrained from slumping my shoulders, trying to not sigh at him. Turning around, I clasped my hands together, holding back a smile as he slowly walked towards me. Fuck, he was handsome.

“(Y/N), you’re not to do that again.”

“I’m not wanting to start an argument with you, I’m just going to ask a simple question. Why have you all of a sudden become so protective? More than usual?”

“We’re not getting any younger.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we were to start a family, I need you safe, I want you safe.”

I was never one to be taken off guard, or to be speechless for long. But what he had said shocked me. I knew Tommy valued family, but I hadn’t thought about having a child in a while. For some reason, I felt that Tommy was too busy for that; perhaps having a child running around would cause more stress than happiness.

The corner of Tommy’s lip raised.“That shut you up.”

“I...I didn’t think....we haven’t spoken of that in so long.”

“I know. But I’ve heard you speaking with Ada.”

“You’ve been eavesdropping?”

“I’ve overheard your conversations at the right time.”

I rolled my eyes.“Tommy, you should have said something sooner.”

“You want this?” He wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me into his body.

“You already know the answer.” He kissed me quickly, but I pushed him away.“Ah, ah, I will not conceive my child in the betting shop.”

“And why not? This is what they’ll grow up with, might as well start here.”

“No. We have a huge house at home with many bedrooms that we can use.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

We had the most amazing sex that night (not that it was ever not amazing), but the passion was intense. We wanted a baby, we loved each other. At first, we knew that starting a family was risky, but anything we did was a risk, he was the leader of the Peaky Blinders; so what was the point of worrying and getting no where in life? It made him more determined, he had another surge to protect everyone. Maybe a baby would change his point of view. All I was certain of, he wasn’t complaining throughout the process.

As we had hoped and expected, I feel pregnant, assuming the news when I woke early one morning, dashing to the bathroom with my hand clamped over my mouth, trying to not throw up over the lush carpets. The doctor later confirmed this, as did Polly when she decided to unexpectedly grab my breasts. She stated I was pregnant, and I couldn’t lie to her, because one, she already knew, and two, why would I dare lie to her? 

“Oi, oi! I hear we’ve got another Blinder on the way in nine months!” Arthur exclaimed as Tommy and I entered the Garrison. I was thinking of keeping it a secret a while longer, though all of that was thrown out of the window. 

“Well, we were going to tell you later down the line, but I suppose the word has spread.” I smiled, welcoming his hug.

That night was full of celebration, and although almost every night in the Garrison was long and full of drunks, this had a different atmosphere. It was more joyous, there was a lighter feeling in the room, even Tommy broke out a small smile. All of this, all those months ago; it felt like only yesterday I had announced my pregnancy.

Now here I was, four months pregnant, and definitely feeling the side effects of pregnancy. My bump was on show, that’s how I liked it to be, it was at that point where my dresses strained against it if it was too tight. My hands were constantly resting on it, soothingly rubbing it in calming motions. I loved this feeling, I never wanted it to end, but at the same time, I wanted to have my child in my arms. It was a confusing emotion. Tommy was always around me too, normally I would go a day or so without even knowing where he was, but now he was beside me at all times. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what was going on. He was paranoid before, but this was a whole new side of him I hadn’t seen.

It felt wrong, but I wasn’t going to obey Tommy’s every command. Yes, being pregnant obviously meant I had to be more careful than usual, but I wasn’t made of glass. Tommy always went on about how there were many threats to the Peaky Blinders, but I was always under threat, what was the difference now? I knew how to look after myself, I would never put my baby in danger. However, Tommy would never let it go, especially after the stunt I pulled in the Garrison.

The boys were supposed to be meeting with the rest of the family at the Garrison, though as usual they were late. Polly, Ada, Esme, Linda and I were sat in the private room, everyone else drinking but me. We were trying to engage in a conversation that didn’t involve any mention of God, though that was impossible with Linda there; to contradict this, Ada started arguing with her, using politics, and my head could take no more. Not wanting to snap at any of them, I excused myself, finding the rowdy bar more peaceful than the two bickering Shelby women. Sitting at the bar, I found myself talking to a few of the locals, until I spotted someone.

“William London? What are you doing in here? I remember my husband barring you, as well as threatening you if you ever came near this place.” I slowly slipped off the stool, holding onto my baby bump.

He rolled his eyes, beer spilling out of his drink as he waved it around.“I couldn’t give a shit. This is my local, I’ll drink where I like.”

“Your local is owned by my husband, the leader of the Peaky Blinders. Are you really that stupid to waltz back in here?”

Tension was building, and although the noise was still raised, people were keeping their eyes on us. 

“Who are you to tell me anything? You’re a woman, you’re not in charge here.”

“Not officially.”

“Look, your days of being a rebel are over. You’ve married into a gang to make yourself look bigger and badder, but all it’s done to you is make you a little housewife.”

I scoffed a laugh.“You must be blind then sir. You obviously don’t know me.”

He stepped forwards, pointing to me with the cup of beer.“Yes I do.And I know whatever is growing inside of you is from the devil himself. Might as well save you the trouble.”

My hands instinctively covered my bump more as I backed away, the men I was previously speaking to jumping up to barricade me. William didn’t stop, and although he wasn’t being violent, the men grabbed him, forcing the man back.

“Does no one see how he has used you to continue his legacy?!”

“Will, you were kicked out for many reasons, one of them on account of how crazy you are. Glad to see nothing has changed.” I spat.

As William started to fight back, thrashing against their hold, things escalated quickly. Voices were raised, fists were thrown, and I was backed into a corner, forced to stand behind the bar as to not get hurt. Just when I thought that no one could stop this, the doors burst open, Tommy, Arthur and John stormed in, knowing that there was trouble. It immediately stopped, the man currently holding William using this chance to throw him to the floor. 

“William London, what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Arthur snarled, hoisting him back up on his feet by the back of his collar.

Tommy’s steps broke the silence.“I told you to stay away. And do you remember what would happen if you came back?”

Nothing.

“Answer me.”

William kept his head low.“Y-you would cut my eyes.”

“I would cut your eyes, yes. Well, you broke that promise. It was a simple task, just go drink somewhere else. But you’re too much of an idiot to listen.”

He nodded to Arthur who nodded back, before dragging out a flailing William, John following after. No one was sure when to go back to their conversations, not wanting to risk offending the infamous Shelby. 

Tommy held his arms out, gesturing to everyone.“Well go on, back to your drinks. Enjoy your evening.”

As the noise level resumed, Tommy stared straight at me, and I knew that I was in trouble (though I hadn’t done anything wrong in my eyes). He walked out of the Garrison, wanting me to follow. Sighing, I stepped out from behind the bar, spotting Polly standing in the door frame of the private room. 

“You gonna be alright?” She asked, handing me my coat.

I slipped it on.“Yes. Just got to convince him that I’m not in the wrong.”

“Don’t put too much stress on the baby.”

“How can I not? I’m a fucking Shelby.”

Tommy was waiting outside. There was no sign of the other Shelby men, meaning they must have dragged William off to somewhere secluded. I was surprised when Tommy took my hand in his, starting to walk us to God knows where. I thought he would slump away, just wanting me to follow along. I didn’t ask anything, I didn’t even want to say anything. He was going to snap at me, for no reason, I didn’t want to start a fight. Surely he should have seen it as me respecting him and enforcing his rules?

We walked into the betting shop, Tommy not bothering to turn on the lights, until I did. Letting go of my hand, he ran his down his face, deeply sighing. I lowered myself into a chair, feeling the pressure lift off of my swollen feet. He noticed this, pausing his pacing and watching me.

“Before you say anything, I was not putting myself in danger. You walked in at the wrong time.” I started.

“I think I walked in at the right time. We’ve already pissed him off enough, what if William used you as revenge?”

“Revenge? Tom, that’s a bit dramatic isn’t it?”

“You saw him go berserk. He would have hurt you.”

“Yes, but I had people there to protect me.”

“They aren’t our men. They could have-”

“Tommy, they still fought him. Look, I’m sorry that I opened my mouth, but I can never stand it when people go against you. You’re a fucking Shelby, you banned him for a reason.”

“Yes, I understand that.” Tommy walked over to me, kneeling in front of me.“But you can’t be the same woman as before, not fully.”

“What? You’re telling me not to be myself.”

“I’m telling you to think before you speak. I’m not calling you stupid, or anything along those lines; but you must know that you’re an easier target now.”

“Because I’m pregnant.”

“Yes. We both know you can defend yourself, but with our baby, you’re slower, you can be hurt easier.”

“Tom, I know-”

Tommy placed his hand gently on the bump.“I don’t think you do.”

“I’m not an idiot! I’m stuck with this every day! Our baby is growing inside me, how can I not think about it?! But I am not incapable.”

He groaned.“You’re not listening-”

“I’m not going to sit around and look after the baby all day-”

“(Y/N)!” He raised his voice before clearing his throat.“You’re too used to this life, but I don’t want you to be. I don’t want our child to be. You’re not an idiot so I don’t understand why you’ve put yourself in these situations?”

“I...I...” I put my hand over his.“I’m Thomas Shelby’s wife. I’m supposed to be this strong, powerful woman that stands by the leader of the Peaky Blinders. You said it yourself, I’m much more of a target like this, so what are people thinking?”

“I take it back, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Excuse you?” 

“Everyone still thinks of you as who you were before I got you pregnant. You said it yourself, those men in the Garrison stood to protect you, even though they weren’t employed by us.”

“I’m just not able to do the things I used to.”

“All women think that when they’re with child.”

“But it’s different for me.”

“You’re still stubborn, that’s not changed.”

It was hard to hold back the smile at his comment, and his laugh made me break.

“Tom, I feel useless.”

“You’re not useless. I know that as soon as that baby is out, you’ll be wanting to get back into business you shouldn’t be involved in.” 

“Maybe not as much after our baby is here.”

“Really? Not going to train our lad as soon as he takes his first breath?”

“Course I will. But we must wait for the student to become the master, he’ll take after his mother.”

“I don’t know if I can deal with two of you.”

I gently grabbed his chin.“You knew what you were getting into when I drunkingly proposed to you.”

“As did you when I told you to shut up and proposed to you.”

I guided his face towards mine, kissing him hard.“God we’re romantic.”

[anikkis-fantasirealities]

“LiVELY Legacy of Japan’s Lionized Anisinger”

➀ Personality Profile ┊ ˢʰᵉ ʷʰᵒ ˢʰᶦⁿᵉˢ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗʸˡᵉ··· ˢᵐᶦˡᶦⁿᵍ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˡʸ ʷʰᶦˡᵉ ˢᵃˡᵘᵗᵃᵗᶦⁿᵍ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵉʳˢ·

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- - ——— ꒰ An article by Nicole “Nikki” Elaine S. Chua of NEU-IS ꒱

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ㅤㅤ ㅤ❝ Madamada iku wa yo~! ❞

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ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı. ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ﹕ᵍᵘʳᵉⁿᵍᵉ ⁻ ᴸᶦˢᴬ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ0:11 -◦————— 3:59 ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ〔 ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ╵╻↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ╻╵⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ 〕 ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤVolume: ▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ █ 100%

Lush, loose—lofty and lovely. Lucent and lavish—lustral, laid-back, & luxuriant. Luminous. Legendary. Limitless. Light hearted and letter-perfect. There is not enough words for me to describe her overflowing talent for music, and the impact she has created for tech-savvy usernames cheering on their favorite idols & animations alike. Nowadays, most millennials and Gen Zs go neck-to-neck with their clashing interests of two international sensations: one known for the funky beats of charismatic boys dancing in synchrony, and the other, notable for moving illustrations of all kinds of stories that allure the imagination. Yes, let’s admit it, my generation has fallen in love with the influence of K-pop and anime, though I cannot blame anyone because of the fun & happiness they bring. Do you agree with me?

Well, even if you cannot agree or relate with me, I’m sure you would be able to find this article interesting! This personality is not someone of looming authority nor power—she is not a lady from the West, nor the Northern isles or even the Southern seas. She is here: the Rising Sun’s pride and honor bestowed by a sharp katana slaying all evil. It is where that familiar tune of hers is empowered with the narrative of a young man and his breathing techniques—a tale beloved by many anime fanatics. Yes! I’d like to introduce to you, one of Japan’s famed singers of all time: 𝙇𝙞𝙎𝘼! Make your entrance, please!

╭╼|════════════════════════════════════|╾╮

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ 【 今日もいい日だつ 】 ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ❝ Today is another great day! ❞ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ- LiSA ╰╼|════════════════════════════════════|╾╯

My life is truly music-inclined, even if I have two left feet and a raspy, rough voice. Those foreign lyrics ring out in my head, every time I enter through the gates of Japanese culture and enter my fantasy I know so well. I mean, cool right? I can still remember how I first embraced her beginning chords in January 2020, when that song, Gurenge, was heard throughout the spacious stadium of the New Era University college department. It was the opening ceremony for Intramurals 2020, and as soon as the melody played, the crowd sang along in a noisy type of harmony.

𝙂𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙚, it means “red lotus” in English—the title of the Japanese opening theme for the animation called, “Kimetsu no Yaiba,” or more acclaimed as “Demon Slayer” by millions of anime ethusiasts across the web. I wondered what that range of vocals wanted to tell me. Those beautiful notes and the intensifying instrumental that accompanies such an epic story. Slowly, I understood why she is adored by many people, rain or shine, sun rays to lunar silhouettes. Now, here I am writing with everlasting conviction, to share everything I know about her—the reasons why that captivating rhythm, those inspiring words, and the pleasant emotions, made me sing along. So, let’s rest for a while, and I’ll tell you more about LiSA, behind the reflection of that worn out blade.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

LiSA, or Risa Oribe in real life, is a Japanese singer, songwriter, and lyricist from the Gifu Prefecture—in the small city of Seki. She is 165 centimeters tall, which is quite tall for a Japanese woman. She is known for her multiple song hits used in Japanese animation titles such as the Fate series and Sword Art Online. Though, did you know that she also sang for the music-based anime series, “Angel Beats!” as one of the main characters who so happened to be a vocalist, as well? This was LiSA’s professional song debut in the music industry, which she lunged into when she was given a chance to step onto the reknowned arena for some of Japan’s history makers: Nippon Budokan! As a kid, Risa Oribe was taught lessons in piano, dancing, and singing, which continued onto her junior high school years. After auditioning in the infamous Budokan, she held onto the dream of becoming an artist on the next journeys she would walk on outside her hometown.

Believe it or not, the name “LiSA” is an stylized acronym, consisting of confident letters that possess unique dignified meaning from one another. The stage name is adopted from a blast from the past, of the times Risa Oribe had travelled to Tokyo to form a band. “LiSA” stands for, “𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝘼𝙡𝙡” which may sound weird for English speakers, nonetheless, its significance still pulls my heartstrings all in all. Prior to becoming the individual singing artist, “LiSA,” Risa Oribe has always been a part of bands ever since high school—one of them being a cover band of indie rock music, “CHUCKY.” Despite the risk of working with the band in exchange for her accredited certificates from university, she continued to reach for her ultimate dream career as a singer. Unfortunately, “CHUCKY” only lasted for three years, and this is what led Risa Oribe to test her luck in the capital of Japan—persevering for that aspiration, because there’s no turning back now!

╭╼|════════════════════════════════════|╾╮

ㅤㅤ 【 じっと見つめた　キミの瞳に映ったボクが生きたシルシ 】

ㅤㅤ ❝ As I stare intently into your eyes, ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤmy reflection there is the proof I exist, ❞ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ- LiSA (Shirushi)

╰╼|════════════════════════════════════|╾╯

LiSA’s musical influences are, surprisingly, internationally respected musicians of the English language. Some of these prominent figures in her life are Avril Lavigne, Green Day, Paramore, and Rihanna. She is well-known for memorable hyped performances filled of power and passion. Sometimes, if people are granted the opportunity to be mesmerized by remarkable skill, she is also able to play the guitar and key harmonica in her concerts. She can sing in Japanese, obviously, but her words weaved with melody extends into Chinese and English perception, too. As a songwriter, she personally wrote some of her produced masterpieces like “Shirushi” and “Rally Go Round.” Though, perhaps you’ve never would guess that LiSA had a voice acting debut in 2015, too! Don’t get your hopes up because she did not give life to any anime characters, but instead, she became the Japanese voice of Madge Nelson in the film, “Minions.” I know, don’t get me wrong, it’s a shocking difference from the person LiSA is famous for.

However, for Risa Oribe, it was not something to be shy about, for she absolutely loves Minions! For avid fans of LiSA, they would often spot sightings of Minions merchandise in her social media accounts. It’s a fact that wouldn’t make you think that she can be that intimidating performer on fire, once she leaps onto stage. She still has that gentle vibe, especially when she raises her arm to greet the audience with a simple peace sign. The dark packed venue would chant along the bridge instrumental, rapidly waving their lightsticks until the song performance is finished. It’s as if the stars have landed in a small part of Earth during the night fall, to take a day-off head banging to the beat of rock. LiSA’s concerts deliver the message that “𝙇𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙎𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝘼𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨,” as it is the running title pinned to her lives from then to now.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Speaking of which, here’s a fun fact! Did you also know that LiSA’s albums all start with the letter L? From “Letters to U” and “Launcher,” to “Leo-Nine” and the recently revealed “Ladybug,” each album has a motif that follows her musical style. LiSA’s original songs tell stories of hope, determination, and love. Ever since she released her first solo single debut, “Oath Sign,” for the anime, “Fate/Zero,” her name would never vanish from the music charts of new singles and albums in Japan. Songs like “Crossing Field,” “Catch the Moment,” and “ADAMAS,” of “Sword Art Online” were also noteworthy for their impact on LiSA’s career as a singer, not only for Japanese animations, but also for Japanese TV dramas and live-action films. Her very own, “Homura,” for the anime film, “Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba: Mugen Train” have even outstretched to the Billboard charts across the Pacific ocean!

Today, she has celebrated her 10th anniversary in the music industry—a realization that it just seems like yesterday when she got to meet her fans in different countries, go on tours to perform everyone’s favorite anime songs of hers, and made her mark as an “𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧” of the Rising Sun. That is why she is, indeed, an artist with a lively legacy to our current era—a personality deserving of a profile article from yours truly. It’s been great having you with me in this article, and I hope you were able to find admiration for LiSA and her work! Thank you for reading! I’ll see you again in another blog where my fantasies become realities! A Nikki reminder: don’t always go with the flow, and be yourself! Good day!

╭╼|════════════════════════════════════|╾╮

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ 【 生き残ったこの世界で　新しい　眩しい　 ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ 開けを迎えに行こうか 】

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ❝ In this world I live in, there will be a new glow, ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ for now let’s welcome the new dawn! ❞ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ - LiSA (dawn)

╰╼|════════════════════════════════════|╾╯

· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚ . . 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . * · . · · + . ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ· ** ˚ . . + 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ. . + 　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧ ⋆ · * . · . · · .. . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ· + ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ · ** ˚ . . + ㅤㅤ　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ⋆ · * . · ㅤㅤ . · · .. . . · + .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ. · + . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⋆ * . * . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ . · ·

ㅤㅤ﹙dedication. ﹚ ୨˚୧ ˚ ༘♡.↳ ₊˚‧

This blog is dedicated to my sister, who is a big fan of LiSA. I am grateful that you’ve made me sing with her, forevermore.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 🎀 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ┊彡 Credits

➥ Cover Edit

➫ Background

➫ Stand-out LiSA holding a microphone stand

➫ Sitting LiSA

➫ Butterfly themed LiSA

➫ Kimono LiSA

➫ "Brave Freak Out" promotional picture

➫ "Only ≠ Lonely"

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ GIF

➫ "Gurenge" Music Clip ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ First Blog Divider

➫ "Datte Atashino Hero" Music Video

➫ "KiSS me PARADOX" -LiVE is Smile Always ～PiNK & BLACK～ Live

➫ "No More Time Machine" Music Clip

➫ "LEO-NiNE" Limited Edition A Album Cover

➫ "LUCKY Hi FiVE" Single Cover ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Second Blog Divider

➫ Raising Arm LiSA

➫ "ASH" Single promotional picture

➫ "Unlasting" promotional picture

➫ "ADAMAS" article by Billboard

➫ "Shirushi" Music Video ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Third Divider

➫ Red-themed LiSA

➫ "Letters to ME" Music Video

➫ "Surprise" Music Video ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Source of Information

➫ LiSA Wikipedia page

➫ LiSA’s Discography Wikipedia page

➫ Every Anime Song by LiSA fan-video compilation

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 end. 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ⭆ Back to Homepage ⭅

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ Next Blog ⇨

[codename-number3]

Stay, a KuroTsuki fanfic

(I posted this before I posted the story on my ao3 account so if you want to read more click the link for the story https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498505/chapters/59136202)

Chapter 1

A mess. Those were the only two words that were able to wholeheartedly explain the situation. The yelling, the screaming, the tears, the heartbreak. Everything was just a mess. Tsukishima Kei never wanted this, but he knew for weeks that it was coming. He knew what he would see on the other end of the door. He knew of the fight that had brewing for months, and he's known of the cause for much too long. The blond haired middle blocker thought that he was prepared for what he was about to see. But nothing could prepare the nineteen year old boy for the sight of the love of his life, sweaty and panting on top of someone that wasn't him. They didn't notice him at first, well at least, one of them didn't. Kei made eye contact with the brunette with the boobs that were too lopsided to even be remotely real, otherwise known as his boss. And then she gave him a look, a look that conveyed one simple emotion. Pride.

She was proud. She was proud that her own worker caught her underneath his boyfriend. She was proud of what she had been doing with the raven haired boy for months now. There was not an ounce of shame in the older woman. In fact she thought, what was there to be ashamed of? She did no luring, she didn't even try to seduce the man that was pumping into her at this very moment. She only comforted. He arrived at her doorstep late one night, drunk off his ass and mumbling on about how Tsukishima was always at work. To tell the truth, she kept piling work onto the young boy in hopes that his senpai's patience would finally run dry. And one night it did, and she made sure to pick up the pieces. The first time, she was told it would be the last. Then the second, was a "mistake". Soon enough, he stopped giving excuses. Accepting that he found pleasure in his sins. Immediately after they fucked, he got out of bed, put his clothes on, and left without another word. There was an unsaid rule that the brunette was forced to follow, no kissing. None on the neck, chest, cheek, and especially not the lips. She never questioned his reasoning, there was no need to. As long as she still got her pleasure out of it all, it didn't matter.

When she made eye contact with the lanky figure she smirked, licked her lips, and whispered something just loud enough for both boys to hear, "Tetsu, I love you."

The golden orbs widened in shock, his once bright eyes filled with so much hurt and pain, that they overfilled; with fresh tears running down his face the athlete ran. Ignoring the shouts to stop, the pleas to wait, and the guilt ridden apologies, he ran. He wouldn't give Testurou the satisfaction of seeing him cry. So that night, with a trail of tears and broken promises following, Kei ran to Nekoma. It was stupid, he thought. Finding comfort in the place where he had met the person responsible for his broken heart. Kei still remembered the training camp like it was yesterday. He still remembered the hushed whispers, the heated kisses, the late night movies, and most importantly, his laugh. That god forsaken laugh. At first, Kei couldn't stand it. He found it irritating and far too obnoxious. But as time went on, it grew to be the most beautiful melody that tugged at all the right heart strings.

~Flashback~

"Hey, hey, hey!" The voiced roared through Gym 3 as Akaashi followed quietly behind. The two were met with silence as the setter sighed.

"Where the hell are those two this time?"

Little did they know, they were right there. Well, in the storage closet. Kei lightly pushes Tetsurou away to try and meet with their fellow peers but the raven haired boy takes that as a sign to suck harder on the light-toned skin.

"Tetsu, we have to go," Kei quietly moans out, trying to sound stern but not being able to deny himself the pleasure of being claimed by his senpai.

The golden-eyed boy is met with a pair of lustful eyes and in that moment, ignoring all better judgement, he pulls the dominating figure closer and wraps his legs around his waist. The two had been make-out buddies ever since the first night of camp. Both boys with a case of insomnia wandered around the school until their fates collided. And ever since then they've been intoxicated by the simple presence of one another.

Tetsu tugged a bit on the plain white t-shirt, asking for permission from his kohai. This was the first time the pair had ever ventured this far. Everything inside of him was telling him to say no, to reject the middle blocker's advances; but his eyes showed nothing but concern, his touch laced with care and his stance ready to back off if given any sign of discomfort from his partner.

Before Kei was able to give him an answer Tetsurou removed his hand and leaned in. At first the blond thought he was going in for a kiss and was confused on why he stopped when their foreheads met. They stayed like that for a while, neither knowing what to say.

Tetsurou opened his mouth to apologize for his actions but before he could say anything Bokuto kicks open the door, shedding light into the confided space.

"Aha! I knew it, they were fraternizing again," Bokuto exclaims, running away soon after with Tetsurou chasing after him. Leaving Kei leaning against a cart of volleyballs, still trying to comprehend what happened only moments before. After catching his breath he walks onto the volleyball court to see Bokuto on the floor with a cackling raven-haired captain standing over him.

The second that their eyes meet, the older boy turns away. Ashamed of his actions and disappointed in himself for pushing when Kei clearly wasn't ready. It was a simple misunderstanding between the two. The shorter of the pair believing that Tetsurou was frustrated with him for not wanting more. That's how the rest of the day went. Whenever there was the slightest bit of interaction between the two middle blockers, one or the other would find a way to quickly escape the situation.

During the practice matches, neither did well with their thoughts clouded by what happened this morning. The fear of losing one another sinking in and making its roots. The blond reasoned with himself that he wasn't afraid of losing Testurou, just scared of not having anyone to let his frustrations out on. He wasn't gay, he told himself. He couldn't be. The only reason that he felt any form of attraction towards his senpai was because of his annoyance with every one else at the camp. Their sessions were only a venting mechanism that was bound to fail sometime. But then Kei looked at him, his concentration on the match and the grin on his face, and his heart skipped a beat. His mind went blank and he just stared in awe of how captivating the Nekoma captain looked with that glint of excitement in his eyes and his tongue dangling slightly out of his mouth as he analyzed everything that was happening on the court.

Tetsurou catches the younger boy's gaze and holds it, unfamiliar with the look in his eyes. It was; different. Sure he's seen Kei blush out of pleasure and embarrassment, but he just couldn't figure out what was different this time. Before he could put any more thought into it, the rooster-haired boy turns in response to the shouts of his teammates and is met with a face full of volleyball. Kei couldn't help but laugh at the sight. And in that moment, Kuroo Tetsurou decided that he would do anything to hear that laugh again. He didn't care if he got hit with ten more volleyballs and had to sprint up that stupid hill, it was the most imperfectly perfect sound he'd ever heard.

He was escorted to the nurse by the team manager and Kei had no other choice but to pay attention to the match. Every block felt good, relieving him of his stress but no matter what he couldn't stop himself from worrying about Tetsurou. In the back of his mind he knew that he was going to be okay, it was only a nosebleed; but, there was that looming thought of him getting hurt that stuck with him the rest of the afternoon. Kei thought about this morning, and wondered if Tetsurou was starting to get bored of the same old makeouts. And if soon, he would start getting bored with him.

After all the practice games were over, Kei ended up on his porch. He was gladly welcomed in by the boy's parents and made his way up the stairs. He walked into his room with a heavy heart, and pushed the standing figure onto his bed. The blond was now moving quick. Taking both their shirts off before Tetsurou could even bat an eye. His mouth traveled quickly down from his neck to his tan v-line. This wasn't right, something wasn't right. The raven-haired teenager couldn't even process what was happening before feeling a tug at his belt buckle. Before he could say anything to stop the fast-paced undressing, Kei crashed his lips against his. The kiss being different than others, desperate and messy, giving Tetsurou no time to kiss back. It wasn't slow, it wasn't passionate, it wasn't right. It was rushed and needy. The feeling of something wet made the narrow-eyed boy pull back, to the sight of a crying blond hovering over him. 

"I-I'm sorry," Kei muttered, head hanging in shame.

Tetsurou gave him a light smile and carefully lifted his chin up, "I never want you to be sorry for something that you're not ready for. Promise me something," he paused, waiting for confirmation from the younger boy. When given a short nod he continues on, "Promise me that you won't do something that you're not sure of just because you think I expect it from you."

Kei is shocked once again by the third year's careful consideration for him. He leans in slowly and connects their lips. There was less nerves compared to the previous kiss, and much more care. Kei cupped Tetsurou's face with his hands and deepened the kiss, skillfully capturing the third year's bottom lip in his and playfully biting down on the soft flesh. Tetsurou wrapped his arms around the thin figure and pulled him onto his lap, reciprocating with the same amount of passion. Kei opened his mouth ever so slightly, giving Tetsurou's tongue just enough room to deepen the kiss even more. It felt as if Kei didn't have any oxygen left in his lungs, but was unwilling to stop in order to catch his breath. Their lips molded perfectly into one another as their senses were spiraling out of control. They kept on closing the distance that separated them with an urge to be a close as possible before there was little to no distance between the two. Skin against skin as their kisses became more heated. Despite all that was going on, neither had any intention of going further. 

They finally broke apart moments after, gasping for breath with a string of saliva connecting the two swollen lips. While Kei was still trying to catch his breath, Tetsurou began planting light kisses down his neck. He stopped at his collarbone and began moving back up to his ear. When reaching the final destination he takes Kei's earlobe and softly bites on the boy's sensitive spot. Kei couldn't help but moan and dug his nails into Tetsurou's shoulder.

He continued placing delicate kisses all over Kei's face and whispered something ever so softly that it almost went unheard, "I love you."

[bazzybelle]

Carry On Countdown - Day Five

Notes: I wanted to write a Natasha inspired fic. I wanted to write a sweet fic involving her since her life was so intense and sadly cut way too short. Title inspired by “A Million Dreams” from The Greatest Showman soundtrack. 

Thank you @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for the beta-read. Also, so many thanks for the people who have been commenting and reblogging my work. I’m still a newbie here, and the love that everyone has been showing me is so wonderful.

Day 5 Prompt: Carry On Prequel

Title: A Million Dreams

________________________________________________________________

Every night I lie in bed, the brightest colours fill my head. A million dreams are keeping me awake.

NATASHA

June 14th, 1996

Positive.

Those two little blue lines, so simple, so plain. Yet they hold such a profound weight that I feel the need to take a moment to collect my thoughts. It does not do well for Natasha Pitch to come undone on account of two little blue lines. Still, I find myself sitting at my desk in my grand Watford Headmistress’ office, in absolute disbelief as I hold onto the pregnancy test in my hands. 

Positive. 

I had taken the test as soon as I suspected that something was off. I am like clockwork in every single aspect of my life. Never tardy, never irregular, never out of balance. So, when my monthly cycle skipped, I knew. I took the test (in between several Coven meetings at Watford - I am a very busy woman), and kept myself concealed in my ensuite lavatory (being Headmistress has its perks) as I waited for the results. 

Positive. 

I am pregnant. 

Alright. That was easy to admit.

If I had to guess, I could not be more than a few weeks along, a month at best. I should probably go see a doctor at some point, to verify that I am indeed with child. But honestly there were never any truly good doctors for magicians. There was Charles Wellbelove, who was making quite a name for himself amongst the Coven. I was considering it. He would have to be extremely discreet about the nature of my visits. I could not afford the good news getting out until I was ready to announce it. While the birth of a potential heir to the Pitch estate was a happy occasion, there would be others who would try to use my pregnancy (as well as my new maternal role) as a means to steal influence and discredit me.

It was bloody nonsense. 

Still, it would be prudent to keep the news a secret, for as long as possible. I shall obviously tell Malcolm as soon as possible. I had thought to maybe tell him that night. I am not the romantic sort, I honestly do not have time to be romantic. I will tell him in private, in our bedroom. Possibly in front of our fireplace, while holding his hands. 

Fine, I suppose I am a little romantic. 

I imagine Malcolm will be very happy with the news. We have been trying for a child for the last year, so Malcolm would be very much pleased with the good news. Personally, a part of me would have liked to wait a little bit more. I have been in the middle of several research projects, as well as revamping some of the programs offered at Watford. I had wanted to look into more classes involving music and poetry. I was hoping that the future generations of magicians could find a way to make musical magic more stable. I was also looking into offering more linguistics classes at Watford. There was still so much about the nature of our magic that we still did not know nor did we understand. Besides, deep down I, Natasha Pitch, am a scholar. I have always been that way. I can be the head of a dozen organizations and run everything and anything that the Coven needs me to, but at the end of the day, I live for reading and researching topics that deeply speak to me. 

Maybe this little one will follow my passions as well. That would be nice, to have another scholar in the family. 

I should probably tell Fiona, but my sister can barely keep a secret to save her life. I am starting to worry about my younger, more carefree sister. Fiona is not keeping the right sort of company and it worries me to no end. It is highly improper to trapeze about amongst the Normals, causing mayhem and anarchy wherever she goes. She will be graduating from Watford this year, and she needs to figure out what she wants to do with her life. She cannot spend the rest of her days living off the family’s money. 

But, Fiona is a worry for another day. I will most likely tell her. She is my baby sister after all, and despite my worries and apprehension, it will be better if I share my news with her. I can already hear Fiona’s snarky comments and her suggestions that I name the child Bowie or Cyndi. 

My sister is absurd. 

My hand moves tentatively to my stomach. I am pregnant. It is still a little bit of a shock to me. I will never admit this to anybody, but the idea of carrying a tiny life is terrifying. Are Malcolm and I ready to bring this child into the world? Neither one of us has had very warm childhoods. That life is not something I want for my child. Will I know how to provide the comfort and security of a safe family life? I truly do not know. 

I shake my head to rid myself of these negative thoughts. Pitches do not hide and second guess themselves. Pitches dive headfirst into adversity and fight. They fight until they cannot fight anymore. That was how I led my life thus far and it has done wonders for me. I will have no choice but to dive into motherhood in the same way and to trust my instincts with raising this little one. 

I become startled as my office door bursts open. I grab my wand, but I already know who has come to disturb me. There is only one person who would stride inside my office so fearlessly.

“There are so many stuffy old men hanging around your office, Tasha! Honestly, it would do you some good to get a few nice young lads around here!”

“What do you want, Fiona? Shouldn’t you be in the dining hall? Or at your drama lessons?”

“Drama lessons are cancelled dear sister. It’s the end of term! Which is also why I’m here! I am saving you from your stuffy meetings with the stuffy old men!” Fiona waves her hands over her head and attempts a small dramatic spin. 

I roll my eyes at her. Fiona is not one for propriety, but she is one for theatrics. Merlin help this child if Fiona will be allowed to influence it. I have plenty of difficulty handling one overly dramatic Pitch, let alone two. 

Fiona stalks over to where I am sitting. She is about to grab my hands when she notices the small stick on the desk. Before I can grab and hide it, Fiona jumps on it. 

Her grey eyes widen as she stares at the double lines. A full smile slowly spreads across her lips. I sigh. So much for Malcolm being the first to know.

“Tasha. Have you got a bun in the oven?”

I yank the stick from Fiona’s hands and throw it back into the desk. I then grab Fiona by the arm and start to lead her out of my office. “Fiona, I swear to Merlin if you tell ANYONE about this, I will personally see to it that you spend the remainder of your days eating your meals through a straw!”

“Oh come off it, Tasha! Who would I tell?” Fiona tears her arm away from me as I raise an eyebrow.

“Your delinquent friends for one!” Fiona rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. I am not amused by my sister’s laissez-faire attitude regarding my pregnancy. And of course she is not as worried as I am. Fiona never has anything to lose, being the second born and all. Fiona can afford to blabber about, and ignore common sense, so long as I am there to clean up her messes. Well, I cannot risk Fiona making yet another mess. 

“I mean it, Fiona. Give me your hand and swear that you will not tell anyone about this. I cannot afford to let this news reach the rest of the Coven until I am ready to announce it.”

Fiona shakes her head and grabs her own wand from the inside of her shirt sleeve. She takes my hand and offers her wand to me. I am the stronger magician out of the two of us. I tap the wand to our joined hands. “An Englishwoman’s word is her bond!” Fiona pulls her hand away and rubs it. 

“Christ Tasha! That spell? The last time you used that spell, I couldn’t feel my hand for a month!”

I smirk at my troublesome sister: “First of all, it wasn’t my fault you chose to sneak into my bedroom after promising me you wouldn’t. Second of all, I always did love that spell. Now, please leave. I am very busy.” I head towards the door. I am about to open it, when Fiona blocks it with her foot, slamming it shut again. 

“Just tell me one thing, sister. You are going to call the kid Bowie if it’s a boy, right? I’ll be burnt at the bloody stake before I let my favourite niece or nephew get one of those pompous ancient names that our family loves so much!” I force open the door and roughly shove my sister outside. I can hear Fiona laughing as I slam the door in her face. 

A deep sigh escapes my lips. I rub my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I had not planned on Fiona knowing so soon, but I suppose it is better this way. It does feel good to have someone else know about the baby. And the spell I cast should give me plenty of assurance that Fiona will not spill the beans. Fiona hated not being able to use her hand for a month, she will not risk that punishment again. 

I still have a few more meetings scheduled for the rest of the day. They are to discuss funding for the next year, as well as contract negotiations and potential additions to the Watford library. All important and interesting topics to discuss and ponder over for hours on end. Discussions that would probably be better left for a different time. Maybe, for this one time, I can afford to take an evening to myself and my husband. An evening to tell him that our lives have changed for the better. That we will soon be expanding our family (in fact, we will be starting our new family). 

I hear another knock on her door. One of the younger magicians, a man named David, is waiting for me, with furrowed eyebrows, and an angry scowl on his face. 

“Headmistress Pitch. The other Coven members are waiting for you.”

“Thank you David. I won’t be much longer.” 

I gather myself and head towards the room that is used for Coven gatherings. It is a small room, with a long oval-shaped table, and twenty seats (one for each member of the Coven). I take my place at the head of the table and look at each Coven member’s bored, exhausted face. It has been a long day. No one will fault me for cancelling the rest of the meetings. I inhale a deep breath and address the stuffy old men. 

“Gentlemen. I thank you for joining me. I know that we have all had a very long and trying day. I think it would be in everyone’s best interest that we take the remainder of the evening off and reconvene tomorrow. We can all benefit from a good night’s rest before beginning discussions about literature and budgets. Yes?”

I let out a small sigh of relief when the other Coven members agree with me. They all quickly rise from their seats and begin to file out of the room. I follow behind them and walk back to my office. I sit at my desk once more and pull the pregnancy test out.

I am going to be a mother. I think to myself. I rub my stomach and smile. I turn to the phone on my desk and dial the number to the Hampshire Manor. Malcolm should have been working from home today. A smile spreads on my lips as I hear the voice of my husband on the end of the line. 

“Malcolm, darling? I am coming home early tonight. I have something to tell you. It’s important.”

[ba-mi-soro-orisha]

Tomi Adeyemi wants to wrap her readers in a “dangerous but warm” blanket. Her young adult novels—the hit epic Children of Blood and Bone and its highly anticipated new sequel, Children of Virtue and Vengeance—combine escapist fantasy with clear-eyed confrontations of race and power. “I was thinking: you’re creating a Snuggie,” the Nigerian-American author tells TIME. “It’s a violent Snuggie, but create the Snuggie.”

Adeyemi’s first book, which came out in 2018 and has spent 90 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list, transports readers to the kingdom of Orïsha, where teenager Zélie Adebola is determined to bring magic back to her oppressed people. In the novel inspired by West Africa, Adeyemi’s protagonist teams up with a rogue princess to help fight the monarchy, which mercilessly wiped out magic years before in order to gain more power. In the sequel, Zélie discovers that the progress that she made in the first book has complicated ramifications, leading the kingdom toward a brutal civil war. Both novels are bruising accounts of unthinkable violence and persecution, evocative of bigger, real-world conversations about suffering and survival.

Children of Virtue and Vengeance is the second book in Adeyemi’s fantasy trilogy, which was part of a reported seven-figure deal that the Harvard graduate signed in 2017. The film rights for Children of Blood and Bone were acquired by Fox 2000 before the book’s release and over the summer This is Us writer Kay Oyegun signed on to write the script. Adeyemi spoke to TIME about how the past three years have changed her life, her dream cast for the movie and what she hopes her young readers come to understand about the world through her books.

TIME: In your author’s note at the end of Children of Blood and Bone, you explicitly explain how the plot connects to police brutality in America. What do you hope your readers learn about racism and power from your writing?

The whole thing started out as me wanting to explore the emotional PTSD of feeling like maybe I’m not Trayvon Martin, maybe I’m not Sandra Bland, but there’s nothing that separates me from being Sandra Bland. I felt like that wasn’t being talked about, even within black communities. So, I had to write about it as self-therapy. Because I was having anxiety attacks every time I was getting into my car and that’s every day. It was sort of making people realize that this stuff—constantly being exposed to people like me being shot, being assaulted, being harassed, being put at gunpoint—is trauma.

So, that’s book one. I wanted people to empathize. Many of these issues come from dehumanization and a lot of dehumanization is a direct result of no-to-poor representation. If your only exposure to a person of color is as the villain in this or that, then psychologically that is activated when you are doing something with a person of color. I had a friend say, “What if Harry Potter had been black?” If the Boy Who Lived was black, then does Trayvon Martin get shot? Because that’s someone you empathize with. Fought for. Cried for. Someone you feel like you’ve gone into battle with. And that extends to the person you see and say, “Oh, that guy looks like Harry.” Humans are that simple.

For book two, I created my dominoes and I’ve just got to throw them and see where they land. It was more organic to the story, but what I was exploring, again, are things that real people have gone through—that they are going through today, that they will go through all the time. My books are about pain, but hopefully foster empathy.

Children of Virtue and Vengeance begins with an unexpected twist. Though Zélie has restored magic to the oppressed people of Orïsha, the monarchy and military now have magical powers, too. Why was it important to you to show people who abuse their power gaining even more?

It’s in two parts: one is a life lesson and one is a lesson about society. The life lesson is we always have goals—which are important because they add a purpose to our lives—but when you achieve a goal, it’s never quite what you expect. It’s also a commentary on the nature of power in general. The older I get, the more I learn about the world and its institutions. There are entire systems built on oppression and class. There are things you will probably never get enough wealth and power to topple. But what I believe you can do is move the needle. If you look in the book, you can get magic back—but the problem wasn’t really magic. It was the institution. Because even when you had magic, you were oppressed. Now, you have magic again and guess what? You’re still oppressed. It’s about learning that these are institutions that are very hard to completely overthrow—but that doesn’t mean you can’t make great change.

How do you find that fantasy and magic can help us understand our reality?

I wrote stories without magic as a kid, and then I read my first Harry Potter book and I never went back. If you could do anything in a book—and this is not a knock on contemporary writers, it’s just for me, personally—I don’t want to write about that awkward first kiss. Let’s go! Am I shooting lightning out of my forehead when I blink? You can do anything. I just always loved magic, fantasy and adventure. Growing up, I appreciated the psychological power of fantasy, but I didn’t go into it as this powerful tool to effect change and make people think. I’m like, “I like big lions!” Sometimes, it’s deep. Sometimes, it’s “lions are cool.”

Why do you write for young people?

I don’t change my writing style or plot. The only part of my work that I change because I am labeled as a young adult author is making sure that everything in my book is a clear example of something good or something bad. Let me eliminate the gray area. Writing for younger audiences doesn’t mean it has to be all good or all clean. It does a huge disservice to pretend that childhood means that you get a pass on trauma. A lot of trauma, I think, happens in childhood and then gets carried into adulthood. Then, that trauma creates trauma. So, you’ve got to both address it and heal it—early.

But I have to be really clear about what’s good and what’s bad. For a scene where things get romantic, I take alcohol out of the equation because I’m not trying to give an example of a gray zone of consent. This is supposed to be a positive example of two consenting people making a choice. Those are the kinds of decisions that I’ll change because it’s YA, but my readers are 8 to 80. So much YA crosses over; they are really exciting stories on the surface, and then underneath the best ones have such incredible things to say about the world. YA readers are also the most passionate readers. Look, I’ve talked about Harry Potter 18 times today. If you love something when you are young, that’s a part of you forever. Those stories are always in that warm, fuzzy part of your heart that the world tries to freeze over. To get to be that for so many young readers, to get to see their passion and enthusiasm and creativity, it’s the best.

Do you know how the trilogy will end?

I knew the ending before I even hit book one. I’ve been excited to write book three.

Are you in the process of writing it?

Hell no. It’s been three years, back to back. Even before I got my book deal, I wrote the first draft of Children of Blood and Bone in a month, then I wrote the second draft in a month and I did it that fast because I wanted to get into a writing competition. I kept thinking there was going to be a break in the process, but it only accelerated from that impossible speed to publication and book two went even further. So, I’m healing right now. I’m learning to sleep. I’m learning to wake up.

How have the last three years changed you?

I was a baby adult when I got into this. Now, I feel like a 60-year-old woman. I’m less self-conscious. I’m like, this what I need and I’m not asking your permission, I’m just letting you know. It’s a different energy. It’s a different swagger. But I like this version of myself. She wasn’t always there—she was forged through incredible pain and suffering, but she’s here. And she’s ready to go.

In 2017, it was announced that Children of Blood and Bone will be adapted for film. What has that process been like for you?

It’s been really cool because it’s with Disney/Fox and Lucas Films. It’s been three years and even though the team has shifted and grown, just to have so many people at the top of their game so passionate and excited and enthusiastic about bringing my world [to the screen], it’s ridiculous. I made that world up in my head, in my room, super sweaty, my hair looked like crazy, I was in my pajamas. I’m like, this is going to be that? It’s really wild.

Do you have a dream cast in mind?

I used to have a dream cast and then Black Panther came out. I was so in love with Letitia Wright and Winston Duke. How cool is it going to be to put more incredible black actors and actresses on the scene? To make roles this epic, this powerful—like Jennifer Lawrence, obviously she had Winter’s Bone, but we got her from The Hunger Games. It’s very cool that I mic-dropped this as my calling card and now this is going to be so many other people’s calling cards. The only person—and I’m comfortable doing this because he was on my Pinterest Board from the jump and I’ve mentioned this enough that at this point if it doesn’t happen, you do what you can—for King Saran in Book One, I had pictures of Idris Elba. And every time I was writing a scene with him, I pictured Idris Elba to really get my head into how scary it was to be near him.

[joyfulprincessdragonlover54]

Do you have a favorite book--one that you could read multiple times? If not, what about a movie or tv show?

Hello again my friend.   Was this meant to exclude How to Train Your Dragon (or Disney/Pixar) so you could hear about what other pieces of fiction I am a massive fan of that don’t appear on my Tumblr?  If so, I still have answers for you.  But being brutually honest though.  The How to Train Your Dragon trilogy is my all time favorite story.  Never could tire of it. If you want I can always send you the link to my “What HTTYD means to Me” post through the pm system.  Even if that one is older and in need of polishing.  That’s up to you.   But back to other options you might be curious to hear about.   

My all time favorite novel (rather in this case it is a novella) is Washiongton Square by Henry James.  A rather simple plot to be spun out about how a plain looking young heiress in mid 1800′s New York comes into conflict between her domineering father and a man she is infatuated with is really a gold digger. This is where I discovered that books are treasures beyond comphrension.  When plots such as this that are considered so simple can in fact be filled with absorbing descriptions and crackling dialogue. Only to later to discover what kind of pungent questions they leave you with in their wake.  It has capitvated me for the past decade.  Henry’s prose is so elegant but his characters speak with such a force I find it addicting to re-visit.  Granted I also admit that the way people spoke in older centuries is fascinating as it is. But there’s something mind boggling as it is delightful to read what Mr. James put into a narrative.  This one in particular of his earlier publications holds my attenition because of his minisucle details to recognzing women’s lack of rights and the instintcual desire to garner freedom without ever going full fledged blunt on this controversial topic at the time is an artistic approach to such a signifcant matter.  Unlike another famous (and infamous) story called The Doll House by Henrik Ibsen who was so direct with this it gave the audience whiplash.  Henry James was so gentle and subtle it needed time to simmer but he was being vocal about the concerns of a woman’s position in society.  The questions I myself still ponder about what would have happened to me if I was born back then and would I have been more like this story’s leading lady. Who starts off the epitome of a damsel in distress who is so meak it makes contempories today feel sick to their stomoach. Only for her arc to forge from that pestering Mary Sue type into a person while deemed a “spinster” in that time period to what many today would call a heroine.  Her transition from stereotypical timid shy girl who blushes into a woman who defies society’s expectations without ever being crass about it is a deeply rewarding story to read in my opinion.  

The film I can re-watch and never tire of now that I think about it shares configurations to Washington Square on a philosphical level.   It’s also considered to be one of the 2000′s biggest film flops and most hated by mainstream audiences.  For good measure, it also infuriated historians.  Needless to say that ever since I saw this film in the cinema back in 2005. It has touched me profoudly.  Even if the screenplay took liberties.  Then again, I still love watching Disney’s Pocahontas and not feel guilty about it. Now you may be asking yourself what does that have to do with anything? Well the film I am referring to is called The New World.  A film that dives into the account of her life on a longer and heavier scale.  Released more then a decade after Disney tackeled their own version. Acclaimed filmmaker and writer Terrance Malick (who actually did enjoy the Disney film much to the suprise of many)   decided he would take his dormant script he started to brainstorm in the late 70′s  and bring into life on his own terms.  Now I’m not sure if you are familiar with any of Mr. Malick’s work.  But he has a very specific form of shooting and editing his movies.  In a nutshell, his films  are considered slow and even dull by the mainstream as there is very little dialogue, action and even his  color scheme is mostly made up of brown and/or grey.  He also likes to hone in on what are seemingly random shots of nature. Leaves blowing in the wind, sunlight coming in through the tree branches and water flowing in creeks. But for me. This presnentation of filmmaking for this story was poetic.  I loved how it evolved with a film score that was essentially a collection of classical music and only occasional narration by it’s lead characters.  The editing of Pocahontas’s journey as a free spirited young teen into a woman as she encounters a life filled with fascinating discovery, sensual desire, agonizing despair, new found love and the resurrgence of joy.  Q’orianka Kilcher who portrays her in the film is outstanding! It was her acting debut but you would never know it with how she carries the weight of the film by her shoulders. It was effortless.  The film features a great ensamble cast spead out by people Pocahontas meets and is surround by over the years. They include Colin Farrel, Christopher Plummer, Christian Bale, August Schellenberg, Wes Studi, and David Thewlis. All are commendable. Still, this story belongs to Ms. Kilcher’s character and she does an exquiste job of holding the story thread together. I try to keep my opinion from venturing into the “This should have had an Oscar” chatter. Not in this case however.  I saw all of the leading actresses that held the main accolade attention that year.  All were great in their own right but I would be lying if I said I didn’t believe that there were performances that were over-rated. Q’orianka did something so magnificent (and bare in mind she did it while internalizing dialague)  she created a full flesh and blood human being whose story is now legend and gave it 1000% soul.  I can’t say that every woman nominated provided that. There’s also a quote (from the novel Corelli’s Mandolin) that I love to share with people when I like to describe how the screenplay juggled the love triangle in this story.  The maturity and depth of how it unfurled and evolved I find that most romance stories lack.  “Love is like a volcano. It errupts and then subsides. When it subsides you have to make a decision.  You have to decide if your roots are entwinded together that it is inconceivable should ever part. For that is what love is. It is not breathless. It is not excitement. It is not the promulgation of eternal passion. For that is just ‘being in love’ which any of us can convince ourselves we are.  Love itself is what’s left over after ‘being in love’ has burned away. “  This quote matches ideally to this specifc film’s theme of love and how to value it. I really do think this is one of the greatest represenations of love for not only another person.  But for re-discovering one’s self-identity in a world that craves to put constraints on it.  This film may be at times emotionally difficult to watch but seeing it unfold and going through all of these heartaches to come out the other side makes me feel as if I have had a reprieve. I love how Terrance Malick’s off kilter filming and editing depicts this beautiful age old adage.   :)  

[ohsupernaturall]

LAB RATS (A NALEY FANFICTION) PROLOGUE

I will try to dedicate every chapter to either an account or a person I like, because we all need to share the love. My first tribute goes to @lozkelly , we don’t know each other, but as I browsed the naley tag, hers was the first post and when I opened the blog, it was so much fun. So there we go. Please note that if you are tagged, I am not asking you to read. I just want to give you a random I love you (and/or) your account

Prologue

Nathan and Haley couldn’t remember a moment in their lives where they weren’t in love, and everyone in tree hill was aware of that. They had gone through every life stage together, starting with waddles in the sandpit at three years of age, until seventeen as he put a ring on her finger when she happily accepted to be his wife. But it was indeed an off match, for all their love, they couldn’t be more different. Nathan was star athlete of tree hill high school, leading the basketball ravens to victory in the state championship. On the other hand, Haley James Scott was the school valedictorian, who tutored students for the joy of it.

In this sense, they balanced each other out, and they evened the others’ extremities. Haley has gotten into cheerleading; realizing it was actually quite the strenuous activity rather than mindless girls waving around pompoms, and Nathan would occasionally pay more attention in class, not that he didn’t have his own private tutor whenever he needed.

Standing right below the hoop in the school gym; his own grounds, it was a win-or-lose moment; if he scored that basket they win the championship. And then there she was, Haley with a proud smile that beat the taunting of his opponent Damien West

“You got nothing, Scott, nothing!”

Nathan looked at Damien with a cocky smile, drawing strength from Haley, he threw the ball, without looking; his faith that the world will make it worth it, for him and his girl, was prominent.  The cheers were deafening, and Nathan didn’t need to look, to know that he had made the shot, when Haley crashed right into him.

He lifted her off the ground, into his strong arms, her breath tickled his ear as she screamed over the crowd “you did it, babe!!!”

“We did it!” he rejoiced, repeatedly kissing her shoulder, before he was hauled away by his teammates. Haley patted his back playfully as he was lifted on their shoulders, the whole gym cheering his name, and she joined right along.

The celebration lasted long enough, with Nathan high-fiving everyone in sight, receiving the trophy and stealing Haley’s hugs and kisses; those were his favorite. Then it was time to go home. Their little apartment was warm and cozy, not very luxurious, but it brought them together at night and that was what mattered.

It might have not been like that, Nathan was rich, coming from an incredibly wealthy family of three… actually technically four, before his sister had passed,  he had cried in Haley’s arms night after night when it happened; the chauffer was taking the fourteen year old to ballet practice, then the next thing they knew, the car had exploded, the monstrosity of the accident was investigated  for a long time before declared a cold case, ,many people ruled it to be payback for Dan Scott’s antics, their father, for many people had beef with him. Still, the fact that the kids paid for it, made Haley’s blood boil. Dan was remorseful for a month or so, but then he managed to bounce back as if nothing had ever happened,

Nathan on the other hand, was never the same; they used to play together all the time, along with Haley of course. As a matter of fact, it was her who had blandly declared that he and Haley had a crush on each other.

Of course almost hitting puberty and going through the awkward phases of; acne and hormonal urges for him, braces and frizzy hair for her, reluctance to see each other again, and a desire to kill his sister were there. Nathan and Haley have been best friends since they were three years old, and the notion of their relationship not working out would mean the friendship over. But why wouldn’t it work? They loved each other, more than life itself, always have ever since they met, a deep understanding ran through them and even their friends thought it hard to believe that someone would find their soul mate at such a young age.

So, one summer night as raindrops hit the road, he timidly whispered those three words “I love you” and Haley’s entire face lit up, she jumped in his arms and crashed her lips to his. Overcome with relief and joy, he had entrapped her arms under his, wrapping both arms around her and lifted her up, spinning in circles as the rain poured over their heads. It was then that they knew, forever was together.

When he had told his dad of his plans to marry Haley, Dan was appalled, for she didn’t come from money or status. Hurtful words were thrown around and as soon as his father had said “gold-digging whore”, Nathan stormed out of there, after he threw a punch to the old man’s face. Haley’s parents had welcomed him for the two and a half weeks it took to find a place of his own, also a small job in food service and a night shift at his uncle’s garage made emancipation easy, especially when drug addicted mother was added to the list, Nathan felt bad about it, he loves his mom, but she had fallen through a downward spiral ever since her daughter had died, especially when Nathan needed her most.

Their wedding was simple and special, Haley didn’t even have a wedding dress, and her mother’s wouldn’t fit, so she wore a little white sundress with slippers, and Nathan got dressed in one of the suits he wore for the fancy events his dad threw. Being poor may not be easy, but being with the person you love was worth it all, even those nights when electricity would shut off after they don’t pay the bills; and they would sit up all night playing checkers by candlelight, and the nights when he worked until he couldn’t even move, Haley would come back from her shift as a waitress and remove his shoes and overalls when she finds him collapsed on the couch from exhaustion.

As soon as they entered through the front door, Nathan grabbed her arms, spinning her around, so she would land in his arms; Haley sighed, content, as she nestled into his warm strong body. His hand snuck under her cheerleading top, calloused fingers running across bare stomach. Haley bit her lips, eyes fluttering and body tingling, she leaned the back of her head against his chest, pulling his other hand to her lips and planting soft butterfly kisses where his pulse is.

“Oh, Nathan!” she moaned, as he leaned down and brushed his lips against her jaw line; over a  beauty mark, finally reaching her ear and nibbling on the lobe “I love you”

“I love you too, Haley James Scott” he whispered huskily, his kisses moving to the nape of her neck and then down her back, all the way till he was kneeling, planting a lingering kiss on the “23” tattoo she had gotten for him; his jersey number.

Weak in the knees, Haley shakily turned around, Nathan’s kissing never stopping, planting them all around her waist, she scratched his back and head, folding in half over his shoulder. Smoothly, she took off the basketball jersey, as he stood up once more, pulling her with him, her feet lifted off the ground, Haley wrapped her legs and arms around him, so tight, that you would think they were conjoined. Nathan moved them both to the shower.

Haley’s breath hitched, watching the steady stream of water run down Nathan’s sculpted chest and chiseled abs, he poured some shampoo in his hand, massaging her scalp as she kissed his chest, right by his heart, once and again. He moved his shampoo covered hands down her face, leaving a trail of bubbles on her cheeks, making her look up into his sky blue eyes.

“My man played so well tonight” she said.

“Yeah, he did, didn’t he?” Nathan winked at her and she playfully smacked him.

“Babe, be serious. The scouts couldn’t keep their eyes off you. I saw one talking to Whitey”

He shrugged “That could mean a lot of thi…”

“And I might have eavesdropped and heard them say you were a shoo-in for a full scholarship ride to Duke” she interjected, eyes wide innocently.

“Are you serious?”

Haley nodded, squealing with joy, as he hugged her tight, lifting her off her feet.

“What would you do without me?” she teased.

“Die!” he said, kissing her passionately “never leave me”

“I am not going anywhere” she whispered sincerely “always and forever”

“Always and forever”

They spent the next few minutes scrubbing loofahs over each other’s bodies, on every curve, their heart warm and content. In his arms, Nathan held a woman who loved him in spite of all his flaws, who loved the worst in him before the best. He reached out and wrapped a towel around her body, after doing the same for himself, Nathan picked her up, one arm below her knees and the other right under her shoulder blades, and headed to their tiny room.

He dropped her gently on the bed, allowing her towel clad body to bounce on the mattress, and then positioned himself on top of her. Nathan rested his head down her chest, when he felt her tense up.

“Nathan” whispered Haley “did you hear that?”

“What? I didn’t hear anything”

Then sounds of shuffling came from outside once again, and Nathan sat up.

“Do you hear it now?” she asked.

“Mmhmm”

“Should I call 911?” she fearfully whispered to Nathan who was hastily putting on a pair of shorts.

“No, just wait here”

“Nathan!” she warned; her heart in her throat, making to grab his hand “Please!! Just don’t!”

“It is okay” he whispered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

The sounds from outside were coming closer, and Nathan hoped with his heart that it was the neighbor’s cat, it had broken into their house many times before, still, he took one look at Haley behind him and felt his heart hammering against his ribcage, cautiously, he made to grab the baseball bat in the closet. His hands were just twisting the doorknob, when a force sent him sprawling to the ground. Haley screamed at the top of her voice, pulling the towel closer to her body, their bedroom door had flown off its hinges, and in its place stood three masked men armed in machine guns.

“Shut up!” one of them growled, pointing his gun at her.

“Wait! Wait!” panicked Nathan, his eyes fixed on Haley “we don’t have money but take whatever you want, okay, just don’t touch h…”

Sharp pain exploded across his face, as the back of the gun collided with his nose, sending blood splattering in its wake, and Nathan saw stars; his hands went to cover the injury which momentarily hazed his vision.

Haley’s cry of agony was stopped dead in her throat half-way when their guns were once again raised in their faces “Please” she whimpered.

Her plea fell on deaf ears as another one said “get the girl”

Fear gripped Nathan’s heart like a vice, but it was drowned by fury surging through his bloodstream and he growled “No!”

Gone was all the horror of getting shot, Haley being taken away was all he could see. Nathan jumped up and tackled the man coming closer to Haley in great speed, not even shielded with his bat, which was thrown aside upon impact. Nathan had gotten in three punches to the man’s face, when the other two men ganged up on him, their kicks and punches echoed around the small room, all Nathan could do was curl up in a ball and accept the agonizing onslaught, grunting with every blow.

“Stop it” Haley cried in rage, jumping off the bed and on one of the men’s back, he yelped in pain when she caught his ear between her teeth, biting hard, the man threw her off like a weightless doll. Haley’s head rammed into the nightstand and she fell unconscious, crimson blood seeping from her fanned out hair, on her  

“Haley” his voice barely came out in an agonized raspy whisper, choking on blood, as his vision began darkening. Before he completely submitted into the abyss, one of the men made a grab for Haley’s limp form, disregarding her dignity and lifted her over his shoulder.

One thing Nathan knew for sure, he has failed at protecting his wife.

[sabrinasdrafts]

“Pride and Prejudice"

First Impressions, is the original title of Pride and Prejudice, and it is what most people think the novel is about. But, it's really about second chances. Jane Austen is famous for her romantic novels set in Regency England, contrary to popular belief; Jane is more of a realist than a hopeless romantic. She has a firm grip on the necessities of real life and its demands. Pride and Prejudice follows the stories and lives of the Bennet family, with the second eldest daughter as the protagonist; Lizzie Bennet. As far as protagonists go, Lizzie belongs to the A-list. She's relatable to most people, because of her lively attitude, her sense of humor, she's everyone's best friend or the friend you wish you have. Readers feel instantly in love with Lizzie, her mind is active, and her voice is loud throughout the novel. And through the novel, Lizzie's process of thinking is felt, her ideas are told, reasoned with, and expressed through her actions, giving us a glimpse into her feelings.

 The story starts with the arrival of a new family, into the neighborhood, which brings about the issue at play in the novel and at that time in 18th century England, where a young woman's main concern in life is to marry well. Jane Austen here offers a revolutionary premise that a woman can choose her own happiness over securing her future with a comfortable home, and her responsibility towards her family and what's expected of her.

When this eligible bachelor; Mr. Bingley, his sisters, and his friend are introduced into the Bennets society, he takes a shine to Lizzie's older sister; Jane, who is an angel basically, everything that's good and pure, without the over-energized attitudes of Lizzie. While Pride and Prejudice is in all truth a romance novel, it's not about love at first sight, falling head over heels for someone you just met, or a passionate infatuation based on physical attraction. It's about a deep emotional connection between two people, as they get to know one another -and know themselves- better, between Lizzie, and Bingley's best friend; W. Darcy.  While some may construe Pride is Darcy's fault, and Prejudice is Lizzie's, it's not as simple as that. They are both human, and so, in a way flawed, and these are ones of the best characters in literature.  Pride and prejudice are their faults, both of them. Mr. Darcy is prejudiced against the rural society, based on his belief that they are less civilized, less sophisticated, less cultured than he or his usual companions are. So he decides first hand that he wouldn't meet anyone interesting here, no one worth his time, his attention, or even his conversation, so he wastes no effort to act politely, or friendly with anyone he meets. And Lizzie's prejudice against Mr. Darcy is because she overheard him saying she wasn't pretty enough for him, and  while her prejudice is certainly more justified, it is much stronger than his towards her, she holds it firmly for the better part of the first half of the novel, like the line in the 2005 movie adaptation, she admits "that (liking Darcy) would be most inconvenient, since I sworn to loathe him for all eternity." She is slighted by him, she gets hurt and stays mad at him for a long time because of it. Even, without her realizing she's actually decidedly against him, she who delights in her ability to read and judge people, is blinded to his character, because of that encounter.  The story sails off with Jane, and Bingley, falling in love, and her mother's hopes and schemes to get the pairing to wedding aisle, and with that Darcy and Lizzie are forced into being together on several occasions, where Darcy starts to see Lizzie for who she is. And instead of falling for her beauty from the beginning, he begins to appreciate her characters, respect her mind, falls for her easiness and personality. He has a lot of time to observe her, and he starts to fall for her. And when he realized that, he holds back, his pride plays here, but it's reasonable, given his status, his duties, and the expectations of his family to uphold their station. As for Lizzie, she's is set on her judgment of him, when Mr. Wickham walks in, into their lives, he's a charmer, unlike Darcy, whom he has a history with. Wickham's side of their tale paints Darcy as the villain, which soothes Lizzie's account of him.  Jane's story, while started of more pleasantly than Lizzie's, is hindered by the same social restrictions of that era. And, with his sisters' persuasion, Mr. Bingely leaves. The following months has the Bennets in despair, with a broken-hearted Jane, and a bored Lizzie with Wickham's departure. When the dreaded cousin arrives as a guest at their state, he tries to mend the relations by hoping to marry one of the daughters of the man whose house he shall inherit. However, Lizzie puts her own happiness above convenience and rejects him. Months later, Lizzie and Darcy meet again, where he finally gives in and admits his feelings to her, shocking her, and to his own surprise, she rejects him. This is more of a gamble than rejecting her cousin, and again Jane Austen shows that a woman can refuse to marry someone, whom she's not in love with. Darcy demands an explanation, and Lizzie informs him of her knowledge that he helped persuade Bingley to leave Jane, and gives him Wickham's account. Enraged, hurt, Darcy writes her a letter to explain his side of the story, turns out, after all, he's not the villain here. As luck would have it, Lizzie's summer plans throw her near Darcy's home and she can't stop her curiosity from seeing it for herself. They're given a second chance where they meet again, with open-minds and new opinions of one another. Darcy is still in love with her, and he heard her and wants to prove that he can change, that her first impressions of him weren't entirely true. And Lizzie, learning the truth of his history of Wickham, ashamed of how she judged him, is now seeing him in a new light, in his element, and with him working extra hard to impress her, it works. Then, as life goes, things get complicated when her sister gets involved with Wickham, Darcy rides to the rescue, and even more honorably, keeps his actions a secret. Before Lizzie finds out, she's tormented with the idea that he won't love her anymore, which makes her wonder about her own feelings for him, and when she learns what he's done, she's flooded with gratitude, and her regard for him strengthens. Will they find each other and make it work? I always prefer a story with a happy ending, even if some people might call it predictable, I enjoy the predictability of good winning in fiction because really, how often does that happen in real life?!   It's a story of how two people, despite there different circumstances, different backgrounds, find each other, and against all odds, even against themselves, they fall for one another, and mercifully, they are given a new chance to make it work, and they do. It's hopeful, romantic, with a good dash humor and sarcasm as is Jane's style, and it's a classic. There's a reason this particular novel stood the test of time, and it's a testament to its author's talent and innovation. Pride and Prejudice is a definite "must-read".

[blasphoeme]

I Love You More Than Ice Cream

Gotta credit my girl @midqueenally for this mood board again hehe XD.

Chapter 2/?

Ratings: M (for now will most likely go up later)

Chapter Summary:

Jon's POV! XD Just a short chapter showing Jon's side of this story. Watch him navigate his crush on a certain silver haired beauty, filled with mild awkwardness and a lot of feelings. Oh and a very adorable puppy.

Ao3 link to this chap as well as chapter one here. Just click Previous if you haven't read chap 1~

Enjoy! XD

“Okay... okay... play it cool. Don’t act weird. We got this right?” A question he posed to the lump, wriggling slightly against his chest, its little black wet nose poking at his neck. All he got in reply was a shrill whine and a languid lick.

“Good enough.” Nodding to himself, he tucked the furry lump more securely within the confines of his hoodie. With one hand under the puppy’s bum, Jon slung his guitar case onto his shoulder, setting off down the street towards the quaint little ice cream parlour that he had come to love. The ice cream was delicious but it was for more than that. Hell, even his family knew about it.

His uncle had been badgering him so hard for frequenting “enemy” territory. Well, more like teasingly niggling him endlessly about going over whenever he could just so he could catch a glimpse of that pretty ice cream lady.

“You’re not going to see the competition again are you?” Ned asked, flinging an arm around his nephew’s shoulder and pulling the smaller man into a snug side hug. His prominent brows wriggled cheekily at Jon. Those kind knowing eyes of his uncle, gleaming with mirth always reminded him so much of his mother, Lyanna, Ned’s baby sister. Under the scrutiny of their identical grey eyes, Jon always felt like a child. A boy who could keep no secrets from them. Their eyes saw right through him, always.

See, Jon’s Uncle Ned was the current owner of the local diner and the bed and breakfast above it. It was a family run business passed down from his parents. Besides providing warm meals for the people, the diner was also well known for its range of milkshakes, warm dessert classics like their bestselling rhubarb pie and of course ice cream. It was a place that travellers who were passing through town loved and a place the town folk grew up with. Including, a certain pretty ice cream lady.

Since Dany opened her shop, the two establishments had started a friendly rivalry to see who could attract the most customers by the end of her first year. The time was almost up. Ned had been in the lead due to the fact that he had his diner and bed and breakfast to account for, but now Dany seemed to be catching up. Which may or may not be thanks to him secretly recommending his customers to visit her if they ever wanted a more modern twist to their frozen desserts. Ned wasn’t one who particularly cared for winning. He only wanted his friend’s little girl, whom he watched grow from a spirited little thing with skinned knees and leaves in her hair into a smart, capable young woman to strive and some competition would do her good.

“When are you going to strike up a conversation with that girl, boy? Daenerys is not gonna wait forever!” Ned yelled out at Jon as he made his way to the door.

“I don’t know what you’re indicating at. I’m just going for a walk with Ghost, uncle.” Jon feigned ignorance, feeling rather flushed and discomfited. Was he really that obvious? Ned’s bellowing laughter followed him as the diner door shut behind him.

Daenerys. Dany, the other lady at the shop had called her.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Jon was sure she could have her pick of any man anywhere. Would she even want to bat an eye in his direction? A lady like her must be accustomed to all manner of pursuits from men. What if him going after her would be unwelcome? What if she found him too forward and he’d just chase her away? She might even be taken already! The thought had his heart clenching unpleasantly. For now, he was content with just admiring her from afar and dreaming of how their future interactions would go. Moreover, if he kept going, she was bound to take his order one day, right? That would be a start.

The second day he arrived at the town he had only heard his parents wistfully reminisce about through the stories they told him regarding his extended family, Jon went out exploring with his camera. Taking in the sights of this scenic little seaside town. His wandering lead him further and further into town. Sitting just at the edge of the town centre, at the junction of a street that seemed to lead into the more residential area was a cottage. Its cheerful exterior with its pale pink walls and white roof caught his eye. Curious, he decided to check it out. The closer he got, the noisy chatter of people and the smell of vanilla bean and waffle cones awoke his senses. The sign by the pathway under a fragrant lemon tree, leading up to the house read “Sweet Summer Chilled Ice Cream Parlour”.

Making his way up the front steps to the door, Jon snuck a glimpse inside from the porch windows. His eyes took in the matching pastel aesthetics of the interior decor, the numerous patrons lounging about, the freezers with the ice cream, sorbet and frozen yogurt on display before landing on a woman behind the counter talking to a patron. The sight of her forced a quiet ‘whoa...’ from his lips.

The woman had a head of silver curls that she wore in a fish tail braid, draped over her left shoulder. Her cheeks were tinged with the slightest hint of pink. As for her eyes, he couldn’t discern the colour from where he stood but they were large and doe like. The edges crinkled as she laughed at something her customer said. She was absolutely stunning and that smile of hers took his breath away.

The shop was fairly busy that afternoon and yet despite that, the woman bustled about serving her customers with the biggest, brightest smile on her face. The enjoyment and passion she had for her profession was captured in the twinkling of her eyes. Her never faltering grin was like the sun, so warm and radiant, infectious. Without knowing, his own lips had quirked up to smile along with her. It was that very instant, standing by the door watching her, Jon knew that he was lost. Completely and utterly besotted with this gorgeous stranger.

Upon his return to his uncle’s diner, he tried desperately to be subtle. Casually, as best as he could, he brought up the house at the end of the street to his younger cousin Arya. Thankfully, she did not disappoint. He found out that her name was Daenerys, she grew up in town but left for college. After graduating, she had a job in the big city for a while but decided to return home to open an ice cream parlour. The cottage it now resided in used to belong to her grandparents who left it to her before they passed.

Since then, he’d found himself being drawn to that fairy-tale-esque ice cream parlour, drawn to the lady inside. He didn’t know why but he knew he wanted to be around her. He wanted to learn how to draw out those lovely smiles of hers. He wanted to know what her favourite ice cream flavour was. He wanted to know every single detail that shaped the woman she was.

In theory, wanting something was easy but the process of achieving said goal, sometimes won’t go as smoothly as one would expect. The same goes for wanting to be in a relationship with someone. Jon was learning that now. His dating experience wasn’t much to brag about. His last girlfriend was an acquaintance of his best friend. After their first meeting, the two of them engaged in on and off hook ups and attempts at dating for three months until she broke it off when he hinted at the possibility of them becoming an exclusive couple. After that, Jon gradually shied away from relationships. His job kept him well occupied and he even picked up a new hobby of creating music. That was three years ago.

As each footfall took him closer to the cottage, under the warm pressure of his puppy curled up and dozing on his chest, his heart began to play a game of jump rope. Would she be just as pretty as she was three days ago? Oh, who was he kidding, of course she would be. Would she be wearing that beautiful smile today? Stepping up the steps like he had done so many tines this week, his stomach did a flip at the thought of seeing her again. Ghost began to stir from his nap, whining a little by the jostling of his owner’s steps. “Shhh....” Jon snuck a finger into the collar of his hoodie to scratch between his puppy’s ears.

Pushing the door open, the warmth of the interior and the now familiar scent of vanilla and waffle cones washed over him once more. This place really was lovely. The cosiness of the layout was a nice counterbalance to the slight chill of the house. The shop was quiet that day, with only two of the booths occupied. Scanning the shop with his heart in his throat, his eyes searched for that glimmer of silver that he longed to see.

There she was!

How odd the phenomenon of having a crush was? Just a simple glance could reduce a sane person into a star struck, fumbling, bumbling mess whose brain and body just refused to coordinate. All he could do was stand and stare with his mouth agape. It would appear that he underestimated the degree of his feelings for that woman before him.

That smile she had refilling an empty ice cream tub was like a bolt straight to his heart. A flurry of goose bumps scurried across his skin. What would it feel to kiss that smile of hers, he wondered? Would her lips taste sweet like strawberries and cream? What would it be like to tangle his fingers in those curls that swayed as she moved? How would it feel like to kiss her under the stars, to hold her in his arms? His hands craved to touch her pale skin, to glide over the curves he could see through the confines of her clothes. What would he have to do to make her tremble and call out his name? Perhaps a kiss to her pulse point? One that he longed to find. How would it feel to have her writhing under him, above him, to move within her warmth?

Good lord, snap out of it man!

Running a hand down his face with a groan, this was not the time nor the place for thoughts like that, he berated himself. Jon subtly slung his guitar case to the front of his pants. A little hot under his collar and it wasn’t because of his puppy’s body heat, unsteady steps took him to the freezer display in search of something to cool him down.

Key lime pie, raspberry jelly donut, blueberry cheesecake, peach cobbler....

What should he go for today? Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Dany and her friend whispering in quiet tones to one another. Dany’s cheeks were looking a bit flushed as she clutched her hand to her chest whereas her friend with her back to him was giggling so hard she was shaking.

Chocolate swirl, cookies and cream, black cherry chocolate chip, rum raisin, mint chocolate chip....

I suppose my default wouldn’t hurt, Jon thought with a shrug. Besides, he had more important matters to worry about. Reaching for the bell on the counter he gave it a tap.

Ding!

Shuffling a few steps back from the counter, he started to fidget, adjusting the strap of his guitar case to lie higher on his shoulder. Anxiety swirled to life in the pit of his stomach. Would Dany finally take his order today? If she did, what was he going to say? What was she going to say? Would she look at him strangely like the weirdo she must think he was coming to her shop so often, getting the same ice cream every time?

“Hello there again!”

His head shot up just in time to see her silver pony tail bob out of view as her petite figure hurry off to the back of the house. Jon’s heart dropped. It wasn’t Dany today.

Averting his eyes to face Dany’s co-worker, he gave her a timid wave. “Umm... hi again.”

From his brief interactions with the lady, he could tell that she had a charmingly friendly demeanour and a very pleasant smile. She looked like a person you could be comfortable around and confide your deepest secrets to without the fear of her leaking them out.

“You’ve been coming around a lot. You must really like ice cream huh?”

“Amongst other things....” Jon muttered quietly to himself. Tugging at his ear lobe, his eyes darted away from her. If only she knew. Although, that elusive smirk she wore and her teasing tone hinted that maybe she did. With that mildly mortifying thought in his mind now, a flush quickly spread like wildfire up his neck.

Missandei had her suspicions as to why this good-looking fellow came by so recurrently. His look of disappointment at seeing her and the futile glance full of longing over her shoulder just confirmed it. This man standing right there opposite her clearly had a crush on Dany! The poor guy had no idea that his feelings were very much reciprocated. She was really having the best time observing the reactions from these two lovebirds. Lovebirds who didn’t even know that all they needed to start something beautiful, was to just go for it. They were going to need some help and she was going to give it to them whether they liked it or not.

To start, she needed some information. Clearing her throat, Missandei asked: “So, what’s your name? It’s always good to know our customers and you’re already very much a regular here.”

“Oh. I’m Jon. Jon Snow.” Being the cordial gentleman that he was, he stuck out his right hand in greeting.

Taking his proffered hand in hers, she gave it a quick shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jon, properly this time. I’m Missandei.”

Deciding that it was time to wake up, Ghost poked his furry head out of Jon’s collar. Pushing down on the zipper to free his head, a white ball of fluff emerged from the depths of Jon’s hoodie to address the humans outside with a huge yawn.

“Aww.... and who’s this?” Missandei cooed. Her heart melted into a puddle at the sight of the little puppy in Jon’s hoodie. Its white fur matched his owner’s last name perfectly. Inquisitive ruby red eyes blinked sluggishly as he roused himself fully from sleep to glance about at his surroundings.

Fondly, scratching the puppy under his chin, Jon said to her: “This is Ghost. As you can see he’s an albino pup. He was the smallest of his litter when I adopted him from the shelter. And... he likes to hide out in my clothing for some reason.” Ghost’s eyes narrowed into a squint at Jon’s pleasurable ministrations.

“He’s lovely.” Rubbing a tiny paw under her thumb, Missandei melted even further as Ghost’s mouth tried to gnaw at her. He was the cutest little thing.

Eventually, when Ghost gave up his attempt at chewing and settled for just licking her, Missandei shifted her attention back to Jon to ask him for his order. “Are you having the usual today? Or would you like to try out some new flavours?” Just then, an idea struck her. “Oh, and this puppy’s getting a treat too! On the house.”

“You don’t have to. Just a bowl of water will be fine for him please. I’ll umm... yeah. I’ll have my usual.”

“Nonsense! A puppy that cute deserve a treat! I insist.” Missandei implored, dismissing any possible protests of his.

“Well.... if you insist.”

“I absolutely do! Go wait outside at your table!” Missandei waved her hands at him to shoo him out playfully. “I won’t be a long with your order,” she added with a smile.

Jon watched her work for a moment before exiting the shop to take up his usual bench. Sighing, he lay his guitar case down on the table. Unzipping his hoodie, he lifted Ghost out and plopped him on the table too. Did bringing his puppy with him in hopes to attract the attentions of a girl? Sure. It worked, the girl just wasn’t Dany.

A man with babies or puppies always gets the ladies. That’s what his best friend had said.

Once again, he didn’t get to talk to the woman he went to see but he did make a new acquaintance and possibly a new ally.

“Well, that was something huh?” He asked his furry companion, stroking a finger gently through his snowy white fur.

Little did he know, Ghost the puppy would be the catalyst to his first conversation with the girl of his dreams.

[kevinbaxter]

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Interactive Fiction by Kev

Deep within my core, hard wired into my DNA is my need to be creative.  Cap my creativity and effectively I go from living to existing.  I need to create not just wanting to create but have an inert need to create.  The little boy I was as I child was happiest when I was creative and the middle aged man I have grown into is effectively that same little boy but with a few more miles, a few extra years and some extra kilos to boot. 

Instead of trying to divorce myself from the little boy inside me I choose to embrace and accept that I am him.  I’m the kid who got excited every time a spaceship flew across my TV screen or the good guys shot the bad guys with ray guns yet miraculously nobody ever managed to get hurt.  The kid who watched a woman pickup and lift a tank over her heads like it was made out of paper.  The kid who enjoyed reading comic books and thought to himself, “I can make one of these!” and spend far too many hours during GCSE Maths drawing superheroes in the back of my exercise book instead of applying Pythagoras theorem. 

The child who loved (and still does) watching cartoons but then realised I could use a computer to manipulate static images and give the illusion of animation. 

I enjoy playing video games I would not say I was exactly passionate about them but I do like a good computer game every now and then.  I confess I never gave any real serious thought to becoming a hardcore coder and making and designing games but then I always knew that adding gaming aspects to some of the lessons I delivered could make them a little more palatable.

So I looked at different ways I could incorporate game based learning into my delivery sessions.  This looking around got me interested in Interactive Fiction (IF) but then instead of looking at ‘I.F’ as a tool to use purely for education I realised I could satisfy a need within me to play games and tell stories.

https://kevin-baxter.itch.io/

Many years ago I created an activity entitled “Story time tales” in this activity I presented a scenario that a writer had fallen out with their publisher and so had started to write a story but refused to finish it.  I presented a few paragraphs of the story and the students where to pick up where the story left off and then create their own ending.  A simple enough activity and it went down quite well.  The best way to learn how to do something sometimes is to just do it so I threw myself into this I.F writing malarkey and had hit a wall as far as ideas where concerned.  Then I had my Gestalt moment, I went back and revisited “Story time tale” only this time I would use the power of Interactive Fiction to create branches that enabled the reader/player to go in different divergent routes basically a create your own adventure gamebook.  The working title for this first draft was “The Stepney Children” later retitled “Adventures in Incasta”

On a side note, there is a very old but unfortunately very true saying that if you don’t use it, you lose it.  Since I was as young as I could remember I loved to draw.  I did my time at art college and used to draw, paint and create art in different mediums on a regular basis but then real life kicked in.  I did what many people have done and continue to do to this day, I got a job.  So while I was doing my Peter Parker thing during the day (being a regular student).  I worked evenings and weekends to put some money in my pocket (and my account).  Eventually I bought a car, learnt to drive and passed my test (Yes, in that order) suddenly it seemed this work thing was giving me the things that I wanted a sense of financial independence and “stuff” lots and lots of stuff.  I could do parties, clubs, bars and holidays other stuff kids don’t need to hear about but to be fair I was in my twenties so what better time to be irresponsible.  The one thing I didn’t do very much of was draw or paint.

How does this relate to the previous story I was telling you, well “Adventures in Incasta” was the first time I picked up my drawing pens and illustrated anything even half meaningful in decades.  Something happened that I have never ever experience before …. “drawers block” (If even such a thing existed).  Drawing used to be one of the most natural, fluid things in the world to me.  Drawing was like breathing and let’s face it I did it every day since I was a child so why wouldn’t it be.  Pen and paper was an extension of my subconscious and so why not.  Something I learnt as a child and something I very strongly and passionately believe.  You cannot teach a person how to draw; You ever can or you believe you can’t.  Everybody can draw, OK some people are clearly better at drawing than others but it’s a gift from God and even if you don’t believe in God which is your right after all we all have free will.  Drawing comes from a place inside you.

I have a theory as to why I could draw whiles others believed they couldn’t.  Again drawing back to something I remember hearing as a child.  A Teacher may tell a child to draw a car but tell them they are not allowed to look at one because that is cheating.  So a child is expected to replicate an image of a Car from their memory.  I have a feeling I was the disobedient, rebellious child who looked out of a window and copied away, (I don’t know that for a fact just a theory).  Drawing was my way of communicating what was in my head with the real world but suddenly one day I got corporate and sold out.  When I started to draw “the Stepney Kids” they came out looking much older on paper than they did in my head I looked at the drawing I produced and some of them looked very crude and the lines didn’t look very crisp and my perspective and proportions were all out of sync.  The drawings were satisfactory but not excellent.  I used to be able to draw on instinct but now I’m having to think and that isn’t free-flowing art that’s just mechanical.

https://kevin-baxter.itch.io/adventures-in-incasta

Two more titles followed in the collection, “PYT Pretty Young thing” and “Ca$h Da$h”.  Ca$h Da$h.

PYT was my first attempt to use I.F in an educational context; basically you've seen a young girl sitting alone in the park and depending on the choices you make you can either act responsibly and in a correct and proper manner or you can choose a selection of different options one of which would result in you losing your life.  I only used text no illustrations or clip art.  I have used PYT in a classroom environment when we covered a session on moral dilemmas and I didn't think it went too badly.  My friend Corrine Martin was my unofficial beta tester and her feedback was of immeasurable help to me she basically said "OK not so sure about the jail bail topic but how about you do a story about a suitcase full of money that has been found."

https://kevin-baxter.itch.io/pyt

My brain went overdrive on that one and I basically produced a story with multiple branches that forked off into a lot of wild and crazy directions. Ca$h Da$h was a blast to do I really got into the flow of the story telling aspect.  When I produced "Adventures in Incasta" I basically had one destination in mind and all roads eventually would lead to that one destination.  "Adventures in incasta" has a cliff hanger ending and so I may very well one day need to complete the story.  In my head I have other routes and directions that I want to take those characters in and so expect to see more development on that project on a future occasion.

When I created Ca$h Da$h I took a totally different approach, this time I created a number of different endings take this route and the story ends this way, take that route and the story ends that way but go yet another way and the conclusion is totally different.

https://kevin-baxter.itch.io/cash-dash

"Church at the top the Hill" is my most recent addition to my collection with more planned.

https://kevin-baxter.itch.io/the-church-at-the-top-of-the-hill

I am impulsive I sign up to services and download software for use in future projects.  I originally signed up to Tumblr in 2014 and I have sat on this account for 2 nearly 3-years.  Part of that is due to the fact that I already have a pretty large digital footprint.  I‘ve decide to take a more relaxed approach to stuff I put here.  I want it to be light-hearted and not formal at all, Hello World my name is Kev and welcome to my world.