#the only thing i found is this motivational quote collection?

[disney-forever-and-evermore]

me when i have my final english io within 24 hours: why doesn't my public japanese library have haikyuu of all things?

[secriden]

Oh!! I think-- I think I just had a revelation:

So this moment?? I think it shows us that Fadel thinks that the core of why he's so hurt and angry is that Style was "work[ing] for the police" and "fooling me and my brother". I'm drawing attention to the wording specifically, because it suggests that (to Fadel) the betrayal was about Style getting to know him to find proof of his crimes. That the issues between them are grounded and tied up in the whole hitman/killer secret. Specifically, this focus distances Fadel's pain from being a personal betrayal between just Style and himself.

And yet even when Style confesses that he worked for the police and was tasked by Kant to distract him, Fadel remains relatively calm and collected in his anger.

The thing that does get an almost out of control emotional response, though? It's Style's declaration that his love for Fadel was genuine. This, Fadel could not handle; this, was agony so deep and so profound that it caused a reaction that is the only time we see Style genuinely afraid of Fadel.

But I think this is why Style hasn't bothered to clarify that (a) that he only found out about Fadel's secret after they became boyfriends, (b) that he didn't technically work (directly) for the police and (c) that their initial meeting truly was a coincidence. I've seen a few people wonder why Style continues to allow Fadel to misunderstand these aspects of the circumstances -- and while I'm sure part of it is just the writing/pacing choices of the show, on a character level I wonder if Style isn't defending himself because the distinction does not matter.

Style understands that Fadel's hurt stems not from whether Style approached Fadel because of a genuine attraction at first OR whether Style was working for the police -- but at the centre of Fadel's agony is the simple fact that he thinks Style faked who he was, and that this false display was so utterly perfect that Fadel's tumble into love nearly shattered him to pieces.

(God, the way Fadel has this almost involuntary reaction of confused agony every time Style refers to him as faen. ;A;)

It's why Fadel is constantly trying to see beyond what he thinks is another mask, and why Style devotes himself to being exactly who he is to an almost obnoxious degree. I would argue that more than any other episode -- more even than Episode 1 or 2 (because he did, actually, have ulterior motivations then) -- we are seeing Style as he truly is: not just unfiltered or unedited, but with a purposeful lack of pretension.

This is also why all his focus this episode was to show Fadel that Style truly does know Fadel and is choosing Fadel with his eyes wide open to all that he is.

But this isn't new; Style has been doing this ever since he could, ever since Kant told him the truth and Style had to decide if he was going to keep pursuing Fadel. Because by the end of episode 5, we get this:

[Style] pours the secrets of his knowing and choosing Fadel anyway into the way he presses his lips onto Fadel's skin. [...] Style's kisses contain a purpose that Fadel's kisses couldn't in Episode 3 because in all honesty they were relative strangers back then. -- quoted from this post comparing the storeroom scene with the one in Style's bedroom.

Style knows that everything Fadel fell in love with is still here, still untainted and genuine; because Style fell in love with the truth of Fadel, not the lies, and so all Style really needs to convince Fadel of is the sincerity of his own love. The timing of it doesn't matter, nor does the technicalities of whether or not Style was working for the police through Kant. None of it matters more than Fadel understanding that neither of them fell for each other's masks.

So Style chooses not to defend himself, chooses wordless surrender and instead takes the moments offered to him to press tender kisses to Fadel's hurts -- an intentional callback to the last time Style met all of Fadel's vulnerability with nothing but love and adoration -- and hopes that in so doing, Fadel will see that Style's heart was true and that he has already chosen to give it, unreservedly, to Fadel.

[kazu-naito]

Hey !!! I love your theories, do you think that Cain was the one who gave humans that poison that causes disability in immortals ?, since in this update it showed the place where Plague and Hunger were collecting the horns for the mother's return from life, and one of the officers in that base had a weapon that managed to seriously injure Dino, I'm taking it as a basis that Cain rebelled against his family, and may have been "expelled" to earth or came here of his own free will, keeping his wings hidden from the humans, I don't know if he made it clear how long he's been living on earth, something else would be about ABH, I'm sure the end of season 3 will be the beginning of all the horror that the horsemen of the Apocalypse did on earth. and who knows Lane showing up there to get the book, Lane perhaps became the only person Audrey could trust at that moment, thus making her fate in HSR unknown. and finally paving the way for the future HS3. Sorry for the long text, the more I write, the more excited I get. success and happiness to you.😉

hello thank you so much, wishing you all the best as well! 🥺

this is such a good question and i'd never thought about before! after letting it simmer for a while unfortunately i am not certain on "yes" nor "no" 😭 but here are my thoughts on it!!

cain has never mentioned how long he has been on earth for but we can assume long enough since he (presumably) has no clue on what's going on up there. he has said he was raised on earth but that's a point that confuses me a lot - either his family was in between heaven and earth or whatever happened there took place when he was very young (seems kinda unlikely imo though). i also think he went to earth full time on his own, if he were expelled from heaven he'd most likely be a fallen angel

(spoilers for both hsr and abh just in case) in ep 9 cain tells lane he is bound by a contract and throughout the book he's always implying the answers to it are in the book. in abh mikael has a theory that the beast has an immortal as its right hand on earth - and its followers are also looking for the book. this could be a reach - take it with a grain of salt - but i believe the beast and baal are the same creature and therefore the cult in both books are the same

if that turns out to be true then if cain is bound to baal by a contract and has been on earth for a long time, that means he could very well be the beast's right hand [in mikael's theory]

i don't remember every detail of the hs2 scene but iirc the soldier said they got the weapon from an immortal and iirc again it was poison from a hellish creature and it was definitely not easy to get it - meaning it couldn't have been just anyone there. throughout hsr we see glimpses of cain being way stronger/more powerful than the other immortals (eg lane noticing the obvious difference in strength and energy between him and pileon and him easily overpowering a demon in ep 8 and crushing his skull with just one hand). supposing everything above is true then he might as well have been sent forcefully to the depths of hell to obtain that poison - and ofc he wasn't seen who would've looked there?

another thing about his character is that he always has his own motives and will put them above anyone - he needs the book translated and will do everything to ensure it cause his life and freedom depend on it, everything is just means to an end, he has no set loyalties.

about abh i agree that it'll likely end when the apocalypse begins, likely it'll start at the last update. audrey has mentioned knowing a cryptographer (lane) and they just found the book. during a conversation between lane and dmitry he says others before her failed to translate it so lane won't be immediately given the book, she'll probably be the astrean's last option (and if iirc lane was given the book shortly before the cataclysms started but im not sure so don't quote me on it lol)

one last thing!! the "calls" cain gets are similar to malbonte's so maybe it's shephamalum and not baal, but that's a topic for another time lolol

[astorythatwritesitself]

Notebook November (Notevember) 📓

Looking for a new challenge, in light of the dumpster fire that was once the NaNo organization? Not a huge fan of the 50k goal because of time, motivation, lack of a solid enough concept, or generally don't vibe with it? Do you desire or hoard new stationery the way a dragon desires and hoards sparkly rocks? Notevember just might be up your alley!

What is Notevember?

Some bullshit I made up like a month ago & I absolutely doubt I'm the only one with such a concept, either 😂 A variant of the NaNoWriMo challenge; for those who find specific word goals daunting, who prefer to work longhand, and/or who get more satisfaction seeing... tangible results, as it were? Like, you can absolutely do this digitally if you really want, but this is very much aimed towards folks who find writing longhand just hits a little differently.

Rather than aim for a given number of words, you're aiming to fill up a notebook!

Supplies?

You will need:

- An empty notebook. My personal preference is a 70-100 page spiral or classic composition notebook, but use one that's however large or small you want! This is also an excuse to finally crack open any empty notebooks you might have lying around, yeah?

- Writing implements of choice

And... that's it! Throw in stickers or whatever else you might want, but all you'll really need is a bundle of paper & something to mark it up with.

How to play?

Start filling the pages.

It can be a single story! It could be character or general writing exercises. It could be research notes, timelines, observations of people around you, overheard conversations, a collection of passages, quotes, poetry, or lyrics that speak to you. It could be a little of everything!

The only goal is that, by the end of November, you've filled up each page - and it's your call, if that only means the front of a page, or front and back.

Notevember is meant to be flexible & relatively forgiving, especially if you tend to have a lot going on. The notebook could be one small enough to keep with you throughout the day so you can jot down lines on a lunch break, in a waiting room, on the bus - or it could be something you do at home, after waking up or just before bed or whenever you've got the time.

Other Thoughts?

I have found that I get more satisfaction and more motivation to continue when I can like... see a result. Number Going Up just doesn't quite work for me like it does for other folks, but seeing empty pages fill up, seeing the distortion and wear of the notebook as it gets used? That gets me to feel, 'Ah! Something Is Happening!' There's also (a little) less tendency to try and edit as I go; working longhand with a pen does better for me to get that zero draft/concept on the page, rather than agonizing over creating a polished product from the start.

I've also found I get more into that... 'no one will ever have to see this, it can be as messy & misspelled & senseless as it needs to be' mindset easier, than writing on a tablet or laptop? -shrug- idk It Just Hits Different and that's all there is to it.

Share snippets, characters, whatever you're doing, if you want! But this is a little more aimed at those who just need to get things down, who want to have An End Product, but maybe don't have fully coherent plots or polished pieces, and don't usually have much to share - it's just between you and your notebook. You don't have to share or invite anyone else in, if you don't want to.

So! That's about the long and short of it. If you think you like this idea, feel free to join in; and whatever you are or aren't doing for November Writing Time - good luck, and take care!

[gipitothefrog]

Crime Fic

Word count: 833

@wolfstarmicrofic

Tw: mentions of domestic abuse, murder, human trafficking

Remus took a long draw from his cigar, contemplating the evidence in front of him. Usually this was the part of the case he liked the best; where everything fell together and became clear. But now, there was something off. Something missing? No. Something already there that he had missed? It was a possibility, but a rare one at that. Something he had learned long ago was to never overestimate oneself. The human mind always makes errors, no matter how well trained.

As he was perusing the alibis he had collected, he noticed something he hadn’t before. According to one James Potter, on the night of the crime he was with Sirius Black. Black… Now where had he heard that name before?

Looking over at the list of victims, there were surprisingly three Blacks in the list. Orion Black, Walpurga Black, and Bellatrix Lestrange (née Black). 

A coincidence? In this business, Remus knew you rarely found a coincidence.

“Mary?”

His secretary looked up.

“Call in Sirius Black for interrogation.”

“Sirius Black? Are you insane? He’s incredibly powerful, if you mess with him-”

“The only thing I want is to catch the murderer still on the loose and get a glass of whiskey. Be a doll, Mary, and call him in?”

Mary muttered something along the lines of, “I won’t if you call me a doll again,” but she thankfully obliged. 

Surprisingly, Sirius came in. Remus normally had to go to the suspects house himself. Not only that, but he was there within an hour of calling in. Remus narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Why had he come in so soon? How did he get here? Did he have any motives? If so, what? Why was he smiling like-

“Well, I’m lucky, aren’t I?” Sirius asked. “I thought it would be some old bat wanting to interrogate me, not a handsome man like you.”

That was… certainly something.

“Hello Mr. Black. My name is Remus Lupin. I’m investigating the murder of six people that occurred on October 31st this year. I need to ask you a few questions.”

Sirius fake-pouted. “Do you really think that I did it? Just look at me! I’m the epitome of innocence.”

Remus looked back at him, unimpressed. “Please sit down, Mr. Black. The sooner this is over, the sooner you get to go.”

Sirius sat down and leaned across Remus’ desk, so far that their noses were nearly touching.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be wanting to go anytime soon.”

Remus felt his face flush, and quickly looked down at his notes to hide it. “Unfortunately, that is quite inconvenient for me.” He sighed.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.” Remus ignored this, and began questioning Sirius.

“Where were you on the 31st of October?”

Sirius smirked. “With my friend James-” Well, that checked out, “-murdering six people.”

The notes slipped out of his hands.

“Did you- did you just admit to-”

“Yes, I did just admit to the murder of Walburga and Orion Black, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and Tom Riddle.”

Remus stared at Sirius for several moments.

“You do realize I’ll have to arrest you, right?”

“I don’t think so, Love.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s based on the reason. My motive, if you will.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Well, for one thing, the domestic abuse. I would know; I experienced it first hand. And, my darling cousin Narcissa is pregnant. I couldn’t have that happen to her poor child, could I?”

“That isn’t nearly enough of an excuse.”

“But you didn’t let me finish, darling.”

Remus simply raised an eyebrow.

“If you were to run an investigation on the victims,” Sirius did air quotes around that last word, “You’d find that they run a human trafficking ring. A huge one. Run by none other than Tom Riddle, or as you know him,” he paused for dramatic effect. The fucker. “Voldemort.”

Remus sucked in a breath. He knew the name. Hell, every good detective and police chief knew that name. He’d been around for nearly two decades, always evading capture. There was no way that he was just… killed.

“You seriously think that I’ll believe that? I’m not an idiot.”

“You might not right now, but you will when all the missing people start showing up.”

With that, he stood up and walked out. Remus kept looking at the door even after he was long gone.

Mary snorted. “Did you hear that? Epitome of innocence my arse.”

“I did hear it, Mary. He was talking to me.”

“He’s very pretty.”

“Mm. I mean-”

“I know exactly what you mean, Lupin.” She looked at the door for a moment, lost in thought.

“Are you going to arrest him?” She finally asked.

“No… I don’t think so. I have a feeling that he’s telling the truth.”

“Right.”

They worked for a few minutes in silence before Remus piped up again.

“That’s not the last time we see him, is it?”

“Oh no, definitely not.”

“...Good.”

[reality-detective]

10 wise lessons from Rumi to deepen your self-awareness

1) “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

My take on this profound quote, which happens to be one of my favorites, is that when you’re in pain, you’re also in a position to heal and change. And by pain, it doesn’t necessarily mean physical pain. But rather emotional and mental. 

Rather than focus on the negatives of the situation, Rumi is suggesting that through the turmoil and disruption, there’s also an opportunity for growth – growth being the “light” that enters you. 

2) “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

As we get older, I think most of us build walls of some sort. Perhaps we’ve been hurt in the past and we’re now reluctant to go through the same painful experience again.

But a part of self-awareness is recognizing these barriers we build and continuously trying to break them down. 

If we don’t, we could miss out on beautiful relationships with others. In other words, our fear can hold us back.

So, rather than keep searching for love, as Rumi suggests, why not search within, break down those walls, and allow the right love to find you? 

This would lead to much more authentic, meaningful relationships. 

3) “Yesterday I was clever so I wanted to change the world, today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”

Probably one of the most famous Rumi quotes out there, and for good reason. 

It’s easy to judge the rest of the world. It’s easy to think that we’d do better if we were in charge.

But what many people overlook is this simple fact: If you can’t change yourself, how on earth are you going to change the world? 

I believe that Rumi is encouraging us to focus on our own behavior first before pointing the finger at others. 

As a collective, if we each made positive changes starting with ourselves, this would undoubtedly change the rest of the world as a result. 

4) “The inspiration you seek is already within you. Be silent and listen.”

Right now, there are hundreds if not thousands of life coaches out there, ready to help you find your purpose. There are millions of motivational videos on YouTube. 

We’re surrounded by the opinions of others all the time.

But according to Rumi, you don’t need any of this. 

By being self-aware and focussing inwards rather than outwards, you can find what brings you fulfillment and joy in life. 

You just need to quieten the world around you and listen to your soul. 

5) “Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.”

In other words, stop comparing yourself to others. Stop paying so much attention to what others do. Stop living through the stories of people around you. 

Start creating your own story. 

You see, when you expand the depths of your self-awareness and choose your own path in life, you’re writing your own legacy. 

A legacy that actually means something to you. 

6) “The universe is not outside of you. Look inside yourself, everything that you want you already are.”

One thing that echoes in Rumi’s wisdom is the idea that each of us has a universe within us. 

He often encourages us to stop searching for answers externally and instead, turn our focus inwards. 

I’ve personally found his teachings profoundly helpful, especially on my journey into self-awareness. 

Through Rumi, I stopped following gurus and influencers, each promoting their own methods and practices. 

What I found was that my intuition is the best guide for me. 

After all, we each have different needs. We’re all on different journeys. 

A guru can help you up until a point, but only you, looking within, can find the answers you crave. 

7) “These pains you feel are messengers, listen to them.”

When becoming self-aware, you will undoubtedly have to face ugly truths about yourself. 

Trauma. Toxic habits. Limiting beliefs. 

These are the pains Rumi talks about. 

When you feel a blockage, or a part of yourself that holds you back, don’t ignore it. Pay attention – this is where your healing begins. 

So as you can see, his quote isn’t just about broken legs or back pain (although you should still listen to your body when it tells you it needs a break) but about healing those inner wounds. 

8) “The world is a mountain. Whatever you say, it will echo it back to you.”

On your self-awareness journey, you’ll probably start to delve more into understanding your mindset.

I noticed that I can be quite a negative person. Although I portrayed myself as positive and happy, inwards I had a horrible inner-critic. 

But as Rumi reminds us, we are what we think. The world around us is just a reflection of our thoughts. 

If you think negatively, you’ll see negativity everywhere. 

But when you adopt a positive mindset, suddenly, the world throws positivity right back at you. 

9) “There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.”

The voice that doesn’t use words is your intuition. I’d like to also share this quote by Rumi: 

“The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear.”

I think supports the notion that the less you speak and listen to others, the stronger your intuition becomes, something most people don’t realize.

The truth is, intuition can be honed and heightened. 

But in order to do that, we need to start listening and trusting it. 

In your self-awareness journey, you can practice this. Start with little decisions. Try to avoid asking other people for advice, or googling suggestions. 

Instead, sit quietly with yourself and let your inner voice guide you. 

10) “Do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know the side you are used to is better than the one to come?”

And finally, self-awareness leads to change. 

It brings up things that might be uncomfortable to face. Life decisions that don’t serve us. 

Mindsets that limit us. 

It’s easy to want to bury your head in the sand and avoid confronting these truths. But as Rumi says, how do you know that the other side will be worse?

If you face these areas of yourself head-on, who knows how amazing the change might be for your life?

I personally feel that with this teaching, Rumi is encouraging us to approach self-awareness with curiosity instead of fear. 

Keep an open mind. Don’t reject change. 

The unknown is always a bit scary, but we may find a wealth of new opportunities when we venture into it. 

Final thoughts:

To be honest, I could go on as Rumi’s wisdom is infinite and we’re fortunate to have so many of his teachings preserved. 

But these 10 quotes are enough to help you approach self-awareness in a more simple, soul-centered way. 

As Rumi emphasizes, less talking and more listening is the way to reach whatever form of enlightenment we’re each searching for.

If you need more guidance? 👇

To get through my Dark Knight of the Soul I used the following website which is filled with many articles.

Using the search bar, search for: 👇

• Soul Work

• Shadow Work

• Dark Knight of the Soul

You will find many topics that I am certain will resonate with pretty much everyone. 🤔

May The Spiritual Force Be With You💫

[binahfaes]

a collection of Thoughts on haru's hidden complexities

(originally a bunch of threads from my priv twt where i ramble to myself, essentially— collated and edited. long post ahead.)

on haru, sayuri and what Exactly is his whole deal anyway?

i think it's safe to say that for me and many others, haru as a character felt enigmatic at best, and plain underwritten at worst and very divisive lol. but, i do think within the series we're given some interesting things to work with when inferring haru's reasonings for being with leviathan, his motives, and the nature of his obsession with jamie (before it, in my opinion, shifts to something "more simple," as claude observes).

to start with, a quote:

"it was haru's apathy that fascinated [Jamie] so much. but was it apathy, or something else something more dangerous?

it's interesting because lottie/sayuri believe partially that haru was brainwashed into joining leviathan....and as far as we know, that's not true. claude doesn't use the hamelin formulaon members! but in another way they're not Wrong.

it IS claude's manipulation + his ability to appeal to vulnerable teenagers base desires and wants—he promises to haru that of being a hero (is what he says anyway) and generates this obsession with jamie in haru that inadvertently becomes haru's sole motivation.

but what EXACTLY is going through haru's mind when he joins?

is it that sayuri is so capable that haru feels obsolete? pushed to the side as a partizan? and MAYBE he thinks jamie can fill that role as someone he can protect...?

in PEA, it says something along the lines of "the obsession Claude had encouraged in Haru had turned to something more simple...a boy who felt unwanted by his master [and] fancied himself a hero, so claude gave him a prince to save."

from this we can easily infer a big part of the reason really is that he felt like sayuri didn't need him, and in haru's mind this probably felt like a fairly righteous cause. i mean, haru can relate to jamie as a partizan—perhaps he sees parts of himself in jamie too. claude definitely spun it to him as a worthy endeavour. he might have said something like "oh you're so unsatisfied in your current life and sayuri doesn't need you, but if you joined leviathan you would most certainly be needed," and haru, probably feeling directionless and vulnerable, saw that offer and thought yeah actually that sounds Good.

and perhaps, sayuri was all haru really had. seeing as he's a partizan it's possible he doesn't have a relationship with his family/is an orphan, and I THINK her aunt dying (if it was as recent as i think it is) maybe led to her changing and becoming more distant, effectively shutting haru out (that and her parents divorcing; god poor sayuri).

in a sense, jamie—or the idea of him at first—was all haru had. this all, i think, gives us a bit more context as to how he acted during the Reveal in PAH despite manipulating jamie—the flash of genuine hurt when jamie found out Everything, because of the possibility he would lose him.

how all of this, informs haru's actions

in addition, reading with PEA in mind and the small incites we get from it does actually put a lot of haru's choices into context. whereas before i was thinking oh no poor jamie and his trust issues, I can see a little from haru's perspective too now.

for haru, his top priority was saving jamie. for him, the end goal justified the means. even tho his methods certainly were not pure or ethical. he has to deceive jamie for some time, yes, but he does also come to very earnestly like him. he says he was planning to tell jamie everything, and i do actually believe that to be a genuine remark because beforehand he'd been dropping clues.

there is, of course, also something so tragic about it, on both sides— jamie's never felt seen and understood the way haru sees him, and haru very desperately wants to be needed and in a way jamie is all he has (so there's a lot at stake for him).

not only that, but despite the illusion of free choice and liberation claude gives his subordinates, haru's just another one of claude's pawns. his "obsession" with jamie is apart of claude's plan, and of course claude has no regard for haru's emotional state—in fact he uses said emotions to his advantage.

i think parsing these details out ultimately renders haru more a sympathetic, and comprehensible character. of course, he's still flawed and antagonistic, but to me that makes him a more compelling character, not less! i like the idea of a character who does lie, and does manipulate, but underneath all that there is pure intent, no matter how dishonestly they started out. i also think that, in haru's case, it could've been executed better.

[cartograffiti]

February '24 reading diary

I finished 19 books in February, which sounded like a mistake until I realized I read most of them as audiobooks while doing manual tasks. It's always nice when my ears are on my side (says someone with a hearing disorder).

I like poetry, but I don't read enough to feel knowledgeable about it. I've been trying to read a bit from various countries, and after I enjoyed the Pablo Neruda collection so much in January, I went on to read three other poetry books.

Khalil Gibran's The Prophet is one of those works that I've seen quoted out of context so much that I was shocked to discover I didn't actually know what it's about. It's a series of prose poetry fables with a linking plot in which the titular prophet converses with the people of a city he is departing about different aspects of life. A lot of it is really beautiful and thought-provoking, and I thought it was great. It's become a popular source of quotes for weddings and inspirational goods, but I was surprised and moved to find it's also a text about multi-faith unity; Gibran was Lebanese, and Lebanon had and has striking diversity of religions.

I also really enjoyed The Poetess Counts to 100 and Bows Out, a collection by the important Venezuelan poet Ana Enriqueta Terán. I find her wordplay unusual and her subjects interesting, and even in translation, I found her work to give a powerful sense of humor and hopefulness, and a gift for creating a scene.

I did not enjoy Rupi Kaur's Milk and Honey. Kaur is one of the most famous living poets, and I had read so much praise and disdain for her work that I wanted to form my own opinion. There are turns of phrase I really liked, and it is laid out in an interesting way that means some related poems could be read either distinctly or as sections of a longer thought, which I found neat. But I found myself so grumpy the more I read of it that I ended up also reading a lot about Kaur and other people's analysis of her work, trying to contextualize why I bounced so hard off it. Many critics wrote about trying to separate her style from her content, and chose to praise just one or the other, but I am critical of both. Her style lacks personality that would tell me it was her work as opposed to any other poet's, and her content is full of basic, played-out sentiments of popular feminism and bathetic viral posts. Being reminded of "take me to a museum and then make out with me," "but they said not to touch the masterpieces," is not what I'd hoped for out of this. I do think it's a good thing and a strength of Kaur's that she is able to speak to so many people's common experiences through her clarity and intimate tone; it's a shame it didn't click with me. And unlike several professional opinions I read, I think she's completely entitled to write poetry that is not all self-revealing confessional pieces; that should not be something we demand of any art form. But it's a shame some of her verses suggest that certain kinds of shame and violence are a collective and integral part of womanhood and South Asian identity. She's only a little older than I am, and we were both students when she wrote these. I wonder whether her recent work is more sophisticated. I'm not motivated to find out.

The title of the Kaur book reminded me of some enthusiastic praise I'd read for Mary Robinette Kowal's Regency fantasy romance Shades of Milk and Honey, and I found that disappointing, too. I almost liked it; there's some great bits about making art with magic, and it's a good little world. The most interesting character doesn't get enough page time, a lot of secondary characters feel like flat loans from Austen, and the late-book resolution was forced and rushed.

In the Emelan group read, we finished! We read Melting Stones, an Evvy-centered book that I really enjoyed until it became repetitive in the second half, and feel pretty mild about, and The Will of the Empress, reuniting all the original kids as older teens, which I thought was just great. Pierce in top form, and one of the best of this setting.

Lois McMaster Bujold has a new Penric & Desdemona novella out that I haven't been able to borrow yet, but in the meantime I discovered there was one I missed. Penric is a physician mage devoted to an unusual god, which means he's benignly possessed by his demon friend Desdemona, and they have adventures and solve mysteries. This one was Knot of Shadows, about a puzzling corpse and curses. Great fun. Don't start here.

In the land of romance, I've been really enjoying Mimi Matthews's Belles of London series, about a friend group of interesting Victorian horse girls, so I read The Lily of Ludgate Hill as soon as I could. These are no-sex but sexy books with a lot of skill. I've been easily invested in each couple so far, the friends are well integrated into each other's lives even after resolving their own storylines, and their new beaus are introduced smoothly. More than that, there is a lot of consideration for the social issues and new ideas of the period. My favorite is still the first, but Anne and Felix have a strong second chance romance backstory and they're fun to see squabble and cooperate.

More romance: I finished another Gail Carriger novella, this time Defy or Defend. Dimity Plumleigh-Teignmott in the Finishing School series was only learning to be a spy because her evil genius parents wanted it. Her actual dream was to marry a nice politician of not too much importance and be a domestic goddess and social power. Now an adult working for the government, her professional partner is also her perfect man, and she hopes he'll admit to mutual feelings while they're on a mission to rescue a vampire hive from dangerous disintegration. It's very much a Cold Comfort Farm or The Grand Sophy plot of a cheerful girl solving everyone's problems, which is perfect for Dimity: I love her and I love this premise. Felix's internal conflict is a bit of a nonentity, but I don't care, he's too busy adoring Dimity and taking the trans vampire to buy new clothes.

And the last romance for the month, The Companion by E.E. Ottoman. An extraordinarily efficient novella about Madeline, a writer whose spirit has been crushed by trying to break into the industry in NYC in the 1940s. A friend arranges for her to go stay with Victor, a successful author lonely in a too-big inherited house upstate. She is quickly attracted to both him and his artist neighbor Audrey, and they adore her. All three are trans, and the core of the plot is Madeline navigating these new relationships while settling into the unfamiliar safety and encouragement offered to her. In Madeline's POV, Ottoman very much treats the poly triangle as two distinct romances and a third observed at a close distance, which means doing about 2.5 times the work of most. I went wild for the execution, which felt like magic. You do have to like reading about people trying to write and cooking, which fortunately I do. Highly recommended.

A very different book about a writer that I was impressed with this month is Malice by Higashino Keigo. In translation, this is the "first" of a longer detective series that I can't remember where I heard about. That was to my advantage, because I wasn't primed for the premise, alternating between the deductions of Detective Kaga and witness statements. It quickly becomes apparent who did it, fitting best into the why-dunnit class, and using my expectations as a mystery fan against me. Higashino does not idly use an author as one of the POV characters; his profession creates a surprise that taught me something about how writing works mechanically. Very cool.

Also a book about books: Sunyi Dean's The Book Eaters. My oldest friend and I both listened to this as the audiobook wonderfully read by Katie Erich, and we both complained that the interview in the bonus material killed a little of the mystery for us. Despite that, we loved the main character, Devon, and it's full of interesting ideas. It's about a group of families who eat information instead of food. It's about...fairy tales and it has a unique form of dragon and vampire myths and a slow-burn escape from Christian cults. It's about figuring out you're gay when you're already a parent. It's weird and fascinating and upsetting. I think Dean made very smart choices about when to reveal information through flashbacks, and I think Dean sometimes over-explains things to the reader in the narration that would have been stronger if I was left to interpret them myself. L and I both think we'd be interested in another Sunyi Dean book, but not a sequel to this one. It is a complete concept.

I feel that way about Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon by Wole Talabi, too. This one is a fantasy heist with lots of backstory starring Shigidi, who is a kind of minor nightmare god, and Nnemoa, who is a kind of succubus. They have gone freelance, breaking from the corporation of Orisha and taking their own jobs through the living and spirit worlds. I particularly like Nnemoa's backstory chapters and the heist, but Aleister Crowley is involved for some reason and much less repulsive than in real life, and I was disappointed the heist is a pretty brief element. I'd like to read another Talabi book, though, and this was the first adult book I've read that features the orishas of the Yoruba religion which have been a welcome part of several recent YA fantasy books.

The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water is not the Zen Cho book I thought it was when I checked it out, but I'm glad to have read it. It's a wuxia novella about a nun and some bandits involved in rebellion, told with a lot of humor and thoughtfulness about the role of holy objects through the POV of a trans bandit with his own history with the nun's order. I love Cho's style!

That was a one-sitting project audiobook, as was a full-cast play recording of The Importance of Being Earnest. This is a sensational play that I had put off reading because I thought it had probably been overhyped. It hadn't. This is the source of a lot of Oscar Wilde's best quotes, and it's a jewel of drawing-room comedy and dialogue that operates on multiple levels of significance. I'm glad I happened to listen to actors doing it, which I wasn't expecting when I tapped on the first audiobook that came up.

More old books: I found an Agatha Christie mystery I didn't like! How sad! This was The Big Four, a series of spy short stories starring Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings, compiled together into a loose novel. The effect is somewhat disjointed, and not every story shows her ingenuity. It's full of 20th century political paranoia of conspiracies and spies, with anti-Asian racism and antisemitic tropes I can often count on Christie to avoid or subvert.

And Steppenwolf, by Herman Hesse, which is a very strange and influential work of literary fiction about a man who believes--not to minimize it by putting it this way--that he has a secret wolf-self inside him, much like certain middle schoolers of my acquaintance. The edition I listened to opens with a letter from Hesse in which he remarks that this book is frequently misunderstood, which I will admit put my back up. Maybe there's stuff in your book you didn't intend, Herman! I enjoyed its vagueness, I adored the complexity embodied by Harry Haller's friend/alter-ego/mother/girlfriend/boyfriend Hermine, and I got a lot out of reading literary analysis that gave me better context for the transmigration of souls and Jungian theory. It also suffers from didactic passages, racism and antisemitism, and dogmatism about artistic quality. Very worth reading, difficult to say whether I "liked" the book.

Carrying on with Dorothy Dunnett's Lymond books, I went straight from GK into Queens' Play, which I loved every moment of. It's easier to read than the first book, as she pulled back on stylized spellings and puzzling quotations, without losing any sparkle or punch. It's sooo fun. It's sooo distressing. Spies! Plots! Assassins! Disguises! Escapes! Messy bisexuals! I told my Lymond friends this book was funnier, but that feels like the wrong word for some of the things that happen in it. Giggling and kicking my feet and crying.

And a book I am very solidly neutral on: The City Beautiful by Aden Polydoros, full of vibrant personality and a great premise, but the plot gets in its own way in complexity and the pacing was a real struggle for my taste. The core cast is really strongly varied Jewish immigrant characters in Chicago in the 1890s, some teens have been murdered, there's a dybbuk, and gay kissing. I think I would have enjoyed it more when I was a teen; some YA takes me that way.

[cherrychipheart]

Update

Heya~ It’s been a while. 5 years

First off... I’m genuinely surprised that my dead blog still gets likes and reblogs occasionally. During the course of time, a lot of asks were sent, and I’m really sorry for having left you guys hanging. At that time, high school grades were a priority ;; Now that I’ve been free from all that for a while, at the very least, an update was necessary. 

1. Updating blog theme

There were concerns that the blog was hard to navigate and to add, also lead to external links. I’m incredibly sorry to those who experienced this. The blog has now reverted back to the vanilla tumblr theme. 

2. Back to being active?

I’m afraid that I have lost all motivation to continue this blog. There are 15 drafts/unposted theories that were left sitting there, and when I look at those posts, I think man, what was I thinking? As of right now, I’ve forgotten 80% of what my theories were originally about, that I’ve had to reread them over and over ; And it’s unlikely I’ll ever get back on track. So with that, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to answer all of the asks, since the part of my brain concerning itself with Cheritz has been collecting webs and dust 😞

3. The future of this blog    

I’ve considered deleting this blog for some time. It’s pretty much dead, but I’m still conflicted over whether I should or not. It’s actually my very first and only tumblr blog...  

4. Moving on

Part of what made this fun were some online friends I made along the way in creating these seemingly wild theories. I’ve lost touch with them overtime, but its a part of growing up in general, moving on with life. I’ve had so much fun also looking at others’ theories and looking at the asks. In fact, there were some that were like a revelation o.o, things that I had never considered. There was one ask which talked about how some of the organisations making contact with the RFA sounded like they were making desperate wishes 😮

Anyway, I’ve moved on. From Mystic Messenger. From Nameless, Dandelion. All of Cheritz I’m afraid. I was never interested in The Ssum from right when it was announced back in 2017, because first, it came out of nowhere, and I had doubt that it was connected to the previous games. Turns out... 

I’ll leave that there for you to figure out (don’t wanna risk spoilers haha).

But the biggest demotivator for dropping my blog has to be...

5. Cheritz’s declaration that the story of Mystic Messenger was up to interpretation

That particular post shook me. Starting from Nameless, Cheritz had established that their future games were truly something to look forward to, at least for me. It’s not just throwbacks or cameos, it’s within the same universe. The announcement of MysMe and introduction of Jumin’s character hooked me in right from the start. It was very exciting back in the past. But now, it’s just... eh. Cheritz appears to want to please everyone. Apparently, the Mysme fandom that hadn’t played Dandelion or Nameless were angry that they had to check out the two to understand the story of Mysme which was why Cheritz had made that post (don’t quote me, even I’m unsure of whether this is true or not 😶 But if Cheritz had to make a post like that, it must mean something)

Ultimately, I actually hadn’t even started V’s route nor got a satisfactory ending with Saeran. Their routes were a big surprise, and I felt it got messy quick. When I looked at the story of Mysme at face value (so looking at it independently without any connection to the other games) and paired with other people’s perspectives of Saeran’s and V’s routes based off screenshots, I found there were some inconsistencies regarding the characters and their point of views of events. And if that’s at face value, then there’s just no way I’ll be able to, well, make connections between the games. And the fact that Jumin’s got a route based off a bad ending... well, more profit is good I guess? They are a company after all  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Ultimately, if there are inconsistencies, paired with the fact that Cheritz says that the game is up to interpretation... what, then, is considered canon or a theory?  

If you’ve read this far... nah, there’s no way haha.

6. Just some rambling (my own thoughts, feel free to disagree of course)

I feel like Cheritz has made a mistake. By saying that Mysme can be interpreted in any way, only to connect the Ssum back to Mysme, and killing Lynn Project. Dandelion and Nameless had a clear direction. Lynn Project could’ve had a direction, who knows? Both Mysme (any additional content after the main story, new routes etc) and the Ssum don’t feel like they have a clear direction, with how they’ve had to develop these two within either a tight time frame, or lacking storytelling and anticipation. 

Anyway, I’m not sure if people are still interested in the theories surrounding Cheritz games. If so, it’s really impressive their brains haven’t fallen out. Mine fell out a long time ago. Looking back at my theories, I have now understood how crazy I must’ve sounded to others haha. 

7. So what am I doing now?

At the moment, it’s still unclear on whether I should keep this blog up or not. It all depends. Although I doubt there are others following this blog to begin with (like, is there even a discord server for Cheritz fans on theories and headcanons?)

I’ve moved onto other things at this point: working for a living, learning art, checking out other otome games, Kdramas, and so on.           

Peace~ 

-cherrychipheart   

[corvidaes-crow]

Reposting this from the replies because hey I actually had the motivation to find the quotes that this post was missing (if anyone has the chapter where the Henituses find out about the body swap please let me know). And also character limit was frustrating me.

@somber-cryptid's comment: Question, did the narrative ever explicitly say Deruth didn't ever try to talk to his son after he married Violan and before the transmigration? Or is it just like, not mentioned? I get that Deruth did not support his son as he should have after the death of his wife, but did he really just throw money at him after that? We know that Deruth at the very least had a servant tailing him most of the time. I think we just lack information in general about their relationship.

Edited + extended reply for a bit more detail:

Cale and Deruth were like strangers to each other (ch 2) and Cale was spoiled with wealth and freedom (I don't remember the chapter, lmk if someone has it). That's about it as far as canon OG!Cale and Deruth info goes.

Deruth specifically says "he didn't want to know what his son was doing on the outside" enough to put a tail on him either (ch 8). The driver is probably under orders to report what Cale does, but only unobtrusive observations. That being said, Cale was being watched and reported on by Hans while he was inside the house (ch 8). We can't even take this as proof of Deruth's care for OG!Cale, since Hans is "suddenly" assigned to Cale in ch 4. It can be assumed that Hans only starts reporting on Cale's movements then. Which means that Cale was probably previously unmonitored both inside and outside the house. Or maybe the monitoring came in the form of reports/complaints from servants.

Actually, immediately after that report, it states, "There was a lot of things for [Deruth] to think about other than the change in Cale’s demeanor." (ch 8). Of course this doesn't mean Deruth didn't think about the change at all, but he has priorities and if he protects his lands, he protects Cale too. The collective over the individual. You've got to give it to Deruth, he is a good leader and count. But yes, there is a lack of textual presence to draw on about Deruth's fatherhood to begin with. A lot of it is left up to us to fill in.

In my opinion, a more involved father would also be more indelibly present in the plot, since Cale would have to proactively assuage Deruth's concerns or dodge possible interference. KRS!Cale is happy at how little Deruth cares about his actions and how easy it is to get things without any questions at all. Whether Deruth tried to reconnect with Cale after he remarried, failed and gave up, or he waited all those years hoping Cale would make the first move, I personally don't think it matters. The former implies that Deruth gave up on Cale years ago, probably back when Cale was 8 and started acting out. The latter implies he gave up before he even started trying, and expected a child to make the emotionally mature decision to open up the complicated dialogue about family relationships, death and love. Either way, he failed as a parent.

We can see so clearly how much KRS!Cale treasures familial relationships. Raon, Ohn, Hong, his amusement with the Wolf kids and their 'Vicross hyung,' his stiff yet kind relationship with the Henituse kids, his respect and empathy for Ron and Vicross' father-son relationship. Yu Ryeo-Han puts so much emphasis on found father figures too - Grandpa Ron's intimidating and forceful concern, Goldie Gramps poking well-meaning fun at/lamenting Cale's destructive tendencies, Duke Fredo and Naru and the White Star's whole uncle schtick. So why is Cale's biological father so overshadowed by these other paternal figures (excluding that last lot)?

We mightn't have much information about Deruth, but he's at such a disadvantage without it compared to all the other family dynamics in LCF that it feels almost like a deliberate subtextual criticism of his inaction and neglect on Yu Ryeo-Han's part. He cares, undeniably, but does it matter how much he cares if OG!Cale could not recognise it?

Declaration of competing interests /j: As the original tags say, I project on OG!Cale and Deruth's relationship when writing them/about them. As much as I try to keep my personal biases out of this, my reading of them is not as objective as I would like to be. I am immediately more critical of Deruth and his actions than I may be of other characters. That being said, any reading of any text is implicitly affected by the reader's background. If it's backed up with textual evidence, or finds meaning in the lack thereof, I'm so down to hear other readings!

Deruth Henituse bashing ahead, you have been warned.

I finally figured out why I hate Deruth Henituse. The novel, through Kim Roksu, barely lingers on his failings as a parent. Which, fair enough, I understand from a characterisation perspective why that wouldn't be a main focus. It just means I linger on that in canon's place. Why is Deruth satisfied with giving his child some exorbitant allowance? Why doesn't he ask at any point what it was used for, even when he thinks their relationship has improved? Why can he be a good person to everyone except OG!Cale? What is stopping him except his own cowardice and guilt?

There is not a single thing in LCF that redeems him as a father. We see how Ron grows to care for (KRS!)Cale, as well as Eruhaben and Fredo in their own pseudo-fatherly ways. We see how Deruth has not changed since 'Cale Henituse' improved. If he had been more grief-stricken finding out about Cale on-screen, maybe that would have redeemed him a bit in my eyes, but alas.

I need a scene where Deruth wakes up in the middle of the night heaving, tears streaming down his face when he realises that his son does not exist in their universe any more. When he realises his son has disappeared from their timeline, and likely did so believing everyone would prefer it that way. When he realises that belief is not exactly wrong, because everyone does prefer it this way.

That last realisation, he struggles with, because bad parents will never understand what they did wrong without significant internal struggle and a self-driven desire to understand. I need someone (Eruhaben, Ron, or even Violan) to notice his internal conflict and sit him down and ask him, straightforward and simple, "Which one do you prefer?" And they won't let him tell them his answer, that's not for them to know. But Deruth finds himself repeating the question over and over, which do I prefer?

It starts with 'neither, obviously, how could I pick a favourite?' but the guilt gnaws at him; his reflexive answer is not what his son, his sons, deserve. So he disassembles it all from there. What would he feel if they swapped back? What would he do then? Shower Cale with love, of course - but would he? Or would he find himself taking a step back, guilty and avoidant as always when it comes to his son?

And then, why would Deruth feel guilty? Because he hungers after a son who he can interact with without fearing Cale's hatred or resentment. He knows and fears his own inadequacy to heal their relationship. And the new soul doesn't mind it. The new soul, Cale, holds no expectations for him. No resentment. He doesn't know how to reconcile, but is there any need to if Cale is no longer the son he wronged?

So the answer to such a cruel question, which do you prefer, is... this one. The new one. The Cale that Deruth can be a proud father of, that he can hold his head high when talking about and fret over when he coughs blood or faints or leaves for another dangerous mission. The Cale that he knows exactly how to make happy. It's not hard, either, just food, rest and gold.

Deruth will never know how he could have made the original Cale happy. There is too much strife between them for Deruth to dare try to unravel it all, so he'll settle for wishing him all the best in future endeavours. This is penance enough, the guilt he will carry forever for not noticing sooner the loss of his firstborn son.

[pwhiteheadarts102-03]

Today is Saturday Sept 30, and I’m eating a turkey sandwich at Piggy Park, thinking about my project and looking through recent posts. What comes to mind is that different projects inspire me differently. In other words, some projects are more interesting to me than others. Also, deadlines bring interesting results… sometimes. Perhaps one of the best features about working in groups is that one project may motivate or inspire someone in the group with a vision, and collectively the vision can be realized. Also, some of my best work happens with a complete flip near deadline. I just keep hammering away… a successful project redesign that happens only after arriving at a hundred things that don’t work. Thomas Edison is quoted as saying “I have not failed. I’ve just found ten thousand ways that won’t work.” Oftentimes success is compounded by deadlines, frustration and a panic-like push to combine what I know and what I’ve recently learned with the ten thousand non-working ways. Other times I just turn out pure shit, but whatever.

[amvenvs3000w23]

The Future Lies in the Past

I found that Edward Hyams quote reflects on the importance of preserving our past and maintaining its integrity throughout time. The merit is not in the age of things but in the integrity of the whole, which requires knowledge and memory of the ancient times to hold true. History highlights the significance of acknowledging the past and keeping the memories and lessons alive to this day. Such as remembering that a railway station will have more trains, not just the ones that have passed through to have only existing during that time.

The significance of history lies with how its interpreted, which gives meaning to artifacts and inspires individuals to learn from the past triumphs and mistakes (Beck and Cable, 2011). Without interpretation, artifacts are nothing but old objects that do not have any value. Interpretation is essential to renew the identify of an artifact by providing them with inspiring stories of how they shaped the world around them. History also contributes to building a sense of community by sharing collective memories and stories that enhance today’s community’s quality of life by learning from histories mistakes.

David McCullough emphasizes the importance of the past for our sense of who we are and our civic responsibility. Understanding the past helps us recognize the benefits and freedoms we enjoy and the duty we must protect them. Preserving the past is vital as it reminds us of our roots and motivates us to strive for a better future (David McCullough).

Interpreting history is not limited to understanding and learning from the past’s triumphs or mistakes. It can also inspire people to act for the better. Hearing the stories of survivors of atrocities can be inspiring to people, motivating them to act for a better tomorrow. Through interpretation, history becomes an agent of change and inspiration (Beck and Cable, 2011).

When interpreting history, authenticity is critical as it provides visitors with the most accurate information possible. There are three types of authenticity; objective, where artifacts are used to present the past, constructed, where reconstructions mimic artifacts, and personal activity, where the visitor transcends space and time, feeling as if they are part of the story. Personal authenticity is the most crucial as it enhances the visitor’s experience, making them feel like they are part of the past (Hill and Cable, 2006).

To conclude, Edward Hyams quote highlights the significance of preserving the past and maintaining the integrity of its stories scattered throughout time. The interpretation of history gives meaning to artifacts, inspires individuals, and contributes to striving for the best for all. The past is essential for our sense of identify and civic responsibility, and interpreting history can inspire people to act for a better future. Authenticity is critical in interpreting history to provide visitors with the most accurate information possible and enhance their experience, making them feel like they are part of the past. As interpreters we should strive to relate history in the most accurate and entertaining way possible.

References 

American Association for State and Local History (AASLH)

Beck, L., & Cable, T. (2011). Ths gifts of interpretation: Fifteen guiding principles fpr interpreting nature and culture. Urbana, IL: Sagamore

David McCullough

Hill, S., & Pine II, B.J. (2007).  Authenticity: what consumers really want. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press.

[i-stand-with-survivors]

I know you mean well, and Johnny is NO saint, but Amber is not innocent either. I really did want to believe her, but there are so many inconsistencies in her story. Many of her ex partners have restraining orders against her and she even had a DV charge before Johnny. She was abusive to her personal assistant and even stole her rape story. You can also clearly see her posing for the camera in the court footage. Please pay attention to objective facts, not Vox articles.

I've watched dozens of hours of court footage as well as gone through many court transcripts and pieces of evidence (photos, text messages, audios, etc.) submitted by both teams. Given I've posted and reblogged many of these (many can be seen in my evidence tag, alongside some analyses and out of court statements and the like), I have no idea how you concluded I based my stance off Vox articles.

Since I do make a point to seek out objective facts, I'm happy to speak to the debunked myths you've named here. With the one caveat that I would need examples of these inconsistencies to speak to them specifically since I don't know what you're referring to (e.g. certain things may be a misunderstanding, or her forgetting a detail).

"Many of her ex partners have restraining orders against her"

This claim is new to me. Please send me your source. I tried googling it, but all of the results I could find (I went a few pages in) only talked about her TRO against Johnny, so I'm unable to evaluate this.

"[S]he even had a DV charge before Johnny."

She was arrested for DV and spent one night in jail, however no charges were actually filed (source, source). Tasya, who is still friends with Amber to this day and is on her witness list (source), has issued a statement:

Amber was wrongfully accused for an incident that was misinterpreted and over-sensationalized by two individuals in a power position. I recount hints of misogynistic attitudes toward us which later appeared to be homophobic when they found out we were domestic partners and not just ‘friends.’ Charges were quickly dropped and she was released moments later,” Van Ree told Us. “It’s disheartening that Amber’s integrity and story are being questioned yet again. Amber is a brilliant, honest and beautiful woman and I have the utmost respect for her. We shared 5 wonderful years together and remain close to this day.

(source -- also quoted in UK trial documents, which also give further evidence of the two's continued friendship)

A cop has come forward and said that she was the one who arrested Amber and she couldn't be misogynistic or homophobic because she is a lesbian (source). However, in the UK trial, Amber testified that the officer who put her in handcuffs is a man (source), which would fit with Tasya's statement. Granted, Amber obviously would have had a motive to lie there, so that's where we need to consider what makes the most sense, because something isn't adding up.

What would Tasya's motive be for lying? We don't have any evidence to suggest she is afraid of Amber. If Amber had abused her, it's possible we can't entirely rule out trauma bonding and as a result trying to cover for her, but that doesn't seem very likely a decade later (they were together 2008-2012) -- not impossible, but unlikely.

Ok, so what would the cop's motive be for lying? Well, we know there's an expectation for cops to cover for one another (collection of sources here). We can't prove to what extent Leonard specifically feels that pressure, but it is a potential influence. I also don't consider the police to be the most trustworthy source in general (given their tendency to murder People of Color, murder people with mental health conditions or other disabilities, and higher than average rates of DV). We don't know Leonard's specific stances; sure, there is a possibility she had good intentions and wanted to change the police force from within and was not complicit in the system. However, without evidence to prove that she was trying to be a change agent in the force, it seems entirely probable she would have reason to lie to cover for the other officer

We can't say with 100% certainty what happened until when or if additional evidence is presented. However, after evaluating the evidence, it seems to me more likely that Tasya was the one telling the truth.

"She was abusive to her personal assistant [Kate James]"

I'll set aside Amber's description of James as difficult to work with and drinking on the job (which we don't have proof of other than Amber's word), as well as my own thoughts about James' demeanor (which isn't evidence), but I do think it's relevant to mention Depp's text to James inviting her over to "fix her [Amber's] flabby ass, nice and good" (source) which suggests she may have motive to lie (to support Depp).

We don't have proof Amber abused James aside from James' own claims, and we don't have proof Amber did not abuse James aside from Amber's own claims. Since they both could be argued to have motive to lie, let's look for other evidence.

The UK trial judgment says, "I am afraid that I did not find Ms James a satisfactory witness. She had been dismissed by Ms Heard in February 2015 and the circumstances of her termination still appeared to be a cause of rancour with Ms James." So a judge already determined that it is unlikely James' testimony can be trusted. It doesn't guarantee her to be lying, but it definitely tips the scales more toward doubt.

Amber "stole her [James'] rape story"

James' story (from her second witness statement, UK trial): "When I was 26 years old and traveling in Brazil, I was violently raped by an unknown male at Machete point, having been woken by the perpetrator whilst sleeping alone in my dwelling. This ordeal went on for 5-6 hours and I narrowly escaped with my life."

Amber has recounted three instances of sexual assault: one in Hicksville in which she says Depp claimed he was conducting a "cavity search", one in the Bahamas in which she says he "shoved his fingers inside" her, and one in Australia in which she says he used a bottle to assault her.

The only similarities I can identify would be that both involve rape (obviously), both perpetrators are male, and both feared for their lives (extremely common during rape). I do not see any basis on which to conclude that Amber stole James' story.

In the aforementioned witness statement (dated July 12, 2020), James makes the claim that she became aware of Amber's story on June 25, 2020 when reading documents she received in preparation for her participation in the hearing.

It should be noted that the allegations of sexual assault were confidential in the UK trial, as we can infer in the judgment linked above, with sections on Hicksville, the Bahamas, and Australia all saying that "Further details of this incident are contained in the Confidential Schedule to the Re-Amended Defence." (There are other references to the confidential schedule, such as in Amber's 5th witness statement, however this is the most clear tie I've seen because all three locations match.)

On day 7 of the UK trial (July 15, 2020 -- 3 days after her second witness statement), James is asked, "Have you seen any confidential statements that Ms. Heard has made in these proceedings?" and she answers, "No, sir" (page 1229). This means that at the time she alleged Amber had stolen her story, she hadn't even read Amber's allegations.

The other possibility would be that James did hear Amber's allegations in some way, but lied about how she heard of them. We can't prove that either way with the evidence at hand, however it remains relevant that their stories have nothing significant in common aside from the topic (sexual assault). I'm not sure how one could compare the stories and argue that Amber "stole" James' story.

"You can also clearly see her posing for the camera in the court footage"

I assume you're talking about this. Well, I don't know about you but if I was blowing my nose and realized someone was about to take a picture of me, I would probably not want to pull the tissue away until after. Would you want to risk someone photographing you with snot hanging out of your nose or something??? Obviously I can't say for certain that was her intention, but neither can we say for certain her intention was to seek sympathy/publicity, because we aren't mind readers. As such, this doesn't go very far as evidence.

I have also heard that Amber didn't want the trial televised in the first place, however I am not using that as evidence because I haven't been able to find a primary source for that. If anyone has one, please link it to me.

.

Hope that helps! Of course given she is human, Amber is not perfect, but she should not need to be perfect to be believed.

[tattoos-and-ballgowns]

You make some interesting points! Working in an art museum myself and hearing my mom talk extensively about all the facets of working in an art museum (which she did most of my childhood) I do have some points I’d like to make about art museums deciding what goes up and what gets accrued into the collection.

***My brain is fighting me this morning so I’m sorry if what I write has no or little bearing to what you wrote, or if I missed anything important***

-All art museums have a driving mission. Even art museums that seem to be motivated by “we have famous stuff” or “look at all the things this one guy owned” (a not uncommon starting point for some science museums, might I add) need to then ask themselves “how do we make our collection and exhibits interesting to people”

-art curators don’t like it when pieces are up all the time. It’s very important for pieces that they have time to, and I quote, “rest”. Part of the problem is visitors may throw a fit (and they will…) if a piece they came to see or they love seeing whenever they’re in isnt up. Those two reasons are why pieces are given schedules to balance what the artwork needs and what visitors want. That’s why some art museums put on their website “btw this piece of ours is down today”

-art museum curators are fighting the overwhelming number of people (both within organizations and visitors) that say “art museums are srs business so no play allowed” and it’s MUCH better now than it was even 10 years ago. There are also contemporary artists that encourage people to interact with their work, that purpose is just not found in most artworks you see.

-art museums are trying to come up with ways to further engage visitors with their collection, but IMO part of the issue is a lot of art in museums are intended to be engaged with by being looked at and thought about and/or need to rely on not being touched for preservation. Even for artworks that weren’t created specifically for gallery space (like when art museums display quilts) direct interaction is tough because each touch, no matter how small, has a slight degenerative effect. When you were at the Detroit museum of art did they have the donkey statue in the lobby? It was made to be touched, and you can tell from photos how much being touched has changed it!

-it sounds like that Picasso gallery was a missed opportunity, but just because every piece doesn’t have a huge breakdown doesn’t mean it’s not a valued part of the collection. Did you tell the front desk you were interested in learning more on those pieces than the provided information in the gallery space told you?

-Also yeah the curator may not have had time to make more than those placards because writing them takes a lot of time. There is no WAY Detroit’s art museum has enough man power or funds allocated to its actual functional needs but then again what museum does (also a problem at the big boys, so yes I include moma and the met in that statement)

-art museums like Detroit’s (GENUINELY one of my favorite art museums I was actually excited you mentioned them) are in a tough spot because they have to fight against people that go “oh you don’t have a Van Gough? You’re not a real museum” (IT HAPPENS I PROMISE), so in addition to trying to balance the needs of their collection with the wants of their visitors/be engaging with their collection of things you look at/get any money they have to self advocate against that type of hater

Look art museums may be stuck in the past in many many many many many ways but we can all overcome that by supporting museums and galleries that DO the kinds of exhibits and kinds of work that we want to see.

Also if you want something specific tell the front desk! Write an email! Art museums can only give people what they want if they KNOW what people want, and the only people that speak up just want to stare at the same paintings all the time.

Also-

I COMPLETELY agree that we need to do better when it comes to modern art! Art museums have the opportunity to actually show people what makes modern art interesting and they really seem to fall flat a lot of the time

I would be very interested in hearing the museum design rant

by popular demand: Guy That Took One (1) Museum Studies Class Focused On Science Museums Rants About Art Museums. thank u for coming please have a seat

so. background. the concept of the "science museum" grew out of 1) the wunderkammer (cabinet of curiosities), also known as "hey check out all this weird cool shit i have", and 2) academic collections of natural history specimens (usually taxidermied) -- pre-photography these were super important for biological research (see also). early science museums usually grew out of university collections or bequests of some guy's Weird Shit Collection or both, and were focused on utility to researchers rather than educational value to the layperson (picture a room just, full of taxidermy birds with little labels on them and not a lot of curation outside that). eventually i guess they figured they could make more on admission by aiming for a mass audience? or maybe it was the cultural influence of all the world's fairs and shit (many of which also caused science museums to exist), which were aimed at a mass audience. or maybe it was because the research function became much more divorced from the museum function over time. i dunno. ANYWAY, science and technology museums nowadays have basically zero research function; the exhibits are designed more or less solely for educating the layperson (and very frequently the layperson is assumed to be a child, which does honestly irritate me, as an adult who likes to go to science museums). the collections are still there in case someone does need some DNA from one of the preserved bird skins, but items from the collections that are exhibited typically exist in service of the exhibit's conceptual message, rather than the other way around.

meanwhile at art museums they kind of haven't moved on from the "here is my pile of weird shit" paradigm, except it's "here is my pile of Fine Art". as far as i can tell, the thing that curators (and donors!) care about above all is The Collection. what artists are represented in The Collection? rich fucks derive personal prestige from donating their shit to The Collection. in big art museums usually something like 3-5% of the collection is ever on exhibit -- and sometimes they rotate stuff from the vault in and out, but let's be real, only a fraction of an art museum's square footage is temporary exhibits. they're not going to take the scream off display when it's like the only reason anyone who's not a giant nerd ever visits the norwegian national museum of art. most of the stuff in the vault just sits in the vault forever. like -- art museum curators, my dudes, do you think the general public gives a SINGLE FUCK what's in The Collection that isn't on display? no!! but i guarantee you it will never occur, ever, to an art museum curator that they could print-to-scale high-res images of artworks that are NOT in The Collection in order to contextualize the art in an exhibit, because items that are not in The Collection functionally do not exist to them. (and of course there's the deaccessioning discourse -- tumblr collectively has some level of awareness that repatriation is A Whole Kettle of Worms but even just garden-variety selling off parts of The Collection is a huge hairy fucking deal. check out deaccessioning and its discontents; it's a banger read if you're into This Kind Of Thing.)

with the contents of The Collection foregrounded like this, what you wind up with is art museum exhibits where the exhibit's message is kind of downstream of what shit you've got in the collection. often the message is just "here is some art from [century] [location]", or, if someone felt like doing a little exhibit design one fine morning, "here is some art from [century] [location] which is interesting for [reason]". the displays are SOOOOO bad by science museum standards -- if you're lucky you get a little explanatory placard in tiny font relating the art to an art movement or to its historical context or to the artist's career. if you're unlucky you get artist name, date, and medium. fucker most of the people who visit your museum know Jack Shit about art history why are you doing them dirty like this

(if you don't get it you're just not Cultured enough. fuck you, we're the art museum!)

i think i've talked about this before on this blog but the best-exhibited art exhibit i've ever been to was actually at the boston museum of science, in this traveling leonardo da vinci exhibit where they'd done a bunch of historical reconstructions of inventions out of his notebooks, and that was the main Thing, but also they had a whole little exhibit devoted to the mona lisa. obviously they didn't even have the real fucking mona lisa, but they went into a lot of detail on like -- here's some X-ray and UV photos of it, and here's how art experts interpret them. here's a (photo of a) contemporary study of the finished painting, which we've cleaned the yellowed varnish off of, so you can see what the colors looked like before the varnish yellowed. here's why we can't clean the varnish off the actual painting (da vinci used multiple varnish layers and thinned paints to translucency with varnish to create the illusion of depth, which means we now can't remove the yellowed varnish without stripping paint).

even if you don't go into that level of depth about every painting (and how could you? there absolutely wouldn't be space), you could at least talk a little about, like, pigment availability -- pigment availability is an INCREDIBLY useful lens for looking at historical paintings and, unbelievably, never once have i seen an art museum exhibit discuss it (and i've been to a lot of art museums). you know how medieval european religious paintings often have funky skin tones? THEY HADN'T INVENTED CADMIUM PIGMENTS YET. for red pigments you had like... red ochre (a muted earth-based pigment, like all ochres and umbers), vermilion (ESPENSIVE), alizarin crimson (aka madder -- this is one of my favorite reds, but it's cool-toned and NOT good for mixing most skintones), carmine/cochineal (ALSO ESPENSIVE, and purple-ish so you wouldn't want to use it for skintones anyway), red lead/minium (cheaper than vermilion), indian red/various other iron oxide reds, and apparently fucking realgar? sure. whatever. what the hell was i talking about.

oh yeah -- anyway, i'd kill for an art exhibit that's just, like, one or two oil paintings from each century for six centuries, with sample palettes of the pigments they used. but no! if an art museum curator has to put in any level of effort beyond writing up a little placard and maybe a room-level text block, they'll literally keel over and die. dude, every piece of art was made in a material context for a social purpose! it's completely deranged to divorce it from its material context and only mention the social purpose insofar as it matters to art history the field. for god's sake half the time the placard doesn't even tell you if the thing was a commission or not. there's a lot to be said about edo period woodblock prints and mass culture driven by the growing merchant class! the met has a fuckton of edo period prints; they could get a hell of an exhibit out of that!

or, tying back to an earlier thread -- the detroit institute of arts has got a solid like eight picasso paintings. when i went, they were kind of just... hanging out in a room. fuck it, let's make this an exhibit! picasso's an artist who pretty famously had Periods, right? why don't you group the paintings by period, and if you've only got one or two (or even zero!) from a particular period, pad it out with some decent life-size prints so i can compare them and get a better sense for the overarching similarities? and then arrange them all in a timeline, with little summaries of what each Period was ~about~? that'd teach me a hell of a lot more about picasso -- but you'd have to admit you don't have Every Cool Painting Ever in The Collection, which is illegalé.

also thinking about the mit museum temporary exhibit i saw briefly (sorry, i was only there for like 10 minutes because i arrived early for a meeting and didn't get a chance to go through it super thoroughly) of a bunch of ship technical drawings from the Hart nautical collection. if you handed this shit to an art museum curator they'd just stick it on the wall and tell you to stand around and look at it until you Understood. so anyway the mit museum had this enormous room-sized diorama of various hull shapes and how they sat in the water and their benefits and drawbacks, placed below the relevant technical drawings.

tbh i think the main problem is that art museum people and science museum people are completely different sets of people, trained in completely different curatorial traditions. it would not occur to an art museum curator to do anything like this because they're probably from the ~art world~ -- maybe they have experience working at an art gallery, or working as an art buyer for a rich collector, neither of which is in any way pedagogical. nobody thinks an exhibit of historical clothing should work like a clothing store but it's fine when it's art, i guess?

also the experience of going to an art museum is pretty user-hostile, i have to say. there's never enough benches, and if you want a backrest, fuck you. fuck you if going up stairs is painful; use our shitty elevator in the corner that we begrudgingly have for wheelchair accessibility, if you can find it. fuck you if you can't see very well, and need to be closer to the art. fuck you if you need to hydrate or eat food regularly; go to our stupid little overpriced cafeteria, and fuck you if we don't actually sell any food you can eat. (obviously you don't want someone accidentally spilling a smoothie on the art, but there's no reason you couldn't provide little Safe For Eating Rooms where people could just duck in and monch a protein bar, except that then you couldn't sell them a $30 salad at the cafe.) fuck you if you're overwhelmed by noise in echoing rooms with hard surfaces and a lot of people in them. fuck you if you are TOO SHORT and so our overhead illumination generates BRIGHT REFLECTIONS ON THE SHINY VARNISH. we're the art museum! we don't give a shit!!!

[wish-i-wasnt-a-coward]

Family Cuddle Pile

a/n: I actually wrote this a while ago but it was perfect for the request. Theirs like, no content for this ship an I love it so much! Thank you for reading :) @arodynamic-enby

Pairings: romantic Anxceitmus and kid!Patton also super background Logince

Warnings: tattoos, less than ideal parent mentions, food mention, and light cursing

Word count: 1,844 

-----------------------------------------------

Remus flopped out of bed, throwing his body carelessly across the room. He hastily threw on his clothes. Short shorts, ripped fishnets, a vest that was more patches than original material, really big clunky shoes, and a ripped up band-t. He also hooked his favorite bone earrings in his tattered earlobes. 

He stomped into his apartment’s kitchen. He grabbed a stale piece of bread he soaked it in coffee. Yawned and grabbed his bag, racing out the door. 

His brother was waiting for him at the tattoo shop, sketching a new idea. Unlike him, Roman only had a few tattoos, including not one, not two, not three… but three Disney quotes, a frog on a mushroom, a rose on his arm, and a constellation. Most of his tattoos were covered by tasteful burgundy overalls and a white button-down shirt.

Remus’ tattoos were also mostly covered by his clothes. But he had a tattoo sleeve depicting the garden of Eden, a matching frog on a mushroom, a quote from one of Roman’s books, medically accurate bone structures on his hand, a realistic spider on his neck, and a snake wrapping around his non-sleeved arm. And those were just the visible ones. 

Suffice to say, the twins were very different. 

Remus threw his bag onto the floor in the backroom, “Ro, when’s the first appointment!!” he yelled. “Your’s? At 11. FYI, Jan n’ Pat are coming over at 12, for motivation” Remus smiled, fuckin’ superb. 

He busied himself in collecting the ink and preparing the tattoo gun. The client wanted a fucking orange on their wrist, it should only take an hour or two but Remus was not excited to do a frickin’ orange circle. 

The prissy orange bitch came in and Remus got to work. They didn’t move much and only cried a little bit when the needle started jabbing at their skin. Remus liked this part of the process, stabbing people consensually was his favorite thing ever… also the art part but stabbing people!

Almost exactly an hour later the door jingled open. “Dada!!” a tiny voice called back into the store. “I’ll be there in a minute patty-cake” Remus called from his spot hunched over the client's arm.

He added the final touches to the fruit and helped the orange bitch off the chair. Roman swept the client away, Remus practically ran to greet his partner and son.

Janus wore a leather corset over a black collared shirt and baggy pants, their long platinum hair framed their face under their signature hat. They were holding hands with a toddler wearing mostly pink and blue, his blond hair (that matched Janus’) was a mop of curls barely held together by a few butterfly clips. 

“Dada, Dada!!! I got you a flower” the little boy cried, letting go of Janus’ hand and stumbling towards the tall man who scooped him up. Patton giggled and held out a sweaty flower clenched in his chubby fist. 

Remus accepted the flower with a gasp, ”this is really for me?” he said joyfully. Adjusting the small boy in his arms Remus turned towards Janus who was looking at the pair with a disgustingly sappy expression. 

“What are you lookin’ at hot stuff?” Remus teased. “Shut it you,” Janus said, pressing a kiss to Remus’ check. Patton made a noise, “icky” he said pushing Janus away. They laughed, “yes darling, we’re very icky”. 

“When’s verge-“

“he’ll be home at 4” 

“Dope”

“Stop by the Sleepy Café before you bring Pat to the apartment?”

“Can do scootal-lo!” 

Remus turned back to the little boy in his arms, “looks like you're stuck with me squirt”. Patton beamed and snuggled into Remus’ chest. Janus smiled again, “I’ll see you, boys, at dinner,” they said, ruffling Pat's hair and peaking Remus on the lips quickly so as to not upset the toddler. “Bye-bye Janny!!” Patton called after Janus as they left for work. 

“Righty-o,” Remus said, carrying Patton into the back room. “I know Ro’s got a couple coloring books, wanna do those for a bit?” Patton nodded and reached towards the ground to be put down. Remus plopped Patton on the couch and pulled out the book and pens as well as a sketchbook off his own. They sat together coloring and drawing until Roman came back to hug Patton. 

“Ah, my favorite nephew!” Roman said, scooping up the little boy. Patton laughed and pulled Roman’s hair. “Roro, can I color your arm pictures??” he asked, pointing to Roman’s rose tattoo. Roman plopped the toddler back down on the couch and handed him a pen. 

Patton went to work on the rose, scribbling reds and pinks and greens across his arm. Roman gave him complements each time Patton paused, and each time Patton shushed him and went back to work. Remus finished up his sketch, adding it to the pile of tattoo ideas they were eventually going to put up-front, and sat next to the toddler. 

“That’s really good pat-” 

“Shhhhhhhh”

Remus nodded and mimed zipping his lips. He liked spending time with the kid. They weren’t biologically related but who gives a fuck about blood, unless it’s outside of your body, then it’s fun. 

---------------------------------------------------------------

“I don’ wanna” Patton wined his dad sighed “I know bubbles but we gotta go home to Papa and Janny, isn’t that fun” Patton considered this, “but Roro’s pretty arm picture” he argued. Remus scratched the back of his neck, “Pffffff- Ummm, how about this, we go home now and I’ll take you back to the shop tomorrow after pre-school” 

Patton brightened considerably, “ok” he chirped. “up please” the toddler’s chubby hands reached towards Remus who obediently scooped him up with a coo. After all who was he to say no to uppy hands. 

“See ya tomorrow, have fun on your date with the nerd” Remus sang as he snatched his bag juggling the still fussy Patton in his other arm. “Fu- Frick off Re. Say hi to your partners for me,” Romans said affectionately and waved as his twin left the building. 

Remus happily trotted out into the road. The tattoo shop was located on a quaint little street in the more commercial segment of their town only a short walk from Janus’ job. 

A light drizzle floated around them and the air was warm and comforting. Patton squealed as a large drop of water hit him in the head, prompting a laugh from Remus.

A jingle sounded through the peaceful cafe, the brown room was illuminated by those cool old fashion lights and a lovely array of pastries made the air smell of chocolate and blueberry scones. But the scones, as delicious as they were, weren’t the snack Remus was here for

“Hey babe- Remus why are you soaking wet”

“Puddle” Patton screeched. 

“Kid’s right, Puddle.”

Janus pinched their eyebrows, “ya know what, I’m not even surprised anymore. Just make sure Patton doesn’t catch a cold” they scolded. 

Remus nodded and saluted in mock seriousness, “yes captain” he said and pressed a kiss to Janus’ face over the cash register, “I’ll see ya in a bit” Remus grinned and led Patton back out of the cafe. 

Janus sighed lovingly as they watched their boyfriend and son turn to cross the street, Patton’s hand clasped around Remus’ happily. “Stop looking so happy, you're scaring the customers” Remy teased from across the counter. “Ha, Ha,” Janus glared and went back to work” 

Janus’ apartment was a cute two-bedroom space on the fourth floor of the building. The furniture was an interesting combo of vintage and things from the side of the road. The vintage parts came from their parent’s house, their father had died two years after Janus’ had run away and hadn’t thought to write them out of the will. 

The three of them had made a date out of customizing the few pieces that Janus wanted to keep. The customization mainly included darkening everything and adding more gothic touches. Virgil had done the fabrics, Remus the painting, and Janus moral support/ director. 

The three partners had also painted the kitchen/dining room/living room black with one yellow wall. Janus and Virgil’s room was dark purple instead of black with highlights in the same yellow. Patton’s room was the only one that didn’t  look marginally like a cave. 

The walls were a cream-yellow that lit up in the morning sunlight. After Janus announced that they were going to have a baby Remus had spent three hours painting the grey ceiling with white fluffy clouds. It was one of his favorite projects. 

Patton of course had no regard for the work put into the entirety of his home and was the usual menace of a toddler. And today a toddler with cheerios, truly a sight even god would tremble before. 

Remus plopped down next to Patton who was pushing cheerios around his highchair tray with an intense focus. He smiled at the little boy and flicked on the tv, “got any requests pip-squeak?” Remus asked. Patton looked thoughtful, “dead lady!!” he cried excitedly hitting the tray with his fists, cheerios flew everywhere. Remus nodded, understanding, “Corpse bride coming up!” he picked a few cheerios from the couch “you really are Verge’s kid” 

When Janus got home Patton was curled up on Remus’s chest. Both slept soundly despite the dead folk on the screen in front of them singing about the wedding. 

Janus smiled, their family was fucking adorable. They slipped off their shoes and snuggled up into Remus who hummed happily and pulled Janus into the hug still asleep. 

----------------------------------------

Three hours later Virgil trudged up the four flights of stairs huffing indignantly with each step. Of course, he could take the elevator… but it might break down and he would be stuck for hours. Or someone could get into the elevator with him and he would have to interact with a stranger. So stairs it was. 

He rummaged around his baggy hoodie, running his fingers through his dark purple hair in annoyance when he couldn’t find the key. Once he found it Virgil carefully (as he did everything) opened the apartment door. His combat books clunked satisfyingly against the hardwood floors as he entered his house. Virgil felt the tension leave his muscles, he was home. He glanced across the room, looking for his family. 

Virgil’s face lit up like a god damned Christmas tree. 

Across the room, both his partners and his son were curled up sleeping happily. Drool covered Remus’ face and Janus was snoring, they were the most precious thing Virgil had seen all freakin day. 

The three of them woke as Virgil wrapped his arms around them, Patton squealed in excitement. “Hello, darling” Janus mumbled sleepily into Virgil’s arm. Remus just groaned and nestled into the hug. The toddler wriggled between his dads squealing profusely. “Shhh, s’ sleepy time” Remus mumbled, rolling deeper into the cuddle pile and shutting Patton up. 

Virgil smiled and pressed a kiss to his partner’s cheek. “Mmm, love you” they purred. “Love you too Jan,” Virgil said, nestling his face in their neck. Virgil knew he would have to start dinner soon but that could wait, for now, cuddles.

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Leggiero (Chapter Three)

aIn collaboration with @bethanysnow

Small touches, looks, and wine-soaked daydreams lead to whispered conversations on balconies' edge. Put out cigarettes in the middle of the night. Let lips touch as palms do - eventually...

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word count | 7111

Tag list | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitermoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @dacey0eg @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @bidet-and-legolas @ginny-lily

***

The bus rumbled underneath Damiano as he turned around in his bunk, the humming of the vehicle drowning out the clatter and chatter of his bandmates in the background. His head was pounding, but less because of the little alcohol he had consumed the night before and more because of the thoughts that had kept him up all night. This morning, he had made sure to be up before Y/n would come around for her wake up call, got ready and then all but crawled into the bunk on his bus for more sleep. They would play a gig in the evening, but for now he was thankful for the 6-hour drive to Oslo with nothing to do.

He could almost feel himself drifting off, body tired out and mind exhausted, but instead all that he saw when he closed his eyes were scenes from last night.

The room was filled with laughter. Music and Vic’s singing, as Damiano let himself fall onto the bed next to Y/n. She looked gorgeous, hair down, relaxing, a champagne flute in her hand and a slight smile on her face. Even though he knew she’d be worrying about what Thomas was doing to the room and how she was going to get them out of bed the next morning. But mostly she was just gorgeous and he told her so.

His hand reached out before the contemplation of this action had been finished in his brain. The adrenaline from the first show of the tour had him flying, soaring, and there was nothing that could possibly bring him down. Her eyes showed surprise but she didn’t pull away as he put a strand of her hand behind her ear. The gesture was small but Damiano felt like he was on fire, briefly stroking the soft skin under his fingers before pulling back.

He found himself babbling about his hair, but he was much more interested in what she had to say. He wished she would talk about herself more often - so much of his personality was so out there, so much information about himself was literally out there, in magazines and interviews and photos, but she had her walls up, even when they were joking, even when she seemed to be talking freely.

“You’re getting more interesting with every second I’m around you, you know?” The words slipped out of his mouth so easily. She went over it just as easily. Did she not care? Did she not find him interesting? He had hoped for some sort of reply or reaction, but she just continued talking. Maybe she wasn’t interested in him… His brain only allowed the thought for a minute. No, he told himself, she simply was this way. Cool, calm, collected. He was sure he would be able to get her out of her shell further one of these days. He wasn’t going to stop trying.

Next thing he knew, she had thrust her phone into his hand, some picture of her from years ago. He didn’t care much about the outfit or the makeup or the questionable hair, it was her smile that drew him in. There was something carefree about it, something unabashedly confident, something she seemed to have lost since then. There was no way back for him he realised in that moment - it might as well have been this woman or no other ever again.

Next thing he knew, he was complimenting her again, calling her darling, but this time he didn’t have to wait long for a reaction. The drink that had been in her mouth just a second ago was now spluttered on her clothes and some of the bedding. He was about to ask her if she was alright, but she had jumped up from the bed, hands trying to hide her reddening face, and dashed to the bathroom.

Fuck, what happened?

“Damiano! What did you do to the poor girl!” Vic shouted in amusement from across the room. He simply waved it off. He wasn’t actually sure what he had done and it bothered him more than he would like to admit - especially in front of his bandmates. Maybe he had come on too strong, tried too hard, had made it awkward. His plan had been to pay her compliments - not scare her away with them. He would have to reconsider his course of action.

When she came back, it was only to say a quick goodnight, waving and leaving. She only spared him a brief glance, no smile or any reassurance that they were fine.

It had not stopped going through his mind. This morning, she had pretended like nothing had happened, but he knew she had been avoiding his gaze and her smiles didn’t seem quite as genuine as they did before. Damiano let out a low groan into his pillow. This was a mess and a half.

The curtain of his bunk was drawn back harshly, revealing Ethan’s face.

“Why would you scare me like that!” Damiano complained. “I could be jacking off in here!”

“Well, I want to assume you wouldn’t do that in a semi-public space such as this,” Ethan replied with contemplation on his face.

“What do you want anyway?”

“Victoria sent me and told me to tell you, I quote,” Ethan cleared his throat. “‘Stop moping, Damiano, it’s no fun'. So, there you go.”

Without another word, Ethan turned back around, leaving the curtain open, and walked back into the kitchenette of the bus. Out of the corner of his eye, Damiano could see him stealing a bit of fruit from the fruit bowl. He felt no motivation to join them.

***

“He alright?” Y/n whispered to Thomas, who was sitting close to her, guitar on his lap. He just shrugged. Ethan rejoined the group with an unreadable expression on his face, sitting down next to Victoria. Y/n shot him another concerned look, but he simply shrugged as well. She shook her head and got up from her spot, walking over to the counter to make breakfast for everyone. Getting out the waffle maker. Putting the Moka pot on the stove and filling it with water. Too early in the morning for rock and roll. In the background, she could hear the band discussing rehearsals and the show in Oslo.

As soon as the smell of food hit the three bandmates, they were all over Y/n, hovering around the little kitchenette, pushing and shoving each other to be first. Y/n looked at all of them in turn. Thomas was currently standing on the couch, raising his hand to smack an unsuspecting Vic who was looking the other way. A single raised brow from Y/n got him back down onto the ground.

“Hey! I’m older, I go first!” Victoria pushed Thomas back.

“Maybe, but it still took your mum nine months to think of a good joke,” Thomas retorted.

Ethan turned around, chuckling at his friends’ banter - but Y/n’s reaction was far more blatant. She started to laugh, a loud, almost cackle that the band had never heard before. Her smile easily reached her eyes and she gave a little applause at Thomas’ joke. “I- I;” she gasped in between laughs, “I know it’s not that funny but it just got me, sorry!” Finally managing to bite her tongue, she went back to serving breakfast.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw Damiano leaning so far out of his bunk to find out where the sounds and the laughter were coming from. The driver though couldn’t have known it was a bad moment to go over a pothole. With a loud thud, Damiano crashed out from his bunk and onto the hard floor. Chili, excited at the prospect of being able to reach him, ran over to lick his face.

“Eh! Chili, hi. Vic! Come get your dog!” He groaned, picking up the golden fluff and sending it back to her owner. She trotted away happily, over towards Victoria, who was a giggling mess after seeing her friend’s fall. He rolled his eyes at her grin.

“You gonna come join us, sleepy boy? I made coffee,” Y/n said, still trying to keep the peace between everyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, she walked over to Damiano and bent down, handing him the beverage. “I don’t really care if you want to spend the entire day on the floor, but I think your fans might tonight. So come join the party, hm?” Her voice was soft and enticing. Damiano’s eyes sparkled at her invitation. But still, his face was burning red. He sighed and nodded.

Y/n stepped back, taking the cup after he had taken a long sip, and reached her hand out to him. With a swift movement, Damiano was back up on his feet, immediately losing his balance and crashing into Y/n’s shoulder. More blushing on his part. He had not been expecting this amount of strength from her. Not caring about his little bump into her, she dusted him off, picking some fuzz out of his hair, her hand so close to his face, yet so far. She handed him the coffee once again and gave him a smile, before going back to her little corner on the bus as everyone devoured their breakfast.

Damiano watched as she tidied up after everyone had finished, constantly making sure what was effectively their home during tour would stay homely. She always looked like she belonged, and he admired her for that. After one last wipe down of the counter, she quickly addressed everyone on the bus, asking if she was needed for anything else right now, and after a round of head-shaking from everyone, she grabbed her laptop and retired to a quiet corner on the bus. It was only when she briefly looked up to find his eyes and gave a slight smile that he realised he was still watching her every move. Embarrassing, he scolded himself.

Damiano started fumbling for his bag, grabbing a notebook and a pen. He had too many thoughts running around in his head, too many images and ideas about Y/n, and he felt like the only way to get rid of them was to write. Maybe he’d even be able to make something out of it. Anything would be better than staring and dreaming about her anyway.

***

Two more hours until Oslo. With a heavy sigh, Y/n pushed the laptop away from her, neck cracking as she finally moved her bones a little. Suddenly, a pair of hands came down onto her shoulders. She only flinched for a moment before she realised it was Damiano, slowly starting to massage her tense flesh. Her head fell forward and she waved her hand to have him keep going. His fingertips digging into hours of uni work, work work, other work. Tension all living in her neck being slowly worked away by the singer.

"I'm not gonna turn down a free massage," she chuckled, feeling his talented fingers remove knot after knot. Then, suddenly, they became softer. She could hear Thomas in the background shouting something at Damiano. Taking his attention away from her, and all it left was soft fingertips on the sensitive skin on her neck. Dancing along and leaving goosebumps in their wake without him even knowing what he was doing to her. She shivered under such a light touch. A groan left her lips as she was falling deeper under his spell. At this point, she didn’t care. A very pretty man was smoothing his hands over her neck and shoulders and it was nothing short of lovely. Normally this wouldn’t be on Y/n's top list of things she would allow - but a 6-hour bus ride and sitting in one place for most of it was a killer.

I could fall asleep like this - fuck…

She was snapped back to reality when she realised that Damiano was once again staring at her screen, asking what she was working on, hands never moving from their position. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to concentrate like this.

“Oh, I’ve, um,” she awkwardly fumbled with the laptop, “I’ve been trying to memorise this sonnet. I’m doing a course on Shakespeare this semester and we’ve been told to pick our favourite by him and I think I finally decided on mine. It’s Sonnet 128 - um. One of the only sonnets to give you an actual scene in place. It’s from the perspective of this guy watching a bard and just craving to be touched, used, kissed by this person. To have the same sort of attentive mastery be directed at him instead of the player’s instrument. Describing the person listening to this bard play… Wait, would you just like me to read it to you?” Y/n looked up at Damiano. He nodded as he slid into the seat beside her. She moved the laptop so she could see its screen still and began to speak.

***

Sitting next to her wasn’t as bad as Damiano thought. After working on her neck and shoulders, her perfume had rubbed off onto his skin. Light and warm, not super floral, but he didn’t peg Y/n to be a flower kind of woman anyway. Looking at her face now, he noticed things he hadn’t seen before. Faint freckles, little lines around her eyes, the pink tint on her lips. Her hair was done up again in a bun. He could see a couple of bobby pins trying to hide in her wild hair. Then she started to recite the piece and his chest was exploding. He felt as if he was watching winter melt away and spring come.

“How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st”

Oh, what he would do to be her muse, Damiano thought. Her voice, low and soft, was like music itself to him, never mind the way her eyes lit up at the words she repeated from the screen. A little light inside of her, one he hadn’t encountered before.

“Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway’st”

Her fingers were just as sweet, his mind piped up as he tried to listen to her more closely. Some light polish on her nails that he hadn’t noticed before, but now that she was scrolling through the laptop, it was like he couldn’t keep his eyes off them. Quickly exploring images of them tangled in his hair, scratching down his back ever so slightly. Stop, he told in his own head in vain. Just stop and listen, for once. Yet the ideas of her he had hidden away kept demanding attention.

“The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,

Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap

To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,”

He tried so hard to concentrate. To listen, to take in the words she was reciting, to grasp their meaning and what they meant to her, but it was hard, getting harder. In an uncalculated move on his part, his arm swung around her shoulders, not pulling her closer, just letting her know he was there, right now, right here, with her. His hand resting on her upper arms, feeling the warmth underneath the fabric of her blouse.

“Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,

At the wood’s boldness by thee blushing stand!”

His eyes travelled up from her fingers, over her soft and curvy figure, her delicate neck, to her blushing face. She was blushing an awful lot with him and he had not yet figured out completely if this was a good sign or not. Either way, he thought she looked adorable, a natural pink on her cheeks. Slightly restless eye movements that didn’t match up to the words she was reading, a certain nervousness overtaking her. He wanted to make her blush like that for the rest of his life if he could. He silently wondered if she would blush that much if… if it was just the two of them, alone in some random hotel room, a whole world of exploration before them.

“To be so tickled, they would change their state

And situation with those dancing chips,

O’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,

Making dead wood more blest than living lips.”

His eyes betrayed him, flicking down to her lips as soon as she said the word. Soft, a light tint on them, pronouncing every syllable in the most mindful way. He wondered if she would let him kiss her. What. His brain flickered between two emotions. Yes, yes, yes. He would give everything to feel her sweet mouth on his, getting her close, inhaling her scent, pouring his every thought into a kiss. No. What was he thinking? She was their assistant. Strong, gorgeous, fiercely independent, and surely not interested. Right? He couldn’t help wondering. Would she let him kiss her? Would she want him to? Had she thought about it, the way he was right now?

“Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,

Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.”

Their eyes met and Damiano hadn’t even noticed how much closer he had edged towards her. It would only take a little bit, one more breather, a tiny motion, to put his lips on her, to feel what she was feeling, and the way she looked at him had him craving, obsessing and he almost dared himself to do it, when a voice pulled him out of his thoughts, pulled him away from her.

“Y/N! I don’t understand how the waffle maker works!”

Damiano had never wanted to kill his bandmate more than at that moment. With a groan he turned around, seeing Thomas fumble with the appliances in their little kitchen area, a dumbstruck look on his face, and puppy dog eyes pleading Y/n for help. She only gave a low chuckle, before getting up and walking over to the guitarist, leaving Damiano with a head full of thoughts that all circled around her.

***

That was close, Jesus Christ! My face is so warm… how are his eyes that pretty? How have I never noticed that before? I wonder if he was thinking about the same thing as I was back there…

***

The crowd was roaring out by the main stage. Crew held their places waiting for the queue to go. The band stood off stage trying to sneak a peek at the audience. Hundreds more people than they were expecting. Y/n sat in a metal chair that was dubbed ‘her chair’ so she could watch the performance from behind the main curtain to cheer the band on without being seen. The lights in the main room were being lowered, the playlist that had been on in the background slowly being turned off, as the noise of the audience got impossibly louder. The band was getting nervous now, the good kind of nervous. Thomas jumping around to get his energy levels up before they would get the sign to get on stage. Y/n smiled at them in turn, returning a little wave Ethan was giving her. Just as they were given the go-ahead, and all of them started to jog on stage, Damiano took a little detour, sending her a smile that would set all the butterflies free in her stomach, before pressing a little kiss to her forehead. He was gone before she had a chance to react. Yet, she froze. Damiano looked back and it was the most perplexed, confused, and adorable expression he had ever seen on her.

It was an expression Damiano couldn’t get out of his head for the rest of the concert, even long after she had lost it - and he knew she had because he couldn’t keep himself from looking over at her every now and again. He was fascinated by the way she watched them.

And if she was watching? Well, then he was going to put on a show.

He pulled all the tricks he knew - well those that were fitted to the situation and venue. During one of their songs, he decided to pull his favourite one. With a low grunt, he ripped his shirt apart, throwing it across the stage, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Until he looked over to where his top had landed and his eyes fell onto Y/n, standing beside the stage, now with a performance-rich torn tank top on her face. Maybe his aim had been a little off. The look on her face as she removed the fabric made him laugh. At least she isn’t hiding now, he thought, before going back to the song.

During “You need me, I don’t need you”, one of the covers they had chosen for the night, he couldn’t fight the grin, knowing his favourite lyric of the night was coming up.

“Melody music maker, reading all the papers, they say I’m up and coming like I’m fucking in an elevator.”

Where Damiano would usually take the chance to suggestively hump the mic stand and focus on the audience, this time he did it while looking straight at Y/n. Her face clouded red, eyes looking at him with a flustered glare. He simply winked at her.

Similar things kept happening throughout the night, any song to do with sex or romance, any innuendo, it was all directed at her. To him, it was all about her all the time, and he made sure to let her know.

***

After one last encore, the band left the stage, the sound of the crowd chanting their names in the background. Once backstage, they all exchanged hugs, all pumped up from the adrenaline and the successful show. A massive gift basket sat in the corner, filled with beers, chocolates, some skincare products, and flowers, along with a note from the venue welcoming them to Oslo and thanking them for playing. Vic immediately grabbed Y/n.

“When we get back to the hotel - up for a girl’s night?” Wriggling her eyebrows at the assistant, she picked out some of the products from the red tulle in the basket.

“As if I could say no to you.”

***

“Okay, what’s first, face mask or red wine?” Victoria asked, holding up both items in her hands as she followed Y/n into the hotel room, Chili yapping at both of their feet, dying to get attention from anyone.

“I will pour the wine if you open the face mask stuff,” Y/n decided, picking up Chili for some snuggles, before putting the dog down on the bed and grabbing the wine glasses. “Don’t have a girls' night often, so this is nice.”

“I keep having them with the boys but it’s not really the same,” Vic laughed. “They never want me to pluck their eyebrows or anything! Oh, and please be careful with the wine around Chili, I drenched her once and it didn’t come out of her fur for ages.”

“You - you did what now? Wait, nope, I don’t wanna know. But to be honest, I would kill to get Ethan on my lap with some tweezers in my hand. Boy, does he need it. Not by much, sweet guy. Just, uh, you know?” Within a moment or two wine was being poured and handed to the blonde. “I didn’t know how much you would want but we can always add more,” Y/n stated, hopping onto the bed next to Vic.

“Oh, very sweet guy with unpredictable hair, really!” Vic said, grabbing the glass and downing more than half of it in one go already, before sitting down next to Y/n with the little pot she had opened and a little applicator for the cream. “That’s so fancy, I usually just slap it on my face with my fingers.”

“Same! Thinking we’re posh fucks, aren’t they?” Y/n grinned, looking at the tiny skincare items, another sip of wine. Chili curled up between the two women. “You looked like you had fun at the concert.”

“It’s so good to be back on the road and I feel like we’ve really found ourselves as a band now. We’ve only played two shows but it’s already my favourite tour. I’m convinced it’s because you’re here, too, by the way, you really fit in with us,” Victoria smiled at her, sipping from the glass, then putting it away on the nightstand and motioning for Y/n to do the same. “Come here, I’m gonna do your face.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that. You guys have been absolutely killing it. You got here by your own accomplishments and will, that’s hard to do. I am far more surprised at how well I’ve been able to fit in with you all. I’m, uh, as you can see,” putting the glass away, she scooted to face Victoria, “not as… ‘rock and roll’ and I would have assumed you’d want your assistant to be. But glad I got stuck with you though.”

“Oh, shush,” Vic said, sternly, as she began applying the cream to Y/n’s face. “You fit in just fine. Firstly, I think we definitely need someone to keep us grounded a bit sometimes and secondly, I am absolutely convinced there’s a lot more rock and roll in you than you think - you just wait until you’ve been exposed to us for longer, you’ll see!”

“Well, I agree with the grounded part. You realise that today during breakfast Thomas was climbing on the sofa about to smack your head just to get further in line? That boy does not stop.” She relaxed into Vic’s touch, silently deciding that girls' nights needed to be a more regular thing. This was great. “Ethan said something similar - something about ‘head banging right along with everyone else’. You all have it out for me don’t you?!” She asked, putting on an overly dramatic, surprised look.

“No, he didn’t!” She exclaimed, astounded. “I’m gonna get him back for that tomorrow. Anyway, Ethan was right, you won’t be able to resist our bad influence forever, Y/n! So, have you been to gigs before taking this job, or is this still something new to you?”

“I have been to gigs before, but they were more music festivals, and I was never one for EDM or anything. The heat and lots of glittery, sweaty people drunk on warm beer? No, thank you. Or they would get a new assistant for a tour and the job would end. Not in a bad way, it's just how it is as an assistant. You do your job until they don’t need you anymore.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s the wine or you, but I don’t think I’ve talked this much about myself really since I started this job. Not this particular job, mind you, but the whole P.A. thing.” Y/n chuckled, pulling her hair back into a tighter ponytail to keep out of the way of the fancy skincare.

“Hm, now I just keep thinking of putting glitter on you and getting you in the middle of a good punk gig one of these days,” Vic giggled as she finished up Y/n’s facemask, motioning for her to return the favour. “Let’s make the most of this wine then, I’m going to pour you another glass and you tell me a bit more about yourself.”

Grabbing the little pot of face mask, Y/n gently held Vic’s face, slowly applying the cream. “I’m going to be an alcoholic by the end of the tour, aren’t I? Um, well, I had a boyfriend, he was a prick, we broke up. My best friend lives in London in our old flat. My favourite films are old Hollywood romances. ‘Singing in the rain’, stuff like that. I dunno really. I’m just Y/n. Though I was thinking we should find a way to line Damiano’s trousers so that if they - when they rip apart, you see the lining and not the man’s underwear. Not that I think he cares, actually.” She truly was unable to turn work off completely, even on a night off.

Victoria couldn’t contain the giggle, receiving a scolding look from Y/n, who almost put the cream in her hair by mistake. “Thinking about Damiano’s underwear a lot, huh? Can’t blame you, that man is as pretty as they come. You can be happy they’ve all not gotten to the point where they just hang out on the tour bus in just their boxer shorts, but believe me, that day will come sooner or later!”

“I have not!” She insisted as her face betrayed her, telling a completely different story. “That is unprofessional and objectifying. I hope it doesn’t happen at all. You saw my face before when you all decided to ‘put on a little show’ in the dressing room.” She took the glass from Vic to take a sip. “Anyway.” She started blending out the face mask with fingers, careful not to get it into Victoria’s hair. “Would there be anything you want to know? I am never good at talking about myself.”

Chili nuzzled into Victoria’s leg, getting more needy. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries here, but honestly - why do you work so hard? I’ve only known you for like three days but you never seem to relax, you’re always either busy working for us or working on your projects and when you have a minute to breathe you end up cleaning after us or just going above and beyond taking care of us. I’m not complaining,” she held her hands up, laughing. “It’s great, but it’s a lot, huh?”

“Um… I can’t lie. Not to you or the band. Lying isn’t good for you anyway. But.. I don’t know. Lots of stuff happened before I moved to Italy. Lots of not-so-good stuff. So, I had a lot of reserved pent-up energy, still do. So I had to find ways to put it into things. Now I put it into my work because it’s my new dream. I put it into the band because I care about you. I want to see this tour do well…” Y/n stopped for a moment, caught off guard by the question, looking back and forth between Victoria and her own reflection in the wine. “I want to prove to myself that I can achieve and be successful. I am also a giant workaholic, though, like it’s bad,” she giggled, as Chili now put a paw on Vic’s thigh, demanding attention.

“Well, if you gotta do that whole workaholic thing, I’m glad you’re doing it for us,” Vic smiled, placing a soft hand on Y/n’s arm. “Just make sure to make some time to let loose every now and again. I’m sure any of us would be happy to help you with that.” She turned on her phone to check the time. “I should probably get this mask off now, give me a second,” she explained before getting up and skipping to the bathroom sink.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Y/n said, also taking note of the time. “Doesn’t Chili need to go out now? There’s no grass on the balcony or I’d let her do her business here.” She stood up, placing the wine glasses on a little counter, trying to force the cork back into the bottle. “Thank you for tonight though, we should make it a thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll take her out for her evening walk now.” Victoria came back, hair slightly damp from where she had washed her face too hastily. “But let’s definitely do this again, next to Ethan you’re like the most calming person on this tour to hang out with.” She moved to give her a hug, only to realise Y/n still had the mask on, so instead, she opted for an awkward shoulder rub and a giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You do realise it is my job to follow you around and see you tomorrow? Like, that is what I am paid to do. But hell, I’d still do it if it wasn’t my job,” she smiled, nudging Vic’s shoulder. “Now go get Chili out and then get some sleep yeah? Important things like sleep, food, water, everything you people seem to keep forgetting about!”

“Well, that’s what we have you for now, don’t we?” Victoria laughed, picking up a whining Chili and already halfway out the door. “But you get some sleep too! No working through the night, I am ordering you to bed - as your boss!”

“Of course!” Y/n laughed, shutting the door behind the bassist. After taking off her mask, she put the rest of Vic’s leftover wine into her glass and went out onto the balcony with her laptop. Pulling out all the bobby pins and the hair tie, she ran her fingers through her hair, brushing out the knots and letting it hang loose. The light from the sunset had long been gone by the time they had gotten to the hotel. Only street lights and the blue screen were illuminating the space of the balcony. The outdoor space was large enough for a table and chairs. The street down below was faintly noisy as people and cars passed by, but not enough to disturb her peace and quiet.

***

So much for an early night, Damiano thought, staring at the screen of his phone, as Ethan slept soundly in the next bed. With a sigh, he kicked the blanket off his legs, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, and sneaking out onto the balcony without waking his bandmate. Maybe a smoke would help. His eyes drifted from the rather unspectacular view out front to where he noticed movement to his right, only to see Y/n on her own balcony, right next to his.

Y/n was relaxing in her chair, glass of wine in her hands, mouthing the words to something on the computer in front of her. Entirely focused on whatever she was working on, she didn’t notice Damiano’s door opening and closing. She took a drink of her wine, leaving a dark red stain on her lips, then stood up to face the street. Laptop on her arm and looking outward, she mumbled the words on the screen to herself. He just about managed to make out what she was saying.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with brief- Wait, no. Grief. Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Who is already sick and pale with grief. Stupid tiny font is gonna be de death of me,” she mumbled, trying to zoom into the text.

Damiano watched her, a chuckle on his lips, both amused and amazed at seeing her play out the scene on her own. With a quick flick of his lighter, he turned to his cigarette, taking a drag, wide awake. The low light of the moon was illuminating her figure and her hazy movements and for a while he allowed himself to simply be fascinated by her. By the way she moved. Performing fully committed to the open air. Then she made a particularly dramatic, sweeping gesture in her monologue and he knew he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Hey there, Juliet.”

The surprise went through her like an electric shock, she was stumbling over nothing, almost dropping the laptop from her arms, as she turned around towards him so fast, he was sure her hair was going to give her whiplash.

“Ah fuck - Damiano?!” She gasped delicately into the night. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!”

Hopefully, for very different reasons, he thought to himself.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly replied. “What are you doing? It’s almost 2 am.”

“You know I could very well ask you the same thing.” She looked at him accusingly. “If you didn’t have the day off tomorrow I’d be ordering you back to bed immediately.”

Damiano briefly considered a suggestive comment, but instead, let the cigarette between his lips keep him quiet. Y/n was putting her laptop away now, sinking back down into the lounge chair as he walked over to the edge of his own balcony, leaning over the railing to get a better look at her.

“You know I’ve not forgiven you for your antics at the concert tonight yet,” she suddenly stated, pulling him from his thoughts. The smirk flashed over his face naturally. He wondered if she was blushing again, but the little light the moon and her laptop screen gave off didn’t tell him anything. He was hoping she was.

“I promise I didn’t mean to hit your face with my top,” he laughed.

“But you obviously did mean everything else you did!” An accusing finger was pointed his way. “I did not appreciate that.”

For a second he flinched, wondering if he had gone too far, crossing a boundary. But then she looked back at him with a smile she was obviously trying to push away, unsuccessfully. Glass of wine in her hand, she sauntered over to him, while he put out his cigarette on the railing. She leant over her own railing, mirroring his movements. At a slow pace, like she knew he was watching, she sipped from her glass. His eyes falling to the way her neck was exposed as she threw her head back, tracing the soft skin with his glances until she set down the drink. There was a droplet of red wine on her lip and he wished their balconies were closer together, fantasising about reaching out and wiping it away, feeling just how soft she would be under his touch.

“Not that… I didn’t like it.” She paused. “Also not the first time I’ve been hit in the face with a shirt. So there’s that.” Y/n laughed.

“Now you’ve got me curious - who else would hit you with a shirt? Are you trying to tell me you’ve been to strip clubs?” Damiano laughed. Teasing her came easy to him.

“Dancers. With aim as terrible as yours, Mr. David. And I don’t know if you want the answer to the second question,” she smirked. When they were alone like this, she seemed more at ease. That, or it was the wine. He didn’t know.

“Dancers, huh? Think you could teach me a thing or two? Or, you know, were you just watching, lusting over sexy men?”

“Ah! I would do nothing of the sort. Most of the guys there weren’t into girls anyway. Wouldn’t do me much good… Damiano, I could teach a lot of things. You to dance? God help us all.” She made a dramatic cross across her body, laughter twinkling in her eyes.

“Now, Y/n, I’d let you teach me whatever you wanted,” he winked. “Preferably something… active, hm?” He could keep from laughing as he saw her unimpressed face, staring him down and shaking her head. He’d rile her up for the rest of his life if she gave him the chance.

“I once met this Italian guy, came to the studio. Thought he was God’s gift to dance. But you Italians all have that, bravado, confidence, whatever you wanna call it. Well, after learning the first intermediate step, he fell flat on his face and went back to beginner lessons. You gonna be like that?” Raising a brow at him, she leant further over the railing on her side.

Damiano puffed up his chest, comically, trying to make himself appear bigger in a useless attempt to impress her. “Now, you’ve obviously not met the right Italians yet, amore mio. Sounds to me like you need a real Italian to show you the way.”

Just like this morning, she burst out laughing, letting out cackles that filled the air with joy. “Sorry - not laughing at you. Just thought what you said was funny.” She looked down, and as dark as it was, he could see the same signs he had seen before. Shy expression, holding herself close to her body. The slight panic of not knowing what to say. “You’re real Italian, alright. You seem to always know what to say. Now is that an Italian thing or a Damiano thing?” She asked, sarcastically, to deflect the fact that her face was heating up.

Amore mio…that's what did it. He felt like he was unlocking a single puzzle piece at a time, slowly putting her together and making sense of her. He couldn’t wait to get the whole picture one of these days. “Maybe it’s a you thing,” he simply said. The night was making him strangely comfortable with being honest. “Maybe you just bring it out in me.”

“Eh - I’ve been told I bring out a lot of things, never a savant before.” She was still looking down, at her hands, starting to pick at her nail polish. Some little nervous tick that he hadn’t caught onto till now. “It’s late, you should go to sleep, Dami. I am sure that bed is missing its handsome owner right about now.” She started to look far away, picking up the wine glass and taking the last sip.

He had barely heard what she had said - too focused on her calling him Dami, for the very first time. It was like a little shudder running through him, knowing she was growing closer to him as the time passed. “Are you okay, though? I’m sure my bed will survive without me a little bit longer.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me, I worry enough as it is. Tomorrow is a day off, so I won’t be waking you up in the morning, bus call isn’t until later. Um, but I will be getting breakfast. Is there anything you would want?”

“As long as it involves coffee, I’m happy. I’m sure you’ll pick out the perfect thing anyway.” Damiano watched as she nodded, moving towards the balcony doors and away from him. He felt like grabbing her just to keep her there. He straightened up as well, just barely backing away from the railing. As she left he looked at the space she once occupied, feeling like he could almost make out the outline of her body where it once had been.

Amore mio...